Author's note: There's always gotta be a chapter like this.
Chapter 9
"Another one, please." Nero slid a drained shot glass across the bar counter to the female bartender who eyed with him the air of someone who knew she'd have herself a long-sitting customer tonight. The woman was polite enough, but her dark eyes were vigilant and meant for keeping watch for troublemakers. With his strange arm, it was understandable that Nero could seem like such a person. Still, upon his request, she smiled at his courtesy. Nero doubted many drunkards had enough cognitive clarity to say "please" when asking for another shot.
Nero had mulled over his pleasantly soured conversation with Kyrie before he chose to haul his ass out of his room for some fresh air. He traded in the mildly stuffy air of his place for the equally cloying, alcohol-ridden atmosphere of Black Whiskey, one of the few decent bars in Fortuna. It was a well-established tavern. Fights did not break out here often which was a plus when he was moody. If one broke out now, he would not hesitate to join in the fisticuffs action and beat the bloody pulp out of whoever started a racket. It didn't matter who the guilty party was; he'd beat heads without question.
"Oh, drowning your sorrows, are you?" came a question from an overly loud jocular male to Nero's right.
"And you, old man? Pull up a stool and grab one too," Nero retorted to Dante as his whiskey glass refilled. He was not hammered enough yet to not insult his friend.
"I'll have something. A strawberry sundae, please," Dante requested from the bartender, looking expectantly to be disappointed. He must ask for this a lot.
Fortuna was a versatile town with many old customs, as well as the willingness to embrace new ideas. This kind of request in a bar was not far-fetched to Nero's ears, so Dante seemed very surprised when the barkeep simply responded, "Will that be with extra whipped cream, sir?"
Dante eyed the lady behind the counter as though she were egging him on. "Uh, can I get an extra helping of strawberries instead of the cream?"
"Certainly. There will be an additional fee."
Glee suffused Dante's face regardless of the cost. "Bring it on!" Dante nudged Nero with an elbow. "This bar is awesome."
Nero was losing himself in the musky brown of his liquor. "Mmm-hmm, that's why all the kiddies come here. To enjoy the desserts."
In spite of the banter, Dante watched Nero with concern. "You all right? I haven't seen you drunk so I can't tell if you're already under the influence or not."
Maybe getting stinking drunk would be a good option. Frustration at not understanding Kyrie and the ordeals she was going through made Nero want to slam back enough intoxicating liquid to knock himself out in hopes that when he awoke everything would be a horrible nightmare.
A strawberry balanced at the end of a spoon wiggled under his nose and Nero glanced up from his glass to Dante who was extending the fruit from his sundae. Successful at capturing Nero's attention, Dante popped the slice in his mouth. "How is Kyrie?"
Nero sipped his drink.
Dante got the hint and busied himself by spooning another gob down his eager craw. Nero appreciated him not pushing the topic.
The silence between them was interrupted by a swarthy man whom deodorant would be of great importance to his hygiene as he lumbered up to the counter on Nero's opposite side.
"I wan' 'nother drink." His slurred speech and tipsy walking pattern made Nero infinitely glad for his demon tolerance for liquor. He'd have to drink a damn lot to get smashed. Possibly a whole barrel. Possibly two to get a horrible hangover. If he wanted that. Currently, Nero still had his sobriety and the choice.
The bartender stopped rubbing dry the glass she was holding, flipped it up and filled it with frothy beer from the tap. She placed it solidly in front of the man. He picked up the mug, unsteadily turned wide, and bumped Nero's side. The liquid missed Nero and sloshed on the counter and over the edge down to the hard floor. Poor beer.
"Damn, now look 't what you've done!" The man yelled.
Nero glared at him. "I didn't do anything. It's your clumsy butt that caused your accident."
"Wuz that you say?" the man demanded, setting the stein on the counter.
As though the man were hard of hearing, Nero punctuated his next words. "I said your drunken butt hit me. Like I'd want to go near you. Did you swim in a dumpster today?"
The next thing Nero knew, the lout grabbed the collar of his coat and his sober behind was yanked off his high stool.
"I'll take you on!"
"Think you can do that?" Blue light rayed from Nero's right arm as he frowned severely.
"You don't get away with ruining my beer!" the tipsy man retorted loudly, letting Nero go and raising his arms, totally not comprehending the extent of danger the demon possessed. He swung a meaty hand at Nero.
The victim --if he could be labeled as one with his supernatural edge-- caught the punch and twisted the man's arm away. The drunk cried out in pain. He lunged at Nero again, but slipped on the wet beer puddle. His hands seized the front of Nero's coat in an attempt to stop his fall.
The jolt of movement dislodged the dagger from the inner folds of Nero's coat and the metal clattered to the floor. Nero dipped to retrieve it, but the man was closer to it and scooped it up first.
Intricate carvings along the handle made the man stare at it. "Whoa, this is worth a load o' money!"
"Give it back." Nero was not going to lose his only chance of saving Kyrie.
"This'll make up for the beer." A brutish grin plastered on the guy's face.
The Devil Bringer shot out and dug its claws around the sides of the man's face. Terrified, the drunk waved the dagger to cut Nero in order to free himself. Nero lifted his heel to slam into the dumbass's gut when ebony smoke plumed from the dagger. The sharp instrument clattered to the floor. The dark cloud became a snarling wolf the size of Blue Rose. The petiteness of the animal did not overshadow the savage bloodlust of the hound.
"Oh my god!" The drunk landed on his rump when the weapon changed form.
"Naturally, the dagger must remain as is."
The homunculus' words rushed back in Nero's mind. This dagger was screwy, all right. He'd figured out how in a minute. He glared at the wolf with an equally impenetrable hate, then his demeanor changed entirely to congeniality when he clapped his hands like he was calling over a puppy. "You're a good guy, aren't 'cha?" he cooed in a nauseatingly cute voice he'd dare never use on any living, communicating person. Not even Kyrie. No matter how much she begged.
He kneeled and patted his thighs to taunt the wolf to take a bite out of him. "Ya wanna play?"
Rabid Wolfy tilted its head at his words. Confusion was the best Nero could hope for coming from it. The wolf bounded at him. Nero hopped back but remembered Dante's stool was in his line of movement. Nero felt the smack of chrome against his legs. The wolf knocked him down and howled fiercely in his face. Nero expected razor teeth to gnaw on him and the thought of snapping its jaw entertained his mind.
The wolf threw its heavy bulk right on top of his chest and he grunted at the weight. He grimaced at the sharp paws that dug in his almost healed wound.
The wolf dipped its head. Not taking any chances, Nero clamped its jaws shut. There was another whine, muffled by Nero's hand. Upon this very close view, he thought the canine was kind of cute when its teeth weren't attempting to crush his larynx.
A struggle against his confining hand persisted. A powerful jerk freed the wolf's jaws from the hold. Nero knew he was screwed.
His eyes involuntarily squeezed shut, not caring to witness this beast chomping on him. Instead of piercing teeth ripping into his skin, a cold nose rubbed against his chin. Nero immediately opened his eyes, mystified. A content whine came from the happy hound.
The black smoke from earlier surrounded the furry beast again. The wolf dissipated in the haze. Nero was left clutching the dagger. Nero lay there a moment longer to intake air and allow his chest to deflate.
Clapping started to surround him. He raised his head. Patrons were cheering and catcalling, telling him what a show he put on. Unreal!
Nero rose to his feet and brushed himself off. Dante clapped along with the crowd. "Jolly performance!"
"Some show where the main attraction almost devours me." Nero stowed the weapon in his coat safely, wondering exactly how it changed the way it did.
The fallen man was a bumbling wreck and hurried to his feet. He began to sputter words, maybe an insult, but decided to play it safe and get away from the man.
"My sundae's gone. Let's go," Dante said. No arguments, there.
Outdoors to the warm evening, the tang of sea air enveloped Nero's nose. Port Caerula was nearby.
"Hey, kid." Dante came over and stopped uncomfortably close. He seemed determined to find out something.
"Yeah?" Nero pretended to be oblivious by focusing on the passing streetlamps.
"You've got the dagger. Praise and good tidings." Dante leaned in, focusing his hard gaze in Nero's eyes. "What's it for?"
"T- to save Kyrie." Ever since he heard the shocking news of what needed to be done to save her, Nero hadn't thought of the actual deed of plunging the dagger in her heart. His eyes faltered.
Dante stepped right in front of Nero, stopping him. "Don't think I didn't notice the lethality of such a weapon."
Nero had naught to say to this.
"You explained the why, when and how of acquiring the dagger to us. But you left out the 'what' from 'what to do' when you told us about it." When Nero remained silent, Dante gradually pulled away, sensing his need for space. "It's not something easy for you, is it?"
Nero was afraid to voice it, to make the situation real. Everything up to now seemed like a trodden dream.
"You'll need to tell her, so you may as well practice on me." Dante did not sound sarcastic.
Here he went. Nero raised his vision to Dante. He kept his response steady even though his insides quaked. "I have to kill her with the dagger. Doing it will purge the leftover Savior shit from her. She should back to normal afterward. There's an equal chance of a good or bad outcome."
Dante paused, contemplating. "You have to do it? Can it be done by anyone?"
"I won't let anyone else do it." The declaration was unequivocal, obstinate. This much Nero knew with utmost clarity. He wasn't going to allow another soul to desecrate Kyrie. She also wouldn't be left to her horror to kill herself. It would be too cruel.
"Tonight?"
"Tomorrow." Nero needed to gather his wits. He was also tremendously fatigued. There was no way he was going to miss his mark because of a lack of sleep. There was also the matter of the transforming dagger and what the hell that was all about. Nero also wanted to pick something extra up for Kyrie in the morning when the shop opened for the day. Besides, she needed strength, too.
