Chapter 3
It was difficult to tell what exactly happened. One second, they were peacefully walking down the hall with Twila and her pet Grim in front leading. The next second, she had let off a bloodcurdling shriek and Dante soon found himself nearly toppled over with the white-skinned compact frame of the woman practically attached to him.
When he had finally found a way to see passed her quivering form, he almost dropped her to burst out laughing. Skittering off down the hallway like a bat out of Hell away from the sniffing Touqel was a spider. A minute little thing, barely a pinprick on the brilliant red carpet of the hallway. Nothing that anyone should be afraid of.
He watched with grand amusement as the Grim followed the arachnid further down the hallway, poking it with his nose from time to time before being a dog and eating it. Once done, he came trotting back with what Dante took to be the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen.
"That was just disgusting, Mutt." he sighed before looking down at the cowering ball of flesh and fabrics in his arms where she had eventually come to rest. "It's gone now."
She shook a little more, said nothing, and amused the hunter ever further.
"Come on. I know you can talk. You'd be one of those few I couldn't forget so easily."
He shifted her just a little bit so he could hold on to her better, a hand moving up to barely brush her bare lower right arm. He damn near dropped her in surprise; through the glove of his own hand, he clearly felt the chill smoothness of her white skin, never mind the leather between her flesh and his own. She moved then, gripping tightly to him.
"It touched dhe floor. Do not put me down. Please..."
A few awkward moments passed, Dante getting steadily annoyed by her arachnophobia now. "Oh come on. That's just ridiculous. The fucking dog ate it. It's dead and gone. It's not coming back."
A couple more moments passed by before she turned her head, red eyes narrowed at Touqel. "Dhat is despicable, Touqel."
The Grim responded by perking his ears forward and tilting his head to one side with a small questioning whine, the whip of a tail beginning to wag gently for a second before his ears flattened to the crown of his head. His narrow jackal-shaped nose was tilted upward toward his mistress.
"Do not even dhink of trying to lick me for repentance of dhe matter. I do not want it all over me..."
Touqel gave a hurt whine, his ears flattening still further against his skull, and he backed up a little bit.
"Eat somedhing to wash it down and dhen we will talk."
A 'merf' noise was emitted from the creature before he backed up some more and lowered his head again. Twila, upon seeing her pet move away, wrapped her little arms around Dante's neck, reaching a foot down. Her toe touched the floor, bounced up and held a moment. Upon seeing whatever she was afraid of not happening, she set the entire foot down and slid slowly from his frame.
When her arms were leaving, the skin brushed by his throat, irking a small noise from him. The air suddenly fell still and silent, Twila turning her head gracefully to look at him. Or more like glare at him. It was a basilisk's stare, the red of it seeming to seer the insides of his body.
"Hear that?" he started.
Her eyes narrowed further. "What?"
"That crackling." He was trying to draw attention away from his slip, obviously. "I think that's the air freezing."
A low growl was given as his reply, the glare remaining, as she turned away. "I do not appreciate..." This word was spoken in Russian. "...Making dhose sorts of comments. It is one of my pet peeves."
And so the procession began again, with Twila flanked by Touqel up front and Dante behind. But he liked the view better from back there; he had just taken up notice a sort of swivel in her hips and would have been rather reluctant to give that sight up. The sway seemed to be a rhythm which her entire body followed; even her hair followed it lightly, the curled tips of it resting at her knees swaying one way, then the other in the same beat as her hips.
They were almost to the stairs when a familiar short figure came running up to meet them. It was Marci, the short-haired twin that resided within the walls of the manor. She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and bowed, casting her oddly-colored eyes to Twila as the elder slowed to a stop. Touqel slowed with his mistress, taking a seat next to her and lowering his head in a small bow of his own in reply to the younger's.
"Big Sister, Brother Zefitsuroi is in the main foyer. He requests an audience with you regarding recent events." Marci relayed, rising to a standing position and reaching forward to pet the top of the Grim's head. "He says he has information in regards to the whereabouts of the one who escaped."
Touqel's ears rose in a perk as he pushed against the girl's hand lovingly, a twitch given in the right corner of Twila's mouth. That was probably all the smiling she chose to give at that moment. "Very well. Tell him dhat I will be down shortly."
The little Romanian girl bowed again (mostly to the immense dog, who bowed back) before turning about and running down the stairs. Her voice carried up, though it was not directed to the group on the floor she had just left. "Maci! Tell him she'll be right down!"
There was a muffled call from down below somewhere, Twila beginning her trek again. Her face was turned to the Grim next to her, biding him to follow her down. However, there were no words exchanged with the devil hunter behind her.
Needless to say, Dante did not like being disregarded as such. He kept his startlingly blue gaze on Touqel, waiting for him to fall out of step. It was not until they reached the staircase that she stopped to allow her companion to lead downstairs.
Though Touqel made it down the stairs, his mistress did not make it passed the top step. The contact was not much, but it was enough it prohibited her from moving apparently. Dante now stood next to her, leaning his right arm on her left shoulder, holding her where she stood. She had not even changed poses, still standing with her right foot barely suspended over the edge of the stair she was on, her right hand on the fine wood railing.
His head tilted just slightly, right cheek almost resting on the top of her cranium. "You know, I don't like being ignored." he began, keeping his voice low in volume in the case that there were ears other than their own in the general vicinity. "We do still need to discuss payment for my services here."
A low growl left her, no words coming from her at first. Was that a threat? Whether it was or not didn't matter to him. He held his ground at her side, if anything moving his arm a little closer to her neck.
It was then she spoke, her own tone low and indeed very threatening. "Remove your arm or I will do so for you."
He replied with a short whistle and a small laugh. His face was soon split into that cocky grin of his, his head moving again so that his mouth was right next to her left ear. "I would love to see you try and make me." he dared, grin widening just slightly at it. If this did not piss her off any more than she was now, nothing would.
Well, it certainly had pissed her off further and God only knew now how thankful he was for his reflexes in that one moment. There were no twitches in the muscles of her body that preceded the movement of anything; she just moved, a flurry of raven locks and red skirts, the soles of her well-worn shoes balanced precariously and perfectly upon the very edge of the step she was on. Her left arm shifted upward to move his arm from her shoulder, her right hand moving in an attempt to grip it at the joint of his shoulder. Her lips parted but barely, though the roar that graced the air was anything but small, loud enough to have a residual growl follow it.
As she moved, he uttered a small grunt of surprise and pulled his arm from her reach, taking a step back with his right leg. The move turned his body to the side, thus making it more difficult for her to grasp the offending arm. Though she did try to go for his left arm after he shifted, he bent his right knee so that it touched the floor, his hands moving quickly. The light in the hall glinted off the fine silver metal and the black carbon of both his favored pistols, the barrels lifted and aimed. The gaping maw of Ivory found the crevice between the other's breasts, Ebony finding its way between her jaws.
"Make another move, you can say goodnight." he warned, though a smirk still remained plastered across his handsome visage.
She growled, the feeling of the noise generating a small vibration down the barrel, through the stock, and into the hand holding it. An eyebrow lifted on his face, his gaze shifting to the gun.
"If you can do that, we'll have to test this out in other ways, won't we?" He was pushing his limits and he knew it. The temperature in the immediate vicinity around the two suddenly dropped, accompanied by a sudden depletion in light. If he had to guess, he would say she was now more than just a little pissed.
He caught the glint of what little light there was left off the claw-like fingernails of her right hand as it moved and struck toward his head. Unfortunately for her, his trigger finger was faster. There was a click, a loud bam!, and then a thud. Amazingly, there was not much blood splatter. If there was, it was now all over the already red carpeting of the hallway.
A sigh left him as he rose and, after a quick inspection of Ebony for any marks in the surface, he reholstered the twin guns. When they had been locked back into place, he set his gaze now upon the headless corpse lying in the middle of the floor. "What a waste..." he muttered to himself, stepping over her to walk down the stairs. However, he kept his eye on her; he just couldn't shake the feeling that she would really throw herself away like that, that there was something more to her than just her odd (though quite fitting) vampiric appearance.
His hand was barely lifting off the top post for the banister when it was slammed back into the wood rather painfully by something. His teeth grit as he held it in when his fingers were ground into, his eyes cast now to whatever it was that held him. He knew it; Twila's left foot had struck out, the heel of her boot catching and holding his hand in place. She was pushing herself up into a sitting position, her head grotesquely reforming itself slowly, but surely. At that particular moment, it was resetting the muscles and the like to her skull. His attention, however, was directed to the structure of her teeth as they reset. He had to admit, that kind of scared him a tad. Mostly the sheer size of the things. Those could cause some pretty awful scars if she decided to use them for some reason, considering the uneven light patterns along the edges of each and every one of those triangular daggers.
Thankfully, her skin came relatively fast for being added in layers, her lips covering the mouthful of shark's teeth effectively. Even color that had been put there manually returned; her lips regained the brilliant red they were painted with, her upper eyelids with the extremely pale purple that accented them so well. The eyeballs popped (audibly popped) back into existence behind them, filling out the light curve that was natural for the upper eyelids. Her raven locks were the final piece to come in, the strands growing as one.
Dante took that point in time where she just sat there letting her hair grow to yank his hand free from under the heel of her shoe, rubbing the back where the sole had made contact. By now, it was only a sting. Slowly, he made his way down the stairs, keeping an eye on her the whole way down. Right before he left that stairwell, her eyes flew open, taking in the sight of him retreating. Or at least that was how she took it. He called it giving her space so that in the case of an attack from her, he could make certain that he had time to deal out a counter-attack.
She moved fast, though. He blinked as he left the stairs and ended up looking in her narrowed glaring eyes when he opened his own. "Good morning, Sunshine." he greeted, that same annoying smirk crossing his face. His retreat had been stopped by the wall on the far side of the hall, her frame stopping dead in front of him with only a foot between them.
Her eyes narrowed still further, deepening the glare. Her right hand moved up to grab the left side of his coat's collar, yanking him down to meet her eye to eye. Three words spilled from her, dripping with pure unadulterated disgust so thick, one could cut it with a knife. "I hate you."
The smirk widened a little into a small grin. "If you think you hate me now, you're about to loathe me." he replied.
She had opened her mouth to retort, but nothing of such nature ever left her lips at that moment. His right hand lifted to wrap the fingers about her pointed chin to hold her head, his left one held at his side as if to show her it was not doing anything it shouldn't. The next move was fast, every muscle in his upper body seeming to fire at once until his lips had come into contact with hers.
She wanted to struggle, wanted to pull back from him but there was something that prevented her from even moving a finger, much less her entire body. Every muscle in her body worked at it but she only managed to pull the slender fingers of her right hand into a fist. The nails drove into her palm, causing a small spill of blood to rush forth, the brilliant red seeming to stain the white skin of her hand. It appeared as though she was trying to pull herself back into moving of her own will by causing physical pain.
Had he been able to, Dante would have grinned quite broadly at the sight of her so ... flustered. Slowly, cautiously, he pulled his hand from her chin, giving her room now to move if she wanted to. A muscle in her left thigh twitched, but the leg refused to move, her balled and bleeding hand shaking violently now. It was quite apparent that she wanted his head, but something was keeping her from doing anything at all.
After what felt an eternity, he pulled away gingerly, a final breath leaving him and washing over her. The warm air seemed to have little fingers of its own, falling over her and touching every bit of skin it could reach (which was not much). Her entire body quaked and she was regaining her control over her body again when a massive shadow was cast over the two of them. There was a smear of black on the air and Dante was slammed against the wall he stood against, held to it.
The sheer force of the blow caused Twila to stumble back, caught by someone very much larger than she was. She recognized her rescuer immediately; the gunshot earlier had reached the cat ears of Zefitsuroi, he who had come to call.
His dual-colored eyes seemed to blaze from behind the pair of sunglasses upon his face. If one had to guess, they could say he was an unhappy ... thing. And what a thing he was.
He was immense, rising to a whopping six feet and ten inches. In comparison to his monstrous height, his build was thin and lithe, though toned. His flesh was a rich chocolate brown in color, contrasting amazingly against his ebon black hair. The mop of it fell to his waist in length, held back and out of the way of his face by a leather hair tie. Upon his face was perched a pair of clip-on sunglasses set upon the bridge of his nose, the lenses darkly tinted. They did hardly anything to obscure the monstrous man's gaze, his left eye colored peridot green while his right was a topaz blue. A pair of black cat's ears poked through the ebon black locks of hair, both of them lying flat to his skull while the fur stood out. From the base of his spine sprouted a black cat's tail, the entire appendage swinging around in agitation. His entire body was clad in a fine black suit, a pair of pressed slacks covering his long legs. The bottom hems of the pant legs covered the heels and back half of a pair of well-shined black shoes with square toes. His upper body was clad in a white dress shirt and a black jacket, both with the fronts hanging open, showing a toned body beneath. About his throat was a faded fraying maroon cat's collar, a rust-eaten bell dangling from the D-ring alongside a circle-shaped tag with small rust spots spreading over the chipping chrome plating. Under the collar was wrapped a fine silver chain, which held a charm in the shape of a swastika at about the middle of his chest.
His teeth were bared, his deep thunderous voice carrying on it a low feline-like growl. A few moments passed before he finally spoke, the growl still evident in his voice, though his words were laced with a heavy German accent.
"Ze next time I see you even brushing by her, I vill put you in your grave so fast, you vill still zink you valk zis earth..."
The monstrous man's hand (which had collided with Dante's forehead when he pushed him back) left its target, who slid down the wall to the floor of the hall, the sheer force of the blow having knocked the wind out of him so heavily, it was still trying to catch up. After watching him fall, Zefit nodded his head sharply, continuing on his way down the stairs behind them with Twila set carefully near him.
"Zat vas very out of character for you, Tvila." he said when they were a floor beneath. "Normally you rip ze faces of off anyvone who even dares to try such a zing. I figured he had you enchanted in some vay, so I stepped in."
A shudder flew through her body as she stopped in the hall before the stairs to the next floor down, looking at the palm of the hand she had punctured. The wounds were healing but the blood remained, starting to dry in dark red rivulets across her pristine skin. Zefit was two stairs further down the next staircase, turning about to look at her, his eyes set to her face as he awaited her reply. However, he caught sight of the bloodied hand and took it up, pulling free a handkerchief to wipe it clean.
"I ... I do not know what happened. I wanted to, Zef. I so very wanted to raise my hand and shred dhat cheek of his with dhese nails, to watch him bleed as he pulled from me. But for some reason, I could not." she hissed through her teeth then. "When we get to your Tower, I would like to enlist dhe help of your wife, if it is no problem."
Zefit shook his head. "Nein. Zere ist no problem vith your acquiring Sasha to help keep certain ... deviants in line." There was a muffled cough above them, causing both to look up. A devilish grin crossed the Catman's handsome visage. "It sounds like ze deviant ist breazing again. Zat ist gute, I suppose."
An eyebrow lifted on the other's face, rising in a graceful arch as a thin black line against her marble white flesh. "You used your Breathstealer on him, did you not?"
Zefit chuckled some before turning about and continuing downstairs. A finger pointed up toward the ceiling above him. "Right on ze button, mein Fraulein."
Twila descended the stairs after him, scoffing. "Naughty kwashka, you." she scolded playfully. She was halfway down that flight when she heard Dante shuffling to his feet and then proceeding to move down the stairs, painted lips curling up in an almost sadistic smirk. "It sounds like someone is finally awake."
"Avake? Nein. He ist just living, ist all." A low rolling chuckle arose from the German then. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
The same eyebrow on her face lifted again in time to feel a slight vibration through the floor. She stopped again, turning her head in time to see a flutter of red out of the corner of her eye. A smirk crossed her face.
"Good morning, Sunshine." she greeted, using the same words he had used no longer than about ten minutes ago.
Her reply was a glare from those chilling blue eyes as Dante fell back into step with her and Zefit.
"So now zat ve are all present und accounted for, shall ve move directly to mein Tover? Or shall ve remain here in vone of ze sitting rooms, ja?" Zefit asked then.
For the first time since they had met, Dante was completely silent to begin with. Obviously, he was a little more than peeved about Zefit coming in and defending his friend. The decision rested on Twila, it seemed.
There was no thought needed for the answer to come, the words spilling from those red lips almost instantly. "I would like to go to Dhe Tower to speak of what you have learned. Dhat way, he..." she pointed to Dante. "...Can get a last bit of fun in, rest for dhe night, and be ready. I have a funny feeling I know where Papa has gone, but I want to hear it from your mouth in order to confirm my own suspicions."
"I could confirm zem here. You are avare of zat, ja?"
"Not here. Dhe house would radher not hear such words."
Twila caught Dante putting a hand in the air, his mouth opening as if to retort to her statement of the house not wanting to hear things, then snapped his mouth shut and put his hand down. After all, had it not been the night before he had been lured by the beastly structure's eerie crying? A small twitch of the right corner of her mouth was given, though it was brief, the light frown once more placed upon her face.
At her reply, however, Zefit nodded. "Agreement. It ist probably horribly confused as it ist. I vish not to harm its delicate psyche any furzer." He turned his body a bit to see how the two behind him were getting along. He damn near stopped dead on the last stair before the ground floor, but he only slowed for a second, his brow furrowing.
Walking down the stairs, side by side in perfect step with one another, the Catman could not help but notice that Twila was walking a little closer to the figure in red. It seemed neither of them noticed this, but kept walking, Twila obviously in the lead now that they were in the labyrinth of the first floor.
Zefit hung back, keeping his dual-colored gaze upon the two in front. Who was moving so subtly? His eyes moved slowly from the backs of their heads to their feet. Watching them from their heads would not prove anything; there was nothing anywhere on the walls ahead that he could measure positioning by. However, the floor could; the deep sapphire blue and silver marble tiles on the floor were perfectly aligned and thus he could tell who was moving where.
Through long and short, narrow and wide corridors they went, around twists and turns. Amazingly, Dante kept to one particular line of tile on the floor, never leaving the boundaries on either side of the marble squares beneath him. Twila, on the other hand...
Indeed, the move was incredibly subtle, but she was still the one who kept moving steadily closer. Whatever had happened on that floor between them before Zefit had arrived must have been stronger than the German originally thought.
There would be much foiling in the air. After all, he acted like an older brother to her; he had every right by the elder siblings' unspoken code to chase away his little sister's 'boyfriend'...
She had just passed the thin crack from her line of tile into the next one when they arrived at their destination. A door made of mahogany rose before them in the same shape as the front doors. There was the woman on the front doors carved into this one, descending down a series of steps. There was a serene look on the woman's face, her arms crossed at her chest, her hands wrapped around the opposing upper arms, her body covered in the same chains.
Twila turned her bloody gaze to Zefit then, smacking Dante's hand as he reached forward in an attempt to touch the door. Just like a curious child...
"You. Go dhrough here and wait for us at dhe portal. I have to make it so dhat dhe seal around dhe door will not kill him." she said.
Zefit, though reluctant, nodded and moved toward the door. There was a single glance given to the half-demon in their company, a look that said Dare to touch her, your arm will be mine. He was unsure if the message got across but he hoped it did before he disappeared behind the door.
Indeed, the message did get across, but the reply was not necessarily what the German would have expected. As soon as the door was closed, Dante pffted. "What was that all about?"
"What was what all about?" Twila asked before turning her body to him and holding her left hand out, palm facing up. "Arm, please."
"The look he just gave me." He cast his gaze to the outstretched hand. "And how do I know you won't rip it off?"
The first question was disregarded for the moment, her bottomless bloody depths cast up in a mild glare of their own into his blue. "I am not going to rip it off. I am not a barbarian, as you seem to dhink I am. I need your arm if you are to go dhrough dhat door at any point in time. You understand, da?"
"You didn't answer my first question..."
"It was not relevant. Now give me your arm."
"Not until you answer my question."
"Are you going to be dhis difficult for dhe entire assignment?"
"Yes. Now answer me."
"Not until I get your arm."
"And I won't give it until I have my answer."
A low growl was given from her. "Fine dhen. If you will not give me your arm, I will take it by force."
Her lithe dainty form lifted off the ground, colliding with his. For such a small thing, she certainly was able to take him down quickly enough. A scuffle ensued shortly after he hit the ground. She had been on top, trying to snag his arm from him. He kept both off them as out of reach as possible, only bringing one close to her when she looked close to the bare skin right below his wrist. At some points, he would roll so that she was on the bottom, giving him better leverage with which to pin her down and keep those teeth and claws of hers from puncturing skin.
Ten minutes passed before they started loosing their breath; needless to say, the amount of force exerted between the two to turn the other was taking a lot out of both parties. However, in the end, he triumphed, only winning by practically sitting on top of her lower body, his left hand wrapped firmly about her wrists while his right hand had successfully gripped the back of her head and held her at bay.
There was a short moment where both caught their breath again before he had a chance to gloat. It was not much in the way of gloating, but the glint in her red eyes said it all; she was unhappy about being the one who lost.
"Ha. I win." The smirk returned to his face. "So now you tell me what that look your cat friend gave me means and I'll give you my arm for whatever it is you have to do."
She struggled against him, trying to free herself, but could not seem to find a weak point anywhere in the way she seemed to be restrained. "I do not know. I saw no look from him; he was partially behind dhe door with his face turned to you and away from me."
He tsked at her. "Excuses, excuses. Come now; I know you saw him give me that look."
"I did not. But if he gave you a look, you probably already know what it means."
"Maybe, but I think you did."
"Did not."
"Did."
"...Dhis is going nowhere." She struggled a little again, one corner of her mouth turning up in a slight sneer as she moved. She debated on whether or not to break a few of her bones or to dislocate a few joints, but then she would have more questions to answer and that was definitely something she was not wanting to do; after all, she would eventually have to explain her whole head reforming trick. Magic? No. This one was a no-nonsense kind of guy in certain senses. At any rate, he would not take magic for a legitimate answer.
"You're right. It's going nowhere, but that's because you won't talk." There was a taunting sort of tone to his voice. "But no worries. I have ... ways of making you talk."
There was all of one response from her; an eyebrow lifted in half question half skepticism, as if to say Really? Yeah, right. She knew he would, knew what the 'trick' was, but refused to say much of anything. After all, this was going to work in her favor.
His 'method' never got that far; he shifted just wrong in leaning forward, loosening his grip on her wrists. Pfft. That was no fun, but it worked for her. Her right hand curled in on the sides and slid effortlessly from his grip, causing him to give a small gasp of surprise when she moved the hand up his arm. The nail of her middle finger penetrated the skin of his lower arm, pulling free a bit of blood so that it stained the very tip of the claw deep red. It was placed in her mouth before he really had a chance to catch his balance, pulled free shortly afterwards. Through her partially closed lips was seen a sheen of red light, casting a little of her inner lips a brighter shade of red than the rest of them if but briefly.
The freed right hand was placed on his left shoulder, pushing up to throw his fall off course. No way in Hell was she going to give him the pleasure of even coming near her again in such a way as earlier that morning, even if it was an accident. During the flip, she managed to move him so that she could move her right leg. Up it went, the knee to his stomach. It was not a hard blow, more of a spot for better leverage. A good push was given, her left hand released from his grip and pulling free the hand at the back of her head. The maneuver took all of fifteen seconds to perform.
Once she had him off her completely, she rolled to her feet, walked over to him, pulled the sword from his back, and stuck the bottom flare of his coat with the blade between two tiles. From there, she turned about and moved on her way toward the door.
"Hey!" he exclaimed, rolling over as best he could to wrap his hand around the pommel of the sword holding him to the floor. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to get this thing mended?"
"It will teach you not to try and take advantage of me." she grumbled back before moving through the door.
It did not take him too horribly long to remove the blade from his coat, inspecting the end of the blade. Nothing to completely defect the blade thankfully; if anything, the marble sharpened it. He returned the blade to his back before inspecting his coat, checking to see if there was any damage in the fine red leather. Barely a dent, but it might be good after all of this was over to get it looked at; a small blemish in the fabric could turn to a hole, after all.
God, what a morning. The best part of it ... well, he did steal a kiss. That was good enough. He strode forward, grasped the hidden ring at the left side of the door, pulled it open, and moved through the threshold. The door behind him shut, but the way was still lit. The background on the door was a mirror image of the hall behind it. The ceilings were still vaulted, the short corridor beyond the door and the staircase beyond that made of the same black stones that the house was made of. Every fifteen feet, a stone at the level of the floor cast a faint green light.
He had gotten through the corridor and was standing on the bottom step when he stopped. There was something in the hall with him, of that he was sure. He waited a few moments before turning around with a whirl. Above the flutter of his coat, he could hear it. Faintly, there were whispers and someone sobbing. He stood a few seconds longer until the air grew deathly chill and he could see his breath leave him in a thick white cloud. A chill began its way up his back and then a slimy feeling crawled up his right arm.
With a final huff of annoyance at whatever was following him, Dante turned about and made his way up the stairs. They went straight up for some way and then took an odd turn to the right, then the left. Behind him, he could still hear those restless spirits trying to follow him. They seemed to be getting incredibly lost, thus proving the effectiveness of the twisting staircase, though he did sort of worry about any one of them moving through the walls and meeting him up ahead. After all, weren't ghosts and the like insubstantial and able to move through solid objects like ... say ... walls? He had not run into a single one of the things yet and began looking around.
When he spotted what kept them at bay, he about smacked himself for not seeing something so incredibly obvious; right at eye level on both sides of the stairway were large silver ankhs about the size of his head and shoulders. They rested above wherever there happened to be a stone emitting light. Amazingly, they blended in well with their surroundings.
As he passed them, he could not help but notice that upon each ankh in the wall, there was a series of writing. He tuned in again to the spirits below, yet only heard their frustrated cries echoing faintly from below. They were stuck... At seeing that he was indeed safe for the moment, he stopped before one of the symbols in the wall, looking hard to try and read the inscription on them. Something deep in his subconscious seemed to scream at him to read it out loud, so he did:
"Whosoever, be it beast or man,
That wishes harm upon this clan
Be lost in maze and ways unending
Then in time and space unbending."
He sighed then. "'Eesh. Verse..."
However, it did have a pretty good effect; the ankh that had been read from glowed a pale blue, then set itself to deep red/black, shooting a beam of light the same color to the ankhs to both sides of it, then to the one directly across the hall from it. From the one opposite it, it shot a beam to either of its sides and so on and so forth from the other ankhs it hit.
The resounding sound of shrieks and screams rose from below the demon hunter and he determined it was a barrier, keeping the spirits below from moving up. However, it didn't seem to have any effect on him; the light went right through him and he neither burned nor hurt in any way.
Seeing as how he was now unhindered from anything besides the two who were probably impatiently waiting for him at the top, he turned about and moved up the quirky stairwell. Indeed, Twila and Zefit were awaiting him at the top.
He stepped from the stairs in time to see the barrier drop, Twila lifting an eyebrow as the beams in the staircase disappeared. "You ran into dhose, did you?" The tone of her voice was almost incredulous, as though she were surprised he had not opened fire at all on the ghosts and the like down below.
Dante nodded. "Yeah. But it was a pretty interesting set-up you have there. I never would have guessed it was poetry corner."
She glared lightly at him. "Statistics prove dhat barrier spells dhat rhyme are more prone to protecting you dhan ones dhat do not."
"And this is because..." He rolled a hand at her to get her to continue.
"Dhey are easier to remember dhan ones dhat do not rhyme." she replied simply.
"Well ... true. I still have your little incantation stuck in my head..." he muttered, casting his attention briefly to the massively tall dark figure nearby.
Zefit remained completely silent, standing near the back of the room with straight back and crossed arms, his eyes shining in the green light in that bizarre demoniacal way cat's eyes shone in the dark. His ears were perked forward now, the right one twitching around as though a radar dish. Once he heard that the discussion was done, he looked to Twila.
"Mein Fraulein. Perhaps ve should be on our vay, zen, ja?"
She nodded, snapping the fingers of her left hand. The room brightened considerably, the green slowly giving way to white. The chamber they now stood in was monstrous, bigger than the entry hall. Dante looked up and around briefly and could not see the ceiling at all, even with the brighter lights. Rising from the black stone floor to his right was a pedestal, upon it resting a metal circular device with a slit down the center of it. A wall backed it and on the wall was carved that same woman as on the important doors in the household, her clawed hands reaching down toward the circle on the floor, her body still wrapped in chains. He recognized her now. Hell, he knew her; she was walking toward where the massive Catman was. On his left ... well, that dropped off into oblivion; there were no walls on that side, nothing to catch his interest at all. It did not take him long to realize they were standing on a small outcropping in this giant chamber. Across the chasm from the end of their platform toward the back of the room was a series of equally massive clockworks, hanging it seemed from the ceiling. Gears and springs moved and shifted, a pendulum swinging back and forth ... back and forth, ticking as it went. God, it would suck to be trapped in here for eternity, what with the deafening clicks and ticks coming from the immense mechanics of the place.
Once he was done with the observation of the room they were in, he walked forward to join the other two, standing a little too close to Twila for Zefit's comfort. Even though he was not looking at the German, Dante could feel the glare that was shot from the Catman's dual-colored eyes. It felt as if the air itself was pushing down on him and making it hard to breathe, the hateful look from the other male in the room was so strongly expressed. And so, the half-demon had no choice but to move away from her. Though it was not very far, he no longer felt the glare on his back so he took the distance he stopped at as tolerable.
Twila broke the silence between the three by establishing a transporting order. "Zefit, you will go dhrough first. Dhat way, dhe portal will be able to locate you immediately and send us dhrough to you when we follow."
Zefit gave a graceful sweeping bow before walking to the edge of the platform and simply ... walking off of it. As he fell from sight, Dante walked forward to see where it was he was going. The entire floor (or lack thereof) below the outcrop was covered as far as the eye could see with a writhing iridescent black gooey mess. The figure of Zefit hit the surface of the stuff and -- with a loud fzzt! noise -- disappeared into the mass.
Twila looked to her remaining companion. "I am taking a guess but you have not used dhese sorts of portals, have you?"
Dante looked up, casting those haunting blue eyes into her swirling red ones. "Nope. Am I going to get an instruction booklet for it?"
"Not necessarily a booklet, but instructions, da."
"Sarcasm, m'dear..."
The spoken line was completely disregarded. "When you jump into dhe portal, dhink of Zefit. Never stop dhinking of Zefit; dhose dhoughts will guide you. No matter dhe creatures dhat come to you from dhe darkness of dhose walls, you must never release even one dhought of Zefit until you are safely on dhe odher side."
"And what of said creatures? Can they do me harm?"
"Niet. Dhey are of a different dimension dhan you are, dherefore, you can see dhem, dhey can see you, but you cannot touch dhem and ... well, I would dhink you get dhe point."
"I would hope so."
"Good. Because I go next, dhen you follow. Da?"
He nodded. "Da..."
He had barely gotten that out when she leapt from the platform. The sight of her falling made him bite his bottom lip. Not hard, but he was. Her hair flew up and away from her, revealing her slender throat and shoulders more. When her body tilted so that she was falling on her back, the displaced air rushing by her rustled the fabrics of her shirt away from her, showing off just a little more skin than she wanted to; the white sheen of her flesh from collarbone to the tops of her breasts seemed to taunt him from afar. Her skirts flew up and pulled against her, outlining still more of her frame, bringing those hidden curves to shimmer against the pulling red of the fabric. The way she fell, it made her perfect to him in every physical aspect. But the question remained in his mind; why was she suddenly so appealing to him now? Had she not threatened him and told him she hated him with every ounce of true emotion she could muster?
The instant she hit the portal's wriggling surface, he could have sworn, somewhere in the divine court of whatever god was watching, someone hit a slow button. The black mass seemed to eat away at her slowly, her raven locks falling and disappearing instantly, along with her skirts. In fact, as she went, she looked as though she were being swallowed by black water. Or a liquid of some sort, one that never stained the fabrics or skin that touched it.
The last thing to be swallowed by the blackness below was her left eye, the same one that was set glaring on him right after he had watched the soul of Ivan take his leave of the house. It was still swirling and still that brilliant red. Right before the gooey shadow swallowed it, it closed. And he leapt from the platform in pursuit of it.
It was something he was very reluctant to see fall away.