The Other Side Of Exorcism
By Absinth.X.
Chapter One:
"I'm Looking For An Exorcist"
The shop was located in a lower-middle class neighborhood. On one side of it was a two-story flower shop, the kind in which the owners lived in a small apartment above the shop proper. The other side of it was occupied by seedy looking Italian café.
The front door was a stained glass piece depicting roses and thorns winding around a skeletal hand. Two tall windows flanked the door like sentinels. The wares behind them were concealed by a layer of dust so thick Dante was only barely able to make out what had been set on display: books, sticks of colored chalk, ceremonial knives, and what looked to be a human skull. The place had the look and feel of a witch's study.
That assumption, in fact, was not so far from the truth.
Dante glanced down at the card clasped tightly in his right hand, looking for the millionth time at the name scrawled in fluid hand across the top:
"The Borealis."
The same words had been carved in the black wood above the rose-and-thorn door.
"Must be the right place," Dante muttered to himself, tucking the small square of paper into his pant's pocket. His blue eyes hovered over the carved words. "Enzo had better be right about this…"
Squaring his shoulders, Dante entered the shop.
A bell mounted above the door rang daintily as he entered. It stilled as the door slowly shut behind him, cutting Dante off from the bright noon-day warmth outside.
A heady perfume of mixed incense wafted throughout the cool, dim interior of the building, making Dante's head ache. The annoying jangle of new-age music issued from an unseen speaker, and book cases and tables had been arranged in neat rows in the center of the shop. Artifacts were neatly organized on the cases and showed no signs of dust unlike the window displays.
Dante's eyes narrowed slightly as he took it all in, thinking back on the instructions Enzo had given him.
"She goes by the handle of 'Aradia,'" he'd said to Dante. "—and she runs a shop down on the corner of Brook Street and Fifth. She's a tough nut to crack, so you'd best not piss her off, okay—we need her. If there's anyone who can help us, it's her."
Dante sighed inwardly. 'This Aradia chick better not be an old cat-lady,' He thought as he slowly wandered through the bookshelves. 'But nobody young would own a place like this…'
Indeed, the store had a musky, old scent; like dusky books and rusted steel. It had an underlying current of pollen and dried herbs, which made Dante feel like a sneeze was perpetually building in the back of his throat.
Dante wandered fruitlessly for a few long moments, and then came upon what appeared to be the front desk. An old-fashioned cash register was sitting idly on one corner, and beneath the glass barrier of the desk itself was a collection of silver and gold daggers. There was also a display of pocket watches lying on a swatch of black velvet. A small black fountain filled with water and polished stones bubbled serenely on the other end of the desk, giving off a very 'zen' vibe. A tall set of shelves, stretching from floor to ceiling, was arranged with large glass bell-jars full of various powers and liquids, all labeled neatly in the same hand the had scribbled the shop name onto the card Enzo had given him.
A black cat with a white nose was playing sentry over the cash register. It regarded Dante with wide, unblinking green eyes as he approached. It then yawned abruptly, revealing a mass of needle teeth and pink tongue, as if dismissing Dante as a threat entirely.
Dante rolled his eyes at the cat's antics, then reached out a hand and lightly stroked the cat's ears. The feline hissed in response and arched its back. Dante withdrew his hand hastily.
"Not very friendly, are you, puss-puss?" he murmured, glancing around. No one was in sight. "I don't suppose you'd know where this 'Aradia' is, would you?"
The cat stared at him a moment and then jumped off of the register. It padded silently around its abandoned perch, plopped down onto the desk, and then proceeded to give itself a vigorous washing. Dante watched for a moment, rolled his eyes a second time, and pivoted around so he could rest his elbows on the counter-top. He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, and then noticed a long-handled hand bell sitting at his elbow.
He calmly reached out a leather-gloved hand a lifted the bell slowly, holding the clapper still with a finger.
It was a beautiful piece of work: the handle was made of what appeared to be jade carved in the shape of a woman. The bell itself was black porcelain painted with green and gold cranes.
'I could've sworn this wasn't there a minute ago…' Dante thought, perplexed. He stood still a moment, shrugged, and gave the bell a good hard ring.
For a long moment nothing happened. Dante placed the bell back on the counter, waiting for a sign of life. After a moment, he heard a rustle issue from behind the counter he was leaning on.
He slowly turned just in time to see a woman stagger to her feet and lever herself up from the floor via the cash register. Her eyes were sleepy, as was her voice.
"Welcome to The Borealis," she slurred. The cat hopped to its feet and began to rub its head against the underside of her chin. "Can I help you with anything—FELIX STOP THAT!"
She pushed the cat away from her and rubbed her eyes slowly on the back of one hand, obviously a bit more awake. Dante watched wordlessly, amused.
"What?" she asked crossly, catching his look.
"Nothing," he chuckled. The girl's brow furrowed at that, but she remained silent.
Dante found himself assessing her looks after a moment, as he did with most women. She was rather tall, with a willowy build and a nice trim figure that suggested a good amount of physical activity. Her light brown hair was caught up in a short ponytail that only barely brushed the nape of her neck, and she had bangs cut at an odd slant. Her almond-shaped eyes were a pale shade of gray-blue, which almost seemed to glow in her sun-kissed skin.
"Can I help you?" She asked blandly, summoning his full attention. Dante grinned playfully.
"Probably." His eyes glittered, and then he sobered. "I'm looking for someone named 'Aradia.'"
The woman regarded Dante for a moment coolly. He stared back.
"What do you want with her?" she asked abruptly. Dante's eyes narrowed.
"Why do you want to know?" he asked. The girl's stare did not waver as she said:
"I think I have the right to question a man packing twin heat and a broadsword, wouldn't you say?"
Dante looked down at himself: Ebony and Ivory were holstered behind his back just like always, and Alastor was strapped between his shoulder-blades, as was the norm. His bright red coat and black leather body suit were also in place, as were his many belts and trademark leather boots.
Dante looked back up at her and grinned. "You're a sharp one."
"Don't gotta be sharp to notice those." She replied, pointing lazily at Dante's arsenal. She leaned forward so her elbows rested on the counter top. Her black peasant-top remained upright at the top, hiding cleavage much to Dante's dismay. "Now spill. What the hell is a guy like you doing in a place like this?" Her look screamed no-nonsense, and Dante found himself growing engaged.
He mimicked the woman's posture and leaned on the counter so that they were nose to nose. Her eyes narrowed, but she neither moved nor spoke.
"Easy babe." Dante smiled. The 'babe's' left eye twitched visibly at the remark, but still she remained silent. "I'm looking for someone who can do something I can't."
"I'm looking for an exorcist."
AuthorsNote: This totally sucked, but so what? I was in a funk and needed to break my writer's block. This choppy mess was the result.
I decided to write a DantexOC fic because I wanted to break the mold and try something new. I'm going to try to make this DIFFERENT.
This takes place after Devil May Cry 1 but before Devil May Cry 4.
And I totally ripped off VirM.'s signature chapter heading. Ah well.
Anyway, review please.
Next chapter we learn about why Dante is looking for the "Aradia" person.
Also know that this fic is going to be mainly supernatural and not so much actiony. You've been warned.
DISCLAIMER: Devil May Cry most certainly does not belong to me. If it did, why in the hell would I be writing crappy fan fiction about it?