Chapter Text
The evening draped in a thick veil of twilight, muting the city into subdued hues. Red Grave, as always, was steeped in an atmosphere of gloom and gray. The wind chased scraps of newspaper down the streets, while the distant rumble of cars echoed somewhere far away.
The Devil May Cry agency was drowning in shadows. The last rays of sunset filtered through cracked blinds, illuminating dust motes swirling lazily in the air. Empty whiskey bottles littered the floor - some long dried out, some still clinging to a few last drops on the bottom. The cluttered desk was home to an assortment of items: silver bullets, dog-eared magazines, half-empty pizza box, and who-knows-what else. In the corner, an old jukebox hummed, playing some old-school rock. The sound was scratchy, the record skipping here and there.
The front door flew open with a resounding crash, revealing a tall man in a rumpled suit and a weathered hat. “Still working at a loss, I see,” he rasped with a dry chuckle, gesturing toward the pizza box. “Maybe you’ll actually pay the bills this time instead of ordering takeouts?” He slammed the door shut and tossed an envelope onto the desk, where several photographs immediately spilled out.
“Oh, come on, Morrison, I-” Dante trailed off as he glanced at the photos and froze. The pictures showed men of different ages. All dead. All empty.
“These guys were found... like this. Not a drop of blood left. And always near diners.” Morrison - his old friend, who always brings job requests, lit a cigarette, exhaling a ring of smoke. “The police are stumped. No traces, no witnesses.”
Dante frowned, his usual smirk was gone. “Seen this kind of ‘neat’ work before. Usually means they’re the real dangerous type.” His voice dropped low, his tone suddenly serious. He hated gigs like this. Killing a demon that tore through flesh? Easy. But hunting a shadow that left nothing behind? That reeked of real work.
“Fine,” Dante sighed, brushing away the smoke with annoyance. “But if this turns out to be another third-rate bloodsucker, I’m charging you double.” He lazily got up from his chair, gripping his favorite guns Ebony & Ivory.
For several nights Dante had been making his rounds through the city’s diners, moving from one place to another like a shadow. Now, as he pushed through the creaking door of “Crossroads” - his fifth stop that evening - he was beginning to think this lead was colder than the night air. A typical bar - no glamour, no particular charm, not clean, but not dirty. Behind the counter, a standard lineup of bottles, a beer fridge, and a tired bartender who definitely wanted to sleep. This was where Dante had to hunt his prey, among life-worn office workers and booze-and-blues students.
He settled at the edge of the bar counter, he ordered a glass of whiskey - just a disguise, a real hunter never let his guard down. It was a professional nightmare - no evidence, no leads, only goddamn emptiness and nothing more. His gaze snagged on the corner table. A couple sat there, wrapped in their own little world. The guy was forgettable - average build, average face, the kind of man who blurred into the background. Only his stupid tie was practically doing charity work by making him slightly visible. But her...
Long, wavy fiery hair spilled over her shoulders, her gray-green eyes half-lidded in amusement as she curled a strand of hair around her finger. Scars marked her porcelain skin: two slashes beneath her eyes, a small nick above her left brow, another faint one bridging her nose. Not flaws. Decorations.
She wore a cropped black leather jacket, left open to reveal a violet tank top that dipped just low enough to show the red laced bra beneath. A velvet choker hugged her neck, an amethyst gemstone glinting at its center. Skinny leather pants completed the look, accentuated every curve.
The couple was flirting and laughing. The man leaned in with a silly smile, while her fingers traced the rim of her glass slowly, deliberately. Dante didn’t care about the show. He cared about the wrongness he felt looking at her. Not a demon. Not human. Something... different. He smirked and muttered to himself, “Gotcha.”
Dante watched as they rose from their seats and headed to the exit. He gave them a slight head start before following, moving leisurely like another drunk stepping out for air.
The street greeted him with a cold wind and the dim glow of streetlights. He saw a flicker of the girl’s silhouette disappearing around the corner. Dante trailed after them.
He spotted them in the dark alley - her lips peeled away from the guy’s neck as he slumped against the wall as if asleep, unnaturally long fangs flashed in the darkness, while she was standing over him.
“There you go, buddy,” she murmured, settling him against the wall with unnatural, almost motherly care. Dante’s suspicions turned out to be right. A vampire.
She brushed aside a stray lock of hair and turned to leave, but then she heard him.
“Well, well,” a slightly raspy voice rang out. “Even clean up after yourself. How cute.” Dante stood blocking the passage, arms crossed over his chest, his muscles coiled, ready to draw guns in an instant.
The girl froze. Not in fear, obviously not. Her palm met her forehead with a loud smack. “Oh, for hell’s sake...” she muttered under her breath.
He took a step closer, his voice was casual. “You’re a long way from Transylvania, Dracula.” His words hung in the air as he watched her carefully, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. His hand drifted to the grip of his gun, fingers curling with practiced ease.
She remained motionless, watching the hunter approaching her. “Dracula? Oh, please. Too cliché. You couldn’t come up with something more original?” She rolled her eyes, raising one eyebrow.
“Cliché? Baby, when you’re as old as me, you lean into the classics.” Dante smirked, his voice dripping with false charm. He jerked his chin toward the unconscious guy slumped against the wall. “I’m afraid your little dating spree ends here, sweetheart.” His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of danger.
Suddenly, she stepped toward him, invading his personal space. Actually... he didn’t expect that. She only smiled as her delicate fingers started to play with the button on his dark-blue shirt.
“Awww, our big bad hunter doesn’t want to play a good cop?” Her smile turned into a bold, smug grin.
But Dante was faster than a trigger pull. He grabbed her wrist and moved it away, his other hand immediately drawed Ivory and pressed the barrel to her cheek. He tightened his grip on her, his calloused fingers digging into her soft skin as he leaned closer.
“Oh, I’ll play, doll. But believe me, you won’t like the kind of games I’m into.” There was amusement in his voice mixed with threat.
Her eyes flashed with danger, though she kept smiling. “Sounds tempting.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he held her wrist tightly. Ivory trailed down the side of her face. He tilted her chin up with the barrel of the gun, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I didn’t come here to play, little thing. I’m here to take you down. So be a good girl and give me one good reason why I shouldn’t splatter your pretty face all over these bricks.”
She only laughed at his words and was about to say something, but they both turned their heads to the unconscious guy on the ground. He was coming around, his eyelids fluttering. He was alive. A wide smile appeared on her face as she looked at Dante. “Seems like our friend is waking up. Wanna make him watch a bloody scene?”
“Oh, damn...” Dante thought she was the killer he was hunting, but it seemed she had drunk just enough blood to leave him alive, merely unconscious for a while. Truth be told, he was surprised - though it was hard to impress an experienced hunter like him. He cursed under his breath, caught off guard by this rare show of restraint from a supernatural creature, especially a vampire.
He glanced at the corner of the alley, where he could lead her for a fight or a talk without an audience. Dante pulled her by the hand, guiding her roughly, his other hand still pressed the gun to her.
As soon as they were out of sight, he released her wrist and aimed both Ebony & Ivory at her with a newfound intensity.
“Alright, let’s cut the crap. What was that?” Now he was much more serious. His gaze drifted over her face, taking in the stubborn glint in her eyes. “And don’t think for a second that I won’t put a bullet between your eyes if you don’t start talking.”
She didn’t pay attention to his guns, only shook her wrist. “Ouch... Damn, no one taught you how to treat a woman?” she hissed, finally looking at him. “Okay, okay. I’m a vampire, yes, but I don’t kill my prey. I drink just a few sips, then put them in safe places and leave. Why? I don’t need unnecessary attention, especially from hunters like you.” She paused for a second, then continued, “Let me guess, you’re hunting that monster who’s been killing men recently? Congratulations, I’m looking for that idiot too. It’s not cool to kill humans and cause problems to the rest of us - vampires who aren’t murderers, who just try to survive without victims.” She brushed off a strand of her red hair and continued. “So... seems like we’re on the same side, though I’m not too happy about it.”
Dante lowered his guns slightly, surprised by her words. He hadn’t expected to find an ally, especially not a vampire. He holstered Ebony & Ivory but kept his hands resting on the grips, ready to draw them at a moment’s notice if needed. He studied her face, noting the sincerity in her eyes. She seemed genuine in her wish to avoid unnecessary killing. It was a refreshing change from the rampant slaughter he usually associated with creatures of the night.
“Huh. An ethical predator. Now I’ve seen everything,” he muttered, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Of course, it didn’t mean he trusted her immediately. But the facts spoke for themselves. She hadn’t tried to run or attack him. The guy she’d fed from was alive. So, it really seemed she wasn’t the monster he was looking for.
“Alright, I suppose we’re on the same side. Temporarily. And yeah, I’m not excited either,” Dante said, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Well, Redhead,” Dante asked, “what’s the name of my future punchline victim?”
She stood three steps away, the dim streetlight casting her in an eerie glow that made her hair look like liquid fire and deepened the scars on her face. She didn’t move, only her left eyebrow twitched upward slightly. “Call me whatever you want,” she tossed back, though her eyes flickered with a microscopic hint of irritation.
Dante slowly, with exaggerated theatricality, brought a gloved hand to his chin, the leather creaking softly. “‘The-girl-I-haven’t-shot-yet’?”
The corner of her mouth jerked once. She suppressed the smile so fast a normal person would’ve missed it. But Dante didn’t. She compensated by sharply planting her hands on her hips.
“Fine. Circe.” Her voice was even, but something lurked beneath - maybe exhaustion, maybe annoyance.
His smirk widened just enough to be noticeable. “Oh, like that one-”
She cut him off with nothing more than a raised index finger. Not threatening, more like a teacher scolding a misbehaving student. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence!”
His eyes flashed with triumph as he laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Was just gonna say ‘like that beautiful lady.’”
“Liar,” she shook her head, long wavy hair sliding over her shoulders.
“But so charming.” He winked. “Like that one wicked witch from myths indeed,” he thought to himself.
Right then, the streetlight above them flickered, plunging them into momentary darkness. When the light returned, her expression had shifted, becoming more serious.
“Okay, we’re not here to exchange names. We have a monster to hunt. And about that monster...” Circe paused and looked to the side. She crossed her arms over her chest as she continued, “Obviously, it’s a vampire. All victims were drained without any injuries. I’m certain it’s my kindred.”
He wanted to say something sarcastic, because he already knew it, but he noticed something in her eyes. He saw... bitterness?
She continued, “I think it’s a woman. Definitely some hot stuff to pick up guys easily.” She shrugged, trying to erase the look he’d seen just a moment ago.
“Huh, I knew it,” Dante said casually, though he stroked his chin thoughtfully, the faint scratch of his stubble filling the silence between them. He recalled the grisly crime scene photos Morrison had shown him. The sight of the lifeless, pale bodies forever frozen in a moment of terror.
He turned his gaze back to Circe, his blue eyes glinting with sudden respect. After all, they were both hunting the same predator, though for different reasons. “Alright, partner. Partner until we catch this bloodsucker, that is,” he said with a crooked smile.
She put her hand to her forehead and sighed. “Ugh... Working with a hunter... That’s a new low for me. But I guess I have no choice.” She regained her usual confident composure. “Okay, listen up, big guy. I know where this vampire is and how to catch her. If you ask me how... Well, let’s just say I got a tip from the grapevine.” Circe’s gaze drifted away momentarily, like she was lost in thought.
Dante narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping low and dangerous, like steel grinding against stone. His fingers instinctively tightened around Ivory’s grip again, the familiar chill of metal against his skin.
“Hold up, Redhead,” he drawled, deliberately slow, giving her time to grasp the weight of his suspicion. His fingers flexed around the gun’s grip. “We’re not going anywhere until you explain how you know where this chick is.”
“Too convenient... Way too convenient,” the thought flashed through his mind.
Circe cut him off with a flick of her wrist. Her long nails glinted in the dim streetlight. “God,” her voice dripped with annoyance, something sharp flashing in her eyes. “You think I’m leading you into the trap?”
She took a step closer, the floral scent of her perfume wrapping around him. Her lips curled into a smirk, revealing the faintest hint of fangs. “Even if I were,” she spread her hands, as if presenting the absurdity of the situation, “You know damn well you could handle a horde of monsters. And hey, you can just shoot me if I lied. So what’s your problem anyway?”
Dante froze. There was truth in her words. His grip on the gun loosened, just slightly. He watched the rise and fall of her chest - not fear, but irritation. “Fine,” he exhaled sharply. “But if there’s even one surprise waiting...”
Circe was already turning toward the alley’s exit, her fiery hair whipping through the air like tongues of flame. She didn’t look back, just tossed over her shoulder: “Yeah, yeah, I know,” her voice was almost weary, but layered, like she was reciting a well-worn line. “‘Bullet to the head, no warning.’ No need to repeat yourself, hunter. I got the memo.”
Dante watched her go, noting how the shadows swallowed her form. Only her red hair still burned in the darkness, like the last embers of a dying fire.
He sighed but followed her anyway, his long red coat swaying with each deliberate step. The twilight consumed them whole as they moved through back alleys and side streets, the distant hum of traffic fading behind them. “So,” he finally broke the silence, “Where’s this bloodsucker’s favorite takeout spot?”
“One small café, next to the city park,” Circe answered without missing a beat. “They have a decent coffee and surprisingly good bakery.” She threw him a sideways glance. “Not that you’d care about that part.”
“Cute. Now tell me how the hell you know she’s there.” His tone was deceptively light, but his eyes never left her profile.
She flashed him a razor-thin smile. “What, you want me to reveal my secrets to the hunter? Do the math. Bodies were found nearby diners - it’s a perfect spot for a vampire to find its prey. And how do I know the exact place...? That’s none of your business.”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t buy it, not for a second. “And let me guess, you just happened to be too busy to check it out yourself?”
Circe’s steps faltered. When she spoke again, the usual wit and sarcasm in her voice were gone. “I don’t... I won’t enjoy what we gonna do when we find her. The screaming. The fighting. The violence.” She made a bitter chuckle. “Funny, for a vampire, right? But no, I didn’t want to go there. Not alone, at least.”
Dante studied her face - the way the flickering streetlights made her gray-green eyes gold, the way her lips tensed. His hand rested casually near his belt, not quite reaching for a gun, but not quite at ease either. “Well,” he said, adjusting his gloves with a sharp snap of leather, “Lucky for you, I’m more than glad to ruin her appetite.”
The warm glow of the café appeared ahead, its cheery awning looking absurdly out of place in their grim context. Somewhere inside that perfectly ordinary place with its good coffee, their quarry waited. And Dante? He was more than ready to crash this little tea party.
“Look...” She stood next to the café’s front door. “Since she’s hunting men, you’ll be the bait.”
Dante made a loud, rumbling chuckle as she suggested it. “Me? Bait? You must be out of your pretty little mind, Circe.” He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not exactly the helpless man type she prefers.”
Despite his skepticism, he knew she had a point. He could certainly play the victim, if it meant catching the monster and protecting innocents. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, his decision made. “Alright, I’ll play bait. But if anything-”
She rolled her eyes and interrupted him. “I know, I know, enough already.” Circe looked at Dante and stopped him as he moved to enter the café. “By the way...” She came closer and looked at him. He wore his iconic red leather coat, dark leather pants, leather gloves, and a dark-blue shirt. She continued, “You with your... ahem... attire will definitely draw attention. Way too much. And that’s good for us.”
Dante looked down at his outfit, then back up at Circe with a smirk. “You mean this old thing? I thought it was peak fashion for grungy middle-aged hunters. Don’t tell me you’re just jealous of my rugged charm and exquisite taste.” He teased, his tone dripping with false arrogance. Despite his playful response, Dante couldn’t deny that his signature garb would indeed make him stand out in a sea of ordinary men.
Dante let out a low chuckle as he saw her expression. Her lips pursed slightly as her eyebrows shot upward, forming two perfectly arched curves of disbelief. Her entire face froze in a silent question - “Are you serious?” - as if words were unnecessary to convey that potent mix of sarcasm and utter bewilderment.
“Careful, sweetheart. Keep looking at me like that, and I might just start to think you actually like my style. Or worse - find me irresistible.” He winked and spun away.
“Pfff, in your dreams.” She rolled her eyes, then grabbed his forearm. “Wait. You can’t just go like... this.” With sudden care, she wiped the dust off his leather coat. As she finished, she sighed. “Okay. Let’s go. Good luck to us. You go first, I’ll follow you. Don’t want to make her think you’re not alone.”
The bell above the café door jingled as Dante stepped inside, the aroma of coffee and fresh bakery wrapping around him like a warm embrace. He chose a corner table next to the exit with a clear view to the entire diner. The place was half-full - students with fancy drinks and a few blue-collar workers resting after a hard day.
A minute later, Circe entered, her leather jacket creaking softly as she slid into a booth near the window. She didn’t glance his way, instead ordering an extra-sweet chocolate milkshake. It made Dante’s teeth ache just hearing it.
Then he felt it. A gaze lingering too long.
Across the room, a blonde girl with a ponytail perched on the edge of her seat, her fingers curled around a teacup. She looked away the instant their eyes met, but not before Dante caught the flush creeping up her face. Cute. Dimpled cheeks, an oversized pale green tee swallowing her frame, scuffed sneakers tapping nervously under the table. The kind of girl who’d faint if you said “damn” too loud.
But the air around her prickled with the same unnatural dark energy he’d sensed from Circe.
Dante stirred his coffee. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
A few minutes later, the girl approached, avoiding eye contact with embarrassment. “Um...” Her voice was honeyed, nervous. “Is this seat taken?”
With a shrug, Dante nodded toward the empty chair opposite him. “All yours, sunshine.”