Chapter 2

As soon as he walked outside, Dante recoiled from the sudden coldness that pervaded his senses and saturated his body. The rain was coming down even harder, if that was even possible and within seconds, it looked as though he had just taken a shower with his clothes on. He shuddered as he made his way to his motorbike, sliding onto it and slipping the key into the ignition with trembling fingers. He wished that he had worn something more suitable, like the coat that Lady once bought him a while back when he had been asked to do a mission in Russia. The coat had been lined with white fur and it had suited him well. It still fitted him but he was soaked through now and there was not much point.

Besides the fur was always nicer when kept dry and he really didn't want to have to ruin a new coat. The blood stains had been a bitch to take out after he had returned from his mission.

He looked down quickly at the piece of paper that he had retrieved from his pocket and quickly memorized the words on the page before the ink ran too much. He sighed and threw the now disintegrating piece of paper over his shoulder before gunning the throttle and roaring off down the street, his tires screeching, the way they always did.

Inside, Vergil recoiled at the sound, hating it every time Dante did that. And his brother knew it! Oh how he knew it!

It didn't take too long to find the name of the place he'd been told to go to. It took the red clad slayer all of ten minutes to reach there, and as soon as he set eyes upon the village, he felt as though he had stepped into some kind of novel. The place was a quiet sleepy little place, the kind that was so small that everyone knew everyone else, and that nothing could be kept a secret from anyone else. It immediately appealed to him for a reason that he couldn't quite place. Still, that wasn't important now. The weather was bitterly cold and he just wanted to get this over and done with so then he could go home and sleep.

Eventually, he was able to find the right address and he quietly knocked on the door, noting the time, seeing how late it was. It took a while but the door slowly but surely opened, revealing a small bespectacled old man. As soon as he saw him, Dante knew that he wouldn't be charging anything for this job.

'Oh…you must be the exterminator, yes?' the man asked, in a quavering voice. Dante knew better than to try and correct him and nodded. 'You came to inspect the noises?' Again, Dante felt it best to keep it simple and nodded. 'Would you like some tea first and to warm yourself by the fire before you start?' Dante smiled.

'I'd just like to get this finished. Where are you hearing the noises from?' Dante asked, expecting to be let inside and led to the chimney or something. To his surprise the man stepped outside, using a walking stick to support himself. He backed away instinctively as the man raised his arm, thinking that the man was going to try and take a swipe at him for being so pushy or something. Instead, to his astonishment, the man simply pointed. Dante followed the direction his finger was and blinked when he saw a tall building looming over the village.

'We can hear the noises coming from that there building yonder.'

'That mansion?'

'Aye, lad. Every night we can hear screaming. There be ghosts in that manor.'

'You want them gone.' The man's silence answered him in the affirmative. 'A ghost hunt, hm? Sounds interesting enough.'

'Does that mean you'll go?'

'Between you and me, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't going to do the job.' The old man smiled at these words and watched him as Dante strode towards his bike. 'Where's the road that leads to it.'

'Straight through the village. Take no turnings. You should soon be there but be careful, it's a dirt road. The mud might slow you.'

'Cross that bridge when I get to it.' And with that, he roared off, his eyes narrowed against the stinging rain, leaving the sleepy village behind him.

---

Like the old man had said, the dirt road had become nothing more than slush. It was not long before Dante was forced to get off his bike and was made to walk the distance. As mud oozed into his boots, he could only hope that there was not much longer to go before he reached his destination.

He was lucky. There wasn't. Pretty soon he came up to a set of metal gates. He gingerly placed a hand on them, wondering whether they would give way to him but it was to his utter surprise that the gate swung open easily, with barely a squeak. He blinked and then frowned, one hand slowly making contact with one of his guns, on the ready in case something untoward happened.

For a few minutes, he remained totally motionless. He barely breathed and his every sense was strained to detect any form of life. His ears could pick up nothing save for the sound of the rustling of the leaves. He could hear no demonic moans, could hear no sound whatsoever. His eyes picked out nothing out of the ordinary and so it was that he finally felt able to carry on without feeling threatened.

At that point, lightning zipped through the sky in a bewildering display of yellow, momentarily bringing light to the world. And what Dante saw in that split second stunned him.

Though the garden couldn't be described as anything less than a jungle, the exterior of the mansion was truly something to be marvelled at. He knew as soon as he set eyes on it that if anyone would be able to put words to the beauty and majesty of the building, it would have been Vergil. He felt a small pang as he thought of him. He would have loved to see this.

The mansion wasn't one of those stereotypical ones either, and it was this fact more than anything else that made it so appealing for the red clad demon slayer. Most mansions were usually dreary things, ones with ugly gargoyles dotted here and there or scattered all over this place. Dante was somewhat surprised to see that instead of gargoyles, there were angels, their faces blank and emotionless, but yet a huge improvement on the twisted grimaces that were usually present.

The mansion wasn't made of a dark stone either, which also made it all the more pleasing to his eyes, and succeeded in bringing a smile to his lips and a brightness to his eyes that had become more and more rare as time had passed on. It appeared as though whoever owned it wanted to make sure that it went against every single myth that surrounded that usually foreboding and menacing buildings. This was no haunted mansion from the stories of old. And it pleased him immensely.

So it came to no surprise when Dante decided that there really wasn't much to fear. He shook his head, about to decide that the old man was surely becoming senile when he suddenly heard a loud wailing cry, piercing and sorrowful as much as it was frenzied and turbulent. So much for his theory then. It really did seem as though there definitely was a ghost hunt on the cards tonight.

As he walked towards the doors of the mansion, he couldn't help but admire the stately grandeur that they possessed. The double doors were huge, and Dante knew that if he found it impressive, then Vergil surely would too. Even the colour of the door was highly unusual; it was ebony in colour, but really, it just made it appealing.

He pushed lightly one of the doors and blinked when it budged easily under his hand. He bit his lip, the first pangs of uneasiness worming its way into his stomach. Why exactly was the door unlocked? Still, it would do him no good to ponder on the matter, rather he would just have to be grateful that he didn't have to break his shoulders trying to smash the damned things open.

He stepped inside cautiously; there was really no real way of knowing what was going to leap out at him for a dangerous attack from around a dark secluded corner. Then again, he hadn't made any noise at all when he had come in, unlike when he had been on Mallet Island and had made a hell of a lot when he had smashed open the gates. One might even say that he had made enough noise to wake even the dead. A thin smile was brought to the slayer's lips at this thought. Then he realized that nothing actually had leaped out at him. Odd…but still, that was no reason to let down his guard. He could still remember how he had been attacked by a marionette once he had let his own inner distractions get the better of him.

Another thing that he noticed was the fact that there had been no dust unsettled when he had opened the door. Then again, closer inspection proved that there was no dust at all. The place was pristine and Vergil would have been delighted and probably would have promptly declared the mansion to be his new home. Which would have been great. Don't get him wrong, he loved his brother, he was his only kin after all but after so long of living by himself, he was getting tired of the constant company. He hadn't the heart to turn him out but…He sighed and shook his head, trying to keep a clear head. As Dante walked around, trying to be as quiet as he could, he realized that it really was a perfect place for his brother. It was quiet, secluded, it was out of the way and it was a bitch to get to in the first place. It really was perfect, the ideal home.

Then he realized he had lost his train of thought yet again.

The slayer paused when he reached the centre of the magnificent hallway, his eyes fixed on the chandelier. The whole place sang of riches and splendour. Yet there was something inexplicably uncomfortable about the whole feel. Someone was obviously here. No place would be in such good condition if there wasn't someone to make sure of it…unless it was enchanted.

At that point, the screaming started again. Dante smirked in triumph as he followed the noise to the source, running up the stairs, the floorboards not daring to betray his presence. He chased the cries down the corridor, past doors that led to God only knew what and then to the door at the very end. Without hesitation he barged right through it and drew out his gun, pin-pointing the source and aiming his gun in the same instant.

What he saw momentarily surprised him. A gleaming coffin lay in the middle of the room, the curtains of the windows drawn, the material of said curtains were thick, brilliant for blocking out the light. But the coffin was sealed shut, and a steel covered lid had been placed on the top of the coffin, reinforcing it. Well, at first he had thought it to be steel but closer inspection of the metal proved it to be titanium.

Dante had no doubts about what lay inside, and he was unsurprised when the screams started again, and came directly from the coffin. He sighed and, questioning his actions the entire time, lifted off the metal plate, turning into a demon in order to remove it. If the person inside was really a vampire, then he'd probably have been starved. Dante knew that an elder vampire would have fallen into a frenzy, would have turned into a berserker and would have found the strength to heave off the metal from the coffin, bursting forth into the night to feed on victims. But if he was right, this vampire was only a young one and as a result had merely become weak and unable to fend for itself.

He turned back into his human form before lifting the coffin's lid and peering inside, his face impassive as he studied the contents.

His suspicions had been correct. He shook his head slowly as he stared at the pale form of the vampire. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted as though deep in sleep, but Dante knew better than to think that the vampire was lost still in his dreams. The colour of his skin was ghostly white and ethereal; he was simply too weak to move.

The scream sounded again, and Dante gasped as he saw that the vampire still hadn't moved a muscle. It was with a sudden burst of knowledge that he understood what exactly was happening. Though the vampire's body had more or less shut down, his consciousness was still functioning. In other words, his thoughts were so vivid and powerful that the vampire was able to project his screaming into the minds of other people.

As soon as this fact had made itself known to him, Dante felt as though he knew why exactly the vampire was doing this. He had forced other people to hear his wordless cries in the hopes that someone would come to help him, would free him from his prison of a coffin. God only knew how long he had been trapped in there, alone and starving.

Dante knew that the most logical thing to do would be to kill the vampire then and there. But somehow, seeing the vampire lying there looking so defenceless, it made him unable to do it. Frowning, he noticed something was seriously amiss. And then he finally came to understand what exactly was missing.

The vampire had stopped screaming. He seemed aware that he had been freed, that someone had come for him at last, and that he would now be safe. How ironic, how pathetic…and how terribly sad…to think that the vampire could not see who exactly was standing over him, but could only place his trust entirely in whoever it was.

It was then that the slayer knew that he just would not be able to kill the vampire in cold blood. It was to ask the impossible from him. He found himself holstering his gun and bending down, stroking a lock of hair from his face, momentarily startled as his fingers brushed against deadly ice cold skin. He began to speak gently, as though hoping to reassure the vampire, telling him that there was someone who had really found him, that it was all real, that none of this was a part of the vampire's imagination.

'It's okay…' he said softly, 'it's okay…someone's here now, and you're going to get out of this place and we're going to find out who or what did this to you,' he whispered. He continued to speak, saying anything that came into his head, always trying to comfort. He slid his hands gingerly under the body, expecting to find that it was heavy but then became at once surprised and alarmed when he found that the vampire's body was disturbingly light instead.

That was never much of a good sign for a vampire. He needed blood, and desperately too. He looked about the room, as though paranoid that he might find his older and disapproving twin at his back, knowing that his brother would probably yell and treat him with scorn if he found out what exactly it was that he was about to do. Dante placed his wrist right next to the vampire's lips, trying to coax him into biting into his flesh. Nothing happened. The vampire was too weak, even for that. The slayer sighed softly to himself before turning once more into his demonic form, tearing at his wrist with steely claws. He let out a soft but strained hiss of pain before turning back into his human form, forcing the vampire's mouth open, letting the blood drip inside his mouth.

He watched as though fascinated as the vampire suddenly became animated, giving vent to a weak mewling cry, sounding for all the world like an extremely hungry new born kitten. He continued to sit there and watch as the vampire slowly licked at his lips. Dante's eyes widened in concern as the raven-haired being gagged and choked, his body unable to accept so much blood so soon. Dante cursed and healed the gash on his wrist before trying to get the vampire to sit up. It was no good. A single drop of blood would not magically give him strength. He was still pathetically weak, and he still hadn't opened his eyes.

The slayer sighed again before gingerly sliding his hands under the vampire's body, holding him close with steady hands. He bit his lip in consternation as the vampire groaned again. Was he hurting him by moving him? God only knew and it wasn't as though God was about to start talking to him anytime soon.

Still, he had to take the chance; it wasn't as if he could just leave the poor guy here after all! And he had just noticed the faint bruising on the vampire's jaw and on his body. Speaking of body…Dante realized only then that the vampire was barely dressed. It wasn't his fault though, he could see that. His clothes had been ripped to shreds, and he had done all he could to preserve his dignity before being trapped. No wonder why the vampire was trembling in his arms; either he was scared shitless by his touch or he was freezing…but did vampires actually feel cold? Did they ever feel warmth? It was then that Dante felt really and truly helpless. He had no clue what to do, and he felt utterly useless because of it.

Still, his common sense told him that he had done the right thing in releasing him from the coffin. But then worry clouded his mind again. Had he? What if the vampire had been locked away for a reason? One that involved destroying the world or something? Well, it was too late for that now and he wasn't about to go near the coffin again.

He sighed with relief as the vampire finally stopped spluttering completely and seemed to calm down more or less completely. Dante carefully stood up, still holding him in his arms, lifting him clear off the ground. Again he was momentarily stunned by the fact that it felt as though the vampire weighed nothing at all.

'It's all right,' he said again softly before holding him even closer again. He paused as the vampire's head lolled to one side, so that it rested comfortably against Dante's chest. Well, he assumed that the vampire found it comfortable; he himself was feeling a considerably awkward. For a split second, he swung the vampire up so then he was slung over one shoulder, quickly transferring him to the other so then he could get out of his coat. He smiled as he wrapped him in it and then held him again, blinking as the vampire resumed his previous position, his head on his chest. Dante frowned, continuing to act as though the vampire could hear him, that the vampire actually knew what was going on about him.

'Well, at least you're halfway decent now.' He scooped him back into his arms and smiled slightly, pleased as the other man stopped his trembling, even going so far as to nuzzle against his chest lightly. He watched as the vampire stopped snuggling into his chest, gritting his teeth and whimpering in a strained voice.

'K-kaa-san…' Dante said nothing, not knowing what it was the vampire was trying to say. He held him closer, allowing the vampire to rest his head against his chest, not really minding it. And so, with a vampire in his arms, safe and for the most part sound, he marched out of the manor, making sure to shut the doors behind him.