Dante

  After leaving Eva and her forced suitor, Dante drove to Inferno with hopes of getting some sleep. But the nagging feeling that he was missing something about this whole situation was eating at him.

  Between the two attacks and her trashed apartment, he knew these events couldn't just be a coincidence.

  He leaned back in his seat, forcing sleep to come but failing. Not with Evanora's terrified scream echoing in his mind. She'd seemed to sleep easier with him sitting there, even if it had taken her a moment to relax with him so close.

  He'd tried to be still as stone on top of her sheets so she wouldn't get distracted by his presence, and eventually, she'd found peace.

  And she had looked so peaceful in the faint moonlight that cast shadows on her complexion.

  Frustrated. Dante kicked off from his desk, chair swiveling him around so he could stand.

  Obviously, he wasn't going to get any sleep. Between the annoyance of essentially chasing his own tail and the memory of forcibly keeping his hands to himself the previous night, he decided it was best to make use of his suppressed energy.

  He grabbed his jacket and made his way to the Nether to look for any more clues on where, or what, could have been sending these creatures after her.

  He descended from his usual spot in his office, the atoms in his body burning as he forced his way between realms. He held his breath and braced for impact as the floor crackled and creaked once he'd landed in the home beneath his bar.

  Shaking off the inky onyx that threatened to overtake his hands with the use of his essence, he made his way through the dark living room and to the streets of Infernia.

  Not all of the Nether resembled a hellscape, but was still a nightmarish version of their Earthly counterparts.

  After the separation known as Kaos’ Great Rift, a perpetual twilight shrouded the entire Nether, casting long shadows across sleek skyscrapers and ancient, twisted architecture. Unlike in the human realm where most air quality was fresh and breathable, the air in this region of the Nether was thick with an eerie, reddish-orange haze. Like the result of embers from a distant fire.

  What was known as the States in the human realm was Infernia to the Nether.

  Before the rift, The Prime's had divided the world into four territories, each crafted in their likeness just like their creatures.

  Tartarus, the master of Infernia, forged his Tenebrians from fragments of his war essence infused into Bloodstone, a mystical Neth material. Infernia's landscape was a twisted reflection of Tartarus's own essence, with burning deserts, scorched mountains, and rivers of molten lava that would later inspire human notions of hell.

  Tartarus's region resembled a lot of the city-esque feel of its above counterparts, but with twisted black vines overgrowing skyscrapers. As if nature reclaiming concrete strongholds. On the horizon were iron mountains, and opposite that were forests eternally ablaze.

  One indicator Tartarus still lived freely.

  If he were imprisoned, as the other Primes were, the flames would calm just as the seas in Aquaria and the chaotic nature of the air in Chaosia had centuries ago.

  Neon lights from modern towers reflected off dark glass and wet pavement as Dante made his way to his destination. The Nether’s energy crackled beneath his feet like static electricity.

  It was still early, causing the orange haze on the horizon to cast strange shadows not only against the warped vehicles in the streets but the diverse creatures out.

  They watched as the hunter passed and he pulled at his hood. It would do him no good if word traveled he'd arrived.

  Normally, he paid them no mind. He feared no Malevolent in the Nether, but he trying to be stealthy.

  He dipped into an alleyway still covered by the darkness of shadow and found another way to the warehouse he planned to stake out today.

  He had ventured to The Oracle before his shift with Eva last night, getting there when they'd first opened just before the darkness set in on Infernia. With his hood up to shield his face, he'd taken a seat in a dark corner behind the door. It had made it easier for him to sneak out when needed and, for the most part, no one bothered him except for the flirty imp waitress. He'd finally had to pay her to stop coming to his table so frequently.

  It hadn't taken him long to find his mark. Four of them came in together, rambunctious and boastful, until three were drunk enough to stumble out of the bar nearly an hour later.

  The other, Dante had heard, was heading to a warehouse for a shipment coming in. He was who Dante had followed.

  On his bike, he'd tracked him at a distance and when the Shadowhand stopped at his destination, Dante kept going. He pulled his bike into a dark enclave down the street, before taking to the roofs to watch the demon's actions.

  The warehouse had been busy with a few trucks loading and unloading large crates. Before they could finish filling the last truck, he'd snuck down while the loaders were in the building and searched the trailer.

  Carefully prying open a couple boxes, Dante realized they were smuggling a few rare artifacts and demon remains. Nothing that out of the ordinary for this lot. In the final crate, though, were hundreds of carefully packaged Nexarian vials with official seals, not the dangerous knockoffs that had been floating around lately.

  These types of vials contained a volatile reality-bending ether, harvested from deep within Kaos's realm of Chaosia, and were used to keep portals stable.

  Normally, they were kept under tight control by the remaining two Proxies and the regional High Council, so to have them being distributed by Shadowhand’s, a known underground crime syndicate, had confused Dante. The vials weren't an easy heist.

  Kaos and Leviathan’s Proxies usually governed nobly, enforcing their original masters' rules for the betterment of the Nether after the rift. But it could have been possible, they had their own agendas. As most Malevolent did.

  He'd taken a vial for evidence and left the truck before he could be spotted.

  Today though, he watched the warehouse for more developments.

  He stayed for a couple hours, but there was no movement, so he left to seek out his second source.

  For a moment, he'd considered requesting an audience with the Proxies.

  However, not only would that take days, if not weeks, but he didn't want a mark on his back with how he usually skirted around both realm's laws. On the other hand, if he were to mention Lilith, and they weren't aware of her potential return, he didn't want to pique their interest and start a war between realms.

  Instead, he ventured deeper north of Infernia. As he neared the iron mountains, where the atmosphere was thick with burning metal and ash, he wrapped a bandana around his nose and mouth to prevent breathing in too much of the toxic air. His bike rattled violently over the rough terrain, scarred by ancient battles, while he searched the barren landscape for the jagged peak in his memories.

  He hoped the ancient he sought was still located at the base and that the terrain hadn't changed. Each obsidian mountain top was curved like giant claws reaching out from deep craters or trenches. They would often spew magma, making navigation difficult. However, when he passed the river overflowing with black tar, he knew he wasn't too far off from their last known location.

  At the base of these mountains was an ancient creature with many names, but he knew them as Keeper of Shadows. There was no known record of what kind of creature it was, other than its vast knowledge of most of the Nether’s secrets and how it shifted its appearance often.

  Dante remembered the last time he'd come looking for information, their appearance was in the form of a female Stoner. Their body had been carved of fleshy marble instead of resembling grey stone, as most were, with intricate gold melted into delicate places.

  Dante hoped they could bring more insight into how and why the Shadowhands were hoarding or distributing the Nexarian vials. And if they were doing so with or without the current Proxies knowledge.

  They'd helped him once and he hoped they would do so again, even though he was showing up unannounced. But not empty-handed.

  He unmounted from his bike once he found the crater he'd been searching for. While some of the other peaks emitted a grey ash-like smoke, the one he needed vented a deep black-like tar. He made his way through the tunnel once he found the cave's entrance and used his nose to find his mark. Despite the air being thick with a metallic taste that settled in the back of his throat, the scent he searched for was more of a sweetly decaying.

  The scent grew stronger the deeper he traveled through the tunnel system. Until finally, the floor was no longer black iron ore but smooth basalt stones and the walls a glossy obsidian. They reflected the flickering torches sticking from the ground like dark mirrors.

  The tunnel eventually opened into a much larger space that had a dark luxurious Persian feel.

  From the high ceiling hung ornate lanterns with dark stained glass. They cast jewel-toned shadows against the glossy obsidian walls adorned with intricate, dark metal filigree. Large shelves with scrolls, books, and bottles lined the wall to his left, and to the right sat a large couch with opulent pillows and velvet cushions embroidered with golden threads.

  In front of the couch, sprawled comfortably on a pile of pillows and one of the many plush Persian-style carpets in the room laid the ancient. When he'd entered, they had been inhaling deeply from the mouthpiece of a crystal hookah sitting next to their polished hoof on the floor.

  Its form was now a sultry faun with subtly curved russet-colored horns.

  "Halfling, always a surprise to see you so deep in Neth." Without looking at his entrance, they greeted him and a huff of purple smoke encompassed them.

  "Strange." Dante took in the new form. "You don't sound surprised."

  They gracefully uncrossed their goat-like limb from the other before taking another huff and releasing it with their statement. "There are never unexpected, only uninvited."

  He smirked behind his black bandana. "And what am I?"

  They finally sat up, the muscles in their back stretching with the action, and looked over their broad shoulders lazily while giving Dante an interested once over. Their gaze landed on the sack he'd brought with him, golden irises flickering with both power and intrigue. "Depends. My secrets are usually paid for, and yet, are yours free?”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Dante tossed the bag to the table in front of him, and their body dematerialized into a black smokey mist before reappearing across from the round wood. They stood on large hooves and long limbs that were covered in soft honey brown, the same color as the faint fur on their chest and arms, and trailing just below a taut navel. However, the silken hair pulled into four long braids down their back was a deep brown, contrasting with their cool pale skin.

  Gently, their slender hands fingered the fabric, and once taking a peak, their elongated ears twitched with what Dante assumed was either intrigue or pleasure.

  In the bag he'd brought were two hearts, one from the Fire-Bender and the other from the Pyropex. He'd requested that the heart be kept for collateral and the Reaper had been hesitant to do so but agreed.

  "A worthy gift." Their tone was indifferent as if he hadn't just seen their eagerness. "Speak your mind, Dante, Son of Tartarus. Is it secrets you seek or… "

  They eyed Dante seductively as their sharp black nails disappeared into the fur of their hips and reappeared to finger the fabric of the cloth covering more intimate parts.

  "I'm here on business." He tried to keep his smile at bay when they mumbled how it had never stopped him before. "I came to you once, seeking information."

  "More information on your father?" Their chuckle was musical with the wind chimes of all their personas while they tossed their head back with amusement. Once sobered, they shook their head playfully. "Oh, to be of two souls and one mind."

  They misted from the table and towards the shelves, stretching their lean waist as they reached for something on the highest shelf.

  "No," he said sternly, causing them to turn slightly, braids brushing gently down their back as they cocked their head in confusion. "I don't care for any more information on Tartarus.”

  A sly smile turned up their sensual lips as their broad chest puffed with confidence. "The stream always flows back to the sea; this is fact, not opinion. Again, I ask, what secrets do you seek?"

  He watched for any sign they'd lie to him, though they'd never done so before. Just as the Oswalds, the ancient had once been helpful with previous pursuits. "Lilith. Have you heard anything worth noting?"

  Their eyes narrowed as they looked him over once more, though Dante couldn't tell in interest or distrust. There was a slight tick to their chiseled jaw. "Rumors spread faster than darkness in the realms — yet you come to me, Dante. Your curiosity about The Primordials is louder than any rumor floating through Neth.”

  "Don't play stupid with me." He pressed, hoping for a reaction.

  Their golden eyes glared, monolids narrowing further. "You dare insult me? In my own–"

  "Hovel?" Dante supplied with a chuckle. They'd misted again, appearing in front of him but he didn't flinch. He held their stern gaze, noting the black of their pupils pulsating. It had been the same power play he'd played with Eva, and Dante knew this game well. "I wouldn't dare. But I've given payment; I'd like an answer."

  Dante gave a slight cock to his head, and finally let his gaze roam the ancients' chiseled features in an interest that wasn't completely fabricated.

  They paused as if collecting ancient thoughts, and a coy expression flashed across their face. Soft slender hands ran the length of his chest and back as they circled him, but when they received no reaction from the stoic demon, their musical chuckle filled the room again.

  They misted away, reappearing in their original sprawled position on the pillow pile.

  "Stirrings, yes." Golden eyes looked up at Dante, possibly watching his reaction just as he'd watched theirs. "Whispers of imbalance between realms. Earth realm tremors sensed by my… shadows."

  Smoke danced between their long fingers when they lifted their hand to emphasize the word shadows.

  "Who talks? A particular faction or an individual?" Finally, Dante hoped he was getting somewhere, but he tried to remain indifferent.

  Their shoulders shrugged, moving their whole body with the motion.

  "Insignificants. Idle lips that water dry gardens." When they could tell Dante didn't like this answer, they continued. "There's always talk of an uprising, halfling. Every millennium. Yesterday's news, reborn today."

  "Insignificants who don't matter, or insignificant because they're not privy to the truth?" Dante's eyes narrowed, his voice taking on a calculating tone. "Tell me, Keeper of Shadows, what do you know about Nexarian vials? Any connection to your rumors of an uprising?"

  They arched a curious brow at this question, their ears twitching again as they disappeared and materialized on their lush couch.

  Their voice lowered further, heavy with significance. "Interesting connection. A thread of smoke, a whisper of fire. The vials are a spark, but the flame is yet to be fanned."

  "Any word on who's behind the supply? Or if the Councils are aware of these... arrangements?"

  "The true power remains hidden but yes, whispers of missing shipments from the Council. It's been a while since we've seen such... irregularities. The absence of Tartarus's hand has left a void, and the darkness seeps in."

  "Tartarus?" he repeated, his voice firm. "And who directed the vials under his rule?"

  The demon's response was measured, their voice low and deliberate. "Vials were normally delegated by Tartarus himself... or his direct Proxy."

  Dante's jaw ticked. The only demon his father would have trusted with that kind of information was Arcturus. However, with Tartarus's betrayal to the realm, they were both now outcasts. There was no way the remaining two Proxies would have allowed him to continue to serve beside them.

  "And who directs them now?" Dante pressed, through gritted teeth.

  The creature's smile turned mischievous, their eyes glinting with amusement. "There is wisdom in confronting the source." Another sly smile curled their lips with the knowledge that Dante didn't trust the remaining Proxies which was why he was here, questioning darkness itself. "Like your father, Proxy Arcturus, ancient Caster, and Council, hides in shadows. With Proxy Arcturus ousted from control, he and his loyalist faction are sure to have found workaround. Shadowhands now distribute around Neth secretly. With a hefty price for those without the… natural means."

  They eyed Dante with the implication, but their almond-shaped eyes narrowed when Dante requested an audience with Arcturus. "What bond ties my shadows to your darkness?"

  "You will do this for me, old friend." He tried not to let his voice go dark but failed with his restlessness.

  "Bold claim, Dante." Their once lilted voice went gravelly, hinting at both surprise and animosity. "'Old friend' implies familiarity with my true name… you have inherited more from your father than darkness. His poisonous shadow lives through you.”

  Dante was silent with their veiled insult and tried not to grow impatient.

  "Very well," they lilted again with a sigh. "For my own interests, I shall whisper echoes through hidden realms. Wait for darkness to bring word."

  He nodded, expressed his gratitude, and prepared to make his leave, but their whispered voice in his mind stopped him just before the entrance.

  When he gave his attention again, he was met with their golden eyes, this time glowing vibrantly bright with the display of power.

  Dante was confused by their cryptic whisper into his mind but did not press further, growing tired both from their word games and the weight of the Nether on his body.

  He found his way through the tunnels and once he reached his bike, he made his way back to his original drop point.

  He'd just requested decades of silence to be broken and Dante's instincts screamed with warning and caution.

  It had been nearly a century and a half since Dante had encountered Arcturus. And with their last altercation, he doubted he'd be hearing from his former… mentor.

  He hadn't realized Arcturus’s connection with his father when the Proxy had found him during his darkest time. Though when he had revealed his true intentions, Dante rightfully lashed out. The lying Caster had solidified his thoughts that there was truly no one Dante could trust. He was alone. In both realms.

  He was just a child when his mother had died, watching as Tartarus’s second spawn literally drained the spark from her cognac eyes. And his father?

  Gone.

  He'd abandoned them at the first sign of the pregnancy failing, forcing Dante as a child himself to resort to stealing to supply for him and his weakening mother.

  There was no one to help them. They were already outcasts, with many of Civitas' townsfolk referring to Tartarus as a succubus and Dante as a demon with his abnormal features.

  For a long while, all Dante could remember from the night his mother succumbed to her second demon pregnancy was the heat bubbling over within him. He'd never felt such grief and rage.

  He wasn't sure how the fire started, but when he finally woke the next morning he was naked and in a barn just outside Civita. He'd returned only to find much of the town destroyed, including his home.

  In his grief, he'd inadvertently shifted into his full demon essence. It was something he hadn't known was even possible at the age of twelve. He'd burned down most of the city in a blind rage.

  With nothing left for him there, he ran.

  The resentment towards humans built as they treated him like he was less than because of his features. They saw his grey eyes and white hair as a bad omen. And the demons he did encounter as a teen, only wanted to kill him once he inquired about his father.

  Eventually, he stopped revealing who his father was.

  It took a long while for him to figure out his powers. He'd often get stuck in both realms for long periods. In the Nether, he was weak unless he drew on his essence, and in the human realm, he was too strong, often unintentionally hurting those around him. Finding balance was nearly impossible, resulting in more anger and resentment.

  He began to spiral, becoming callous and detached from both realms. Anyone who threatened him, or that he even thought was going to cross him, met his fists and often ended up dead.

  When he was twenty-one and had a grip on his shifting between worlds, he set out to destroy Tartarus for killing his mother, abandoning them, and cursing him to a life as a monster.

  Empty threats he soon realized. There was no way to actually kill a Prime, only trap them.

  Which had been The Society's plan all along with his idiot power-hungry father. To double-cross him after he gave them the information needed to take down the most powerful demons in the realm.

  Dante had grown a reputation in the Nether as a mercenary, something he didn't appreciate at first, but it kept Malevolent out of his face and often got him what he needed. Revenge had seemed within grasp back then.

  However, Tartarus's cowardice had begun long before Dante had even taken his first breath.

  Arcturus had found Dante at his lowest after four years of drowning in vengeance, self-hatred, and alcohol. He'd offered structure and, what he knew now was selective information on his father and Nether's history.

  For years, he'd mentored him under a false name. He trained him in weaponry rather than brute force before finally revealing the reason behind taking him in. Arcturus had always been in Dante's shadow after the fire. He'd been waiting for Tartarus to come for his firstborn, but when he didn't, and Dante went down a path of destruction, Arcturus felt they could potentially share a path of vengeance.

  And they did. Unfortunately, because Arcturus had lied to him for over fifty years, Dante wasn't sure if he could be trusted. For a moment, he'd let his guard down and even, idiotically, looked to the Caster for guidance.

  A little over one hundred and fifty years he spent focusing on Tartarus in the Nether with nothing to show for it. After an explosive altercation with Arcturus, Dante decided he wouldn't let Tartarus or anyone else continue to control his life.

  He'd just wanted to go home and work on finding his inner peace, on who he was outside of the essence. Outside of what others wanted or needed from him.

  However, when he returned to the human realm, his original home of Rome, he was met with war and death.

  And it didn't stop with his home. It was everywhere he went.

  War. Pain. Death.

  The humans were obsessed with controlling and mistreating those who were different from them. He felt the resentment building again. This feeling only intensified when he'd found his way to New York, in hopes of coming to a free country. Despite their claims, this America was not free and he found himself still relating to the minorities during this time.

  He'd traveled across the States, witnessing the same injustices and taking action against those responsible. But his actions hadn't gone unnoticed. The Society, a secretive organization, had taken an interest in him, sending Reapers to subdue him. After several failed attempts, it became clear they wouldn't stop.

  It wasn't as if he were murdering innocents but he knew his time in this America was done.

  After leaving, he kept to smaller islands for a while. He tried to keep as low a profile as someone like him could. Until he grew restless with beach life and returned to the States nearly thirty years later. Tension between the humans had simmered to a low boil rather than an outright volcanic eruption, and he'd decided to settle down.

  The local Keepers weren't thrilled about his plan to open a bar topside, but they knew better than to try to stop him. While Dante had learned to control his impulses, he still struggled with his temper. But he was working on it. Trying to find balance. A concept Arcturus and Tartarus hadn't been interested in.

  He questioned if that was why he found himself drawn to the girl. Her people had betrayed her just as his people had done with him.

  He knew what that pain could do and didn't want that for her.

  She was like honey: sweet and dewy with an inner light that he, unfortunately, found brought a smile to his face. He, in contrast, was ink: messy, buried in tragedy, and had a darkness in him that he selfishly wondered if her light could reach.

  After a shower and some much-needed rest, he headed out to keep an eye on Eva. He was leaving earlier than he had the past two days, but he wanted to see if there were any signs of strange disturbances or tracking around the girl's movements.

  After parking around back, he slipped into the coffee shop across the street from the Oswald’s. The smell of coffee slowly reset his nose and the caffeine would keep him alert while he watched the slowness of the shop.

  Though before he could sit where he could see into the shop's large window discreetly, he saw Eva pushing the Reaper out of the building. The devious smile on the Reaper's face made Dante’s blood boil, along with the fact she was touching him willingly.

  It shouldn't matter, he reminded himself. This was her suitor. The one her parents had chosen for her to–

  NOPE.

  He did NOT want to think about her body under his. He tried to push that image down, along with the nauseating knot he felt in his stomach, as his heart pounded in his chest with how close they walked together.

  The Reaper took her two shops down before opening the passenger door to his dark SUV. It earned a soft smile of gratitude from her that Dante tried not to roll his eyes at.

  The chooch.

  He remembered their interaction earlier when the Reaper had brought her breakfast. A few expressions had flashed across her features before she'd finally landed on skeptical.

  But for the briefest moment, he saw excitement in her eyes when she'd seen the scones. Was she fond of blueberries? Was she just being polite? Or did she actually like that Casanova shit?

  Realizing they were leaving, and not in the direction of her apartment, he muttered profanities as he rushed to his car so he wouldn't lose them in the evening traffic.