Through sweat soaked slumber, Dante, tossed and turned as he sank further
and further into a distress filled sleep.
He wasn't sure if he was having a dream or a vision.
A small girl, who seemed to eminate a very iold/i soul within her, was
standing before him, dressed in flowing black robes, a hand over her heart,
her other hand extended to him, presenting a pendant on a chain to him. He
could not see it, lifting his head to look into the child's dark eyes, she
looked down again, and when he followed her gaze, the pendate that was
lying in her palm before, had turned to blood, and the pool dripped from
her hand, onto a body, rolling down the obscured face, and to the ground,
pooling there. Looking up again, the child was gone, without so much as a
trace. Soon after he was bombarded with images of more blood, more bodies,
the last of which causing him to sit up straight in bed, large drops of
sweat rolling down his tanned brow, stark white hair matted and sticking to
his forehead and cheeks.
Hell, he hadn't had a decent nights sleep in weeks. Perhaps some work would
calm him down.
Upon entering his P.I's office, "Devil May Cry" he was pleased to find the
agency empty, save for a black cat, whom had taken the liberty of sitting
upon his cluttered desk top..
Everything below it, soaked in a pool of blood, the cat stood up on all
four paws, before hopping to a nearby window seal, looking to Dante, giving
a hiss, and jumping down the fire escape to safety.
"Now that was just damn strange." He murmured, before looking back to his
thought ruined desk, only to find that there was not a drop of liquid upon
it.
"This day just gets stranger, and stranger.." he hissed with an agitated
frown until he felt a familiar presence behind him.
"Is it so strange?"
Spinning about, he was met by the girl from his dreams, dressed in a school
uniform of some Catholic school. The plain blue skirt, white long-sleeved
shirt, mary jane shoes and ankle socks almost made her seem too ordinary,
if it weren't for her eyes. Such things give demons away, and the young
girl, was absolutely no exception. A violin case hung over her right
shoulder, a light blue knit sweater tied about her waist, lank ringlets of
ebon hair hung to her waist, and about her neck, hung a gem, blood red in
color, yet shone black in the correct light.
"Who the hell are you?" Dante demanded as he narrowed his eyes, gripping
Ebony and Ivory tightly, training them both toward the floor as if to be
ready to fire them at a moment's notice.
"I have no name. I am far too old to possesses one, or have the need for
one." She replied with a gentle, yet curt and authoritative smile.
