Friends in High Places

by OnionDipshit

When a quirky young librarian from the one and only Limbo Public Library is almost killed on her way home, a heroic womanizing Dante saves her life. As the two become closer, Dante realizes that his family isn't the only one with a past. This girl is more than what she seems, and is ready to spread her wings and fly. Dante x OC.

1. A Perfect Stranger

Limbo City, 2 in the morning, light rain

When my eyes opened, I realized that the side of my face was suction-cupped to the check-out desk with my drool. How long have I been asleep? I thought. I yanked my heavy head free of the drool spot and looked hazily up at the library clock, a German cuckoo clock I bought at a yardsale for the library. It was still chiming and the little girl was coming out of the little wooden doors to water some painted flowers. I realized that the gloomy little song it played was what had woken me up, a messed up version of Wiegenlied, a German lullaby. Something was wrong with the little music box inside it, a piece was missing that made certain notes go down half a step on the scale. Ting- bong. Ting- bong. It had just turned 2, and I rolled my eyes at myself. This isn't what a head librarian is supposed to be doing at 2 am, I nagged to myself. The ancient old apple computer at my desk was still on, and the purplish galaxy wallpaper was glaring back at me heatedly, telling me the poor thing should have been turned off hours ago. I push the circular white power button and pick myself up out of the chair, straightening my generic black pencil skirt and tucking my greekish looking blackened brown hair behind my ears. A couple strands had gotten stuck to the side of my face from laying on it, and I hurriedly ran a tired hand through my disgustingly thick curls.

I wonder if Louis is still here. I look over at the far corner of my small public library and barely make out the puffy edge of Louis's coat hidden in a Horton Hears a Who bean-bag chair. I push up the thin bar of wood separating me from the rabble and trod over to the homeless man in the children's section. "Louis." I say, groggily. "Louis are you still awake?" A wrinkled up brown face turns to me and replies, "Is it time for me to leave Ms. Moses? You let me stay an awfully long time tonight, lady. Awfully kind of ya."

I give him a small smile. "I wish I could just let you stay here all night. But you know that the police don't really like that idea too well."

Louis laughs and says, "Oh, it's alright, Ms. Moses. You treat me too nice anyway. Always sharin' a nice breakfast, lunch... dinner too if I can't afford it." Louis stands up and picks up his military duffle bag beside him, then grabs his cane, feeling his way around the Thomas the Train trainset and the other Dr. Seus bean bags he had piled together to make a small bed.

"Speaking of the police and things like that, nobody strange came in here tonight did they? Anybody trying to steal something?" I asked Louis as he meandered over to me. His eyes closed and his face twisted up into one of disappointment. "Yeah," he grumbled, "Somebody tried to pick up that Bible again, you know, the one you let me read, ya brought from ya house?"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "The Bible again, huh?"

"Yeah, but this guy was different. He had a lighter in his hand, like he wanted to burn it!" My eyes snapped to Louis' in disbelief. "He tried to burn it? Louis, when did this happen!?"

"About three hours ago. I scared him off though. He dropped it on the ground when he ran but I put it back." Louis proceeds to point to where it is on the shelf. "It got a little tinge a flame on it though, but not much." I speed walk past Louis in the direction of my Bible and pick it off of the shelf to get a better look at the damage. The bottom of the Bible had a bit of black on it, where the binding had started to burn. "This is ridiculous," I muttered, "Louis, I'm just going to take this home. This has been in my family for such a long time, I couldn't bare to see anything else happen to it..."

"I understand, Ms. Moses," agreed Louis, grabbing his backpack off the floor and swinging it slowly over his shoulder. "Ain't it strange, Ms. Moses? That Bible stirred up a lot of trouble around here, but it's the Word of God! It's like, when people in this messed up town see it, they go crazy on that thing."

I thought back on all the other times people had tried to steal it or tear it up and I started to feel terrible inside. "These people are brainwashed, Louis. I swear they are." With the Bible in my hands I feel like I can distance myself from them, like it's the only clean thing left. I rub my eyes and walk over to Louis. I take his hand and help him to the door, grabbing my black button up detective coat from the back of my chair as we pass by the desk. I grab a couple of grocery bags and double them to hide my Bible on the way home. Maybe if no one can see what it is I won't have any trouble.

I walk out the door with Louis and take my pink key ring out of my coat pocket. "I'll bring you something really good tomorrow, Louis, some biscuits and gravy or something from the diner. Real hardy." I said quietly, jerking the key around in the lock until the warped wooden doors to the library finally click shut. A light, chilly rain was misting down, and I wanted to make sure Louis would be alright. We always double checked before I went home. "You've got your blanket, haven't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm good to go. You head on home, it's gettin' late, lady. And be sure no crazies steal that book."

I looked at the poor little crippled man in front of me and grabbed his shoulder, thankful for his presence. I walked him over to the big wooden bench beside the front doors and pulled out his blanket from his pack. Feeling warmth spread from my heart all the way to my chilled finger tips, I formed a small bubble around the bench like always, an invisible white shield to protect him from any demonic forces that might come to visit. I put the red plaid blanket over him and whispered, "Keep warm, then, and I'll see you in the morning. You better believe I'm protecting this with my life."

Although the rain was light, it had still managed to soak through my jacket. Why didn't I take the car today? Oh yeah, because I ate a granola bar and decided I needed to exercise more. Either way, my apartment wasn't very far from the library, maybe 3/4 of a mile. But going through this shit hole of a city at half past two in the wee hours of the morning with a huge Bible isn't exactly a walk in the park. It was officially freezing now, and I could feel the color draining from my cheeks and bare hands, even if they were shoved deep down in my pockets. The grey air of my breath followed me around, like my own little cold cloud, and water droplets covered the plastic bag like carbonation.

I was swiftly approaching a nightclub that my girlfriends' and I sometimes go to called Lilith's. Bass pounded through the paper thin cement walls of the club, and strange electronic sounds poured out onto the sidewalk, echoing on the buildings across the street. An eerie green light shown from inside, going on and off as people went in and out of the place. The lights very dimly illuminated this little patch of Limbo City in a hauntingly unripe color.

"Come on, Dante! I can't wait to get you home, baby." Some slutty blonde "angel" in a silver string bikini was staggering out of the club holding on to a chiseled looking street rat in a wife beater. He was chugging a bottle of Chivas Regal and holding onto another angel with a short bob died a disgustingly dingy pink. She had her hands on his stomach, tracing the lines in his abdominal muscles. Dropping the now empty bottle on the ground and letting it shatter, the dark haired man grabbed the blonde girl and began making out with her, grabbing her ass and pulling her hair, while the girl with the pink hair hailed a cab, saying things like, "Oh my God!" and "I wish you would do that to me, Dante!"

A dinky little yellow cab stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, the silhouette of a fat, probably bald, man hit the back windows, and the cab's only bumper sticker was an advertisement for Virility. The girl walked up to the cab as the driver rolled his window down and she began talking to him, her forearms on the window and her butt in the air as she bent over to tell him to wait. She strutted back over to her angel friend and her catch and stepped in between them, begging for attention and putting her lipstick smeared mouth all over him.

After a few seconds I realized that I had stopped and had been staring at this scene for about a minute now. My face turned red. It was like I was a Bible clutching peeping Tom! Talk about get a room! But, it was so entertaining to watch! Like in a bad action movie where the douchey main guy finally gets it on with a big boobed ditz in the back of his black El Camino with a machine gun strapped to the hood. I wrapped my jacket closer around my 23-year-old-virgin-librarian-and-proud body and put my head down, pushing myself past this motley crew with my grocery bag full of Holiness now clutched against me. All of a sudden, a tall womanizer drenched in Chivas walked into me, knocking me off my balance but not knocking me down.

I had dropped the Bible on the wet sidewalk! Oh no, I thought, Did they see it? Do they know what it is? I scrambled on top of it and slid it back down into the bag, my already frozen legs now soaked with rain water. I stood back up and angrily looked around to see if they noticed. That douchebag! He deserves a good verbal slap for this!

"Hey! Watch where you're-"

Blue eyes. Big blue eyes were staring directly into mine. He was so attractive. Damn. Damn him. Damn it why is he so attractive? He's just here to find a bimbo to fuck and never call back, even after they write their numbers in lipstick on his bathroom mirror because they think their being creative and sexy. He's done this so many times, to so many different sluts, who knows which ones he actually remembers. His eyebrows are sleek, black, and slanted into a fierce look over his eyes, and his black shaggy hair was hanging just over them. It was insane.

"S-..." he paused, looking directly at me. "Sorry?" he said, drunkenly, slurred. He said it questioningly almost, like he didn't understand why I didn't want a random drunk guy standing over me. I didn't know what to do, so I just looked at him for a second, waiting for him to make the first move, motioning that this interaction was over.

Suddenly he walked off to the cab with his whores and piled in. I was relieved, thinking for a second there that he was going to try and make a move on me. Screaming and shouting, kissing and ass-grabbing, the gang shut the car door as the man told the driver where to go.

He must be an ass man, I thought, thinking of how I don't have one.

Oh my gosh, pull yourself fucking together.

I flipped around and started speed walking down the sidewalk, clutching my poor Bible and watching the cab drive off in the same direction. I focused on the little car as it drove, teasing myself with the thought of him getting out again to talk to me. When the red tail lights disappeared around a corner, I stuck my head back down again and focused entirely on the way home, shaking the idiotic thing out of my head. I needed to focus on getting home. By now it must be 2:45, maybe even 3, and that was too close of a close call. I had to be back at the library at 8 tomorrow morning, so if I wanted a good enough sleep I'd better hurry.

I passed a few more obscure businesses and bars and approached an alleyway connecting to another street. A man in a hoodie was leaning up against the brick siding of the alley, looking down, I thought. My heels were making a light clicking sound, which seemed to grab his unwanted attention. I quickly passed him and stuffed my hand deeper into my pocket with the other one making sure the book didn't fall out this time. Who knows who or what that guy is, or what kind of things he thinks about doing. Several of my girlfriends have been assaulted by demons near here, so I'd better be careful.

I thought about the girls in the cab with Dante (even his name was perfectly suited to him). Would they be as afraid as me if they were in this situation? Or would they be even more afraid, since they were so familiar with sex and what it does to people? They didn't seem like demons to me, I didn't see a strange glow or something plain odd about them. But Dante, now that I think of it, had such unnaturally blue eyes. Maybe they really are natural, given his perfect physique it isn't that hard to believe. However, my neighbors pug dog turned out to be a Rage Spawn, so really, anything is possible.

Hang on a second.

Someone is behind me. Their footsteps are heavy and quick, like... running? I barely have time to blink before a sweaty hand covers my mouth and an arm wraps around my left arm and waist. This can't be happening to me! I tried to scream, but it was extremely muffled. I caught a glimpse of the person grabbing me and saw a flash of the mud brown hood I had seen earlier. He was trying to drag me back toward the alley he was standing in, and one of the heels on my strappy heels snapped under the pressure. The man grabbed my bag and threw it out of his way and onto the sidewalk. No! Kicking my useless shoe off, I used my now free arm to slam into his side, which might have hurt him a little bit but not enough to loosen his grip on me. I moved against him with all of my might, kicking him in the shins and ankles several times, which didn't help very much either. I was so scared I forgot to breathe, and the shadow of the alley was slowly enveloping me. He stuck his hand in my skirt and slammed my head to the wall.

My vision went blurry, and I could feel the contrasting warmth of my blood on my forehead in the frigid air. He flipped me around to face him, but I was so out of it I couldn't make out any facial features. He ripped a piece off of the bottom of my skirt with one hand, the other one was still covering my mouth somehow. But, wait. There was another hand holding a knife. The man had three arms.

I immediately wanted to throw up. The thing that was about to rape me was a demon. Suddenly the hand came off of my mouth to tie the piece of black cloth around it instead. He gagged me up, strands of my hair getting caught up in the quick knot he made. I smacked him away and tried to get up, but his strength was insane, and I never stood a chance. He knocked me back on the ground and took off my skirt. The cold air invaded and my legs began to shake even harder than they already had been. I was crying now, screaming under the piece of skirt as loud as I could, thrashing with all of my might against this unmovable thing.

"You're pretty. Don't worry, sweetie, I won't hurt ya too bad, I promise," he breathed, a terrible smell leaking from his mouth and sweaty body. He began to stroke my face and shh me, telling me what he was going to do to me. "I'm going to have my way with you, ya know. Take my time. Because you're mine for the night. You're mine."

He picked up his knife from the cement ground and turned it around in his third hand, as the other two were holding me down to keep me from kicking him. He spread my legs, and put the blade of the knife in the band of my underwear. He began to laugh, slowly, and I could now focus my vision on his face. His eyes were glowing under his hood the same demonic green that came from the lights at Lilith's. At first I only saw the pair, then three, then four, then five, six, seven...

ShhhhhINK!

The demon man's smile turned upside down, into a look of complete despair. Suddenly, he fell on top of me, a huge weight crushing my shaking body. I screamed under the fabric of my ruined skirt and squirmed like a bug under a boot. A hand reached over and yanked on the demon's shoulder, flipping him over and setting me free. I was still screaming as I reached around to untie the gag. My hands were shaky, and I couldn't get a hold of anything. When I finally wrenched the disgusting thing off of me and out of my mouth I ran my hands through my hair and looked over at the dead guy laying across from me.

"Hey! Hey, are you alright?" I snapped my eyes up at the hand that had saved my life. It was that Dante guy, and he was alone. He kneeled down beside me and said, "You never see a demon in Limbo City before or something? Calm down. It's over."

I looked up at the cloudy night sky and genuinely asked God if he was joking. I was panting and sweaty and soaked to the bone from the now pouring rain. "Of course I've seen demons in Limbo Shitty." I mumbled breathily. "I've just never had one try to rape me before." Dante smiled and grabbed for me, picking me up and leaning me against the brick wall of the alley.

"Well, you're crackin' jokes, so that's a good sign." he laughed, crossing his arms. I laughed in a sort of relief, wiping the tears from my eyes and pushing my mop of black curls out of my face, tracing my fingers over the new bloody bump on my head. I heard the water from my hair hit the brick and knew that I was drenched clear through to the bone. I was freezing and shaking somewhat uncontrollably.

"Here". Dante took off his long red coat and wrapped it around my shoulders. Before I could tell him it was too cold out for him to give me his only semi-dry piece of clothing, he went to the end of the alley and stuck out a hand, waving down a cab. Looking at him completely soaking wet from the rain made me think of one of the cheap Highlander Romance novels we have at the library. There was always a part in the book where the tremblingly female protagonist goes on and on about how "his muscles glistened in the moonlight" or how "his muscles glistened with sweat" and how sexy it is. There was always so much glistening in so many pages. Well, I think I might be in one of those books. It was almost laughable how $3-romance-novel this night had become, and to be honest with you, I didn't mind. This is what every girl dreamed of happening to them right after an attempted rape, right?

I walked towards him, my head pounding like mad, from both the face to wall action and the knight in red leather armor that came after that. I looked up and down the street searching for my poor family Bible and found it laying in a puddle next to a couple restaurant dumpsters. I quickly ran up to it and picked up the massive thing to quickly realize that it was ruined. It had taken on so much water that nearly every page was unreadable. Even the binding was mushy and easily broken. Even so, I put it back in the grocery bag and tucked it back under my arm, turning around to face Dante leaning on the cab.

"Let's get you home," he shouted through the rain, waving for me to hurry up. I jogged up to him barefoot as he opened the cab door and we both got inside. The seats squeaked with the rainwater and it smelled like cigarettes but I didn't care. It was cramped and dark, with only the glowing mile meter and radio lighting up the interior of the car. "Y-you don't have to take me home," I stuttered from the cold. "It's late. You should g-go h-home too."

"Am I drivin' ya or what lady, make up ya mind." growled the driver, sipping out of his 42 ounce cup of Virility.

"Hold on man, we're using the cab. Where do you live and I'll make sure you get there safely." said Dante loudly.

I smiled and said, "13 Church Street... Near the park."

"Church Street." the driver grumbled. In the mirror I could see that his eyes weren't green and I felt a lot better. I sat back in my seat clutching the Bible as firmly to my chest as I could.

The seat of this cab felt gross and wet, making me feel bad for whoever had to ride in it next. My legs were right against it now that my skirt was gone. That's when I realized that the only thing that I was wearing on my lower half were my German Pride underwear, which proudly displayed dozens of wiener schnitzels and cartoon talk bubbles that said HOW'S THE WIENER? Good Lord. I quickly through the book on top of my lap to cover up my pride.

"What's so important about that thing? What even is it?" Dante was looking at my sorry excuse for a grocery bag and was obviously trying to figure out what could take up so many pieces of paper.

"It's a dictionary." I lied quickly. I looked up at him to see if he bought it and it seemed to work, until he started laughing. His smile was more of a sneer, and when he laughed he always closed his eyes, like it was all just too much. That's when I noticed the small scars and cuts, bruises and stitches on his face, throat, and arms, illuminated by passing street lamps. I wondered what he did to earn them.

"Even I have a dictionary, so they aren't exactly rare, are they? Let me guess, it's one of those dumb vampire romance stories and you're just too embarrassed to tell me about it. Is that it?" Dante was giving me a funny look, and I couldn't help but smile. "No, that's not it." I replied quietly, edging him on to guess again.

Dante suddenly put his hand on my head to look at my battle wound, which kind of hurt when he touched it, but I didn't say anything. "No, you're not that sort of girl. You're more of a history buff, aren't you? Battle of Waterloo shit, right? Am I right?"

We turned right into my neighborhood, and the taxi driver said, "She must be, look at this place man!" We all looked out the rain covered windows to my neighborhood, filled with massive houses and luxury apartments, all of which contained some of the wealthiest people in Limbo City. Sometimes even I forget about how pretty it is. "Some of these places are 200 years old. Old money baby, ya know what I mean?" the driver laughed.

Dante smiled and said, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

The driver slowed down to get a better look of the place, and the two were constantly pointing out things to each other, like how expensive that car was or how big her fake tits are. We were a few feet away when I said, "This one coming up on the right is mine. You can just pull into the driveway."

"You live in Limbo City and you have a driveway?" asked Dante with the hint of amazement in his voice.

"Driveways are a status symbol, huh?" I asked, teasingly.

"In my book they are! Come on, let's get you inside."

The driver pulled into the driveway and unlocked the doors, turned around and said, "It wasn't too long a distance, so it's $10. And $5 for takin' your whores back to Lillith's, Dante."

Dante rolled his eyes and pulled his wallet out of the back of his pants. "You're a greedy old bastard, aren't ya Mikey?" Mikey the driver started laughing and Dante kept digging through his wallet, exclaiming, "Well, after I go to the club you know I'm all outta singles so I'll just give you a twenty and you can keep the change for another night, okay Mikey?"

"Alright bud, you sure you don't need me to stay and give you a ride back to the fairground?" asked Mikey. Dante curled up his lip and shook his head, saying, "I need my exercise."

I got out of the car and thanked Mikey, waving to him as he left. "Old friend?" I asked Dante. I pulled out my pink key ring and began walking up towards the house. "Sure. You can say that." I smiled at him and shook my head, walking up the stairs to my front door.

The house was a three story white mansard, the first house in Limbo City (It was only Limbo back then). It had a wrap around porch and yes, a garage, added on in the twenties for my great grandfather's black 1929 Duesenberg Model J with red trim and seats (which I still have). It has five bedrooms, three full baths, and two half baths as well as a library, servant quarters, drawing room, and sunroom with a screened in porch. Every time I unlock the door to my home I think about that, and I think about Louis sitting out in the cold because the neighborhood won't let him in. I think about the two slutty angels going home to a single bedroom apartment that they share with four other people. And I think about myself, living here with nothing but a cat and some books for company in a house meant for a family that I don't have anymore. Then I turn the key and walk into the foyer, desperate to forget.

I lean there against the doorway and look at Dante standing with me on the porch. He was soaking wet, and in the yellow glow of the porch light I could see all of his features for the first time, and he could see mine.

"Nice panties."

I could feel myself blush a bright pink, and I quickly took his jacket off of my shoulders and handed it back to him. It smelled like sweat, cheap perfume, cigarettes, Chivas Royal, and him. He had a unique smell that I didn't dislike in the least. It reminded me of how a man, a gentleman, is supposed to smell- Oh God I've been reading too many Highlander romance novels. I blushed even harder at that thought and looked at my toes, which I had painted blue a few days before.

"Dante," I semi-mumbled. He looked at me more intensely now. "Please come in. You can..."

I was having a hard time forming words here. Dante was looking directly at me, emotionless, with his red coat slung over his shoulder.

"You can what?" he teased. I looked at him like a deer caught in headlights. I started inwardly choking myself for the preposterous idea of continuing to talk to this man in the middle of the night frozen solid in 10 degree weather.

"Dante," I semi-mumbled, looking at how the porchlight reflected on the navy blue of my toes. As I looked up again, his eyes were already on mine, and I could have sworn I could see myself in them they were so clear and sharp. "Why do you have to go to the fairground at 4 in the morning?" There were so many things I wanted to ask, but that was the most I could get out for the moment. I could just picture Dante with a hand full of cotton candy as big as his head riding around all night on the tea cups.

Dante gave a small grin and mumbled back, "I've got a trailer over there. It's where I spend most of my time," he paused, "When I'm not working, I guess you could call it."

I was starting to feel really tired, and I closed my eyes and sighed at the man my weird mind had decided to suddenly become extremely attracted to. "You live in a trailer at the fairground? You've got to be kidding me, man. Only weirdos and tourists go to the fairground, you know that."

"You callin' me a weirdo for living at the fairground, babe? What would someone who lives in the biggest house in Limbo City know about my trailer anyway? You got your piece of paradise and I've got mine."

I gave him a wide smile and laughed, crossing my arms and propping myself up against the door frame. Across the street, I could see a light on at Mrs. Washam's house, and her little busy-body frame peeking out from behind her lace curtains. Remembering that the head librarian was standing out in the open in nothing but my German pride underwear and a messed up, unbuttoned black jacket talking to a stripper loving street rat, I immediately wrapped my coat around me again and backed up into the house. Oh God, I thought, I'm sure this'll get around.

I was having a hard time forming words here. Dante was looking directly at me, a questioning look on his face, with his red coat slung over his shoulder. "The neighbors," I said, "She saw me out here half naked! Come in, quick." I grabbed him and pulled him inside, shutting the door faster than the speed of sound behind him.

Dante started laughing with that sexual snear all over his face. "No seriously, that lady's been trying to kick me out of the neighborhood since Daddy died."

What do I do now? I don't want him to have to walk home in the rain, but if he stays here that bitch ass across the street might have me arrested for all I know! They wouldn't let me give Louis a place to stay, so what will the housing committee say about Dante? It reminded me of all the trouble Mrs. Washam caused about 10 years ago now, after Daddy and Mother were in the car accident.

Not even a day after my parents had died that bitch was at my doorstep, ready to kick me out on my tail so that she could take the house. She was so jealous of me and the money Daddy left me in the will, old family money tracing its' way back to 1666, when Limbo was founded by my grandfather, Nathaniel Moses. Mrs. Washam always claimed that her family were the original inhabitants of my property, even though the Moses family graveyard was laid to rest not but a few hundred feet from the house. The name Washam doesn't even appear in Limbo City documents until the early 1900s, when they started a jewelry store in the old town. The family is made up of nothing but trouble makers, always chasing after the things they want no matter the cost.

"I shouldn't be here." Dante's sudden outburst brought me back to earth. "It's four in the morning and I know I'm not exactly the nicest guy in the world."

I laughed. "Compared to that whore across the street you're an angel. Stay for a minute if you want."

"I should go back home, and you should get some sleep. You've had a rough night, and God, I don't even know your name, sweetheart." He ran a quick hand through his hair and laughed, reaching for the door. "I've overstayed my welcome."

Whatever look I gave him next made his cheeky snear turn down at the edges. I wrapped my arms around myself and stared at him sadly. Who says I can't have friends besides the homeless man at the library? I can befriend the randomly bloodsoaked womanizer too, right?

"My name is Bellatrix. Bellatrix Moses." Dante froze and gave me an odd look. He dropped his hand from the doorknob and I took the opportunity to shake it before he tried to run off again. Dante smiled and he gave a firm handshake, his hands rough in places and callused in others.

"Bellatrix?" he halfway mumbled. "That's an intense name."

"Thanks." I said confidently, letting go of his hand and leaving my perfectly practiced handshake. "It means female warrior. Like a gladiatrix or something." I laughed at how silly I sounded pretending he actually cared about what my name meant.

Dante shook his head. "That's awesome. I would have thought your name was something generic. Like Rachel, or Lauren. But no, Bellatrix describes you perfectly I think. I mean, you're not exactly like most of the girls in Limbo City."

My eyebrows were raised in disbelief, since usually I was either laughed at or compared to the Harry Potter character. Also, I look like a Lauren? But the other thing he said, about me being different from other girls made me smile. He basically just told me that I wasn't an all around bitch! Sweet!

Now we were both standing in the front entryway; I had successfully maneuvered him away from the door, possibly peeking his interest in getting to know me further. For some reason the thought of becoming friends with this man felt good, some kind of achievement for a little lonely librarian girl to be proud of. The warmth of my house and its' smell was comforting after a long night out in the rain and a welcoming glow of the old Tiffany lamps made the space feel cozy. Maybe it was just because there was a visitor, something the house hadn't had for 5 years, atleast. Or maybe it was because I wasn't the only one who was proud of myself for making a new friend, but the house too. The house was the only part of my family that I had left; lucky for me they had never left. I still had the memories, and I put them into that big old house each with their own room and nook and cranny and cupboard. Dante didn't just shake my hand, but the congratulatory hand of my family as well.

I felt good, even if I was tired, and I wanted him to stay. I knew I had to say something pretty quick, or else he might walk out that door back to the fairground never to be seen again.

"Dante," I began, "If I asked you to stay, would you?"

The scraggly, strapping young man with dark hair and blue eyes pondered for a second before finally agreeing. "Sure, I'll stay. You having a sleepover or something?"

I was beyond delighted and giggly. "Well, you don't have to braid my hair but I'm up for the company!" I healthily laughed my usual way: loud and crashing. This made him laugh, and together we moved toward the living room.

The living room - or sitting room - was to the right, through two stained glass double doors with ivy and purple flowers on them. It's walls were painted a calm and studious earthy green, with natural wood crown molding and ancient hardwood floors. Of any room in the house, this is definitely where I felt the most comfortable. The only thing about the room that I had changed when my parents passed away were the old victorian couches, for which I traded for a much more comfier reclining one from Rooms to Go. For shame.

"This is the living room. It's very comfortable here, and is where I spend most of my time other than the library or the kitchen." I said, proud of my home and eager to show it off. Dante looked impressed, but mostly intrigued by the portrait of my mother that hung on the wall.

"This woman is gorgeous," he said as he edged closer towards the painting. "Who is she?"

I joined him where he stood looking so intently at the picture and grinned longingly at the beautiful woman in the picture. "That's my mother, Rosamunde Margot Bachmeier Moses. Kind of a mouthful, but I think a person as beautiful and good as she deserves a name just as noble."

Dante crossed his arms and said, "So your mother was German?"

"Yes," I quickly replied. "She was born and raised there. My father met her on a vacation to Munich when they were both about 20 years old. Although I've never been there she taught me a lot about Germany. I speak the language fluently, but I never really get a chance to speak it anymore."

"That's pretty neat. You and her look a lot alike, you know? Your hair, your eyes, your nose, your skin. Just glancing at that picture you would think it was you."

Pushing my huge brownish-black curls behind my ears I thanked him. "She was a wonderful person."

Dante shifted back over to me and frowned. "I don't remember anything about my mother. I don't think I ever even met her really."

My face made it obvious that I was shocked about what he had just said and he quickly explained. "She died when I was real young in some kind of accident; they never really made that clear at the orphanage. I had a really bad fever when I was about 7 years old, and it made me forget everything I'd ever lived up to that point. So who knows what I really had, because I can't remember for the life of me- probably never will."

Dante looked really depressed and his normally defiant stance had turned into one of a little boy realizing that he had lost everything. Patting him on the shoulder, I reassured him that his mother was probably a good woman. "I'm sure she was only doing what she had to."

He looked down at me with his big blue eyes and quietly laughed. "Yeah," he whispered. "Whatever."