Chapter 19

The sun rose slowly, casting out a brilliant light, made all the more dazzling, almost blinding as the glow reflected off the whiteness of the snow. Though the sun seemed to be celebrating its own beauty, the magnificence of the scene was lost upon Dante, who continued to trudge on wearily. He had always known that the mountains were cold most of the time, but he had never counted on exactly how cold they were. He had once told Trish that he was scared of nothing apart from losing those that he loved. He had also told her that he would never go into a situation with regrets, that he would take whatever risks necessary. He told her that he was very dogged when it came to a mission, nothing could deter him from his goal. He had never thought he would end up hating the cold. But then again, he hated the heat of the summer as well. He groaned softly to himself; it looked like the British tradition of complaining about the weather, no matter what the weather was like, had finally rubbed off on him.

He paused for breath, shivering in the cold and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, breathing in the fresh air, and savoring it. In the city, everything was different. It was noisy, polluted, busy, filled with people. In the city you never really noticed whether you felt lonely or not, mostly because you didn't have the time to feel lonely. He loved it. The country, the mountains especially was completely opposite. There was so much open space, and there was nothing to fill it. There was no noise save for the sounds of falcons and small hawks calling to each other.

He tensed and blinked, stopping where he stood, trying to ignore the feel of the snow lapping into his boots. The baying of wolves echoed in the air, bouncing off the rocks. Dante growled softly to himself as he caught the faint taint of demon aura. It slowly began to grow and get stronger and stronger, until he felt that he was suffocating on it. His eyes narrowed as he tried to locate the demons, knowing they were close by. Suddenly, he saw a pair of orange eyes looming closer towards him with every passing second. From the orange eyes came the black wet snout, and then the red flash as the creature opened it's mouth and gave vent to another baying howl. Dante cursed under his breath. Wolves…white demon wolves.

It appeared as though Bolverk was still around. As he watched with growing despair, more and more wolves seemed to gather around him. His mind was wracked with worry. Here he was, cold, exhausted and ill equipped to climb great distances at great speed. How the hell was he meant to cope against them?

It was at that point that one snapped at him, growling. Dante hissed softly with pain as the wolf latched onto his hand, drawing blood. Crimson stained the pristine white snow, a large ugly mark. The smell of blood excited the demons and they began to draw nearer. Dante had no choice but to run.

Snow churned under his feet, coming out behind him as a spray. The wolves gave chase immediately, howling their hunting-cries to the sky. Dante felt his breath beginning to rise in his breath raggedly as he ran, stumbling every so often, too often as the snow threatened to throw him off balance. Adrenalin fuelled him, forcing him onwards. It seemed to do little good as the demons drew nearer. At last, he felt enough power rippling through him. He turned around to face them, sword in one hand, gun in the other.

He cried out with anger before bulling into them, cutting a swathe through them. The demons yelped with alarm as several of them fell to his deadly weapons. They doubled back before regrouping and charging him as one. Dante was ready as he dodged to one side, picking off a few of the demons that were running at the flanks of the horde.

As one, the horde turned quickly and rushed at him again. Dante tried to go for the same form of attack but the demons knew what to expect and promptly started running in a zig-zag line, making it impossible for Dante to slash at them like before. Dante hissed with irritation before flinging his sword at them, watching it as light reflected off it's shining blade, casting wild patterns on the snow. One wolf howled in pain as the sword sliced into it repeatedly, before collapsing into a bloody heap.

The rest stopped, more than half their number dead. Dante caught his sword as it swerved back towards him and readied himself. The wolves stared at him. One of them, the leader by the looks of things, gave a short guttural growl and then turned tail. The rest seemed to hesitate before following, leaving Dante to stare after them as they slowly receded into the distance, a mass of white. Soon they disappeared amongst the snow. Dante couldn't fight off the feeling that he hadn't seen the last of them. The fight had been easier than expected, and he knew from previous battles that a battle with a single demon wolf was never really easy, but to fight a horde of them was exhausting.

What had called them off? Had they simply gotten tired and left him alone? Dante didn't like that thought. He never liked to let an enemy live to see another day. Was Bolverk still around? Dante had thought that he had put paid to him when he was stuck on that accursed island. But he had seen stranger things happen. If Bolverk was still around, then he'd just have to fight him and win again.

The solution sounded simple, but Dante knew that it was anything but. Bolverk had weight and speed to his advantage. And his weapon had better range than his swords. But if he had defeated Bolverk once, he could easily find a way to do it again.

Dante looked back towards where he had last seen the wolves and scanned the area. There was nothing. The demon taint had long ago disappeared, and he was left alone, isolated, in the bleak barren world of the mountains. With a soft sigh, Dante turned and continued trudging onwards. He almost wished that he had a single wolf to keep him company. It had been a worrying but nevertheless a welcome break to the traveling.

Lorelei sat down carefully beside Reiko and stroked a lock of hair away from his face. He lay still, unaware of his surroundings. She sighed before turning to look towards Remy. The vampire looked grave.

'He's no longer safe here. I do not know if the harpies saw whether we came out of the building or whether we re-entered it. We had been talking outside for a while when we were suddenly set upon. It's a huge risk for him to stay here.' He sighed and sat on Reiko's other side. 'But the question is, where are we meant to take him?' Lorelei looked thoughtful before looking up at him.

'We could always take him to Devil May Cry,' she suggested. Remy frowned slightly before getting up and pacing around the room.

'We could…' he said reluctantly. Lorelei caught the tone of his voice.

'What is it? What's wrong?'

'If we go to Devil May Cry, what's to become of you? Reiko told me everything, that you were staying with him so then your mother won't find you. So then you could have added protection from the dragon.'

'But think of it this way. I'm not really all that important, am I? I'm just a human girl who got caught up in this. If I die, then no one will really miss me. I'm not all that integral to any of this. Dante just wanted to keep me safe. Reiko is an important person though, isn't he?'

'Yes. He is an important member of the vampire society. Not only that, but the Master Vampire asked him to gain an alliance with the harpies in exchange for his help.'

'What does Reiko need the Master Vampire's help for? He's strong enough isn't he?' Lorelei asked. Remy laughed humorlessly at Lorelei's question.

'He wants to form an army, to fight against this demon empress or something who wants to take over the world. All this is just a stepping-stone.' Lorelei's eyes widened and she quickly looked towards Reiko, surprised.

'An army?'

'Yes.'

'Wow…'

'It is a fool's errand. I don't like this deal he undertook with the Vampire Master. Something doesn't feel right.' Reiko slowly opened his eyes and groaned. He winced with pain as he tried to sit up and then fell back, panting slightly.

'What happened?' He groaned. Remy smiled towards him but looked vaguely nervous.

'Harpies. They attacked us.'

'I know that!' Reiko snapped with an uncharacteristic anger. 'I know that already. How did we get away? What happened?'

'Lorelei did…something…' Remy began.

'I didn't do anything!' Lorelei shrieked at that point, standing up quickly and facing him, rage blazing in her eyes. 'I didn't do anything, will you stop accusing me of stuff? I don't know what happened, maybe it was a gas explosion or something? A very small one?' Remy gave a short impatient bark of laughter.

'Don't you think it's odd how only the harpies, your enemies, were the only ones who got hurt? Surely if it was a gas explosion, a teeny tiny gas explosion it would hurt all of us? Yet I was not hurt, and Reiko didn't sustain any further injuries. Neither did you.'

'I don't know what blood you drank tonight, but you're insane!'

'SILENCE!' The two immediately fell silent and both looked towards Reiko, who had succeeded in sitting up in bed. He was staring at them both, and rage was shimmering in eyes. Lorelei swallowed hard and Remy cowered down slightly before bowing nervously.

'Master, I was only saying that-'

'Enough, Remy.' His voice allowed no room for argument. His servant sighed before sitting down meekly. 'Lore…'

'Rei…'

'I want you to leave the room for a little while.' Reiko said, his voice calm. Lorelei felt tears suddenly sting her eyes, scared that she had done something to make him hate her.

'I'm sorry…' she faltered. Reiko smiled at her warmly, making her feel a little better, but not by much. She licked at dry lips before she left the room, closing the door lightly behind her. She rested her back against the door, and then sank to the floor, trying hard to calm herself, trying not to cry. Her breath caught in her throat before she started crying softly to herself, trying to stem her tears.

Voices were raised in Reiko's room. One was loud and angry, and the other was soft-spoken and humble. Who was who? Was Reiko really so upset? What was he upset about? Was he in a bad mood because he'd been caught so badly unawares? Or was it Remy, trying to convince Reiko that there was something wrong with her?

She thought about the words he had spoken to her and her crying began afresh. Her mother and sister had always treated her differently, had never allowed her the type of freedom that the other girls had had when they had gone to college or to school. She was twenty years old, and she was treated like a six year old by her family. Why? Did they know something about her that she didn't? And then there were all those girls at her school who had bullied her, and called her a witch and all kinds of names. Some wounds never healed, and this was one of them. Had they been right? Was there something wrong with her? Had Remy been right? Had she caused that explosion? Was she really a freak?

High on the isolated mountains, the winds sang their wailing dirge and chased one another with a type of rough playfulness. Dante groaned softly with weariness and shivered before bowing his head against the relentless gale and struggling onwards through the snow. He stumbled, his feet losing their purchase on the soft treacherous surface, and before he was fully aware of what was happening, he was sliding back down the mountains, back down the ground he had only so recently covered. He winced as a sharp outcrop of rock struck him heavily on his side.

He lay there for a little while, stunned and winded, his side leaking blood. He could taste the metallic scent of it in the air, and he shivered again. The stiff winds howled, almost as though in wild derisive merriment. He slowly raised his head, the wind blowing back his hair from his exhausted features. With hooded weary eyes, he forced himself to try and gain a measure of how much further he had left to go before he reached the mountain's peak. The distance was considerable, and acted as a huge blow on Dante's already thin patience. He growled with anger before heaving himself to his feet and attacking the steep climb with all the ferocity of a tiger. A new born one that is.

He sank back onto the snow stained with his own blood with a small sigh, his eyes drooping as the cold slowly but steadily sapped him of his strength. Though it was fact that he was half-demon, it was also a fact that he was half-human, and like all humans, he could feel the dangerous urge to fall asleep where he was. However, even though it was an extremely alluring idea at this point, he tried to keep alert and awake, knowing that it could very well be fatal if he did give in to his need. Now however, his human blood was telling him that his body could no longer be forced to go on like this. So it was that he found himself resting, his side healing as he drifted in a state of semi-consciousness.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and his muscles tensed, forgetting about their earlier fatigue. A ringing funereal howl rent the air before other voices joined the cry, forming an eerie, beautiful yet dangerous choir, singing a mournful melody that sang of death. Dante swore under his breath and got up quickly, sniffing the air, his eyes narrowing. He peered back down the way he came and shook his head. He could see no sign of them but he knew the wolves could be anywhere. He looked around the area immediately surrounding him and cursed again. His blood had stained the snow crimson, and the scent of it was strong in the air. How long had he been lying there? Had the wolves caught the scent? He checked his hip, found to his relief that it had completely healed and then set his sights on the mountain peak. It was best to keep on the move.

He was lucky, it appeared as though his fears were ill founded and that he had no reason to worry. As he climbed to the top there were no wolves to be seen and he remained un-attacked. In the next hours that passed, he reached the top, a mixture of desperation and determination fuelling him. If he failed, then what would happen? The picture that Reiko had painted in his mind had been like a grotesque masterpiece; he at once hated it but had a morbid fascination with its ugliness. He couldn't stop thinking about it, and the images that surfaced in his mind filled him with a cold dread. This legend was their last hope. But what if it was just that? Some legend that a merchant had created in ages long past? But every legend had to be born of something, right? The story must have had some grain of truth somewhere.
When he reached the mountaintop, he looked around and shivered, trying to breathe normally in the thin air, his chest constricting painfully with every gasp he took. Eventually, he stiffly sat down, trying to rub some warmth into his frozen legs. For a few minutes he did nothing else, merely sitting there, trying to regain his strength from the long, strenuous and dangerous climb. He took the opportunity to check out the lay of the land. To his immense relief, he could still see no sign of wolves. Moreover, their taint was still far off, too far away to be a threat. He relaxed and continued to stare around. From his observations, he predicted that the downwards climb would be considerably easier. But that stage would come later. Now was the time to turn his mind to more pressing matters.

Dante rose to his feet before slowly reaching into his haversack of supplies that he had kept with him. He dragged out the book and then flipped to the page he needed before clearing his throat experimentally. He took a swig of water, hoping that it would help ease his sore throat before calling out to the air, his voice mingling with the wailing winds. His voice rang out clear and sharp, sounding unnaturally loud in the desolate area, where only the gales kept him company. His voice echoed back at him, and Dante was surprised to hear that his voice carried an officious tone to it that he had not known he had created. He listened as his echo chanted back to him.

Deliver us, Free us

We ask only for salvation.

O warrior of heaven!

Warrior of flame!

Create for us a sanctuary from these destroyers,

This plague…Free us from their tyranny!

Lend me thy strength, Lend my thy song, thy speed, thy courage!

Lend my thy hope, and together, let us destroy all evil.

He sighed, feeling somewhat silly. To him it sounded fake, contrived, something that a rabid priest would say. And he was no priest. He was a demon hunter. He huffed out another sigh before he looked around. He began to panic. Why hadn't anything happened yet? Where was the phoenix? Had this all been a wasted effort? He scanned the skies and strained his ears, trying to catch the sound of phoenix song. He waited for a full half hour.

Nothing happened.