Wicked Bartender PG-13 Version

by KuroKoneko Kamen

  Chapter 9: Manhattan

  Another day at Dullahan’s Irish Pub had begun. Dante was already standing behind the bar and polishing glasses with a dishrag. Joan was helping Hilda to wipe down tables in preparation for the customers that had yet to arrive. Fred could be heard prepping ingredients in the kitchen. The pub was calm and peaceful.

  Who would have thought that just mere hours ago, Alan had been attacked by Ivan, Franky, and Jenny. He’d been unable to do anything as the trio jumped him outside of a convenience store and proceeded to beat the crapolla out of him. Alan thought they were going to kill him then and there. Their blows had hurt so much. Franky had kicked him in the stomach multiple times. His body was black and blue beneath Alan’s stylish EMO suit. His ribs were bruised, he had a split lip and he was sporting a black eye from getting punched in the face.

  Alan shuddered as he thought back to what had happened. He’d just frozen up and had been unable to do anything to defend himself. It was pathetic. He was a man, but…he’d always been a bit of a coward. Well, ‘coward’ wasn’t really the right word. Alan thought to himself. It wasn’t like he wouldn’t try and protect a friend, but he was just too weak. He’d always been extremely timid and shy. He was a very non-confrontational person. He preferred to settle disagreements with words not blows. One may have even considered him a pacifist.

  In high school and in college, Alan had fallen into the category of ‘nerd’. He’d spent most of his time in the computer lab. He was good with numbers, and had been in charge of the books for his older brother at Dullahan’s. He’d even done their taxes. Apparently, he wasn’t that good with numbers though since he’d never realized Franky, Jenny and maybe even Ivan had been stealing from him. Alan let out a defeated sigh at the thought.

  After graduating from college, Alan had wanted to reinvent himself. He decided to start with his outwardly appearance. He’d gotten a bunch of fashion magazines and done a lot of research on different styles while trying to decide which style he could actually pull off. He didn’t have the muscles to pull off a ‘gym rat’ or ‘tough guy’ look, so those looks were automatically out. He didn’t have the money to dress in Armani and so the ‘rich heir’ look had also been out. The ‘surfer boy’ look might have fit him with his blonde hair, but he didn’t live in California. The ‘punk’ or ‘skater’ look could have worked, but Alan had tried skateboarding and couldn’t even manage to get the board off the ground.

  That’s when he’d found a look that was a spin-off look from the ‘Goth’ look. It was called the ‘EMO’ look. Alan had instantly become interested in the look that blended steam punk fashions, Goth looks and preppy styles to create a style all its own. It was fun, funky, and there was a lot of room for error. Random was good. Alan had always known that beneath his thick-rimmed glasses, and shaggy, unkempt blonde hair that he was not an unattractive guy. He’d gotten a stylish, new haircut, purchased some contact lenses, and bought some new EMO clothes - steam punk suits, stripped shirts and sweaters, tight jeans, fedoras, suspenders, and lots of colorful ties.

  The day he’d shown up to work at Dullahan’s wearing his new clothes and sporting his new look, his brother George had gawked in surprise at him. What disappointed Alan the most was that his brother had appeared to be slightly angry about Alan’s new, confident, handsome appearance. This had been around the time that the pub was being run by George.

  Alan was tall, lithe, and fair with golden hair, and blue eyes. On the other hand, George was tall, thick-boned, and slightly overweight. He was dark with dark-brown hair, brown eyes, and stubble on his round chin. Alan had gotten their mother’s good looks while George had taken after their rugged father. George had obviously been jealous and had given Alan a hell of a lot more work to do than usual that particular day.

  Alan shook his head of such depressing memories. Even though his brother hadn’t treated him very nicely it wasn’t good to think ill of the dead. It was still pretty early in the day, twelve o five to be exact, but Alan needed a drink. He made his way over to the bar, took a seat on one of the tall barstools and looked up at Dante. “Make me a Manhattan, please, Dante.”

  Dante arched an eyebrow at his young boss. It was a little early to be drinking but…just a few hours ago Alan had been strapped to a chair by his kidnappers, and the bruises were still fresh on Alan’s face. Dante could understand this human’s need for a drink. “Right away, Boss.” Dante agreed and began to prepare the Manhattan. He grabbed a chilled martini glass for the drink and set it down upon the bar. After that he grabbed a bottle of rye whiskey, a bottle of sweet vermouth and a tiny bottle of Angostura Bitters.

  Dante grabbed a tin, rolled it up his arm and caught it with his other hand before setting it down on the bar. He poured two ounces of American Rye Whiskey into his shaker tin, one ounce of sweet vermouth along with a dash of Angostura Bitters. He stirred the mixture for thirty seconds and then strained the mixture into the chilled martini glass. Dante tossed a Maraschino cherry into the air and caught it with the martini glass.

  Alan watched Dante’s graceful movements as he prepared the drink, mesmerized. Watching Dante prepare a drink was a sight to behold. In just a few minutes, Dante was setting the Manhattan down in front of Alan. “Enjoy.”

  Alan lifted the glass with trembling fingers and took a tentative sip. The alcohol burned pleasantly as it slid down his throat and pooled in his stomach, leaving a nice, warm, tingling feeling where there had only been emptiness before. The drink itself was slightly sweet and Alan figured it was probably considered a ‘girlie drink’, but at the moment Alan didn’t really care. He set the glass down and wrapped his trembling fingers around the martini glass stem.

  Alan wondered where Ivan, Franky and Jenny were at that exact moment. After they were released from the hospital they were probably going straight to jail for his kidnapping and attempted murder. That made his lips twitch. He had nothing to fear from them anymore but…he hated feeling so freakin weak. He let out another sigh, which was probably his fifth one since he’d woken up that day.

  Dante noticed his Boss’ unease and frowned. “Is something the matter, Boss?”

  Alan shook his head while his lips thinned into a grim line.

  “Is there someone you would like me to…beat up?” Dante offered, substituting his usual choice of the word ‘kill’ with ‘beat up’. That was pretty non-violent, right? Dante smiled to himself. He was getting the hang of this whole being human thing.

  Alan looked up and gave Dante a surprised look. In a way he’d hit the nail on the head. “That’s just it, Dante. You shouldn’t have to ‘beat up’ anyone for me. I’m a man, darn it! I should be able to protect myself, handle my own crap, but…I’m weak.” He let out another defeated sigh before putting his head in his hands. “Maybe I should take a self-defense class. I can’t go on living like this…depending on other people.”

  “Self-defense class? You mean to learn the…art of combat?” Dante ran his tongue over his teeth. If there was a subject that Dante enjoyed talking about it was combat and the art of war. He was a demon commander after all.

  Alan nodded.

  Dante looked thoughtful for a moment. “Boss, I happen to be quite skilled in…the art of combat.” In other words, I’m good at killing enemies. “If you’d like I could teach you how to…fight.” Again Dante was forced to substitute the word ‘kill’ for another word. This time with the word: ‘fight’.

  Alan blinked back at Dante in surprise. He’d witnessed Dante’s fighting skills firsthand on several different occasions now, but he’d been unconscious when Dante had supposedly arrived at the abandoned apartment building. Joan had told him that Dante had single-handedly beaten up Franky, Ivan and Jenny. Even though they’d been armed to the teeth with guns. Dante had even been shot too - multiple times.

  But here Dante was, standing behind the bar, and looking no worse for wear. That probably wasn’t normal but…Alan found that he didn’t really care. He knew
that Dante had his secrets but they were none of his business. He decided to push such thoughts to the back of his mind because he trusted Dante. End of story. “You’d be willing to teach a weak, timid guy like me?”

  “A man who recognizes his own weaknesses is not weak. I would be honored to teach you how to fight and defend yourself, Boss.” Dante insisted and actually looked pretty excited by the prospect.

  Alan’s trembling ceased and his jaw dropped as he stared back at Dante in awe. Dante would be ‘honored’ to teach him how to fight? Dante didn’t think he was weak? A watery smiled formed on Alan’s face. If only his older brother George had been more like Dante. “Wow, thanks, man. I owe you one. Um…how about tonight after work? We could probably use the basement.”

  A shiver of unease traveled down Alan’s spine as the words left his mouth. The basement had always been a place that was off limits to Alan. Even when his parents died and George had taken over the pub Alan still hadn’t been allowed down there. And the one time his brother George had caught him down there, his brother had beaten the crap out of him and even broken his wrist. He shuddered at the memory. But George was no longer alive and nothing was really stopping Alan from going down into the basement anymore.

  Dante nodded in agreement. “Very well.” He hadn’t known the establishment had a basement and things like that didn’t often elude him. Odd. “As you wish Ma- Boss.” Dante frowned. Why did he insist on almost calling Alan his ‘Master’. Quite odd.

  At that moment, the door to Dullahan’s opened and the bell jingled as Kim walked inside. She had a worried expression on her pretty heart-shaped face, but it brightened as soon as she caught sight of Joan. “Joan!” Kim smiled and waved at her friend.

  Joan looked up from the table she was wiping down, and spotted her best friend. “Kim!”

  Alan watched as Kim made her way over to Joan, and gave her friend a hug as she asked how she was doing. Kimberley Eden. She was Joan’s supermodel friend. Kim was tall, thin, with full breasts, and long, wavy, golden-blonde hair that cascaded down her back to her waist. She was wearing a mid-drift shirt that showed off her flat stomach and bellybutton ring (even though it was much too cold out to be wearing a shirt like that) and a long, flowing, flower print skirt. Alan let out a wistful sigh of longing as he watched her. With his eyes still on Kim, Alan reached out to grab his drink, but he was so distracted that he ended up knocking his drink over. Luckily, Dante reached out and grabbed the glass before it could topple over using his lightning reflexes.

  Alan turned to face Dante, and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. He reached out to grab the martini glass more carefully this time. “Whoops. Uh, thanks.” He took a deep gulp of the cocktail to try and calm his nerves. It wasn’t working. Alan shifted his gaze back to Kim. He sighed again.

  Dante raised an eyebrow at his Boss’ behavior. He was looking at Kim with interest…longing? Lust? Attraction? Dante worried two fingers over his chin in thought. He didn’t know that much about ‘humans’ and their mating rituals, but he suspected that Alan must desire Kim. He smiled slyly. “You...wish to mate with Kim?”

  Alan was just taking another sip of his drink when Dante spoke and so he ended up choking and spluttering on his drink at Dante’s words. “M-M-Mate!” He repeated in a low, stuttering voice. “Dante! Don’t say things like that! What if she hears you?”

  Dante tilted his head at Alan as his eyes shone with curiosity. “But what I said is true, right?”

  Alan frowned. “Okay…I’ll admit that I like her.” The pub owner huffed and threw his hands up into the air.

  Dante looked smug. “Indeed. Well, go…” The demon frowned, wondering what a human would do in such a situation. In Hell if a demon man had an interest in a she-demon he would simply go up to her and take her. If she didn’t want him they would fight, sometimes to the death, but if the man bested her - usually by that time he’d gained the she-demon’s respect and she’d give into his lust willingly.

  “And claim her.” Dante finished.

  “C-Claim?!” Alan paled as all the blood left his face. “I can’t just go over there and ask her out! She’ll say ‘no’.”

  Ask her out? Dante frowned, pondering the meaning of those words. “Then you must…convince her.”

  Alan rolled his eyes. “Duh. I wish…but a girl like that wouldn’t want a wimpy, timid guy like me. She probably wants someone rich, strong, powerful. Someone who could protect her, pamper her.”

  “I will train you to fight. Then you will have the strength to protect her.” Dante assured. “After that you should be able to convince her to be yours.”

  “She probably likes good-looking guys…pretty boys…” There was a sad, wistful tone to his voice that Dante didn’t understand.

  The demon raised an eyebrow at Alan, as he looked the young man over. “You are not an unattractive hu- er, man.”

  Alan looked up at Dante with haunted eyes. “Dante, truth is, I-”

  However, before Alan could explain why he was suddenly looking so hopeless and lost, Kim was approaching them with worry shinning in her gorgeous, amber eyes. “Alan! Joan told me what happened.” She exclaimed without preamble.

  Alan turned to face her and opened his mouth to speak, but Kim surprised him by suddenly hugging him. Alan’s eyes went wide and he froze in her embrace.

  Kim pulled back a moment later. “Are you alright? You have a black eye…” She reached up to touch Alan’s face and perhaps even brush the hair that covered half of his face to the side.

  Alan flinched back, and caught Kim’s hand by wrapping his hand around her wrist. “Don’t touch me.” He mumbled glumly and let go of her hand. “I’m fine. Dante saved us.”

  Kim lowered her hand and looked a little put out that Alan hadn’t allowed her to touch him. That had been uber weird. Most guys loved it when she touched them - made a line in fact. She pouted. Was she losing her touch? Naw. After all she’d managed to snag Gilebert for her new boyfriend/lover. Kim’s attention zipped to Dante then and she smiled broadly, revealing straight white teeth. “Thanks for saving my friends, Dante. I owe you one.”

  “Not at all.” Dante said. “Would you like something to drink? I’m sure it would be on the house. Right, Boss?”

  “Huh?” Alan was suddenly snapped out of his own dark thoughts. “Oh, yea, of course. Get whatever you’d like, Kim.”

  Kim beamed and tapped her chin in thought. “Then…I’d like a Cosmopolitan, please.” She said as she took a seat next to Alan on one of the barstools.

  “Right away.” Dante began to prepare her drink. He selected a martini glass and filled it with ice to chill it. He then grabbed a bottle of vodka, orange liqueur and cranberry juice. He picked up a shaker tin, and spun it on the palm of his hand before he set it on the bar. He flipped the vodka bottle and poured vodka into the shaker, added the orange liqueur and lastly added the cranberry juice.

  He cut a lime in two and squeezed the juice into the shaker before he just dropped the lime wedges into the shaker tin. Dante added some ice to the tin, put the lid on and began to shake the mixture. He dumped the ice out of the martini glass, and strained the mixture into the glass. Lastly, he garnished the drink with a curled orange peel. As he executed a few tricks with the bottles Kim started clapping and laughing in amusement.

  “Oh, he’s good. A bartender as intoxicating as a cocktail. Where did you manage to find him, Alan?” Kim asked Alan curiously. The bartender was handsome enough to do modeling work if he wanted. Kim thought to herself. I wonder if Dante would let me take him to my representing agency?

  “Oh, uh…he found me actually.” Alan recalled how Dante had just shown up asking about the bartender position. It had taken him less than a day to learn how to prepare all of the drinks on Dullahan’s drink menu.

  “I see. Joan mentioned that you needed another waitress. I can probably work part-time here. That is if you’d like me to.” Kim began to ramble nervously. “My modeling sc
hedule isn’t really ‘full time’. I have lots of spare time on my hands, actually. I get bored, you know.” Kim chewed on her lower lip as she awaited Alan’s response.

  Alan was looking at Kim wide-eyed. Kim wanted to work part-time there? He was speechless. That would be too good to be true. To get to gaze upon Kim’s beauty, even from afar everyday, would be awesome.

  “Uh…I’ll bring my resume of course, so you can look at it.” Kim took Alan’s silence to be hesitation in hiring her.

  Alan finally snapped out of his stupor just as Dante set Kim’s drink down before her. “Huh…oh, no.” He waved his hand through the air. “I’d love it if you worked here. I mean…of course you can work here part-time. Joan would love it.” He blushed slightly.

  Kim’s honey-colored eyes sparkled with happiness. “I see. That’s great! Should I start calling you ‘Boss’ like Dante and Joan do?”

  “I’d prefer it if you continued to call me Alan, actually.” Alan gave her a sheepish smile.

  She blushed prettily in response and seemed touched by the request. “Oh, okay. Sure thing, Alan.”

  Kim’s reactions to Alan weren’t…negative. In fact, if Dante didn’t know better he’d say that Kim was not indifferent to Alan or his good looks. “Kim are you…married?” Dante decided to ask, unsure how to phrase this particular question correctly. In Hell you would simply ask ‘Are you anyone’s mate?’.

  Kim’s blush deepened. “Married? No.” The supermodel laughed, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “But I just got myself a new boyfriend actually! And he’s like totally hot! His name is Gilebert, he’s French, and he works at Cornelia Street Café.” Kim began to gush about her new, sexy lover, who was also really good in the sack. The man had like wicked skills.

  Boyfriend. Dante frowned at the term. Was this the same as a ‘lover’? Dante noticed Alan’s crestfallen expression and decided that ‘boyfriend’ was synonymous to ‘lover’. Tough luck. Apparently, Kim was already ‘claimed’. Now…in Hell that would mean Alan needed to fight this Gilebert guy for her affections and kill him. Get him out of the way. Well, Dante knew Alan wouldn’t kill anyone but…perhaps he could convince Alan to beat the crap out of this guy and claim Kim for his own. He smirked at the fun idea. He really needed to help Alan stop being so timid. He made a mental note to tell Alan his opinion on this matter later.

  “Ah, he sounds…nice.” Alan forced out with a strained smile on his face.

  Dante shot Alan an interested look, curious about why Alan had just blatantly lied. Humans. He shook his head. Such nonsensical creatures.

  Speaking of which…Dante’s attention shifted to Joan. His lips tingled anytime he remembered the female’s stolen kiss. Did he want to make Joan his lover? Surely, not. One, Joan was a weak, human female. Two, she wasn’t Jeanne d’Arc, and even if she was…Jeanne had ultimately betrayed him. He may have loved her but…that ‘love’ had turned to ‘hate’ the moment she’d betrayed him. Or at least this is what he liked to tell himself.

  Dante would never forget the tears that had been in Jeanne’s green eyes as she sealed him to that tree. He didn’t think she’d been aware of her tears either. If only he could ask her why she’d betrayed him. But not only was she dead, she’d suffered a brutal death having been burned at the stake. He frowned. His blood boiled just thinking about not having been there to protect his Jeanne.

  Joan Simone. She was…interesting. Intriguing. But…he knew it would be wise to stay away from her.

  The workday at Dullahan’s Irish Pub continued uneventfully. Alan fetched Kim a dark green apron and gifted her with a new Dullahan’s t-shirt that he’d designed himself. The t-shirt featured the new drawing of the headless horsewoman that Alan had come up with on his own. The headless horsewoman was riding a black horse with glowing red eyes and was wearing a low-cut, emerald green, velvet gown. In her right hand she gripped the reins and in her other hand she cradled her severed head. The dullahan’s head had strawberry blonde hair that was almost pink, pale skin, and a smattering of freckles along the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were closed.

  Alan nearly had a heart attack when Kim gripped the bottom of her shirt before pulling it right over her head and tossing it aside to reveal her lacy, red bra. After that she’d put on the t-shirt with a sly smile. “Thanks, Alan. So, wow, did you really design this yourself? I love the new logo - a sexy, headless horsewoman! Way cool.”

  Joan nodded in agreement. “Girl power.”

  Alan was as red as a tomato. He felt faint. Dizzy. I think I need my inhaler. I can’t breathe. “N-No problem.”

  Kim worked part-time for the rest of the day, helped Joan with her waitressing duties, and helped to wait on tables. The day continued, and they had a small group of people for lunch. Things began to really pick up towards the end of the day until nine o’clock rolled around.

  The front door of Dullahan’s opened and the bell jingled. Alan watched as five men entered. The blood began to drain from Alan’s face as he got a better look at them. They were obviously gang members of some kind. The men were tall, intimidating, and muscular. Each man was wearing one item of clothing that was made out of camouflage print material.

  There was an African-American man, who was dressed in a pair of dark green, dark brown, gray and black camouflage pants, a gray t-shirt, and a baseball cap. When he smiled it revealed he had a couple of gold teeth.

  One of the thugs was dressed in dark blue, dark gray and black camouflage hoodie. His hood was up and shadowed the features of his face in a sinister manner. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and scuffed-up sneakers.

  Another of the men had short, spiky, black hair, and was wearing a camouflage t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. This man had lots of visible tattoos on his arms that portrayed gang wars and bloody knife fights. This thug looked like he belonged in the military.

  Alan’s eyes were drawn next to a man who was dressed in a long, black, trench coat. He was wearing a camouflage shirt and matching camouflage pants. The thug had shoulder-length, wavy, brown hair and dark eyes.

  The last thug was dressed all in black from head to toe and had a camouflage bandana tied around his shaved head.

  The man with the gold teeth was carrying a baseball bat and the one who had the bandana tied around his head was holding a golf club. These guys were obviously up to no good.

  Alan wondered what street gang they were a part of and why they were there. These were the kinds of men that liked to start trouble in a bar. They’d refuse to pay their bill or get into fights with the other patrons. When these kinds of people came to Dullahan’s his older brother George had usually been the one to break up the fights and kick the thugs out.

  Alan realized in that moment that he really should have hired a bouncer for the pub. Whoops. George had been no pushover and had been able to stop any fights that had ever broken out in the pub all by himself. Alan however…was not as tough as George had been. If a fight broke out, he wouldn’t be able to stop it. In other words, he was screwed.

  The five men made a beeline for the bar. All of the barstools that were available at the bar were surprisingly filled. Gold Teeth addressed the seated patrons. “Move.” He snarled in a low, gruff voice.

  Five patrons quickly scrambled off their barstools and gave up their seats to the thugs. The five men took their seats at the bar and Dante approached them. The bartender seemed to be taking their measure, but didn’t appear to be intimidated by them in the least. Alan was already about ready to pee in his pants. “What can I get you gentlemen?” Dante asked politely.

  Alan was impressed by Dante’s bravery. He wondered if these thugs were here for him. Alan had a few…enemies. Are they here for me? Alan had always been an easy target in high school as well as college, and just seemed to attract bullies like bees to honey. He’d made several enemies in college unwittingly when he baked some cookies for some girls who had boyfriends. The boyfriends had gotten jealous and had beaten the crap out of Alan.
He shuddered as he remembered some of the times he’d gotten beaten up by bullies due to similar misunderstandings.

  “Did he just call us ‘gentlemen’?” Tattoo scoffed with an amused look on his face. He looked around the pub curiously, spotted Kim, and tried to get her attention by flexing his biceps at her. Kim just rolled her eyes in response and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

  “Yea, I think he did!” The man in the trench coat said in a disbelieving tone. “He must be peeing in his pants. The pretty boy.”

  “Just get us something alcoholic, idiot.” Bandana sneered through gritted teeth.

  “Right away, Sir.” Dante drawled as he began to prepare cocktails for the men. The group’s attention suddenly focused on Dante fully as he impressively and gracefully prepared their drinks with flair. He threw one of the pouring bottles behind his back and caught it by its neck so that it was ready to pour. He pulled a couple more stunts with the bottles and the shaker tin, juggling and exchanging bar items, and in minutes, Dante was setting five colorful drinks down in front of the men.

  “He’s good.” Hoodie acknowledged in a soft voice.

  “Not bad, pretty boy.” Bandana sounded amused.

  “So…” Hoodie leaned forward and ran his tongue over his teeth. “The reason we’re here…does a girl named Joan Simone work here?”

  Dante raised an eyebrow at the thug. They were asking about Joan? Now, this was definitely the last thing Dante had expected. Joan was currently in the bathroom and would be back any second. The demon decided that he would deny that Joan worked there and try to get them to leave before she returned. First, he would try to get them to leave nicely, and if that didn’t work, well…they’d be sorry.

  Alan was about to hyperventilate. Those guys are here for Joan? Not me? Panic and relief warred through Alan. What could they possibly want with Joan?

  “Sorry, never heard of her.” Dante drawled. “Maybe she works in another bar close by here?”

  The five thugs shared questioning looks. However-

  “I’m hurt that you would forget about me so easily, Dante.” Came a snarky female voice.

  Dante wanted to slap a hand to his forehead and groan. What the hell was Joan doing? Dante looked past the thugs to see Joan standing behind the thugs with her hands on her hips, and noted that she looked furious. Her green eyes were blazing with fury and hatred, and her hands were clenched into tight fists.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Camouflage Brothers? Long time no see, jerks.” Joan sneered in greeting. “I can’t say that I missed you.”

  The gangsters spun on their barstools to face Joan. Their eyes widened when they obviously recognized her, and looks of anger and hatred formed on their faces. These men were out for blood.

  “There she is!” “It’s Joan Simone!” “That witch!” “We’ve finally found you!”

  “Oh, so you’ve been looking for me all this time?” Joan asked as if she were surprised. These jerks…why can’t they just leave me alone. “I’m flattered. Well, what do you guys want?”

  “Don’t play dumb, witch. You know why we’re here.” Hoodie said in a dark tone.

  “We’re going to avenge the Boss!” Tattoo roared out.

  “That loser?” Joan asked, “Is he still rotting away in prison? Or, no, wait, didn’t I put him into a coma?”

  “You heartless woman! Get her!” The thugs stood up from their barstools. Joan spun and took off running across the restaurant. The men were about to charge after Joan, however-

  In the blink of an eye, Dante had picked up five bottles of liquor, which he used to hit the heads of the five thugs. Each bottle shattered upon impact, and glass and alcohol streamed down their faces. Patrons screamed, jumped out of their seats, ran for cover, some dove under tables, and others tried to get to the exit.

  Dante was surprised, however, when the men remained standing. He hadn’t managed to knock them unconscious as he’d planned, and now they were incredibly angry. This is what he got for trying to go easy on them. They immediately spun to face Dante, murder shinning in their eyes. Dante could sense their bloodlust. These were men who’d killed before. What the hell was Joan doing associating with scum like them? He wondered confusedly.

  “What the hell, man?” Gold Tooth demanded.

  “Did that punk really just hit all of us over the head with a bottle?” Hoodie asked in a low voice. “At the same time?”

  “I didn’t even see the jerk move.” Bandana popped his jaw in irritation.

  “Punk! Stay out of this. We’re only here for Joan. She’s going to get what’s coming to her. That’s all.” Trench Coat insisted in a chill voice.

  Dante’s eyes had narrowed into slits. What the hell did these lowly humans want with the kind, innocent Joan? He was beginning to feel a little murderous himself and wondered how he’d be able to hold himself back from hurting these obnoxious humans. Or maiming them. Or torturing them. But he didn’t want to disappoint Alan.

  “Whoo woo!” A whistle drew the men’s attention. Joan was standing in front of the men once more, but now she held a billy club in her hand. She must have gotten it from her shoulder bag. “Hey, you boys are here for me, remember? So…come and get me. Leave that guy alone. He doesn’t have anything to do with this and besides, you’d be no match for him anyways.” Dante would eat these guys for breakfast. But I can’t let him get involved. If he fights…he’ll go demon and won’t be able to work here because of me. I have to handle this on my own.

  “Joan.” Dante murmured in worry. What does she think she’s doing? She should let me protect her.

  “Effing witch!” The men charged her again.

  The first to reach Joan was Gold Teeth. He swung his bat at Joan, but she ducked and avoided the attack. Joan spun, hit the thug on the back of his neck, and right on his carotid with her billy club. She sent him flying to the floor where he landed with a groan. Joan knew that the best targets to go for on a man were the throat and eyes, and then the crotch. Perhaps, trying to kick a man in the crotch was a bit dishonorable, but if fighting dirty let her win she decided she’d fight dirty. These guys didn’t deserve honorable methods anyways.

  Hoodie reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. He flipped it open with a flick of his wrist and jabbed it through the air towards Joan. Joan dodged sideways and hit Hoodie in the back of his knees with her billy club next, sending him to his knees.

  Dante placed one hand on the bar counter before jumping right over it to land on his feet, and right behind the man, who was wearing the trench coat. He grabbed the collar of the man’s jacket and yanked him backwards before he could get any closer to Joan. There was something about this guy in particular that Dante didn’t like. Dante could sense that he was dangerous and he wanted to keep him as far away from Joan as possible. The other guys were small fries in comparison.

  Trench Coat spun, reached into his jacket, and whipped out a gleaming machete. Dante’s eyes widened slightly. These guys were truly dangerous. Dante just couldn’t seem to get over that fact. What could they possibly want with an angel like Joan? An angel who’d already brought two of their number to the floor, but still. There had to be a logical explanation for all this. Also, about why Joan knew how to fight.

  Joan was reminding him more and more of Jeanne d’Arc, but Dante was afraid that he was seeing things in Joan that just weren’t there. That he wanted to see certain similarities between the two women where none existed and his mind was supplying those similarities.

  Trench Coat swung the machete at Dante, who was forced to dodge and avoid the attack. If only he had a weapon. Dante scowled. But his sword was stored away in a pocket dimension and he could only access it when he was at full demonic power.

  “Hey, stand still, punk!” Trench Coat complained as Dante continued to gracefully, and lithely dodge out of the way of the machete’s blade. “I’m going to gut you!”

  “Feel free to try.” Dante spotted
some silverware on a nearby table. “Permit me to borrow this for a moment.” The demon said to the patrons, who’d been frozen in their fear and were oddly enough still seated at the table. He picked up a fork and knife, and spun the utensils in his hands like drumsticks before getting into a fighting stance. Now the playing field was more even. Game on.

  Trench Coat let out a roar as he charged Dante, and raised his machete high before bringing it down at Dante in a downward slash. Dante crossed the fork and knife, and caught the machete’s blade, blocking the attack. Metal grated on metal.

  Dante pushed and Trench Coat stumbled backwards. Dante spun and with the fork stabbed Trench Coat’s hand that was holding the machete. Blood spurted from the wound on the man’s hand. Trench Coat howled in pain and rage, and dropped his machete. “Son of a gun!” He grabbed the fork and pulled it out of the back of his hand causing more blood to gush out of the wound. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, pretty boy. You just dug your own grave.” Trench Coat flung his jacket open to reveal that various deadly looking knives of all shapes and sizes were strapped to the interior of his trench coat.

  Dante looked at the knives and nodded. “Nice collection you have there.”

  “Thanks.” Trench Coat grinned savagely while grabbing several knives. He then began to fling them at Dante one after the other.

  Dante dodged out of the way and deflected several of the knives with his own small knife. However, the knives flew towards the patrons of Dullahan’s who screamed in terror and dove out of the way. The knives hit several bottles of liquor behind the bar and shattered. More patrons ran for the exit door screaming. Dante briefly wondered why so many had stayed behind in the first place. Curiosity killed the cat as the humans say.

  Trench Coat appeared to be feeding off of the mayhem he was creating and spread his arms wide, cackling.

  Dante clucked his tongue as he saw liquor drip down onto the floor. Such a waste. The demon contemplated throwing the knife he held and killing the man. Stabbing the man in his forehead or the neck would do it, but he knew Alan would never forgive him. He also might get fired if this mess didn’t get him fired already. But he’d been pretty nonviolent so far, right? “Bloody hell.” Not being able to kill an enemy, really tied a man’s hands.

  However, a secretive smile curled Trench Coat’s lips at that moment. Dante blinked at the man curiously. What the?

  “Dante! Look out!” Alan’s voice.

  Something impacted with the side of Dante’s head. Ow. Dante spun to see a man holding a golf club. That had effing hurt! Dante was about to retaliate when Kim suddenly snuck up behind the guy and hit him over the head with a beer bottle. The bottle shattered and beer dripped down the thug’s face. His expression turned livid. Bandana growled low in his throat and spun around to face Kim. She dropped the broken beer bottle and looked at the man wide-eyed. She was probably surprised he was still conscious. “Oh my God…he’s still…oh crap, wait!” She put her hands up in a surrendering gesture.

  Bandana raised the golf club, prepared to hit Kim with it. However-

  Alan was suddenly standing in Bandana’s way. “Stop!” He shouted as he stretched his arms out at his sides to shield and protect Kim. “If you want to hurt her…you’ll have to get through me first!” Alan boldly declared even though he was shaking like a leaf.

  Kim was looking at Alan with an astonished look on her face. “Alan.”

  Bandana looked Alan over before dismissing him as a threat. He smiled evilly and swung the club at Alan’s head, showing no mercy. Alan shut his eyes as he awaited the impact.

  In an instant, Dante had reached out, grabbed the golf club, and stopped it mid swing. “Just who the hell are you inferior humans?” Dante demanded as he yanked the golf club out of the man’s grasp and tossed it side. It skidded across the floor.

  Bandana spun to face Dante once more. “We’re the Camouflage Brothers. Perhaps, you’ve heard of us?”

  “No.” The demon deadpanned.

  Bandana gave Dante a surprised look since the Camouflage Brothers had recently been on the news for things like arson, armed robbery, and drug trafficking. “Where have you been living? Under a rock? We sell drugs and we’re the best in the business.”

  “Drugs?” Dante wondered aloud, still not understanding their connection to Joan in the slightest. Illegal substances. Ah. I see. These men are part of a gang.

  Stab. Trench Coat had thrown a dagger that imbedded itself into Dante’s back. Blazes! Dante reached behind his back and pulled the blade out before tossing it to the floor. Luckily, Alan’s fear was high and began to heal Dante’s wound instantly. Trench Coat and Bandana started to close in on Dante.

  Meanwhile, Joan was facing off against Tattoo, who’d whipped out a billy club of his own. Joan charged towards Tattoo and swung her weapon at him, but he blocked her attack with his own club. They continued to attack and block each other’s attacks. Darn it. This is getting us nowhere. Joan realized since they’d pretty much fallen into a stalemate.

  Until, the golf club skidded across the floor and stopped at Joan’s feet. The golf club! Yes! Joan dropped the billy club, picked up the golf club, and held it in a two-handed grip before her - in the very same manner that she gripped her sword. She smiled confidently. Now, none of these punks stood a chance against her.

  Joan swung the golf club at Tattoo. Her reach was longer than his now and he was unable to block her attack. The club went flying into the side of Tattoo’s face mercilessly. He was sent flying sideways and into one of the round tables that shattered upon impact. The patrons, who’d been frozen in fear and seated at the table, screamed and scrambled to get out of the way. Plates were also smashed and sent to the floor due to the man’s impact. Tattoo had finally been knocked unconscious.

  By this time, Gold Teeth and Hoodie had recovered from the blows Joan had dealt them and were staggering to their feet. Gold Teeth approached Joan first with his baseball bat raised. Joan charged forward and their makeshift weapons clashed. Swing. Block. Jab. Parry.

  They fought as if they were wielding swords, and then Joan’s golf club slipped past the man’s defenses. She delivered a harsh horizontal slash to his stomach. If she’d been wielding her sword his guts would be spilling out all over the floor. Lucky for him, he sunk to his knees in pain with his arms wrapped around his still intact stomach, and passed out cold a second later.

  Hoodie had his switchblade back in his hand and charged at Joan. Joan blocked the blade and knocked it out of his hand with a skillful twist of her sword, er, golf club. As soon as he was weaponless she jabbed her club forward into the center of his chest sending him flying back and with such force that he flew over the bar. The man hit the glass shelves causing several to shatter and bottles of liquor to go crashing to the floor.

  That’s probably going to come out of my paycheck. Just great. Joan turned to see Trench Coat and Bandana approaching Dante from both sides. Two against one. Those cowardly jerks! She totally hated these guys. “Jerks!” Joan cried as she charged towards them, and jabbed Trench Coat’s back with her golf club causing him to stumble forward.

  Thanks Joan. Dante caught the man and headbutted him. Trench Coat fell backwards to the floor, unconscious. Joan was already upon Bandana. She swung her golf club at Bandana’s head and sent him flying into another table. More patrons screamed and ran for the exit. At this point the pub was finally empty except for Joan, Dante, Alan, Kim and the Camouflage Brothers. Unseen, Fred and his wife Hilda were hiding in the kitchen and hugging each other out of fear. Dante had told them if something like this were to ever happen to just leave things to him, which is exactly what they were doing.

  Joan was panting for breath, and her knuckles were white around the handle of the golf club. She looked over at Kim and Alan. Kim looked frightened and Alan…also looked frightened but of her. Joan’s stomach twisted into knots and her blood chilled to ice in her veins when she realized what she’d just done. She�
�d gone crazy. Joan shook her head as the reality of what she’d just done began to sink in. “No…” The golf club fell from her limp, trembling fingers. “No…I…didn’t mean to.” She said in a small voice.

  At that moment, Trench Coat stood up and lunched himself at Joan with a knife in his hand. “Die, witch!”

  Joan turned but knew that there was nothing she could do in time.

  In a heartbeat, Dante was there, grabbing the knife with his bare hand, and stopping it. The knife cut into the palm of Dante’s hand, blood trickled down his wrist, but he barely seemed to notice. He yanked the blade away and tossed it aside. Dante saw red. This man had just tried to kill Joan. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him! Kill. Kill. Kill. He grabbed the man by his shirt collar, lifted him up off the floor, and threw him across the room.

  He went right through the front window of Dullahan’s with a tremendous crash. Glass and wood shattered and the front window was completely destroyed.

  Oh no. Joan moaned in her mind. Now Alan had just witnessed Dante’s superhuman strength, and it was all her fault. The pub was a mess. Joan looked around and spotted two broken tables, the broken glass shelves behind the bar, broken liquor bottles, and now a broken front window. She’d practically wrecked the place in her rampage. What was she a monster? This is all my fault. I couldn’t keep my temper in check. I guess the jig is up. Everyone knows I’m not a perfect little angel anymore.

  Joan looked up at Alan, sadness and shame swimming in her green eyes. “I’m so sorry Alan. So sorry.” She murmured before she turned and ran right out the front door.

  “Joan! Wait!” Alan called after her, but she didn’t hear him, or maybe she pretended not to.

  ***

  Joan ran out the front door and down the sidewalk without looking back. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision. She knew that Alan would fire her after that fiasco. She’d just revealed her true violent nature. Truth was, Joan was no goody-two-shoes. She was a girl with a criminal record!

  Joan wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and ran right out into the middle of the street. Honk. Honk. A truck’s horn blared loudly. Joan turned and saw bright headlights shinning at her and froze. Just like that. She couldn’t move. She knew she had mere seconds of life left. This is it. A thrill of fear traveled down her spine. Dantalion!

  She shut her eyes and awaited the impact.

  The impact never came.

  Joan risked opening her eyes and looked up to see Dante’s worried face. He was cradling her in his arms. Dante had saved her from getting run over by a truck. Her eyes went wide at the realization. “Dante.” She could see his horns. Demon Duke Dantalion. It was too much for her to handle emotionally and she passed out in Dante’s arms.

  ***

  Dante looked down at the unconscious form of Joan in his arms. He tightened his hold upon her and brought her closer to his chest. Mine. Safe. This strange possessive instinct was overtaking him as of late. He was filled with relief that she was alright. She’d almost been killed. Human beings were so very fragile.

  Joan’s fear at almost dying coursed through his veins, giving him power. His horns had emerged, a red aura was flaring around him, and he had enough power to summon his wings, which he did. Two black, leathery, dragon-like wings emerged from his back. He opened them and stood up. With a gentle flap of his wings he took off into the sky. In moments they were soaring across the gray night sky.

  Dante flew to his apartment building. Instead of using the front door, Dante flew to the balcony of his apartment and landed upon it. He strode towards the windowed double doors, and opened them before entering his bedroom. With a thought the lights were turned on as well as two lamps that were on his bedside tables.

  Dante carried Joan over to his bed and gently set her down upon the mattress. She was covered in small cuts and bruises. The demon frowned. He wanted to take care of her wounds but didn’t know what to do. He went over to his desk and took a seat. He opened the laptop that Fred had helped him to purchase and turned it on. He connected to the Internet via WiFi and opened a web browser. He went to google.com and typed in ‘how to tend cuts and scrapes using a First-Aid Kit’.

  Dante’s hands flew over the keyboard with lightning speed. His eyes went back and forth over the screen as he read up on how to heal a human using modern-day supplies and a First-Aid Kit. He learned what rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, Band-Aids, sterile bandages and Neosporin were. The ‘Internet’ was extremely useful and convenient since Dante no longer needed to go to the library to learn things about humans. He’d also found a series of interesting videos on YouTube about how to be a ‘Flair Bartender’ and had learned all of the tricks in a matter of hours.

  Dante would have to thank Fred later for forcing him into the twenty first century, technology wise. It was Fred who’d also taught Dante how to use his very first smart phone. Now that Dante knew how to take care of Joan using the supplies he had on hand, he made his way into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. There was a small, white First-Aid Kit with a red cross on it. Fred had purchased the kit for him, not knowing that a demon like him didn’t really need it. Well, as long as there were frightened humans around Dante wouldn’t need medical treatment that is. The kit was yet another thing Dante would have to thank Fred for.

  Dante made his way over to Joan. He sat down on the edge of the bed, opened the First-Aid Kit and began to tend to her wounds. After Dante was finished placing the last Band-Aid on one of Joan’s many scrapes, she began to stir. He’d been sliding his finger unconsciously over the Band-Aid and pulled his finger back as if he’d been stung.

  “Ugh.” She groaned as she slowly came awake. Joan blinked, looked up at the unfamiliar ceiling, and frowned. She turned her head to see Dante just standing and staring down at her causing her to gasp and sit up quickly. Bad idea. “Ow.” She put a hand to her forehead. She had a throbbing headache. Dante offered her a glass of water and two tiny white pills. Joan gave the pills a suspicious look. “What are they?”

  “It’s called Tylenol.” Dante informed her in a dry tone. “Apparently, it helps with a human’s headache.”

  Of course I know what Tylenol is, demon. “Tylenol, yea.” The real question is how do you know about it. Joan took the two pills and washed them down with a gulp of water. “Thanks.” She began to notice that the cuts and scrapes on her arms and legs had been tended to. Joan had a bunch of Band-Aids on her body now. She frowned. Had Dante treated her wounds? The bloodthirsty demon? No way. “Did you do this?” She asked softly. Talk about déjà vu. Here we are in another life and we’re still treating each other’s wounds.

  “Yes.”

  Joan looked up and gave Dante a surprised look. “Thank you.” She looked around the bedroom curiously suddenly realizing that she was probably in Dante’s bedroom though she couldn’t be sure. “Where am I?”

  “My room.” Dante rumbled, in that deep voice of his.

  Joan swallowed thickly as she looked around the room with interest. The bed had black, silk sheets on it. She spotted a simple, oak desk with a chair in front of it, and a laptop. There were also a mahogany, antique dresser, and two bedside tables with two lamps. Joan noted a door that probably led to a closet and another that most likely led to the bathroom. The furnishings and decorations were pretty Spartan, but she didn’t really know what to expect. She frowned. I wonder how Dante had his room decorated back in Hell. Like this or…did he have deadly weapons that he’d recovered from his fallen enemies covering the walls? Piles of human bones sitting in a corner? Or even a chair made out of human bones. A sexy she-demon lying on his bed waiting for Dante to come home?

  Dante sat down on the edge of the bed, almost hesitantly, and Joan scooted away from him until her back hit the headboard. His golden eyes were boring into her. She wondered what the hell he could be thinking. He asked the last thing she expected.

  His brow was furrowed. “Why did you run away?”

&nbs
p; Joan gawked at the demon, and her jaw dropped. But then again…Dante was a demon. What was a show of violence for one of them except normalcy? She sighed and rubbed her temples. “Dante…I screwed up. I shouldn’t have done what I did back there and beaten those guys up. Normal, civilized people just don’t do something like that…act all crazy and violent. I practically destroyed the pub.”

  Dante tilted his head at her. “If you knew it was wrong then why did you do it?”

  Joan flinched, and a guilty look formed on her face, “I couldn’t stop myself. I hate those guys. The Camouflage Brothers.” She grit her teeth as she said their gang name.

  “Why?” Dante’s interest was piqued.

  Joan’s eyes flashed with sadness. “My older sister is dead because of them.”

  Dante’s blood boiled at the thought. Someone had hurt Joan Simone’s sister. More than five hundred years ago, Jeanne d’Arc had told him about how her sister Catherine had been killed in a brutal manner. There were definitely some odd parallels between Jeanne d’Arc and Joan Simone. But he supposed humans all led rather tragic lives. Tragedy was commonplace. “How? Did they…?”

  Joan shook her head and wondered if she should tell Dante her story. He was a demon with dark, violent urges. Perhaps, he would understand her where no one else had. Joan shrugged and decided that it was worth a shot. “Ever since I can remember I have had this pent-up aggression. This anger inside of me that just wants to get out and destroy stuff. When I went to high school the urges became even stronger and I formed an all-girl gang. We would challenge other high school gangs to fights and usually kick their butts for fun.” A wistful smile curled her lips as she remembered those simpler times.

  Dante’s lip twitched.

  “Around this time, my older sister, Cathy, got into drugs. I didn’t even know about it but…I was the one to discover her body. She’d overdosed on cocaine. She had a phone number clutched in her hand. I called the number and realized it was a drug dealer. I arranged a meeting with him under the guise that I wanted to buy more drugs. The idiot led me right to their hideout.

  “I was…angry, sad, and distraught about my sister’s death. I couldn’t hold myself back. I attacked them all. There were twenty men in that hideout but…they were no match for me in my murderous rage. I wasn’t myself. I found out which one was their leader and attacked him. I got him on the floor and just kept hitting him. I should have stopped once he fell unconscious but I didn’t.” There was regret in Joan’s tone.

  “You should have killed him. He killed your sister.” Dante argued.

  Joan gave Dante a surprised look but shook her head. “Not according to the law. Anyways, the cops showed up for a drug bust. It was sucky timing. I was arrested and charged with assault and battery. It didn’t matter that I was beating up the bad guys. I was pissed and resisted arrest. That’s how I was also charged with assaulting a police officer. I put ten of those gang members in the hospital and their leader fell into a coma. My family refused to pay for my bail, so I had to sit in a prison cell for days.” Joan shuddered as she remembered being locked up in that cell. It had subconsciously reminded her of her time in that tower over five hundred years ago…

  Dante reached out and hesitantly placed his hand over Joan’s, offering her support.

  Joan gave Dante a surprised look, before she simply continued with her story. “They finally had to let me go. A detective named Diana Dekker was put in charge of me but I ignored her. I returned home thinking that things could return back to normal, but my parents kicked me out of the house. I was seventeen years old, and I’d been kicked out on the streets with no money and nowhere to go. It’s an awful feeling to be kicked out of your own home, Dante. A feeling I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.” Joan turned her hand so that she could wrap it around Dante’s and squeeze his hand in return.

  Dante couldn’t help thinking about Fred, Hilda and the other homeless people Dante had discovered in Central Park. To be homeless is a sad plight indeed.

  “Anyways, Detective Dekker found me…and she let me stay at her apartment. She got me to play tennis with her, and said that I should try to channel my aggression into sports. Apparently, she was right. I discovered that I was really good at tennis. So I trained hard and became a professional tennis player. After that, I won several tennis tournaments, and even won an Olympic gold medal. But then…I got into a car accident. A rival of mine hit my car from behind and I broke my right leg. That’s why I have a slight limp, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Dante ran his thumb over the palm of Joan’s hand. “I noticed.”

  “In that instant my dreams were shattered. I was no longer able to play tennis. I had nothing to channel my anger into and then…” Joan bit her lower lip as she recalled how her golden retriever started talking to her, revealed that she was the reincarnation of Jeanne d’Arc, gave her a cross that made her remember her past life, and told her that it was her duty to protect New York City from lesser demons. “I realized I had to get a job in the real world because my savings were running low. No one wanted to hire me. For my criminal record mostly, but also because I refused to wear a skirt. But Alan was different. He didn’t even ask to see my resume and he could care less if I wore a skirt to work or not. I tried so hard to be ‘good’. But my past came back to haunt me. Alan deserved better…I totally screwed things up. I wrecked the bar. Alan’s going to fire me for sure. I just know it.” Joan hung her head sadly, and tears filled her eyes.

  Dante didn’t know why but he had this urge to comfort Joan. He reached out, tilted her head up to look at him, and wiped her tears away gently with his thumbs. “Joan…you’re wrong. Alan was worried about you. He sent me to bring you back. I know he won’t fire you. He’s not like that. Alan is a kind-hearted human. Besides, those lowly humans got just what they deserved. They’re scum, Joan. Don’t worry. Alan said he’ll tell the cops that they took each other out. He won’t even mention us. So, you see, Alan is protecting us both.”

  Joan sniffled as she looked into Dante’s molten gold eyes. She couldn’t believe this demon was actually trying to comfort her. Wiping her tears away tenderly with his thumbs. He was acting so human that her heart ached. Dante understood her. He didn’t judge her violent actions but instead was on her side. He accepted her. This meant a lot to her. She couldn’t stop the smile that curled her lips.

  Dante smiled back.

  Neither knew who started to lean forward first, but perhaps they started to lean forward at the same time. Joan closed her eyes and Dante pressed his lips gently to hers. He too closed his eyes, and savored the sweet taste of Joan’s lips. Honeysuckles. Tingles passed between them. The simple chaste kiss was electric.

  Joan tentatively began to move her lips against his. Dante instantly responded. He couldn’t help himself as he ran his tongue over Joan’s honey lips seeking entrance.

  “Dante.” Joan gasped and Dante plunged his tongue into her mouth. Joan moaned at the sensation of Dante’s hot tongue caressing her own. Her blood was on fire. Her tongue was burning. He was burning her with desire from the inside out. But this wasn’t a fire she was afraid of. This was passion in its most raw form. She wrapped her arms around Dante’s neck and pulled him closer. It was Dante’s turn to let out a satisfied groan.

  Dante could feel Joan’s chest pressing up against his rock-hard torso. He raised his hand and ran it through her short, silky hair. So soft. She fit perfectly against him. He breathed deep, wanting more of her, to breath in her scent and essence into his lungs like a drowning man - freshly cut grass and honeysuckles.

  Joan thought Dante tasted like whiskey and spices, and his kiss continued to tingle and burn pleasantly. The heat, the passion, seemed to intensify between them and their tongues clashed more aggressively. Joan saw sparks in front of her eyes. Dante was as intoxicating as a cocktail. She was getting drunk on his kiss. She felt dizzy.

  It was too much.

  Too much pleasure and too much passio
n all at once, and two many raw emotions were crashing through her because of the remembered death of her sister. She pulled back, breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, “Dante.” She murmured before she passed out.

  Eyes wide, Dante slowly and gently lowered Joan down to the mattress. She fainted…why? Did I hurt her? No. Her emotions must be in turmoil. His own were too. What the hell was he doing kissing this human female? She’s not Jeanne. And even if she were - I hate Jeanne d’Arc. She betrayed me. Human women are deceptive. They lie and they betray. So what am I doing? I will not allow myself to fall in love again.

  Dante decided to return to Dullahan’s. He still had just enough fear energy leftover to fly back to the Irish pub. The demon made his way out onto his balcony, and let his wings emerge from his back. He took off into the night sky. A few minutes later, he landed in an alleyway that was close to Dullahan’s and walked the rest of the way there. He entered the pub and noted that the place was now devoid of the five gang members and that Kim and Alan were both cleaning the place up together. They turned when they heard Dante’s approach.

  “Dante, did you find Joan? Is she okay?” Kim rushed up to him with a worried look on her face.

  “Joan is fine.” He assured Kim before turning to face Alan. “Although she’s worried that you’re going to fire her after this incident, Boss.”

  Alan frowned, tilted his head, and gave Dante a quizzical look. “Huh? Why would I fire Joan? Those guys were obviously bad people. I don’t know what they did to Joan in her past, but…I’m glad she was able to defend herself against them.” I wish I were like Joan and that I could stand up to people like that. She was amazing. I, on the other hand, was pathetic. I could barely defend Kim as it was.

  Dante grinned before reaching out and ruffling Alan’s hair. “You are a good boss.”

  Alan reddened, he wasn’t used to compliments.

  Kim wrapped her arms around Alan. “Yea, he’s the best! Thanks Alan…for not judging Joan harshly. She…tries so hard.” Kim decided to leave it at that. She didn’t want to reveal Joan’s criminal record to Alan and betray her best friend’s trust. It was obvious that Alan didn’t know about what had happened between Joan and the Camouflage Brothers, but when Joan was ready to share she would tell Alan everything.

  Alan blushed even harder. “N-No problem.”

  “Kim, you should go home. It’s late. I will help Alan to clean up the rest of the restaurant.” Dante offered.

  Kim yawned and quickly covered her mouth with her hand, looking sheepish. “Well, alright…it is late. I can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll see you guys tomorrow then! Night!” Kim kissed Alan’s cheek. “Thanks again, Alan!”

  “Night.” Alan watched Kim leave the pub with a dazed look on his face.

  Dante smiled at Alan. He was definitely in love with Kim. He cleared his throat to get Alan’s attention. “Boss.”

  Alan started and a guilty look crossed his face. “Yes?”

  “You look exhausted. Why don’t you go to bed too?” Dante didn’t want to order his boss around, but the young man looked like he could barely remain standing.

  Alan yawned but shook his head. “No, I want to help you.” The young man swayed on his feet but Dante caught him.

  “Allow me to assist you to your room.” Dante offered in a firm tone.

  “I…” Alan sighed and gave in. “Very well. Thanks Dante.”

  Dante’s lip twitched. “No problem.” The demon helped Alan up the stairs and to the second floor of Dullahan’s where Alan lived. Alan directed Dante to his room and Dante helped Alan inside. With a thought the lights were turned on. Dante looked around Alan’s room curiously. The young man had several computers, a TV, an Xbox, piles of video games, comic books, and shelves that were full of books. There was also a table with a sewing machine on it and several notebooks. On Alan’s ceiling were several glow in the darks stars and Dantalion had spotted some books on Astrology on one of the bookshelves.

  Dante laid Alan down on the bed gently. The young man had already fallen fast asleep. The demon decided to get Alan out of his clothes so that he could be more comfortable, but when he was removing Alan’s shirt the movement caused the hair that covered the left side of Alan’s face to be moved out of the way. Dante blinked. The demon scowled darkly and reached his hand out to Alan’s cheek where there was a nasty looking burn scar.

  Somehow Dante knew that this had been no accident. Someone had hurt Alan and that made his blood boil. Who has dared to harm my Master? He growled low in his throat. But then Dante caught himself mid-thought. Master? Dante looked down at Alan and frowned. Why did he call Alan ‘Master’? He was not King Solomon.

  Two thousand nine hundred and forty-five years ago, Solomon had been a divinely appointed monarch who ruled over the Kingdom of Israel. He was also known for being a prophet, a messenger of God and the son of David. When God came to Solomon in a dream and asked him what he wished for, Solomon asked God for wisdom. Because Solomon’s wish was so unselfish, God rewarded Solomon with the ability to be able to read people’s hearts and know if they were good or evil. He also gave Solomon the ability to talk to animals and control them.

  But one of the most important gifts that God bestowed upon King Solomon was ‘The Seal of Solomon’ which was a magic ring with the power to capture and control demons. Asmodeus, King of demons, was captured using the ring and forced into Solomon’s service. Solomon had the demon Asmodeus help construct the First Temple in Jerusalem. Solomon also captured Dantalion with the ring, but upon coming to know Solomon, Dantalion served him of his own free will throughout his entire reign.

  Asmodeus, however, served Solomon unwillingly and Dantalion was forced to keep a close eye on Asmodeus, who was always trying to steal Solomon’s ring so that he could kill the king. One day, while Dantalion was away on a mission, Asmodeus tricked Solomon into handing the ring over to him (Solomon had always been very trusting) and Asmodeus threw the ring into the sea. Asmodeus then attacked Solomon but Dantalion appeared just in the nick of time and protected him. Dantalion was greatly injured however, and they were forced to flee. Solomon wandered from city to city before coming to an Ammonite city where he worked in the king’s kitchens. Later, Solomon gained the chance to prepare a meal for the Ammonite king and the king was so impressed by it that he fired his head chef.

  In this manner, Solomon also managed to catch the eye of the king’s beautiful daughter, Naamah, and she fell in love with him. The king disapproved of their union unfortunately and exiled them into the desert. Solomon and Naamah wandered the desert until they came to a coastal city where they bought a fish to eat. As it so happened the fish contained Solomon’s magic ring, which it had swallowed! With the ring back in his possession Solomon was able to regain his throne and expel Asmodeus from his city.

  Dantalion and Asmodeus weren’t the only demons that Solomon had captured and controlled with the ring during his reign. In fact, there were seventy-two demons. The ‘Lesser Key of Solomon’ is a grimoire relating the story of Solomon capturing demons using his ring and forcing them to explain themselves to him. This ancient work that the humans now possessed could be used for things like exorcism.

  The book can be dangerous in the wrong hands and should really only be in the hands of priests who know that they were doing when it comes to exorcisms. Dantalion was the seventy-first demon that Solomon captured, controlled and forced to explain himself.

  The Lesser Key of Solomon states: ‘The Seventy-first Spirit is Dantalion. He is a Duke Great and Mighty, appearing in the Form of a Man with many countenances, all Men’s and Women’s faces; and he hath a Book in his right hand. His Office is to teach all Arts and Sciences unto any; and to declare the Secret Counsel of any one; for he knoweth the Thoughts of all Men and Women, and can change them at his Will. He can cause Love, and show the Similitude of any person, and show the same by a Vision, let them be in what part of the World they Will. He governeth thirty-six Legions of Spiri
ts.’

  Several of the demons had served Solomon willingly, and had even formed a friendship with him, but others like Asmodeus had not.

  To be continued…in Drink 10: Six Cycle

  Dantalion: “Good evening, inferior human, so you wish to know how to make a Manhattan? Well, chill your martini glass with water or soda and ice. Pour into an empty shaker tin 2 ounces of American Rye Whiskey, 1 ounce of sweet vermouth and a dash of Angostura Bitters. Then pour the tin contents into another tin with ice when you are ready (this is so the contents aren’t sitting in the ice so that they become diluted). Stir with a bar spoon for thirty seconds and when you are done pour into the chilled martini glass. Garnish with a Maraschino cherry and enjoy! Remember that the legal drinking age is 21, and to drink responsibly.”