Disclaimer: DMC belongs to CAPCOM and all that jazz. Plot's mine. Sorry it took me so long to update this one. Gadget

CHAPTER 1

However, that had been several years ago, and now, Trish was dead too. It seemed a lot of the people he'd ran around with, a lot of the people he'd taken jobs for that is, were dead or had just disappeared. Not that Dante gave a shit, but it was something he kept locked away in his mental filing cabinet, just for future use. Just to keep stock of things, to see if there were any patterns; because patterns meant a suspect. And in Dante's business, suspects were usually something less-than human.

His stereo blasted out a Rob Zombie song, the dark music putting a fuse next to his adrenaline and holding it there. It was days like this that got the demon slayer feeling down; days like this when the liquor cabinet was wide open and Dante didn't even use a glass. 'Death of it all' rapped up, Dante nodding along as he cleaned his guns Ebony & Ivory. 'Foxy Foxy' began with the beat of the drum and Dante's foot beat out the tempo, putting his guns back together. As the song got to its chorus, Dante let his body move to the music.

Most people took music for granted but he knew that it was all about the movement and what it did to a person. Rob Zombie's music, for instance, made Dante want to dance and if he had his iPod with him while he was hunting, then it made him want to shed some blood. Preferably not his own blood.

The phone rang; he turned the music down a few notches. "Devil May Cry," He said.

"In blood there is truth," A voice said into his ear.

Dante smiled; someone finally knew the password. "How may I help you?"

"The police have tried to cover this up," The voice said and Dante pulled a notebook and a pen from his desk, preparing to write down any details. "Do you know the flesh club on Sunset?"

"Yeah," Dante said. "What about it?"

"Some of the girls have gone missing," The voice said. "Not like normal 'missing' there's been things left behind. Occult-like things, reversed pentagrams, goat horns and some other freaky shit."

"Yeah? Sounds like the cops can handle it to me," Dante said, he needed a real demon-slaying job, not some missing girl sort of shit, he needed something that paid. The kind of job that would let him get his hands dirty with blood and grime; the kind of job where he could bring home another 'trophy.'

"Don't hang up! Two of the girls have been found, they were skinned alive; whatever did it left their muscles and organs in place. There wasn't any damage to anything under the skin. Nothing human could pull that off without leaving some trace, so far we've- the cops haven't got a thing. Other than they all worked for Devotion."

Dante felt one brow rise; Devotion was the head of the flesh trade and no one fucked around with her girls without permission or there was hell to pay. "You sure this ain't some turf war?" He asked.

"The cops are sure, yeah, so is Devotion. She said to get in contact with you; she can pay you ten-thousand a day to look for the bastard that's hurting her girls. Bring whoever it is to her, alive so she can fuck him up and she'll double it."

Dante whistled. "I'm in; I'll be there in thirty." He hung up without another word.

(pagebreak)

Mallet Island was not the sort of place that Dante would normally take his vacation. No, he preferred a white sandy beach, palm trees and hot women in sexy bikinis. Mallet Island looked more like a fortress, its battlements large and threatening, they dominated the landscape. And then there were the trees; ancient looking things, so old that they had become petrified with the passing of time.

Then there was the castle itself. Gothic in its design, complete with high towers, a drawbridge and stained-glass. It was decaying rapidly with the increase in storm-related activity. But Dante could feel the air of danger and foreboding surrounding the island like some blanket. It was like a shield almost; a barrier to the outside world, to the human world. Mallet Island wasn't even on a map; Trish had led him there. The word trapped whispered over and over inside his head but he ignored it.

That was when he'd found the relief of the Judge of Death. It had been a statue imbedded in the wall with a sword jutting from its chest. He had already discovered that in the castle, things weren't as they seemed but the sword seemed to call to him.

"I am Alastor." The voice whispered inside his head. "The weak shall give their souls to me."

And then the sword had flown from the wall, striking Dante in the chest and pinning him to the ground. Everything went black. Then there was nothing but blue light and searing electricity, and the pain. Dante couldn't forget the pain. But he'd shaken it off, standing, letting the sword pass through his body like it wasn't even there. The sword had aloud it, letting him know right then and there that Alastor belonged to him.

But it had still hurt like a son of a bitch.

(Page break)

Devotion's club was called "Nevaeh". Heaven spelled backwards, sometimes it seemed like only Dante got the irony. For someone kicked out of heaven, Devotion had a decent sense of humor. Or maybe it was just macabre, whatever it didn't matter to Dante.

Anyway, Devotion was waiting for him at the bar, stirring her scotch by moving the glass around. She was dressed like your average business woman in black pin-stripe jacket and skirt combo. Her ebony hair fell in waves all around her and stars seemed to shimmer in the strands. She looked at him with mascara rimmed blue eyes.

"Oh Dante," She said and her throaty voice was a purr. "So good of you to come."

Dante leaned against the bar, trying to look cool and calm. He was very far from either of those emotions though; Devotion screamed a promise of amazing sex and the best smoke anyone had ever had.

"I'm at your disposal babe," He said.