The Demon Read online

  That was when the first of the nukes fell. Nobody knew who dropped the first bomb, but the intent was clear: every country was afraid but they still, in their ignorance, thought other humans were the enemy. Each country fired its reserve of nuclear weapons onto its enemies. The United States government had actually been underground for the majority of the attacks at that point and they saw the threat for what it truly was, even if they could not believe it. The president ordered nuclear strikes on key positions held by the demons within America. Some demons were obliterated when the bombs hit, leaving gaping holes in the forces of Hell, but those holes quickly filled and there simply were not enough bombs to kill all of them. The bombs did just enough to gather the attention of Hell’s leaders. They sniffed out the human survivors in their midst and slaughtered every man, woman, and child. They forced the president to watch; forced him to witness his own failure.

  The rest of the world fought, each country out for itself, until three legions of angels appeared amid the carnage. The lone archangel stood with reinforcements at his back. With the appearance of the angels, the world began to realize it was doomed. The world leaders convened to discuss the mistakes they had all made and threw down their weapons. For the first time in Earth’s history, every country was completely at peace with one another. Humanity grew wise and sought help from the angels. The archangel who had brought his brethren to Earth took control of what became the United Earth Army. It took twenty years to properly train and outfit the U.E.A. with the skills and weapons they would need to combat the demons, and another twenty-eight years to finally defeat them.

  It was in the last year of the war when Dante lost his parents. He had been training with his master when the battle had erupted in the city’s center. His father, a sergeant in the U.E.A., immediately got a call to go to the front lines to fight. He hugged his son and his wife and took up his sword to kill the invaders. Eventually, Dante’s mother, a field medic, was called upon as well. She stood with tears in her green eyes and told Dante to be good and stay safe. She would be back soon. Then, she too left Dante in that training hall on the outskirts of the city.

  Dante ascended the tall tower, walking up scores of flights of stairs, as he had countless times before. This was his ritual. He had warded this building from the prying eyes of the humans, guarding it from becoming one of their many hovels. Over the years, Dante had rebuilt much of the building, getting help only from trusted sources. His sword bounced against his leg with each step, causing the base of the blade to tap on the rim of its scabbard. The metallic tapping was the only sound echoing off the stone walls of the tower, tapping out a rhythmic cadence. With each familiar step, Dante was taken back to his past, back to the time he had found his parents’ bodies after the battle’s end. With each step behind him, Dante drew closer to his goal. This was a routine for him, one he held once every year, and he was forty years overdue. He had been walking up the tower’s stairs for close to an hour and he was very near to the top.

  At the end of the stairs was a large wooden door. He stepped through the door onto the building’s roof, casually brushing the sign next to the door indicating the roof access as he went. White clouds dotted the sky overhead, leaving few shadows among the gloomy city. Other towers, some taller, others shorter than the one on which Dante stood, spread out as far as the eye could see. Every one of them lay in ruins, with some signs of new construction, signs of life among the dead city.

  Dante stared out over the ruins and felt a tear slip down his cheek. He had survived. He had outlived his family. He looked down and beheld the gravestones he had erected in honor of his parents. His father’s on the left, his mother’s on the right, each leaning against the other, both supporting their combined weight. Just as his parents had done in life. Nikolai and Sara, the two most loving people Dante had ever met.

  Dante knelt beside the gravestones and wiped a tear from his cheek. He pulled a black rose, plucked from his tiny garden at home, out of his coat, and placed it in front of the gravestones. He picked up the dead rose from his previous visit and tossed in over the edge of the building.

  “Eighty-… no… One hundred and twenty years since that day,” Dante sighed. “A hundred and twenty years of my life without you two with me, and I still miss you both.” Tears fell from his eyes and ran down his cheeks, just as they always did when he came to this site. “I wish that war had never come.” He wiped some of the moisture away and grinned at himself. “Heh, a hundred and thirty-two, and I still cry like a child when I come here. Some demon I am. Hard to believe I’m a part of the same race that so coldly and calmly destroyed most of our world.”

  Dante stood and walked around the perimeter of the rooftop. He kicked a loose stone over the edge and watched it fall to the street below. “I’ve done some important work, you know. Lord Death conscripted me to go into the past and make sure certain cities wouldn’t be targeted by the nukes. I was forced to kill a lot of people, though. I know you two wouldn’t approve of that and I’m sorry. But I paved the way for more people to thrive in this broken world. As long as a bit of positive can come from the ashes of the negative, I’ll accept that I did what was expected of me. I didn’t want to kill all those people. They didn’t deserve it. None of them did. But I’m not here for that. I came to say I love you both. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you. I miss you both and wish that in some way, any way, I could get just one more chance to see you both again.”

  Dante looked back to the gravestones and sighed. He wanted nothing more than to have his parents there with him in his life. He would not have felt so lonely if they had survived the war. He just wanted his family.

  Feeling another depression coming on, Dante shook his head and turned his thoughts away from his incessant loneliness. He had almost forgotten the last time he fell into a deep depression. It was several years before Death came to him to offer him the task of going to the past. His depression always led to frustration and anger, which in turn led to an entire settlement disappearing. As long as he was abroad, Dante knew that he could keep his mind occupied enough to combat his emotions. As long as he was traveling, seeing new sights, exploring new places, Dante could remain content. He decided then to go and see what changes he had wrought with his work in the past. It was time to focus on what he loved rather than work or loneliness.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dante wandered through Manhattan’s market, brushing past the many locals shopping for necessities. He noticed far more people around than before he went to the past. He had never seen the market so full outside of the harvest season. Some were familiar faces - faces he had seen on his numerous trips to the market - but others were foreign to him. He smiled at the thought of more lives being saved because of something he had done thousands of years ago and yet some of these people had seen him not two days ago.

  As he walked, Dante looked at various items in the stalls. Some merchants were selling produce, others weapons to combat the many creatures that prowled the night. One vendor was trying unsuccessfully to sell items helpful for warding off vampires, werewolves and other creatures that were once myth. The man was ancient, with a long white beard that reached his belt. He was laughed at or ignored by the many shoppers, mocked as a crazy man shouting about monsters. Dante walked up to the man’s stall and picked up a sprig of wolfsbane. The plant had been dried and pressed, ready to be ground into a powder to mix with food, drink, building materials, or clothing.

  “You won’t find better wolfsbane for at least a hundred miles, young man,” the old man stated. His raspy, weathered voice croaked out with little confidence.

  “I have a bush of this in my garden at home, kind sir,” Dante replied. “And I live only a few miles out of town.”

  The old man smiled, showing more gum than teeth, and those few teeth were rotted and black. “Smart boy, you are,” he rasped. “Not often I find someone so young who still believes. Not many alive now who remember the horrors visited upon us during the war.�
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  “Not many of us indeed,” Dante smiled. He recognized the old man. This old man had once been a childhood friend. He was only a human, therefore not gifted with the slow aging of demons.

  “Older ‘n I am, and still not even lookin’ like you’re thirty-somethin’ yet,” the old man laughed.

  Dante patted him on the shoulder and grinned. “You’ve seen better days, Gerard. How’s the family?”

  Gerard’s smile softened a bit. “My son died a few weeks ago. Got attacked by a wolf in the park. He was taking his daughter for a walk. Poor girl is in pieces.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Dante sighed. “It’s never easy losing a loved one.”

  Gerard nodded. “But enough sadness. What’ve you been up to since I saw you last month?”

  Dante smiled and shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

  Gerard’s face split into a wry smile. “You met a girl.”

  Dante’s smile vanished. “I did, actually. But, uh… it didn’t work out in the end.”

  “Shame,” Gerard muttered. “Hey, you know what? I got another granddaughter you might like. She’s in town helping me out with my stock. You should meet her.”

  “Aw, Gerard, you really shouldn’t do that,” Dante laughed. “It’s awkward enough that she’s related to you. I really don’t want to call you grand-dad.”

  Gerard laughed, a wheezing sound that turned into a coughing fit. “Don’t you worry, boy, you’ll be long buried before I’m ever old enough to be your gramps.”

  They shared a laugh at that and Dante shook his head. “I’m also planning a trip, so romance isn’t really a good idea.”

  “Where you goin’?”

  Dante shrugged. “Nowhere in particular. Just want to see the world again.”

  Gerard grinned his nearly toothless grin and shook his finger at Dante. “Ah, you never tire of bein’ abroad. Here’s the thing, though: my granddaughter wants to see the world, too. You should take her along. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with her safety.”

  Dante had no idea what to say. He did not want anyone with him, especially someone he would have to keep a constant eye on, but he knew that Gerard never made a suggestion like this lightly. The old man was usually very cold and untrusting of others. The fact that he even trusted Dante was a testament to their long friendship.

  “Fine,” Dante sighed. “I have a few preparations to make, so have her meet me at my home tomorrow. If she’s not ready by noon tomorrow, I’m leaving her here.”

  Gerard smiled and nodded. “Aye, I’ll have her there ready and willing.”

  Dante nodded and bid the old man goodbye, going back to his shopping. He needed very little for the trip as he usually went town to town and bought only what provisions he would need until he came across the next town. It was a much more time consuming way to travel, but it allowed him to learn more about the people and their towns along the way. He loved learning new things or seeing familiar things done in new ways.

  When Dante had his supplies, he went home to pack enough to last him until he reached Bethlehem, a small town more than fifty miles to the west in what was left of Pennsylvania. Along the way he noticed a new set of footprints in the sand, traveling parallel to his own from earlier that day. They went toward his home and Dante began to feel a burning anger in the pit of his stomach at the thought of an intruder.

  He raced along the beach, running toward his home. The tracks went right up to the buried submarine. When he reached the front door, he placed his sack of supplies on the ground and drew his sword. The enchanted obsidian blade seemed to suck in the light of the setting sun, causing the shadows around him to deepen. Dante placed his hand on the door handle and silently entered his home.

  The meager light in his home was just enough to illuminate the main room, showing nothing out of place. Dante crept through the living area and went into the kitchen, everything seemed in order. He moved like a shadow throughout the ground floor and found no one. That left the lower levels.

  Dante slid through a small crawl space and wound his way downward toward the entrance to the lower level of his home. The crawl space had vents into each room and allowed Dante to look into them. He found nothing amiss. The only room left was his bedroom.

  The crawl space ended just outside the room, so Dante crept out of it and approached the door. The door was closed, not how Dante had left it that morning when he left. Whoever was in his home was likely still in that room. Silent as a shadow, Dante turned the wheel on the door and unlocked it. The door swung open on oiled hinges by itself, revealing the room for Dante to see. Sitting in the chair near the dresser was a figure obscured by the dim light.

  “Who are you and why are you in my home?” Dante demanded.

  The figure stood, a shaft of light revealing his face. The sandy-brown hair was parted down one side and cut short. The sparkling blue eyes held a smirk and the man’s face held an amused expression.

  “What?” Dante gasped, nearly dropping his sword in shock. “I killed you!”

  The intruder spread his hands and said, “I know, Dante. But I learned a neat little trick to avoid staying dead. It took me a very long time to find you and I died a few more times along the way, but I finally found you.”

  “How the hell are you alive, Victor?”

  “Soul storage, you ignorant demon,” Victor sneered. “I managed to figure out how to store my soul in an object. Then it’s just a matter of waiting for some fool to pick it up so I can regenerate. Sure, it means someone else must die and have their soul taken to the afterlife, but when it means I get to hunt down a demon who was responsible for the deaths of so many innocent people, well… Let’s just say it’s all worth it. Hell, I even got my angelic powers back. I’m once again a full-fledged angel.”

  Dante felt his knees go weak. He had killed this angel in the distant past. How was it Victor could hold onto a grudge for so many centuries? And why was he here, why now? “I take it you plan to kill me, then?”

  Victor smiled. “Eventually. You see, I’m not actually standing in front of you. I came here earlier to examine the layout of your home. I left hours ago and cast a spell here to await you. This is a pre-recorded message left for you to tell you that I am coming for you.”

  “Then I suppose it doesn’t matter what I say to you,” Dante muttered, figuring the angel must have had some idea as to how the conversation would go.

  “You’ll see me very soon, Dante.” The image flickered and vanished, leaving Dante alone in his room.

  “Son of a bitch…” Dante sighed. He was suddenly glad he was going on his trip. Facing Victor without the powers Death had granted him would be a tough challenge. He may not be able to defeat the angel in combat alone. If it was strictly a battle of steel, Dante was sure he could win, but he knew Victor would use his own magical prowess to turn the tide of the battle.

  But Dante knew how to summon the abilities Death had granted him. He had the knowledge of how the spells worked and how he could control them. All he needed to do now was practice with the knowledge he was left with and he could eventually become as powerful as he was in the past. Besides, all Death had done was greatly amplify Dante’s own innate demonic abilities. Even at one hundred and thirty-two years old, Dante was considered a very young demon, and adding to the fact that he had never been to Hell, which would have awoken his powers much sooner. Being born outside of Hell granted him a more human appearance, but without the powerful energies of Hell enhancing his magical abilities, he was left almost powerless in comparison to other demons. According to his father, Dante was the first demon born outside of Hell; an anomaly and an enigma to other demons.

  Dante pushed Victor from his mind and focused on preparing for his journey. He planned on being abroad for over a year so he would have to properly ward his home against further intrusion and the elements should the weather become violent. It was simple enough; he had hired a powerful demon decades ago to help ward the place after he had finish
ed furnishing it. The demon had put up powerful enchantments and protective spells that Dante could activate easily. All he had to do was touch an amulet the demon had left behind and the wards would activate.

  He hid his few valuables in a chest which he placed in a secret compartment inside the hull of the sub for safekeeping, then threw linen sheets over his furniture to avoid having to do as much dusting as possible when he came home. He shoved spare clothes into his traveling bag and gathered his weapons into one area so he could put each in its place before he left. By the time he could finally lie down, he was exhausted and fell asleep within seconds.

  Dante awoke to a knock on his door the next morning. He checked the clock on the wall and sighed. He had slept for nearly ten hours but it felt like he had been awake all night. The knocking grew louder, more insistent.

  “Calm down,” Dante growled. He crawled out of bed and slipped his long coat over his shirtless shoulders. He had fallen asleep before even taking off his pants, so he buckled his belt and made for the front door. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Dante opened the door, feeling nearly blinded by the morning sunlight.

  There stood a short young woman, perhaps only in her early twenties, wearing new-looking traveling clothes. She had a bulging pack slung over one shoulder and she tossed her black hair in irritation at having been kept waiting so long. Her grey eyes showed a lack of amusement at Dante’s disheveled appearance. She was not unattractive, but she seemed rather plain for Dante’s taste. She glared at him as he looked her up and down, trying to gauge what kind of person she was. Her feet were shoulder width apart, with one hand on her hip, showing obvious impatience. The slight sneer looked somewhat unnatural on her face, telling Dante she was generally a relatively pleasant person. Her long hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, without a single hair out of place, suggesting a professional attitude, and she wore no makeup, offering a feeling of confidence in her physical appearance. Her clothes were newer with very little dust and they fit somewhat snugly while still allowing full range of motion. The short sword at her hip was set at a slightly awkward angle, telling Dante that she may not wear it often, therefore she may have not even been very well versed in its use.