Ha! I iz back and sporting what my sister has dubbed the Vergil Bush (use your imagination, but keep your mind out of the gutter). I assure you that it’s not by choice, but just something my hair starting doing on its own after I got a haircut.

Okay… enough of my hair issues… on with the story that I almost let die!

Chapter 2: Heart of the Problem

“Please sir,” a woman with blonde hair and brown roots pleaded from across the massive cherry finished desk, “You have to find her.” She clutched a small photograph until the muscles in her hands twitched from the tension. Her body went rigid before her chest loosened with a heave and the subsequent sobs. A pair of scrawny arms held the woman from behind in an attempt to quell her wailing cries.

Dante peered over the manila folder that neatly filed away the life of the child in question. He cocked a curious eyebrow at the woman’s overly dramatic sniffles. The look on his face clearly told that he was completely uncomfortable with the situation. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he gave a small, exasperated sigh and said, “Look, I’m sorry, but there’s no way that I can take your case. Our agency doesn’t deal in this type of work.”

“But you don’t understand,” the voice came from the man who belonged to skinny arms, “we can’t take this elsewhere.”

He came off a little more forceful than intended, but it got Dante’s attention. The man had been completely quiet during the consultation, until now. Even with inflection that he gave, Dante was hardly threatened by him. The fair-haired hunter estimated the balding, ginger haired man before him to stand at about six feet tall and an unassuming one hundred-seventy pounds. No, the man couldn’t take Dante, even if he tried.

But his eyes, sparkling emeralds burned with a passion that only a father could have for a child that hung in the balance. He knew the feeling, since he became one nearly two years ago. He would do almost anything in the world for his daughter. He truly understood how the man felt and he definitely felt worse for turning him away.

Dante had seen these types of cases before. A child goes missing, the family appears on the nightly news, detectives lose the lead and case goes cold. It was a sad cycle, but the reality was that hundreds of thousands of children went missing each year. Dante knew that if he stopped to look for each lost child that came across his desk, there would be no way he could control the demon population as well.

Dante’s eyes dropped back to the file. It was complete with photos and detailed descriptions of the girl who had just celebrated her sixth birthday. It was compiled by detectives, hired both privately and by the metropolitan police department in desperate hopes of finally solving this one. He then grimly thought about how the girl’s entire six years of life fit squarely on two sheets of paper and a few pictures. It’s a crying shame, but this file may just be among the only mementos they’ll ever have of their child.

The woman let out another loud sob that brought him out of his reverie. Dante promptly handed her the last of his Kleenexes and turned back to the man.

“I’m really sorry,” he offered once again.

“I heard that you handled the really strange cases,” the man said quietly, ignoring Dante’s no’s, “the ones that not even the police will touch.”

“Where did you hear that,” the question came from Dante in a calm and calculating tone. He eyed the man until his sapphire orbs met with the other’s gleaming emeralds.

“I don’t know, but the man said to keep talking and you’ll hit the jackpot sooner or later.”

Damn that Enzo. There was almost nothing he could do now to push them away; they just gave him the password. But something still didn’t add up. Why would Enzo give the password to a simple missing person’s case?

“There’s something important that you’ve kept from the police,” Dante sensed.

“My daughter is not a victim to a simple kidnapping, she was taken by demons.”

Dante straightened in his chair and leaned closer, wanting to hear more.

“They came in the middle of the night, wailing like banshees and wielding scythes and pairs of great scissors. Their faces looked as if they were masks wrought with agony. Before we had known what had happened, dozens more appeared out of nowhere and scooped up our little girl. We never told because no one would believe. I mean... we scarcely believe it ourselves.”

Dante had deduced that the first two lesser demons the man spoke about were Sin Scythes and Sin Scissors, but he still needed to know more. Dante then found a calm voice amidst his rapidly swirling thoughts. In a strange soothing fashion he coaxed more answers out of the grief-stricken couple, “What else did you see?”

As the couple alternately described the horrible creatures that invaded their home, Dante’s mind went to work at construe their names.

“Well,” the woman pushed back her sobs and spoke up, “One of them let out a mighty bellow as it appeared in a blood red light. It was covered in fur with sharp claws on its hands and feet. Come to think about it, it was more like an animal standing on its hind quarters.”

Blood Goat.

The balding man then said, “One looked like a skeleton with glowing red eyes dressed in a black cloak. It was all in tatters. It carried a staff, if I remember correctly. When I went to grab our little Sarah, it let out an ear-splitting roar... it felt like I was being hit by a wall of wind and sand.”

Gluttony.

The three went on and spoke more about the circumstances of the girl’s disappearance as Dante mentally took note of the plethora of demons they seemed to describe. Small fry, the lot of them. The problem was who would go through the trouble of summoning them; all for capturing a little girl?

He kept it in the back of his mind as the conversation continued. The conversation concluded with a firm handshake from Dante and Trish pulling them aside to discuss payment options. A dirty practice to some, especially to an emotionally distraught family, but very necessary. Devil May Cry had to find some way to keep that large, pink neon sign on, outside.

Dante took his leave of the couple, leaving the business aspects to Trish. He bounded towards the metal grated stairs and the upper living quarters. As he neared the top of the stairs, the pitter-patter of little feet echoed down the hallway and a small body sprung up against the white crisscrossed gates meant to keep curious toddlers at bay. Dante stepped over the three and quarter foot tall security fence. A pair of ice blue eyes, much like his own, gazed up at him as she let out some high pitched grunts, “Unh, unh.”

Without any words, he knew what she wanted. Up. She wanted to be picked up. Lately, Trish had been gorging herself on information about the development of toddlers. She even felt the need to share with Dante that his daughter should be speaking already. The sharp words came, to which his response was, “She’ll talk when she’s good and ready… and no more internet for you.”

He scooped up his daughter as he playfully growled, “Here comes the baby monster. Mmmm. Nom, nom, nom, nom!”

She giggled and squealed in delight as her father pretended to eat her and blew raspberries on her belly. He carried her off to her room where he started a DVD of Elmo’s World. He sat her down on the floor in front of the TV where she began humming in rhythm of the opening theme song. Dante counted on a stealthy exit just as the toddler became enamored by the singing red furball… Or so he thought.

Just as he stood, he noticed the iron grip of the tiny hands that held him in place. He had to admit that for a baby, his daughter was strong… very strong.

“She’s going give trouble to whoever crosses her,” he mused aloud. Not to mention that she would be hell to spar with once she gets older.

Dante sat back down, obeying the toddler’s will. Before he knew it she was in his lap, playing his platinum hair. At least she has graduated from trying to eat my hair, he thought to himself.

She continued to watch the screen, quiet and no longer scrutinizing Dante’s ivory hair. After a few more episodes on the DVD, she had already drifted off into the dream world. As if on cue, Lady stepped into the doorway to witness the precious scene unfold before her.

“Help. Please?” Dante whispered, sensing her presence. He dared not to move a muscle as he held his daughter. She was a light sleeper, she inherited that and her raven colored hair from her mother. Dante on the other hand, slept like a rock. Not even the mightiest storms could rouse him, if he didn’t want to be.

“Oh, no, buddy… you’re on your own with that,” she half whispered and half chuckled.

Dante let out a sigh in mock defeat. “I take it that you took the job,” Lady continued whispering.

“Yeah. I’ll have to leave in the morning,” Dante sounded unenthused. As soon as the word left his mouth, the toddler let out a small whine and snuggled closer Dante’s chest.

“So soon?”

“The sooner, the better. The last detective on the case tracked a lead to Maryland. I think that Enzo would agree that I should begin there.”

“You sure you want to do this?”

“Of course. I saw the look in her father’s eyes. They told me that he would be willing to do anything in his power to get his daughter back, just like I’d anything for Virginia here. But I did see fear in his eyes and I couldn’t tell why.”

“Well, most people would be on edge if they were attacked by demons as they say they were.”

“Yeah, but still… some things about this don’t add up. Why a little girl from New York and nowhere else? Her parents aren’t famous and they most certainly aren’t rich. If they had money, she could afford a better dye job. They don’t even seem to be the type to dabble in the Dark Arts.”

“Well, not everyone is my father,” Lady half-joked, almost sardonically. She had made her peace with it long ago, but Dante could still see that it was a sore spot.

He continued, “I can’t help but to feel like this is going to turn into a wild goose chase or …”

“… A trap,” Lady finished Dante’s ramblings.

“We will see, won’t we,” gave a joyless grin as he gingerly picked up Virginia and placed her in her crib.

----

Dante stretched and yawned, trying to find the will to peel himself off of the shabby-looking motel bed he laid on. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing to lie on and he shuddered to think about what lurid acts may have been committed on its very mattresses; but it was somewhere to lay his weary head. On the plus side, he got free HBO, all for a cool thirty bucks a night. It was the best part about living out of ‘No-tell’ motels when his job put him on the road.

The platinum haired slayer scratched at his five o’ clock shadow that seemed to be at a quarter to six. He tiredly staggered into the bathroom to start yet another day of searching for a kid from the East Village.

----

By that afternoon, Joe found himself at his part-time job at a local video store. They hardly ever see customers anymore, not since a video chain opened in nearby Waldorf. Joe enjoyed the slow shift. There was less work to do and the owner had left to pick up his sick kid from school.

The clock on the wall ticked closer to quitting time, which meant that he was that much closer to meeting up with the guys at the bar. Sure they weren’t exactly any friends of his, but he felt at home there. It was much better than that hovel he dared to call an apartment.

He glanced up at the clock, growing more excited that there was only three more hours until he would rid himself of his ‘back busting work’. He pulled out a comic book and slumped into a comfortable position. Just as he getting into a particular action scene, the front door swung open and chime sounded, letting Joe know that he had a customer; only the third in the entire day.

He looked up to greet whoever made him lose his place, but saw no one. He figured that the damned door alarm was broken and continued eyeing the pages for the panel he left off at. After a few moments more, he was once again steeped in his comic world. As his generic superhero pounded the ‘bad guys’ across the pages, the more he forgot about the previous night.

Well, not exactly forget... More like repress. Joe believed that if he kept his mind busy, he could push away the images of the man that kidnapped him. Sure, he thought about going to the police, but who would believe that a crazed creature of the night was after him. Then there was the fact that he lived in a small town. So small in fact, that there was hardly any privacy.

And why was he so concerned with it? As much of a ‘scardy-cat’ that Joe was; he was no fool. He knew that once someone did something, someone else would mention it in polite conversation. Then it would be on the lips of someone else and before long it will become a rumor; spreading like disease or wildfire. As always with the rumors, the people will form their own opinions and then the labels. And Joe hated the labels.

He knew of all people, he couldn’t handle the finger pointing and whispers. It would be enough for him to move out of the town that he called home for almost twenty-four years.

Places like here, had their own set of laws and the nosy neighbors were the enforcers, not the sheriffs. The small town rule preyed on a person’s sense of shame. The shame here was not an internal motivator, but rather external. It was the only reason that kept the residents from robbing the local bank or knocking over a convince store. They didn’t fear the threat of jail time, but rather, what their neighbors thought of them. And isn’t that the universal edict of a small town: To be a good neighbor? Screw all of that talk of Big Brother watching, nothing’s scarier than Grandma’s small town eyes.

By Joe’s set of rationales, the police weren’t an option. Going to them would probably single him out and open him up to ridicule and a chance of being snatched the people on the hill. He thought if he just ignored the problem, it would go away. But he didn’t know just how wrong he’d be.

Joe paused at another panel when he heard the unmistakable thump of a video cassette hitting the glass display case he sat behind.

“Got any popcorn,” the voice of the would-be customer asked the man behind the comic book.

Joe glanced at the tape and wondered briefly, who watches VHS anymore? He instead replied, “Nope. Might’n wanna try the Piggly-Wiggly, the Walmart across the highway or the video place in Waldorf.”

The customer didn’t respond; gave no indication whether he was offended or otherwise. “So just the movie then,” Joe questioned as he moved to ring up the item.

Joe kept his eyes on the display case and the movie as he tossed the comic aside. Pappy always told him that it was best to keep his head low. They'll stick to their own parts and leave alone to mine.

Just inside of his periphery, Joe noticed a slight flutter of red. Fear overcame his body as his chestnut eyes slowly rose to capture the looming figure dressed in red.

No! No, it can’t be, he thought as he caught sight of that devilish grin that rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat.

“What? Did you think that I wouldn’t keep an eye out for you,” Dante said.

With those words, Joe’s body began to react without keeping his brain in the loop. He first began to babble incoherently, before he legs became nothing more than rubber. His brain shutdown and he became nothing more than dead weight lying on the floor.

Dante eyed the limp figure and sighed, “Just my luck… The only person with an idea where Sarah went is this dumbass on the floor.” Dante shook his head at his lack of survival instinct. Joe’s Fight or Flight reaction was set to ‘pass out.’

He rounded the display case and schlepped the chubby man over his shoulder and picked up the black and white copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula that lay near the discarded comic book. Dante tossed Joe into the front seat of his rent-a-car and buckled him in.

“Kid… the things you know had better be worth it,” sneered and he closed the car door.

Dante hopped into the driver seat and drove off towards the hill.

Let’s call that first chapter part of my occasional lapses in sanity. Thank you for putting up with me. Did you like it? Or would you rather I burned it?