Dante felt warm arms around him and opened his eyes to find himself in his carved wooden bed under a rough warm blanket with his mother at his side, embracing him softly. He was a child again, covered by the veil of his mother's goden hairand his brother, only 8 years old, stood in the doorway looking at him with solemn concern. His mother was kissing his head and telling him how worried she'd been. Dante smiled. His mother was always worried about something when it came to her sons. Hisdark giant of afather joined his brother in the doorway. One was like a miniature version of the other with identical concerned but severe frowns. His mother's smile was a stunningcontrast, she was warm and gentle. He knew this was not always the case, he'd heard of her skill and merciless demeanour in battle but with her sons she was a veritable angel. He blinked back tears as she stroked the painful gash on his head with tender fingers. She looked up at his father.
"What exactly happened out there, Sparda?" she'd asked softly. Sparda had shaken his head and looked at Dante with an odd unreadable anger. His voice was deep and gravelly, accentless and precise;
"There was an attack; two rogue Sin Scissor who tracked us down somehow. Your songot it in his head to take upmy sword and face them."
Pride and wonder flashed across his mother's face as she turned back to Dante.
"Our son, Sparda, not just mine," she teased. Then she looked thoughtful. "It's happening more and more. These attacks. I don't know just how safe we are here any more."
His father had looked grave and came over and put a hand on his mother's shoulder which she held, her other hand still on Dante's aching head. Everything was alright; Dante knew it as instinctively as he knew the exact way to use the mysterious sword his father kept hidden so carefully. His brother came to stand with them never losing his solemn imitation of his father's expression. It made Dante laugh sometimes. Sparda spoke again but the scene was fading to darkness, was he going back to sleep?
"He was winning you know. He killed one and was overcoming the other well when he lost his footing. If he only had a little training…"
Then Dante woke up to a merciless barrage of pain spanning from his head down his neck, shouders and arms. Of course it had been a dream. His mother and father were dead and that evening long lost to vague memory. He felt a fleeting sadness.
He sat up painfully, the ache in his head had been real anyway, and took stock of his surroundings. He was in a room similar to the green chamber where he'd first spoken to Genevieve but this one had a large low bed in it with soft thick green sheets and blankets to match the walls and bed curtains. He was injured, fairly badly so, but alive and that seemed to suggest that Madeline had not won. Unless this was another game. But if that then why bed him in Genevieve's chamber, as he felt sure this was? He got painfully to his feet and tested them to see if it was possible to walk. It was; he inwardly congratulated himself.
Slowly he walked to the only door in and out of the room, opened it and walked through. He was in the green parlour adjoining it in which he'd spent one restless night in hiding. There on one green leather chair sat Genevieve. She rose with relief in her now very white face as he entered. She smiled at him and helped him to his seat. Of Lucia he could see no sign. That worried him oddly.
"I'm glad you've recovered so quickly, Dante," Genevieve was saying, "I hoped I would have a chance to thank you before the sun rose and I became one of those ghastly statues."
Dante nodded causing a twinge of pain up his neck and gave her a half smile, his vision slightly blurred;
"What the hell happened in there, Genevieve?" he asked
Genevieve fidgeted and looked at him with an unhappy sigh;
"Madeline and my court almost killed you and Lucia; I thought they had for a while. Iwatched and couldn't stand it so I attacked my Madeline and, although it was a close struggle in which I lost one of my eyes," here she pointed ruefully at her left eye which was blood-shot and oddly pale, "I overpowered her and killed her; destroyed my beautiful mad daughter. The court accepted me with my new vampire blood as Lady of this place and my first order to them was to help you and Lucia to heal using any method except an exchange of blood. I'm not certain they listened to me in that aspect but you've healed up alright with no adverse effects so I suppose it's alright."
"And where is Lucia?" asked Dante with an urgency that surprised him, "Is she alright?"
Genevieve sighed and gestured to the doors to the chamber in which Dante had first seen Madeline asleep.
"She rests in there. She is not as powerful as you and her injuries were severe but she lives and should continue to do so."
Dante rose to go to the chamber but Genevieve continued talking;
"Please, in just a little while I will enter my daylight sleep and will not reanimate until dusk. I beg you to stay on this island until then so that I may reward you fittingly for both great services you have done me." She smiled a little evilly, "And I promise I will make no wedding plans for you this time."
Dante returned the smile;
"Thanks Genevieve. And I'll try to be a bit more of a dinner guest. See ya at sundown."
He entered the warm light room and closed the door behind him. There in the centre of it lay Lucia on the same great white bed he'd first laid eyes on Madeline upon. She wasnot as stunning in appearance as Madeline had been but there was a definite beauty to her bright blue eyes, now closed, her Cupid's-bow mouth and the way her red hair framed her face especially on the rare occasion he saw it out of braid and flowing down her neck.
He no longer bothered to chide or be surprised at himself for these thoughts because it was pointless. After all, she was a pretty girl and he was a guy with eyes and a pulse. What harm was there in noticing her good points? He sat with her for a couple of hours thinking over his dream and the whole incident on this island until he saw her eyelids beginning to flutter and her breathing quicken. She was waking.
He rose to his feet and exited stage left. Intimate resurrection scenes weren't his thing. Lucia's eyes opened as he slipped out the door and she saw his fleeting red form with her blurry eyes. She smiled to herself at the strangeness of her partner and then realised the far greater strangeness that existed in the fact that she was still alive. She got unsteadily to her feet and pursued him, almost falling over with shock when she saw a placid statue of Genevieve sitting in one of the leather chairs in the parlour. She could guess the rest of the story pretty much and as she had no idea which of the three other doors that led from this parlour Dante had taken, she just returned to bed. There would be time for questions later.
The two of them stayed apart, each in their own world of thoughts and conclusions - and concussions -until sunset woke Genevieve again. She summoned them to her parlour where she hada light mealbrought also 'to keep them alive until the feast' she'd explained. She'd then brought Lucia up to date with all that had happened and told both of them the news that Madeline's cremation was to be performed that night at midnight on the beach where her husband's had been. She'd said this with an odd sadness in her voice that Dante and Lucia knew better than to question. Then they'd been given clothes to wear for the banquet and ceremony, a fine dress of pale blue silk for Lucia and a well-cut suit of dark blue brocade for Dante. He stillknew he'd look like a moron but said nothing. As they retreated to their separate rooms to change and prepare, Genevieve said;
"You can look a little happier if you like, we've won a great victory and this celebration is for you, in your honour. And I promise there will be no dancing. Not for you anyway."
They'd smiled at that and Dante had feigned a reluctant sigh as he replied;
"Damn, and I was just getting the hang of that funeral waltz. Just shuffle about miserably like a drunk pall-bearer and you're half way there."
Later they met up in the parlour again, Dante in his suit with his hair re-combed and styled neatly and his boots shined (he'd insisted on hanging onto his own boots this time no matter how ridiculous it looked.) Lucia seemed highly self-conscious in the shimmering blue gown with her hair down and styled in gentle waves around her face, her icy glare almost dared Dante to laugh. He held back his laughter and taken her arm in his most pretentious gentlemanly manner and they walked up the stairs together. At the top they caught sight of themselves in a mirror and only then did both of them laugh, roughly, uncontrollably, at themselves, at each other, at the absurdity of the whole farce. Demon slayers in dinner wear. They regained their composure after a moment and then a few snide comments later they were on their way to the dining hall.
The feast set out for them was magnificent, greater even than the mealDante hadattended only two nights ago at Madeline's awakening. The court who sat with them didn't look at them or speak to them butthis was more out of genuine fear than any plans to end their lives painfully in the near future.
Dante relaxed and ate his meal keeping his eyes and conversation fixed on Genevieve and Lucia feeling very left out when they lapsed into speaking French which he knew next to none of. They spoke it naturally and easily though and their voices were quite beautiful in it as well, Lucia's lost a little of its edge and Genevieve's sounded deeper and smoother, less stilted. Dante let them continue as he just listened to the words, he was alarmed but not surprised to hear his name come up once or twice and acted like he didn't notice. Near midnight, the entire court headed out, each person bearing a tiny candle in a small red glass jar, down to the dark beach under the stars.
Madeline's still form, cleaned up and dressed in white, beautiful as ever, was bourn with them and laid on a large wooden pyre a few metres from the high-tide line. The entire was covered inoil and set alight. Dante watched from high up the beach with a little satisfied smile as his enemy burned. He heard a little sob from Genevieve every once in a while but Lucia, as usual, was unreadable. Shegazed abstractly at the flames, her thoughts miles away. The court showedappropriate respect but no real grief; the pretty lunatic who had ran their coven for a day or two was dead and life went on. The flames died down as the sky turned deep blue in the East and the stars weakened. Dante was by now getting pretty tired and definitely wanted to get off this island and back home. He caught Lucia's arm as the procession headed reverently inside.
"I'm getting pretty sick of this place, I'm changing then heading home. Are you, I mean, what were you planning to…" he trailed off uncertain of just what he'd been planning to say. He looked up at her and saw her smiling at him. He bristled. "Do you want to return with me to the Devil May Cry is all I wanted to know."
She smiled still and said teasingly again;
"As long as I'm welcome."
He'd smiled slightly and taken her arm to escort her indoors in his gentlemanly way but she'd waved his arm away with a laugh. They walked in companionable silence back down to the cellar where they slept.
Thought I'd put the author's note at the end of the chapter this time so as not to interrupt the flow of the story. Sorry for the cliff-hanger last chapter, folks, couldn't resist. That, anyway, was the penultimate chapter of the story although i'm writing a pretty neat Epilogue that might become the beginning of a sequel. We'll just see.
Love, as usual, to Keep Me In The Shadows (there's always time, "do what you can, what you want, what you must" - KMFDM - Trust), Embrace-the-Darkness (cruel's what i am and what i do, hope this makes it up to you) , Lucia and everyone else (ha ha) who reviewed this. You keep me going guys, thank you xx.
Bye for now, Skaye.