Demonic Intentions

Chapter 1

The mid-day sun shone through the tall glass windows of the run-down church. Or, at least, what was left of the windows, as most of the colored panes had been shattered by the neighborhood children during one of their regular skirmishes. This was a strange place to meet a client, Dante thought, but as long as they could pay, he would accept it.

He sat down in the upstairs choral enclave, choosing the darkest corner of the large chapel automatically and positioning himself so as to have a full view of the rest of the church.

No sooner had he gotten himself settled, than a woman entered the church, her eyes focused on the large crucifix standing behind the alter. He stayed silent as she moved toward the front of the church, lowering herself carefully onto one of the oak pews. She carefully moved an errant strand of her long, chocolate brown hair out of her brilliant green eyes, and tucked it behind her ear. She fidgeted nervously, her attention shifting around the room as she tried to take everything in.

Dante set himself to the task of observing this woman, wondering if she could possibly be the client he had been waiting for. He hoped so, because his client was running late. As he watched, she began picking at the peeling lacquer beside her, sending a shower of little golden flecks to the tiled floor.

Seeing no one else in the church, he moved from his position, approaching the girl from behind. He slid into the pew beside her, leaning back casually.

The silver-haired man's sudden appearance next to her set her into a flurry of motion. She gave a small yelp and snapped her head toward him, gripping the edges of her seat tightly. Her dazzling green eyes widened in fear as they locked on to his silvery-blue ones, flicking to the weapons clearly displayed at his back and waist, and back again. Panic appeared rapidly in her eyes, and she bolted to her feet, sprinting out of the building.

"Wait," Dante called after her, but by the time the word was out, the heavy doors were slamming shut behind her. With a frustrated grunt, he stood and brushed off his red duster. "What the hell was that?" he muttered to himself as he resettled his clothing around him. Shaking his head at the endless flightiness of women, he strode casually out the doors after her. Looking up and down the street, he spotted her just as she turned a corner and loped easily after her, rapidly reaching the corner and turning after her.

Meanwhile, the heavy wooden doors opening and shutting echoed hollowly in the now-empty church as a dignified man dressed in an expensive suit entered the decaying chapel and looked around for the famous demon hunter he had arranged to meet. The metal suitcase containing enough money for the down payment on his case was attached with a barely visible chain to his wrist and locked securely.

He made his way to the center of the dilapidated building, glancing around curiously at the seemingly-empty room. Glancing down at his watch, he breathed an impatient sigh before sitting down to wait for the inappropriately-absent demon hunter.

When the brunette woman finally stopped, it was outside a building on a slightly ruined street. She looked up and recognized the name displayed on the building vaguely, having heard an acquaintance talk about 'Devil Never Cry' and the demon hunter who ran it. The demon hunter whose help she desperately needed.

Dante slowed into his easy, strident walk as he neared the woman he had been chasing for the past six blocks. He walked up behind her, his boots silent on the cracked concrete. Smirking when she failed to notice his presence, he decided, in a rare moment of uncharacteristic whimsy, to repay the trouble she had caused him. He moved in close behind her and spoke casually.

"Are you the client that called?"

She jumped violently and spun with a yelp of surprise and fear to face him.

He merely raised a questioning eyebrow at her startled expression, looking down at her blandly. He blinked when she stayed silent, and that simple action seemed to loosen her tongue.

"N-no…" she stuttered in reply, her voice rapidly losing its lingering fear, leaving just the surprise behind. "But I need your help." Her voice gained urgency to replace the surprise, as she realized that this man was not a threat to her.

A small, cocky smirk curved Dante's lips marginally and he moved forward to open the door for her. He stood back and gestured for her to precede him into his office with a simple, "Come in."

She nodded haltingly and, clasping her hands tightly and keeping them at her chest, walked hesitantly through the door. Her expression continued to be distressed, despite how valiantly she tried to hide it.

Dante followed her closely, making certain the door shut behind him, as he observed her nervous perusal of the messy office.

"Do you have a name lady?" he asked, sauntering to his desk and sitting down. He leaned back in his worn chair, letting his feet thump onto the desk beside the phone.

"Yes…" she responded meekly, lowering her eyes to the stained floor. "It's Crystal."

"And what do you need my services for, Crystal?" he asked slowly, his patience with her timidity rapidly wearing thin. Though she wasn't half bad to look at, he thought, letting his eyes slide down her slender frame and back up. Even if it wouldn't hurt for her to grow a few of Trish's curves. Knowing that somewhere, Trish was getting a sudden, inexplicable urge to cause him pain, Dante rapidly pulled his thoughts away from that vein.

Crystal twisted her hands together nervously as she slowly stepped towards the desk, then turned and took three steps away before turning back and moving toward him again, her eyes darting around the office rapidly. She bit her lower lip lightly as she fidgeted, moving back and forth in a five step pattern.

Dante could feel his patience getting ready to dissolve, but he clenched his jaw to keep from snapping at her. She was still a woman, and she seemed to need his help. If this went on much longer, however, he couldn't promise to be as understanding.

Just as he was about to yell at her, she turned toward him and spoke suddenly. "Protection," she blurted her voice quite a bit louder than it really needed to be. That seemed to ease her tension some, and she continued in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone, or something, was listening in on their conversation. "I am being chased."

Dante gave a disgruntled sigh and let his feet fall to the floor with a loud thump. He propped his elbows on his desk and looked at her, resting his chin lightly on his folded hands. His relaxed gaze met her panicked one for a long moment.

"Look, I don't do protection," he stated flatly, keeping his eyes on her. "That is what the police are for." And frankly, he added mentally, I'm done letting you waste my time. He let some of his anger at her request show in his eyes as he narrowed them at her.

He pushed off the desk with his elbows, propelling himself back into a reclining position and stretching his legs out in front of him.

Crystal met his anger with her own. She knew very well that the police were worthless, at this point. They certainly hadn't done anything to protect her yet why should that change now? Fed up, she dropped her 'scared, helpless female' act and narrowed her eyes at him, flattening her hands on the desk and leaning towards him. Her voice was low and tight with barely restrained fury when she spoke.

"Look," she started, her eyes practically sparking with the force of her glare. "I. Need. Help." She stressed each of the words individually, putting a considerable amount of force into the short sentence. "I have killed demons myself but with how many I know are now being sent after me I cannot damn well kill them all," she growled rapidly. "But, if you would like to find a human body stretched out across your office steps dead rather than help me, fine. Because the moment I step out of that door, there will be a swarm of demons all over me, you mark my words."

With the last, angry words spat out of her mouth, Crystal turned and stalked toward the door, fists clenched, her shoulders heaving as she took deep breaths, righteous fury holding her posture rigid.

Dante was taken aback at the sudden change in her demeanor and could do no more than stare as she exploded. He barely processed her words, instead wondering which of her attitudes was falsified, the frightened innocent or infuriated hellcat. Despite a niggling thought that he hoped it was the former, as the hellcat was strangely alluring, the guilt-trip she laid on him was more than irritating. But if she was lying, the little snip was a good actress, and he didn't want to take the chance of her being killed. Just as she reached the door, he called out, "Stop, fine I'll help."

Crystal paused with her hand outstretched, but made no move to return to her previous position. "What?" she asked calmly, letting her hand fall to her side, but not turning to face him.

"I'll help," Dante repeated resignedly, but couldn't stop himself from adding, "Just stop acting like a bitch." Even if he was giving in, he was pissed off at her manner of persuasion, and nothing in the world could make him gracious at that point.

Crystal spun with a glare at his remark, but didn't say a word out of fear that he would change his mind. She strode briskly back over to him and rested her weight on her left side, resting her hands on her hips lightly.

"I don't know how much I can pay you," she stated imperiously, "considering I had to leave behind everything I had." The look in her eyes clearly ordered he accept that, or she would make him sorry.

Dante had had enough of her attitude. "I don't care," he stated, the only emotion in his voice exhaustion. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," he offered with false lightness, pointing to the sofa.

Crystal eyed the sofa with slight disdain, but moved to sit on it anyway. She finally allowed her mind to process the office, and couldn't help but notice what a pig sty it was. Even if she disregarded the tarnished hardwood floors and worn furniture, and the fact that the sofa she was sitting on didn't seem to have been cleaned in several decades (she didn't even want to think about the kind of pestilence that might be living beneath it), the dozens of empty liquor bottles and posters of naked women did not give even the beginnings of a good first impression. The only thing in the office that seemed worth anything was the drum set nearby, but even that was hard to see any value in, considering the veritable sea of old whiskey and beer bottles surrounding it.

Well, you've certainly gotten yourself into a fine spot this time, haven't you? Crystal sneered to herself mentally.