Okay, here's another Lady x Dante story for you! The first installment of what should be a short-ish but cute story!

--

Some people ask me…

How do you do it? How do you face demons and come out alive? Aren't you scared?

I tell them: it's my job. It's what I do.

What I don't tell them is that I am scared.

The difference between you and me is that I've conquered my fear. You see a demon and you run, and why wouldn't you? That would be the smart thing to do. I see a demon and I use my fear to aid me. Fear keeps me alive, keeps me on my toes. I feel scared but I fight my fear head on.

You think I'm mad, right?

Sometimes, so do I…

--

Dante.

The only demon I wouldn't and couldn't kill.

If you believe in fate, which you might do if you go for those romantic notions, it could be said that we were fated to meet. Both of us so different and yet so similar. I should have hated him – and I did at first – but it didn't take me long to realise he wasn't what he seemed. Both of us hid our true selves. Both of us hid our hurt. And, against all odds, I befriended him. A demon. But I use that word lightly because truly he is not a demon. Half-demon, yes, but that half isn't used for evil as the name suggests. It's used for good.

Anyway, three years have passed since we met at Temen-ni-gru. Three years since my father's death. Three years since I got a chance to enact my revenge. If you think much had changed since then, you'd be right. Well, sort of. They've stayed the same in that I'm still hunting demons. Stayed the same in that Dante hasn't changed at all. But they're different too, because for the first time since my mother was killed, I'm starting to feel the sense of having some stability in my life. And that stability, funnily enough, comes in the form of a white-haired imbecile in a red coat.

Yes, yes, okay, I'll admit it. Dante's my friend, even though we do end up fighting like cat and dog a lot of the time.

"Lady, where did you say this place was, again?"

Currently, we were walking side by side; his towering form meant that I had to look up at him to make eye contact. Sometimes I wish I was just a little bit taller, just so that I didn't feel so small standing next to him!

There were a few hours of daylight left and above us the sky was tinged with red and orange. I hoped we'd have found our destination before it got too dark to see but now I wasn't too sure. I'd spent a long time calculating travel distances and times, but I might as well not have bothered, since Dante hadn't been ready on time. I swear he just likes to mess up my plans for fun! Would it kill him to be on time for once? It's not like demons care whether you're fashionably late, or not. Idiot.

"Were you listening to anything I was telling you yesterday?"

"Of course. I heard some of it."

I sighed. Even if I wrote it down in big capital letters and left it on his desk a month in advance he wouldn't have a clue what the mission was about.

"I'm surprised you even remembered where to meet me." I mumbled, shifting the heavy bazooka across my back so it wasn't pressing against my shoulder blade.

"See, now that I did remember." He grinned at me but I turned from him, annoyed.

"Why do you think I enjoy wasting my time?"

"It's not wasting it when you're spending it with me, babe." He groped me playfully from behind and my fist automatically swung up to crack him good and hard across the cheek.

"Don't do that." My voice was deadly serious, but he cast me one of his aggravating, flirtatious grins. I didn't want to rise to the bait. I know he wanted to get me angry so he could argue. I actually think he likes arguing with me. Why that is, I can't even begin to imagine. Maybe I like arguing with him, too. But not now. "I mean it, Dante, we've got work to do."

Is it weird that sometimes his flirtatious interaction with me makes me sad? I can't explain it and to be honest, I don't really want to. If I start thinking about things like that then I end up getting myself into a mess. I hate not being able to understand things, especially things going on inside my own head. I mean, if you can't know and trust yourself and your own feelings, who can you trust?

No one, that's who.

"Okay, listen up, because I'm not telling you again." I took the lead, stepping sideways into a back alley, secretly happy to show off my ability to navigate the city so well. There weren't many shortcuts in this place that I didn't know of. If Dante was impressed, he didn't say anything, but he probably hadn't even noticed. I sighed and continued.

"This is a big job. From what I gather, this old factory building has housed a demon colony for quite some time. So far they've not caused too much trouble. They've not run manic in the streets, burned anything down but they probably are the cause for numerous disappearances in the area." I paused and glared over my shoulder at him to make sure he was listening. His eyes, for once, were deadly serious and my heart quickened, pleased to see it. "I did some research into the disappearances."

He rolled his eyes at me, knowing how thorough I was.

"These demons are smart." I stressed.

"Not all that smart if they got discovered before they could do any real harm." Dante asked.

"They're definitely smarter than you." I snapped back, irritated. Yes, okay, so he was the Mr. Wonderful Man Who Is Practically Undefeatable. I think sometimes he forgets that it's actually quite possible for me to die during a mission – even an easy one if I make a stupid mistake! That's why I'm so careful. That's why I do my research. I do NOT go blundering in not knowing what to expect because if I did, I wouldn't be around for long. "Are you even taking any of this seriously?"

"That's why we make such a great team, babe. You do the research and I do the killing." He slung an arm around my shoulders, and I stepped sideways, shoving him in the ribs with an elbow. Why did he have to be such a jerk? Didn't he realise he couldn't fob me off like all those other women? Didn't he know he couldn't charm me? I would not forgive him just because he thought he was acting cool and manly. I did my share of demon-exterminating, too!

"That's it. I've had enough." I quickened my step, angling myself between a narrow gap between two houses. The walls here were slick and moss covered from leaking pipes and as I emerged, my pristine white blouse was left covered with grime. I gave a half-hearted attempt at wiping it off with my hands and turned to make sure Dante was able to keep up.

Yeah, like I could possibly lose him, right?

Super-fast, super-agile Dante.

Do you think I'm bitter? I'm starting to wonder…

He sidled up alongside me and grinned, waiting for me to take the lead again. That look said it all. He knew exactly where we were going. He was just humouring me. "This little game you're always playing." I spoke through gritted teeth. "It's getting old."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Here the sun shone bands of orange across his white hair, smoothing the angles of his face. I suppose, if I was going to be honest with myself, he is handsome. I mean, it's not like I fancy him or anything, but he's not ugly. Broad shoulders. Tall. That crooked grin that I find infectious if I'm not irritated at the time. Those shining blue eyes. I don't think he knows how easily I can read his emotions through his eyes. If he's angry or sad or irritated, I can see it right there as if it were written down in words. It's one skill he doesn't have.

Right now…he's amused. And he does know what I'm talking about.

"You know exactly what I mean." I snapped, feeling my face grow hot with anger. "Can't you be serious for once? Can't we have one mission where we don't end up at each other's throats?"

He drew close and I don't know why, but I backed away. Something in his eyes…I didn't recognise. My bazooka pressed between me and the wall and I drew myself up, ready to retaliate.

"So, you're not enjoying it anymore?" There was that grin again and that…that look in his eyes. Oh…wait. I had seen that look before. It had just never been directed towards me. What was he up to? Ugh…and why is my heart racing? I'm not scared! There's nothing scary about Dante, at all!

His hand pressed against the wall beside my head and then he was leaning over me, tantalisingly close. I could feel the heat emanating from him, smell that familiar scent of worn leather and aftershave. What was he…? Why was I…? Ugh, help!!!

"There's no point in denying it." He teased, voice lowered.

"Denying what?" I rasped back, my face aflame with…anger? Embarrassment?

"That you enjoy arguing with me."

Did I enjoy it? Maybe I did. Was I going to admit it? No way! I put on a stern expression and glared up at him, aware that his face was getting closer to mine. Too close now. What was he thinking? Was he actually trying it on? He tipped his head a little and his breath teased against my mouth. Yes, he was definitely trying it on.

Then why wasn't I stopping him? Why was I letting him do this? Did I want him to do this?

No. No I didn't!

I turned my head and was reminded distinctly of that time in Temen-ni-gru. I thought he was going to kiss me then, too. Though I'm not sure he actually would have. I think it reminded Dante too, because he smiled and immediately drew back, as if realising what he had been about to do.

My face was hot and he must have seen that flustered look on my face because I know I did a terrible job of hiding it. I tried to cover it with a glare and turned to move onwards, moving along another alleyway which seemed to come to a dead end.

It didn't come to a dead end, of course. I knew my path too well for that.

At the far end, hidden in shadow was a ladder fixed securely to the wall of an empty shop. I paused at the bottom, set a hand on one of the rungs and cast another glance over my shoulder. He was closing in again and, before I had a chance to think on what had happened, I swung up onto the ladder and began to climb.

This had happened before. The whole almost kissing thing, I mean. Yes, it had maybe happened at Temen-ni-gru, though I'm not sure if I'm remembering correctly anymore. It had happened again about a year after that. We'd been out drinking, celebrating the first year of Dante's business. He was drunk and I was well on my. He'd leaned close like he wanted to whisper something to me. He said something but I never caught it. And then his hand was on my face, touching my cheek, my jaw, tilting up my head. I'd cracked him one across the head and that had been the end of that. Then there was the second time, maybe a couple of months later. I was working on my motorcycle when he came up behind me, crouching down to see what I was attempting to fix. He had reached around me, set a hand on my elbow and leaned against me. And, when I turned to glare at him, his lips had grazed my cheek. I pulled apart from him, told him to stop being a pervert and ordered him out, throwing an oily old cloth at him when he refused.

But until today there hadn't been any more incidents like that and I wondered why he'd suddenly started up again. Was it some sort of game he liked to play? Were his tarts not giving him enough attention? Was he using me until they started showing interest again? I don't even understand what he sees in those tarts, other than the fact that they're normally tall, blonde and beautiful. But what they have in looks they lack in intelligence. It's disgusting. But wait, why do I even care about the type of women he likes?

I paused at the top of the ladder and glanced down. Dante was still on the ground, his head tilted up towards me, a huge grin on his face that only seemed to grow wider as our eyes met.

"What are you doing?" I snapped, angry.

"Enjoying the view." He replied smoothly.

What did he mean, enjoying the…oh. I realised what he meant and colour burst back into my face, I smothered it with anger and aimed it for him. "You bastard!" That was it. I'd had enough of this. I vaulted up onto the roof and made a quick dash across its rough, flat surface. I leapt from one building to the other, not caring to look back to see if he was following. I knew he was. He wouldn't turn back now.

Maybe half an hour later we reached our destination, the sun low in the sky but casting enough light that we could see well enough. I crouched down and spread a map across the tiles of the roof we were standing on. "Okay. You'll wait by the front entrance with my bazooka. I need to slip inside using the vent and make my way down the hall so I can unlock the building from the inside. Now, before you say it, yes, it'd be easier to blow the thing wide open but I'd rather not let them know we're there until we're right on top of them. Have you got that?" I looked up and he nodded, somewhat vaguely.

I stood, slipped the bazooka from my back, already feeling somewhat naked without its weight. I passed it gingerly to him and he took it. Our fingers touched and my hand tingled with warmth. He knew I didn't trust anyone but him with Kalina Ann, but he'd never commented on it. He didn't now. He just took it, looked at me and then leapt from the roof. I watched him move into position and then edged round to the side of the old factory.

Now, since Dante wasn't interested in listening, I'll explain to you now what I meant about these demons being intelligent. Yes, they had killed people, they must have done. However, their targets were specially picked. They didn't take businessmen or mothers. They targeted those who wouldn't be missed if they were suddenly to disappear. The homeless. The lower ranking gang members. Drifters. Okay, so it's not rocket science to you or me, but you have to remember, most demons just blunder into this world shrieking and screaming until their end. These ones were organised. They had a hiding spot, were doing their best to stay out of trouble until…well, I don't know when, exactly. But I was certain they must have been waiting for something.

I settled by the grate and unscrewed the panel so I could squeeze through. It was a tight-fit but if I breathed in, I could just about squeeze down the short length of vent system. After a few meters of crawling on my belly I dropped down into a dark corridor, the only light coming from patches in the wall that had crumbled away. I moved silently down the corridor, being careful not to make a sound, knowing that the demons could be listening, waiting.

They were.

Something shifted to block my path, something tall, dark and slender. In it's elongated face were two splinters of fluorescent green, glowing like lanterns in the darkness. Other than that, I couldn't make out what species of demon it was, or the sort of weapon it might have.

My hands had already found my pistols and just as I was raising them to shoot, it threw itself at me, throwing my aim. The bullets ricocheted off the ceiling, both spinning uselessly across the room. I knew Dante would have heard them but what he wouldn't know was that I was currently in the middle of a wrestling match with a demon!

It was startlingly heavy and we rolled across the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs. I tried to alter the aim of my guns but the demon seemed experienced in preventing me from doing that. One of its hands grasped my throat and I gasped for breath, my lungs burning as I drew in each ragged breath. I threw a knee up into his gut and he recoiled slightly, but not enough to free me. Perhaps enough for me to aim, though?

No…!

The demon struck at me, knocking the pistol flying. It's hand – viciously clawed – caught me across my arm and bit down across my chest, grazing my collarbone and tearing my blouse. I stifled my cry of pain and hit back, taking pleasure in its pained squeal.

And then the door was being blasted from its hinges, sending us both reeling across the floor. The impact of the bazooka shook the teeth in my skull and sent my ears into a frantic ringing. But the explosion had distracted the demon and I swung round, slamming my foot into the side of its head and watching in pleasure as it buckled and fell to the ground.

The dust was clearing now and, as I looked up, I saw him silhouetted in the doorway. A dark shadow, tall and slender but powerfully built. Coat whipping wildly behind him. No. He wasn't your stereotypical hero but he certainly was a hero, though I'd never tell him I'd thought that.

The demon I'd knocked down twitched and began to rise. In the better light I could see its lupine figure. It had large, pointed ears standing upright upon its elongated face. It was slender but strong and swift with a long, bushy tail and clawed feet and hands. It snarled and its mouth was full of razor-teeth. It strengthened its posture and raised its head, howling.

A gunshot echoed and the howl ended abruptly, the body turning to black ash which blew back to shower me.

Chocking and coughing, I barely registered Dante lifting me by the arm. All I was aware of was standing next to him, shouldering my bazooka and preparing for the worst.

The worst came a second later, in the form of fifteen more creatures that came as close to the description of werewolf as I could think. Yes, they were sleek and black rather than being covered with shaggy brown fur. Their bodies swirled with green markings that seemed to glow sporadically as they moved. But they were wild and vicious and eager to avenge their fallen brother.

This was going to get interesting.

--

to be continued...