A/N: I'm back! This is the 1st or 2nd update I have done since Otakon and I have less than a month and a half to prepare for the next con. The title of this chapter doesn't necessarily reflect my views on reading. I aslo changed the title... still open to suggestions! Anywho... I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 2: Books are Bad
We are getting ahead of ourselves here. This is not where this story begins. This tale begins in a mercenary's shop in the heart of the city. The shop is Devil May Cry.
There were no calls all day and the crew decided to pass the time, any way they could. Trish and Lady played poker, using skittles as chips. Vergil was lying on the red leather couch that ran parallel to the grated stairs. From there he'd throw a phantom sword towards the ceiling, giving it enough strength so that it would free fall and land next to him. The glowing blue swords surrounded him and the old couch. Only two sounds were heard like clockwork. TWISSH. Vergil sent the sword up. THAANG. The sword lands blade down in the floor.
Dante on the other hand, spent his time showering. After about fifteen minutes, he graced everyone with his presence. He was of course, shirtless wearing his leather pants with a white towel draped over his head. Vergil formed a sword in his hand and decided to snuff it out at the last second. At the same time Dante opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of orange juice. He opened it and proceeded to pour the contents straight into his mouth. In the blink of an eye, Vergil created another spirit sword and launched at Dante's head. Out of reflex, Dante activated his Quicksilver ability to stop time, only for the sword.
"Use a fucking glass," Vergil shouted. His phantom sword fizzled out existence. Dante only rolled his eyes.
"Dante's getting really good at that," Lady commented quietly to Trish who then agreed. There was a point where Dante would freeze time for an entire city block, but now he has gained enough control where he could concentrate on a single object or person.
The phone rang and Trish got up the answer it, "Devil May Cry... Yes. Yes, ma'am... Okay. Please calm down. Yes. Don't worry, we can take care of it. Yes... I believe that it would be safer for you to stay in a hotel or with friends or relatives. May I have some contact information from you? Okay, great. We can meet with you tomorrow night. Thanks. Good bye." She hung up the phone. "We got a password... Hey, Verge!"
"Huh?" His concentration slipped as he sent a sword through the ceiling.
"You have a job tomorrow night."
"But I have an exorcism tonight." Vergil glared at the woman and all of the swords he created disappeared, in an explosion of beautiful crystalline swirls.
"Suck it up! Devils never cry." The blonde said giving more attitude to the blue clad devil. Dante snickered with a mouth still full of juice.
"What kind of job is it," Vergil asked with a defeated sigh.
"The woman thinks there are poltergeists in her home, so you'll need to do a reading and possibly have them removed by then."
"That would mean that I would have to do a cold reading today."
"She's sending a courier with photos of her house."
"Get Dante to do it," Vergil whined.
"Wha-? Don't rope me into this! You're the psychic of the family!"
"Dante," Vergil said giving a wolfish grin, "You and I both know that what you said isn't true."
'As far as they know, I'm not,' Dante shot back telepathically.
'You lazy asshole!'
"I know," Dante said with a grin as he turned back to his juice.
"Could you at least pick up some books for me?"
Dante let out a groan.
'It's the least you can do, asshole,' Vergil said telepathically while keeping a straight face.
"Fine," Dante sighed as he threw his hands up in defeat, "Give me the list."
Vergil scrawled down some titles and specifications for each book. Vergil had only wanted three books, but the notes that he jotted down made it seem as if he need much more. "And make sure you try to get the earliest edition for the first book and the latest for the final one" Dante's only response to Vergil was to rub his fore and middle fingers together with his thumb.
'It's the least you can do,' Dante mocked telepathically. Vergil grudgingly reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and produced a wad of cash, with plenty more in reserve. Dante's eyes grew wide and mouth gaped like a fish out of water. "Psychics make more money," Vergil said slyly.
"At-hem" Dante cleared his throated and straightened up, "I'm off." He went to the door but stopped as if he forgot something. He went to his desk to grab his weapons and coat, he then sauntered over to the women playing cards. He wrapped his hand around Lady's wrist, which her response was to bring a glock to his forehead. "What do you want?"
"You're coming with me."
"Wha- What happened to asking?"
"I need a human and I'm pretty sure Vergil would like to see me fry with his reading selections."
"What?"
Dante decided to break it down for her, "I'm a demon, you're a human. Vergil chose some holy texts for me pick up. Demons can't touch them... but you can, hence the fact that you are coming with me." Before she could protest, Dante had already swept her up and slung her over his shoulder. He bid his counterparts a good day and stepped out of the door.
Moments later the pair were on the street making their way to the rare bookstore. Just as they rounded to corner to get to the front door, a figure bolted from the door way and knocked Lady down. All she could make out was the baggy camouflage pants that it wore. A stinging in the back of Dante's mind kept him from reacting. "Asshole," she shouted down the street as he rounded the corner.
"Lady, are you okay," Dante reached a hand down to help her up.
She could see the concern written plainly on his face. "I don't need your pity," she slapped his hand away and brought herself to her feet. He sighed in near disappointment.
"How are we supposed to be partners if your won't accept help when you need it. I understand that you would rather be independent, but just remember: no man is an island."
"You're one to talk. I've seen you take your fair share of beatings in combat, all because you don't want me to jump into the fray, all because I'm a human!"
"That's different."
"How's that different? It seems like a double standard to me."
"I can heal myself... so I can stand to take a few hits. But you can't. I don't want to see you get hurt. Trust me, if I could give you my powers I would." Lady's expression changed, but not to one of understanding. Hurt was painted across her face. She couldn't believe that he thought so little of her abilities; that she couldn't handle herself in battle. An errant tear trailed down her cheek. When she noticed it, she quickly wiped it away with her gloved hand. She spun on her heels, quick to hide any more emotion from Dante. Lady promptly walked into the store.
RIIING! A small brass bell announced Lady's presence to the proprietor. "Hello," the kindly old man said. Lady only threw up a hand in response. RINNG! Dante was in the store now. "Lady... wait."
"Just give me the list," Lady said angrily through gritted teeth. Dante fished in his pocket and handed her the list Vergil had made.
"Hey... sonny," the old man said just after a short whistle, "M'ere." He waved his hand inward, signaling for the white haired hunter to come closer. Dante walked up to the counter. "What'd you do to get the 'lil lady all riled up?" Dante towered over the balding old man. He looked so frail, but also seemed to be feisty at the same time. "I told her the truth," Dante uttered to the man, keeping his voice within whisper range.
"The truth? You know better that to tell women the truth."
"Excuse me?"
"What'd you say?"
"I told her that she doesn't accept help even when she needs it."
"Pishaw! Women nowadays, are what they call..." he searched for the word, "Independent. So, young men like yourself, need to adapt. Let her assert her freedom while you discreetly give her aide. Ya understand?" Dante nodded. "Good. Now kiss and make up before she gets even more upset."
"Uh...Wha-? No... we're..." Dante was turning red from embarrassment, "we're not involved."
"Sure, you aren't," the old man winked.
Dante walked down an aisle and found Lady with two crusty looking books while hunting down the last one. He walked up behind her and said, "I'm sorry."
"Water under the bridge," she replied without making eye contact. There was a long awkward silence.
"Is this the one," Dante asked trying to make conversation. Lady glanced just over her shoulder to see Dante point out the book and shove his hands in his pocket. "Are you really that paranoid in here," Lady laughed.
Dante scrunched his face and lied, "No."
"Oh, C'mon! I just saw you hide your hands as if your fingers were going to get chopped off!"
Dante decided to come clean, "When I come in here, I know that I can't touch anything, read any texts and I have to be careful of what I say. These kinds of books in my hands could very well burst into flames. And a lot of them are enchanted so if I say anything rash, it may come true. Lady, these kinds of books are bad news."
Lady threw her head back in a fit of laughter. "Are you serious?!" Soon the books in her arms were on the floor and she was clutching her sides so that she wouldn't burst at the seams. "Yeah, yeah... Yuk it up... But I'd be careful too if I were you."
"What do mean by that?" Lady's fit had ended.
"You're a descendent of a priestess, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"A priestess could just as easily cast an enchantment without realizing it."
"Pfft. You're full of it, Dante."
"Lady, I'm just—"
"So, you are saying that if I pick up a random book—"
"Lady, don't!"
Lady proceeded to pick up a leather bound book and opened it to the book's natural crease. "And if I were to read—"
"You're playing with fire!" Dante reflexively curled up to prepare for a blow of any kind.
"Ingredior ceterus semita," she read a random line from the book in the best spooky voice she could come up with. She went into another fit of giggles.
"That's not cool."
"Aw, C'mon, Dante! Nothing happened... you didn't get struck down by lightning or anything. You gotta get a hold of yourself. I have never heard of a devil being afraid of anything."
Lady picked up the books and found the final one. "I'll meet you at the check out counter, Dante," she said laughing.
Dante got to the register just as the old man rang up the books. "Your total comes up to 573.25, sonny."
"Are you serious?!"
"'Fraid so, kiddo."
"C'mon, Dante, pay the man." Dante bid farewell to the bulk of the wad (correction: Vergil's wad) and grabbed the bag that held the books. The two left the store and headed back to the shop. Dante stopped dead in his tracks when he felt the same stinging sensation as earlier. "Dante, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing," he lied.
What he didn't tell her was that he was sensing a paladin; a knight charged with eradicating all demons, no matter their affiliation. Dante hadn't felt one following him since we was a teenager. And it was an uneasy feeling indeed. No matter how unsettling it felt to be followed, he couldn't let it know that he was wise to the game and he definitely could not lead it home and put Vergil and Trish at risk as well.
"Hey, Lady, what do you say I take you out to drinks...? Vergil's treat."
"What, now?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
The couple walked into a random bar, just at the end of the street. "Drinking contest! Drinking contest starts in five minutes! Buy in is only ten bucks," shouted the stocky bar owner.
"Lucky me...this is my kind of bar," Dante commented to Lady, "Do you want in?"
"Sure, but if you join, isn't it cheating?"
"They don't have to know," Dante said slyly. "Two more," Dante shouted up to the bartender.
"And we got two more newcomers! Any other takers?" There was no answer to the owner's last call. "Okay, someone get the newbies a seat. Alright, the rules stand... Each one of youse get a bottle of your choosing. The last one that hasn't given up or passed out gets the pot. Right now the pot stands at two hundred dollars. Any questions?" He scanned the crowd for anyone who didn't understand the rules. "Okay let's begin, the contest starts on my mark."
"Pick yer poison, handsome," a bartender told Dante. She was overweight, and seemed to be around her fifties, with red hair. Dante was sure she was a knock-out back in her day. Dante tilted his head to the side, allowing platinum locks to fall into his face. With a wide smile he pointed out the large bottle of Everclear behind her. "Corn liquor," she asked in astonishment, "Are you sure?" Dante nodded. "I don't think a light weight like you could handle it. What are you, like a buck eighty?"
"You'd be surprised," Dante replied.
"Okaaay, it's your funeral, kid. Earl, you'd better get an ambulance on the horn, this one here ordered the Everclear," she stuck a thumb in Dante's direction. She set a rock glass in front of Dante and cleaned a thick layer of dust off of the unopened bottle. The bartender continued down the line, asking everyone for their drink of choice. Lady picked a cheap bottle of rum and the contest was underway.
"You all should know your limits here," the owner began, "When you feel like you can't take anymore, kindly put your hand over your glass and we'll mark it as a surrender. Ready?" Dante slipped out of his leather coat, revealing that he was shirtless underneath, sending many women into a swoon. The owner rolled his eyes and continued, "You ready, pretty boy?"
"Yeah."
"Get set. GO!" And the contestants were off. Each of the twenty had a system to putting away the liquor. Some foolishly took it straight to the head. They were out in a matter of moments. Others prudently paced themselves. Lady was finished after her fourth or fifth shot. Only a few minutes into the competition there were only three contestants left. Dante sat in the middle. To his right was a man in a blue business suit who was nearly half way through a bottle Jim Bean. (Never, ever underestimated the alcoholic capacity of a business man!) To Dante's left was a man dressed in a black tee shirt and a pair of camouflage pants. His drink of choice was Bombay Sapphire. Dante was going strong with his bottle. Only a third of it was left.
THUD! Another contestant was gone. Dante looked to his left and the camo guy was on the floor. Dante learned over with his glass held high as he exclaimed, "Mazel Tov!" The business man downed his next glass, confident the boy to he is left would not win. Dante was finally getting tipsy, and the bottle was just about gone.
That boy isn't human... the sheer amount of alcohol... He should have succumbed to alcohol poisoning by now, the business man thought, No matter, let the fool keep drinking... if he passes out, I win. Dante looked over at the man next to him, "Slow and steady, huh?"
"What?"
"Is that how you intend to win this race?... So be it." Dante shrugged and called for another bottle. Dante opened his new bottle and poured the clear liquid into his glass. "You finished yet?"
The man was starting to get intimidated. He looked at his bottle, which hadn't cleared the half-way point yet. All he concentrated on was the smug look on Dante's face and the fact that –
Is the room spinning?
The man stared at his bottle again and it seemed to laugh at him. MWHAHAHA!
"Whooo! Another," Dante hollered as the bar cheered him on. Dante had polished off another bottle. The man looked in disbelief at the white-haired young man next to him. A few short moments had passed before Dante had asked for more. True to what the bartender had suggested, EMTs were on standby just in case either passed out or died.
"Kid's got a liver of steel," the bartender said to the owner. Lady put a hand on Dante's shoulder. Sure she was drunk, but she was coherent enough to know when it was time to call it quits. "Dante, I'm sure that you got this guy beat."
"Okay... One more for the road." Before Dante could bring the glass to his lips, the other man placed a hand over his drink. "No more," he said, "I am sure if I ever attempted to truly keep up with you, it would mean certain death for me."
"No biggie, guy," Dante slurred as he reached over to shake the man's hand.
"Dude! Where's mah monay," stumbled from Dante's lips.
Dante put on his coat and the owner gave up the two hundred dollars as promised. "Thanks, guy," Dante said.
"Hey kid," the bartender spoke up with genuine concern written on her face, "Are you okay to get home?" Dante looked over to see that his competitor with his head down on the bar top. The other one with the camo pants was still passed out on the floor. Dante leaned over more to get a closer look at the man, but nearly fell off the stool. He would have if Lady wasn't there to act as a secondary support.
"I'm cool. 'S no biggie... Me and mah gul walked hur. C'mon hon, les' go home." Dante picked up the bag of books and stumbled to the door. "Lemme carry you home," Dante whispered to Lady.
"You can barely stand, let alone carry me."
"Meh. Your loss."
The two trekked back to the shop, two hundred dollars richer. As for Dante, he could sense that paladin was no longer tracking him. At least his original plan worked. Some time later they walked into Devil May Cry as Dante greeted the seemingly empty shop with a loud, "Lucy, I'm home!" As soon as he stepped across the threshold, Dante dropped to his knees gripping his stomach and cupping another hand in front of his mouth. "What's up," Lady questioned.
"I don't feel so good," Dante whined. Before Lady could manage a full blink, she tracked a red blur moving past her and into the bathroom. The door swung back on its hinge and Dante was already there shoving his face just over the toilet. WAAAAAAGUH! BLEECH!
"Hey," Trish said making her way down the stairs, "You guys are back. Took you long enough."
WAAAAAAGUH! "Oh God! Why is it so chunky?!"
"And I see that Dante's praying to the porcelain god," Trish added.
"Yeah," Lady sighed, "Its business as usual around here."
So you all probably saw my sad attempt at Latin... (its okay... feel free to laugh.) If you can guess what the phrase, ingredior ceterus semita, means... you may win a hug.