Title: Demons Don't Feel, but Humans do
By: Metis
E-mail m_metis@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Comments: I'm not
particularly sure were I want this story to go; I mean, I don't want it to
just drag on and bore you guys…
*Chapter 5—Return*
"Trish?" Dante tried, his voice steady as he pinned Trish roughly by the shoulders and pressed her against the plaster wall. Though his grip succeeded in subduing the demon within her, all the answer his inquiry received was an un-amused growl.
"Trish?" he tried again, this time leaning in closer in hopes of catching another glimpse of her true self. Although the demon may have possessed the better part of her body, Dante knew Trish had been trained well enough not to give up a battle all that easily. Maybe if he shook her…
Placing a firm hand over her mouth, Dante positioned his right palm securely at her abdomen. He really wished he could've done anything else, but the way things were, all he could try and do were to expulse the demon. Dante felt himself growl in anger. That would require large amounts of energy that he wasn't sure he could risk losing. It wasn't that it would tire him out; no, he was just cautious of the fact that such a large energy release would attract others. His energy would stand out like a light-house among the more weak-willed energies of the humans around him. Apart from that, Dante had been hoping to save his energy for an emergency—which he was sure—would happen soon.
Letting his eyes flutter closed, Dante summoned all his energies about his upturned palm and began an ancient chant. He didn't know were he had actually learned it; all he knew was that it came from the very depths of his soul. Dante was like that: it was common for him to possess abilities he had never learned. They just came to him. It was all instinctual, really…
"Cursed, despised creature, return to the spirit world and to what you are…Like a common thief, exit this botched robbery of a soul and return…return to the spirit world and to what you are…Hannaei…Chiket…Anhaii…"
Still chanting, Dante shifted his gaze away from Trish's eyes, trying to avoid the blank expression that lay there. Although he could sense that the demon was a strong one, Dante was aware that it was weakening. A little more…
With a final surge of energy, the silver-haired man felt himself falter as his fingertips lost their grip on Trish. He cursed evenly under his breath, closing his eyes and drawing in a lengthy breath as the young woman molded herself vulnerably against his chest. Dante knew, somehow, that whatever had possessed her body had been expulsed, but was puzzled on how to react to it. The fact was, having Trish in such a tender embrace was beginning to make him uncomfortable. She wasn't the type to be held—wasn't the type to be anything but tough. If there was anything Dante had learned about Trish in all the time they'd been partnered together, it was that she disliked being helped in any way—in her own words, she didn't need, "any pity."
As soon as he felt her fists tightening against his chest, Dante loosened the mild grip he had on her and took a step backwards. He scanned her face quickly, searching for her eyes, and felt slightly breathless when he caught her gaze. She was dazed, Dante guessed, eyeing her pouty mouth as she drew in a lengthy, stabilizing breath.
Blinking clear blue eyes at him, and later down at herself, Trish felt her mouth widen into an astonished scowl. Her moves sudden and uncontrolled, she gathered the shards that remained of her towel about herself, and glared furiously at Dante.
In a move very much unlike himself, the silver-haired demon found himself raising two hands in his defense. Not that it would do much. Trish was near committing homicide. "What the hell am I…"
Dante had to smirk despite himself. He had known she would have a foggy memory about the incident, but he hadn't thought she would forget altogether. Trish, rather mortified, raised an eyebrow.
"Look, Dante—"
* To Be Continued *