Chapter 10

Castillo Vivientes was a vast, sprawling mansion positioned amid a dense forest that overlooked Constantine from it's vantage point atop a steep incline. Constructed mainly of large chunks of stone held together by handmade mortar, the massive structure that had once held political symbolism in Constantine was in dire need of renovation. One of the northern watchtowers had collapsed, taking a good portion of the lower floor with it. The stained-glass windows that had remained intact were caked with dirt, making any view an impossibility. On a whole it looked as if the entire palace would fall under the assault of a strong wind.

The grounds and courtyard were unattended as well. Weeds had overtaken the flowerbeds, and the shrubbery was unkempt. What had once been a breathtaking landscape was now nothing but a time worn wasteland.

Out of all the flaws one could point out about Castillo Vivientes, the most disturbing was the existence of a tall citadel at the direct center of the structure. The dark brick used for the tower's making suggested that it had been built at a far later date than the rest of the fortress. That in itself was odd considering the lack of upkeep. However, the fact that it seemed to serve no purpose at all was the most strange. It's location and the absence of windows betrayed that it's use was not as a lookout. Yet, it was higher than any of the other jutting spires.

Nero stared at the fortification. He felt the strong urge to look away, but could not pull his gaze from the perplexing sight. His demonic arm throbbed and he could have sworn that a voice was speaking to him with silent imagery. A wave of anguish prodded the back of his mind and he struggled no to let it take hold.

"What the hell is that?" he asked Dante, pointing to the out-of-place turret.

The elder hunter shrugged. By his expression, Nero could tell the other man felt it too. The feeling of dread and absolute wrongness that the tower was emitting.

"Maybe that's where they keep the princess," Dante joked. Though he smiled, his voice held none of it's usual frivolity.

Nero watched him and decided it was best to let the attempt at humor go overlooked.

Dante let out a breath and approached the main door. "C'mon, kid."

The youth followed. He kept his eyes focused on the solid oak of the entrance so as not to have to look up at the abomination overhead.

"I can't see a vampire lord hidin' out in a hellhole like this," he announced.

Dante gave a slight nod of agreement and stopped in front of door. He studied the portal with crossed arms, as if expecting it to open of it's own accord.

Nero extracted Red Queen and held it up. "We'll probably have to break it down," he guessed.

Dante put his hand on the knob and gave it a twist. It turned freely and the latch clicked as the mechanisms within released. The door inched forward.

"Always try the simplest method first," the hunter advised as he pushed through the entryway.

Nero sheathed his sword and followed. He glanced around at the foyer, willing his eyes to adjust to the drastic change in lighting. Despite being dark, the interior was decently clean and oddly fragrant. Of course the latter most likely came from the female leech who was standing at the foot of the stairway watching the two men with a stoic expression.

"Welcome to Castillo Vivientes," she greeted in a sweet voice.

Nero put his hand on the hilt of Red Queen, but was stopped from releasing it by quick shake of Dante's head. Nero stared at the hunter in confusion. The other gave no indication as to why he didn't want to fight at the moment. Nero started to protest, then remembered that he had agreed to let the hunter have lead on this excursion. With an irritated huff, he let his hand fall from his weapon.

"I'm Claire," the blood sucker continued. "And you must be the infamous slayers that the others have been complaining about."

"Guess so," Dante responded. "And you must be the receptionist."

Claire grinned. "You could say that." Her brown eyes scanned each of the men, lingering on Nero's right hand before returning to Dante. The youth made no move to hide his demonic hand. "What an interesting pair you are," she stated. "Clearly you are descendants of the devil Sparda."

The elder hunter gave her a proud bow and smiled. "So, I take it you met my dad."

Claire shook her head. Her ebony curls flowed on her shoulders as she did. "I, fortunately, never had that displeasure. I was young when he disappeared."

Nero stared at the vampire. Her comment about age caught him off guard. Sparda had died – or as some believed, only went into hiding – over thirty years ago. Claire looked to be about the same age as Nero and the youth had to remind himself that blood suckers didn't show years like humans. They remained stuck in the state they were changed in. He wondered if she meant that she was child or a newly created vampire at the time Sparda vanished.

Dante nodded. "Gotcha. I guess yer here to deliver a message from your master?"

Again, Claire nodded. "He's quite upset with your massacre of the young ones," she said with a pained expression. "There was no reason for them to have been killed. They had done nothing wrong."

"That depends on your definition," Nero retorted.

Claire sneered at him. Her eyes flickered red for a second and the youth once again put his hand to his sword. Then the leech sighed and calmed herself, letting her face relax.

"The actives they were taking part in were completely consensual," she said. "You loath us because we are different. Is that not the same reason that the humans look down on you?"

Nero was startled by the revelation. It was true that the people of Fortuna steered clear of him, even after all he had done to help preserve their way of life. He had always been, and would likely always be, treated as an outcast. Even the knights of The Order who'd accepted Nero shied away from the youth.

Yet, he could see no similarity between himself and the vampires. They killed. If only because they had to, they killed. The memories of all the casualties in Fortuna were still fresh in Nero's mind. That gave him justification for what he'd done.

It was Dante who broke the tension in the room. "What's the message?" he asked Claire.

She turned her gaze back to the demon hunter. "That you abandon your attempt at vengeance and succumb to the will of the vampires." She spoke this as if discussing nothing more important than the weather or the latest bit of dull news.

Dante huffed. "He should know I ain't gonna do that."

Claire nodded. She lowered her eyes. "It was expected," she whispered.

The elder hunter shook his head. He slowly walked over to where she stood and Claire looked up at him.

"Why'd you agree to do this?" he asked.

Nero watched, silently wondering what he meant.

"Because, slayer-"

"My name is Dante."

Claire gave him a genuinely kind smile. "Dante," she repeated. The hunter frowned, but didn't protest. "He asked me to."

Dante's expression became a mixture of confusion, remorse and anger. Nero wasn't sure what the man was doing, but he continued to stand down. If the hunter needed him, he was ready. His hand was still locked on Red Queen and eager to draw it at the first hint of aggression from the female blood sucker.

"You gonna put up a fight?" Dante asked.

Claire glared for a moment, then reluctantly shook her head.

"That's too bad," the hunter said. He grinned at her. "I like a feisty woman."

The vampiress smiled. A playful glint appeared in her eyes, but still she remained relaxed. She and Dante stared at each other for a long time, then the hunter sighed loudly and put his hand on the hilt of Rebellion. His movements were almost too fast to be seen. In a second the man had drawn his broadsword and detached Claire's head from the rest of her. As her body fell to the floor, oozing dark blood from the gaping hole, Dante slowly shook his head and scoffed in the silence. He turned to Nero and the youth saw fury in his blue eyes.

"Just one more reason to kill that bastard."

Nero glanced around and replayed the scene in his head. He was surprised to realize that it all made perfect sense now. Claire had known she would die when she had accepted the request form her master. Yet she had still done it, simply because he had asked her to. Nero wondered if she had protested. If she begged him to get someone else to play her part. Deep down, he really didn't think that she had.

She could have fought them. Even if she knew she would lose, she still could have fought. Maybe she hadn't seen any point. Nero and Dante had both proven that they could overcome vast odds, so her attempt at self preservation would have been in vain. But the way she had accepted her fate...

Nero doubted he could show that kind of courage. He wanted to say that Claire had acted foolishly. That she had given up too easily. But he didn't see it that way. She had paid with her life to help a cause – unjust as it was – that she believed in. That in itself granted her bravery.

Nero cursed himself for sympathizing with the enemy. Once you started doing that, the lines between right and wrong became obscure. He needed to keep his head in the game and forget about the sacrifice Claire had made and how much it saddened him.

He looked at Dante. "So, what are we waitin' around here for then?"

The hunter smirked and turned back toward the staircase. Nero noticed that he kept his eyes raised so that he wouldn't have to look at the corpse of Claire at his feet.

"It's always a tower in the books, right?" Dante said. "That means we need to go up."

Without further delay, the two began to ascend the steps, making sure to keep a respectful distance between themselves and the lifeless body of the fallen vampire.