 
### Wicked Bartender

A demon bartender as intoxicating as a cocktail

By KuroKoneko Kamen

Copyright 2014 by KuroKoneko Kamen

Cover Design by Kyoux

Smashwords Edition, License notes

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This is a work of fiction. All characters are invented. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

### Chapter 1: Dark and Stormy

Green eyes. Those pale green eyes with flecks of starlight were glistening with tears...and it was breaking his heart.

Those piercing eyes staring back at him was the last thing, Dantalion, the Great Duke of Hell with thirty-six legions of demons under his command, remembered before he'd been sealed away. He'd been stabbed through the chest by God's Chosen Warrior and pinned to an enormous fig tree. The demon remembered hundreds of leafy vines of ivy wrapping around his body tightly until absolute darkness enveloped him and all his senses.

But the pressure of those damned vines was finally loosening. A tingling sensation was spreading throughout his limbs and a few minutes later he could move his pinky finger. The vines started to coil away from his body, and Dantalion fell forward and away from the tree that he'd become a part of. Bark splintered with an audible _crack_.

"Jeanne! _Why?_ " Dantalion hollered as he broke free of his bonds and angrily pulled the vines from his body in handfuls.

The demon blinked. He'd expected the warrior maiden to be directly in front of him but she was no longer present.

"Um...excuse me, My Lord?" Came a slimy, raspy voice.

Dantalion looked down and saw a lesser demon. The creature was three feet tall with spindly limbs, red skin, and black, bulbous eyes. As the small demon smiled at Dantalion his pointed fangs were revealed. Behind him a long, serpentine tail was swishing back and forth. Two bat-like wings flittered behind his back and two tiny horns protruded from his head.

Dantalion raised an eyebrow at the minion of Hell. "Who the hell are you? Speak, lowly creature." He ordered absentmindedly as he looked around at his surroundings and dusted his clothes off. _Odd._ He remembered having fought the holy maiden in a large open field of yellow flowers, but this place...was no field.

The area he found himself in had several leafy evergreen trees and areas that were obviously man-made where different flowering plants had been planted. Though at the moment most of the plants appeared to be dead or dormant because of the cold weather. Dantalion quickly deduced that he was in some kind of human garden or park. But how had he gotten there? He wondered.

Dantalion looked behind him at the fig tree that he'd been sealed to and noticed a bronze plaque with the following words engraved upon it: _Gift of France._ The words were surprisingly in English and not in French. How long had he been asleep? Had the English won the war and occupied France? The demon Duke wondered.

The fig tree was larger than Dantalion remembered it to be. It now towered above him, thirty feet high, and there were still large, green leaves on its branches despite the cold. The trunk was six feet wide and its bark silvery in appearance. The tree had tall roots as well as aerial roots that draped from the tree's branches all the way to the ground.

"My name is Ajax. And it is I who awakened you from your cursed slumber." Ajax announced proudly as he puffed up his chest and gave Dantalion an expectant look. When he received no immediate response, Ajax's pleased expression faltered but he plowed on. "I'm the one who broke the holy seal that had been placed upon you."

Dantalion's attention shifted back to the minion. "You broke the seal? How?" His sharp, golden eyes narrowed at the creature suspiciously. The seal caused by the maid's sword had been incredibly powerful, so it didn't seem very likely that a lesser demon like this one had been able to break it all on his own.

"It took centuries for the seal of God's Chosen Warrior to weaken. When Master Lucifer knew that it was finally time he gave me the power I would need and sent me here." Ajax explained and began to rub his hands together. "I was able to destroy that abominable sword with the power Lucifer granted me."

_Jeanne's sword? Destroyed?_ "Master Lucifer? How many years have I been pinned to this damned tree exactly?" Dantalion snarled, fearing the answer and his blood already beginning to boil in anger.

"You were sealed in 1429 so...five hundred and eighty-four years." Ajax quickly supplied.

"Five hundred and eighty-four years?" Dantalion murmured and most of his anger began to vanish. _Then the Maid of Orléans is dead long past._ "The year is...?"

"2014, My Lord," Ajax piped in helpfully.

Dantalion sent a glare the demon's way. He'd already figured that out himself. "My mission?" He questioned, his hand drifting down to the hilt of his sword out of reflex.

The minion rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Master Lucifer awakened you because the Apocalypse draws near and he will have need of you. Until then Master Lucifer commands that you live as a human. You are to blend in among humankind, and await further instructions."

Dantalion blinked in confusion. "As a _human_ but..." He looked down at his hands and his eyes widened in surprise. He removed his hand from the hilt of his sword to better inspect it. He had normal _human_ hands with short, square-shaped nails. No claws.

A feeling of dread washed through him as he reached his hands up to the top of his head and discovered his horns were gone. He looked behind him and noted that his impressive dragon-like wings were also gone. _My wings._ Dantalion ran his tongue over his teeth and felt that his canines were smaller and less pointed. He tried to keep his calm as he inspected the rest of his now human body.

The demon was giving Dantalion a sympathetic look and must have noticed Dantalion's slight trembling because he sought to soothe his Lord. "I know how you must feel, My Lord. To have to live as a pitiful human is...regrettable. But I'm sure it won't be long before Lucifer makes his will known, and you get to fight for his noble cause once more!"

After a few minutes Dantalion smiled, which under normal circumstances was _never_ a good thing. Ajax shuddered at the sight and began to shift from one foot to the other out of nervousness.

The demon Duke began to cackle. "I get to live as a human! As a human! That's... _wonderful_." He said softly to himself in a strange giddy tone. At first, he'd been shocked by the very idea but now...he realized that this was something that he'd wondered about deep down ever since he'd fallen in love with Jeanne d'Arc five hundred and eighty-four years ago.

"My Lord?" Startled, Ajax looked at Dantalion wide-eyed, and completely misunderstood why he was suddenly laughing. "What...? My Lord...do not worry. If this form so offends you, all you have to do is harvest some demonic power and your form will return to its original one. You can start by harvesting fear from some inferior humans by torturing them or killing them. All these things will restore your power and your true form instantly." Ajax's onyx eyes glittered at the thought of torturing humans - one of his favorite pastimes.

Abruptly, the smile fell from Dantalion's face and his attention snapped back to the lesser demon. "Ajax...who else is aware of my...awakening?" He ran his tongue over his teeth, still unused to his teeth being less sharp.

Ajax blinked. "Only Master Lucifer. I am to be your loyal servant. Master Lucifer will speak through me in order to give you your orders. I have the rare ability to be able to travel back and forth from Hell to Earth because of a pact I have with an inferior human. That is why I was chosen for this task. I am Lucifer's messenger." Again the lesser demon was puffing up his chest in pride.

"A messenger," Dantalion echoed wistfully, before he shook his head. He stared down at the minion of Hell with a cold look on his face. "Thank you for the information, Ajax." The demon Duke drawled before his hand snapped out, wrapped around the lesser demon's throat, and began to squeeze.

Ajax brought his bony hands up to his neck and tried to pry Dantalion's hand away. He began to choke and desperately gasp for breath. He gave Dantalion a confused, hurt, and fearful look. "My Lord... _why?_ I am your loyal servant!"

"Exactly." Dantalion rumbled as a wicked smile curled his lips. His golden eyes were as cold as ice. Dantalion lifted the lesser demon off the ground and continued to clench his hand around Ajax's neck until a sickening _crack_ split through the park. The sound startled a group of pigeons in one of the nearby trees causing them to take flight.

Dantalion tossed the lesser demon's lifeless body aside. Now, he was free. At least, for the moment. He planned to enjoy this... _interesting_ experience unhindered for as long as he could.

The Duke of Hell began to determinedly make his way through the park. The leaves of the nearby tress had already changed color, and were shades of orange, red and yellow. Dantalion deduced that it must be autumn. He felt the weak presences of a few filthy humans, who were wearing tattered clothing and sitting around the park. Some of these humans were sleeping beneath a tiny bridge. They posed no threat, so Dantalion simply ignored these pathetic humans and continued on his way. In just a few minutes, more humans came into view. Very strange looking humans.

The first was a tall man dressed in a black and white tuxedo. A long black cape with a bright, red lining billowed out behind him as he walked. The human had his black hair slicked back against his scalp, there were noticeable fangs poking out of his mouth and blood was dripping down from those sinister looking fangs.

_A fellow demon?_ _Or a lowly vampire?_ Dantalion wondered for a moment but sniffed the air. _No...he smells human. How odd._

A heavyset human man was a part of the trio that was now heading Dantalion's way. The human had long, curly, black hair, and a black bandana that had white skulls and crossbones on it was tied around his head. He was wearing an all black outfit along with a pair of black boots with cuffs. A gleaming cutlass was strapped to his side. Dantalion raised an eyebrow at this man next. _A pirate?_ The demon deduced before placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to do battle if need be.

The last member of their group had Dantalion's jaw dropping slightly but he quickly closed it with an audible click. A young human female with flowing, blonde hair and bright blue eyes was dressed up as _Wonder Woman_. Though of course Dantalion had no way to know who 'Wonder Woman' was. The female was wearing a gold and red corset that barely covered her full breasts, blue briefs, and a pair of red and gold knee boots. Dantalion thought the woman looked like a harlot since she was wearing so little clothing. A golden headband with a red star on it was on her head. It was the most outrageously scandalous outfit Dantalion had ever seen a human female wear. _She must be a harlot._

Dantalion unsheathed his double-edged, black iron, great sword, and pointed it at the suspicious group of humans approaching him. " _Halt, humbles humains!_ " Dantalion spoke to the trio in French saying: 'Halt, lowly humans!'.

The group of teens didn't understand what Dantalion had just said to them, but they stopped in order to take a better look at him. Dantalion towered over them at six-five, and the teens had to tilt their heads up to look at his face. As Wonder Woman gazed into the demon's golden eyes a blush formed on her cheeks. She'd never seen such a handsome man before. His skin was pale alabaster like marble, his eyelashes were longer than hers, and his hair was silky looking, black as the night, and chin-length.

The demon Duke was wearing a shirt and pants that had been made out of the leathery skin of a dragon from Hell. The black leather material fit over his body like a second skin, showing off his muscular chest and torso, and the hard, lean muscles of his six-pack abs. On his forearms he was wearing menacing bracers that had been made out of sharp, dragon scales. Greaves that were also made out of dragon scales were attached to his shins.

Dantalion's sword was strapped to his side by means of a leather belt and sheathe. Only the hilt and pommel of Dantalion's sword were visible. The hilt of Dantalion's sword consisted of a dragon's outstretched wings and the pummel was a group of small white, howling skulls. Dantalion's shoulder armor had a series of long, wicked looking metal spikes. Attached to his shoulders was a long, black, flowing cape with a blood-red lining. The demon Duke's heavy boots thudded against the ground as he strolled forward and his cape billowed behind him in the evening wind lending to his imposing presence.

Wonder Woman sucked in a breath. _Oh my God. What a hottie._ Butterflies were fluttering like mad in her stomach and heat was already gathering between her thighs at the mere sight of this perfect male specimen.

"A demon lord? _Nice_." The young man dressed as a vampire complimented.

"Impressive costume, matey." The pirate agreed. When Dantalion didn't respond right away, he continued speaking, but more slowly than before. "That was French before wasn't it? Do you speak English?" His voice rose in volume as he asked the last question.

A muscle beneath Dantalion's eye ticked in irritation. "Of course I know how to speak English." The demon replied in perfect English. Dantalion was able to speak _hundreds_ of languages after all. _Just who does this pathetic human think he's talking to?_

The young female giggled, as she looked Dantalion over before batting her long eyelashes flirtatiously at him. "A very handsome demon."

_Costume?_ Dantalion mused as he raked his hand back through his wavy black hair, and lowered his sword. _Ah, this must be some kind of human festival. Samhain, perhaps?_

"You three." Dantalion pointed his sheathed sword at them. "Pray tell, what day is it?" He asked, gritting his teeth slightly since he wasn't used to having to be so polite to mere humans.

The teens all looked at each other with amused expressions on their faces.

"Seriously? It's Halloween...but you obviously know that with the way you're dressed! Trying to stay in character? Role playing?" The vampire asked curiously with one eyebrow raised.

"Halloween." Dantalion repeated slowly. _Halloween must be a human festival where they dress up in strange costumes_. "As thanks for the information you have given me I will spare your lives. Consider yourselves lucky. You may continue on your way." He waved his hand at them in a dismissive gesture.

The teens laughed at that and began to walk away from Dantalion. _The boy seemed to think my attire was unusual for this era. Are there no warriors about? I will have to remedy this immediately._ The demon mused to himself as he stroked his chin in contemplation.

Dantalion continued to meander through Central Park until he exited and came to a sidewalk that was right next to a street. He glanced down and glared suspiciously at the sidewalk. The demon stomped his boot down against the perfectly flat surface. _How odd. It seems the humans have improved the process of making their streets and they are no longer cobbled._ Dantalion continued to hop up and down on the sidewalk before he finally contained himself. The demon looked up and took a single step back, shocked by what he was seeing in front of him.

These strange 'things' were speeding past him at an incredible speed (they were even faster than dragon mounts!) on what must have been a road of some kind. _Calm yourself Dantalion and think logically._ Dantalion observed the 'things' a moment longer and used his keen vision to see within the 'things'. He could instantly see that there were humans inside of the things. They didn't look trapped or afraid, so the only logical conclusion was...

_Ah, carriages._ Dantalion nodded, feeling proud of himself. _These must be modern-day carriages._ _Not bad, lowly humans._ The Duke of Hell was impressed. Though the same feat could have easily been accomplished by a demon using his demonic power or magic. Dantalion looked across the street. He needed to cross, and search for a library so that he could learn more about the world and the strange era he'd been awakened to.

That's when he saw her.

A young woman dressed in silver armor with closely cropped blonde hair, and a sword strapped to her side. "Jeanne?" Dantalion exclaimed as he watched her walk past on the other side of the street. The young woman was laughing and surrounded by a group of friends who were dressed strangely. Probably in costume.

Dantalion glared at the cars defiantly. "Nothing will stop me from confronting that wench about her betrayal! I'm not afraid of these pathetic human carriages!" The demon sneered as he began to stalk across the street and the cars continued to speed by.

A car was heading straight for him, but Dantalion merely turned and stretched out his left hand. "I command you to halt, pathetic human!"

The car honked and did not stop. Bright headlights headed Dantalion's way.

In that instant, someone gripped his arm and forcibly tugged him backwards. "Look out!" A concerned sounding, female voice shouted.

Dantalion fell backwards onto the sidewalk and ended up landing on top of the body of a human female. The female had somehow managed to pull him out of harm's way, but he wasn't grateful for it. Quite the contrary, he glared down at the human who'd dared to touch him.

It was a young woman. No, a nun. The nun was dressed in a pale blue dress with a white collar. The collar and dress were decorated with crosses. The nun wore a blue and white habit on her head, which hid her hair color. It was too dark out to see the color of the woman's eyes. The silver cross that was dangling around the nun's neck captured Dantalion's attention for a moment. It was an impressive piece and looked ancient. It was a cross of Lorraine and had two bars across the main one. Jeanne the Maid had worn a similar piece of jewelry more than five hundred years ago. _That cross...it couldn't be? Could it?_

The young human female let out a pained gasp and Dantalion realized that he was crushing the poor girl's chest.

Dantalion bit down on his tongue to stop the insults that wanted to fly out of his mouth. The demon had met a few nuns before and they always grew extremely angry if one cursed in front of them. He continued to stare down at the young woman and she stared up at him as if frozen in fear. This of course was _not_ unusual. Dantalion's mere presence had struck fear into the hearts of men and their armies.

The girl's dog, a majestic golden retriever, broke the spell that they seemed to be under when he began to bark and growl angrily at Dantalion.

Dantalion observed the girl's dog curiously. He'd never seen a dog quite like it before. It was a hundred pounds, and had glossy, golden-yellow fur. Dantalion was surprised to note that the dog had also been dressed in a costume. It was wearing a blue shirt with a red 'S' on it, and a small red cape.

_A mindless beast in a cape? How ridiculous._ Dantalion thought scathingly. _Humans clothe their pets now? What has the world come to?_ The demon quickly moved off of the young nun and apologized. "Forgive me...sister." He offered her his hand in order to assist her to her feet.

The nun looked at Dantalion with wide eyes as she took his hand and allowed him to help her up. As the nun looked Dantalion over her face paled. "You look so much like..." She quickly shook her head and gave Dantalion a bemused smile. "That's one hell of a costume! However." Her expression returned to its previously stern one. "Just what did you think you were doing?" The nun questioned as she stalked towards Dantalion and jabbed her finger into the demon's chest.

"Ow." The girl looked down at her finger in surprise. _That hurt!_ _What's this guy made out of?_ "Anyways...you could just wait for the walk signal to turn green, you know. What's wrong with you? Are you drunk?" She accused with a disgusted look on her face.

"Walk signal?" Dantalion murmured as he looked over to where the young woman had pointed. He saw a strange magical device that was flashing with the red image of a human before it changed to show the flashing image of a green human in the pose of walking. The human carriages stopped abruptly, and humans began to cross the street effortlessly. "I see." Dantalion caught sight of the young blonde woman in armor again but she was getting farther away. "I must go. In thanks for your assistance I will spare your life, sister." Dantalion rumbled distractedly before he took off running down the crosswalk after the girl in armor, leaving the startled nun behind.

Dantalion made it to the other side of the street and began to run down the sidewalk in the direction of the girl in armor and her group of friends. He reached her group in a matter of seconds and reached out to grab her shoulder, spinning her around to face him. "Jeanne?" Dantalion asked as he stared intently into the girl's face. "What are you doing here? Alive in this era?" He grabbed her upper arms and squeezed them tightly.

The female's eyes widened in fright and she screamed. "Someone, help me! This man...he's hurting me!"

Dantalion furrowed his brow in confusion at the panicking young human female. "Jeanne...it's me...Dantalion! There's no need to be afraid! But I must ask you...why did you betray me?"

The girl shook her head as tears came to her eyes. "I...don't know what you're talking about! Someone, help! This guy is crazy!"

"Police! Police! Over here! Help us!" The girl's friends called out.

A couple of nearby cops immediately ran over to assist the girl and her friends. The first cop to reach them placed his hand on Dantalion's shoulder and pulled him away from the girl. "Sir, I must ask you to unhand that young lady at once."

Dantalion spun around to face the two men in uniform. "How dare you touch me, you lowly human." The demon's hand went automatically for the sword at his hip.

The two cops responded in kind, drawing their guns, and pointing them at Dantalion.

"He's got a weapon!" One of the cops said with wide eyes.

"Wait! Sure it's not a prop?" His partner asked with a wary expression on his face. "This is why I hate Halloween. It's hard to tell the difference between civilians and real lunatics."

"Looks pretty damn real to me. Don't do it, kid." The first cop warned sternly with a dark scowl on his face.

That's when Dantalion remembered the lesser demon's words: _You can start by harvesting fear from some inferior humans by torturing them or killing them. All these things will restore your power and your true form instantly_. He could already feel the fear building inside of the surrounding humans and his demonic power was beginning to increase. _Damnation!_ If this continued horns would probably sprout out of the top of his head. Dantalion removed his hand from the hilt of his sword and put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. " _Mes excuses_ , I mean, my apologies, gentlemen."

The cops put their guns away and approached Dantalion. "It's okay, kid, but you're going to have to come with us. That sword of yours looks real, _and_ you assaulted that girl. For now, you'll have to come down to the station with us so that we can file a report."

Dantalion nodded, not knowing where the hell this so-called 'station' was. The cops handcuffed Dantalion and began to lead him to their own strange 'carriage'. They got inside and began to speed off down the road. Dantalion sighed at his current predicament. Until he knew more about this era he would continue to get himself into trouble like this. He'd gained a little demonic power back there and so decided to put it to good use.

"Gentlemen...look into my eyes." Dantalion commanded in his deep, baritone voice.

The two cops obeyed and looked into Dantalion's golden eyes. The demon Duke's eyes glowed as he began to use his hypnosis upon them. "Now, gentlemen, you will take me to the nearest library." He commanded with an imperious wave of his hand.

"As you wish, My Lord." The cops said in unison with blank looks on their faces.

A wicked smile curled Dantalion's lips. He then used his hypnosis to find out that the cops were 'keepers of the peace' in this city. Basically they were modern-day soldiers or the equivalent of city guards. He continued his interrogation to discover that the 'modern carriage' he was in was called a 'car'. Dantalion was also surprised to discover that he was no longer in France, but in a country called 'America' and in a city called 'New York City'.

Dantalion recalled the plaque he'd seen on the fig tree that he'd been sealed to and which read: _Gift of France_. Someone must have transported the tree from France to America, and planted the tree in the park. Apparently, the stage for the Apocalypse had changed from someplace in Europe to America. The amount of corruption inside of the city of New York must have been high for Lucifer to choose it.

The cops drove Dantalion to the nearest library and dropped him off. The library was closed, but for Dantalion it was an easy enough task to unlock the door with a burst of demonic power. The demon made his way inside of the library after that. The building was quite impressive and was larger than any library Dantalion had ever been inside before. The place had even more books than his old Master, King Solomon, had treasured during his reign circa 970 to 931 BC.

Dantalion immediately searched for books on world history. He needed to get back up to speed. He wanted to learn about everything he'd missed since the year 1429. The demon was a master in all arts and sciences, but apparently much had changed over the centuries.

Dantalion found several history books that looked interesting, and carried them over to a long wooden table. He dropped the books down onto the table, pulled a chair out for himself, took a seat, and began to read. The demon Duke read of the world's history from the year 1429 all the way until the present day 2014. He mostly concentrated on what had happened in France and what had happened in the country he was now in: America. A few hours into his studying, Dantalion stumbled across some rather unsettling information.

Dantalion's eyes scanned over the book page: _Saint Jeanne d'Arc, the Maid of Orléans, is a recognized Saint of the Roman Catholic Church. Although she was excommunicated and burned at the stake by local officials in 1431, Central Church officials later nullified her excommunication, declaring her a martyr who had been unjustly executed for a secular vendetta. Her legend grew from there, leading to her beatification in 1909 and her canonization in 1920._

_Excommunicated? Burned at the stake? No, no, no._ The blood drained from Dantalion's face and he sat back in his chair looking stunned. "But how...how is that possible? Jeanne was burned at the stake?" Dantalion scrubbed his hand down over his face. "That makes no sense. How could God have abandoned her?" He shook his head as he remembered the powerful, young woman, who wielded the holy sword of God.

Dantalion remembered the fierce battle Jeanne's army had fought against one of his legions. Jeanne had won the day. Well, she'd been winning the day until one of his men had shot her with an arrow. She'd fallen off her horse and right off a cliff. Dantalion had swiftly beheaded his own subordinate for interrupting his fight against Jeanne, and had soared over the cliff to fetch the Maid. Not to save her, of course, but so they could resume their battle. He recalled the surreal time they'd spent together after that. The demon shook his head to clear it of such thoughts.

Jeanne had been a loyal, faithful servant of God. She'd ultimately betrayed their 'truce' and 'friendship', and had sealed Dantalion to a sacred tree. Surely, God didn't see that as a betrayal? Why had God allowed Jeanne to be burned at the stake? Why had her visions stopped so suddenly? Why had her luck changed so drastically? Why had she fallen out of God's good graces? Dantalion's mind was spinning with questions and possibilities, and his temples began to throb.

Was it because of him? Had God known about their friendship? Had he disapproved? Had Jeanne paid the price? Alone? Dantalion dug his nails into his scalp at the thought. The demon Duke felt guilt twist his insides into knots. "God...I curse you once again for taking those who are dear to me." Dantalion growled aloud. "Damnation, if I'd been there I could have protected Jeanne. I would have killed all of the lowly humans who dared to harm her! But who...who was responsible for this?"

Dantalion continued his research about what had happened to Jeanne after she'd sealed him to that infernal tree. The demon discovered that King Charles VII had betrayed Jeanne. After Jeanne's defeat in Paris, Charles VII had refused to give her reinforcements for her army. As a result, the English-allied Burgundian faction easily captured Jeanne during a battle against the Burgundians. She was then handed over to the English, and put on trial by the pro-English Bishop of Beauvais, Pierre Cauchon, on a variety of bullshit charges.

While Jeanne awaited trial she'd been locked up in a tower. The thought of Jeanne being locked up in a prison cell somewhere, and being held there against her will made Dantalion furious. King Charles VII failed to pay Jeanne's ransom...and she was convicted and then burned at the stake.

_Jeanne was burned at the stake? For heresy?_ Dantalion tilted his head back and let out a roar of anger and frustration. It was utterly absurd. He grabbed the table in front of him and overturned it. "Foolish humans...how could they condemn an innocent girl to die like that? Especially, one so pure...so perfect...so strong. Damn them. Damn you, Charles. You're lucky you're dead or I'd have your head! No, first I'd torture you...drag out your death so that it would be slow and painful. It would be what you deserve."

The Duke of Hell was so enraged by what had happened to Jeanne that he went on a rampage inside of the library, and continued overturning tables and bookshelves throughout the building. He threw a few computer monitors down on the floor and one exploded. A fire started and the books began to catch on fire and burn.

The sight of the flames only made Dantalion even angrier. He could picture Jeanne in his mind...burning...the flesh melting off her lovely bones. Her terrified screams piercing the air. She must have been in so much pain.

_Destroy._ Dantalion thought as he watched everything begin to burn. He'd learned all he needed to know anyways. Or at least enough for now. The demon was sure anything else he could learn would only enrage him further. Humans were such foolish creatures. They were always burning or crucifying the only humans among them that had any merit.

Curls of black smoke hit the smoke detectors and the sprinkler system was activated inside of the library. The alarm blared nosily as Dantalion stomped his way out of the library. He kicked the front door open and exited, his cape billowing out behind him.

The demon began to walk down the sidewalk with swift steps and the exercise helped to cool his anger. The past was the past, and there was nothing he could do about what had happened to his Jeanne. Dantalion shook his head of such thoughts. He should hate Jeanne for her betrayal, but learning her history had only saddened and angered Dantalion.

As Dantalion began to think more clearly, the wheels in his mind began to turn. He deduced that he would need to create a human identity in order to begin his new life living as a human in this strange city. In order to do that he would need the proper identifications that he'd read about in the history books. He would need to procure a drivers license, which could be acquired at a place called a DMV, a passport and a Social Security number. If he went to the American Embassy and used his hypnosis he knew that he would be able to easily acquire the last two identifications that he would need.

However, all the places he needed to visit wouldn't be open until tomorrow morning. At that moment, Dantalion's stomach rumbled. He stopped and looked around his surroundings while trying to discover what had made the strange sound. His stomach rumbled again and he put a hand over his stomach. When his stomach rumbled a third time, he finally understood. He was hungry. Or rather, his now weak human body needed sustenance. _How bothersome._

Apparently, he needed to find food, and then shelter for the night or else he might freeze to death. _This weak human body is high maintenance._ Dantalion looked around him at the strange, tall buildings and bright, artificial lights. These were the modern-day dwellings of the humans. But after having done his research at the library, Dantalion understood that one needed _money_ to acquire such a dwelling. Dantalion's lack of money would also have to be rectified as soon as possible.

The demon knew that he could acquire free lodgings using his hypnosis but didn't want to waste the little demonic power he had left on such a task. Instead, he decided to find a temporary place to sleep for the night. Dantalion suddenly remembered the park he'd awakened in. He now knew that the name of the park was 'Central Park'. The demon remembered seeing several filthy, foul-smelling humans dressed in tattered clothing just sitting around or sleeping under the small bridge there. He now knew these people to be 'homeless'.

Dantalion's nose scrunched up at the thought of being considered 'homeless', but unfortunately that's exactly what he was at the moment. The park would have to do as a suitable place to spend the night. Dantalion made his way back to Central Park and entered. He walked through the park until he saw a large flock of pigeons pecking away at some birdseed on the ground.

_Ah, dinner._ Dantalion unsheathed his black-iron great sword and approached the flock of pigeons as quietly as he could. Just as he was almost upon them the flock noticed his presence and took off into the sky. The Duke of Hell sprang into action and charged forward with a battle cry. His sword flashed through the air as he stabbed pigeons through their bodies with quick, deadly jabs. One precise jab was all it took to fell a bird. Dantalion's movements were graceful as if he were dancing. The demon killed several of the elusive birds and the bodies of dead pigeons began to fall on the ground all around him. He killed twenty pigeons in all.

The demon swished his sword through the air to remove the blood from its blade before he sheathed it. That's when Dantalion could feel curious eyes upon him, but he ignored this as he collected his haul. He sat down upon the ground, cross-legged, and began to pluck and gut the birds with a dagger he'd pulled from his boot. Once Dantalion had finished preparing the birds, he pulled one of the birds into his lap, and ripped off a leg. Dantalion was about to sink his teeth into the raw pigeon meat, when-

A stranger called out to him. "Hold it right there, sonny boy," Came a gravely voice.

Dantalion turned to see a middle-aged man hobbling towards him. Dantalion deduced the man to be around sixty years of age. He had white hair, an unkempt white beard, and was wearing tattered clothes. The human had a slight limp, and gripped a crudely made wooden cane in his right hand. The man's left arm ended in a metal hook instead of a hand.

The human jabbed and snatched the pigeon leg out of Dantalion's hand with his hook before the demon could react. "You can't eat _that_." The homeless man objected, waving the pigeon leg at Dantalion.

Dantalion stood using his full height of six-five to intimidate the man as he glared down at him. "How dare you steal my food, you lowly human? Normally, I would have beheaded you instantly." The demon crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Consider yourself lucky that my circumstances have recently changed." _My curiosity for what it would be like to live as a human currently outweighs anything else. I can't help but wonder how things might have been had I been born a human like Jeanne, and we'd met under more normal circumstances. Would we have fallen in love? Gotten married? Had a family?_

The man's broken laughter cut through Dantalion's strange thoughts. "Oh? Are you going to kill me with that sword of yours? I watched you as you killed those pigeons. That was pretty impressive." He gave Dantalion an expectant look as if he expected Dantalion to explain how he'd managed to do that.

Dantalion shrugged. "I was in...the army." This wasn't exactly a lie either. Dantalion had been a commander of demonic legions for as far back as he could remember. "I excel in the art of killing."

Instead of looking frightened by Dantalion's declaration the man looked bemused. "I see. I was in the military too." The man stroked his beard thoughtfully before spreading his arms wide. "If you want to kill me - go right ahead. I don't have much to live for anyways."

Dantalion removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. This human was not afraid of death. He had to respect that. "What do you want, human?" The demon growled in a low voice. He was growing impatient.

"If you're so desperate to eat those birds...you need to cook them first. They'll end up tasting much better! Bring your birds and come with me. I know just where to go." The man quickly explained with a glint in his pale blue eyes before turning and slowly hobbling away.

Dantalion hesitated but eventually his curiosity got the better of him. Letting out an aggravated huff the demon stalked after the old man and closed the distance between them with a few strides.

"Hey, so what's your name, sonny boy?" The man asked in a light-hearted tone once Dantalion had reached him.

"Dantalion."

The man looked behind him and raised a bushy eyebrow at the strange youth. "That's quite a mouthful. Why don't I just call you...Dante? I'm Fred, by the way. You have an accent...are you French?"

A muscle beneath Dantalion's eye ticked. The impertinence of this man was unbelievable. How dare this lowly human shorten his name? And apparently his English was not perfect. This irritated Dantalion immensely. But, perhaps, he could use the guise of being a foreigner to his advantage. "Yes, I'm French."

Fred nodded knowingly. "I see, I see. Maybe it's normal for French people to eat raw pigeons. They do eat frogs and snails!" He chuckled to himself in amusement.

Dantalion decided not to comment. The demon followed Fred to a different area of the park where several homeless people were huddled around metal trashcans that had fires burning within them for warmth.

"Hey guys!" Fred greeted the others casually. "Lookie what I have here. It's a newcomer and he's brought food! Let's cook up these here...chickens! They're fresh."

_Chickens?_ Dantalion mused. He knew what a chicken was and the birds he'd killed were most certainly _not_ chickens. He shrugged. There must have been a reason why Fred chose to lie about the type of fowl he'd procured.

"Hey Fred, honey," a plump woman dressed in a purple, flower-print dress greeted while giving Dantalion a curious, sidelong look. She did a double take as she stared at the handsome demon. "Fred...have you been drinking again? Why did you bring him here? He's obviously not...one of us."

Dantalion stiffened at the woman's keen words. Had he been found out already? Was this old woman a witch? Did she know his true form? His eyes narrowed at the woman and he paid her a little more attention. The woman was probably around the same age as Fred. Her mousy brown hair had gray streaks in it, and had been pulled back into a tight bun. There were age lines around her eyes. Her eyes were filled with sadness, regret and fear. This woman had obviously suffered greatly in her life.

Fred frowned at his wife. "Hilda, I don't know if the kid's homeless or not, but...he's definitely in need. He's starving. He was about to eat those...chickens _raw_. So let's help him out with cooking his chickens first. After that we'll see about the rest."

Hilda looked at the bundle of twenty birds in Dantalion's arms. "They're a little small for chickens. But I suppose you're right. Alright, young man, bring those birds over here. We'll spit them on sticks and roast them over these here fires."

Dantalion nodded and approached Hilda. Together they spitted all of the birds and soon had them roasting over the fires. The demon couldn't fail but notice the hungry looks his 'chickens' were getting from the other homeless people. He sighed. _Pathetic humans...they can't even catch their own dinner?_

"When they're ready...do help yourself gentlemen and of course ladies." Dantalion drawled obligingly to the group of homeless people that were huddling around the trashcans. He was surprised at himself for being so...nice. Being nice to the humans was much easier than it should have been. But if he was going to be living amongst the humans he needed to fit in and 'play nice'. It was only the wisest course of action.

"YEAH!" "Whoo!" "Yes!" "Food! Oh, thank God!" "God bless you." "God has sent us a savior!" "No, an angel." The homeless people burst out with various loud exclamations.

_Angel?_ This time a muscle in Dantalion's jaw ticked. _How ironic_.

When Lucifer ordered him to kill all of the people in this city later on...he would do it because he was Lucifer's pawn, a Great Duke of Hell, a warrior, a killer. In France he and his legions of demons had wiped out several villages until Jeanne d'Arc had stopped his demonic army. After that, the Apocalypse had been postponed once more. But now a new stage for the Apocalypse had been set, and this country of 'America' was where everything would begin.

He would kill all of these pathetic humans without a thought later on because he'd just be following orders. That was what war was all about...mindless slaughter. Dantalion's thoughts were tinged with a bitterness he didn't understand. He couldn't get over the irony of these humans that he would probably later kill calling him things like: 'God sent'. _God has clearly abandoned these people. Just as he abandoned Jeanne d'Arc._ The thought made Dantalion want to take these people under his wing of protection suddenly. _Such a strange thought._

"Hardly." Dantalion objected gruffly as he tore off a now cooked pigeon leg and took a bite out of it. The meat was succulent and only slightly tough. He was incredibly hungry though, so he thought it tasted delicious. _Now I understand the human saying of hunger is the greatest spice._

As they all began to eat together the homeless people continued to thank Dante for his gift and he was surprised by how happy they all looked. It was a strange feeling...being surrounded by humans and for them to be 'accepting' him. They weren't running from him in fear or yelling out things like: "It's a demon!" "Run for your lives!" "Oh no...it's a monster!" "Someone please help me!" Strange indeed.

Fred put a hand on Dantalion's shoulder. "You okay, sonny boy? You look pale."

Dantalion shrugged the hand off his shoulder. "Of course, I'm okay...why wouldn't I be?" He snapped. "Tell me, old man, why do all these people live like this? Aren't we currently in America? The great country known as the Land of the Free? It's supposed to be a rich and prosperous land...but if that is true then why are there still 'homeless'? Shouldn't everyone here be living the 'American Dream'?"

Fred blinked back at Dantalion in shock before he began to laugh bitterly. "It's unusual for a kid your age to be worried about these things. Appearance is not always truth, kid. Yes, this is a beautiful, rich country filled with opportunity, but...it's not like that for everyone. There's a great divide in this country between the very rich and the very poor. There's barely a middle class anymore. Recently, the rich keep getting richer and poor keep getting poorer."

"A common occurrence among all human civilizations. Go on." Dantalion was interested in the state of affairs in this country that he'd been transported to.

Fred looked pleased that Dantalion was actually paying attention to what he was saying. He got lonely since the other homeless people would tire of his political rants, opinions on current events and conspiracy theories. "It's a pity but this amazing country still has things like unemployment, homeless people and orphans, but the news never talks about things like that. The news likes to distract people from what's really going on inside of their own country by controlling them with their fear. That's why the news is always concentrating on crimes, diseases, the war overseas, or natural disasters."

"Oh boy, here he goes again." Hilda rolled her eyes at Fred. "Careful Dante, once you getting him going, he won't stop for hours!"

_Fear?_ Dantalion mused to himself. This was something he'd used countless times before to manipulate humans and bring them to their knees as well. "From what I've seen a government's policies usually reflect the population's fears."

Fred nodded eagerly in agreement. "Everything's about terrorism these days. But the truth is the truth. They say we're out of the recession, but if that were true then why did all of the people here lose their jobs and homes?" Fred waved his hand at the group of homeless people.

"Indeed." Dante agreed as he stroked his chin in thought

"These folks were all normal, hardworking people until they lost everything, but no one cares. No one does anything to help us. We're probably just an eyesore to the people living in this city. If they could legally get rid of us...they probably would." Fred's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"You're forgetting about _her_." Hilda spoke up. "She comes here at least once a week and brings us food whenever she can."

"Ah, yes...there is _her_." Fred agreed with a solemn nod and a crooked smile.

Now Dantalion was curious. "Her?"

"Joan." Fred revealed. And Dantalion's heart skipped a beat at the name. "Joan Simone. She's a famous tennis player. She even won a Golden Slam!"

"Golden Slam?" Dantalion tilted his head to the side.

"Ah, do you know much about tennis?" Fred asked and Dantalion shook his head in response. "Well...the Grand Slam tournaments are the most important annual tennis events. There are four of them. If you win all four tournaments, and manage to get yourself a gold medal at the Olympics as well you have won a 'Golden Grand Slam'."

"Impressive." Dantalion recalled reading about the sport tennis very briefly. It reminded him of ' _jeu de paume_ ' or 'game of the palm' that he used to play with his men back in France over five hundred years ago. But the sport had been modernized and now people used rackets and not the palms of their hands to hit the ball.

"She had a bright career ahead of her until the accident." Hilda said sadly and her eyes began to tear up.

"Accident?" Dantalion's interest was again piqued and his interest in a human female surprised him.

"She was in a car accident. Her rival hit her car from behind and Joan broke her leg. Her rival wasn't so lucky and died in the accident. After that Joan wasn't able to move fast enough to keep playing tennis. The poor dear, having to give up her dream. I wonder what she's doing now." Hilda said as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Joan Simone." Dantalion echoed before he put his face in his hand. What the hell was he thinking? Just because the girl's last name was French didn't mean that she had any connection whatsoever to Jeanne d'Arc. Jeanne died five hundred and eighty-four years ago. She'd been burned at the stake. Joan was a common name now in this era. In fact, there were probably _millions_ of Joans and Jeannes. Dantalion finished eating and watched as the others finished their meal as well.

A young man, who was probably no older than thirteen, brought out a strange looking trunk that was red and white. Hilda opened it to reveal that there were strange looking containers and glass bottles inside that appeared to have been kept cold. In fact, the device was filled with ice. Dantalion couldn't help but be impressed that the ice was not melting. _What a strange contraption._

Hilda took out a can of Coca-Cola and tossed it to Dantalion. He caught it out of reflex and discovered that the can was indeed cold. Hilda threw one to Fred, which he fumbled to catch with his one good hand.

"Geez woman! A little consideration might be nice." Fred complained. He opened his can of coke and raised it up towards Dantalion. "Cheers! To new friends. Or um... _à votre santé_ , right?"

_Friend? No one has ever called me that before._ Dantalion mimicked how Fred had opened the can and raised it. " _À votre santé_."

Fred brought the can to his lips and drank heartily. "Ah! There's nothing better than Coca-Cola!"

Dantalion brought the can to his lips and took a sip. His eyes widened at the strange fizzy sensation, and the sweet, but not overly sweet taste. He looked down at the can in astonishment. "This beverage is quite good." His surprise was evident. _The humans managed to invent such an interesting drink. Perhaps, there's hope for them yet._

Hilda looked amused by Dantalion's obvious appreciation of the can of soda and tittered. "You're acting like you've never had a Coca-Cola before! Trying to stay true to that medieval costume of yours, young man?"

"He's French." Fred said, by way of explanation.

"Ah. That's explains _everything_." Hilda nodded knowingly to herself. It was normal for Europeans to be a little eccentric.

"Coca-Cola." Dantalion repeated. Human beverages were truly amazing. "Fred. Is there anything else similar to this Coca-Cola, but different?"

"Uh...sure, we have different flavors of soda. Orange soda, Sprite, 7-Up, Dr. Pepper..." Fred trailed off.

"Bring them to me." Dantalion ordered firmly.

"Er," Fred hesitated and shot the young man a questioning look.

Dantalion met the man's eyes and repeated the command. "I said: bring all of the human beverages to me so I can sample them at once!"

"U-Understood, Dante." Fred stammered as he rushed over to the cooler and selected one of each drink that was inside. With an armful of beverages, Fred returned to Dantalion's side. He set the drinks on the ground before the demon. "Here you go, kid."

Dantalion was already reaching out to pick up a can of orange soda. He opened the can and took a sip. His eyes widened. "Delicious." He opened a can of Dr. Pepper next and tried it. "Superb." He tried Pepsi, 7-Up, Gatorade, Red Bull, Beer, Rum, and Vodka. Some of the alcoholic beverages, he recognized. After all, beverages like wine and rum had existed in France in the 1400s.

Fred chuckled at the young man's enthusiasm for the beverages. It took him back. He used to be just as enthusiastic about drinks...or rather in the art of mixing them. "Hey, kid. Try combining rum and coke in your mouth." Fred suggested with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Dantalion raised an eyebrow at Fred. "Rum and...Coca-Cola? That would be an absurd combination!"

"Just try it, kid. Trust me." Fred urged with a huff.

Dantalion shrugged and tilted his head back before pouring some rum and some coke into his mouth. He swished the two drinks together and swallowed. His eyes widened. That had been surprisingly _good_. Really good. "That tasted good, old man." Dantalion conceded grudgingly. Dantalion hated being wrong about anything.

Fred smiled knowingly. "That drink is called a Cuba Libre."

"Cuba Libre." Dantalion repeated. "Do you know of any other 'drinks' or 'drink combinations' that I should try, old man?"

Fred scratched his head and a flea jumped off. "Well, sadly our selection here is quite limited but...try a Vodka Red Bull. Just...use that bottle of Absolut Vodka over there and that can of Red Bull." He directed as he pointed at the Absolut bottle with his hook and then the small can of Red Bull.

Dantalion nodded and sampled this drink next. "How fascinating." _These human beverages are incredible. The combinations of the drinks create such interesting flavors._ "Fred. I wish to learn more. I want to know more about...these human beverages. And how to make them. Teach me." The demon gave Fred an expectant look.

Fred's eyes widened in surprise before his expression softened. "You don't want to know about how to make 'beverages'. You want to know how to become a bartender. You want to learn how to make cocktails, martinis, and shooters."

Dantalion had no idea what any of those things were, but nodded. "Yes, Fred. Teach me."

Fred grinned a toothy smile showing the gaps in his teeth. "Then I have just the book for you. It will tell you all you need to know to be a proper bartender and all of the drinks a bartender should memorize." The old man ran off and entered a pitched tent. He returned a moment later with a dusty book. He smoothed his hand over the cover to lovingly remove any lingering dirt before he handed it to Dantalion. "This book taught me everything I know."

Dantalion took the book, the title read: _The Ultimate Bar Book_ by Mittie Hellmich. He gave Fred a curious look. "Old man, you were a bartender?"

Fred puffed up his chest with pride. "Yes, well, I started out as a bartender, and later I opened up my own restaurant."

"What is a bartender considered to be in this era?" Dantalion asked, needing clarification. Obviously, bartenders had existed in the 1400s but perhaps their role had changed somewhat.

Fred faltered. "Er...an artist who mixes alcoholic drinks at a bar."

"A drink artist." Dantalion mused aloud and a smile curled his lips. The demon had always had a thing for the arts. And he liked that the process of mixing drinks had become much more complex than he remembered. "I see. Why did you stop being a bartender?"

Fred held up his hook. "When the military sent me overseas to Afghanistan I lost my hand during a battle. When I returned I wasn't able to learn how to cook one-handed fast enough, and my restaurant went down the tubes. Now I can cook one-handed pretty easily but...it's too late. It's difficult to mix drinks with only one arm too, and no one would hire me anyways because I would just scare the customers away with my appearance. That's how I ended up like...this." Fred waved his hook around the homeless camp, obvious sadness and regret in his gruff voice.

Dantalion sat down on the ground, cross-legged, and began to read. All through the night the demon read uninterrupted for five hours straight. He was so into his book that no one had the heart to disturb him.

At around five o'clock in the morning Dantalion finished reading the bartending book and shut it. The sound of the book snapping shut awoke Fred, who had been nearby dozing on and off. "Already finish the book, kid?"

_Kid?_ Dantalion was thousands of years old. He would normally kill someone for such an insult but...he was feeling extremely accommodating lately. "Yes."

"What did you think of it?" Fred could not hide his obvious excitement to know Dantalion's opinion.

"It was...fascinating." The demon admitted. "Several of these beverages I have never heard of, nor have I tried before. I am..." Dantalion searched for the word to best explain what he was feeling. "Excited to get to try them all."

Fred nodded in understanding. "You'll have to read it a few more times to truly memorize it...and that's only if you have an interest in becoming a bartender."

"I have already memorized the book." Dantalion assured.

Fred blinked. "Eh? You're pulling my leg, right, kid?"

Dantalion smirked. "Test me, old man."

"Hmph." Fred's bushy brows rose to his hairline. "Okay...then tell me, kid, how do you make a Mojito?"

"Place two teaspoons of sugar, eight mint leaves and a little club soda into a highball glass. Stir well to release the sugar and mint flavor. Squeeze the juice from two halves of one halved lime into the glass. Drop one half of the lime into the glass. Add two ounces of light rum and stir. Fill the glass with ice cubes, add club soda to the glass, and garnish with a sprig of mint." Dantalion repeated the instructions that had been inside of the book, word for word.

Fred nearly fell over. "Okay. That was an easy one. How about a Tequila Sunrise?"

"Pour two ounces of tequila and four ounces of orange juice into a highball glass with ice cubes. Stir. Slowly pour half an ounce of grenadine around the inside edge of the glass. It will sink and slowly rise to mix with the other ingredients naturally. Garnish with a slice of orange and a Maraschino cherry."

"Margarita?"

"Pour one and a half ounces of tequila, half an ounce of triple sec, and one ounce fresh lime juice into a cocktail shaker with ice cubes. Shake well. If desired, salt the rim of a chilled margarita glass. Pour the contents with ice into the glass. Garnish with a lime wedge."

Fred put a hand to his head. Perhaps, the young man was a prodigy. "Foreigners really are something else. I don't think us Americans have brains that work quite like that. Okay, kid, so...what are you planning to do while you're here in New York?"

"I'm going to become the greatest bartender in this city." Dantalion deadpanned with a glint in his golden eyes. If there was anything Dantalion liked - it was a challenge. It made the blood flow through his veins and gave him a rush.

Fred fell over.

To be continued in... _Drink 2:_ Screaming Orgasm

Dantalion: "Hello, lowly human, so you wish to know how to make a Dark and Stormy do you? Well, it is not for the faint of heart. You build the following ingredients in a highball glass (otherwise known as a tall glass) filled with ice cubes: 2 ounces of Gosling's Black Seal Rum, and 3 ounces Barrit's ginger beer. Garnish the drink with a lime wedge. Enjoy."

### Chapter 2: Screaming Orgasm

Joan Simone watched the strange man dressed up like the Great Duke of Hell, Dantalion, run away from her and across the street. "Wow...he really did look a lot like Dantalion." She felt an unexpected pang in her chest at the thought. "Didn't he, Michael?" Joan turned to address her dog.

Michael was still barking and growling in Dantalion's direction. The dog looked to his left and right before grabbing onto Joan's dress with his maw and tugging her off the sidewalk.

"What's the matter, Michael?" Joan asked, and her brow furrowed. She allowed her dog to pull her into a more secluded area of the park. The dog looked around again to make sure no one was nearby before he opened his mouth to speak.

"Joan, you fool. That _was_ Dantalion! He's finally shown himself...that slippery bastard! You must go after him." Michael exclaimed in a rough voice.

Joan blinked down at her dog. She wasn't surprised that her dog was speaking, however. This was perfectly normal. Well, normal for her anyways. Her golden retriever was actually a guardian angel in disguise. "You're kidding, right? That was really Dantalion?" Joan mused aloud, a wistful note to her voice.

Michael noticed that wistful tone and growled low in his throat in response. That damned demon had already caused Joan to fall out of God's good graces once. He would not allow that to happen again!

There was a reason why Joan was hesitating. The memories of Joan's past life were still unclear to her, but...she remembered Dantalion. And she remembered _enough_ to doubt Michael's claim that Dantalion was a being of _pure_ evil, and that if she ever encountered him again that she needed to destroy him immediately.

Michael looked like he was trying to raise an eyebrow at her. Well, as much as a dog can raise his eyebrow anyways. Joan sighed, realizing she didn't really have a choice. The life she was currently living was her 'second chance' to redeem herself of her past sins.

Joan's best friend, Kimberley Eden, was going to be _so_ mad at her for ditching her _again_. She was always blowing her friends off at odd times because of her 'part-time job' of killing invisible lesser demons that apparently New York City was infested with.

Most demons were in Hell where they belonged, but the smaller lesser demons and minions were sometimes able to slip through the _cracks_ in the wall that kept demons in Hell, and travel to Earth to terrorize and possess humans. Other demonic spirits that Joan was charged with exorcizing and sending to Hell were the dead Nephilim. The Nephilim were the spawn of angels that fell in love with human women and married them during the days of Noah. Because the Nephilim were a race of evil giants God sent the flood to wipe them out. Now, those dead hybrids, half-angel half-human spirits wandered about New York City while trying to possess human bodies.

Joan let out a heavy sigh thinking about how simple things would be if her dog never revealed that he could talk, was her guardian angel, and that she was the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. After that he'd given her Jeanne's silver cross, which had awakened the memories of her past life and given her supernatural powers that enabled her to exorcise demons.

Joan just wished things could return to normal. Before the accident, when a car had her hit hers from behind resulting in breaking her leg, Joan had been a professional tennis player. And she'd been damned good at it too. She'd always been good at wielding things and a tennis racket was no exception. She'd won countless tournaments and had even managed to win a Golden Grand Slam for herself. But now with the slight limp in her right leg, her dreams of playing tennis professionally had been shattered. It was around this time that her dog started talking to her.

If only she didn't remember her past life, she could try and live a normal life. She wouldn't be God's Chosen Warrior, who was supposedly in charge of protecting this entire city from invisible demons and evil spirits that no one believed in anymore. She saved people's lives on a daily basis and never got so much as a 'thank you' for it. It kind of sucked.

These lesser demons were invisible to the human eye, possessed humans, and made them do things. Horrible things. For example, there was a man who'd dressed up as the Joker and opened fire at a midnight screening of _The Dark Knight Rises_ at a movie theater. He'd been demon possessed and managed to kill twelve people. That's why the young man's friends had been so surprised by his sudden behavioral change. Joan exorcized the demon afterwards but it was already too late. The damage had been done.

Another case of demonic possession had involved two bombers that had set a bomb off at the Boston Marathon. One of the men had been demon possessed and the demon had been a pain to exorcise. The young man's friends had told the authorities that he'd been a nice, normal young man, and in the end he'd begged to die when he'd regained control of his body for a few seconds.

Then there was the demon possessed gunman who walked into LAX and pulled out an assault rifle. He opened fire and killed a Transportation Security Administration agent and wounded several others at the airport. Unfortunately, demon possessed individuals could do a lot of damage. And it wasn't like Joan could teleport from one city to another in order to exorcise demons. So most of the time she ended up going to the locations of where a demon possessed incident occurred, exorcized the demon responsible for the damage, and then returned home.

Michael had warned Joan that since they were now living in the End of Days, that things were only going to get worse with more and more people getting demon possessed, and lashing out in seemingly random or unexpected acts of violence. But since people didn't believe in demons and magic anymore they had forgotten how to protect themselves against demons.

Michael taught Joan that the best ways to combat demons was with prayer, the crucifix, holy water, salt, and taking communion on a regular basis. A person could also get rid of a demon by simply saying: 'In the name of Jesus Christ, I command you to begone, demon!' However, this didn't work all the time if the person lacked sufficient faith.

The only people who were supposed to perform exorcisms were priests and those exorcisms needed to be performed on hollowed ground. The priest would need to accept that the power to exorcise demons did not come from himself but Christ. Pride was an exorcist's downfall.

Michael had gone on to explain how in these days, there were more and more atheists - the perfect prey for lesser demons and evil spirits apparently since they had no divine protection against them. Michael had called those people: _easy prey_. And so it was Joan's job to protect them.

According to Michael's information network, there was a demon in New York City that was gating in more and more lesser demons. If what Michael said was true and the man she'd just see really was Dantalion then there was no question about what his true intentions were. Dantalion must be the one gating in demons and if that were true...Joan needed to track Dantalion down, kill him, and thereby redeem herself in the eyes of God.

Joan ran across the street in the direction she'd seen Dantalion go. She continued down the sidewalk and looked around for any sign of the elusive demon, but could find none. That's when she caught sight of a young woman dressed up like Jeanne d'Arc ironically enough. The young woman was crying while her group of friends, who were also in costume, stood around and comforted her.

Joan approached the group and looked at the young woman in concern. Her stomach felt like it was tying itself up into knots. Had Dantalion harmed this young woman? She wondered. "Excuse me...are you alright?" Joan held her breath as she awaited the girl's answer.

The teary-eyed young woman looked up, met Joan's green eyes, and sniffled. "Yea."

"I'm sorry but would you mind telling me what happened here? I'm searching for someone... _suspicious_. A tall, muscular man with dark hair, golden eyes, and a cloak. This I going to sound stupid but...he looks like a demon prince."

The girl's eyes widened in recognition and her expression turned fearful. "That's him! That's the man who attacked me!"

"Attacked you?" Joan felt the knots inside of her stomach grow even tighter.

The girl nodded. "Yes...I was just minding my own business when that guy grabbed onto me, and began to ask me all sorts of strange questions. Like what I was doing here and why I'd betrayed him. He was completely crazy!"

Joan sucked in a breath at the girl's words. "He really asked you that? He asked why _you_ betrayed _him_?"

The girl nodded and gave Joan a confused look. "Yea, that's what I just said. He also said that I didn't need to be afraid. He acted like I should know him. He said his name was Dantalion."

"Dantalion." Joan breathed. _So it's true then. He's really here. But how? Why?_

Michael growled low in his throat.

The girl's eyes narrowed at Joan suspiciously. "Do you know him or something?"

Joan was snapped out of her thoughts by the girl's sudden accusatory tone. "Ah, yes, he's an escaped mental patient. I've been charged with bringing him back to the church. Don't worry. I'll retrieve him and get him off the streets as soon as I can find him." Joan assured the girl with a strained smile. She'd just made up a load of crap but hopefully that girl would believe it.

The suspicion immediately left the girl's eyes. "Ah, but...the police took him." She explained helpfully.

"Police?" Joan had a really bad feeling about this.

"Yes...two cops came over and helped me." The girl's look turned a little dreamy as she remembered how the young cops had rushed to her rescue. She realized that she should have asked for their number, but at the time she'd been too terrified of Dantalion to be thinking about things like that. "They arrested him and took him away in their car."

Joan gave the girl a skeptical look. "You're saying Dantalion let himself be arrested?"

The girl nodded and looked offended that Joan didn't believe her. "Yes...but it was terrifying! He began to unsheathe his sword and for a moment I really thought he was going to attack those cops! The look that was in his golden eyes..." The girl shuddered as she recalled that murderous stare. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

Joan looked down at her dog and raised an eyebrow at him. "So Dantalion let himself be arrested." She repeated for Michael's benefit.

The girl nodded giving Joan an irritated look as she flipped her short hair. "Yea, that's what I just said. He was even handcuffed."

"Handcuffed, huh? Which way did they go?" Joan demanded as she turned her attention back to the girl dressed up like her past self. That still kind of creeped her out.

"That way, towards the station." The girl pointed down the street.

Joan nodded. "Thank you." She took off running down the sidewalk before realizing there was no way she'd be able to catch up to the car in her 'human form'. Joan ducked behind a tree and looked around to make sure no one was watching her before she clasped the silver cross that was dangling around her neck.

Joan took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and summoned the cross' power. "Transform...Jeanne d'Arc!" The cross began to glow brightly with a pure, warm, golden light and then she began to transform. Her costume morphed into shinning, golden armor, and a glowing, golden, double-edged, medieval sword materialized at her hip. She also became invisible to the human eye. A halo of soft, yellow light was enveloping her body.

After that Joan's dog, Michael, transformed too. The golden retriever increased in size until he was six hundred pounds. Two white, feathery wings emerged from the dog's back and flared impressively. The dog also became invisible. In this form Joan was able to ride Michael and he could fly her wherever she needed to go.

Joan quickly mounted Michael and gripped his fur with her hands. "Let's go Michael." She said and Michael took off running down the sidewalk. With a flap of his wings they shot up into the sky and soared over the nearby buildings. It wasn't long before they saw smoke rising in the distance. A feeling of absolute dread washed over Joan at the mere sight of that smoke. She hated fire. Feared fire with every fiber of her being. "What's that?"

"It's coming from the direction of the library." Michael informed her. "We'll go take a closer look." Before Joan could object Michael began to fly towards the rising smoke. He turned a corner and they came face to face with the library. The entire building was on fire. Its windows had shattered and wicked red flames were already climbing out of the windows and licking the exterior walls.

"It's on fire." Joan murmured. At that moment, there was another explosion causing more windows to shatter. Sharp glass shards were sent flying through the air and more flames burst from the windows. She flinched. The flames suddenly mesmerized her. Those scorching, hot, merciless, red, orange and yellow flames...

As she watched, the heat seemed to increase all around her. She could almost feel the flames licking her skin...slowly burning the flesh off her bones.

She was tied to a stake. God had forsaken her and no one was coming to her rescue. All because she'd fallen in love with a handsome demon and had refused to kill him. But...she would not forsake her belief in God to save herself. She would accept God's punishment for her sin of loving a demon and she would burn.

The wood beneath her was set on fire and began to blaze. The flames crept up the wood and began to catch the bottom of her dress on fire. Slowly, the flames began to consume her entire outfit and once the material of her dress was burned away the flames concentrated on what was left - her flesh.

The pain of having her flesh burned off her bones...was excruciating. And she had been awake for far longer than she wished. She should have cried out for God's help but the last thought in her mind was none other than the demon who had placed her there: Dantalion! She looked down at her arm and could see her own bone. That was the last thing she remembered seeing before darkness enveloped her.

More than five centuries later and the memory of being burned alive was still fresh in Joan's mind. Some parts of the memory of her past life were still blurry, but unfortunately she remembered her own demise as if it had happened yesterday. Anytime Joan saw fire or was near it she was plunged into that horrible memory and consumed by it.

That's why Joan froze up in terror as she watched the burning library. Her green eyes reflected the violent flames. Joan gripped her head with her two hands and let out a bloodcurdling scream. After that, she fainted, no longer able to handle the memory of being burned alive. She ended up falling sideways and fell right off of Michael's back. She was falling...falling...to the ground.

"Joan!" Michael swooped down after her and managed to catch her so that she landed on his back. Michael landed and looked around for a place to set Joan down that was out of the way so that pedestrians wouldn't step on her invisible body. Having found a nice secluded spot behind a tree that was on the library lawn, Michael set Joan down on the ground gently. He shook his head at the unconscious girl. He should have known better than to get her that close to the flames. _Some guardian angel I am._ Michael berated himself and guilt made his stomach tighten.

A few hours later, Joan awoke to her dog, Michael, licking her face. "Ugh, Michael, don't do that. _Yuck_." She quickly sat up and pushed her dog off of her. Joan looked around and tried to remember what had just happened. "Where am I?" Well, obviously she could tell that she was hidden behind a tree. She stood up and peered around the tree to see several fire trucks parked out front of a now smoking library. Thankfully the fire had already been put out. She let out a sigh of relief and shuddered. _That's right, the fire._ She remembered and wrapped her arms around her still trembling body. She hated how weak she was around fire. Before she remembered her past life Joan never used to have a problem with fire but now...

"You really need to do something about your fear of fire." Michael chided her. "What's going to happen if the demons discover your weakness and use it against you?" His tone was chiding but Joan could also hear the worry in his tone. "And because you fainted we lost track of Dantalion."

Joan put a hand to her forehead and groaned. "Sorry." She looked down at her watch, it read: three o'clock AM. "Crap...I missed Kimberley's Halloween party. She's going to _kill_ me." She let out a disappointed sigh. "I really wanted to go to that too. This is all your fault Dantalion!" It was nice to blame things on the demon.

"We could still continue our search for him." Michael suggested and Joan could tell he was excited by the prospect. Michael was a total workaholic. If he had things his way Joan would be tracking down and exorcising demons and evil spirits 24-7 aka she'd have no life. Joan gave Michael an exasperated look. "I'm tired. I just want to go home and crash."

Michael did not look pleased with Joan's decision but eventually let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, fine. Tomorrow though we shall resume our search for that wretched demon."

"Yea, yea." Joan agreed as she hopped onto Michael's back. "Let's go home."

When Michael felt Joan grip the hair on the back of his neck he ran forward, flapped his wings, and took off into the sky. They soared past several skyscrapers on the way back to Joan's apartment building. Even though it was already three o'clock in the morning there were still several people dressed in their Halloween costumes walking on the sidewalks. New York City was 'the city that never sleeps' after all.

Just as they were passing an Irish pub the strangest thing happened. Michael suddenly sensed a malevolent presence and immediately came to a halt. He flapped his wings so that they flew backwards and away from the pub's front window.

"Michael, what the hell?" Joan asked as she gripped on for dear life. "What is-" Her words died in her throat as a horse suddenly burst through the front window. The horse was enormous with a glossy, black coat and glowing, red eyes. A woman wearing a dark green, velvet gown was riding the horse. There were only two problems with this. One, the woman was dead. Joan could tell that she was a ghost due to her semi-transparent body. And two, the woman had no head.

Before Joan could decide if the ghost woman was an evil spirit that needed to be exorcised the headless horsewoman had ridden quite a ways away down the sidewalk in a clatter of hooves. "Was that...?" Joan murmured.

"A headless horsewoman?" Michael asked. "Yes. That was a dullahan."

"Do we need to exorcise her?" Joan asked with a frown on her face.

"It's Halloween, Joan. It's normal for evil spirits to be out and about, you know." Michael told her in a dry tone.

Joan rolled her eyes at the Archangel. "I know that. But...is a headless horsewoman a normal kind of spirit?" She couldn't help but be impressed by the dullahan.

"Just leave her be, Joan. Your mission is to exorcise demons not ghosts. Let's go home." Without further ado Michael took another route to Joan's apartment building.

Joan was glad that Michael hadn't forced her to go after that creepy evil spirit. There had been something intimidating about that headless horsewoman, and Joan really didn't want to mess with her. It didn't take long for them to arrive at her apartment building. Michael landed on the balcony of Joan's top floor apartment. The apartment building was nice, but the only reason she was able to afford such a nice place was because of the prize money she'd gotten from winning those tennis tournaments. Unfortunately, her savings had been dwindling down pretty fast, now that she was unemployed.

Joan realized that if she wanted to keep her nice apartment that she'd have to find a job. A-SAP. Joan always kept the windowed doors of her balcony unlocked, and so she easily made her way inside of her bedroom. She was able to navigate her way through the darkness and to a light switch without falling on her ass since she knew the layout of her room by heart.

As the lights were turned on a conservatively decorated bedroom was revealed. Joan had furnished most of her bedroom with items from _Pier 1 Imports_. She had a bed with a white, wooden headboard, and a sunny, canary yellow comforter with matching pillows. There were two bedside tables, a chestnut dresser, and a matching vanity table. She liked to think of the way she'd decorated her room as 'shabby chic'. On her dresser were pictures of her and her best friend Kim. On the walls there were framed photographs of Joan and her sister Cathy. There were no photographs of Joan's parents inside of her house. Ever since their falling out it just hadn't felt right.

In a special glass cabinet Joan had all of the medals, trophies, and awards displayed that she'd won in her various tennis tournaments and the Olympics. Joan was sure that her bedroom looked just like any other normal twenty-five year old woman's bedroom. No one would be able to guess that she was actually the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. She sighed at the thought. Every girl she knew would love the _idea_ of being the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc, but none of them understood the _reality_ of it.

Joan was so afraid of fire that she had to microwave everything. She couldn't even stand the sight of the flames on her own stove. Joan couldn't light a match without having convulsions, so had never gotten addicted to smoking. It was ridiculous. Anytime someone lit up a cigarette around her she'd flinch, and hold her breath, praying for the flame to die down and disappear back inside its evil holding chamber aka a Zippo.

She was sure other girls her age didn't have to go out at midnight and hunt down lesser demons and evil spirits until the crack of dawn. _Why did I have to be the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc? Why couldn't I have been the reincarnation of someone harmless like...Marilyn Monroe._ Joan looked down at her breasts. _They were bigger in my past life, darn it._

Joan stubbornly couldn't get over the fact that her life used to be so normal...so perfect...before _demons_ had come into her life. Before her dog had opened up his mouth and uttered the ominous words: 'It's time, for you to awaken, Jeanne.' _The only thing I got out of being the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc is violent tendencies and a job I don't want._ Joan transformed back into her human form and her Halloween costume reappeared. The nun outfit had been Kimberley's idea of a joke. Joan had told her friend she wanted a 'conservative' Halloween costume and Kimberley had shown up at Joan's place with the nun costume.

Since Joan hadn't bothered to get a Halloween costume on her own she'd had no choice but to don the nun outfit. Joan was a feminist so normally she didn't wear skirts. She just didn't believe in it. Joan didn't know how Kimberley had managed to convince her to go to her Halloween party anyways. Parties were events where people got drunk, found someone of the opposite sex to make out with, and then have sex with. But Joan wasn't the type to just randomly 'hook up' with anyone. Sure she'd tried to but...those guys had never felt 'right'. Joan always told her friend Kim that she was simply waiting for 'the one'.

Of course, her friend Kimberley had teased her about this, but now that Joan was twenty-five and _still_ a virgin her friend now respected her decision and was rooting for her to find her Mr. Right. Though at this point, Joan was getting discouraged that she'd ever find him. _You've already found him. Dantalion is back._ A little voice piped up in her mind, causing her cheeks to redden. She shook her head viciously. _No, I will not fall in love with that demon again. I hate him. He betrayed me. And if I see him...I will kill him. Maybe I should make myself a profile on Match.com and try and date some nice, normal human guys._

Unfortunately, ever since she'd gotten her memory back there was only one man on her mind, and he definitely wasn't normal or human, but a demon. _God forgive me._ Joan got ready for bed and forced all thoughts of Dantalion from her mind. When she fell onto her bed sleep overtook her instantly. She woke up the next morning to the sound of her alarm clock going off at eight o'clock. It was nice getting to sleep in. When she still had tennis training and weight lifting to do she had to start her day at six o'clock.

Her cell phone began to ring, playing the ringtone: _Radioactive_. Joan scrambled for her phone that was sitting on her bedside table, grabbed it, and quickly answered the call with a swipe of her finger.

" _Hey Joan, it's Kim. Where the hell were you last night, girl?_ " Joan could hear the hurt in Kimberley's voice.

Joan groaned, fell back onto her bed, and looked up at her ceiling. "Kim, I'm so sorry about last night. Something came up." She began to chew on her lower lip. She hated having to lie to her best friend but...Michael said she wasn't allowed to tell Kim about the demons. It was for Kim's own protection, he'd said.

" _Doesn't it always? Whatever. No big. I'm used to it. Say, what are you doing right now?_ " There was a note of excitement in Kim's voice now.

"I just got up. Why?" Joan asked warily. Kim was definitely up to something. And that 'something' usually included getting Joan to wear a skirt or go on a blind date.

" _Hmm._ " Joan could almost picture the cat's paw smile that was forming on her friend's face. " _Why don't we grab breakfast together and I can also show you my latest crush._ "

Joan raised an eyebrow at that. "What about Bobby?"

" _That was like two weeks ago!_ "

"Luke?"

" _So yesterday's news._ "

"So now it's...?"

" _Gilebert, of course._ "

"Gilebert?"

"He's French. He has the most dreamy accent." Kim let out a wistful sigh.

Joan couldn't stop the amused smile that curled her lips. "And where does Gilebert work?"

" _At the hottest café in town of course. 23 Cornelia Street Café._ "

Joan blinked. "Cornelia Street Café? Since when is that little cafe the hottest place in town?"

Kimberley giggled over the phone. " _Since my Gilebert started working there of course. So meet you there?_ "

"Uh, sure."

" _Great. See you soon._ " Kimberley ended the call.

"What did Kimberly want?" Michael asked as he trotted over to Joan's bed, stood up on his hind legs, and put his paws on the mattress.

Joan sat up, reached out, and scratched Michael behind his ear absentmindedly. Michael had told her time and time again not to do that, but she knew he liked it. Already his left hind leg was beginning to twitch and he was leaning into her touch. If Michael had been trapped in the body of a cat he would have already been purring. "She wants us to have breakfast together."

"You should be searching the city for Dantalion." Michael argued in his no nonsense tone. "Not fooling around and wasting time."

Joan let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Dantalion can wait. I have a social life. And I'm sick and tired of running around the city and killing invisible demons every night _and_ getting hurt for people I don't even know. I just want to live a normal life. That's why you're going to stay here. I can always hunt demons at night. That's when they usually come out anyways, right?"

Without waiting for Michael's response, Joan hopped off the bed, and made her way over to her dresser. She opened a drawer and fished around in it for a clean bra and matching underwear. She never could find the right match, however, and ended up choosing a blue bra and green panties. _Whatever._ She shrugged. It wasn't like anyone was going to see her in it. She opened another drawer and pulled out a simple baby blue t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans.

"Demons are always awake regardless of the time of day." Michael proclaimed as he followed her around the bedroom.

"Argh!" Joan threw her hands up into the air. "Well, I don't care! We're going to set some ground rules for this demon hunting business, Michael. Only at night and only when it doesn't conflict with my social schedule. I'm sick of blowing off my friends for this crap!" Joan would have said 'shit' but Michael would nag her to death when she swore so she'd gotten into the habit of simply not swearing.

"Joan, you can't decide that on your own. When your cross detects a demon - it _must_ be pursued." Michael argued firmly.

Joan reached up and removed the silver cross she was wearing before tossing it to the bed. The silver cross was more than five hundred years old. It was a cross of Lorraine - a two-barred cross that consisted of a vertical bar crossed by two short horizontal bars. The horizontal bars were 'graded' with the upper bar being shorter. "Not if I don't have this stupid thing with me! Now, I'm going to go have breakfast with my friend, and then go look for a job. When I get home, that's when we can go demon hunting."

"Joan, God will be very displeased with you if you do this." Michael warned in a gravely voice. "You realize this life is your second chance to redeem your soul by stopping the demon who is gating in all these lesser demons. And that demon must be Dantalion."

There was that twisting feeling in her stomach again. "I never asked for this. I never asked to be the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc! I'm _not_ that person. I'm _me_. And in this life I don't want to have anything to do with demons! I just wanted to play tennis but...even that was taken away from me." Joan's voice was tinged with bitterness and regret. She stomped angrily into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her.

Michael let out a sigh. His heart felt heavy. Modern-day women, especially the feminists of the twenty-first century were so hard to deal with. Five hundred and eighty-four years ago, Joan had been much easier to deal with and guide with visions. But now she wanted no part in her true destiny. Michael hung his head dejectedly. He was failing in his duty as Joan's guardian angel.

He was supposed to protect her, and guide her to take the right path. He'd even made the sacrifice of being trapped in the body of a dog so that he could stay by Joan's side until the Apocalypse. He just wanted Joan to be safe and for her soul to be redeemed so that she'd be able to enter heaven at the time of her death. That way they could be together. He didn't want to be the 'bad guy' as Joan tended to see him.

Joan took a shower and let the hot water calm her down before she strangled her cute dog. She knew that Michael meant well but sometimes he really got on her nerves. She showered quickly, brushed her teeth, and got dressed. As she opened her bathroom door a cloud of steam entered her bedroom, which was several degrees colder. She grabbed her knee boots out of her closet and quickly put them on.

Joan could feel Michael's judging golden-brown eyes on her as she grabbed her jacket, purse, and car keys before heading out the door. She'd parked her dark green Volvo (with tan leather interior) a block away from her apartment building. She got into her car, turned on the engine and drove to Cornelia Street Café. Joan liked her Volvo. It was a nice, practical car. Not at all like the red convertible that almost got her killed. It didn't take her very long to arrive at the café. Finding parking was a problem and she ended up having to park two blocks away. She got out of her car and walked down the sidewalk. "What the?" There was a line of customers that was two blocks long in front of the café.

Cornelia Street Café was a nice café right on a New York main street with outdoor tables, and an old-fashioned awning that was decorated with red and white stripes. The café was very airy with several doors that had been thrown wide-open, so potential customers could see right into the café. Joan was even able to see the bar that was off to the right side. To the left were several tables that took up the remaining floor space. Joan frowned as she pondered about whether or not she should make the line or cut. She knew that she was supposed to be a Saint, but whatever.

Before she could make up her mind, however, she heard her friend's voice calling out to her: "Joan! Over here!"

Joan looked around and spotted her best friend, Kimberley, seated at one of the tables inside of the café already. _Sweet._ Kimberley smiled at Joan showing off her pearly white teeth and waved at her friend. "Get your butt over here!"

Joan smirked before making her way over to her friend's table and taking a seat. "Hey Kim. How early did you have to get here in order to get a table?"

Kimberley grinned. "Five o'clock this morning." The blonde admitted in a nonchalant tone.

Joan's eyes bugged. "No way. You've been here since five?" _This Gilebert guy must really be something else._

Kimberley propped her chin in her hand showing off her pink painted fingernails as she stared off in the direction of the bar. "And it's been worth every single minute. I'm not going to give up this table. Ever."

Joan watched as her friend let out a wistful sigh and rolled her eyes. She followed her friend's gaze to the bar and caught sight of the male barista. Joan's eyes widened. She could suddenly understand why her friend had made such a big deal about this place.

Standing behind the bar was a real nice piece of man-candy. Gilebert was tall, nicely muscled though not as muscular as Dantalion. He was six-three, again he was a little shorter than Dantalion who was six-five. Joan bit the inside of her cheek when she realized she'd been comparing this man to Dantalion. She shook her head and continued to check the guy out unabashedly. He had brown, curly hair that fell to his shoulders and handsome facial features - a straight, aquiline nose, and a square chin with a dimple in it. His skin was pale but slightly sun-kissed. The pair of Ray-Bans that he was wearing unfortunately covered the barista's eyes.

_What guy wears their hair long anymore?_ Joan mused appreciatively. _It's nice to see that for a change._ The barista was wearing a white, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a black vest, and a black tie. A stylish black fedora sat on his head. Wearing sunglasses indoors was a little eccentric, but other than that Joan had to admit the guy was pretty hot.

Although the longer Joan looked at him she felt like there was something...unsettling about him. Joan's hand went reflexively to clasp the cross that was usually dangling around her neck only to remember that she'd decided to leave the Demon Detector at home. She dropped her hand into her lap and frowned. _What the hell am I thinking anyways? Not every good-looking guy is a demon. Not that I think Dantalion is good-looking or anything. I hate his guts._

Even as she thought this Joan couldn't help but picture Dantalion in her mind. That silky, wavy, black hair, his fierce golden eyes, his marble-like skin, those kissable lips, and his hard, muscled body. _Kissable lips? I did not just think that._ She chided herself. _If I had to choose...not going there, Joan. Great, now I'm talking to myself._

Kimberley giggled and Joan returned her attention back to her friend. "You see, even Joan the Nun can appreciate how good-looking that guy is and you're usually so picky. Sorry to tell you this, girl, but I've got dibs. I saw him first. That man-candy is _mine_." She licked her glossy lips.

Joan snorted. "Yours? Oh really? And does he know about this?"

Kimberley shook her head sending her blonde ringlets bouncing about her shoulders. "No, but you know me, I always get what I want. And right now I want him."

Joan rolled her eyes at her confident friend. Kimberley was right though. She always did get what she wanted. Her friend Kim was smoking hot. Not that she was a lesbian or anything. Kimberley was tall, blonde, with a curvaceous figure that women would kill for. Her eyes were the color of honey or amber, and her lashes were long and dark. She had cherubic cheeks and a cute, sloping nose that gave her that All-American Girl look.

It was no surprise that Kimberley was a professional supermodel. She was also very feminine and liked to wear anything that was pink or flower-printed. Joan, on the other hand, hated pink, hated skirts, and hated anything with flowers on it. Kimberley worshiped the clothing designer Betsy Johnson, and spent most of the money she earned as a model on BJ clothes - as she liked to call them.

Other girls would have felt intimidated being in Kimberley's presence but Joan didn't really give her appearance too much thought. Joan didn't want to waste her time styling her hair every morning, so she'd had it cut into a sleek, chin-length bob. Her hair was a boring brown color, but she thought it was too much trouble to dye it or get it highlighted, so had left it _au naturel_. Joan also preferred t-shirts and jeans to fancy dresses and skirts.

Kimberley was always trying to give Joan a 'make over', but Joan had avoided it thus far. Thank God. Joan glanced over at Gilebert. She doubted he would be able to resist her friend but...Joan frowned. There was still something she didn't like about that guy. Joan looked over at Kim. She wanted to tell her friend about her icky feeling, but knew she'd just end up looking jealous or petty. That's why she decided to keep her mouth shut. Kim was one of the few friends she had left and who put up with Joan's flaking out all the time.

A waitress arrived to take Joan's order. Kimberley had already eaten and was enjoying a fancy, flavored coffee drink, which she'd oddly enough opted to get in a paper cup.

Joan quickly looked over the menu before ordering the French toast and a café latte.

Kimberley took a sip of her coffee drink and moaned blissfully. The combination of chocolate and caramel was divine. "So when are you going to start job hunting?"

Joan groaned at the reminder. "Ugh, maybe today. I don't know."

Kimberley raised an eyebrow at her friend's wishy-washiness. "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I _want_ to play tennis."

"Joan." Kimberley's tone chided. "You can't keep regretting what happened. You have to keep moving forward. When life closes one door it opens another. You just have to pry open the doors of destiny and try something new." For Joan's benefit Kimberley demonstrated what opening the door of destiny would look like and threw her arms wide as she did so. "I could always introduce you to some people at my agency?"

Joan raised a skeptical eyebrow at her friend's offer. "Me? Model? I don't think so. They'd probably try to make me wear a skirt." _And I really don't think my boobs are big enough._

"And what would be so bad about that?" Kimberley smiled and her amber eyes twinkled. "I think you'd look cute!"

Joan groaned. "I'm too busy making a statement in this male dominated society. Women shouldn't have to wear skirts to get a guy's attention or to land a job. Women should be able to wear whatever they want to. It's the twenty-first century for Heaven's sake."

Kimberley waved her hand through the air. "Yea, yea." She'd heard Joan's feminist tirade before, of course. Her gaze returned to Gilebert. "Oh, there's lull in customers! Finally, I'm going to go and talk to him."

"Give him your number, you mean." Joan's lip twitched.

"Of course. But also I'm going to give him this." Kimberley showed Joan her paper cup which used to say 'Caution: the beverage you're about to consume is HOT', and which now read: 'Caution: You're really HOT. Call me.' Kimberly had used a Sharpie to cross out some of the words on the cup and had added her phone number.

"Very subtle." Joan said.

"I know, right?" Kimberley giggled as she headed towards the bar where she began to engage Gilebert in an animated conversation. He looked interested in whatever Kimberley was saying, and he was leaning forward slightly in Kim's direction. Joan was pretty good at reading a person's body language and knew that he was already into her friend. Kimberley had a habit of tipping guys she liked her phone number. They _always_ called.

A few minutes later, the waitress returned with Joan's café latte and French toast. Joan immediately began to dig in. She was suddenly ravenous. Maybe Kimberley was right and she should stop obsessing about the past and embrace the future. And that meant _both_ pasts. She decided she'd just walk around the area and see if there were any part-time positions available. Maybe a small retail store or a restaurant would need someone since the holiday season was fast approaching. Joan wasn't really sure what she wanted to do in life anymore now that her dream of playing tennis professionally had been taken from her.

The café latte was surprisingly delicious even though it was so simple, and the French toast seemed to melt in her mouth. "Mmm." She could see why this café had gotten popular all of a sudden. She looked over at the barista. He was good. She'd give him that.

Joan finished her breakfast and paid. She looked over at the bar and saw that Kimberley was still flirting shamelessly with the barista. A smile curled her lips. Joan decided she'd just text message her friend so that she wouldn't interrupt them. She was happy for Kim. ' _Had to jet...good luck with Gilebert. Not that you need it._ ' Joan texted Kimberley on her way out of the café.

Joan walked down the sidewalk and fumbled with the buttons on her jacket as she quickly tried to close it. It was freezing out. She rubbed her hands together and breathed on them, realizing she should have brought her gloves. The best places to be during the Fall and then Winter were nice warm pubs. Maybe she should find a pub and try working as a waitress? She mused. That was a possibility...as long as they didn't make her wear a skirt.

It wasn't long before Joan spotted an Irish pub with a 'Help Wanted' sign stuck to the front window. She entered and asked the bartender about the waitressing position. The bartender looked Joan over and sneered. "Position's already been filled."

A muscle below Joan's eye ticked. She knew the man was lying. As Joan stomped out of the Irish pub she looked at the other waitresses. They were all young, big-boobed women wearing tight, low-cut shirts and short skirts. She didn't want to work in a place that objectified women anyways. "Hmph!" _What is this place...Hooters?_

Joan stalked down the street, spotted another pub, and tried it next. She spoke to the manager this time who looked Joan over before saying she had a chance. However, when Joan explained that she wouldn't wear a skirt she was kicked out of the pub! The nerve of that manager guy!

Joan let out a despairing sigh. She was just about to give up when she turned her head and saw yet another an Irish pub. She had almost walked right past it without noticing it. It was also different from the other pubs with a more dour, somber and almost dreary appearance. It was a tall, rectangular-shaped, brick building that resembled a town house that had been turned into a restaurant. The first floor window was all wood and glass, and the pub had a solid, wooden front door. All of the wood had been painted dark green at one point, but the paint was faded and peeling.

A round, wooden sign swung directly over the front door. The sign read: _Dullahan's Irish Pub_. The image on the sign was of a woman riding a black horse. The image was slightly faded and the paint was peeling causing Joan to squint up at the sign to get a closer look. Her eyes widened when she realized that the horsewoman had no head. The headless horsewoman was gripping the reins with her right hand while in her left hand she held a severed head. The head had pale skin, freckles, and a cascade of strawberry blonde hair that was almost pink in color. The severed head's eyes were closed. _Oh my God...she's a dullahan...a headless horsewoman. Like the headless horsewoman I saw on Halloween!_ Joan suddenly remembered and realized that's why this place had felt oddly familiar. _That's right. I saw that spirit riding out of the front window of this pub!_

Joan shuddered. What a creepy sign. She spotted a 'Help Wanted' sign stuck to the inside of the front window, which read:

HELP WANTED

Part-time waitress

Part-time bartender (male or female)

Please inquire within

for more information.

Thank you!

Joan peered through the dusty window. _Wow._ It looked pretty dead in there. _Is this place even open?_ She hesitated...but there was something about the place that wouldn't leave her alone. Joan decided to go inside and give it a shot. She entered the pub and an old-fashioned bell above the door jingled. She looked around the pub curiously noting that it was completely empty except for the bartender and the only waitress in the place. The waitress was sitting on a barstool and leaning over the bar while she made out with the bartender.

The waitress was blocking Joan's view of the bartender's face, but she had a good view of a tattoo on the woman's left upper arm - a Japanese _geisha_ who was sucking on her finger in a suggestive pose. In fact, the waitress was covered in various tattoos. The waitress was slightly overweight, and yet was wearing skintight clothing - a dark green tank top and a jean mini skirt. Her black hair was tied up into a high ponytail. Joan could see her bellybutton piercing, and could also tell the woman's nipples were pierced since she wasn't wearing a bra. _TMI._ Joan thought to herself.

The bartender was wearing a black vest and matching black pants. Joan figured he had probably forgone the usual white, button-down shirt in order to show off the tribal tattoo that wound around his upper left arm and the intricate swirls that decorated his right arm. The bartender was pretty muscular and looked like he worked out. He had closely cropped black hair that was almost a buzz cut.

The bar was impressive and ran the entire length of the left-hand side of the establishment. To the right several round tables were scattered about the floor space, and there were booths along the right-hand side of the pub against the wall. There was a back room with a pool table and a stage for live music performances. Most of the wood inside of the pub had been painted dark green, grass green and yellow. Though the paint was peeling in a lot of places. The bar itself was a faded mahogany. The flag of Ireland was hanging over the bar and a zillion shamrocks decorated the pub. There were shamrocks on the back of the barstools, shamrocks on the glasses, and shamrocks on the napkin holders. Joan had never seen so many shamrocks before in her entire life.

All sorts of interesting memorabilia hung on the walls and ceilings to give patrons something to look at while they drank - license plates from all over the States (including funny license plates like 'PLAY TMN' 'I AM LATE' 'WAS HIS' 'BUDWSR'), and flags from different countries. A model pirate ship, a model plane, a preserved puffer fish, and a kite were hanging from the ceiling.

The pub may have been devoid of human patrons, but Joan could see that there were several evil spirits and lesser demons wandering around the pub. A few of these beings were even seated at the tables. She'd never seen so many evil spirits and lesser demons in one place before. She would need her cross in order to transform to be able to exorcise them though. _No wonder no one is coming in here...they must feel the heavy, unwelcoming aura that surrounds this place_. _But...it isn't normal for so many evil spirits to be all in one place. I wonder why they're here._ _Is something attracting them?_ Joan mused before deciding that regardless of what happened during her job interview here she'd return there later that night, and exorcise the place of the evil spirits and lesser demons with her holy sword.

Joan's attention returned to the amorous waitress and bartender. She took a deep breath before approaching the couple. "Um, excuse me."

The couple continued to make out.

Joan coughed loudly. "Uh, hello!"

The couple finally noticed Joan and swiftly pulled apart. The waitress glared at Joan while the bartender offered Joan an apologetic smile. Now that Joan could see his face she saw that he had dark eyes, rugged features, and there was stubble along his jaw line. "Sorry about that, babe." The bartender's eyes looked Joan over curiously and a spark of lust came to his dark eyes. "What can I get you?"

"Nothing to drink, thanks." Joan said and was feeling a little unsettled by the obvious desire in his eyes. Joan shot the waitress a wary look since it was obvious these two were an item. The last thing she wanted was to get in a catfight for a guy she didn't even want.

"How would you like a Screaming Orgasm?" The bartender winked.

So much for not making waves. The bartender was definitely not being subtle. "No thank you." Joan said through gritted teeth.

The bartender just laughed at the obvious anger on Joan's face. Joan didn't get what was so funny until the waitress spoke up. "It's a party shot." The waitress informed Joan with a roll of her eyes. "Duh."

"Oh, I knew that." Joan said. _I totally didn't know that._ She didn't like the club scene very much, and so didn't know many of the new, popular drinks that had perverted names.

"Although...you can give _me_ a screaming orgasm anytime, baby." The waitress cooed as she reached out to stroke the bartender's arm.

The bartender chuckled as he began to prepare the shot mixing a quarter of an ounce of vodka, a quarter of an ounce of amaretto liqueur, a quarter of an ounce of coffee liqueur, and a quarter of an ounce of Bailey's Irish Cream liqueur into a shaker tin filled with ice. He then began to shake the mixture and even did a few stunts with the shaker. Joan watched and resisted rolling her eyes. The bartender then poured the mixture into a shot glass in front of Joan with a flourish.

"I'm here about the help wanted sign I saw in the window." Joan explained as she picked up the shot, and surprised the bartender and the waitress by drinking the shot back in one go without flinching.

The bartender blinked. "Help wanted sign. You want to work _here_?" His tone was incredulous and somewhat amused.

"Yes." Joan nodded firmly.

The bartender's amusement shifted to wariness, and he shot the waitress a nervous look. She looked equally nervous all of a sudden. The waitress hopped off the barstool and approached Joan with her hands on her hips. "Why would you want to work here? As you can see this place is dead." Her tone was almost defensive. Joan couldn't help but notice the tattoos on the woman's inner thighs - on the inside of her left thigh was a rabbit and on the inside of her left thigh was Santa Clause. _Christmas and Easter? Really?_ Joan thought to herself and shook her head. The waitress pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her impressive cleavage, took out a cigarette, and lit up.

Joan raised an eyebrow at the waitress. "A job's a job. Isn't it?" She narrowed her eyes at the couple. They were acting kind of suspicious. _They're hiding something. I wonder what._

"Er, yea, I guess you're right." The bartender chuckled and was obviously trying to sound lighthearted. "But don't say we didn't warn you. Jenny, the beautiful waitress you see here." The bartender motioned towards the waitress with a tilt of his head. "The chef, Ivan, and myself are the only people working here right now. We're the only ones left that the boss can afford to keep employing." The bartender wiped his hand on a rag before offering it to Joan. "And I'm Franky, by the way."

Joan took Franky's hand and shook it firmly. As Franky let go he shook his hand surprised by how firm that handshake had been. His fingers were a little sore. "So can I speak with the manager here?" Joan asked.

"Er...you'll have to speak to the owner. There is no manager. Hang on a second. ALAN GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE!" Franky yelled out at the top of his lungs.

Joan's eyebrow rose even higher. "Alan's your _boss,_ right?" _How can he speak to his boss like that?_

"Yes." Franky deadpanned.

"C-Coming!" Came a nervous sounding voice.

From the back room where the office was located a young man that was probably around the same age as Joan, and in his early twenties, emerged. He was tall with a somewhat lanky physique, and had extremely pale skin. The young man was handsome with a stylish, EMO hairstyle where his golden blonde hair covered half of his face. His one visible eye was sky-blue. He was wearing a slick suit and a trendy fedora on his head.

"Hey boss, we got a girl here interested in the waitressing position." Franky rumbled. The bartender's voice was scratchy, probably from smoking one too many cigarettes.

Alan looked at Joan curiously and offered her a warm smile. His blue eyes were filled with hope. "Really? It's nice to meet you, Miss...?" The young man trailed off expectantly.

"Joan. Joan Simone." Joan introduced herself.

"Alan Dullahan." Alan put his hand out for Joan to take.

Joan took it and smiled back. _Dullahan, huh? Just like the name of the evil spirit known as the dullahan. That's pretty interesting._

"Let's go ahead and have the interview in my office. That way you can tell me a little about yourself and why you wish to work here. Please follow me, Joan." Alan said as he turned around and began to lead the way.

"Sure-" Joan was saying before she froze. There hanging off of Alan's back was a small black demon with horns, bat-like wings and a serpentine tail. The demon was three feet tall. It noticed Joan looking at it and grinned menacingly. _A lesser demon...I'll have to exorcise it later._ Joan thought to herself.

The fact that the demon was trying to possess Alan meant that he was either an atheist and so had no divine protection against such things, or he had a great emptiness inside of him. Joan followed Alan into his office. It was a small, cramped and extremely messy room. There were towering stacks of paper everywhere. There were bookshelves but apparently Alan had more books than could fit in the shelves since there were even books piled on the floor. Apparently, Alan liked to read.

Alan took a seat behind the desk and tried to look professional. Even though he looked confident Joan was able to sense how nervous he was. It was cute. He straightened a stack of paper causing a cloud of dust to fly up into the air. Alan tried very hard not to but he ended up sneezing and blowing most of the papers off of desk. A pink tinge came to his cheeks and he tried to ignore what had just happened. "Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable, Joan."

Joan took a seat in the dusty armchair that was sitting in front of Alan's desk. Alan looked at Joan and cleared his throat. "Er...so um, do you have any waitressing experience?"

Joan gave Alan a pointed look. "Aren't you supposed to ask me for my resume first?"

Alan scratched the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. "Yea, you're probably right. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. You see, this is my brother's pub. Or rather it was my brother's pub. He inherited it from our parents, but he passed away recently. I inherited this place from him." A cloud of sadness passed over Alan's features.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Joan said even as relief filled her. _That explains the demon. They prey on the emptiness in human hearts...such as great sadness. At least he's probably not an atheist._

Alan tried to offer Joan a smile but it came out rather forced. "Thank you. I miss my brother but I miss my father even more. He was a great man. I bet my father is watching me from Heaven and is extremely disappointed in me though. Unlike my brother, I've managed to run the family business into the ground in just a few short months. I'm already in debt and I don't really know what else to do. I'm desperate and I need the help so...that's why I'm not being too picky about seeing a resume. It's getting harder and harder to find people who want to work here for some reason too. People have told me that my pub is...creepy." Alan put his head in his hands, looking helpless all of a sudden.

Joan reached out and put a hand on Alan's shoulder. "Don't worry, Alan, it's not your fault. I'm sure things will turn around. You'll see. And if you let me I'd like to try and help."

Alan looked up and gave Joan a hopeful look. "Really? That would be great."

Joan was nodding before she remembered something. "There's just one thing."

Alan expression of happiness faltered and he looked at Joan expectantly. "What is it?"

"Do I have to wear a skirt?"

***

Later that same evening, Joan stood before the front window of _Dullahan's_. She was wearing her shinning, golden armor and had her impressive, double-edged, medieval sword strapped to her side. Her silver cross dangled from around her neck. She'd already transformed into Jeanne d'Arc and was prepared to exorcise those evil spirits and lesser demons that were inside of _Dullahan's_ as she'd decided earlier.

Next to her, was an enormous six hundred pound golden retriever with majestic, white, feathery wings. Michael let out a huff, mental eyebrow raised. "What is this place, Joan?"

"My new place of employment." Joan explained simply.

Michael gawked at the rundown Irish pub. It looked oddly familiar. "You want to work _here_? But this place is...?" The guardian angel looked at the building that was surrounded by a thick, black cloud of negative energy.

"Haunted?" Joan replied with a shrug. "I know. But I'm going to exorcise it."

Michael gave Joan a surprised look. "Any time I tell you to use your powers for the greater good you run away, or make a huge fuss, or refuse. What's so different about this place?" He demanded.

"The owner is a nice person, who needs my help. And he said I don't have to wear a skirt to work!" There was a determined gleam in Joan's green eyes. "I won't find another boss like that in this entire sexist city! Especially not in this day and age! I shall protect my new boss and get rid of the ghosts here." She vowed passionately with a fist raised before her.

Michael rolled his eyes at Joan's answer. _That_ was her reason? _For heaven's sake. What am I going to do with her?_

Joan unsheathed her sword and held it out before her. She began to summon her magical power so that an aura of pure, warm, golden light began to surround her body. Her body and her sword began to glow brighter and brighter.

The dark, swirling cloud of miasma that was curled around the building began to uncoil, and solidify once it took notice of Joan's irresistible presence. All of the negative energy and spirits coalesced until a gigantic, black, shadowy fifty-foot long snake was moving off the building and slithering in Joan's direction.

This wasn't actually a bad thing. Now all the evil spirits were in one place and could theoretically be exorcised at the same time. The snake opened its mouth wide, revealing its pointed fangs, before swooping down towards Joan, ready to strike.

Joan leapt backwards out of the way as the snake's enormous head impacted with the sidewalk in front of _Dullahan's_ and created an enormous crater. Pieces of the sidewalk were sent flying up into the air.

_Oops._ Joan realized Alan would probably have to get that fixed. _Crap._ They had to get rid of this snake as quickly as possible, so that there would be minimal damage to the surrounding area. "Michael!" Joan called out, knowing that her guardian angel would know how to react.

"On it!" Michael called out as he leapt into action, opened his maw, and unleashed a barrage of red, sizzling fireballs the snake's way. The fireballs hit the snake that hissed and let out an animalistic roar of rage and pain.

Using her now superhuman speed Joan ran around the snake and towards its neck. "Hah!" Joan leapt up into the air and holding her great sword in a two-handed grip she brought the sword down upon the evil spirit's neck. It writhed and shrieked before the snake suddenly exploded and faded away into nothingness.

At this point, Joan was panting for breath, more due to the amount of magical energy she'd just used to dispel the evil spirit than the physical exertion the task had taken. "That was one hell of an evil spirit." Joan frowned. "But why would so many evil spirits be attracted to this place, and a nice, harmless guy like Alan?"

Michael looked at the pub thoughtfully. The evil spirits may have been exorcised but there was still a dark aura surrounding the place. "Something dark or tragic must have happened here. Perhaps someone was brutally murdered here? I'm not certain, but I do sense... _something_ dark. Maybe, besides the haunting there is a curse upon this place."

_A curse?_ Joan nodded in agreement and sheathed her sword. "Let's go home." She was saying before she turned back around. A scowl formed on her face. "That's funny, I still sense something _evil_ in there." Joan revealed as she approached the door and tried the doorknob. It was locked. She removed one of her bobby pins that kept her bangs out of her face, twisted it, and used it to pick the lock.

Michael shook his head disapprovingly at Joan's antics. "God's Chosen Warrior shouldn't know how to pick locks like a common thief."

"God's Chosen Warrior probably shouldn't know how to hotwire a car either." Joan smirked before opening the door and making her way inside. It was pitch black but she didn't dare turn on a light as she softly closed the door behind her and Michael. Michael had transformed into his smaller hundred-pound form to be able to make it through the door. Joan continued her way through the pub heading towards where she sensed the malevolent energy coming from. Soon she was standing in front of the door to Alan's office. Joan took a deep breath as she opened the door and made her way inside.

Alan was inside of the office seated behind his desk. The young pub owner was hunched over his desk, and his head was resting on his arms as he slept. Alan looked even younger when he was asleep. Joan noted and thought that there was also this innocent, pure air about him. But his sleep looked troubled. His brow was furrowed and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.

And no wonder. A lesser demon was clinging to Alan's back and digging its claws into his shoulders. It sensed Joan's presence, looked up, and met Joan's stare before smiling evilly. Joan just smiled back, unsheathed her sword, and pointed it at the demon.

The smile fell right off the demon's face at that, and its expression turned outraged. It let out a shriek as it leapt off of Alan's back with a flap of its wings and attacked Joan.

"Die! Foul demon!" Joan cried as she lunged her sword forward and impaled the demon right through its chest. The demon cried out, writhed in pain and agony, but Joan's pure magical power ripped it apart from the inside out. The demon exploded as it was exorcised and then disappeared completely.

Alan instantly woke up from his nightmare. He looked up, startled, and panting for breath. "W-Who's there?" Alan called out tremulously as he looked straight ahead and at the currently invisible Joan.

Joan stared back at her new boss. A triumphant smile curled her lips. He was free. She vowed to herself that she'd continue to protect this kind young man who'd said she didn't have to wear a skirt to work. Best boss ever. And she hadn't even started working yet.

"See you at work tomorrow, boss." Joan said softly as she turned to leave.

Michael trotted after her. "That's your new boss? He looks weak."

"Yea, I know. It makes me want to protect him." There was a rueful note to Joan's voice. "He seems genuinely kind and naïve though. You don't meet many people like him these days. People who aren't already jaded by humanity's cruelty."

"Indeed." Michael agreed. "Humans have been cruel to each other since the beginning of time. 'All men are bad and are ever ready to display their malignity. This means that to deal with them as if they were good, honorable or trustworthy is to court disaster'."

Joan raised an eyebrow at the guardian angel. "Quoting Machiavelli? Isn't that a little negative for an angel to say? If anyone should have hope for humanity shouldn't it be you?"

"As long as humans have free will, there will be evil in this world, Joan. But...one day the humans will judge us angels. So you're right, I don't really have to right to condemn humans...but that doesn't stop me." Michael revealed his sharp teeth in what must have been his version of a smile.

To be continued... _in Drink 3: Long Island Iced Tea_

Dantalion: "Good evening, inferior human, so you wish to know how to make a Screaming Orgasm? Speaking of moaning females, I heard that they're trying to ban that in tennis, which would be a real shame. That was the whole reason why I watched it, especially Monica Seles. But anyways, back to the drink. Pour 1/4 ounces of vodka, 1/4 ounces of amaretto liqueur, 1/4 ounces of coffee liqueur and 1/4 ounce of Bailey's Irish Cream liqueur into a cocktail shaker filled with ice. Shake well. Perform a few tricks to impress your ladylove. Strain into a shot glass. Enjoy." _I wonder if Joan Simone moaned when she played tennis...I really need to look into that._

### Chapter 3: Long Island Iced Tea

Before Dantalion could get his IDs he decided that he needed to procure some normal human clothes so that he could blend in with the other humans in the city. The only problem was that he had no idea what was considered 'normal' for a man in this era to wear.

Dantalion decided to find out by people watching in the park. The demon took a seat on a park bench in Central Park and began to watch humans meandering by. There were early morning joggers, and cyclists, who were wearing sporty clothes like sweatpants and t-shirts. Dantalion spotted men and woman dressed in suits with briefcases in their hands next.

Fred casually took a seat next to Dantalion on the bench and watched the rising orange sun for several minutes without speaking. "Fred, which of these people are considered to be of upper class human society?"

Fred's brow furrowed at the question and he looked thoughtful. "Well, those businessmen, I think. They obviously work on Wall Street." Fred pointed out the men dressed in slick, designer suits with expensive-looking leather briefcases in their hands and highly-polished leather shoes.

Dantalion observed them for a while with a tilt of his head and decided he liked the look of a suit. It wasn't that much different from the types of clothes that he usually wore beneath his armor. "Understood. I will go and procure suitable attire. After that I will...go about my business." Aka getting his IDs. "If I need your help I will return."

That comment caused Fred to smile and a twinkle came to his gray-blue eyes. It had been a long time since he'd been useful to anyone. He nodded amiably. "Sure thing, kid."

Dantalion stood up and walked off, following the businessmen down the street. As he walked down 5th Avenue he caught sight of several human shops. One of them appeared to be a clothing store since Dantalion could see clothes displayed in the front window. The six-story building was modern and impressive - all gleaming glass and steel. The store's name was ' _Armani 5th Avenue_ '. Other clothing stores that Dantalion had spotted along the way were: _Gucci_ and _Prada_. The demon didn't know it at the time but he had expensive taste.

Dantalion found that he was impressed by the regalness of the building and its gold accents. It looked tasteful. He went inside. The store clerks turned to regard Dantalion as he entered and took in his weird outfit. Even though his outfit was strange Dantalion was still an extremely good-looking man so it was not unusual for him to be turning a few female heads. He was tall, well muscled, with chin-length, silky, black hair, sharp, golden eyes with long lashes, a blade of a nose, kissable lips and skin that shone like white marble.

The female store clerks immediately flocked over to help Dantalion out with whatever he required. A few of the young ladies elbowed each other as they tried to be the first one to reach the demon. Dantalion smirked. He was used to individuals treating him this way. He was a Great Duke of Hell after all. He had servants and butlers back at his castle in Hell, all ready to serve him to the utmost of their abilities.

The store clerks were all beautiful human females who were wearing white, button-down shirts, long, black pants or knee-length skirts, and jackets. The male store attendants were wearing full suits and ties in a variety of colors and patterns. He had definitely come to the right place.

"I'm looking for a suit." Dantalion said simply.

The salesclerks sprang into action and began bringing Dantalion possible suits for him to try on. Dantalion waved his hand at a few he thought could be possible options before having the women follow him to the dressing rooms. Dantalion took the suits from them before stepping inside of the dressing room. He began to try on the suits. It didn't take him long to make his decision. He decided upon three suits and chose to wear one of them right then and there.

Dantalion opened the door of the dressing room and stepped out. All eyes were immediately upon Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. The suit Dantalion had chosen consisted of a white, button-down shirt, a black and gold tie with a geometric pattern on it, a black jacket, and a pair of black pants. He kept his boots on. Boots were more practical for combat than the fancy dress shoes he'd seen the other businessmen wearing and he didn't want to lower his guard amongst the humans.

The females ogled him, let out wistful sighs of longing, some were drooling, and one even fainted. Dantalion shook his head at them, slightly amused. "Silly females." He went to the checkout counter, met the girl's eyes, and used his hypnosis on her. "You want to give these clothes to me for free because it will be good promotion for your store."

"I think we should just go ahead and give you these clothes for free." The salesclerk batted her eyelashes at Dantalion flirtatiously. "It will be good promotion for our store." She quickly bagged Dantalion's 'purchases' and handed him the shopping bag.

"Thank you." A wicked smile curled Dantalion's lips as he took the bag from her. "That's very generous of you."

Dantalion left the _Armani_ store in high spirits. He looked like a normal human man now. Or at least he thought he did. He returned forthwith to the park, dropped his clothes off with Fred, and then went to get his IDs.

***

Dantalion visited the DMV and used his hypnosis to get a driver's license. He decided upon the name: Dante Cromwell. This would be his new human identity. He then went to the US Embassy and used his hypnosis to get himself a passport with the name 'Dante Cromwell' as well. Lastly, he got himself a social security number.

After that, Dante went to 1646, First Avenue, Number One, _Ridgewood Savings Bank_ and opened himself an account there. He was just about to use his hypnosis to force the clerk to transfer a million dollars into his account when he sensed that his demonic power had been exhausted already. _Blazes!_ He swore in his mind.

He had been so close. Dante smiled thinly at the bank clerk, thanked her for setting up his new account, and left the bank. He'd just have to earn money the hard way and get a job. He already had an interest in being a bartender, so he figured it wouldn't be too difficult. But first he needed a place to stay. He couldn't continue to live at the park like a homeless person after all. He was a Great Duke of Hell. He needed a place more worthy of his presence. _A nice, quiet place that humans would probably call my 'evil lair'._

On that note, Dante sensed _something_. A powerful aura of malevolent energy. Curious, Dante stalked off in the direction that the energy was coming from. He walked several blocks until he began to enter South Bronx. The area was obviously a bad part of town. The buildings were rundown, had broken windows, and were slightly dilapidated. The demon could also sense multiple pairs of eyes watching him as he passed but none of the humans showed themselves.

Dantalion spotted the building that he'd sensed the negative energy coming from. It was an old, seven-story apartment building. It was in good shape for the area considering it had no broken windows, and no peeling paint, however...

It was surrounded by a thick, black cloud of negative energy. The place was crawling with ghosts and evil spirits. It was haunted. Dantalion could see the evil spirits flying in and out of the windows clearly though he knew that humans would not be able to see this.

A smile spread across Dante's face. The place was _perfect_. Dante eyed the 'For Sale' sign and memorized the telephone number that had been written on it. Dante whipped out his smart phone (Yes, the demon now had a smart phone and he'd had Fred show him how to use it) and scheduled an appointment to see the place with a real estate agent.

A few hours later, the real estate agent arrived. He was a nondescript man with mousy, thinning, brown hair, thick, square-rimmed glasses, and a slightly rumbled suit that he'd purchased at the _Men's Warehouse_. The agent warily approached the building and nervously checked his watch.

"Mr. Milton, I presume?" Dante rumbled from right next to the real estate agent.

The agent spun to face Dante with wide eyes. "Ah, you must be Mr. Cromwell?" The agent's heart was thudding loudly inside of his chest.

Dante nodded and tilted his head to the side, noticing the man's obvious fear. But that fear was obviously not of him but of the apartment building just behind him. "Indeed." He could feel the waves of fear flowing off this pathetic human. _Ah, how delicious._ He could feel his powers slowly returning to him, but he knew that he couldn't let himself gain too much power back or horns would end up sprouting right out of his head. "I'm looking forward to seeing the property, Mr. Milton."

Mr. Milton wiped some sweat from his brow with a pale blue handkerchief. "You want to go inside?" The agent choked out.

"Indeed I do." Dante agreed playfully.

"R-Right...of course." Mr. Milton agreed and fumbled to take out the keys from his pants pocket with trembling fingers.

"You told me the price of the entire building over the phone. Why is this place so cheap?" A sly smile curled Dante's lips. He already knew why the place was so cheap of course, but was curious as to what reason the human would give.

Mr. Milton looked up at the building and shivered. "I really shouldn't be telling you this but...you look like a nice young man."

_Guy's a terrible judge of character._ Dante shook his head at the man.

"People say...this place is haunted. So are you sure you still want to go inside?" Mr. Milton gave Dante a hopeful look.

"Now I'm even more intrigued by this unusual place, Mr. Milton. You may proceed." Dante waved his hand imperiously at Mr. Milton to open the front door.

Mr. Milton gulped, approached the front door, and with a shaking hand he struggled to put the key into the lock and turn it. He somehow managed to open the door, and they both made their way into the building. Eerily, the door closed behind them with a slam of its own accord. Mr. Milton jumped in response. Dante chuckled. Even more power was flowing into the demon. At this rate it wouldn't be too hard to get this place for free. Dante's grin widened.

The demon Duke looked around the foyer, and spotted an empty front reception desk. "I approve. Get the owner of the building on the phone. Tell him I wish to make an offer."

Mr. Milton's eyes widened in surprise. "R-Really? A-Alright." The agent fumbled to get out his cell phone and called up the owner. As the phone began to ring he asked Dante his offer. "What's your offer, Mr. Cromwell?"

"Twenty thousand dollars." Dantalion drawled.

Mr. Milton's eyes widened. "Twenty thousand? The list price is fifty thousand. He'll never accept it."

Dante narrowed his eyes at the real estate agent. "Just do it."

"O-Okay." Mr. Milton reluctantly agreed.

The owner of the building came on the phone. " _Hello?_ "

"Ah, Mr. Sunny Blueskies? This is agent Milton. I have a potential buyer here for your apartment building...the one in South Bronx. He wants to offer you twenty thousand for it."

" _Twenty thousand? No way...I won't make a cent._ " Mr. Blueskies complained angrily.

Mr. Milton gave Dante an apologetic look and shook his head despairingly. "Your offer is too low."

Dante held out his hand expectantly. "Give me the phone Mr. Milton. I want to talk to him."

"But-" Mr. Milton began to object but as soon as he looked into Dante's glowing, golden eyes he was hypnotized. "A-Alright." He handed Dante the cell phone in a daze.

Dante smirked as he put the phone up to his ear. "Hello Mr. Blueskies. I'd like to make you another offer."

" _Go right ahead._ "

"I'll take the property off your hands for...free. Transfer the deed over to me. My name is Dante Cromwell. I'll be doing you a favor, really, Mr. Blueskies." Dante assured, weaving this hypnotic suggestion into his voice.

" _Wait...what? You want the building for nothing? What the hell are you playing at? Just who are you? If you think you're doing me a favor-"_ But then suddenly Mr. Blueskies paused. " _Perhaps, you're right. It is a lot of trouble to pay taxes on. It's a real money pit. And no one wants to buy it because they think it's haunted or some such nonsense. I'll tell Mr. Milton to transfer the deed over to you immediately. Thank you, Mr. Cromwell._ "

"No, no, thank you. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Have a nice day." The demon smiled slyly as he handed the phone over to Mr. Milton.

Mr. Milton put the phone to his ear while giving Dante a befuddled look. The conversation he'd overhead made absolutely no sense. "Ah, Mr. Blueskies?"

" _I want to transfer the deed to Mr. Dante Cromwell immediately."_

"What? Why? I don't understand?" Mr. Milton clutched the phone so hard his knuckles turned white.

" _He's doing me a favor by getting that cursed property off my hands. It's a liability and I don't want to deal with it anymore. This will give me some real peace of mind._ "

"U-Understood Mr. Blueskies." Mr. Milton's voice was breathless and as he ended the call he turned to give Dante a confused look. "Mr. Blueskies wants to transfer the deed to you...free of charge."

"Of course he does." Dante patted Mr. Milton on the shoulder. "I'm doing him a favor. You're helping him too." The demon insisted as he met Mr. Milton's eyes and allowed another hypnotic suggestion to pass to the male in front of him.

Mr. Milton's eyes glazed over as he stared into those molten orbs. "Ah, you're doing him a favor. I see. And I'm being helpful too. That's great." A goofy smile formed on the nerdy man's face.

"I believe we have an accord." Dante nodded. After that Mr. Milton took Dante back to his real estate office and transferred the deed of the apartment building to Dante.

"Well, that's everything. The building is now yours, Mr. Cromwell. What do you plan to do with it?" Mr. Milton asked curiously.

"Oh, I'll rent it out to people...in need." Dante said vaguely with a wave of his hand through the air. "For dirt cheap."

Mr. Milton frowned and worry shone in his brown eyes. "But the hauntings...a lot of tenants left because certain accidents befell them. People got hurt." The agent shuddered.

"You need not concern yourself with that. I will take care of everything." Dante insisted in a tone that brooked no argument.

Mr. Milton still looked perplexed by everything that had happened but then shrugged. The haunted apartment was no longer his problem and that was a relief. It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Very well. Good luck, Mr. Cromwell." _You're going to need it._

***

Dante left the real estate agency and headed back to his new apartment building in South Bronx. He took out his keys and opened the front door. First things first, he needed to exorcise the place of the evil spirits and ghosts. Dante used his remaining demonic power that had been garnered from Mr. Milton's fear to summon his great sword. It materialized in his right hand. Dante's sword began to pulse and glow with a red-tinged aura. A wraith floated past Dante. The creature was nothing more than a dark shadow with a gaping hole for its mouth and hollow eye sockets. Dante attacked, jabbing his sword into the creature and it shrieked in pain before it disintegrated into nothingness. Dante smirked. _All too easy._

Dante went from floor to floor and hunted down all of the evil spirits, ghosts and wraiths that were haunting the place and destroyed them mercilessly one by one. He would have actually preferred living in a haunted building all by himself, but...the point of all this was that he was supposed to be living like a _human_. He also happened to be curious about what that would be like. Yes, he had plans for the apartment building. His lip twitched at the amusing thought.

Dante swung his glowing great sword through the air and sliced through evil spirit after evil spirit until sweat was beading on Dante's brow. His demonic energy was being drained. Once he was finished with the exorcism he would have no demonic power left. He almost pouted at the thought.

After several hours, Dante had finally managed to rid the place of every single evil spirit, wraith, and lesser demon. It was strange that so many evil spirits had been attracted to one particular place...but no matter. Dante chose an apartment on the top floor as his own. Since he was going to be the new landlord it was only right that he had dibs. He made his way into his new bedroom and used the last of his power to send his great sword to a pocket dimension. This was a little bit risky since the pocket dimension needed a lot of demonic power to open, but his sword would be safer there. If it fell into the hands of one of these weak-willed humans chaos would soon follow.

The apartment's layout was pretty standard with a foyer leading into a living room and open kitchen area. Towards the back of the apartment the bedroom and bathroom were located. There was also an empty room that Dante figured he could probably turn into his training room. Just because he wasn't leading a demonic army anytime soon didn't meant that he could let himself get out of shape.

The interior was covered in a thin layer of dust. There was some old furniture, and appliances that the previous residents had simply opted to leave behind. They probably thought the items had been cursed by the ghosts, or some such nonsense. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling here and there. He scowled when he realized he would have to clean those cobwebs by hand. He hadn't cleaned anything since...well, never to be honest. That's what servants were for after all. Ah, if Lucifer could see him now he'd be laughing his ass off.

As images of his castle bustling with servants and butlers to cater to his every whim filled his mind, Dante's lip curled with disgust as his eyes roved his new place of residence. "It's a hovel." The demon Duke couldn't help but remember his private bedchamber in Hell with its huge, canopied, four-poster bed and blood-red silken sheets. Red was Dante's favorite color. Sandalwood incense was always burning throughout his castle to mask the scents of rotting flesh, decay, sulfur and smoke that wafted through the windows. The heat inside of his castle was staggering but he'd gotten used to it.

In comparison, it was extremely cold up on the surface (aka Earth)...but it was also already the beginning of November. The human world had things called 'seasons'. Dante had already witnessed this before five hundred and eighty-four years ago. He'd seen how the Earth would change. The trees would begin to die, their leaves changing color in the most magnificent way. Fall in France had been really beautiful. He could still picture the trees with their orange, red and yellow leaves in his mind. Each leaf had been like a mini painting. Dante had always liked art.

But Dante knew that the weather would only grow colder and colder. It was a horrible time of year. Dante _hated_ the cold. His blood had thinned living in a place as hot as Hell. But he planned to grin and bear it. He was a demon Duke after all. There was no use moaning and groaning about the fact that the lesser demon had not opted to awaken him during the summer. Maybe he could stick his head inside of the appliance called an 'oven' every once in a while. Ah, it would remind him of home.

Dante reached out and wiped away a spider's web. The filmy substance was on his fingers. Disgusted, he wiped his hand off on his suit pants. He decided he'd worry about the filthy state of his apartment later. First, he needed to return to Central Park and speak with Fred. Dante left the building and made his way to Central Park. He entered the park and began to search around for Fred. He found the homeless man sleeping inside of a small, pitched up tent. Fred was snoring loudly. "Zzzz."

Dante kicked Fred unceremoniously awake by sending his boot crashing into the man's side. "Awaken immediately, old man. I need to speak with you."

"Ugh...five more minutes, mum." Fred groaned as he rolled over and put his back to Dante.

Dante's jaw popped in irritation. "I'm not your mother. Get up, foolish human." The demon kicked Fred's bum, hard.

"Ow! Hey! Alright already, I'm up, I'm up." Fred complained as he rubbed his sore ass and turned to face Dante with a grumpy expression on his face. "What is it, kid? Do you need your clothes? Did you find a place to stay? If not, you're welcome to stay here with us." Fred offered amiably, "I know it's not much but I can find a tent for you somewhere." He was already looking around the camp.

Dante stared at this strange human for a moment. It was odd that the man was being so nice to him when he obviously had nothing to gain from it. It made no sense. It also made Dante feel guilty that he'd been thinking about killing all these people when the Apocalypse began. This also surprised Dante since he'd never really experienced the sensation of guilt before. "Why are you being nice to me, old man?" Dante gave the man a suspicious look. "What do you think you'll get out of it?"

The old man blinked and shrugged. "Get out of it? Nothing, I guess. It's just...you remind me a little of myself when I was young. So full of potential and promise. Everyone has their ups and downs. I know you'll get back on your feet and become an incredible bartender, Dante. I just want to see that. See one of us make our dreams come true. That's all."

Dante stared at the old man. Fred thought he resembled a younger version of himself? How preposterous. Dante was a demon, but he found himself oddly... _touched_ by the old man's words. Did he want to be accepted by a human? How absurd.

"I see." Dante finally nodded. "By the way, I purchased a building - an old apartment building. I'm the new landlord."

Fred's eyes widened and he gave Dante an impressed look. "Wow...I didn't know you were so-" Fred cut himself off, coughing into his hand, and smiled at Dante instead. "Congrats, kid. You'll be able to make good money by renting the apartments out. Good for you." Even though Fred was smiling Dante noticed that the human sounded sad. "I guess I don't really need to worry about you after all. You seem to have things under control." Fred grabbed the _Armani_ shopping bag, crawled out of his tent, stood up, and handed Dante the bag. "Here you go, kid. I guess this is goodbye."

The man was looking rather crestfallen and this mystified Dante. Why would the human care about him? Worry about him? They barely knew each other. Again, it made no sense. "Why do you look sad, old man?"

"Ah, you noticed? I guess I'd never make a good poker player, that's for sure!" Fred scratched his head embarrassingly. "I guess, I'm just going to miss you. It'll be kind of lonely without you around. You made this place...lively."

_Lively?_ Dante raised an eyebrow at that. "Did I? How strange...but you're wrong, old man. I still need your help. In fact, I want all of you to help me."

"Oh? How?" Fred gave Dante a curious look.

"I want everyone here to move into my apartment building." The demon said simply.

Fred frowned. "But Dante...you know we can't afford something like that."

Dante shook his head. "I would charge...let's say a dollar per month. Would that work?"

Fred gawked at Dante and took a step back. "We'd basically be living there for free." Fred's voice was tinged with awe. He obviously liked the idea but then his expression fell and he gave Dante a suspicious look. "What's the catch?"

Dante smiled. "Everyone must ignore any strange...happenings. I have several powerful enemies. They may come after me. And I may have no choice but to fight them. I give you my word that I will protect everyone in the apartment building, but I need all of you as my cover that I am a normal human, er, person."

Fred gave Dante a pensive look. _Just what did this young man get himself involved in, I wonder? Drugs? Weapons trafficking? The mafia? But it seems like whatever he was involved in he wants to turn over a new leaf. Start over with a fresh slate, and_ _why not?_ _Everyone deserves a second chance._ Fred eventually nodded. "Alright...I get it. That's very generous of you, Dante. Are you sure we all won't just be in your way? It would be more profitable to have paying tenants."

Dante shook his head. "I rather be surrounded by all of you in my home instead of some random humans, er, people I cannot trust. You all gave me food, shelter, and a place to stay when I had nothing. Now I can pay you all back."

The corners of Fred's lips dipped into a frown. "We weren't nice to you to get paid back." The old said with a huff as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Dante chuckled in amusement and his laugh was warm rather than its usual cruel tone. "I know, which is strange, and why I wish to help you all out even more. By allowing me to help all of you, you all will actually be helping me. A fair trade, I think. Also, I need a consultant about this world, er, country, Fred. It is so different from He- er, France." The demon faltered over his last words.

Fred nodded knowingly. "I understand, kid. You don't need to say more. We'll have your back." The old man grinned broadly revealing the gaps in his teeth. "I'll have to tell my wife the good news!"

"Wife?" Dante raised an eyebrow at Fred and looked surprised.

"Yea, Hilda is my wifey." Fred informed Dante with an expectant look on his face as if the demon should have figured this out already. "Though she likes to forget that fact since I'm nothing but a deadbeat loser now."

Dante's lip twitched. "I see. Perhaps...you will no longer be a deadbeat loser."

"Ha! That'll be the day. I'll go tell everyone the good news!" Fred rushed off to eagerly inform all of the homeless people, who were currently living in Central Park, of Dante's good fortune. Fred also explained to them how the young man had purchased an apartment building, and wanted them to all live there for 'almost free' aka one dollar per month. At first, a heavy silence had descended upon everyone. They hadn't known how to react to the news or the offer. But then again, they realized what did they have to lose? The answer to that was simple: nothing. That's why they quickly became enthusiastic about the idea.

Hilda put a hand on her hip and was giving her husband Fred a skeptical look. For all she knew Fred could have been drinking heavily again and he was having one of his delusions. "What's the catch? Is he a human trafficker or something?"

Fred let out a heavy sigh and looked over at Dante who was standing several feet away from them. "Apparently Dante has made some dangerous enemies that might come after him. They're from France...maybe they're assassins or spies or something. Anyways, we're supposed to just look the other way if a fight goes down."

"Crazy French mafia." "Do the French even have mafia?" "Hell if I know." "French spies more likely...or French terrorists!" The homeless people began to enthusiastically speculate on who Dante's enemies were.

Dante could hear everything the humans were saying and was forced to hide a smile behind his hand. The humans were coming up with a better cover story for himself than he would have been able to come up with on his own.

Hilda let out a huff. "Well, it's not like our lives aren't in danger everyday anyways. And with winter approaching only about half of us would have made it, so what do we have to lose?"

"What do you all say, everyone?" Fred asked loudly.

"Yea! We'll go!" "Count me in!" "Dante is a great guy!" "Yea, thank God for Dante!" "Heaven sent Dante to help us!" "He's an angel."

Fred gave everyone a curious look at that. _Angel, huh? I wonder._

_Angel?_ Dante's eyes twinkled in amusement. These humans were quite funny. And awful judges of character!

Fred walked over to tell Dante everyone's decision. "Everyone has agreed to go with you, Dante."

Dante nodded. He'd already heard everything. "Good. Tell everyone to pack up their belongings and follow me. We leave immediately."

Fred blinked at Dante in surprise before he gave the demon a salute. "Aye, aye, sir!" Fred hobbled off to tell the others Dante's instructions.

Dante made himself comfortable on a park bench and watched as the homeless people (or rather former homeless people) began to pack up their meager belongings and tents. There were mostly elderly people, however, there were a few teenagers and even children among them. It was signs like this that made Dante recall that the Apocalypse was drawing near. Regardless, he wanted to enjoy every moment as a _human_ that he could until that day.

When everyone was packed and ready to go, the people began to follow Dante out of Central Park. It reminded Dante of the human fairytale 'The Pied Piper'. He was leading the humans somewhere...and could have very well been leading them to their doom. They were certainly much too trusting. If this had occurred more than five centuries ago, Dante probably would have been leading them to their doom. Although as fate would have it he was leading them to their salvation. It was quite ironic.

"This is it." Dante waved his hand at the tall, seven-story, red brick building that was located in South Bronx, when they reached it. Everyone looked up at the building with wide eyes full of hope. It was strange to be inciting such an emotion in humans when really Dante had only ever incited fear or abject terror.

Fred let out a whistle. Hilda was at his side with a wide smile on her face. She even had her arm looped through Fred's, Dante noticed.

"The rent will technically be one dollar per month." Dante explained to the group of humans. "Otherwise this wouldn't be legal. Is that alright, Fred?"

Fred nodded. "That should be just fine. Thank you, Dante. You're going to help a lot of these people get back on their feet, and maybe afterwards they'll even be able to pay you the rent you deserve."

Dante waved his hand dismissively through the air. Money was truly no object to him anyways. But if he was truly going to blend in with the humans it would be better to earn it just like everyone else. It would be a valuable experience. If they could do it, he could do it. "Everyone can feel free to pick out whatever apartment they wish to stay in. You all can also keep whatever furniture and appliances were left behind by the previous tenants."

"Hey, I know this place." A skinny teenaged boy with shaggy, orange-brown hair and wide brown eyes that had dark circles beneath them spoke up in a tremulous voice. "Isn't it supposed to be haunted?"

A cat-that-ate-the-canary smile formed on Dante's lips. "Not to worry, young one, the ghosts have all been taken care of."

The teen blinked at Dante in confusion, but Dante's confidence seemed to assuage his fears. He was soon smiling tremulously back at the demon. Dante couldn't help but notice the boy's hollowed cheeks and skinny physique.

Fred gave Dante a searching look. "Are you a priest or a mafia heir? I'm confused."

Dante let out a bark of laughter at that. "I wonder!" Amusing humans indeed.

The group entered the apartment building, and began to inspect the various floors as well as the available apartments before choosing the ones they wanted to live in. After everyone had selected an apartment they immediately began to clean them.

_Humans._ Dante shook his head as he returned to his own apartment. He sighed heavily as he entered and looked around at all the work he had to do. He'd never done something as humble as housecleaning before and was reluctant to do it. He was incredibly tempted to summon his demon butler from Hell, but...then Lucifer would know where he was. For the time being he wanted to stay under Lucifer's radar.

Just as Dante was starting to clean, there was knock on his door. Curious, Dante approached the door and opened it to see Fred, Hilda and some of the others. "Yes?" Dante asked warily, noticing the smiles on their faces. In Hell when a demon smiled it was _never_ a good thing and bloodshed and screams were soon to follow.

Hilda held up a cleaning bucket and a mop while Fred held up a can of _Scrubbing Bubbles_. "To show you our appreciation for everything you've done for us, please allow us to help clean your apartment." Hilda insisted with an eager look on her face.

He tried not to look too happy with this turn of events. Dante shrugged in a careless manner. "As you wish."

Fred chuckled since to him the young man's relief was obvious, even to him. "That was easier than I thought it would be. Don't like to clean, aye Dante?" The old man teased.

Busted. "No. I've just never done it before." Dante drawled casually.

Hilda laughed. "That's a young mafia boss for you!" She rolled up her sleeves. "Alright let's get to work everyone! I want this place swept, mopped and dusted until it sparkles!"

"Yea!" The others cried out in agreement and held up their own mops and brooms.

Suddenly, Dante was reminded of a time when he'd been greatly injured, had somehow lost his horse and ended up too close to a human village. The French villagers had roused together and chased Dante through the woods with pitchforks, blazing torches and swords held high in their hands. He shuddered at the remembrance. It had felt pathetic to be running from a group of mere humans at the time, but he'd pushed himself too far during the battle where he'd gotten wounded. "Mafia boss?" Dante echoed and shook his head to dispel it of his dark thoughts.

Fred laughed nervously. "Don't worry, Dante, your secret is safe with us."

Dante gave Fred a bemused look as he walked over to the couch and reclined upon it. "Indeed." Even though the couch was in tatters he still managed to look like some kind of deposed prince.

It took several hours for Hilda, Fred and the others to clean Dante's apartment. Afterwards, they cooked dinner using his kitchen without his permission (not that he really minded). Fred watched the women in the kitchen and a twinkle came to his eyes. "This looks like it's going to be a party. And what every party needs is a spiked punch bowl. Do you remember the recipe for a Long Island Iced Tea, Dante?" Fred asked the demon.

Dante nodded. "Yes. Long Island Iced Tea. Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Pour one ounce of vodka, one ounce of gin, one ounce of white rum, one ounce of white tequila, a half an ounce of Triple Sec and the juice of two squeezed lemons into the shaker. Cover and shake vigorously to combine and chill. Pour the mixture, ice and all, into two glasses and top off with coca-cola. Garnish with lemon wedges."

"Well done." Fred gave Dante a proud look. "Now I'm going to teach you how to make Jungle Juice Long Island Iced Tea! A bartender called Tipsy Bartender came up with this recipe. First we need a large punch bowl." Fred went over and found a large glass bowl in one of the cabinets and carried it over to the kitchen island before setting it down. "Now, slice two oranges and place the slices inside of the punch bowl." Fred explained as he sliced the oranges and placed them into the bowl. "Next put one bag of ice into the bowl." Fred dumped an entire bag of ice into the punch bowl.

"Now for the fun part, add an entire bottle of orange vodka, a bottle of gin, a bottle of triple sec, a bottle of Bacardi white rum, a bottle of tequila, an entire carton of lemonade, a carton of pink lemonade, a small bottle of orange juice, and to keep things authentic a couple of cans of coca cola!" Fred began to pick up the various bottles of alcohol and simple began to empty them out into the punch bowl. Steam rose up from the ice as Fred poured the alcohol into the bowl.

"Whoo! Fred what are you doing, man?" "That looks totally badass!" A couple of young men cheered Fred on.

Hilda caught sight of what Fred was doing and her lips thinned into a grim line. "Fred! Just what do you think you're doing? That is a month's supply of booze for the entire community. You can't just waste it all in one go like that."

"Don't be such a bah humbug, woman!" Fred argued as he continued to pour another bottle into the punch bowl. "This is a party. A celebration. And we haven't had a reason to celebrate...in like forever. We have a roof over our heads for the winter. Tell me that isn't cause for celebration?" Fred gave Hilda an expectant look.

Hilda sighed. "I suppose you're right...alright fine. Waste all our booze. What do I care?"

"Yea! Pour! Pour! Pour!" The humans chanted as Fred made the drink.

Dante had to admit the drink looked like it was going to be incredibly strong. It might even have the ability to make even him tipsy. After the coca-cola was added the drink was completed, the entire mixture was stirred, and Fred began to serve everyone glasses. Once everyone had a glass in hand Fred raised his glass into the air. "To Dante!"

"To Dante!" Everyone echoed.

Dante's eyes widened at the humans in surprise, and a strange warm feeling washed through him. He took a gulp of the drink and his eyes widened even more. It was strong as shit! "Good." He said and everyone started laughing for some reason.

After that everyone gathered around the dinning room table and Hilda served them plates of food. Dante had taken the largest dinning room table that had been left behind in the apartment building as his own. Dante ate slowly and pensively while surrounded by smiling and chattering humans. The food was surprisingly good and Fred had helped to prepare it. The food was met with several compliments, and Fred was happy to get the chance to tell everyone about how he used to own his own restaurant and how before that he'd worked as a bartender. "Tom Arnold, Sandra Bullock, Chevy Chase, Bill Cosby, Kris Kristofferson, and Bruce Willis are all former bartenders!"

Dante had no idea who those people were, but he smiled and nodded like everyone else. He'd been surprisingly hungry. His human body was a bit of a hassle. It was strange eating among humans, but not...unpleasant. They were simple creatures, but not bad people. They had accepted him, thanked him, and helped him. The humans also seemed comfortable in his presence. He must have been doing a good job of acting _human_. Tomorrow he decided that he would go out into the city and try to get a job as a bartender at a pub or bar, and he would let nothing stand in his way.

***

The following day, Dante asked Fred to help him make a resume so that he could go job hunting. Fred gave Dante a blank resume to fill out and Dante did so, as follows:

Resume:

Name: _Dante Cromwell_

Address: _South Bronx, you need not know more_

City, State, Zip: _New York City, New York_

Phone: _You need not know, I shall not answer your call_

Email address: _Unnecessary._

Objective: _My objective is to become the greatest bartender in New York City._

Education: _Private tutors and years of self-study._

_Education._ Dante thought back to his private tutors in Hell. Dante had studied even as an adult. They had taught him everything: history, science, and languages (both demon and human). He also read every single book he could get his hands on, and had been especially interested in books smuggled into Hell from Earth. Human books were truly fascinating. Especially those 'paranormal romance' stories where demons and humans would oftentimes fall in love. Reading these books had been a secret pleasure of Dante's and if anyone had discovered his secret he would have killed them on the spot. A demon and a human falling in love was something that had never actually happened before. Or at least Dante had never heard of such a case.

Dante could understand why Lucifer had usurped control of the Earth from God. It was a hell of a place to have dominion over. But in order to have enough power to do this - Lucifer had had no choice but to turn against God and embrace a power completely contrary but equal to God's holy power: Evil.

Lucifer had chosen to be 'evil' for the sake of the power it would grant him to stand up to God. Lucifer hadn't necessarily liked 'evil things' such as hate, anger, and chaos, but he merely considered embracing evil as a means to an end. He saw it as a way to gain enough power to challenge God and take control of the Earth.

The Earth was presently in Lucifer's hands, under his control, so to speak. But with evil came the consequence of destruction. The easily-influenced humans were currently destroying and ravaging the Earth with their bloody, brutal, pointless wars. They were doing Lucifer's work and it made the Ruler of Hell quite happy.

Dante couldn't help but feel it was a waste. The Earth had once been so beautiful but he supposed this was an odd thought for a demon to have. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Lucifer was damaging his own prize.

From as far back as Dante could remember he was Lucifer's best friend. Before his time in Hell...he could not recall his previous life. Had he been a sinful human? Or an Archangel? Dante could not be sure and his friend Lucifer would not tell him. Lucifer claimed that this was for Dante's own good and went on to claim that Dante had requested that Lucifer keep his memories for him in a locket Lucifer wore around his neck.

Lucifer had told Dante about what had happened in the heavens. Lucifer claimed that he hadn't wanted to be considered a 'lesser being' to God. He'd wanted God to acknowledge his power, value, strength, and worth. That's why Lucifer chose to defy and challenge God. Lucifer and one-third of the Archangels in Heaven had chosen to go against God and his loyal Archangels, but Lucifer had been defeated. In fact, it had been the Archangel Michael who had delivered the finishing blow to Lucifer, which expelled him from Heaven.

Dante had met Michael for the very first time when Jeanne had sealed him to that damned fig tree over five hundred years ago, and the Archangel had cast a spell of enchanted sleep upon him. To him, the angel hadn't seemed badass enough to defeat Lucifer and he wondered how the hell the angel had managed it. He couldn't forget that look of longing Michael had held in his gaze as he'd watched Jeanne walk away from him.

Lucifer and his comrades may have been cast down to Hell, but the war was far from over. In fact it was just beginning. Lucifer was biding his time, rebuilding the strength of his armies and preparing for the Apocalypse. Lucifer and Dante had fought several battles in Hell side-by-side. Dante had fought against Lucifer's enemies and gained new allies. These times were some of Dante's earliest memories in Hell.

Dante was supposed to be a being of _pure_ evil. But there had been...moments where Dante had questioned the 'truth' of his own existence. Dante had fought for Lucifer and killed many demons and humans, but Dante refused to kill women or children. This was the code that he lived by. His creed. He left such cowardly work to his subordinates if they needed to be done. But why did it bother him if he was a being of _pure evil_? He sometimes wondered. This caused him to doubt the path he was on, the one he'd chosen according to Lucifer. But there was no turning back now and Dante knew that he had no chance for forgiveness in the eyes of God.

Thousands of years later, he'd met her - God's Chosen Warrior, Jeanne d'Arc. A _female_ warrior. Lucifer had ordered Dante to kill God's Chosen Warrior. And God had assigned Jeanne with defeating Dante's army. Had God known of Dante's weakness? Was that why he'd sent Jeanne against him? Had God been laughing at him in Heaven? God must have known Dante would not be able to kill Jeanne d'Arc hence she was the perfect weapon for his destruction. And if Dante were to be destroyed...Dante decided that to die at Jeanne d'Arc's hands would be the best way to go. No one else would ever be able to destroy him. _Only her_.

Because of Jeanne, Dante had defied Lucifer for the very first time. He'd called a truce between Jeanne's army and his own, and then gone to Hell to speak to Lucifer about ending the Apocalypse. Predictably, Lucifer hadn't been too keen on the idea and the two of them had fought a fierce battle. Dante had surprisingly won the battle but Lucifer had kept him in Hell for several days afterwards. By the time Dante returned to Earth and found Jeanne...something was wrong. Jeanne attacked him, stabbed him with her holy sword, and sealed him to a tree. Archangel Michael had then cast a spell and put him into an enchanted sleep. Five hundred and eighty-four years later a lesser demon had broken the seal and he'd woken up. _That witch betrayed me._ This had been Dante's first vehement thought.

Jeanne's betrayal... _hurt_. And Dantalion didn't understand it...didn't understand why he felt that way. What was this feeling? This emotion? Swirling inside of him, trying to overtake him? Love? Ha. Demons weren't capable of love.

Career/Highlights/Qualifications: _Great Duke of Hell, Commander of thirty-six legions_

Dantalion looked down at the 'Career/Highlights/Qualifications' section. And jotted down 'Great Duke of Hell' and 'Commander of thirty-six legions'.

Experience:

1400-1430

Commander of the Serpent Legion

To destroy Jeanne d'Arc

1300-1400

France

Commander of the Famine Legion

Commander of the Black Death Legion

1200-1300

France

Commander of the Anti-Crusaders Legion

1100-1200

France

Commander of the Anti-Crusaders Legion

Under the experience section Dante began to summarize his experience as a commander of various legions with different purposes. For thousands of years Dante fought and killed for Lucifer. Over and over again he would kill and destroy. At some point it had become...tedious. His blood had stopped boiling with excitement right before a battle. Nothing was a challenge anymore. It was just too _easy_ to be evil. He'd decided.

That's when Dante had a sudden, wild, outrageous idea. Would it be more of a challenge to try and be...good? Could a demon - a being of pure evil - even do something like that? What would happen to that demon? Would he simply cease to exist?

These had been only passing thoughts, whimsies of Dante's because he knew that he'd never escape Hell or Lucifer's grasp. There was nowhere for him to escape except perhaps Earth. But how could a demon hope to fit in with the humans anyways? It was simply impossible. Only now Dante was inside of a human body. Lucifer had granted his wish unknowingly. He felt giddy at the thought.

Skills: _Trained in the art of combat, assassination, swordsmanship, torture, interrogation, spying, infiltration, martial arts, weapons mastery, hypnosis, mind reading, mind control, demon slaying, dragon slaying, dragon riding, exorcism, building furniture, painting and withstanding extreme temperatures._

Awards and Honors: _Satanic Medal of Honor, Satanic Medal of Bloodthirstiness, Satanic Medal of Victory_

Dantalion listed all of the medals Lucifer had awarded him for his victories in the battles he'd fought for his friend. The humans had a phrase for what he'd become - a 'killing machine'. But was this what Dante wanted to be? A mindless pawn of Lucifer's? A tool and nothing more?

Pale green eyes...had made him doubt _everything_. He'd questioned everything about himself and his purpose. Those fierce eyes...he would probably never see them again since Jeanne was most likely at God's side in Heaven. Heaven...was a place he'd never get to set foot in. _I'll never be able to see her again._

Dante looked down at his resume and frowned. _Damnation!_ He realized that he obviously couldn't show this resume to a human. He then deduced that he would just have to lie about a lot of the information to seem more 'normal'...more 'human'. What a strange thought that was.

Resume Version 2:

Name: _Dante Cromwell_

Address: _South Bronx, you need not know more_

City, State, Zip: _New York City, New York_

Phone: _You need not know, I shall not answer your call_

Email address: _Unnecessary_

Objective: _My objective is to become the greatest bartender in New York City...and then the world._

Education: _The Sorbonne High School, Paris 8 University_

Career: _French Army - Armée de Terre_

Experience: _Officer in the Troops de Marine_

Other skills: _Bartending and mixing drinks. I have more than two hundred drinks memorized. Martial arts, weapons training, and combat training from my time in the army._

Awards and Honors: _French Medal of Honor_

Dante looked down at his second resume and couldn't really find any flaws with it per say that a human might have with it. He smiled smugly to himself. He was a genius.

Dressed in a slick, _Armani_ suit, and with a briefcase in his hand, which contained several copies of his new and improved resume, Dante left his apartment building. He walked down 7th Street with purposeful steps. Dante had already perused the classifieds section in the _New York Times_ , and checked which bars and pubs in the area needed a new bartender. That morning he'd made several appointments to be interviewed later that same day.

Dante was currently heading to _McSorley's Old Ale House_ for his first scheduled interview of the day. The exterior of the pub had large front windows, the lattices had been painted black, and the pub's name had been painted in big white letters on a dark green section of the front of the building. Dante made his way inside and had one of the waitresses fetch the manager.

The manager, who introduced himself as Shay, led Dante to his office. Shay took a seat behind the desk while Dante took a seat in one of the two armchairs that were situated in front of the desk. Shay was a slightly overweight man in his late thirties with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. Dante handed Shay a copy of his resume and the manager wasted no time in asking Dante a few questions.

Shay gave the handsome young man in front of him a scrutinizing look. Dante looked more like a businessman, a lawyer perhaps than a bartender. "Tell me about yourself." _Or maybe he's a cocky model._ _I hate pretty boys. They think they're all that._

"I...am extremely capable in whatever I set out to do whether it's winning a battle or...making a drink to absolute perfection." Dante began confidently.

_Cocky punk._ Shay thought, feeling irritated already. "Do you have any experience with customer service? If so, in what capacity?"

Dante thought about this question for a moment. 'Customer service' was the task of dealing with humans... _nicely_. "Not much...but I'm sure I will learn quickly." _Not killing them anymore has to be a good start._

_Zero experience then. Useless SOB._ The manager thought. "How often do you drink?"

Dante wasn't sure what the purpose of this question was but decided to answer honestly. "I am a social drinker and I drink when I have cause to celebrate. I also drink when I am testing out new drink combinations but I don't drink in excess."

_At least he doesn't sound like an alcoholic._ "How will you ensure that you prepare drinks to this pub's standards?"

"By following the instructions as written in the drink mixing books to the letter."

_Smartass._ "Do you believe the customer is always right?" The manager gave Dante an intent look. The guy was so cocky and full of himself that Shay was curious to see how Dante would respond.

Dante blinked. _What a silly question._ The demon thought and smiled with assurance before responding. _When could a human always be right?_ "No, of course not."

_Wrong answer, buddy._ "How long have you been mixing drinks?" Shay asked in a now bored tone.

Dante noticed the man's change in tone and frowned. "I learned how to mix drinks a few days ago but I've already memorized over two hundred recipes."

_And apparently he's a liar._ "Have you ever experienced conflict with a coworker? How did you handle it?" Shay had a list of interview questions memorized and was simply going through the motions now.

"I killed him." The words slipped out of Dante's mouth before he could stop himself.

The manager gawked, and his jaw dropped. "You're joking, right?"

_Damnation!_ Dante realized his mistake and quickly tried to correct it. "Ah...yes, of course. I...handled it in a gentlemanly manner. We... _talked_ things out." _I separated his head from his shoulders but...whatever._

Shay sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. _He could be a delinquent. Well, it says on his resume that he was in the French Army. He probably has violent tendencies._ "What do you think you can bring to this pub?"

"The man who will become the greatest bartender in New York City." Dante puffed up his chest with pride.

_Cocky punk._ "What are your strengths and weaknesses?"

"I'm extremely intelligent, hardworking, handsome, physically fit, and strong." Dante decided not to list all of his good points since the list would go on forever and they didn't have all day. Dante thought about his weaknesses and realized he didn't have any. Unless of course you included Jeanne d'Arc. But this mere human didn't need to know about that. "I have no weaknesses." _I was trained to have no weaknesses. If I do have a weakness it would probably be Jeanne. But she's no longer in this world._

_I have no weaknesses? Can I just punch this guy already?_ "What skills and technologies are you most interested in improving upon or learning?"

"I wish to learn how to make more drinks, and I want to invent some drink recipes of my own." Dante smiled. He was feeling pretty confident that this manager would hire him. He'd executed the human interview perfectly after all.

Shay nodded, stood up, and offered Dante his hand over his desk. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Cromwell."

Dante took the man's hand and shook it. "Did I get the job?"

Shay snorted. "Confident, aren't you? But I'm sorry. I'm going to have to say 'no'." The manager cackled at that. _Dumbass._

Dante blinked and gave the manager a surprised look. "You don't wish to hire me, but why?" _This makes no sense._

Shay rolled his eyes. "If you don't know why I decided _not_ to hire you then...you're an _idiot_!"

Dante's golden eyes narrowed dangerously at this audacious human. "Did you just call _me_ an idiot?" Before the demon could think about what he was doing his hand shot out, grabbed the manager's shirt collar, and he lifted Shay off the floor.

Shay's eyes were wide with fear, but even through his fear he smiled. "Ha! You see, I was right about you! Who wants a violent psycho working for them?"

_Violent psycho?_ Dante mused and scowled.

"You'd better let me go or I'm going to sue your ass, buddy. For assault." Shay warned with a haughty expression on his face.

_Sue? Ah, as in a lawsuit. I've killed humans for less of an insult than this. Surely, he's overreacting. What kind of a man can't handle an internal dispute like this by himself without having to get the law involved? A coward. That's who. Humans...I don't understand them at all._ Dante reluctantly set the manager down on the floor and turned to go. Disappointment swirled in his chest. He ignored the insults Shay threw at his back and resisted the urge to just turn back around and dismember the idiot. Slowly.

_No, no, no, I can't do things like that anymore. I'm trying to live as a human now._ _I have to play nice with the humans._ Dante reprimanded himself. The demon Duke left _McSorley's Old Ale House_ and decided to head on over to _Molly's Pub & Restaurant_ where his next job interview was scheduled next. He entered the pub, greeted the manager, and was taken to the man's office. The interview began and the questions were pretty much the same as Shay's. Dante answered in the same way but made sure not to mention killing anyone. Even so the end result was surprisingly the same. He was rejected.

Dante left the pub feeling disheartened. It just didn't make any sense why these pathetic humans didn't want to hire him. He was obviously more than qualified for this simple job. Couldn't they see that? Or were they really just that stupid?

Dante went on several more job interviews at various pubs and restaurants after that. Other managers interviewed him and asked different questions, but the end results were always the same. He was rejected. Dante began to wonder if perhaps these humans could somehow sense that he was not truly _human_? Was that why they were rejecting him?

Dante finished his final scheduled interview for the day and decided to head home. His shoulders were slumped and his posture was dejected as he walked down the sidewalk. He'd never been so...depressed before. He'd never felt this strange emotion before either. The Great Duke of Hell was not used to defeat. He'd never before failed in anything he'd set his mind to do. He'd never lost a fight or a battle. Had he really failed? No way. Dantalion did not _fail_. Ever.

That's when Dante sensed something...odd. A malevolent energy was coming from somewhere close by. Dante walked down the sidewalk and followed the energy until he came to _Dullahan's Irish Pub_. Dante looked at the rundown Irish pub curiously. It was a tall, brick building with large front windows, and an oval-shaped wooden sign was swinging above the front door. The sign was faded, but Dante was able to make out the headless horsewoman riding a demonic horse. Dante squinted at the head the woman was carrying and noted her strawberry blonde hair. _How morbid. I like it._

Dante gazed upon the establishment curiously. This pub had been cursed but the curse had recently been broken. The place had probably been crawling with evil spirits but currently there were none to be seen. Someone had broken the curse and exorcised all of the evil spirits. Although there was some lingering malevolent energy about the place that made Dante wonder if the curse had really been broken at all.

Dante wondered about who had exorcised the place. It would have taken a very powerful priest or perhaps a witch. _Curious._ Dante thought as he worried his thumb and index finger over his jaw. _I wonder who did this?_ Dante had become even more intrigued by this strange pub and a smile curled his lips. _I think I like this dark, mysterious place. And I think I sense a malevolent presence within...but I might be mistaken. I must know more._

That's when Dante noticed the 'Help Wanted' sign in the front window. Apparently the owner of the pub was looking for a male bartender. Perhaps, this was fate? Although, Dante didn't believe in fate. He believed in carving his own path through life with his sword and making his own destiny.

To be continued...in Drink 4: Scarlet O'Hara

Dantalion: "Good evening, inferior human, so you wish to know how to make a Long Island Iced Tea? Well, fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Then pour 1 ounce of vodka, 1 ounce of gin, 1 ounce of white rum, and a 1/2 ounce of tequila, a 1/2 ounce of Triple Sec and 2 tablespoons of freshly squeezed lime juice into the shaker. Cover and shake vigorously to combine and chill. Pour the mixture, ice and all, into two glasses or beer mugs and top off with the cola. Garnish with the lemon wedges. Serve and enjoy."

### Chapter 4: Scarlet O'Hara

Dante entered _Dullahan's Irish Pub_. There were no customers. A bartender, who was currently playing around on his laptop while using facebook, was standing behind the bar. The bartender was a tall, tan, muscular man with a buzz cut, who was wearing a muscle shirt to show off his bulging biceps. He was covered in tattoos. Dante didn't know much about the human society of this era, but he had the feeling that his young man was of a _lower class_ than most. _He looks like a scoundrel._

A slightly overweight looking waitress was texting on her smart phone when she looked up and spotted Dante as he entered. Her eyes seemed to rake over him, and turn into dollar signs. She was wearing a dark green tank top that was too small for her since her breasts were practically spilling out of the front of her shirt, and a mini skirt that was much too small for her body weight (in Dante's not-so humble opinion). She was also covered in tattoos.

There was also a shorthaired waitress nearby wiping down tables diligently. She also looked oddly familiar. That bob of brown hair. Her tall, sleek physique. She was wearing skinny jeans, a dark green tank top that said _Dullahan's_ on it in white letters, and a pair of knee boots with three-inch heels. _She has nice legs._ Dante blinked, surprised at his own thoughts.

Abruptly, the other waitress, Jenny, was standing in front of Dante and blocking his view of the waitress with the nice legs in a rather annoying manner.

"Hey, hun, can I get you a table?" Jenny asked as she leaned over slightly to show off her cleavage to Dante.

"I'm here to speak to your manager about the bartending position that is available." Dante explained gruffly and crossed his arms over his broad chest in a subconscious gesture to distance himself from this aggressive female.

Jenny's confident expression faltered before it immediately brightened again. Suddenly curious about what the young woman could be thinking Dante decided to use the small burst of power he'd harvested from Shay, who he'd scared earlier, in order to read the woman's mind.

The wheels were turning in her surprisingly calculating mind. _Oh, he's not a customer. Damn, I won't be getting any tips. He looks like a big spender too. But then again he wants to work here and he looks loaded. I could dump Franky's ass, seduce this hunk, and make him mine. But he wants to see our pathetic boss first._

Dante heard her every nasty thought. The demon frowned. He decided to read everyone's mind this time around to give him an edge during the interview and to see what the hell he'd been doing wrong.

"Ah, you'll want to speak to our boss, Alan Dullahan. We don't have a manager here anymore. ALAN! GET OUT HERE!" Jenny yelled out while not taking her eyes off of Dante. There was a sly smirk on her face as if Dante would be impressed by her loud and obnoxious vocal chords. The demon was not.

Dante sighed. _Human females._

"C-Coming!" Alan's voice came from the back of the establishment. Alan emerged from his office and made his way into the main restaurant area. He spotted Dante, and looked him over. His expression revealed that he was impressed but also a little wary. _He's dressed nice. He's handsome too. I wonder why he's here? Oh crap! Is he a bill collector!_ Alan began to inwardly panic.

Dante chuckled softly to himself. This young man intrigued him. He appeared to be in his early twenties and yet was the owner of this establishment. Alan had shaggy, blonde hair that was covering the left side of his face, bright blue eyes, and extremely pale skin. He was wearing a dark green and white striped sweater, a pair of tight, black jeans, and sneakers. Dante strode forward towards the young man. "Greetings." He put out his hand. "I'm Dante Cromwell. I saw your 'Help Wanted' sign outside. I'm interested in the bartending position. I'm not a bill collector."

Alan blinked at Dante and laughed. "Oh, thank God! Phew!" He let out a breath of relief and wiped some imaginary sweat from his brow with the back of his head. Alan offered Dante a warm smile before shaking his hand next. "I'm the owner of a this pub, Alan Dullahan." He let Dante's hand go. "If you'll accompany me to my office I'll interview you there?"

Dante nodded. "Certainly."

Alan began to lead the way to his office. However, the shorthaired waitress from before suddenly stood in his way, hands on her hips, and a fierce look in her...pale green eyes.

Dante froze. _Those eyes._

"You!" Joan began as she jabbed her finger into Dante's rock hard chest. "What the heck are _you_ doing here?" She demanded.

Dante blinked at the feisty waitress and arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm here for a job interview, Miss...?"

Joan gawked at him as if she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. "A job interview?" Her eyes narrowed at him in obvious suspicion.

Alan had turned back around and was looking at the exchange curiously. "Is there a problem Joan? Do you know him?"

"Do I know him? I...!" Joan struggled to form words. "You can't hire him, Alan! He's a-!" She bit her lower lip in order to cut herself off and looked at a loss of what she should say.

Dante's eyebrow rose even higher. _I'm a what? And her name is Joan...and she has the same green eyes. God is probably doing this to torture me. What an awful coincidence, though nothing more. My Jeanne is dead._

"Yes?" Alan pressed and was looking slightly amused. "He's a what Joan?"

Joan huffed and gave Dante a conflicted look. "Nothing. Never mind."

Alan shrugged, still smiling, and continued on his way.

Joan grabbed Dante's shoulder as he passed her by. "I'm keeping my eyes on you. If you hurt him..." She trailed off in a deadly tone.

Dante's golden eyes flickered with surprise. Had this young woman just threatened him? "Why would I hurt him?" His voice was low, gruff.

"Because he's a good person." Joan huffed as if it were obvious.

_A good person aye?_ A smile curled Dante's lips. "Do not worry Miss. I will not harm your boss." That said Dante strolled off after Alan.

Alan ushered Dante into his office and offered him a seat with a wave of his hand. Alan took a seat behind his desk while Dante sat down in the worn, leather armchair that sat in front of a very messy desk. There on the desk were stacks of paper that looked like they were about to fall over, and stacks of books that looked equally precariously placed. Dante looked around at the bookshelves and saw that they were stuffed full with books. There were so many books that they didn't all fit in the bookshelves and so had ended up in piles on the floor. The sight caused Dante's lip to twitch. It reminded him of a human friend he'd had centuries ago who'd been a philosopher. _Solomon..._

Alan took out a list of questions that Joan had helped him to come up with for the interview. He cleared his throat and began. Dante had already handed Alan a copy of his resume and he had it sitting in front of him. "Tell me about yourself." Alan started.

"I...am extremely capable in whatever I set out to do whether it's winning a battle or...making a drink to absolute perfection." There was a twinkle in Dante's golden eyes as he thought about mixing drinks.

_He's confident. That's nice. I wish I had his kind of confidence._ Alan mentally pouted. "You won a lot of battles overseas?" He asked curiously.

Dante nodded. "Yes."

Alan smiled. "Impressive." _I wish I were stronger. I could never hope to beat someone up. I was always the one getting beat up in high school. Actually they still beat me up in college too. I'm such a nerd._ Alan shook his head from the dark memories. "Do you have experience with customer service? If so, in what capacity?"

Dante shook his head. "Not much...but I'm sure I will learn quickly."

_He's honest._ Alan nodded in approval. "Whatever you need to know I can teach you. I'm pretty good at dealing with people. Well, except for when I'm feeling shy." Alan laughed in a self-deprecating manner. "Do you drink often?"

"Not as a pastime really, but when I'm researching new possible drink combinations - yes." Dante explained as he raked a hand back through his wavy black hair.

"Cool. It'd be awesome if you could come up with some new drinks for our drink menu. I'll skip the next question since I trust in your abilities." Alan's blue eyes scanned down the list of interview questions. "Do you believe the customer is always right?"

"No, of course not." The demon quickly responded.

"Bzzt." Alan made the sound of a buzzer going off, "Wrong answer. In retail and the public service industry - the customer _is_ always right. For example, let's say your customer orders a Rum Punch. They taste it and say they don't like it. What would you do?"

Dante blinked, brow furrowed. "I would tell them they had defective taste buds?"

Alan broke out laughing at that and it took several minutes until he was able to get himself under control. He gripped his sides and took deep breaths. "Funny, but no...you would ask what they didn't like about it and try to change the drink to suit their tastes. For example, replacing the white rum for a darker rum. Some women prefer a less strong rum in their drinks...and of course you would only charge them for the drink they consumed and _not_ the one you were forced to throw away."

A scowl formed on Dante's face. "But that's...illogical. Won't you lose money?"

Alan shrugged. "Not in the long run. The woman will be a happy customer and so when she leaves she'll come back and maybe even bring her friends or recommend our bar to other people. She'll probably also leave a big tip. Good customer service always pays off in the end. Now, if you'd refused to make her a new drink _and_ charged her for the lousy drink, she would have left as a disappointed customer and would have told all her friends _not_ to come here. You see?" Alan gave Dante an expectant look.

Dante stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "I see. I understand. That actually makes sense."

Alan let out a sad little sigh. "Unfortunately, we have a lot of work to do. Ever since my older brother died and I took over the pub the reputation of this place has gone down hill. And it's all my fault." A frown tipped Alan's lips downwards before he shook his head. "Anyways, how long have you been mixing drinks?"

_Ah, so he inherited the pub from his brother._ "I learned how to mix drinks a few days ago, but I've already memorized over two hundred recipes."

Alan whistled. "Impressive."

Dante looked at Alan quizzically. All the other managers had looked at him suspiciously and hadn't believed him, but Alan...trusted him. Perhaps, the young man was _too_ trusting.

"Are you like one of those people who after they read something they never forget it? Like you have a photographic memory or something?" Alan asked and leaned over his desk intently.

Dante nodded. "Indeed."

Alan's gaze lowered back down to the list. "Have you ever experienced conflict with a coworker? If so, how did you handle it?"

"Yes...I...took care of it in a gentlemanly fashion." Dante replied evasively. This particular interview question always got him into trouble.

Alan gave Dante a sharp look. "I know you were in the military and maybe overseas you were able to settle disputes differently...physically. But...you're not in a war zone right now, Dante. This is just a peaceful Irish pub. Or at least that's what I want it to be, so all disputes must be settled _nonviolently_. Understand?"

"Nonviolently?" Dante echoed. This would indeed be a challenge for Dante but he needed to get a job. Finally, he nodded once. "As you wish."

Alan let out a breath of relief and gave Dante a somewhat apologetic look. "Phew, I know you're tough, but it's always better to settle disagreements with _words_ first. Try and outsmart your opponent. This should always be your default. If you can settle a dispute without having to come to blows _that_ is true strength."

_True strength huh?_ Dante arched an eyebrow at the pub owner.

"But if you have absolutely no choice - force can be used. If it's the right kind of situation, you know." Alan gave Dante an expectant look.

Dante's brow furrowed though because he had no idea what kind of situation Alan would think it was appropriate to use force. "During what kind of situation is it okay to use force, Alan?"

"Oh...like saving a girl in distress. For example, if a customer touches Joan inappropriately I'd give you permission to remove the man from the premises." Alan made sure to watch Dante's response to what he had said closely.

Dante's hands clenched unconsciously into fists at the thought of anyone touching that feisty, green-eyed girl in a way she did not wish. "A customer would _dare_ to do such a thing?"

Alan snorted at Dante's seriousness. "Hey, don't look so worried. It's not a common occurrence. But yes, unfortunately there are some guys out there who might try something. That's why I didn't mind agreeing to Joan's request not to wear a skirt."

Dante blinked. "Joan refused to wear woman's clothing?" _That's so similar to my Jeanne._

Alan nodded. "She's a feminist, apparently. But she's smart, and hardworking. I know she'll do great."

"Feminist." Dante echoed thoughtfully.

Alan gave Dante a knowing look. "What do you think you can bring to this pub?"

"The man who will become the greatest bartender in New York City." Dante stated with a serious glint in his eyes. "And later the entire world."

Alan grinned broadly in response to Dante's confident declaration. "It's good for a man to have a dream. It gives him direction. What are your strengths and weaknesses?"

"I'm extremely intelligent, hardworking, handsome, physically fit, skilled." Again, Dante decided to humbly cut back on the list of his good points. "I have no weaknesses."

Alan gave Dante an admiring look. He wanted to be more like Dante - tough, powerful, confidant. Alan was sure that Dante was popular with the ladies! Alan had never even had a girlfriend before. Though he'd had his fair share of unrequited loves. He felt slightly jealous of the man in front of him. "Everyone has a weakness." Alan mumbled to himself as he unconsciously put his hand over his heart. "I wish I was more like you though and had your confidence. I have a lot of weaknesses. But that's why it would be great having someone as capable as you by my side, Dante. I would be honored if you would work here...with me."

Dante gave Alan an astonished look. "Really? I'm hired?"

Alan nodded with a big grin on his face. "Yep. Let's go have some drinks to celebrate. You can show me your skills."

"Alright, Boss." Dante agreed readily. It should have bothered Dante to call a lowly human 'boss' but for some reason it did not.

The two men left the office together, and as they opened the door it ended up hitting Joan right in the nose. Apparently, she'd been listening right outside the door. "Ow!" Joan put a hand to her now reddening nose. Teary-eyed, she glared at Dante accusingly as if the accident had been his fault.

Dante gave the female an amused look. "Didn't you know that eavesdropping is considered to be rather rude?"

Joan's cheeks became tinged with pink. Dante couldn't help but note that it made her appear more feminine.

Alan laughed amiably. "Joan's probably curious about whether or not I decided to hire you. Well, the answer is 'yes', Joan. I decided to hire Dante."

Joan's expression turned horrified. "You did! No way, how could you hire that - that man? Argh!" She threw her hands up into the air in an exasperated gesture as if she couldn't believe what was happening.

Alan gave Joan a curious look. "What's wrong, Joan?" He sounded more amused than worried though.

"Nothing. Hmph!" Joan huffed, crossing her arms beneath her chest.

The two men made their way past Joan and continued over to the bar. Alan showed Dante how a section of the bar lifted up so that Dante could get behind it. "The counter-top door is right here. Go for it, Dante." Alan said as he held up the door. "Make us all some..." He trailed off as he thought about it for a moment. "Do you know how to make a Scarlet O'Hara Cocktail?"

Dante nodded. "Yes."

"Joan, Jenny, come take a seat at the bar and join us." Alan called the two waitresses over.

Franky was still standing behind the bar, and he'd closed his laptop. He was curious to see how this other bartender mixed drinks.

Dante made his way behind the bar and reviewed the drink recipe in his mind. _Two ounces Southern Comfort, a dash of lime juice, cranberry juice, and a lime wedge for a garnish._

Dante turned around to look at the series of glass shelves that lined the wall behind the bar. The lower shelves were filled with different types of glasses, and the upper shelves held various bottles of liquor that came in all shapes, sizes and colors. He began to search for the liquor called 'Southern Comfort', but since he'd never seen the bottle before he didn't know what he was looking for and a few minutes ticked by.

"Pfft." Franky snorted as he reached out and tapped the bottle. "It's right here, dumbass."

Dante looked at the bottle of pinkish-red liquor and noted the name 'Southern Comfort' on its label. The label had a tiny drawing of a ranch house in the middle of a Mississippi plantation. "Ah, thank you," Dante took the bottle down. _Now I have to pour the Southern Comfort into a 'highball glass'. What exactly is a 'highball glass' though?_ Dante looked over at all of the different kinds of drink glasses next with a small, thoughtful frown on his handsome face. _Centuries ago we had small glasses and big glasses...now the humans have a name for everything apparently._

"Now what are you looking for?" Franky grumbled, sounding impatient.

"Er...the highball glasses?" Dante questioned, not liking the way this Franky character was suddenly talking down to him. _Do not kill him. Do not kill him._ The demon chanted in his mind and he kept his emotions in check. He'd already let several of Franky's tactless comments slide thus far and Dante wondered how much more he could be tested before he simply sliced Franky's head off with a fork.

Franky reached out and touched the tall glasses also known as a Collin's glass. "Right here, buddy, are you blind?"

Dante shook his head and ignored yet another careless insult tossed his way. "No." The demon quickly filled four glasses with ice and poured the SoCo into them. Next, he needed to add some Ocean Spray Cranberry juice. Dante looked at the shelves of liquor behind him and frowned as he searched futilely for the juice.

"Keh, I'm not helping you again." Franky groused. "Idiot."

A muscle beneath Dante's eye ticked in irritation and again the demon found himself reining in his temper.

Joan sucked in a nervous breath when she heard Franky call Dante an idiot. Frankly, she was surprised the bartender was still alive. _Franky's going to get himself killed at this rate. I'd better help Dante before he snaps and decapitates him._ "What are you looking for?" Joan leaned over the bar counter and spoke to Dante.

"Ocean Spray Cranberry juice." The demon drawled.

"Ah, shouldn't that be in the cooler?" Joan said as she tapped her index finger on the cooler.

Dante opened the cooler and was able to find the juice easily because of Joan. "Thank you." The demon said and met Joan's pretty green eyes.

Joan blushed and looked away. "No problem." _Crisis averted. For now._

After Dante added the cranberry juice to the glasses he added a dash of lime juice, and lastly garnished the drinks with a lime wedge. He managed to finish the drinks with no further problems, and set them down in front of everyone.

"Pfft." Franky started laughing at Dante. "What are you, _retarded_? Or I guess that's politically incorrect these days. I believe the term is 'mentally challenged'. You have got to be the _slowest_ bartender I know!"

Dante briefly wondered how mad Alan would get if he just picked Franky up and tossed him through the front window.

Alan was watching Dante with interest though. "I wonder about that. Dante make us four more."

"Yes Sir." Dante readily agreed and quickly prepared four more Scarlet O'Haras. Now that he knew where the ingredients and glasses to use were he made the four drinks in mere seconds before setting them down in front of everyone.

Alan gave Franky a challenging look. "You were saying?"

Franky sputtered in outrage. "What the fuck? Beginners luck. Have him make something else."

"Don't swear." Joan chided Franky automatically.

Alan shook his head. "Dante, I know you told me you've memorized over two hundred drink recipes but...this is your first time actually mixing those drinks, isn't it?"

All eyes turned to Dante, who nodded. "Yes."

Franky gawked, Jenny's jaw dropped, and Joan blinked. Franky pointed a trembling finger at Dante. "You can't be serious about hiring this guy, Boss! He obviously doesn't even know what the hell he's doing. He's a...fraud!"

Alan just smiled at Franky. "Oh, he might not know what he's doing now, but he will. Dante has a photographic memory. Once you show Dante something he won't ever forget it. That's why I want you to go over all the different types of liquor and glasses we have in the bar with Dante. I'm sure that by tomorrow Dante will be mixing drinks as quickly as you, Franky."

"You can't be serious?" Franky gave Alan an incredulous look. "You want me to show this idiot what everything is? He didn't even know what SoCo is! Where's this guy been living? Under a rock? I won't do it!"

Dante couldn't help but feel insulted. He knew what several liquors and spirits were - those had had existed centuries ago such as wine, rum, and the like. The only liquors and beverages Dante didn't know were the ones the humans had recently come up with and that had strange names like 'Red Bull' and 'SoCo'.

"You _will_ do it." Alan shot back, raising his voice, and surprising everyone including himself. "I'm your boss, Franky...don't forget. And I want you to teach my new employee the things I told you to. Dante has been overseas fighting against terrorism, so I want you to cut him some slack. Got it?" Alan finished firmly, though Joan noticed that Alan was clenching his hands together on his lap to hide their shaking. Alan had _never_ stood up against Franky before! Even Joan was impressed.

Franky turned to give Dante a wary look. "You were in the military?"

Dante nodded.

"Oh, like in the army? What were you...a soldier?" Franky sneered.

"An officer." The demon countered. _Actually, a commander of thirty-six demonic legions but...as the humans would say, whatever._

The blood drained from Franky's face, and he suddenly looked guilty and fearful. Franky realized he had no choice but to show Dante the ropes. He would only show Dante things _once_ though and if the man forgot then that was his problem, not Franky's.

***

It was Joan's first day at work at _Dullahan's Irish Pub_. Alan had given her a dark green tank top to wear that had the pub's name: ' _Dullahan's Irish Pub'_ on it in swirly white letters. She had paired this off with a pair of skinny jeans and her _Nine West_ knee boots.

She'd arrived at eight o'clock that morning. Jenny was supposed to train Joan while there were no customers around, and so the waitress had reluctantly shown Joan how to work the register. Jenny then advised Joan that she should memorize the menu, and make up her own abbreviations for certain food items so that she would be able to quickly write down her orders on her notepad.

Joan was a fast learner, and her training hadn't taken very long. Jenny seemed happy with the downtime that she usually used to text people on her smart phone, or to join her boyfriend at the bar so that they could make out. The bartender, Franky, spent most of his free time on his laptop playing around on facebook, and when he was sure no one was watching getting on porn sites while keeping the volume muted.

Joan rolled her eyes at the slightly sleazy couple. Those two may have been okay with being idle, but Joan wasn't. She wasn't lazy. She was there to work. Joan walked around the pub and inspected the tables. She noticed they were pretty dusty, tsked, and began to wipe down all of the tables until they gleamed.

The bell above the front door jingled and Joan turned around to see the customer that had arrived. Time seemed to slow down for Joan as she watched the tall, handsome man in an _Armani_ suit enter the pub. That wavy, black hair. Those achingly familiar, sharp, golden eyes...

Joan had to bite down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying out: 'Dantalion?!' A series of conflicting emotions washed through her: shock, wonder, trepidation, and fear. _Is the demon Dantalion truly standing before me? If so, why does he look so...human? Why is he dressed in a suit and looking like a businessman? Why hasn't he attacked me yet...?_ Several questions bombarded her mind.

What the hell was he doing there? What did he want? Was he there to kill her? She wondered. They _were_ mortal enemies after all.

_Oh crap...crap...crap..._ Joan was inwardly panicking as she watched Dante speaking with Jenny. Jenny was blatantly flirting with Dantalion, though he seemed to be ignoring her advances. _Heh._ That pleased Joan for some reason. Dantalion began to ask Jenny to see the manager about the bartender position that was available.

Joan's eyes narrowed suspiciously at Dantalion. Who was he kidding? He wanted to be interviewed for the position as bartender? Yea, right! He was probably there to kill them all...but she wouldn't allow it!

Joan watched as her too-trusting boss, Alan, returned from the back of the establishment and approached Dantalion. They introduced themselves and began to head for Alan's office. _No!_ _Alan could be in danger._ Dantalion was a murderer. He was _not_ to be trusted. Joan rushed over and stood between Alan and Dantalion. Hands on her hips, she glared at the demon. Her anger made her move forward until she was jabbing her finger into Dantalion's rock hard chest without thinking about what she was really doing. "You!" Joan began. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" She demanded.

Dantalion blinked at her and arched an eyebrow. "I'm here for a job interview, Miss...?"

For some reason the fact that Dantalion didn't recognize her... _hurt_. And the fact that she was hurt surprised her. Although she wasn't really Jeanne d'Arc, she reminded herself. She was the _reincarnation_ of Jeanne d'Arc. Her body was different, her parents were different, and her older sister was different. She merely had the same soul. She was Joan Simone now. _Of course it makes sense that he doesn't recognize me._

Joan gawked at the demon. "A job interview?" She looked at Dantalion dubiously. Did he really expect her to believe that? He was definitely up to something. He was a demon, for God's sake. He couldn't be trusted.

Alan had turned back around and was watching the exchange curiously. "Is there a problem Joan? Do you know him?"

"Do I know him? I...!" Joan struggled to form words. Of course she knew him. He was Dantalion, Great Duke of Hell! The commander of thirty-six legions of demons. He was a cold-blooded murderer. Her mortal enemy. "You can't hire him Alan! He's a-!" Joan bit her lower lip. If she told Alan that Dantalion was a demon he'd think she was completely bonkers.

Dantalion's eyebrow rose even higher. _Ugh._

"Yes?" Alan pressed. "He's a what, Joan?"

Joan huffed and gave Dantalion a conflicted look. _Why is here, darn it?_ "Nothing. Never mind." Joan couldn't stop the budding curiosity from blossoming within her. No matter how she saw it - the demon was acting strangely.

Alan shrugged, still smiling, and continued on his way.

Joan grabbed Dante's shoulder as he passed her by. "I'm keeping my eyes on you. If you hurt him..." She trailed off threateningly.

Dantalion's eyes widened in surprise, and he kept his voice low as he responded. "Why would I hurt him?"

"Because he's a good person." Joan huffed.

Dantalion smiled charmingly at her. The jerk's teeth were practically sparkling. "Don't worry Miss. I will not harm your boss." That said Dantalion strode off after Alan.

Joan discreetly followed after them. Once the office door had closed behind them, she went up and pressed her ear to the door. She stayed there ready to listen in on their conversation. As Joan listened to Dantalion being interviewed by Alan she thought it became rather _obvious_ that Dantalion was no _normal_ individual. Though, Alan seemed to be cutting Dantalion a _lot_ of slack since the demon claimed he'd been in the French Army and had been fighting overseas in Afghanistan.

Oddly enough, Dantalion was answering most of the questions as honestly as he could. Alan seemed to believe the nonsense that was coming out of Dante's mouth, and was eating it up word for word. Joan snorted at Alan telling the Great Duke of Hell, Dantalion, to settle disputes nonviolently. _I'd like to see that one happening! Ha!_

When Alan brought up the possible scenario of a customer touching her inappropriately and she heard Dante's growled out response, Joan felt strangely flattered.

The interview was over minutes later, and it sounded like Alan had actually decided to hire Dantalion. A demon! _No, no, no!_ What could Alan be thinking? Joan held her head in her hands in a panic. The office door opened, caught Joan off guard, and it slammed right into her nose.

"Ow!" Joan put a hand to her reddening nose. Teary-eyed, she glared at Dantalion as if this had been his fault.

Dantalion gave her an amused look. "Didn't you know that eavesdropping is considered to be rather rude?"

Joan couldn't help it, she blushed.

Alan laughed amiably. "Joan's probably just curious about whether or not I decided to hire you. Well, the answer's 'yes', Joan. I decided to hire Dante."

Joan's expression turned horrified. "You didn't? No way. How could you hire that - that man? Argh!" _Ah, so it's Dante now...pfft._ She let out another very unladylike snort that caused Dante's lips to twitch.

Alan gave Joan a curious look. "What's wrong, Joan?"

"Nothing. Hmph." Joan said as she crossed her arms under her chest. She watched as the two men headed for the bar and Alan opened the counter-top door so Dante could get behind it. Then Alan told Dante to make everyone some Scarlet O'Haras. Joan had to admit that she was curious to see if Dantalion would actually be able to make the cocktail.

She watched intently as he struggled to figure out what SoCo and a highball glass were, and that had been pretty funny. Joan wondered when Dante had been unsealed. Recently? Hundreds of years ago? Michael claimed that it was Dantalion who was gating in the lesser demons but...Dantalion didn't seem too knowledgeable about this era yet, so he must have awakened recently.

Was Michael mistaken? Maybe the demon they were looking for wasn't Dante. Maybe another demon was behind all of the lesser demons showing up in New York City. Joan was intrigued about what Dantalion was up to exactly. So far he hadn't made any violent moves. Or maybe that was only because he hadn't recognized her. If Dante knew who she really was he would surely attack and try to kill her. It was for this very reason that Joan decided not to tell Dante her true identity. She also wanted to observe him and discover what his true intentions were before she made a decision about him.

That's why when Franky began to give Dante a hard time about not knowing what Ocean Spray Cranberry juice was, Joan leaned over the counter and helpfully tapped the cooler. "Wouldn't it be in the cooler?"

Dante looked up and gave Joan a grateful look. He opened the cooler and found the cranberry juice he'd been looking for as well as the lime juice, and was able to finish mixing the drinks.

Joan couldn't help but be impressed that Dante had apparently memorized more than two hundred drink recipes, but at the same time he'd never made any of them before. Why did Dante want to be a bartender all of a sudden? Joan mused. It didn't make a lot of sense as the starting point for a demon's nefarious plot.

That's when Alan told Franky to teach Dante all the names of the different liquors and spirits available in the pub and the types of glasses they used. Franky didn't seem too pleased with this development and gave Dantalion a bit of an attitude. _That's a mistake. You're so dead, buddy._ Joan feared for the man's life, but surprisingly Dantalion seemed to be taking it all in stride.

_You wouldn't be such an asshole to Dantalion if you knew he could skewer you on a spear like a kabob while blindfolded and with both hands tied behind his back!_ Joan thought morbidly to herself with a shudder. The things she'd heard that this demon had done centuries ago...were the kinds of things that could keep a person up all night.

For the rest of the workday, Franky taught Dante while Joan continued to clean up the pub. The pub closed at midnight. It was a _long_ workday. By the time Joan was finally leaving, she, Dante, and Alan were the only ones left in the place. Dante was still studying bottles of liquor when Alan had already gone to bed. Alan lived above the pub in a small apartment.

Joan hesitated upon leaving Dante alone with Alan in the building. She was about to leave the pub when she turned back around and stomped over to the bar to glare at Dante. She cleared her throat loudly to get his attention. "Ahem, are you leaving soon?"

Dante turned around and gave Joan a quizzical look. "No, I wish to study more. Is there something I can help you with Miss?"

A muscle ticked below Joan's eye in irritation at Dante calling her 'Miss'. "I have a name, you know. You can call me _Joan_." Joan said impatiently.

Dante nodded with a strange expression on his face. "Alright, Joan. Do you need to be walked home?"

Joan gawked and blinked at Dante in sheer disbelief. He wanted to walk her home? Just...what game was he playing at? A demon Duke walking a human female home? That was just...preposterous!

"It's probably dangerous for a young woman to walk around here at night." Dante added looking concerned. He wiped his hands on a towel. "I shall accompany you to your destination."

He looked...sincere. It was bizarre. Dante was lifting the counter-top door when Joan stopped him and put her hands up before her. "Ah, no, don't worry about it. I have a car."

Dante stopped and it was his turn to look impressed. "Ah, I see. Then...goodnight. I shall see you on the morrow, Joan."

The way he said her name sent tingles running up and down her spine. Joan turned around to go and waved. "Yea, yea, bye." Joan left the Irish pub and let out a heavy sigh. She didn't know if she was making a _huge_ mistake leaving Dante alone with Alan or not. If Alan wound up dead the next day it would be all her fault. Joan tugged at her hair at the thought.

Joan reached her Volvo and got inside. She started the engine and pulled out of her parking spot. She then made her way down the street, heading towards her apartment building. It didn't take her long to reach her building and park her car in the underground parking lot. She rode the elevator up to her floor and was soon opening her apartment door to be instantly greeted by Michael.

As soon as the guardian angel spotted Joan walking through the doorway, he pounced, tackled Joan to the floor, and began to lick her face enthusiastically. It was moments like this that Joan could forget that Michael was actually a powerful, guardian angel in disguise. That is until he opened his maw and spoke. "Joan! Welcome home!"

"Ah, Michael! What are you doing? Get off...yuck!" Joan struggled to push the affectionate golden retriever off of her. Sometimes Michael really did act like a mutt. She succeeded in pushing Michael off of her, stood up, and dusted her clothes off.

"How was your first day at work?" Michael asked with his tail wagging back and forth behind him vigorously.

"Ah." As soon as Michael mentioned 'work' Joan couldn't help but think about Dante and his sudden and unexpected appearance. Michael suspected Dantalion was the demon responsible for gating in lesser demons. She should really tell Michael about Dante's appearance, but she decided not to. "It was alright. The bar's a little slow." She felt bad about keeping things from Michael but...until she knew what Dante's true intentions were she didn't want Michael to overreact.

Michael's tail stopped wagging. He could tell Joan was keeping something from him. He'd been her guardian angel since she was born in this era. If fact, five hundred and eighty-four years ago, he'd been Jeanne d'Arc's guardian angel then too. He knew Joan like the back of his hand. She was an open book. He just hoped it wasn't anything _bad_. "Oh, well, I'm sure things will pick up now that they have a cute waitress like you." Michael said confidently.

Joan couldn't help but smile at the compliment. She crouched down, wrapped her arms around Michael's neck, and scratched him behind his ear. "Thanks." _A cute waitress, huh? I'm just a tomboy._ For some reason an image of Jenny leaning over and showing off her cleavage to Dante popped into Joan's mind. _Slut._

Joan made her way to her bedroom and picked up the silver cross that was lying on her bed. She should really stop being so stubborn and have the cross with her. Especially, if Dante decided to gate in a lesser demon at work or something. Then she'd be able to catch him in the act. Her cross wasn't glowing, which meant she didn't need to go hunting for lesser demons that night. Thank God.

Joan got ready for bed and minutes later she was crawling into her bed utterly exhausted. She fell into a restless sleep, and her dreams were filled with ancient battles fought by knights on horseback against handsome demons with shinning, golden eyes.

***

The following morning, Joan woke up with a pair of golden eyes burned into her mind. She blushed. Michael would be incredibly angry with her if he knew she was dreaming about Dantalion. He'd probably threaten her with burning her at the stake. She shuddered at the thought.

Joan got ready for work. She showered, washed her face, brushed her teeth, dressed in the same dark green tank top she'd worn yesterday, and picked out a pair of black jeans and knee boots. She had breakfast, fed Michael his kibble, and took her cross with her this time. She made sure to put the cross on a long chain so that she could hide it beneath her tank top.

Joan got into her Volvo and drove to _Dullahan's Irish Pub_. She managed to park out front since there weren't very many cars parked in the area. Joan got out of the car and made her way to the front door. It was eight o'clock. She opened the door and the bell above the door jingled as she made her way inside. All the lights were turned on and the place looked ready for business. Joan figured that she and Alan would probably be the only ones there that early, but then her attention turned towards the bar.

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head at the sight of Dantalion standing behind the bar, which was completely covered in an assortment of over one hundred drinks that Dante had obviously been practicing how to make: colorful, layered tropical cocktails, classic mixed drinks, martinis, shooters, hot drinks, wine cocktails, stick drinks, and hot cocktails. There were drinks in tall glasses, drinks in short glasses, wine in wine glasses, and drinks in martini glasses. It was an incredible sight. Her green eyes sparkled with admiration.

Dante was currently preparing a Mojito and adding mint leaves to it. He looked so... _human_ in that moment. He had this look of extreme concentration on his face and really looked like he was trying his best. It was cute.

Joan found herself smiling dopily at the handsome demon who was still dressed in his Armani suit. Joan approached Dante with interest. "Good morning, Dante." Joan greeted him casually and admired the beautiful drinks that he'd managed to create. Each drink was like a tiny work of art. Art...if Joan recalled correctly Dante was a demon known for his knowledge in the arts and sciences.

Dante jerked in surprise and looked up. His eyes widened slightly as he caught sight of Joan. "Joan." He seemed to be having some kind of an internal struggle. "Good morning."

_How hard is it to say good morning? Geesh._ Joan smirked and took a seat at the bar, slipping onto one of the barstools. She propped her chin on her right hand and looked around at all of the drinks Dante had made. "Were you really up all night making all these cocktails?"

Dante swallowed thickly and nodded. "Indeed."

Joan looked up and smiled at him boldly, looking him right in the eyes. "Impressive. May I try one?"

"O-Of course." Dante said with a wave of his hand at the drinks. "Choose whichever you wish."

Joan looked interestedly at all of the cocktails and spotted a coffee drink. She decided on it and took a sip. "Mmm." The coffee was smooth and sweet with a touch of caramel flavor. As Joan stared into her coffee cup and at the dark liquid she couldn't help but think that the coffee and Dante were similar. _It's smooth, dark, and maybe a little bitter, but there's a hidden sweetness to it._ Joan shook her head of such bizarre thoughts. Dante was an evil demon. He had no hidden sweetness. She'd learned that the hard way centuries ago.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Came an angry, low, baritone voice.

"Don't swear." Joan automatically chided.

Dante and Joan turned their attention to see Franky entering the pub and stalking towards them. Dante raised an eyebrow at the fuming human male. "Hello Franky, good morning. What seems to be the problem?"

"What's the problem? I'll tell you what the problem is! What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" He waved his hand at the assortment of drinks. "What _is_ this?" Franky demanded hotly and the man had even begun to unconsciously crack his knuckles.

"I was practicing mixing drinks, of course." Dante replied dryly. _What a simpleton._

"Pfft." Franky let out a disgusted snort. "You idiot, you can't do that. You've just wasted a whole ton of liquor and cost our boss a shit load of money. He is going to be so pissed when he sees this." Franky suddenly smiled at that thought. "You're _so_ going to get fired, idiot. ALAN! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE. WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY!" Franky bellowed, spit flying from his mouth.

Joan flinched at Franky's violent behavior. The man certainly had a temper, and he looked pretty menacing with all those demonic tattoos. She was glad she had Jeanne d'Arc's cross with her that day, which would enable her to summon her sword in case she needed it.

"C-Coming!" Alan called out. He quickly emerged from the back and into the main pub area. Alan approached the bar quizzically and took in the sight of all of the colorful assorted drinks and cocktails. Alan's blue eyes glittered and he grinned. "Ooo pretty. Did you make all those cocktails yourself, Dante? It looks like you've been practicing hard all night long, eh?"

Dante nodded, and bowed slightly. "Yes Sir. I was practicing but I-"

Franky cut him off. "Alan! This is no time to be praising him! He _wasted_ all the booze! He just cost you a ton of money! You should fire him at once!" The bartender demanded with a haughty expression on his face.

"May I try one?" Alan asked Dante while ignoring Franky.

Dante's lip twitched. "Of course, Boss."

Alan selected an Irish coffee, wrapped his chilled fingers around the mug, took a sip, and hummed in appreciation. "Mmm. That's good. I've had hundreds of Irish coffees in my lifetime already but I have to say Dante...this is the best one I've ever tasted."

As Franky listened to the exchange he was growing angrier and angrier. His face had begun to turn red and now Joan thought he resembled a tomato. Franky reached out, grabbed Alan's shoulder, and spun him around to face him. "Are you even listening to me, Alan? I said: you should fire that guy!" Franky squeezed Alan's shoulder until Alan flinched in pain.

It almost looked like Franky was _threatening_ Alan to fire Dante! Joan realized. _That jerk!_ "Hey!" Joan started to object as she started forward, but Dante beat her too it.

Dante reached out, grabbed Franky's wrist, and removed the man's hand from Alan's shoulder without saying a single word. Dante just stared at Franky coldly while Franky glared back in challenge.

Alan let out a nervous laugh, and put up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Guys, there's no need to fight. Franky, I'm not mad at Dante for practicing. He was just doing his job so I'm not going to fire him. Sorry." Alan said firmly, but his hands were slightly shaking.

Franky glared at Alan as if he couldn't believe the young pub owner was actually daring to stand up to him.

Joan knew that Alan and Dantalion were in a tough spot and that she had to come up with something to resolve this situation, fast. An idea came to her. "Hey Alan, I have an idea. Why don't we have a special today where customers can have one free drink in order to promote our new bartender? Customers can just choose it at the bar from this gorgeous selection of already made drinks. I'll type up some fliers, print them out, and hand them out outside the pub. What do you think?"

Alan's expression brightened and he beamed at Joan. "I think that's a great idea, Joan."

"Tch...what a _stupid_ idea." Franky groused as he ran his hand over his buzz cut. "No one will ever come here. No one ever does."

Joan put her hands on her hips and glared at Franky. "God, you're so negative. Today will be different, Franky. You'll see. Alan, can I please use your computer?"

"Sure." Alan instantly agreed.

Since that was settled, Joan went to Alan's office to use his laptop and created a flier for the special event using Microsoft word and some text art. The flier ended up reading as follows:

Dullahan's Irish Pub Presents:

Free Drink Special Event

For today only!

In celebration of Dullahan's new bartender

" _Dante"_

Each customer is allowed to go

to the bar and select one drink of their choice!

Enjoy!

Joan added green and yellow text art, and little green and yellow shamrocks around the border of the page. She scaled the image down so that she could print two fliers on the same page. This way the fliers would be easier to hand out to people because they were smaller. Joan printed out twenty copies, which gave her forty fliers, and used a pair of scissors to cut the pages in half. After gathering the fliers together into a neat pile she exited the office and headed for the front of the pub. Alan was still at the bar speaking to Dante. At this point Jenny had arrived and she was speaking to Franky in low, conspiratorial tones.

"Hey Alan, I finished the fliers. I'll go outside and start handing them out to people." Joan announced.

"Can't believe she's actually going outside. It's fucking freezing out there." Franky muttered to Jenny.

Alan nodded and smiled. "You're a real trooper, Joan. Don't forget your jacket. It's pretty cold out there! Come back inside as soon as you feel like you're getting too cold."

"Thanks, Boss." Joan said as she went to fetch her jacket. She put her leather jacket on and went outside of the pub. A rush of cold air hit her face. It was freezing outside! It was already the second week of November after all so it wasn't surprising. Joan reached into her jean pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She quickly dialed Kim's number. After a few rings Kim picked up.

" _Hey Joan what's up?_ "

"Hey Kim, are you busy?"

" _I'm at a photo shoot, why?_ "

"I got a new job at this Irish pub. You know _Dullahan's,_ right? It's the place with the creepy sign with the headless horsewoman on it. Anyways, today we're giving away free drinks. Think you can bring some friends by later?" Joan crossed her fingers.

" _Free drinks? What kind of free drinks?_ "

"Oh, just about everything: tropical cocktails, martinis, shooters..." Joan trailed off.

" _Count us in! I'll tell everyone at the shoot to go. We should be there in about an hour or so._ "

"Hey, thanks Kim. You're a real lifesaver."

" _No prob. C-ya._ " Kim ended the call.

Joan looked around the slightly deserted street. It was too cold for anyone to be walking around but there were a few passersby. Joan rubbed her hands together to try and warm them and cursed herself for forgetting to bring her gloves again.

A man was walking by and Joan quickly handed him a flier. "Free drink today of your choice. Today only. We have a new bartender so..." Joan trailed off as the man kept walking, but then he stopped as he looked down and read the flier.

The businessman turned back around and approached Joan with a curious look on his face. "Is this for real? I can get a free drink? No charge?"

"Of course, it's a special promotion for our new bartender." Joan explained with an easy smile.

"Sweet." The man said. "Count me in. Can I tell my friends?"

Joan nodded, expression eager. "That would be great. Thanks!"

The man went inside. Joan grinned to herself. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all. Within the hour Joan managed to get twenty people into the bar. After that a van was pulling up in front of _Dullahan's_. Joan watched as a group of drop-dead gorgeous young women and Kim stepped out of the van before approaching Joan.

"Hey Joan!" Kim waved over at her friend and approached her.

"Hey, girl." Joan greeted.

"These are my friends." Kim waved a hand at the people behind her. "They were also doing the holiday shoot with me: Becky, Cindy, Karen, Stephanie, Laura, and Annie. Our Manager Brad Ackerman, our photographer for the shoot, Perrier, and stylist Leila!" Kim quickly introduced the group of ten people total (including Kim). "Perrier and Leila are here temporarily from California so they're not used to the cold weather."

"It's so cold!" Leila put in as she rubbed her arms through her jacket.

"Well, you're in luck. Dante made some hot drinks too." Joan informed the punky stylist. The young woman had a black bob of hair that had chunky red highlights. She was wearing a black leather jacket that hid what she was wearing but Joan was able to see her red and black striped stockings and black knee boots.

"I'm starved. Do they have food in this place or just drinks?" One of the models asked as she rubbed her hands together in expectation.

"We have food." Joan quickly said. _Yes! Finally a real customer!_

"Do they have burgers?" Another piped in.

"Yes." Joan nodded eagerly.

"Great. Let's go, girls." The model led the way into the pub. Kim chuckled as she watched her friends go inside. "Are you coming inside, Joan? I think you've probably done enough promotion and your nose is all red. You look like Rudolf!"

Joan rubbed her nose self-consciously. "Gee, thanks. Yea, I'll come in."

As Kim and Joan entered the pub, the sight that met them was surprising. Customers were seated at the tables happily enjoying their complimentary drinks, and several patrons had ordered snacks to go along with their drinks: nachos, quesadillas, potato skins, baskets of French fries, and baskets of onion rings.

_People are actually ordering things! Yes!_ Joan inwardly cheered and resisted the urge to fist pump.

Kim's party was at the bar and they were all busy selecting their drinks from the impressive assortment. They seemed to be making a lot of noise and Joan wondered what all the fuss was about until she realized that all of the models had their focus upon Dante.

Jenny was watching the commotion with a frown on her face. Her sharp gaze was pinned upon Franky, her boyfriend, who was currently checking out all of the beautiful models with visible drool sliding down his chin. Jenny was gritting her teeth and gripping a fork as if she planned on stabbing Franky's jugular with it.

Meanwhile, the models were asking the demon about the drinks he'd made as well as completely irrelevant things. "Eeee, so your name is Dante? How long have you been working here?" "How old are you?" "Are you single?" "Can I have your phone number?" "Would you be interested in a modeling gig?" Even their manager had begun to bombard Dante with questions.

A muscle beneath Joan's eye ticked. _Those girls...they have no idea just who they are talking to. Don't be fooled by his charm and good looks, ladies. He's a bloodthirsty demon who probably wants to eat your soul!_ At least Dante was ignoring their advances. Not that it had anything to do with her. And not like she really cared either.

Kim suddenly latched onto Joan's arm with a wide-eyed look on her face. "J-Joan! Who is _that_? You didn't tell me you had a hottie working here."

"Er...that's Dante Cromwell. He's our new bartender." Joan informed her friend dully and tried to sound disinterested. _Oh yea, and he's a Great Duke of Hell._ She added in her mind. _I wish I could tell Kim the truth but she'd think I was crazy._ "Kim...I wouldn't go after Dante if I were you." She said offhandedly instead.

Kim gave Joan a piercing look. "Possessive are we? Don't worry I understand. You want dibs, right?"

"It's not like that." Joan was quick to object.

But Kim wasn't really listening to her. "Well, you did see him first, and besides I have Gilebert now." She let out a wistful sigh and her honey-colored eyes seemed to shine.

"Gilebert?" Joan raised an eyebrow, even as a chill went down her spine. There was something about that handsome barista that Joan just didn't like. She couldn't put her finger on it but there was something off about him. "You two are going out now?"

Kim nodded excitedly. "Yes. I asked him out that morning, and he said 'yes'. We've been dating ever since. Gilebert is such a gentleman. He takes me out to expensive dinners, the opera, the movies, and even buys me pretty clothes. I've never met a guy who pampers me like he does. He's treating me like a princess, Joan. I can't believe how lucky I am."

Joan wanted to be happy for her friend; she really did, but for something reason this was sounding a little...fishy. "He buys you things? Well, obviously he expects _something_ in return, right?"

Kim gave Joan an exasperated look. "Oh Joan, you're such a prude, not to mention a stick in the mud. It's not like I wouldn't have ended up sleeping with him anyways. So what's the big deal? He's really _hot_. The fact that he likes to pamper me is just an added bonus."

Joan bit her lip to stop herself from making any more negative comments. She didn't want to keep raining on Kim's parade. She didn't know why Gilebert gave her the creeps. He seemed almost...too perfect. It was suspicious. But as long as Kim was happy, Joan was happy. She would support her friend in her new relationship.

"Excuse me, waitress, can I place an order?" A customer called Joan over to his table.

Kim smiled at Joan. "I'll leave you to your work. I'll go join the others _and_ get a closer look at Dante." A cat's paw smile formed on Kim's face. She was such a man-eater.

Joan rolled her eyes at her flirtatious friend. "You go do that, Kimmy." Joan went to the table and took the order of a guy sitting there - a cheeseburger, fries and a Long Island Iced Tea. She made her way to the kitchen and handed Ivan the order. Ivan was a big-boned, burly German guy, who weighed at least two hundred pounds. He had thinning blonde hair, blue eyes and a very pale almost red complexion.

"Hey Ivan, here's another order." Joan said as she handed him the piece of paper she'd ripped out of her notepad.

Ivan grinned at Joan as he took the page and his blue eyes sparkled with interest. "Thanks, doll, it's gotten busy all of a sudden. If this keeps up I may even need help back here!"

Joan smiled at Ivan. "I sure hope so. Keep up the good work."

After Kim's party finished selecting their free drinks they spread out between two tables, and Joan made her way over to take their food orders. Joan took their orders, returned to the kitchen, and handed Ivan another page from her notebook. Ivan thanked Joan again, and began to cook hurriedly. He had ten meals to create all on his own after all.

Joan looked around the kitchen and her nose scrunched up at the sight. It didn't look very clean. _Probably it's dirty because of disuse?_ But was that really an excuse to let it get this bad? Joan opened her mouth to say something but then shut it. It wasn't really her place to say anything about this. She was just a waitress after all. Ivan might consider her overstepping her bounds.

Joan left the kitchen and returned to the main pub area where she continued to take orders, get people silverware, and grab their drinks at the bar from Dante.

The models were watching Dante prepare their new drinks with dreamy expressions on their faces and hearts in their eyes. Dante seemed to notice and began to show off by spinning the shaker around his hands and tossing it up into the air before catching it with his other hand behind his back. He grabbed a bottle that had a pouring nozzle attached to it and began to perform a stunt with the shaker tin and bottle next. He juggled the tin and bottle, passing them behind his back, and catching the bottle inside of the empty shaker tin. A small knowing smirk formed on his face.

Joan gawked. When had he learned to do that?

Franky meanwhile was glaring heatedly at Dante. Joan could tell that he was getting pretty worked up by all the attention Dante was getting from the models and not him. Was he jealous? Joan wondered and snorted. _Yea, that's so mature._

Dante had finished the drink he was mixing and set it down on the counter for Joan to take. "Here Joan-" He was saying when Franky 'accidentally' knocked into Dante causing him to knock the drink over and onto himself. The amber-colored alcoholic beverage spilled all over his expensive Armani suit.

"Whoops. Sorry about that, _buddy_." Franky apologized in a sarcastic tone while patting Dante's arm.

Eyes wide, Joan looked at Dante, curious to see what his reaction would be. Would he attack Franky? Franky was _so_ dead.

Dante set down the glass and let out a frustrated sigh as if he'd expected this to happen. "Don't worry about it, buddy." The demon began to take his jacket off, which he set aside. This left Dante in a white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt and black pants.

The Long Island Ice Tea had splashed all over the front of Dante's shirt and onto the crotch of his pants. The white material of his shirt was clinging to Dante's body in such a way that Joan was able to see Dante's muscular physique underneath. She was also able to see the slight bulge of his crotch as the wet fabric of his pants pressed against his boxers.

Joan swallowed. Dante was probably in really good shape. Joan's eyes widened even more when Dante took his tie off and began to unbutton his shirt in front of her. With eyes about to fall out of her head, she watched Dante swiftly undoing the buttons and revealing more and more of his pale, muscled chest. Dante took his shirt off, picked up a towel, and began to dry his chest off.

That's when Joan realized that it had gotten strangely quiet inside of the pub, and turned around to see that she wasn't the only one who'd noticed Dante taking his shirt off. Joan returned her gaze upon this demon man who had the body of a Greek God.

His upper body looked like it had been chiseled from a slab of hard, white marble. Joan's eyes traveled over his strong pecs, down his muscled torso and six-pack abs. She was even able to see the lines of muscle that formed a 'V' which directed her gaze to fall upon Dante's crotch before she realized what she was doing and pulled her gaze away. His muscles flexed as he dried himself off and Joan's mouth went dry. There was so much pent-up power in his body. A whispering promise of death and destruction that Joan had witnessed firsthand centuries ago.

"Sorry Joan, I'll make another Long Island Ice Tea right away." Dante apologized as he began to prepare the drink while shirtless.

"Uh..." Joan stuttered.

The models who'd been watching could no longer contain themselves. "Eeeee! Dante you're _so_ hot!" "Oh my God...I love this place!" "I'm going to go over there and give him a tip!" "Me too!" "Me three!"

The models all stood up, swarmed the bar, and began to offer Dante tips. "Here Dante." "Here." "Here, take this." One bold model slipped a hundred dollar bill into the waistband of Dante's pants. Dante blinked at that, didn't know how he should properly react, and so froze. Another model was emboldened by Dante's lack of negative response and moved in to put her own bill down Dante's pants next.

But Joan reached out her hand and grabbed the model's wrist on reflex in order to stop her. "Just what do you think you're doing?" Joan started in a stern tone.

The model glared back at Joan, her silver eyes flashing. "I'm giving him a tip. What's it to you? Are you his girlfriend?"

Joan's heart flip-flopped at the jab. "No, I'm not but...this isn't a strip club. He's not Magic Mike, you know? You could really get us in trouble with this kind of trashy behavior. Dante, don't let any of the other girls put money down your pants. It's inappropriate and such activity is illegal." Joan explained to the demon. She wasn't exactly sure if it _was_ illegal for a girl to stick money down a guy's pants, but it should have been!

Dante nodded and let out a breath of relief. "Understood, Joan. I'm sorry, ladies, but you heard what Joan said. I don't want to cause trouble for my Boss."

"Awww." The girls all groaned in disappointment and shot hateful glares Joan's way. Joan flinched but held her ground.

At that moment, Alan made his way over to the bar with hurried steps. The pub owner looked at the situation before him with a worried expression on his face. "Dante, what's going on?"

Dante was about to respond but Joan beat him to it. "Franky spilled a Long Island Iced Tea on Dante on purpose, and he had no choice but to take his shirt off. Unfortunately, all the girls went a little crazy and wanted to tip Dante. We need to find Dante a shirt a-sap, Boss." Joan explained in a rush.

Alan nodded while Dante shot Joan a thankful look. Alan stroked his chin in thought, as he looked Dante over. "He's a lot bigger than me. I don't think any of my shirts would fit him...oh! My Dad was about Dante's size! I'll be right back!" Alan ran off and made his way upstairs to fetch Dante some dry clothes to wear.

"Thank you, Joan." Dante said with a sincere look in his molten gold eyes.

Joan waved her hand through the air. "Don't worry about it."

A few minutes later, Alan returned with a clean shirt, black vest, and bowtie for Dante to put on. Dante put on the white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt, the black leather vest, and black bowtie to complete the look.

Alan grinned while looking quite pleased with himself. "Now you _really_ look like a bartender. I'm surprised I didn't think of this before."

"Oh?" Dante raised an eyebrow at Alan. "Is this what bartenders usually wear? Not suits?"

Alan chuckled at that and shook his head. "When my Dad was bartending he would always wear that. Most bartenders wear that outfit. It suits you."

Dante smiled slightly. "Thanks, Boss."

"Don't you think so, Joan?" Alan asked slyly.

Joan blushed and realized that she'd been staring at Dante the entire time. "Er, yes, he looks good. I mean the _clothes_ look good. Yea."

Dante's expression shifted to amusement as he watched Joan blush. During all this, Franky was grinding his teeth together in anger.

But cutting through everything that was happening was a woman's sudden scream.

Dante put one hand on the bar counter before using it to support his weight so he could swing his legs over the bar. Dante landed on the floor with a thud before running over to the woman's side. "What's wrong, Miss?"

The woman pointed at her cheeseburger. "There's a cockroach!"

Dante looked at her burger, picked off the bug, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it with a crunch of his boot.

Dante could feel the woman's fear replenishing his demonic power. "Are you alright now, Miss?"

The pretty brunette looked up at Dante, smiled tremulously, and her fear seemed to evaporate. "Uh...yes, thank you." Her voice sounded breathy.

Dante waved his hand at the burger. "Then you can continue your meal in peace."

The woman's eyes widened as she looked down at her burger with a queasy look on her face. "Uh..."

"What he meant to say is we'll get you a _new_ burger or whatever you want right away." Joan amended as she quickly picked up the plate.

"Ah, yes, a new burger, please." The woman agreed.

"Come on, Dante. Follow me." Joan said as she walked off towards the kitchen with the burger.

Dante followed at her side. "So...a human, er, person won't consume a meal that has had a bug on it?"

Joan nodded. "Yes, that's right. Humans can be picky like that. No bugs. And if there is one you must always exchange the food or drink, or offer the customers a full refund."

"I see. Bugs are certainly a nuisance for a restaurant." Dante mused aloud.

Joan and Dante entered the kitchen. "Ivan, there was a cockroach on this burger. You'll have to redo it." Joan said sternly with her hands on her hips.

"Tch...prissy bitches." Ivan complained as he took the plate and dumped the burger into a nearby trashcan.

Dante looked down at the burger in the trashcan in surprise, and couldn't help but think about the homeless people he'd met at Central Park. When he'd first encountered them they hadn't even had food to eat. He was sure a mere cockroach would not have bothered them. At that moment, Dante caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He picked up a kitchen knife and brought it down upon a cockroach slicing it neatly in two.

Ivan and Joan both gasped in surprise.

Dante looked around the kitchen, his eyes searching the shadows for more vermin to exterminate. "This place is...infested. Not only are there cockroaches here but there are also mice. Not to worry. I shall exterminate all of the vermin in no time at all." _Extermination is what I do best._

Joan could suddenly sense demonic energy coming from Dante as her cross pulsed. _What the hell?_ The Demon Detector had been dormant before, but now it was sensing demonic power from Dante.

"Ah, Ivan, why don't we give Dante a little space while he takes care of our infestation problem?" Joan suggested sagely as she grabbed Ivan by his shoulders and steered him out of the kitchen. "Just call us when you're done, Dante." She called over her shoulder.

"Understood." Dante replied, a fierce gleam in his golden eyes as Joan shut the door after them.

Ivan struggled out of Joan's hold and gave the waitress a look of sheer disbelief. "Are you crazy? There's no way he can kill all the crap living in there."

_Thud, thud, thud._ A series of tiny thuds could be heard coming from within the kitchen and Joan smiled knowingly. "Oh, I think you'd be surprised by what he can do."

Five minutes later, Dante's voice was calling out to them. "Alright Joan, I'm done."

Joan and Ivan reentered the kitchen and Dante was holding up a huge, eighty-gallon trash bag filled with dead bugs and mice.

"There were rats too. But I took care of them." Dante announced with a note of pride in his voice. Joan wondered if Dante wanted a reward or something. She had to resist giving him a pat on the head. She wondered if Lucifer rewarded Dante after he won battles for him centuries ago.

Ivan looked queasy at the sight of the enormous bag and placed a hand over his mouth as he gagged.

"I'm good at killing-" Dante continued conversationally.

Joan laughed loudly in order to interrupt him. "Yes, you are good at killing _bugs_." She stressed the word 'bugs' before grabbing Dante and dragging him out of the kitchen.

Dante gave Joan a quizzical look. "Did I do something wrong?"

Joan shook her head. "No...just...people don't normally go around talking about killing things, Dante. I know you were in the military but it's not... _normal_. Understand?"

Dante nodded. "I understand, Joan. Thank you for all your advice. You've been a great help since I got here."

"No prob." Joan waved a hand dismissively through the air but she was oddly touched by his words.

"I don't think I could do this without you." Dante offered her a small smile.

Joan blinked back at Dante in shock and blushed. "Uh...yea." _If Dante knew who I really was he wouldn't be acting so nice to me. I have to keep that in mind. I can't become friends with someone I may end up having to fight. I have to try and keep him at a distance. Come on, Joan, you can do this._ But even though she was trying to convince herself to start distancing herself from Dante she couldn't help but admire his almost boyish smile.

_To be continued..._ in Drink 5: Sweet Revenge

Dante: "Good evening inferior human, so you wish to know how to make a Scarlet O'Hara do you? Pour 2 ounces of Southern Comfort and a dash of lime juice into a Collins glass filled with ice. Fill with cranberry juice. Garnish with a lime wedge. Did you know that the Scarlet O'Hara is named for the southern belle from the human movie 'Gone With the Wind'? She had lovely green eyes just like my Jeanne..."

### Chapter 5: Sweet Revenge

Dante was grateful for Joan's assistance in allowing him to exterminate all of the pests in the kitchen. The demon looked down at Joan's hand on his wrist as she dragged him out of the kitchen. It was strange that a human female was touching him of her own free will and wasn't terrified. Although, long ago Jeanne d'Arc had touched him, and she hadn't been afraid either.

"Dante." Joan spoke up again.

Dante snapped out of his daze and stared down at the young woman questioningly. "Yes?"

Joan looked down at her hand on Dante's wrist and seemed to realize what she was doing. She immediately let go of Dante's wrist with an embarrassed expression on her face. "Er...sorry." She apologized as she walked away from Dante with her head down so that her bangs were shielding her expression.

Dante watched Joan go curiously. The female was acting strangely. Dante scratched his head. He didn't really understand human females.

That's when a rather strange sound caught Dante's attention. It sounded like someone was throwing up inside of the girl's bathroom. Dante turned his head to the bathroom door in concern. _Oh dear, is someone throwing up because their food was bad?_ Dante opened the door to the women's bathroom and strode inside. He walked over to the only closed stall door and stood, pondering what he should do. The phrase 'customer service' floated through his mind. Dante reached out and opened the stall door, which had been locked, but was no match against Dante's demonic strength.

There on her knees on the bathroom floor was Kim. She was currently throwing up into the toilet and her hands were gripping the toilet seat. Dante crouched by her side and reached out his hand. He hesitated and then reminded himself ' _customer service, customer service_ '. Dante placed his hand on Kim's back and began to stroke her back in a comforting manner. Or what he hoped was a comforting manner. He'd never really comforted anyone before so he couldn't be sure.

Kim's eyes snapped open in surprise. Who the hell was in the bathroom with her? She wondered. It didn't feel like a woman's hand on her back either. The hand was large, calloused, and manly. But strangely comforting.

Kim wanted to turn around to see who it was but she continued to throw up. Tears prickled Kim's eyes out of embarrassment. _How humiliating._

After a few minutes, Kim finally stopped throwing up but her body was still trembling so that comforting hand kept rubbing circles into her back. Kim looked behind her and was surprised to see Dante, the new bartender. What the hell was he doing in the women's bathroom?

Dante gave Kim a concerned look. Kim did not look like a 'happy' customer. "Are you alright, Miss? Was there something wrong with the food? If there was we would be happy to replace your meal with something else." Dante offered while remembering Joan's words.

Kim blinked back at Dante. "Uh, no, there was nothing wrong with the food. I'm sorry." _Is this guy dense or what?_

Dante frowned at the skinny, blonde girl, not really catching on. "Tsk." He clicked his tongue as he shook his head at Kim. "You should eat something else. You're much too skinny. You need to put a little more meat on your bones. Women should have wide, mother-bearing hips." Dante had noticed how the females of this era were much too skinny. They all looked like they were starving to death. Dante briefly wondered if this was because times were tough, but the city seemed prosperous so that didn't make any sense. Then he wondered if some sort of disease was going around, something similar to the Black Death. But that couldn't be right either. From what Dante had read back at the library modern medicine was incredible.

Now, Joan, on the other hand looked quite healthy and even had a slightly muscular physique. She had nice arm definition, abs, and toned legs. Not that Dante had been picturing Joan without her clothes on or anything.

_Too skinny._ Kim was swept away by Dante's words. No one had ever said she was too skinny before. He even thought she should put on more weight! "You think I'm...skinny?" Kim asked Dante and held her breath.

Dante nodded. "Most certainly. You must consume more food, or else it could be bad for your health."

Kim's expression fell and she looked guilty. "Yes, you're right."

Dante reached out and patted Kim's head. He stood up and offered his hand to Kim to help her up. Kim smiled up at Dante and took his hand. However-

A few models entered the bathroom at that moment and their eyes widened when they caught sight of Dante. "Eeeee! There's a man in the girl's bathroom!" They screeched.

The females fled the bathroom and a moment later Joan was stalking inside of the girl's bathroom with purposeful steps. She caught sight of Dante and Kim, however, and noted how Dante was still holding Kim's hand. Her initial worry about a man being inside of the girl's bathroom left her but she was left with a strange indecipherable feeling at seeing Dante and Kim alone together.

"Dante! What the hell do you think you're doing in here?" Joan approached Dante, grabbed his ear unexpectedly, and began to unceremoniously drag him from the girl's bathroom. "Men aren't allowed in the girl's bathroom...idiot!"

_Idiot?_ The insult should have irritated the demon but for some reason it only seemed to amuse him. The word coming out of Joan's mouth had almost sounded like an endearment. Dante allowed Joan to pull him along. She was hurting his ear but he could take it. "Oh, I see, but...your friend Kim was throwing up. I was concerned that something had been wrong with her food."

Joan let go of Dante's ear and turned to face him wide-eyed. "You heard Kim throwing up so you...? Argh." Joan ruffled her short bob of hair with both her hands in exasperation. She looked around conspicuously to make sure no one was around to eavesdrop on their conversation before Joan leaned forward and spoke to Dante in a low, conspiratorial tone. "Dante, nothing was wrong with the food. Kim suffers from bulimia."

Dante blinked at the unfamiliar term. "Bulimia? What is bulimia?"

Joan stared at Dante for a moment before slapping a hand to her forehead. Of course a thousand or more year old demon wouldn't know what bulimia was. "It's an eating disorder. Girls who think that they are too fat make themselves throw up after they eat so that they won't gain weight."

Dante gave Joan a confused look. "I don't understand. Why would a female care if they looked fat?"

Joan let out an exasperated sigh. "Because in this era an 'attractive' woman is considered to be a skinny woman. The skinny look has come to represent wealth and beauty. It is a trend of this era."

"How is a female who looks like she's starving to death attractive?" The demon scoffed. "The males of this era have strange taste indeed. I could practically see her ribs." Dante muttered the last sentence darkly to himself. "In the Renaissance period being fat in paintings and sculptures showed the value of the human body and pureness. Realism was a way of expression. Women were considered beautiful and sexy if they were fat. Men wanted to have a healthy woman at the home since the life expectancy around that time was about twenty-five."

Joan nodded in agreement. More than five centuries ago in France, larger women had been considered attractive. "Large breasts and full hips were a sign of fertility in that era. They were never considered overweight but as having a full figure. Nowadays, a woman who looks like Kim is considered to be _very_ attractive."

Dante shook his head, causing some of his wavy, black hair to fall into one side of his face in an attractive manner. "She would be much prettier if she gained a few pounds and looked more like...a woman. Humans are so...nonsensical. Why should she care if she's considered attractive by the masses anyways?"

"Well, Kim needs to be considered attractive by the masses, Dante. She's a model. Photos and paintings are taken of her for a living. Kim also wants to be found attractive to men, so she worries about her weight and wants to be skinny. She's always trying the latest diets and goes to the gym a lot."

"What kind of man wants his woman to be throwing up her meal in the bathroom? It's unhealthy. This is preposterous...all women are attractive in their own way." Dante stated firmly.

Joan smiled brightly at Dante then. "I think so too. This is a tough era for a woman to live in. There's a lot of pressure on how a woman should look."

Dante raised an eyebrow at Joan. "And is it the norm for a woman not to wear skirts and for her to keep her hair short?"

Joan snorted. " _I_ never follow the norm. Besides, I'm a feminist."

Dante smirked at Joan. _Feisty._ "I see. I suppose you need a strong will not to be affected by the unreasonable expectations of this era." That said Dante walked off and headed for the bar. If he stuck around any longer he might not be able to resist the sudden urge to place a kiss on those pouty lips of hers.

Joan blushed and gave Dante a strange look as he left. _Did he just give me a compliment? And was he really comforting Kim in the bathroom while she threw up? Dantalion...have you really changed? Or is this all some kind of trick?_

***

When Joan's friends had arrived at _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ , Alan had been shocked to see so many gorgeous young women. _Chance!_ This was it. Alan had worked very hard to get away from his old nerdy appearance, and now he hoped he looked handsome, hip and EMO. He knew he wasn't _bad_ looking. Maybe he could finally scrounge up the courage to talk to one of those beautiful women and ask her out.

That's when Alan saw her. His new muse. His goddess. She entered the pub after the others with Joan trailing behind. She was the most beautiful woman Alan had ever seen with long, golden hair that cascaded down to her waist, huge, honey-colored eyes, and peachy skin. She was wearing a braided headband, a belly shirt that showed off her bellybutton piercing and six-pack abs, and a flowing, bohemian, flower-print skirt. A pair of dainty, strappy sandals were on her feet. Alan also noticed the trendy, feather earrings in her ears and the matching, beaded, feather necklace around her swan-like neck. She also had the most adorable beauty mark under her left eye. Alan had a thing for beauty marks and wondered briefly if there were any other such marks on her body.

_I'm the owner of this place! I can just go and introduce myself!_ Alan thought to himself as he gathered his courage and approached Kim with stiff, robotic-like steps. He stood behind Kim, who was getting a drink. "Um, excuse me." Alan began in a low, tremulous voice.

Kim turned around and started forward. She didn't realize that someone had been standing directly behind her and so she walked right into Alan. As a result she spilled her drink all over the front of his green and white, stripped sweater.

Kim looked horrified by what she'd just done. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

Alan looked down at his sweater and let out a heavy sigh. Things never went smoothly for him when it came to women. Alan smiled at Kim and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm the owner of this pub...so feel free to get yourself another free drink."

Kim raised an eyebrow at Alan. "The owner? You're _not_ the owner." She shot back in a sassy manner with her hand on her jutted hip.

Alan blinked. "Excuse me? I-I am."

Kim tapped her chin thoughtfully as she looked Alan over from head to toe. "You're too young and handsome to be the owner. You must be the manager. Yep, that's what you really are - the manager." She clapped her hands together, and looked quite pleased with herself and her skills of deduction.

Alan rubbed his temples. "But...I am the owner. I inherited this place from my older brother. He passed away recently."

Kim's haughty expression immediately softened. "Oh...I'm sorry. Me and my big mouth! Do you need me to help clean that up?" She pointed to his sweater.

Alan looked down at his sweater, blushed at the idea of Kim placing a towel against his bare chest and shook his head. He'd love to get her hands on him but he decided he'd better not risk it. "Naw, I have like twenty more stripped sweaters just like this one upstairs." _I shouldn't have said that._

Kim giggled at that declaration. "You mean like Waldo? You're funny. What's your name?"

Alan's blue eyes twinkled at Kim's compliment. "Alan Dullahan."

"I'm Kimberley Eden. It's nice to meet you, Alan. I'll see you around." The supermodel turned around and with a flip of her hair went back to choosing a drink.

Alan sighed. He wished he'd let Kim clean his sweater. Instead Alan went upstairs to get another sweater to put on and put the soiled sweater in the dirty clothes hamper. "Kim Eden." Alan said to himself with longing. _I'd like to see her garden of Eden._ He blushed at the thought and he could feel himself slightly harden. _I can't believe I just thought that. I'm turning into a pervert._

***

The rest of the day went by quickly for Dante. Kim and her model friends left and things began to quiet down in the pub. Customers and new potential customers had consumed all of the free drinks Dante had made. All in all, Joan's idea had been a complete success. Alan was visibly happy and Joan looked proud of herself. The only ones who didn't seem too happy by this turn of events seemed to be Franky, Jenny and Ivan.

Dante still had some demonic power left over that he'd managed to harvest during the cockroach on the burger incident and decided to use it to read Franky, Jenny and Ivan's minds.

_I can't believe this shit. Where the hell did this waitress and bartender come from? This wasn't supposed to happen. No one was supposed to be hired here. We're losing our control over Alan. What will happen if Dante or Joan discovers that we've been stealing from him? Fuck._ Franky's mind.

_Ooo that Franky! I am so mad at him I could spit! How dare he ogle those models when I'm right here! Even if he decides to break up with me he can't let me go that easily. We're partners in crime. We've both been stealing from Alan and that naïve twerp has been none the wiser. We had Alan under our control until Joan and Dante showed up. I wonder what we'll do now._ Jenny's mind.

_That skinny bitch. How dare she boss me around and tell me to clean up my kitchen! Waitress Joan...just who does she think she is to tell me my kitchen is dirty? Stupid whore! I'll make that little cunt pay...and I'll enjoy it._ A lascivious smile formed on Ivan's chubby face at the thought.

Dante had to resist the urge to kill Ivan on the spot as he read the German chef's dirty thoughts concerning Joan. The demon balled his hands into fists at his sides angrily and bit his tongue until he tasted the metallic tang of blood. Alan had said he needed to settle things in a 'nonviolent manner'. But how? Franky and Jenny were stealing from Alan, and Ivan was a rapist pig. It would be so much easier to just kill them but he didn't want to destroy Alan's trust in him. Instead, he needed to reveal their true colors to Alan somehow. He needed a plan.

Midnight rolled around and Jenny and Joan started to wipe down all of the tables and put the chairs up. Dante began to wipe the bar down and finished washing all of the glasses. The first to leave the pub was Ivan, who was followed by Franky and Jenny, who left the pub arm in arm. Alan had gone upstairs to go to bed. Joan was putting the cleaning rag away when she spotted Dante at the bar. She walked over to him and gave the demon a curious look. "Planning on pulling another all-nighter?"

Dante shook his head, "No, actually, I'm exhausted. This human body is, er, I need some rest."

_Human body?_ Joan gave Dante a curious look. How was it that the demon had a human body to begin with? "That's probably a good idea. Don't push yourself too hard, Dante. Everyone needs to rest every once in a while." _Especially if it's true and his body is human now._

Dante nodded. "Indeed."

Joan turned to go. "C-ya tomorrow. Have a good night." She waved her hand through the air without looking back.

"Goodnight, Joan." Dante watched her leave when a sudden thought came to him. He opened the counter-top door and quickly strode after Joan. "Wait, Joan, I need to spea-" The demon was saying, however, Dante's vision darkened and he staggered forward as a dizzy spell hit him. He ended up falling forward and landing on his face.

Joan turned around and was surprised to see that Dante had just collapsed. The Great Demon Duke of Hell had just fainted? No way. Joan's stomach dropped at the strange sight. _What the hell?_ "Dante!" Joan hurried to Dante's side and knelt down besides him. "What's wrong?" She put a hand on the demon's shoulder.

Dante struggled to remain conscious. "N-Nothing." He tried to push himself up off the floor but he discovered that he lacked the energy. What the hell was wrong with him?

Rumble, rumble.

That's when Dante's stomach rumbled loudly and Joan's eyes widened knowingly. "Don't tell me...you're hungry? When's the last time you ate?"

Dante thought about it...the last time he ate was the dinner Fred and the others had cooked for him. "Two days ago...?"

"You idiot." Joan bonked Dante on the head lightly. "You need to eat. Everyone needs to eat, Dante, in order to keep up their strength and energy, even you. Humans, er, everyone needs to eat at least three meals a day: breakfast, lunch and dinner." Joan explained, hoping she wasn't like being totally obvious.

_This human body is such high maintenance._ Dante thought despairingly. His demonic body could easily function for several months without food.

Joan reached down and put Dante's arm over her shoulders and helped him to stand. She helped Dante over to a booth and helped him to take a seat. "Just stay here and rest. I'll cook you something."

Dante blinked at Joan in surprise. This human female was being surprisingly nice to him. "Much obliged." The demon watched Joan head to the kitchen and waited patiently for her to cook him something.

Twenty minutes later, Joan returned with a steaming plate of chicken and vegetable stir fry over white rice. She set the plate of food down in front of Dante. It looked delicious. Joan set a fork and knife down on either side of the plate of food before taking a seat across from Dante in the booth. She propped her chin in one hand and looked at Dante expectantly with a smile on her face. "I hope you like it."

Dante picked up the fork, scooped up some chicken and rice, and plopped it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed with a blank look on his face.

"Well?" Joan asked with a hopeful note to her voice.

_Awful._ It was utterly disgusting! Dante's eyes teared up from the revolting taste. Did humans really eat food that tasted like this? This definitely rivaled some of Hell's most dangerous dishes made with water from the Phlegethon River. Lucifer himself would probably have a hard time consuming this sinister concoction. What had she done to it? Dante wondered. Was Joan trying to poison him? Had she figured out that he wasn't human but a demon?

Dante looked up and met Joan's eyes. She didn't _look_ like she was trying to poison him, which could only mean that this human female simply failed at cooking. He was about to open his mouth and tell her so when _something_ held him back. Joan had apparently worked hard and done her best to cook for him. And as inexplicable as it was, Dante found that he didn't want to hurt the female's feelings by admitting how awful her cooking was.

"It's good." Dante replied as he began to shovel the chicken stir fry into his mouth at a fast pace. He was a Great Duke of Hell. He could handle this torture, this _challenge_. This was nothing.

Joan let out a breath of relief. "Phew, I'm glad you like it." A smug expression came to her face. "And my friend Kim says I can't cook! Ha! Take that Kim. I _have_ been practicing my butt off. Maybe I got better?"

Dante nodded in agreement as his eyes teared, his face turned green, and his stomach twisted. "Indeed."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Joan finally asked once Dante had finished eating.

Dante put his fork down and his expression turned serious. "I wish to know how to resolve a certain issue...nonviolently. For example, what measures are usually taken to prevent thievery from a place like this?"

"Thievery? Well..." Joan looked around the pub. "Usually places like this have security cameras to discourage employees from stealing. I'm surprised Alan hasn't installed any cameras actually." She shrugged. "But then again...Alan _is_ awfully trusting."

"Security cameras." Dante repeated slowly. He would find out what these 'security cameras' were immediately. He was tempted to ask Joan about them but thought it would look suspicious.

Joan realized that Dante was probably wondering what the hell a security camera was. She decided to oblige him. "Security cameras are really useful because they capture images of people secretly that can be watched at a later time."

Dante stroked his chin. "I see. How useful." Images of people captured by an object...much like the images one can see in a crystal ball or scrying pool in Hell. Except this device could capture those images and play them at a later time. _Fascinating._ "Alan is too trusting."

Joan gave Dante a sharp look. "Are you implying that someone is stealing from Alan?"

A scowl formed on Dante's face. "Until I have concrete evidence I will accuse no one. Alan needs to discover the truth on his own."

_Stubborn demon._ Joan couldn't help but be surprised that it appeared that Dante wanted to help Alan. Joan looked down at her watch. It was twelve thirty-five. If she stayed any longer Michael would be worried. Joan stood up from the booth. "I have to go...my dog is at home waiting for me." She explained.

"Dog?" Dante echoed. Why did that sound familiar?

"Night, Dante." Joan said casually as she left.

"Goodnight, Joan." Dante called after her, a pensive look on his face.

"So...you got to try Joan's home cooking. I'm envious." Alan said in a singsong voice as he slid in across from Dante at the booth. The demon was still focused on Joan's departing figure. A knowing smile curled Alan's lips. Alan reached over, picked up the fork, and scooped up some of the chicken stir fry before putting it into his mouth.

Alan's eyes bulged. He picked up a napkin and spit the food out into it. "Oh my God! Yuck! What did Joan do to that poor chicken stir fry?"

Dante finally turned his attention to his young boss who was currently spitting Joan's stir fry out into a napkin like a sissy boy. Heh. He couldn't handle the hellish cuisine but Dante could.

That's when Dante put a hand over his mouth. He was suddenly feeling sick. Dante quickly stood up from the booth and ran for the men's bathroom. Dante entered the men's bathroom, ran over to one of the stalls, flung the door open, and crouched down in front of the toilet before puking his guts out. _Ugh_.

Alan entered the bathroom, went over to Dante, and patted his back just like he'd done earlier to Kim. "You were very brave to eat Joan's cooking even though it tasted horrible. You didn't want to hurt her feelings, did you? And that's why you didn't tell her the truth about how it tasted, right?"

_Hurt her feelings?_ Since when did he care about a human female's feelings? Dante mused. Was that really why he hadn't told Joan the truth? But why would he care about Joan's feelings? He barely knew her. And it wasn't like her pale green eyes and great legs had captivated him from the very beginning or anything like that.

Alan stood up. "It's still unhealthy to go home on an empty stomach. I'll make you some porridge. It should be easy on your stomach." The pub owner offered as he left the bathroom.

Unfortunately, Dante was unable to tell Alan that the last thing on his mind was food since he was still too busy puking his guts out. Once he finished throwing up, he stood, and went over to the sink to rinse his mouth out. He exited the bathroom, and spotted Alan sitting at one of the booths with a bowl in front of him. Dante walked over and took a seat in front of Alan. Alan slid the bowl of porridge in Dante's direction. It already had a spoon in it.

Dante looked down at the bowl of porridge skeptically. The white mixture had a swirl of honey, yogurt and nuts.

Alan chuckled at Dante's wary expression. "It'll taste good. I promise. I tried it myself to make sure. And since I was in the kitchen I was able to discover why Joan's cooking had tasted so horrible."

Dante's eyebrows raised and he gave Alan an interested look. "Oh? Do tell."

"Joan had apparently added crushed vitamins and powdered protein to the stir fry. I saw the plastic jar of powdered protein open and noticed a few crushed vitamins since Joan forgot to clean up after herself. I guess Joan is a bit of a health nut." Alan smiled in amusement.

Dante's lip twitched at this discovery. "I see." _A dangerous woman in the kitchen indeed._ He picked up the spoon, spooned himself a bit of porridge, put it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. His eyes widened in surprise. It was really good. Dante took another bite and another. Before he realized it he'd finished the entire bowl of porridge and his stomach felt more settled. Dante looked up at Alan. "That was really good, Boss. You know how to cook?"

Alan nodded. "My old man taught me. I love cooking but Ivan doesn't let me into the kitchen. My older brother George never let me cook either." He pouted. "Ivan says I'm incompetent in the kitchen." Alan shrugged. "I can't really disagree with the Head Chef since without him I'd be kind of screwed."

Dante gave Alan a thoughtful look. "I think if you were in the kitchen this place would _improve_ , not suffer."

Alan laughed in a self-deprecating manner. "That's nice of you to say."

_Nice?_ Was Dante trying to be nice? No. He was merely telling the truth. "It's the truth. Boss...by the way...why don't you have 'security cameras' here?"

Alan blinked at Dante, surprised by the random question. "Because I trust all of you."

Dante sighed. He figured it was a reason like that. "But what if there's an armed robbery here or some such incident. You don't think you could benefit from these 'security cameras'?"

Alan thought about it. "Well, if _you_ think it would be a good idea to have them installed then...I'll do it. I'll have them installed early tomorrow morning before we open. That sound good?" The young pub owner couldn't help the thought that flitted through his mind - that Dante was acting kind of like an older brother to him. Dante was acting how he wished George had acted when he'd still been alive.

Dante nodded and smiled. "Don't tell the others you have installed the security cameras. They need not know."

Alan gave Dante a perplexed look but ultimately agreed. "Alright. I trust your judgment, Dante."

***

That night, Dante slept like a rock. His body had never felt so...tired before. The next morning, he awoke and made sure to consume 'breakfast' like Joan had advised him so that his body would not become weak again and lose energy. It was bothersome, but necessary.

Dante walked to work and observed the 'human carriages' or rather 'cars', he reminded himself, speeding past him. He decided that he'd like to have a car. Back in Hell Dante had a dragon of his very own to ride - the strongest of its kind. A black dragon. Here he'd been reduced to going to places on foot, like a commoner. He wondered how much a car cost and decided he'd look into it.

Dante arrived at a crosswalk and waited for the signal to change. His first experience with the crosswalks had been on All Hollow's Night. That nun and her dog had saved him from getting run over by a car. Dante tried to remember the young woman's face. It had been dark out but...for some reason he was picturing Joan's face. _Joan?_ Dante thought and shook his head. No...that young woman hadn't been Joan. Joan was a waitress not a nun. Although now that Dante thought about it that nun was probably not a _real_ nun after all since all of the humans had been dressed in costume that night.

Dante crossed the street and continued his way to _Dullahan's Irish Pub_. The exterior needed to be repainted, and the sign also needed to be redone. He decided that he would speak to Alan about this endeavor later. Dante had never done much manual labor before, but he felt confident he could handle something as easy as painting.

It was eight o'clock on the dot as Dante strolled into _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ and the bell above the door jingled. Surprisingly, Franky was already behind the bar, but from the looks of it he was just fooling around on his laptop. The human who invented the 'Internet' and 'laptops' had no respect for 'work productivity' apparently. The demon mused.

Thanks to Fred, Dante now owned his very own laptop, which he kept back at his apartment and used for researching this era. He even knew how to 'surf the web'. Dante had read up on the present state of the economy in America and saw that they were coming out of a recession. If the humans weren't wasting all of their time on facebook, twitter, and the Internet, Dante was sure that the economy would be recovering much faster. But he was a demon, so what did he know?

Dante looked around the pub for any sign of Joan, but Jenny was suddenly standing in front of him and batting her eyelashes at him. "Good morning, Dante." Jenny cooed.

"Good morning, Jenny." Dante drawled as he raised an eyebrow at the waitress wondering just what she was up to now.

Jenny crossed her arms below her chest and pushed them up to increase her cleavage. Dante ignored her flirtatious actions, looked around, and finally spotted Joan wiping down the tables. A small smile formed on his lips at the sight of the tomboyish waitress. Today, Joan was wearing a pair of tight, black leather pants that looked amazing on her shapely legs. Dante thought that those pants were probably sexier than if Joan had chosen to wear a skirt. He had a new appreciation for women wearing pants all of a sudden. Joan was also wearing the same dark green tank top that had the words ' _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ ' on it in swirly black letters that she'd had on yesterday, and her usual boots. She was slightly bent over as she cleaned the table giving Dante a nice view of her tight ass. The demon's mouth had gone dry. _Joan has killer legs._

Jenny followed Dante's line of sight and huffed. "Hmph!" _What does he see in that flat-chested little bitch?_

Dante strode over to greet Joan. He cleared his throat so he wouldn't startle her. "Ahem. Good morning, Joan."

Joan turned around and looked at Dante in surprise. "Oh...good morning, Dante."

Dante surreptitiously looked around the pub while he pretended his attention was still on Joan. He spotted the new 'security cameras' easily with his keen vision. They were pretty small so he doubted the others would even notice the change. A sly smile curled his lips. Now he just had to wait for Franky, Jenny and Ivan to make a false step and then _bam_. Nonviolent retribution would be upon them. Dante cackled evilly in his mind. Retribution was such fun.

In this manner, a new day at _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ had begun. Dante made his way behind the bar and prepared to receive customers. Hours passed but no one came into the pub. Dante frowned. He suspected that the peeling paint and faded sign didn't help attract customers very much.

Dante began to mix a Leprechaun's Lunch. He poured Bailey's Irish Cream, crème de menthe, and crème de cacao over ice in a shaker tin, filled it with milk, and stirred.

"What are you doing, bro?" Franky looked up from his laptop where he'd been looking at pictures of naked women on the Internet.

"I'm mixing a drink." Dante said simply. _As a human would say 'duh'._

Franky rolled his eyes and closed his laptop. "I know that. I'm asking _why_. We don't have any customers."

"Exactly." Dante said as he took out a tray and began to put twenty shot glasses on it. He then poured the drink into the shot glasses. "Joan can stand out front and give these drink samples to passersby."

Franky snorted. "Do you know how cold it is outside? Joan will never want to-"

"I don't mind." Joan interrupted Franky, as she skipped over to the bar and looked down at the drink samples curiously. "I think this is a good idea. And I like to work. I don't like just standing around and being idle." Joan gave Jenny a poignant look. The other waitress was currently doing her nails.

Jenny looked up from doing her nails and huffed. Her black nails were now zebra stripped with white streaks. "If you want to go outside and freeze your ass off that's your business."

"Don't swear." Joan murmured. "Are the samples ready?" She asked Dante.

Dante nodded and gave Joan a concerned look. "I didn't take the weather into consideration. I could go outside instead."

Joan waved Dante off. "Don't be silly. You need to be in here. These are _your_ drinks that people will want to order the full version of. A little cold can't keep me down!"

Dante's lip twitched. The girl had spunk. He had to give her that.

Joan put on her jacket, picked up the tray, and went outside to see if anyone was passing by that she could give a free drink sample to. It didn't take long before Joan was handing out free drink samples and attracting customers to _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ once again. The drink that Dante had prepared was apparently really good. Joan smiled. She felt proud of Dante for some reason. His hard work, practicing, and all of his studying how to mix different drinks was really paying off. As Alan said Dante seemed to have a natural talent as a bartender.

Dante also looked extremely handsome in his new bartending outfit that Alan had apparently made by hand. It consisted of a white, button-down shirt, black leather vest, a purple bowtie, and a pair of black silk pants. The bowtie would have been effeminate on anyone else other than Dante but he was able to pull it off while maintaining his masculinity.

Joan continued to attract customers, who entered the pub, and had Dante make them the full version of the drink they'd sampled outside. A few also ordered food. _Dullahan's_ began to rake in the dough. Franky and Jenny shared a secretive smile as things really began to pick up.

Joan reentered the pub once it was full, and began to help Jenny with taking people's orders. Alan entered the main restaurant area and began to greet customers and ask them if everything was all right. The customers seemed to be charmed by Alan's good looks and kind demeanor. The customers were also surprised to discover that such a charming, young man was the new owner of the pub too.

Three young women who were seated at the bar asked Dante to give them three shots of something really strong and of something he thought they would enjoy. "Alright ladies." Dante obliged, and pulled a bottle of hot pink liqueur down from the shelf. He'd tried it yesterday, and had been intrigued by its label, which read: "Sweet Revenge - wild strawberry 'sour mash'". It was sweet, and fruity but 77 proof!

He'd learned a flair bartending technique and was excited to try it out on the patrons. It was a pouring technique to pour the three shooters at the same time. Dante set out three low glasses on the bar first. Then Dante got out four shaker tins to mix the drinks in. Dante lined the four shaker tins along the bar. He knew that he would only need three, but the forth tin was going to be used as a strainer.

First, Dante added the same amount of ice to the three tins, and then grabbed the bottle of Sweet Revenge before turning it upside down, and pouring a shot's worth into each shaker tin one at a time. Dante gave the liqueur a minute to chill. After that Dante began to stack the shaker tins all together, one on top of the other, and Dante placed the forth empty shaker tin inside of the third shaker tin because it was going to act as a strainer and hold the ice back that was in the other tins.

Dante held the four tins up in front of him in his hands and made a 'smiley face' with them. Basically, he was holding the shakers horizontally and began to tilt the shakers to his right, so that the Sweet Revenge began to pour out of the first shaker, then the second and lastly the third as Dante increased the angle he was holding the shakers. In this manner, Dante poured the three shots at one time with a little bit of flair.

The three young ladies were definitely impressed and clapped loudly in response. They picked up their shots, gulped them back in one go and instantly began to gush and make comments about the sweet but incredibly strong shot Dante had served them.

_Show off._ Franky was glaring at Dante out of the corner of his eye.

All in all, it was another successful day at _Dullahan's_. However, Dante knew that Franky and Jenny were up to something. They'd been sharing secretive glances all day. Midnight finally rolled around, but Jenny and Franky stayed behind and waited for Dante, Joan, and Ivan to leave the pub, and for Alan to go to bed, before they made their move.

What the couple didn't know is that Dante only pretended to leave. After he made it to the end of the block he walked back to _Dullahan's_ and snuck inside. The pub was quiet and pitch-black. Dante knew Alan was probably asleep upstairs. That's when Dante heard 'voices' and followed them to Alan's office, which was locked. Dante used his keen demon hearing to hear the conversation that was going on within. He also heard the unmistakable sound of a safe being opened. "Oooo look at all that money. It's been a while since this place had anything worth stealing!" Jenny's voice.

"Shhh! Keep your voice down, babe. We'll take half. Poor Alan, he never notices that we're stealing from him. He's way too trusting." Franky chuckled as he took out half the money that was in the safe before splitting it with Jenny.

Jenny let out a disappointed sigh as she counted her share. "I really need more than this. You know how much it costs to get a pedicure these days? Forty bucks! When are you going to put our plan into action?"

Franky let out a frustrated noise. "We were supposed to threaten, oops, I mean 'convince' Alan to change his will so that this place would belong to us in the event of his death. After that, we would have killed the naïve, weak, fool, but...now that that bartender and waitress have shown up, I dunno. They've thrown a wrench into our plans. We won't be able to get rid of Alan so easily."

Dante's eyes widened. This was even worse than he'd thought. Franky and Jenny were not only stealing from Alan, but were planning to trick Alan into leaving them the pub in his will, only to kill him off afterwards. _Those fucking bastards._ So this was how they repaid Alan's kindness and trust? They were like demons in human skin. The irony of that thought was of course not lost on Dantalion.

"But sweetie, I'm sick of looking at his pathetic face." Jenny complained and twirled a strand of her dark hair around her finger. "He would have been so easy to kill if it weren't for Dante and Joan. Shit."

"We could just kill him right now." Franky suggested and a cruel smile twisted his lips. "I bet he's asleep right now."

Jenny rolled her eyes at her badass lover. "Then we'd get nothing, stupid. This place is still in his name. What if we try to recruit Dante and Joan? Maybe they'd join forces with us. _Everyone_ has a price."

"I dunno." Franky scowled. "They seem to like Alan a lot for some unfathomable reason. I don't get why anyone would like that wimpy little coward. He's such a waste of the Earth's oxygen."

_No, that's you Franky._ Dante shot back venomously in his mind.

"I know. Can you believe at his age he's never had a girlfriend? And he's still a virgin. Talk about pathetic." Jenny jeered and cackled loudly.

Franky chuckled maliciously in response. "Maybe you could do him a favor before we kill him and help him to get rid of his pesky virginity, babe?"

"Maybe. I doubt he'd be able to satisfy me like you do, Franky." She purred, hopped up onto the desk, and spread her legs in a bold manner.

"You're not wearing any underwear, and you've been prancing around the pub in a skirt that short all day." Franky licked his lips. "You really are shameless, babe. And I love it." The sound of a zipper being pulled down was heard, followed by heavy footsteps.

"Ah!" Jenny threw her head back and cried out in wanton pleasure as Franky thrust his cock all the way inside of her in one go.

Franky began to pound in and out of her, quickly finding a rhythm, and the sound of wet flesh smacking into flesh filled the office.

"How do you like being between Christmas and Easter?" Jenny leaned over to rasp into Franky's ear.

Franky ran his tongue over his teeth. "I love it, babe."

More grunts and moans filled the office and their volume seemed to be increasing as the passion built up between them.

Dante pulled his ear back, and his lip curled in disgust. Those filthy humans were mating on Alan's desk by the sound of it. Dante had to use all of his willpower not to go up those stairs and wake Alan up right then and there so that he could show him just what Jenny and Franky were up to at that very moment.

But Dante also knew that if he actually witnessed what those demons in human skin were doing - actually saw it with his own two eyes - that he wouldn't be able to hold himself back and would probably kill Franky and Jenny on the spot. That's why Dante turned around and headed for the main restaurant area instead. He took a seat in a booth. There was an unfortunate fork that was sitting on the table. Dante picked it up and bent it into a pretzel. When Franky and Jenny left the pub an hour later they didn't even notice Dante, who was sitting silently in one of the booths watching them with golden eyes filled with hate. _No one messes with my Boss._

***

Early the next morning, Alan woke up, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and got dressed for the day in a _Dullahan's_ dark green t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. He'd designed the _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ t-shirts and tank tops, and had always wanted to update the pub's logo, but his brother had never let him. Well, now that his brother George was dead, Alan supposed there wasn't really anyone stopping him from making a new logo for the pub. The new logo would feature a drawing of the headless horsewoman that haunted Alan's dreams, or perhaps he should say nightmares.

Alan yawned widely as he made his way down the steps that led into the restaurant. He yawned again as he headed towards the bar. He needed to make himself a cup of coffee. He was an absolute zombie without his morning coffee.

That's when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Alan turned and spotted Dante sitting in one of the booths silently. The dark-haired man was just sitting there and staring off into space, apparently lost in thought.

Alan was so startled to see another 'person' there at that ungodly hour that he screamed (like a little girl). He was probably never going to live that one down.

Dante looked up and caught sight of his frightened boss. "Ah, Boss, you're finally awake."

Alan put his hand over his hammering heart and took deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down. It was only Dante. _Phew._ "D-Dante...what are you doing here at this hour?"

Dante stood up and headed for the bar. "Allow me to make you some coffee, Boss."

Alan pouted at being ignored, sighed, and rubbed his temples. He was used to people not really listening to him or downright ignoring him. "Oh, alright, sure. Thanks."

Dante opened counter-top door and got behind the bar. He began to skillfully prepare Alan a cup of coffee. Alan took a seat at the bar and watched as Dante prepared him a cup of coffee. Before Dante's arrival making a cup of coffee was simply putting two scoops of coffee, and one cup of water into his automatic coffee maker and pressing a button.

But now...making a cup of coffee was no longer such a simple affair. Dante had somehow managed to find the Bodum Vacuum Coffee Maker that Alan forgot they even owned. The vacuum coffee maker consisted of two glass globes, a filter, and a stand. The bottom globe was where you would put the water, and the top globe was where you put the coffee. Dante had also found a coffee grinder Alan didn't know he had and began to grind some coffee (giving it a coarse grind).

Dante recalled the instructions he'd read in a book and noted that for seven hundred and fifty milliliters of water he should use thirty grams of coffee. That was ten grams of coffee per two hundred and fifty milliliters, or one cup of coffee.

Dante filled the bottom globe with seven hundred and fifty milliliters of water, placed it on the stove, and turned the flame on high. He placed the second globe on top and added the thirty grams of coffee. He placed the lid on the top of the globe and waited. The water began to boil and began to pass through the filter and into the second globe.

Dante recalled the instructions he'd read word for word and reread them in his mind: ' _The device's working principle is based on expansion and contraction of a gas (water vapor). The bottom globe is heated up, which creates the water vapor. The vapor pushes the water up the tube and through the filter to the upper globe. This process takes about seven minutes. Once the top globe is full you turn off the heat. What goes up must come down. The vapor in the lower chamber cools down and contracts. That creates a vacuum and the suction pulls the liquid back down to the bottom globe._ '

Once the top globe was full, Dante turned off the flame and moved the coffee maker to a cool burner. Then the coffee began to drip down and fill the bottom globe. Dante waited forty seconds. The entire process took less than ten minutes. Dante removed the top globe and tube, and put the tube into a plastic stand that had been made for that purpose.

In minutes, Dante was setting the perfect cup of coffee down in front of Alan. The coffee was sweet and had no sediment. Alan blinked as he looked down at the four-leaf clover design in the milk foam. _Wow._ Alan wrapped his cold fingers around the warm coffee cup and sighed with contentment as he took a whiff of the coffee's rich aroma. Alan picked up the cup, blew on it, and took a sip. "Mmm...that's nice. Sweet." Alan looked up and gave Dante an expectant look. "So are you going to tell me why you're here so early in the morning?"

"You should finish your coffee first, Boss." Dante advised in a dour tone.

Alan frowned as he noticed Dante's sudden seriousness. "Huh...well, why don't you join me then?"

Dante blinked. He looked at the coffee Alan was drinking. He didn't really understand the humans' fascination for coffee. But he'd seen plenty of humans especially in this particular era go crazy for their cup of coffee in the morning. _What's so great about the beverage anyways?_ Dante shrugged and prepared himself a cup of coffee. He took a sip and his eyes widened. There was something about the hot beverage that seemed to make his human senses come more alive. Maybe in order to appreciate the greatness of coffee one had to have a human body.

Alan laughed at the expression of wonderment on Dante's face. "Amen. There's no way to start the day than with a nice cup of coffee."

"Most certainly." Dante agreed with a nod.

The two men drank their coffees in silence until Alan finally finished. Dante opened the counter-top door, and began to head towards Alan's office. "Come with me, Boss."

"Ah, wait up!" Alan called as he hopped off the barstool and followed after Dante.

Dante entered the office and waited for Alan to follow him inside. "Boss, I want you to watch the footage that was captured inside of your office from last night around one o'clock AM." Dante instructed coolly.

Alan frowned and gave Dante a questioning look. "Why?"

"Just do it, Boss." Dante crossed his arms over his chest and gave Alan an expectant look. He wasn't going to be taking 'no' for an answer. Alan needed to learn the truth.

"Okay." Alan moved to take a seat behind his desk and opened his laptop. He brought up the security footage that had been taken inside of his office around one o'clock in the morning. Alan clicked on the video and it began to play. At first, nothing was happening until Alan watched as Franky and Jenny entered his office. Alan watched as the couple made their way over to his safe and opened it. The young pub owner watched them steal from him. He also listened to all of their cruel insults that were like daggers being flung at his heart.

But it only got worse as Alan continued to listen to the couple, and discovered their plan of convincing him to leave the pub to Franky or Jenny in his will, and then to kill him off. They actually wanted to kill him. They wanted him dead. They hated him. Alan probably would have been able to forgive them for stealing from him. He would have happily given them a second chance even. But murder? They had crossed the line.

Alan scrubbed a hand down his face. He felt dizzy, and his mind was spinning. He didn't want to believe it. _They actually want to kill me. They want me dead. Do they really hate me that much? I thought they liked me...I'm such an idiot._ Alan gripped his stomach next. It was tying itself into knots. He felt queasy, sick all of a sudden, and raised his hand over his mouth as he gagged. Alan couldn't decide if he wanted to throw up or pass out.

At this point in the video, Jenny and Franky were having sex right on his desk.

That did it. Alan grabbed the plastic trashcan that was sitting next to his desk and began to throw up into it.

Dante frowned at the sight. Alan was a mess. The young man was taking things even worse than he thought he would. It made him want to torture and then kill Franky and Jenny for hurting an innocent, trusting soul like Alan. Dante didn't know what it was about the young man but he brought out Dante's protective instincts.

Alan began to dry heave and tears sprung to his eyes. He'd trusted Franky and Jenny. He'd considered them family and yet they'd betrayed him.

Dante couldn't explain why he did it, but he went to Alan's side and patted his back. If those under his command back in Hell could see him now they'd probably try to overthrow him, gain control of his legions, and all of his assets. But there was something strangely familiar about Alan. It was like Dante already knew Alan from somewhere. This was impossible, of course, but this strange feeling of déjà vu would not leave Dante.

Alan almost reminded him off...no, Dante shook his head. There was no way. There couldn't possibly be a connection between Alan and Dante's former master, Solomon, right?

Alan gave Dante a sad look. "Maybe this is all my fault. Maybe...I'm just not cut out to be anyone's boss."

"You're wrong." Dante countered. "A good boss makes his men realize they have more ability than they think they have so that they consistently do better work than they thought they could. You believed I could be a great bartender and so I am. Without you...I would still be a dream and not a reality."

"Dante." Alan was all choked up. "Thank you. For opening my eyes."

"Anytime." Dante nodded. "What do you plan to do now, Boss? Turn them into the police?" _Or perhaps you will order me to kill them. Frankly, I'm hoping for option B. It would be much more fun._

Alan shook his head. "No. But I know what I must do." A steely look formed in his blue eyes. Alan waited impatiently for the others to arrive at _Dullahan's_ before he approached everyone and cleared his throat. "Ahem. I have something to say to all of you so please gather 'round."

Franky was behind the bar on his laptop while on facebook, busy checking his new messages, and his friends' status updates, so frowned. "Hey Alan, can't you see I'm _busy?_ "

Jenny was gluing tiny rhinestones to her nails that already had the finished zebra striped pattern. "Yea, we're busy, Alan. You can talk to us all later."

Alan frowned and clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "N-No I need to speak to all of you right now." He raised his voice so that it had a firm edge.

Joan immediately stopped polishing the silverware, and walked over to Alan. Dante opened the bar counter-top door, and held it open for Franky while giving the senior bartender an expectant look.

"Tch." Franky made a disgruntled noise as he exited out from behind the bar.

"Ivan! Get out here too!" Alan called in the loudest voice anyone had ever heard him use yet.

"What? I'm busy!" Ivan started to object.

"NOW!" Alan shouted. He was trembling slightly, and red-faced.

"Whoa. What's got his panties in a twist? Coming! Geesh." Ivan called out, grumbling all the while.

In minutes, everyone was gathered around Alan and waiting to hear what he had to say. Alan looked at Franky and Jenny with a sad, disappointed look on his face. "Before I begin...Franky, Jenny, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Franky and Jenny exchanged a questioning look before they both shrugged. "Like what boss-man?" Jenny asked in a sassy manner.

"Is there anything you'd perhaps like to apologize for?" Alan prodded.

"Apologize?" Franky growled, approached Alan, and grabbed the collar of Alan's t-shirt before bringing him close, eye to eye. "Are _you_ accusing _us_ of something, you little twerp?"

Dante started forward but Joan put a hand on Dante's arm to stop him. Dante turned to give Joan a questioning look but she shook her head at him.

Alan met Franky's fierce gaze. "Yes."

Franky's jaw dropped. The cowardly little twerp was actually standing up to him? He couldn't believe it. _What the fuck? Why...?_ He looked over Alan's shoulder and saw a livid looking Dante. _Ah, now that Alan has a guard dog he's suddenly acting like he has balls. Ha! Fuck that!_ He was so pissed.

Jenny on the other hand was looking extremely nervous. Her eyes kept darting to the exit as if she were contemplating on whether or not she should just make a break for it.

"You guys have been stealing from me," Alan began in a hurt tone.

"What? That's ridiculous!" Jenny burst out, looking offended. "Why would we steal from you? We're practically family, Alan." Her tone was chiding. "If-If anyone's robbed you it must be one of _them_!" Jenny pointed an accusing finger at Dante and Joan.

Dante's eyes narrowed at Jenny dangerously and this caused her to suck in a breath. Suddenly, Dante looked rather terrifying.

Joan just rolled her eyes and gave Jenny a skeptical look. "As if, I'd _never_ steal something." _It's a sin after all. Michael would have my head! But that doesn't mean I'm a White Dove either unfortunately..._

Alan let out a heavy sigh. "Wait here." The pub owner went to his office, grabbed his laptop, and brought it with him as he returned to the main restaurant area. Alan made his way over to the bar and set the laptop down on the bar counter. He opened his laptop, turned it on, and brought up the security camera footage. "I had a security company put in some hidden cameras in my office and I caught Jenny and Franky stealing from me." Alan explained as he clicked on the video and it began to play.

Jenny looked outraged and her nails were digging into her palms. "What? You can't do that! It's illegal to put hidden cameras in an establishment without telling your employees first! We could sue you!"

Alan gave Jenny a sad, broken look. "Illegal? I wonder if plotting someone's murder would be considered a crime?"

Jenny sucked in a breath. "W-What?"

The video began to get to the part where Jenny and Franky discussed their plan to convince Alan to leave the pub to them in his will and that afterwards they would kill him.

Joan gasped and raised a hand in front of her mouth. _Those jerks! How dare they plot to kill Alan!_ "You conniving bi- er, skank!" Joan stalked towards Jenny and grabbed her by the front of her shirt. "How dare you take advantage of Alan's kindness!" She balled her right hand into a fist and raised it threateningly at Jenny.

Jenny's eyes went wide before a sly smile curled her lips. "What's this? Are you actually going to punch me, Joan? That would be assault, you know? I know you think that I'm the low class one, but...I'm not the one resorting to violence now am I? I have more _class_ than you! You're just a poser, Joan. I can tell...this whole goody two-shoes persona of yours - it's just an act. I know what you're really like. Hey, boss, did you do a background check on this bitch? I bet she has a skeleton or two in her closet!"

Joan flinched, and the blood slowly began to drain from her face. She did in fact have a skeleton or two in her closet.

Dante was giving Joan a curious look as she let go of her hold on Jenny. _What secrets could such an innocent human female possibly have in her past?_ He wondered.

"That's it...I'm calling the cops." Joan said as she stalked over to the phone at the bar and picked it up, ready to dial 911, or better yet the phone number for Detective Dekker.

"You're going to turn us into the cops?" Franky snarled. "You ungrateful little twerp."

Alan put his hands over Franky's. "No, I'm not. Joan, don't call the cops."

Joan shot Alan a look of disbelief. "W-What? You can't be serious. They wanted to kill you!"

"I know. And I'll never forgive them. I loved them like family." Alan spun to face Franky and Jenny. "In fact, Franky, Jenny, truth is...I already put the pub in your names. If anything had happened to me you guys would have gotten it."

"What?" Franky let go of Alan and staggered backwards in shock.

"I'm going to have to change that now of course. I'm very disappointed in you guys. Just know that the one you screwed over with all this was _yourselves_. Letting you guys go while knowing the big mistake you both made is punishment enough, I think. Jenny, Franky, you're _fired_." That said Alan put his back to them since he was unable to look upon their faces any longer.

Jenny was giving Alan a shocked look. "A-Alan, wait, you can't...I'm sorry. I take it all back! It was all Franky's idea!"

"What was that bitch?" Franky whirled on his lover. "Don't you dare try to blame this one on me, cunt!" Spit was flying from the bartender's mouth. "You wanted him dead just as much as I did!" Franky bellowed, reached out, and grabbed the back of Alan's shirt before spinning him around. He then began to choke Alan with his shirt collar. "You can't do this to us! You can't fire us!"

Alan began to choke as his t-shirt was twisted tightly around his neck. He tried to pry Franky's hands off of him but he was too strong. "F-Franky!"

In the blink of an eye, Dante was at Alan's side, pulling Franky off of him, and sending him flying across the floor towards the exit door. The large man landed with a heavy thud on the floor. Franky stood up, blood boiling, livid, and his eyes were blazing. "You can't treat me like this! This is _my_ pub! _Mine!_ " The bartender growled as he stalked towards Alan menacingly.

Alan took a step back out of fear.

But Dante appeared in front of Alan again and cracked his knuckles at Franky. "Boss, would you like me to evict this ruffian from the premises in a nonviolent manner?"

Alan blinked. "Uh...yea."

Dante approached Franky, grabbed him by the back of his shirt, and lifted him right up off the floor. "Ack! Let go of me, you prissy boy freak!" Franky growled.

Dante ignored the insult, carried Franky towards the exit, opened the door, and simply tossed him outside before closing the door behind him.

What everyone didn't see was that Dante had tossed Franky clear across the street and the bartender had landed on the roof of a parked car.

There was a loud ominous _crunch_ that came from outside, however. "Franky!" Jenny cried out in concern as she ran for the exit and flung the door open. She gasped and raised a hand in front of her mouth. "Oh my God...how...?"

Joan strode over to stand next to Jenny, and peered out the doorway and across the street where she saw Franky's unconscious body on the roof of a crumpled car. "Glad I didn't park across the street." But a second later, Joan smacked a hand to her head and groaned. _That stupid demon! Talk about overkill. He'll be discovered if he keeps up crap like this!_

"Franky!" Jenny screeched and ran out into the street.

"What happened?" Alan asked as he approached Joan.

Joan quickly shut the door, put her back to it in order to block Alan, and began to laugh nervously. "N-Nothing, Boss. Franky is so pathetic he just fainted."

Alan furrowed his brow at Joan. "Oh, I see." He sighed. "Well, it looks like _Dullahan's_ is down to one waitress and one bartender again. I'll have to put up the Help Wanted sign again."

"Hey, don't worry about it, Boss!" Joan whacked Alan's back nearly causing him to fall over. "You still have all of us!" Joan waved her hand at Dante and Ivan.

"Joan's right." Ivan said smoothly as he approached Alan and ruffled Alan's hair. "You have us, kid." A slimy smiled curled his lips. _Phew...looks like I wasn't caught yet. But this is probably my last night here._

The German chef looked at Joan out of the corner of his eyes. _If I'm going to be leaving this place...I want to get a taste of that nice piece of ass first._ An evil plan began to form in Ivan's mind.

_To be continued..._ in Drink 6: Adios Motherfucker

Dantalion: "Greetings lowly human, so you wish to know how to make a Leprechaun's Lunch? Pour 1 ounce of Bailey's Irish Cream, 1 ounce of crème de menthe, and 1 ounce of crème de cacao over two ice cubes in a small highball glass, fill it with milk and stir. Enjoy. Don't forget to drink responsibly, human. You don't want to get a 'DUI'...whatever that is. But many humans fear this and talk about it a lot when they're out drinking. So beware."

### Chapter 6: Adios Motherfucker

The rest of the day at _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ was pretty uneventful. They only had a few customers - a couple of men, who went there during their lunch break, and then a group of young women, who came later in the evening to have their drinks made by the handsome Dante. Apparently, word was spreading about the wickedly skilled and good-looking bartender through New York City like wildfire.

Lately Joan was pretty impressed with Dante and how he'd helped Alan see Franky and Jenny's true colors. She was also very surprised Dante had settled things nonviolently. She recalled a time more than five hundred years ago, when the renowned commander of thirty-six demonic legions, Dantalion, would unflinchingly cut people's heads off. The demon had changed or he just appeared that way. Joan _still_ didn't trust him.

Dante was still her greatest enemy - a demon she would sooner or later have to kill. Joan watched as the door to _Dullahan's_ opened and a group of pretty, young women, who were all bundled up because of the cold, arrived. In seconds, their coats, expensive leather jackets, scarves and gloves came off to reveal their scantily clad forms. Joan gawked at what they were wearing - tight, low-cut, animal-print, sequined shirts and tank tops along with short leather skirts and short shorts. The girls were also adorned with a lot of flashy jewelry.

The group of young women made their way to the bar and slid onto the barstools that had dark green leather cushions on them. They batted their eyelashes at Dante and leaned over the bar as they ordered their drinks, giving him a good view down their shirts.

They were obviously flirting with Dante and trying to get his attention. Joan realized. But the demon was acting almost stoic. Professional. He took the girls' orders and prepared their drinks in a flashy, skillful manner that had them 'oohing' and 'ahhing', but he completely ignored their flirtatious advances.

Joan couldn't stop the smile that curled her lips at the realization that Dante didn't see those women as well _women_. Apparently, even a demon Duke had his standards. Besides, those girls were just _lowly_ humans.

Joan also got caught up with watching Dante prepare the girls' drinks. His skilled movements as he juggled the bottle of half-empty white rum and the tin were hypnotic. Mesmerizing. He was so graceful as he passed the bottle behind his back and caught it inside of his the shaker tin. The girls clapped in response. Again, Joan wondered where Dante had learned those flair bartending techniques. Suddenly, Joan was remembering a time when she'd fought against Dante and their swords had clashed together in a deadly dance.

Dante's movements had been elegant then too - swift, deadly. Unlike any barbaric demon she'd ever faced before. At the time, she couldn't help feeling that somehow Dante was different from all the demons she'd faced before. It wasn't long after that that she'd fallen in love with him. Joan shook her head, now was not the time for such idiotic thoughts. She turned away and got back to work wiping down the tables and polishing silverware. Although, she kept her ears open and listened to the girls asking Dante funny questions. Joan just couldn't help it; she eavesdropped in order to hear Dante's responses to their random questions.

"If you could be invisible, where would you go and what would you do?" One of the girls asked.

"I'd go to Hell and steal something from Lucifer." Dante said in a joking tone but was deadly serious. Lucifer wore a pendant around his neck that contained Dante's memories from before he'd come to Hell.

The girls tittered. "Hell? Why not Heaven?" "I can take you to Heaven, big boy."

"Heaven is overrated." Dante said firmly. "Too many rules. Too many goody two-shoes. And there's no sex or alcohol, you know."

"No sex and alcohol! Who would want to go there then?" One of the girls burst out, wide-eyed.

"If you suddenly found yourself turned into a woman, how would you spend your day?" Another girl asked teasingly.

Dante thought about it before a haughty expression crossed his face. "Probably in front of a mirror, stripping my clothes off and admiring my beauty."

"Narcissist!" One of the girls accused good-naturedly. "How do you handle people you don't like?"

_Kill them._ Dante thought but said instead: "I crush them."

"Well then, tough guy, what's your deepest regret?" A girl questioned.

A frown settled over Dante's features. "I was unable to save the woman I loved."

_Crash._ Everyone's eyes turned to see that Joan had dropped her tray that also had a glass on it. She blushed as she bent over to pick up the shards of broken glass and place them carefully in her hand. _He can't be talking about me. There's no way he can be talking about me._

"What's the craziest place you've ever had sex?" One girl asked, leaned over the bar and licked her lips in expectation.

Dante smirked. "That's easy. The back of a dragon."

"A dragon!" The girl burst out laughing. "You have a very vivid imagination. That would be one hell of a bumpy ride!"

"It was." The demon assured.

"What turns you on?" Another girl asked.

"Green eyes." Dante said without missing a beat.

Joan sucked in a breath. _Green eyes?_

"What's the bravest thing you've ever done?" A girl asked.

"Fight Lu-" Dante began but was cut off.

"For me, it's coming over to talk to you." The girl batted her eyelashes at Dante.

"Are you a cat or a dog person?"

"Definitely a cat person." Dante replied.

"Can you tell if my boobs are fake or real?" One of the girls boldly asked.

Dante blinked at the woman and gazed upon her chest quizzically. "What do you mean by that? What are fake boobs?"

The girl giggled, reached out, and grabbed Dante's hands before placing them over her breasts. "My breasts are fake. Go on, give them a squeeze. Do they feel real to you?"

"They're fake?" Dante said with wonder in his voice as he gave them a squeeze. They felt...?

Before Dante could decide if the woman's fake breasts felt real or not Joan had appeared at the bar and removed Dante's hands from the woman's breasts. "Dante! You can't touch our female customers like that! That's...inappropriate behavior!" Joan scolded and her green eyes were flashing.

"I..." Dante seemed to have realized what he'd just been doing because a slight pink tinge came to his cheeks. "You're right. I don't know what I was doing. I apologize, Joan."

The girl pouted at the loss of Dante's hands on her boobs and shot Joan a glare. Joan realized she still had her hand on Dante's wrist and quickly let go as if she'd been burned. "Well, as long as you realize your mistake." Joan said through gritted teeth before she stalked off to take someone's order. _Those bimbos are getting on my nerves! Taking advantage of Dante's naïveté! Well, naïve at least when it comes to human females. Women of the twenty-first century are sly, tricksters!_

The rest of the day went by quickly and before Joan even realized it - it was midnight.

"Good work everyone." Alan yawned widely with a hand in front of his mouth. "I'm exhausted so I'm heading off to bed. Night." The pub owner said as he headed for the stairs. "Ivan if you're the last one out, don't forget to lock up."

"Will do, Boss." Ivan saluted Alan.

Dante and Joan were both getting their jackets when Ivan approached them. "Joan, can you help me finish the dishes? Jenny used to help me do them but now..." Ivan put his hands out in a helpless gesture and shrugged.

Dante's sharp, golden eyes narrowed at the German chef. "I can assist you, Ivan."

Joan gave Dante a surprised look before she frowned. "No, I can do it." The waitress said as she stepped forward. "It's just dishes. Hurry up and get your butt home, Dante." _Wherever 'home' is for the demon. I wonder. He probably doesn't go all the way back to Hell each night, right?_

Dante scowled. He didn't like the idea of leaving Joan alone with Ivan but...perhaps he was just being paranoid. Surely, after what had just happened with Jenny and Franky, Ivan wouldn't dare to try anything. _Blazes!_ Dante wished he could read Ivan's mind in that moment but he was out of demonic power.

"Shoo." Joan waved her hand at Dante. "I can handle it." She insisted upon noticing the demon's conflicted look.

"Understood. Have a good evening, Joan. Ivan." Dante nodded to each them before leaving the pub.

Ivan hid a triumphant smile behind his hand as he watched Dante leave. "Alright, follow me, Joan."

"Okay."

Ivan led Joan to the kitchen and showed her the pile of dishes that needed to be washed. After that Ivan walked off and pretended to be busy with scrubbing down the stove. Joan immediately set to work on washing the dishes. As soon as Ivan heard the water running he turned around so he could watch Joan.

Her black leather pants clung to her legs in a tantalizing manner and hugged her tight ass. Joan's breasts weren't visible but Ivan already knew she was a decent B-cup. Could have been bigger but beggars couldn't be choosers. Ivan approached Joan from behind silently, put his right hand over her mouth, and wrapped his left arm around her waist as he pulled Joan to him. This had happened in a matter of seconds.

"Mmph!" Joan's eyes went wide with surprise and she immediately struggled against his hold.

"Now that everyone's gone we can finally have some fun together, Joan." Ivan rumbled in her ear. His hot, rancid breath wafted over her ear causing her to shudder in revulsion. He was so close she could smell his sweat. The German chef licked her ear and her stomach churned.

As the initial shock of what was happening wore off Joan was instantly filled with anger. _Just who the hell does this pig think he is?_ She thought venomously before she elbowed Ivan right in his beer gut.

"Oof!" Ivan let out a pained grunt and released Joan. She quickly spun around and tried to send her knee into Ivan's crotch next.

"Ha!" Joan cried as she executed the move.

Ivan hopped back though to put some distance between them. "Whoa, kitten, has some spunk."

"Kitten?" Joan scoffed as she raised an eyebrow at the chef. "I think you've made a big mistake, bub. I'm definitely a tiger. I've taken kickboxing classes, so if you want me to kick your ass...just keep acting like an asshole." Joan challenged as she got into a fighting stance and for once she didn't care if she was swearing or not.

"Is that so, Joan Simone?" Ivan asked in a careless tone.

Joan narrowed his eyes at the chef. "Hey, how the hell do you know my last name?" As Joan asked this Ivan picked up two frying pans and held them out before him. This action caused Joan's eyes to narrow dangerously. "Frying pans? Really? That's not very sportsman like. Didn't you know you're supposed to take it easy on delicate flowers?"

"Delicate flower?" Ivan scoffed. "I know all about your sordid past, Joan Simone. You're no delicate flower. This goody two-shoes act of yours is just that - an act." That's when Ivan attacked Joan with the frying pans.

The frying pans would be too hard to try and block with her bare hands, so Joan had no choice but to block his attacks with her booted feet. Thank God she'd decided to wear her tough, four-inch high, _Nine West_ knee boots that day.

Ivan swung a pan at Joan and she raised her leg to block his attack, exhibiting impressive flexibility. "Not bad, kitten. You know it's a real shame about your injury. I heard you even won a gold medal at the Olympics. Pity you had to quit tennis and become a waitress!"

Joan's expression shifted to surprise and wariness. How the hell did Ivan know about her injury, or that she used to play tennis professionally? Had this asshole done a background check on her or something? _Creepy._

Ivan purposefully pushed back on the frying pan that Joan was blocking with her right leg. She winced. Ivan then brought the pan back and swung it again, this time aiming for Joan's right ankle.

_Bam._ Joan cried out in pain as the pan connected, and she crumpled to the floor while gripping her ankle. _Dang, that hurts!_ _He went for my old injury, that jerk!_ Dazed with pain, Joan barely noticed how Ivan was now hovering over her in a menacing manner. He reached down, grabbed the front of Joan's tank top, and ripped it open revealing her bra. The sound of ripping fabric filled the kitchen ominously.

_Rippp_.

An all too familiar sound from another life.

_Rippp_.

In that moment, a memory from Joan's past life as Jeanne d'Arc flooded her mind and consumed her.

She was locked inside of a stone tower, cold and hungry. They'd thrown her into a cell and locked the door. She stayed there for days, lonely, afraid, and feeling abandoned by everyone - her army, her King, and most of all God.

She'd refused to kill the Great Duke of Hell, Dantalion. So what? She'd sealed him to a tree hadn't she? And Archangel Michael had placed the demon into an enchanted sleep so he wasn't a threat to anyone any longer. But then...someone had apparently seen Jeanne and the demon share a kiss...and even Michael had turned against her. Even Michael had doubted in her virginity.

She shouldn't have confessed to Michael that she'd fallen in love with the demon. She should have taken that secret to the grave. Well, she supposed she would. Because of her love for a demon God had abandoned her, Michael had abandoned her, King Charles VII had abandoned her, her army had abandoned her. They thought she was a demon whore.

Why weren't her men trying to rescue her? Why wasn't her king paying her ransom? That's when the men came. Without saying anything they entered Jeanne's cell, grabbed her arms, hoisted her roughly up off the floor, and began to rip her clothes off. She'd been wearing a dress at the time.

She struggled against them but it was three against one and she didn't have her sword. A bloodcurdling scream was wrenched from her lips. She was certain these beasts were going to rape her. She'd managed to lose everyone's respect after all. Rumors about her affair with the demon Dantalion were spreading like wildfire. They ruined her dress until it was nothing but useless strips of cloth.

She was naked before these animals and she was terrified. Her thoughts were racing through he head a mile a minute. Were these men going to rape her? Like that disgusting pig of a man who'd stabbed her older sister through her stomach with a sword, pinning her body to the closet that Jeanne had been hiding in, and then fucked her dead corpse while Jeanne had been forced to watch through the cracks in the closet door.

They're going to rape me...they're going to rape me...just like they did my sister! Someone help! Someone please help. God! Michael! Dantalion!

Abruptly an outfit consisting of a pair of pants and a simple shirt was thrown at her. Jeanne could remember the men's leering, laughing faces. Without her sword in hand, she was just a weak, defenseless woman. Where was her sword? She'd gut these pigs in five seconds flat. Where was Dantalion? No, he wouldn't be coming to save her. The demon had betrayed her after all.

Jeanne picked up the pair of pants.

***

Dante was about to cross the street when suddenly a wave of human fear hit him. Horns sprouted out of the top of his head and his incisors lengthened. Such fear, such terror, but who? The demon turned, a question on his lips. "Joan?" Dante took off running at superhuman speed deciding to use the demonic power that was currently flowing through his veins.

The demon reentered the pub, entered the kitchen, and that's when he saw them. Ivan was standing over Joan and he was holding a piece of her ripped tank top in his hand. The German chef was leering down at Joan whose lacy, blue bra was now exposed.

Joan was staring up at Ivan with wide eyes full of terror, but her mind was elsewhere. She was seeing something beyond Ivan. The waitress was trembling like a leaf and in that moment the strong woman Dante had come to know suddenly looked so delicate and vulnerable that it ate something up inside of him. It stirred something inside of him that hadn't stirred since he'd fallen in love with Jeanne d'Arc. _Mine._

In the blink of an eye, Dante had his hand around Ivan's throat and after that he was throwing the chef across the kitchen into the wooden dish cabinet. The cabinet broke and plates shattered as they hit the floor.

But Dante wasn't through with Ivan just yet. The demon pounced on the fallen chef and began to punch him hard across the face again and again. Dante's fist slammed into Ivan's nose, shattering it. Blood trickled down the man's red face. Dante sent his fist into the man's jaw next and there was a cracking sound. By this time a red, menacing, pulsing aura had surrounded Dante. His golden eyes were glowing. His demonic nature, his lust for blood was overtaking him. He growled low in his throat and he punched Ivan again.

Ivan looked up at the monster that was on top of him in horror. "What are you? _Monster_."

The sound of flesh hitting flesh knocked Joan out of her stupor and she returned to her senses with a sudden gasp. It was like coming back up for air after having been submerged in the memories of her past. _Ivan!_ Joan looked up and frowned when there was no sign of the German chef. That's when she stood up on shaky legs and spotted Dante on top of Ivan while beating the crap out of him.

Ivan's face was a bloody mess, the man's nose was obviously broken, and the chef was no longer conscious. If Dante continued...the man would die. As much as she wouldn't mind that she had to stop Dante. She was a warrior for God after all. "Dante! Stop!" Joan called out firmly as she approached the demon. She was surprised to see that his horns were visible and he had a red aura flaring around him.

Dante turned to blink at her. "Joan?" He quickly turned his face away and tried to hide his horns with his hands. "Don't look at me." His voice was rough as if it'd been rubbed with sandpaper.

Joan knelt behind Dante, wrapped her arms around him from behind, and rested her cheek against his broad back. "Dante...stop. It's enough. Thank you for saving me." Joan choked out. She'd never felt so helpless and afraid...but it was the _nightmare_ and not Ivan that Dante had saved her from.

Dante flinched at Joan's touch...but her presence soothed him. His horns began to recede and his demonic aura faded.

Unwanted tears slid down Joan's face. "I was so...scared." And this was the first time she'd ever admitted how afraid she'd been in that tower when those men had come for her and had ripped her clothes off. At the time she hadn't known it was all a part of a nefarious plot to get her to wear men's clothing and had really thought they were going to rape her.

Dante tried to turn around, but Joan wouldn't let him and tightened her grip on him. "No...don't look at me." She echoed. She wasn't supposed to show weakness. Especially not to a demon - her enemy. Michael would scold her if he knew.

"I won't." Dante rumbled in his deep, whiskey-soaked voice. The demon turned and wrapped his arms protectively around Joan's trembling form. She wrapped her arms around her enemy and cried into his rock hard chest. "You don't have to act so tough all the time. You can lean on me. You can depend on me, Joan." Dante whispered in her ear. He didn't know why he was saying these things to this female but he meant every word.

Joan wasn't sure how many minutes passed but this was how Alan found the two of them. "What's going on in here? I heard a crash. Joan! Dante! Are you guys alright?" Alan rushed to their sides as soon as he spotted them. He looked over at Ivan's battered form and noted the blood that covered the chef's face. "What happened?"

Dante looked up and met Alan's eyes with an apologetic, almost guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry, Boss. I know you said I was supposed to handle things nonviolently but Ivan tried to...take advantage of Joan. I just..." Dante trailed off. He was confused about the way he'd reacted to Joan being in danger and didn't really know how to explain himself or his actions.

"Snapped?" Alan suggested helpfully and let out a sigh. "It's okay, Dante. There's always an exception to that rule like when you're protecting those you care about. Sometimes you have no choice but to be violent. Although I would still prefer it if you did _not_ resort to violence, Dante. But I forgive you this time."

"Understood, Boss. I'm sorry." Dante apologized again.

Dante's sudden humility greatly surprised Joan. She just couldn't believe this was the same prideful demon she'd known more than five hundred years ago.

Alan rubbed his temples. "Looks like I'm going to be firing my chef too." The young pub owner sunk to his knees as all his strength seemed to leave him and he put his face in his hand. "Ah, this sucks. What am I going to do without a chef?" He moaned.

"I might know a chef." Dante spoke up. "In fact, I may know of a few people that might be able to help you, Boss."

Alan looked up and gave Dante a hopeful look. "Really? That would be great. Why don't you bring them in tomorrow morning so I can meet interview them."

Dante nodded. "Certainly, Boss."

Joan couldn't believe what she was doing. She was actually crying into her enemy's chest and hugging him. Hugging a _demon_. Michael would so kill her if he could see her now! Joan quickly pulled away from Dante and stood up. She couldn't meet his eyes. "Ah, I'm just going to go home." Joan murmured as she began to stalk off.

Dante stood up quickly and was at Joan's side in an instant. "Wait."

Joan still wouldn't turn to look at Dante but she felt the weight of a jacket being put over her shoulders. "Uh...thanks, Dante. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Joan quickly took off running.

"Stay safe." Dante frowned as he watched Joan go and wondered if he should follow her. But even the feeling to do so confused the demon.

Alan was hiding a grin behind his hand. If he didn't know any better he'd say that Dante and Joan were falling for each other.

***

Joan slipped her arms through Dante's jacket and buttoned it up. On her way out of the pub she grabbed her leather jacket from the hook by the door before exiting and making her way over to her Volvo. She fumbled with her key, opened her car door, and got in behind the wheel. Joan closed the door, started the engine, and turned the heat up on high.

She gripped the steering wheel and took deep, calming breaths. Joan still couldn't believe what had just happened back there. Dante had actually saved her - an inferior, lowly human. But why? Joan's heart pitter-pattered at the question. Dante had claimed to be in love with her once...but that was more than five hundred years ago. And Dante didn't even know who she really was. He didn't know that she was the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc.

Joan looked nothing like her former self. Jeanne had been taller, curvier, with platinum blonde hair. Only her eyes were relatively the same - a pale green color. Like peridot. She put her hands over her breasts and sighed. She wished her breasts were as big as they used to be. No such luck. Joan pulled out of her parking spot and headed back to her apartment, her _lonely_ apartment.

***

Joan turned the key in her apartment door's lock and opened the door. "Honey, I'm home!" She called out, jokingly.

"It's about time! Welcome back." Came a chiding voice as Michael ran into the room. He sounded mad but his wagging tail kind of gave it away that he was actually happy to see her. "Where have you been? It's already one o five!"

"Washing dishes." Joan explained offhandedly as she took off her black leather jacket and hung it on the rack. That left her in only the jacket that Dante had given her and her bra.

Michael raised an eyebrow at what Joan was wearing. "Where's the tank top you were wearing?"

"Oh, uh..." Joan hesitated for a moment before she came up with a lie. "I spilled something on it and a coworker lent me his jacket. I'll return it to him tomorrow." She hastily lied.

"Him?" Michael narrowed his golden-brown eyes at Joan. "I see. Well...your Demon Detector has been going crazy! It's on the bed. You're going to be in for a lot of work tonight. I hope you're up for it."

_Killing lesser demons?_ "Oh, I'm up for it alright." Joan said as she walked into her bedroom and saw the flashing, silver cross on her bed. She picked it up and clasped it around her neck. Joan summoned her magical power. "Transform...Jeanne d'Arc!"

Joan transformed and shinning, golden armor appeared on her body that fit her like a glove. After that her sword appeared in her hand - a long, double-edged, medieval sword that looked like it had been forged out of solid gold, but was in fact made out of a indestructible, heavenly metal.

Michael entered Joan's bedroom and transformed also. Two enormous, white wings emerged from the golden retriever's back. Joan strode over to the windowed doors that led to her balcony and threw them open. Michael went out onto the balcony first, and now that he had enough room his size increased until he was six hundred pounds.

Joan stepped out onto the balcony, mounted Michael, and with a flap of his wings they took off into the sky. They would fly around New York City while invisible and kill the equally invisible lesser demons that were roaming around the city searching for hosts. The best hosts were atheists, people that had gaps inside of their hearts that could only be filled with God or a vicious, self-serving demon.

If the lesser demon had already possessed someone then she would exorcise that person. She saved people who she didn't even know and would probably never see again. She'd never gotten so much as a 'thank you' for all of her hard work. But...she was Jeanne d'Arc - God's sword upon the Earth and had to do his bidding. Once again. It was a bittersweet duty.

Jeanne d'Arc was what most people would call a 'witch' with her supernatural magical powers and ability to transform into a being that could not be seen by the human eye unless she willed it. That was ironic since most witchcraft was associated with the Devil. But like Jesus, God allowed Joan to be one of the exceptions to the rule.

Ever since Michael had revealed that he could talk and had awakened her past memories - her destiny had been changed. Her life was no longer her own. It belonged to God. She was no longer 'normal' or 'free'. She wondered if she would die for one of God's causes once again. Or would she perhaps die fighting Dante? _That might not be such a bad way to go._ _At least I wouldn't be alone like the last time._ She thought, remembering how it felt to be wrapped up in his arms.

Being killed by a handsome, stoic demon. It would be better than being burned alive. Joan shuddered at the remembrance. That had been horrible! Joan ran her sword through another lesser demon that cried out, exploded, and disintegrated into nothingness.

This was how she normally was - strong, powerful, and undefeatable. And yet earlier she'd been crying onto her enemy's chest! She couldn't forgive herself for it. _Pull yourself together Joan! You're not supposed to depend on anyone. You only have yourself. You're all alone in this world, again._

No one will even know if one night a demon kills me. I'll just disappear from everyone's memories as if I were never here. No one will mourn my passing. No one really loves me...my parents don't even talk to me anymore after what happened.

I failed to protect my older sister again even in this life. But this time it was drugs that killed her and not some pervert, so perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. I'm always alone with no one to depend on but myself. I always having to put on a strong face - a mask that I'm okay. No one understands me...

' _You don't have to act so tough all the time. You can lean on me.'_ Dante had whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending tingles down her traitorous spine. His breath had smelled like a fruity cocktail he must have sampled earlier. Ironically, he'd said those same words more than five hundred years ago to Jeanne d'Arc. _That idiot...saying things like that. There's no way I'll ever believe it. I'm Joan of Arc. I won't depend on anyone!_

Five hundred and eighty-four years ago, Dante had claimed to have the need to wear a mask too. A mask that he was content as a Great Duke of Hell and commander of thirty-six legions. Joan remembered how Dante used to be plagued by the fact that some of his memories were missing. He didn't know if he was a fallen angel or a damned human. Joan realized that she was still curious about this too.

***

The following morning, Joan's alarm clock went off and she whacked it right off her nightstand, sending the poor thing flying across the room. She put her hand over her eyes to block out the sunlight that was trickling through her bedroom curtains. It was seven o'clock and Joan needed to be at _Dullahan's_ by eight. She showered and brushed her teeth in record time. After that she picked out a pair of brown leather pants, a pair of cowboy boots, and a cow print belt. Alan had given her a new tank top yesterday but Joan hadn't seen it yet. She opened the plastic bag and pulled out the tank top. She gasped.

The tank top was black and had the drawing of a headless horsewoman riding a black horse with glowing red eyes on it. The horse had been outlined in white so that it stood out against the black material. The dullahan was wearing a low-cut, emerald green, velvet gown and a lot of her pale skin was visible. There were freckles on her chest. Her right hand was holding the reins and her left hand was holding her severed head.

The head's eyes were closed so Joan was unable to see the woman's eye color, but she had beautiful strawberry blonde almost pink hair, and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. The pub's name: _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ was on the t-shirt in swirly white letters this time. Joan loved the new t-shirt and couldn't wait to tell Alan so. She wondered whom Alan had hired to design the new logo.

Joan put the tank top on and gazed at her appearance in her full-length mirror. She looked fun and stylish. Or at least she thought so. Joan spent a little more time on her appearance than usual, styling her short bob of brown hair so that it framed her face just right, and deciding to put a pink lip-gloss on her lips.

Michael noticed Joan's pensive expression as she spread the pink lip-gloss across her lower lip. "What are you doing?" The Archangel asked and his tone was almost accusatory.

Joan flinched guiltily and looked over at Michael. "Huh?"

"You look like you're getting dolled up for someone. Is one of your new coworkers a handsome man?" Michael asked and tried to appear nonchalant.

Joan frowned at her guardian. "What? That's crazy. I can assure you there's no handsome young man." _Because he's a demon._ "And besides, even if there _were_ it would be none of your business Michael! My private life is my own!"

Michael's golden-brown eyes flashed with anger and hurt, "I've already been pretty accommodating with your schedule. We only hunt the lesser demons at night when we should be doing it full time. This city is in danger and it's _your_ responsibility to save it."

Joan spun around to glare at Michael. "I didn't choose this! You chose me! I just wanted to live a _normal_ life! I just want to be a normal girl my age with a job, a car, an apartment, bills and a boyfriend!"

"But you're _not_ a normal girl. You're the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc!" Michael reminded sharply.

"That was my past self...that's not _me."_ Joan waved her hand through the air. "I'm Joan Simone now." She placed her hand on her chest. "I'm not some perfect little warrior for God."

"You're wrong, Joan. Your soul is the same. And don't forget your past self was far from perfect. You fell in love with a demon, remember? That's why God was forced to forsake you in the end. But with this new life he's giving you a second chance to redeem yourself, Joan. In this life you won't make the same mistake."

Dante's handsome visage flashed through her mind. _Ha. I may make the same mistake after all. God, I'm so messed up. What the hell does Michael think he knows about me?_ "How the hell can you be so sure?" She snapped.

Michael gave Joan a poignant look. "Because I believe in you, Joan."

Joan stared into her guardian angel's eyes and sighed. She felt like a total bitch. Michael was just looking out for her, right? It made her feel guilty. The stress was really getting to her lately. Joan rubbed her temples and gave Michael an apologetic look. "Look...I'm sorry, Michael. I've been really stressed out lately and I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

"You are forgiven." Michael said and nodded his head.

Joan was surprised that Michael had forgiven her so easily and gave her guardian angel a grateful look. "Thanks." Joan stalked out of her bedroom and made her way into her kitchen. She began to fill a plastic bag with canned food. Usually at least once a week she'd stop by Central Park and give the canned food to the homeless people there.

Especially during the fall and winter seasons, which were the hardest on the homeless people. Joan grabbed her jacket and keys before leaving her apartment without looking back. She made her way to her parked Volvo and got inside. She began to drive to Central Park. She parked once she arrived and got out of the car. It was freezing out. During the winter hundreds of homeless people usually died on the streets of New York City.

Joan began her walk through Central Park and headed to the area where most of the homeless people had set up homes made out of cardboard and tents. But once she reached the area she realized that the homes were no longer there. Joan dropped her bag of canned food on the ground and her jaw dropped. "What the? Where did everyone go?" There was a sinking feeling in Joan's stomach at the sight. Had the government relocated them? They hadn't been killed, right? The government wouldn't do something like that, right? _No way. I'm overreacting. I'm sure they're alright._ There had been several homeless kids and adolescents too that Joan was worried about in particular.

Joan had a soft spot for the homeless due to her experience with being kicked out of her own house once. During high school, Joan had started an all-female gang. They didn't do much, just cut class, play pranks on their fellow students and on the teachers, and challenge other gangs to fights before kicking their asses.

But when Joan discovered her sister Cathy dead in her apartment from an overdose of cocaine, she'd tracked the gang responsible for selling her sister the drug down. After that Joan proceeded to beat the shit out of everyone at the hideout. Unfortunately, a drug bust happened at the exact same time. Joan was arrested and charged with assault and battery. She'd put several of the drug dealers into the hospital and she'd put the gang's leader into a coma. Joan had also freaked out when the cops arrived and had resisted arrest.

Joan had been a teenager at the time and she hadn't realized just how stupid that had been. She'd been tossed into a cell at the station and waited for her parents to pay her bail. But they never did. She'd been forced to sit in that cell for five days, locked up, helpless and alone - an awful feeling. Until finally a detective was assigned to Joan's case and she was let go.

Joan's family had been so disappointed in her that they'd kicked her out of the house and she'd ended up on the streets. She would never forget the feeling of being kicked out of her own home, of feeling so alone, so helpless with no place to go and no money. It was the worst feeling in the world.

Those few days she'd been alone on the streets - cold and hungry - were days Joan would never forget. Detective Diana Dekker was in charge of Joan's case and had tracked the young woman down, only to find her living on the streets. Diana took Joan into her own home temporarily, and helped Joan to get back on her feet.

It was Diana who had suggested to Joan that she channel her pent-up aggression into sports - mainly tennis. This is how Joan ended up becoming a professional tennis player, participated in various tournaments, the Olympics, and had even managed to earn herself a Golden Grand Slam.

"Where did they all go? Was it a demon?" Joan wished she'd brought her cross with her so that she could transform into Jeanne d'Arc. In that form she would have been able to see if there was any residual demonic energy that had been left behind by a demon attack. She could see most lesser demons and ghosts without her cross, but she couldn't really do anything about them without the supernatural power that her cross gave her.

Joan had no choice but to pick up the bag of canned food and return to her car. In a somber daze, Joan drove to _Dullahan's_. She entered the pub and the tiny, golden bell above the front door jingled. She put her jacket on a hook by the door, brought the bag of canned food over to a booth, and set it down on the table. She didn't know why she'd brought the bag of canned food with her.

That's when the scent of breakfast hit her nose reminding her that she'd left her apartment that morning without having anything for breakfast. The scent of scrambled eggs, French toast, and sautéing vegetables slammed into her nose, making her mouth water.

"Joan, good morning!" Came Alan's upbeat voice.

Joan turned to see Alan seated at one of the booths with a placemat, fork and knife in front of him. "Oh, good morning, Boss." Joan greeted as she approached Alan.

"Take a seat, Joan." Alan waved a hand towards the seat in front of him. "Dante brought the chef and his wife, who's a good housekeeper, in this morning. The chef is cooking me breakfast right now in order to show me his skills. You can help taste test too."

Joan took a seat in the booth directly across from Alan. "Dante did?" She looked over at the bar but Dante wasn't there. "Where is he?"

"Oh, I think he's in the kitchen with his friends," Alan said offhandedly.

"Friends?" Joan raised an eyebrow at Alan. _A demon doesn't have friends._

At that moment the door to the kitchen opened and a plump, middle-aged woman emerged. She was carrying a tray with a pitcher of orange juice and two glasses on it. "Alan I brought you some fresh-squeezed orange juice for you to try. I hope you like it." The woman said as she set a glass down in front of Alan and began to pour the juice into it. Joan took a closer look at the woman. She had salt and pepper hair that was tied into a tight bun, and was wearing a pretty, dark purple dress. Over the dress she was wearing a frilly white apron. The woman looked oddly familiar.

"Thanks Hilda." Alan offered the woman a warm smile.

_Hilda?_ Joan blinked at the woman and her eyes widened dramatically when she suddenly recognized her. _Hilda! No way._

"Would you like some juice, dear?" Hilda asked Joan kindly.

"Oh..." Joan looked up and met Hilda's eyes.

Hilda looked at Joan, blinked, and then her own eyes widened in response. "Eh? Joan?"

"Hilda, right?" Joan asked tentatively.

Hilda nodded, looking nervous suddenly. Alan looked back and forth between Joan and Hilda with a curious look on his face. "You two know each other?"

"Er, well, we've met..." Joan began hesitantly.

"In the park." Hilda quickly put in.

Joan nodded. "Yea, we've met in Central Park when I was walking my dog Michael." _Safe._

Hilda smiled as she remembered Joan's beautiful golden retriever. "How is your dog? Still enormous?"

Joan laughed. "Yea. How's...Fred?"

"Oh! He's...here actually." Hilda clutched her hands in front of her out of nervousness.

"Here?"

"Didn't I mention to you how Fred used to own his own restaurant?" Hilda asked.

Joan furrowed her brow as she tried to remember some of the conversations that she'd had with Hilda back at Central Park. That's when she did indeed remember Hilda having mentioned something like that. "Right...must have slipped my mind. Wow. Well, I hope Alan likes his food. Good luck, Hilda." Joan crossed her fingers under the table. _I hope Fred gets the job. That would be great for them._

"Thanks, hun. I'll get you a placemat and some silverware. I want you to try my hubby's cooking too." Hilda said before she walked off.

"Okay." Joan's mind was spinning. It was strange for a waitress to be waited on. What the hell was going on? Hilda and Fred were homeless...right? But here they were... _pretending_ to be friends with Dante _. What. The. Hell._

Hilda returned minutes later with a placemat and silverware, which she set down in front of Joan. Joan chewed on her lower lip. She had questions for Hilda but she decided that it would be more prudent to speak to Hilda when Alan wasn't around.

After that Hilda returned to the kitchen and a few minutes later she returned with a tray and two plates heaped high with different kinds of food: scrambled eggs, French toast, and an array of sliced fresh fruit. Hilda set the plates down in front of Alan and Joan and smiled. "Bon appetit! Enjoy."

"Thanks, Hilda." Joan couldn't help but think that it was ironic to receive food from someone she used to give food to.

"Thank you, Hilda." Alan echoed before picking up his fork and knife. He gave the food before him an admiring look. "This looks great! Ivan only ever cooked sausage for breakfast! Let's dig in, Joan."

"Right." Joan readily agreed.

Alan and Joan began to sample the different kinds of food that were available on their plates one after the other. "Mmm." Joan moaned as she ate a bite of the French toast. "Delicious."

Alan sampled some of the scrambled eggs and vegetables, and made a similar sound of pleasure. "Yea, this is really good. And the presentation was very professional."

"Yea, it was." Joan agreed, maybe Hilda really had been telling the truth when she said her husband used to own his own restaurant. But then he'd been sent over seas to Afghanistan and he'd lost his arm. After that he'd been unable to cook and had lost his restaurant. Apparently, Fred must have learned how to cook one-handed. That just showed that when one has the will - there is always a way.

Joan and Alan finished their breakfast, and afterwards Fred and Dante exited from the kitchen. Fred was wearing a very professional chef outfit consisting of a floor-length, white jacket, and was even wearing one of those tall chef hats with the fluffy top. Fred looked clean, smooth-shaven, well dressed and very professional. His left hand was still missing and ended in a hook. Joan was surprised that Alan made no comment about it, but just accepted it. She liked that about Alan. He was the opposite of judgmental, and accepted people for who they were and not what they looked like.

Dante was dressed in his bartending uniform minus the jacket Joan still had to give back to him. He looked as slick and presentable as always. Joan's heart began to beat a little faster at the sight of the handsome demon and she shook her head to try and clear it of such thoughts. As Fred and Dante approached the booth, the demon caught Joan's eye. "Good morning, Joan."

"Er, morning." Joan said awkwardly, hoping that the demon hadn't caught her staring at him.

Hilda looked back and forth between Dante and Joan, and smiled knowingly.

"So Mr. Dullahan what did you think of my Continental Breakfast?" Fred asked with his hands behind his back, back straight, and an expectant, eager look on his face.

"Well..." Alan paused dramatically before smiling widely at Fred. "It was delicious! You're hired!"

Fred's jaw dropped. "Huh...just like that? Don't you need to see my resume first?"

Alan waved his hand through the air dismissively, "If you want but...I was looking for a good chef and I believe I've found him. Whoever gets this job will get it based on talent - nothing else. And if I understand correctly your wife likes to clean?"

Hilda stepped forward and nodded. "That's right. I can clean the bathrooms, sweep, mop, polish the tables and silverware, and clean the windows. That way Joan can concentrate on taking orders and helping the customers. If you don't mind my saying."

Alan nodded. "We are a bit understaffed at the moment. I think that would be a good idea. Consider yourself hired as well, Hilda. I'll work on a uniform for you tonight."

Hilda gave Alan a curious look. "You will?"

Alan reddened. "Uh, yea, I actually enjoy making clothes." He shyly admitted. "All of the t-shirts and tank tops I have for sale here...have been made by me."

"You mean you made this new tank top?" Joan asked as she tugged on the bottom of her tank top. "Did you draw the new logo of the headless horsewoman too?"

Alan nodded.

"That's amazing, Alan. You're a very good artist. I love the new logo." Joan complimented.

Alan let out a breath of relief. "Oh no...it's nothing really."

Joan reached across the table and whacked Alan on the shoulder. "So modest! She looks so...alive. Despite the fact that she's headless, of course." Alan rubbed his now aching shoulder as Joan continued. "You're really talented. Why didn't you say something before?"

A dark cloud settled over Alan's features. "Because...my brother George always told me that liking to make clothes was _wrong_ for a boy. That it would make me gay. Not that there's anything wrong with being gay, but I do like girls despite my interest in girlie hobbies like sewing and cooking."

Joan frowned. "Stereotypes. Pfft. Liking to make clothes doesn't make you any less of a man, Alan. It just makes you _talented._ I don't understand why people have such a hard time just accepting people the way they are. Everyone has his or her positive attributes and talents. Everyone is different. It's better to be an individual than a sheep anyways, following the status quo. The world would be boring if everyone were the same. You're amazing just the way you are, Boss. So don't change!" Joan insisted, and her green eyes were shinning with certainty.

Alan was bright red at this point. "Er, uh, thank you, Joan." He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Anyways, now we have a new chef, a housekeeper, a waitress and a bartender. We'll probably need to get at least one more waitress though."

"Maybe I could convince my friend Kim to work here part-time or something," Joan suggested.

Alan's eyes bulged. "K-K-Kim? You mean your amazingly hot model friend!"

Joan raised an eyebrow at Alan's outburst. "Yes. Kim. My amazingly hot model friend." She repeated dryly.

"Did I just say that out loud?" Alan paled and put his face in his hand out of embarrassment.

"Yep." A cat's paw smile formed on Joan's lips. "So you have a crush on my friend Kim? Aw, that's so cute. I should talk to her for you..."

"No!" Alan grabbed onto Joan's arms and gave her a beseeching look. "Then she probably wouldn't want to work here."

Joan frowned and ruffled Alan's head. "Why not? You really should have more confidence in yourself, Alan. You're a good-looking guy."

"Uh...thanks Joan." He only wished it were that easy. Before he got into fashion Alan had been a total nerd. He'd walked around with oily hair, thick glasses, and stained t-shirts. He'd sit in front of the computer for hours and play MMORPGs (Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games). After that he got into sewing and designing clothes, and had changed his entire look.

Though he looked more handsome now, he was still a nerd on the inside. Also, anytime he told girls about his hobby of making clothes they automatically assumed he was gay and put him in the friend zone. He wondered what Kim would think about his girlie hobby and sighed. "Ahem. Dante...what about you? Do you think we need to hire another bartender?"

Dante raised a perfect black eyebrow at Alan. "Indeed, I do not. I should be able to handle things on my own, Boss. You just leave it to me."

Alan gave Dante a skeptical look. "It _can_ get pretty busy every once in a while but...I guess I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. You'll have to prove yourself to me, Dante." The pub owner said in a teasing tone.

A twinkle formed in Dante's golden eyes and he bowed. "I accept that challenge, Boss."

In this manner another day at _Dullahan's Irish Pub_ had begun. But now the pub had the talented chef, Fred, to do the cooking, and his wife, Hilda, who helped with the cleaning, so the day went much more smoothly.

Fred made some potato skins, set them on a tray, and asked Joan if she'd mind handing out a few samples outside during lunch. Joan didn't mind, and so grabbed her jacket before going outside. She began to pass out potato skins and they must have been really good because _Dullahan's_ became packed for lunch.

Dante even seemed to have his hands full at the bar with almost every seat at the long bar filled. His patrons had asked him to make one strong drink that would get them wasted. He decided to make several AMFs (Adios Motherfuckers). This drink packed a real punch and he figured that was what these patrons were looking for. Dante had five highball glasses filled with ice set out before him on the bar. He picked up a bottle of Absolut vodka and flipped the bottle into the air, caught the bottle by its neck and poured a half an ounce of vodka into each glass.

Dante grabbed a bottle of white rum next, flipped the bottle into the air, caught it by the bottle's neck and holding the bottle upside down poured a half an ounce of rum into each glass. After that Dante grabbed the bottle of tequila and the bottle of gin at the same time, flipped the bottles into the air simultaneously, caught them by their necks, and poured half an ounce of each liquor into each of the glasses.

Dante added two ounces of sweet and sour mix to each glass before lastly grabbing the bottle of Blue Curacao liqueur. He flipped the bottle high into the air, causing those watching to 'ooh' and 'ahh' before he caught the bottle by its neck, held it upside down, and added half an ounce to all of the glasses. He topped the drinks with 7-up and stirred gently. The drinks ended up turning out a neat electric blue color. Even though Dante was having to make multiple drinks at once it didn't seem to faze him one bit and everyone in the pub became mesmerized by Dante's flair bartending techniques.

_Showoff._ Joan thought as she watched Dante flipping and catching the bottles of liquor to then pour the liquor into the glasses one by one. Already Dante didn't even need to measure the amounts of liquor, but knew when he'd reached a half an ounce, or an ounce within the glasses. Dante's performance reminded Joan of Tom Cruise's flip to pour bottle trick that had made him rather famous in the movie _Cocktail_. The patrons had begun to cheer Dante on. "Whoo!" "Woo woo woo!" "Go Dante!"

Alan had been helping Fred out in the kitchen, when he walked out to see Dante skillfully making ten drinks at once, and his jaw dropped. Joan giggled at her boss' reaction. Alan had no idea he'd hired a demon bartender. Of course Dante was skilled and fast. Super fast. Joan wondered if it was a little suspicious just how good Dante was, but shrugged it off. Watching Dante mix tropical cocktails was much too fun to watch to tell him to 'slow down'. Joan didn't even realize she was staring until a voice cut into her thoughts.

"He's very handsome isn't he?" Hilda piped up, while standing next to Joan.

Joan jumped and turned to face Hilda with a pink tinge to her cheeks. "What? No way."

Hilda raised an eyebrow at Joan's evasive response. Joan decided to wisely change the subject and lowered her voice. "Hilda...how do you and Fred know Dante anyways?"

Hilda smiled ruefully. "He's our landlord now. In fact, Dante saved everyone that was living at the park. He owns an apartment building and he's letting us all stay there for a dollar a month. He lives there too actually."

"What?" Joan asked, feeling dizzy. She just couldn't believe what she was hearing. Dante owned an apartment building and had decided to rent rooms to homeless people? That just didn't make any sense. Dante _helping_ homeless people? But...why? Joan wondered frantically. _He's not planning on using them as human sacrifices for something is he? Crap, I don't trust him at all._

"You have to come and visit us sometime, sweetie," Hilda said to Joan in a friendly manner as she quickly scribbled the address of the building and the number of the apartment Hilda and Fred were now living in on a napkin and gave it to Joan. "I don't know what we all would have done this winter but...Dante saved us."

Joan took the napkin and looked down at the address. "Yea...I will." _Perhaps sooner than you think._ She put the napkin into her pocket. Joan needed to investigate just what Dante was up to.

The workday went by quickly until midnight rolled around and Alan said they could all go home. Joan left the pub and made her way over to her Volvo. She got inside and waited for ten minutes. She wanted to give Dante a good head start so that he would arrive at the apartment building first and hopefully wouldn't notice that Joan had followed him.

After ten minutes had passed, Joan started the engine and drove off down the street heading for Dante's apartment building. The building was in a bad part of town in South Bronx. Joan parked her Volvo a block away and got out of the car. A cold wind hit her and she clutched her jacket more tightly around herself as she approached the building. The building was oddly familiar for some reason.

That's when she recognized it. This was the building that was supposedly 'haunted' but someone must have exorcised the evil spirits before she'd gotten here. _No way...Dante did this? He exorcised the evil spirits, purchased this building, and is letting homeless people live here? Why?_ Her mind was spinning.

Joan picked the front door lock and let herself inside. She rode the elevator to the top floor. The elevator door opened and she stepped outside into the hallway. Joan couldn't feel any negative energy as she walked down the hall. The place looked 'normal' enough so far.

Joan reached Hilda and Fred's apartment number 701. It was half past twelve at night. Suddenly, Joan wondered what the hell she was even doing there. What had she expected to find? Magic circles written in blood on the floor or walls? Sacrificial altars? Human heads on pikes? Piles of bones? This wasn't Hell.

Joan knew that realistically all she could do was continue to keep a close eye on Dante, and if anything happened to the people living here - there would be hell to pay. At that moment Joan's cell phone rang. "Crap." Joan quickly fished out her smart phone and swiped the screen to answer the call. She put her phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

" _Hello Joan,_ " Came a familiar, rough voice.

Joan's eyes widened and there was this sinking feeling in her stomach. "Franky! What the hell do you want? And how did you even get this number?"

" _Alan gave it to me._ "

"Alan?"

" _He's right here with me, actually._ "

"What? Put him on the phone." Joan demanded, as her hand began to tremble. She had a bad feeling about this.

" _Sure thing, babe._ " Franky agreed.

" _Hello? Joan?_ " Came Alan's tremulous voice.

"Alan?"

"Don't do anything they tell you to do, Joan! Stay away!" Alan warned before the phone was probably taken away from him since Joan could no longer hear his voice.

"Alan? Alan!" Joan exclaimed frantically. "Crap."

Franky's dark chuckle came over the line next. " _Now you know I have him._ "

"What the hell do you want Franky?" Joan snarled.

" _What I want is all the money that's in the safe at Dullahan's in exchange for Alan's life. The combination to the safe is 3546. Meet me at the abandoned multi-story building near Bruckner Boulevard and East 137th Street in one hour. Don't be late, and come alone or else Alan pays the price."_

"What? You can't be serious, Franky. You let Alan go or else I-!" Joan threatened.

_Click._ Franky had hung up on Joan. "He actually hung up on me!" Joan ground her teeth together. "That jerk. How dare he? Crap, there's no way I'm going to give that jerk Alan's money!" She quickly dialed another telephone number.

" _Dekker_." Came a female voice over the phone.

"Hello, Detective Dekker, it's Joan. I need your help."

***

Joan parked her Volvo a block away from the meeting spot. The address was for an apartment building that looked completely abandoned. It was kind of creepy with its broken windows that were just empty, black holes. The paint and plaster on the exterior of the building was peeling away. Poor Alan was somewhere inside of that creepy building. Joan realized. He was probably scared to death. Alan hated scary stuff and actually cried during horror films. Joan saw Alan like a kind of younger brother, and he brought out her usually nonexistent maternal instincts.

There was just something about the adorable young man that just made her want to protect him. Joan got out of her car and put her purse strap over her head. Inside her purse she had mace and her favorite weapon of choice - her billy club. During high school when she'd been the leader of an all-female gang that had challenged other high school gangs to street fights - she'd won many 'battles' with the help of her trusty billy club. She'd wanted to prove to all the guys out there that women shouldn't be underestimated.

Joan grabbed a backpack that she would tell Franky contained the money he'd asked for, but that really was just stuffed with some old gym clothes Joan had in the car. Joan's plan was simple. She was going to go in there, find Alan, beat the crap out of Franky, and get Alan the hell out of there. Joan approached the building. The front door was broken and she kicked it the rest of the way open. Her phone rang.

" _Apartment number 202_." Franky said to her before he hung up on her again.

Joan frowned down at her dead phone. She took the stairs up to the second floor since the elevator was out of order. Joan made her way cautiously down the hall and stopped in front of apartment number 202.

The door looked old and weak. Joan decided to just kick it in with her good leg. _Bam._ The door swung open and Joan made her way inside. There in the center of the room was Alan. He was tied to a chair, and had duct tape over his mouth. His face was covered in bruises. Joan's blood began to boil at the sad sight. How dare Franky beat up kind, sweet Alan. _Oh, he's gonna pay._

Alan's head had been hanging dejectedly against his chest but he looked up when he heard the door get kicked open. Alan's eyes widened like saucers when he saw Joan enter the apartment. "Mmph!" The young man immediately began to struggle against his bonds and the message in his eyes was clear: 'get the hell out of here!'

"Joan." Came a familiar baritone voice.

Joan spun and saw Franky coming out of the bathroom and zipping up his fly in a crude manner. The sound of a toilet flushing could be heard. "You really did come alone. You're pretty brave." Franky complimented as his eyes fell upon the backpack Joan was carrying. "And you're smart too. I see you've brought the money."

Joan nodded. "That's right. Now, let Alan go and I'll give you the money."

Franky reached his hand out towards Joan. "Give me the money first."

"No." Joan shook her head and took a step back. "Release Alan first and then I'll give you the money." She insisted firmly.

Franky popped his jaw in irritation. "I don't think you understand the situation, Joan. _I'm_ the one making the rules around here. And I'm getting fucking impatient." Franky snarled as he reached behind him and grabbed a semi-automatic, which he'd had stuck between the back of his pants and his lower back. He pointed the gun at Joan. "The money. Now."

"A gun." Joan was floored by this development and gave Franky a startled look. _Oh crap! I totally underestimated this jerk!_

"I ain't getting any younger over here, Joan." Franky took the safety off and put his finger on the trigger.

"Everybody freeze!" Came a commanding female voice from the doorway.

"What the fuck?" Franky turned to see that an African-American woman was standing in the doorway with her gun pointed at Franky. His eyes raked over her curvy figure, and took in her white tank top, black blazer, tight jeans, and black knee boots that she was wearing. Detective Diana Dekker's long, black hair was currently pulled back into a smart ponytail. Franky's eyes lingered on the badge that was visible and attached to her belt. "A cop? Fuck." Franky mused aloud and his eyes narrowed at Joan dangerously. "I thought I told you to come alone, bitch!"

"I don't take orders from jerks like you." Joan shot back.

"Drop your weapon!" Detective Diana said to Franky, "You're under arrest!"

Franky threw his head back and laughed. "I'm under arrest? I don't think so. Jenny!"

The bedroom door burst open and Jenny emerged with a gun in her hand.

"Jenny!" Joan exclaimed in surprise. After what had happened at _Dullahan's_ she hadn't expected the couple to still be together.

"Hi Joan." Jenny greeted with a smile on her heavily made up face. "Who's the cop? Your parole officer? Ha. It was dumb to bring her here. Now we're going to have to get rid of her too." Her red-painted lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Don't you dare." Joan warned. However-

_Bang!_ A shot split through the apartment. Diana cried out as she was hit in the shoulder and fell back to the floor where she remained unmoving.

"Mmph!" Alan struggled against his bonds again, a frantic look on his face. He'd just seen someone get shot for his sake and he didn't like it one bit.

Everything was going to hell in a hand basket. Jenny had just shot Diana - Joan's trump card and now she didn't know what to do. "Diana! No!" Joan cried out in despair. "Crap! You witch!"

Jenny raised an eyebrow at Joan. "Witch? I bet what you really wanted to say was 'bitch'. Still pretending you're a Saint and can't swear, Joan? No one's buying it."

"Hurry up and toss me the bag of money, Joan." Franky was at his wits' end. "Or do you want the next bullet to be put in Alan's brain?"

"Mmph!" Alan renewed his struggles in his chair causing the chair to rock back and forth.

"Be still!" Franky snarled as he punched Alan hard across the face and knocked him out cold.

Joan watched as Alan's head slumped against his chest and angry fires blazed in Joan's green eyes. "You jerk!" _Dang it. If only I had my cross with me I could have transformed into Jeanne d'Arc and taken these jerks out in five seconds flat! What am I going to do? I'm in way over my head here._ _What was I thinking that I could handle this on my own? Without my powers? And because of me Diana is...!_ Bile rose up in Joan's throat. No, she refused to believe that Diana was dead.

"Why do I keep getting ignored, dammit!" Franky roared as he began to pull down on the trigger. "You know what? I don't fucking care anymore! I'm going to kill you and then Alan, and get the fuck out of here already! Goodbye Joan."

"No, wait-!" Joan put her hands up in a surrendering gesture and tried to look harmless. But it was already too late.

_Bang!_ Joan shut her eyes.

That's when Joan felt strong arms wrapping around her and spinning her around. _What the?_ Joan looked up and her eyes widened when she saw Dante. He'd wrapped his arms around her and put his back to Franky to shield her from the attack. He'd taken a bullet for her. Unreal.

Horns had sprouted out of his head and a fierce, red aura was flaring around Dante. "Close your eyes." Dante rumbled in his deep voice.

_Too late. I already know you're an evil demon._ Joan wanted to say, but kept her mouth shut and nodded instead.

***

One hour earlier...

Dante heard Joan outside of his apartment door and heard her take a phone call. With his keen hearing he'd been able to hear what Franky had been saying over the phone. And he heard Alan's terrified voice too. After that Dante had eavesdropped on Joan's conversation with a female police detective named Detective Diana Dekker.

He listened to Joan's retarded plan and decided he had no choice but to follow her. The demon was glad that he did because Joan was about to get herself shot. Dante didn't really know what he'd been expecting from Joan exactly. But for some reason he'd felt that she'd be able to handle things on her own. Clearly, that wasn't the case. Had he expected her to transform into his Jeanne? He was going crazy. Being haunted by a ghost.

Joan was _not_ Jeanne d'Arc!

Joan Simone was just a weak human girl, who needed his protection. But as the bullet pierced the flesh of his back - he couldn't help but wonder why the hell he was protecting a human female in the first place. Dante had a human body now. He could easily die from getting shot but he found that he didn't really care as long as Joan was safe. _Mine._

"Shit! It's Dante!" Franky shouted and shot Dante again out of fear.

_Bastard!_ _That fucking hurt._ Dante used his superhuman speed and strength to pick Joan up and set her down outside in the hallway. "Stay here." Before he reentered the apartment in the blink of an eye. He saw Alan's unconscious form in the chair and his blood boiled. _Master!_ Dante blinked at his strange thought. _What the fuck?_ Why had Dante called Alan his Master? Alan wasn't King Solomon. But perhaps, if Dante started to be honest about it, the young pub owner reminded him of his friend from long ago.

Dante decided to set aside such strange thoughts for the time being and concentrated on the task at hand. He knew that Alan would want Dante to settle things in a 'nonviolent' manner. Was 'not killing' them nonviolent enough? He wondered. "I know the Boss would want me to settle this in a nonviolent manner." Dante began conversationally.

Franky smiled evilly. "That so?"

"I wonder if _not_ killing you constitutes as 'nonviolent'." Dante drawled before in an instant he was standing in front of Franky and grabbing his wrist. The demon clenched his powerful fingers and bent Franky's wrist back until a sickening _crack_ was heard.

Franky howled in pain and the semi-automatic fell from his limp fingers.

"Franky! You bastard!" Jenny screeched and shot Dante in his shoulder.

Dante's shoulder jerked back from the impact, and he sighed. He was getting really tired of being shot. He moved towards Jenny and was in front of her in a flash. He knocked the gun out of her hand.

Jenny gasped and gave Dante a fearful look before she threw her hands up in a surrendering gesture. "I-I give up! P-Please don't hurt me."

Dante brought his fist forward and aimed for Jenny's solar plexus.

"Oof!" Jenny gasped as she crumpled over and fell unconscious.

Dante caught Jenny in his arms as she fell forward, and gently set her down on the floor. She may have been a bitch but she was a _woman_. Even when Dante was the Great Duke of Hell, commander of thirty-six legions, he had his own personal creed: No women. No kids. Everyone else however...had better run.

Lucifer hadn't been too happy about Dante's creed, but he'd let Dante get away with it because they were _friends_.

"Jenny! I'm going to fucking kill you, Dante!" Franky roared as he whipped out a knife and charged Dante with it from behind. Franky stabbed the knife forward aiming at Dante's back. When Franky blinked once Dante was no longer there. "What the fuck?" Franky exclaimed as his knife swiped through thin air. That's when Dante was next to him and disarming him of the knife. "What are you?" Franky questioned as he spun to face Dante. "A vampire?"

Dante raised an eyebrow at Franky. "Please don't compare me to a useless hunk of soulless flesh. That insults me." The demon said before executing a roundhouse kick and sending his boot flying into the side of Franky's face with a crunch. "Adios Motherfucker!" Franky was sent flying across the room and landed on the floor unconscious with a fractured jaw.

Now that Alan was unconscious and Joan was no longer afraid, Dante's demonic power began to wane. His horns faded and his aura began to dissipate.

"Dante!" Came a gruff voice.

Dante spun and came face to face with Ivan. _Fuck!_ How had he not sensed the human's vile presence?

Ivan whipped out a gun, pointed it at Dante, and aimed for his head. "Die!" The German growled out as he pulled the trigger.

_Damnation._ Dante dodged and felt the bullet hit his arm. He rushed forward and took two more shots in his chest. Hot blood was seeping out of the wounds and down his chest. But that didn't stop him from disarming Ivan, sending his fist flying into the side of Ivan's face, and another swift punch to Ivan's beer gut.

_This is what happens when you leave scum like him alive. They just keep coming back for more! Dammit!_ Dante picked Ivan up by his neck and carried him over to the window. _I should just toss this vermin outside like the piece of trash that he is._

"Dante!" Came Joan's voice, cutting through his haze of bloodlust, "No!"

And Dante found himself hesitating. _Blazes._ He looked down and saw a puddle of his own blood gathering at his feet. This was so not good. He tossed Ivan across the room. The chef hit the wall and was knocked unconscious.

Dante's vision was hazy and black spots were forming in front of his eyes. Dante sunk to his knees, as the strength seemed to leave his body. _Stupid, weak, human body._ Was this it? He died protecting a bunch of lowly humans? Dante started to laugh. Ah, the irony.

"Dante!" Joan called out from his side. She sounded concerned and that surprised him. They hadn't really known each other for very long after all. But he'd sensed this 'connection' between them. It felt like he'd known her forever.

He turned to stare into her gorgeous green eyes. Dante reached up his hand and stroked Joan's cheek. "I'm sorry...goodbye, my Jeanne." Dante murmured before he fell over unconscious.

"Dante!" Joan cried out and rolled Dante over onto his back. "Crap!" She opened his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt so she could see how bad his injuries were. She sucked in a breath. Dante had been shot multiple times. Some of the wounds had started to heal themselves and the bullets had been pushed out of his body at least, but-

The wounds were no longer healing for some reason. He must have used all of his demonic power, Joan realized. _He's still bleeding._ _He's lost a lot of blood...at this rate Dante really will die. The Great Demon Duke of Hell Dantalion will die of blood loss. Unreal. He protected Alan and I. I can't let him die. I have to help him. But how?_

Joan began to think. She knew that she couldn't take Dante back to her apartment because Michael was there. The Archangel would want to kill Dante as soon as he set eyes on him. If Joan had her cross she would have been able to transform and could have tried to heal him with her magic.

"Hey," Came a voice.

Joan spun to see Detective Dekker walking towards Joan and gripping her bleeding shoulder.

"Diana! You're okay!" Relief flooded through Joan. Detective Dekker meant a lot to her. Dekker had been the only one there for her to pull her out of the darkness she'd fallen into. She'd always remember Dekker as a bright light in that dark part of her life.

"Bullet got me in the shoulder but it passed through," Dekker looked down at Dante and her eyes bulged at the sight of all the bullet holes in his chest. "Shit! What happened to him?"

"He saved us. And now...I'm going to save him." Joan whipped out her phone and made a call. "Hello, 911 Emergency Services? I need an ambulance immediately. We're in the abandoned apartment building near Bruckner Boulevard and East 137th Street." Joan quickly explained to the 911 operator. Only once she was sure an ambulance was on its way did she end the call.

Joan looked down at Dante's bleeding torso and frowned. She took her tank top off and pressed it against Dante's chest to staunch the bleeding. This was the second tank top of hers that'd gotten ruined in the last two days. She let out a sigh. The tank top was immediately soaked with blood but Joan wouldn't stop pressing on his wounds until the ambulance arrived.

Joan hovered over Dante's body and couldn't help staring down at his face. His eyes were closed and she noticed that he had really long, dark lashes. His skin was paler than usual. Her eyes traveled down to his chest. He was nicely muscled with broad shoulders. He had a warrior's physique. His six-pack abs were impressive. Even like this...dying in a pool of his own blood, Joan found this demon man to be incredibly handsome.

She swallowed thickly and turned her gaze away. Butterflies had begun to flutter like mad in her stomach and warmth had pooled in her lower abdomen. Dante made her feel things she'd never felt before. Or maybe she'd felt them five hundred and eighty-four years ago. She knew she should stay away from this demon, but she seemed to be inexorably drawn to him. Again and again, lifetime after lifetime...when would it ever end? And did she really want it to?

_To be continued in_ ...Drink 7: French Kiss

Dante: "Good evening, lowly human, so you wish to make an Adios Motherfucker? Pour 1/2 an ounce of vodka, 1/2 an ounce of rum, 1/2 an ounce of tequila, 1/2 an ounce of gin, 1/2 an ounce of Blue Curacao liqueur, 2 ounces of sweet and sour, and 2 ounces of 7-Up into a chilled glass filled with ice cubes. Stir gently and enjoy. I can't believe that I've fallen unconscious from blood loss. How pathetic. To think I risked my life for a human female...it's absurd. But there's just something about Joan."

### Chapter 7: French Kiss

The ambulance arrived ten minutes later, and took Joan, Dante, Franky, Ivan, Jenny and Detective Dekker to the closest hospital. Joan stayed by Dante's side the entire time. It was so strange seeing the powerful demon like this - so weak. So human. _If only he really was just a human,_ she mused.

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital, Dante was transferred from the truck to a bed with wheels, and Joan stayed with him until he was wheeled inside the operating room. A sign above the door lit up, illuminating the words: 'IN USE'. Joan was forced to wait outside and she collapsed into a nearby a chair before putting her face in her hands.

What if Dante died? Wouldn't that be a good thing? It would mean _she_ wouldn't have to kill him. If God ordered her to kill Dante she'd have no choice but to do it. But the thought of Dante dying made her heart clench painfully inside of her chest. _I can't lose him again._ A voice in her head said that wasn't quite her own. Perhaps, it belonged to Jeanne d'Arc.

It seemed like hours until the 'IN USE' light went off and the doctor exited the operating room. The doctor was an older man in his sixties, with short gray hair, a neatly trimmed mustache and bags under his light brown eyes from lack of sleep. He was dressed in a white lab coat. Joan stood up and approached the doctor. She noted that his expression was grim and her stomach flip-flopped. "He's dead, isn't he?"

The doctor shook his head and gave Joan a surprised look. "No. Miraculously he's alive. And that is in no small part due to you helping to staunch the blood flow. If you hadn't done that he'd be dead. That man was incredibly reckless. Using his body like a shield like that." The doctor shook his head. "Tell him I said so. The human body is fragile, not indestructible like he seems to think. Tell him to take better care of himself. Now, I must ask you, young lady, did you remove the bullets yourself?" The doctor gave Joan an intent look.

Joan flinched, and tried not to look too guilty. "Oh, uh, yea." _Crap. There's no way I can tell the doctor that the bullets were pushed out of Dante's body because of his demonic power._

The doctor nodded and patted Joan's shoulder. "That was very well done. But next time leave it to us. That's what we're here for after all. But don't worry I won't tell anyone you practiced surgery without a medical license, young lady." The doctor's tone was stern but there was a twinkle in his eyes.

_Oh, double crap!_ Why were there _so_ many rules in this era? "Thank you, Doctor."

After that Dante was taken to a hospital room and hooked up to an IV. Joan was allowed to stay with him, and moved a chair closer to his bed before taking a seat. She gazed upon Dante's unconscious face. He was sleeping. She smiled. The color was already returning to his handsome, chiseled face. Dante had a very sophisticated, Roman nose, lips that were kissable but not too big either - just perfect.

Joan licked her lips as she gazed down at Dante's lips. He almost _died_ because of her. Joan stood up from her chair, placed her right hand on the bed and leaned over Dante to get a better look at his face. Before she even realized what she was doing she was leaning over Dante and her lips were nearing his. Joan closed her eyes and pressed her lips against Dante's - a tingle of energy seemed to pass through them. Joan moaned.

She pulled back and blinked down at Dante in bewilderment. She raised a hand to her lips. Just what _was_ that? That tingle that had passed between them just now? Static electricity? Was that normal? Her lips were _still_ tingling. _I just kissed Dante. I just kissed Dante! Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God._ What the hell was wrong with her? _What the hell is wrong with me? I just kissed Dante...my enemy! A demon!_ Joan flopped back down in her chair and put her hands in her hair as she gripped her scalp. _I'm so screwed._

It was getting harder and harder for Joan to resist the magnetic pull between her and Dante. _What am I going to do?_ She felt lost and confused. Joan was exhausted and in a few minutes she'd fallen asleep right in the chair. "Zzzz."

***

As Dante was wheeled through the hospital to his room all of the fear and pain the patients and family members were feeling began to empower Dante and his wounds began to heal on their own accord.

A few minutes later, Dante awoke when suddenly he felt a pair of soft, luscious lips pressing against his own. He had to resist the groan he wanted to release. That scent...spring grass after a rainstorm and honeysuckles. An earthy scent. So familiar but...

This wasn't his beloved Jeanne. This was Joan the waitress.

Still, he'd felt a shock pass through their lips when they'd connected. Dante had to use all his willpower not to open his eyes and stare up into those gorgeous, green orbs of hers. If he did - he didn't know if he could hold himself back from sampling her luscious lips again. He'd been resisting his attraction to this girl from the very beginning, but it was still there - palpable - just beneath the surface.

There was only one human female that'd been able to unhinge him like this and that had been Jeanne d'Arc. Beautiful. Powerful. Deadly. Sweet. Innocent.

He listened to Joan let out a heavy sigh and after that he listened to her breathing until it slowed down as she fell asleep.

Finally, Dante risked opening his eyes. He sat up and looked down at his bandaged chest. He'd earned several more scars this day. He removed the IV from his arm roughly, causing some blood to pool at the crook of his arm, and he turned to look at Joan. She was still fast asleep.

He raised his index finger to his lips, and a quizzical look formed on his face. He should be furious at this inferior human for daring to kiss him while he was asleep but strangely enough Dante found that he wasn't angry. His brow furrowed. Joan had just kissed him. He'd been awake and had felt the light press of her lips against his and the sudden electric shock that had seemed to pass through them both. His lips were still tingling.

That strange sensation had only happened once before, long ago. Five hundred and eighty-four years to be exact, when he'd kissed Jeanne d'Arc. There'd been that same strange 'shock' and 'energy' that had passed between them.

And now centuries years later, this waitress Joan had made his lips tingle, and shivers run up and down his spine. He frowned. Joan Simone was _not_ Jeanne d'Arc. The only woman he'd ever truly loved. A woman he would have died for.

Suddenly, he felt guilty. As if he were cheating on the memory of Jeanne. Jeanne could not be so easily replaced. Dante stalked over to the hospital room window and opened it. He hopped up onto the window ledge, crouched, and summoned his wings. He'd gathered enough power due to the fear of the hospital's patients to do so. He spread his wings and took flight, leaving Joan behind.

His mind, heart, soul and body were in turmoil. Thoughts of Joan Simone and of Jeanne d'Arc were swirling in his mind. He reached his apartment building and headed straight for the balcony that was outside of his bedroom. He landed, willed his wings to disappear, and strolled over to the double doors before opening them and making his way into his bedroom. Dante immediately stripped off the flimsy hospital gown he'd been dressed in. The thought of lowly humans touching his body while he'd been unconscious send a tremor through Dante. Though the thought of Joan touching his unconscious body didn't seem to bother him. In fact, his blood heated at the idea.

Dante began to unwind the cloth bandages from around his scarred torso next. His wounds were all healed, thanks to all the fear the humans had been feeling at the hospital. At least those pathetic humans were good for something. He fell back onto his mattress that was now covered by black, silk sheets. Dante drifted off and almost immediately fell into a deep, tortured sleep.

In the dream realm he was taken back to a time more than five hundred years ago when he'd first laid eyes upon Jeanne d'Arc.

FLASHBACK

Lucifer was busy preparing for the Apocalypse and getting his demon armies ready to invade the Earth. He had his eyes set on France. It had been prophesized that if he managed to kill King Charles VII and defeated the French army that was led by God's Chosen Warrior that he would be successful in conquering the world. Lucifer planned to topple the God-Chosen human king and knew that there was only one person standing in his way.

That person was Jeanne d'Arc. The Maid of Orléans. The Maid of Lorraine. The Lady Knight. The Crusader Queen (though Jeanne had never been a Queen). She was God's Chosen Warrior and in command of the army that stood in the way of Lucifer's victory. Of the start of the Apocalypse. And she would soon be dead.

Lucifer decided to send his best friend, the Great Duke of Hell, Dantalion, and one of his many legions against her army. Lucifer named this particular legion the 'Legion of the Serpent'.

The coming battle would not only determine Lucifer's victory but it would also be a 'test' of Dantalion's loyalty. A loyalty that he'd been beginning to doubt lately. For all intents and purposes, Dantalion appeared to be loyal to him. The Duke had slain Lucifer's demonic enemies in Hell, and had killed humans before as well. However, Dantalion had a creed, which he fought and lived by: 'No women. No kids.' This creed even included the spawns of demons. It didn't matter to Dante if they were a human child or a demon child, he would not slay them and instead spare their lives.

Lucifer saw this as a weakness. A hiccup in his schemes to come, and wanted to see if he could cure Dantalion of his 'condition'.

Jeanne d'Arc was a young, human female. Lucifer wondered how Dantalion would react to her. The woman would be unlike any Dantalion had ever encountered before. She was a warrior through and through. She was no pushover and she was not a woman who needed to be protected. She was deadly and she was their enemy. Lucifer smiled at the thought of Dantalion running his sword right through Jeanne's heart.

***

In October of 1429, Jeanne was with the royal army when it took Saint-Pierre-le-Moûtier. This was followed by an unsuccessful attempt to take La-Charité-sur-Loire during the months of November and December. It was during the truce with England that the Archangel Michael appeared to Jeanne and informed her that her army would be charged with facing off against a demon Duke known as Dantalion and his legion of demons. Dantalion's aim was to destroy her army and then assassinate King Charles VII.

***

The day of the fateful battle had arrived. Duke Dantalion and his legion of bloodthirsty demons would fight against God's Chosen Knight and his holy army of demon slayers who were charged with preventing the Apocalypse. Duke Dantalion had a new mission. He was to kill King Charles VII, but Lucifer told Dantalion he would first have to fight and defeat God's Chosen Warrior and his holy army.

The demons in Dantalion's legion entered the battlefield on horseback. They were in their 'human forms' so their claws, fangs, wings, tails, and horns were currently absent. The demon warriors were all mounted on hellish steeds that had glossy, black coats and glowing, red eyes. Some of the horses even had bat-like wings and horns in the center of their foreheads.

Approaching his legion was God's Chosen army. The humans were also mounted on horseback and dressed heavily in impressive, gleaming, steel armor. They wielded a variety of deadly looking weapons: double-edged swords, spears, and crossbows. The army had a fierceness, an unexpected confidence about it. A sense of true purpose. And there at the front of their army was God's Chosen Warrior - the one Dantalion was supposed to fight and kill.

The sun blinded Dantalion's eyes momentarily blocking the holy warrior from view and he raised his hand to shield himself from the light. The warrior's armor was as golden and bright as the sun. Dantalion lowered his hand and took a better look at the warrior. He blinked.

The knight was dressed in golden armor and wielded a double-edged sword, but what surprised Dantalion the most was that God's Chosen warrior was a woman. "A woman?" Dantalion growled in a low, deep voice. _Damn you, Lucifer._ What game was Lucifer playing at? He knew of Dantalion's creed: 'No women. No kids'.

Did Lucifer really expect Dantalion to fight and kill this holy warrior maiden? Dantalion looked at his demons out of the corner of his eyes. If he did not fight the woman then one of his men would and they would show her no mercy.

They would fight her, defeat her, and maybe even rape her before dealing the final blow. That was the nature of a demon from Hell but...the very idea made Dantalion sick. He unsheathed his impressive, double-edged, black iron, great sword and raised it before him. "God's holy warrior is mine!" Dantalion roared to his men.

"Aye, Commander!" The demons cried out in unison. Dante could tell that they were looking forward to seeing the fight.

Dantalion decided he would face the woman, defeat her, and perhaps capture her. After that he would decide what to do with her. Maybe as long as he defeated her and her army Lucifer wouldn't mind if he spared the warrior maiden's life. The demon Duke lowered his sword and pointed it at the army in front of him. "For Lucifer! Charge!" He bellowed and rode forward heading directly for the lady knight.

"For Lucifer!" The demons let out a ferocious battle roar as they unsheathed their weapons and charged forward after their brave commander. They were about to spill lowly human blood - one of their favorite things to do. Evil leers and sinister grins stretched across their faces and their eyes gleamed with malice. They may have appeared human but that bloodthirsty look in their eyes gave away their demonic nature.

The Maid pointed her sword forward, "For God! For peace! Attack! Destroy all the demons!" Jeanne kicked her white horse into motion and rode forward without fear.

Dantalion couldn't help but be momentarily impressed by the young woman's ferocity. It was a trait that demons respected. The warrior maiden must have spotted him too because she rode right for him. As she got closer to Dantalion he was able to see her face more clearly. She had cut her stunning, platinum blonde hair short - a pity really. And her eyes - Dantalion had never seen more captivating eyes. They were wide with long, dark lashes, and a pale green with flecks of silvery starlight in them.

Dantalion barely raised his sword in time to block the vicious swing of the maiden's sword that had been aimed at his head. She'd meant to decapitate him with that blow. Steel clanged against steel as he pressed his sword against hers. Well, he assumed her sword had been made of steel but truly he'd never seen a metal like it. It looked like gold but was obviously much stronger. Jeanne was surprisingly strong and continued to push against his sword with all her might while trying to get her sword closer to his neck, inch by deadly inch. "Die demon!" She snarled.

Her eyes once again captivated Dantalion. They were blazing with such fiery passion, determination and fearlessness they reminded him of the flames that blazed for all eternity in Hell. Unquenchable. Her eyes looked like emeralds that had been thrown into the fire pits of Hell. _So fierce. So beautiful._ Dantalion found himself thinking. He gazed at the rest of her face next, wanting to see more of her. She had an oval-shaped face, high cheekbones, perfectly kissable, pouty, pink lips, and a dainty, sloping nose. Overall it was a very feminine face. Angelic.

She looked innocent, delicate, vulnerable, and yet she was holding her own against him as they fought against each other. How fascinating. Was she really just a human? Dantalion wondered in awe. _Perhaps, she's an Archangel._ There was no way this fierce beauty could be a mere mortal female.

In a daze, Dantalion swung his sword and continued to block the maid's attacks. He wasn't really paying much attention to her attacks though and was instead lost in her green eyes.

Jeanne was serious, however, and getting more and more frustrated with the demon Duke Dantalion. She knew he wasn't taking her at all seriously. He'd yet to go on the offensive and continued to merely block her deadly attacks. "Argh!" Jeanne yelled out in frustration as she viciously swung her sword at Dantalion again. This time she managed to slice her sword past his upper arm, drawing blood.

Dantalion's eyes widened at the fact that this human female had managed to cut him. He smiled and his golden eyes gleamed with interest.

Jeanne gasped at the sight and her heart fluttered inside of her chest. What the hell was wrong with her? No, what the hell was wrong with this demon in front of her? She'd just wounded him and now he was smiling. That smile made him look very handsome. His golden eyes were ablaze as they looked at her with...admiration? No. A demon wouldn't look at a lowly human with admiration so it had to be _lust._ Jeanne's lips thinned and she gave Dantalion a disgusted look. "Don't look at me like that! You perverted demon!" She accused with obvious ire in her voice.

Dantalion blinked. _Perverted?_ How had he been looking at her? He wondered. Dantalion shook his head. "What is your name, woman?"

Jeanne narrowed her eyes at Dantalion suspiciously. She knew this demon had no right or reason to know her name and yet...she found herself answering him. "Jeanne." She spat.

"Jeanne." Dantalion repeated her name as if it were a blessing and smiled again.

Jeanne felt flabbergasted. _What the hell is up with this demon?_ But for some inexplicable reason she found herself asking. "And what's your name, demon?" She sneered the word 'demon' but the demon Duke didn't seem to mind.

"I am Duke Dantalion." Dantalion replied with obvious pride in his voice.

Jeanne raised her eyebrow at Dantalion. "A Duke of Hell? They have Dukes down there? I've always pictured Hell as being a gigantic, flaming pit."

Dantalion frowned. "Yes...we also have Lords and Ladies." He didn't like this woman insulting his domain.

Jeanne snorted. "Ladies? You mean whores of Satan?"

A muscle beneath Dantalion's eye ticked as he thought of his fiancée, Lilith. Lucifer had chosen her for him. She was a legendary demon after all. She'd been Adam's first wife but when she'd refused to lie below Adam during sexual intercourse, she'd been thrown unmercifully out of the Garden of Eden.

After that she became the demon Samael's lover, and had spawned several half-demon half-human children. Lilith's children had been evil and had spread chaos across the Earth. When Lilith died and her soul went to Hell, Lucifer decided to reward her for the mess she'd made upon the Earth. He made her a demon and gave her power just to spite the God who'd created her only to then forsake her.

Dantalion didn't love Lilith, but...he would marry her because Lucifer wanted him to. He didn't like this lowly human woman calling his fiancée a whore. Even if she was a whore. Sure, Lilith had been Samael's lover at one point, and then once she became a powerful demoness in Hell had taken many lovers and even had several love slaves. But at the moment, Lilith only had eyes for Dantalion and had slept with no other demons since their engagement. Dantalion also respected Lilith for her strength and tenacity.

"You know not what you speak, ignorant woman. I grow weary of this conversation. I believe it is about time I defeated you." Dantalion announced and pointed his sword at Jeanne threateningly.

Jeanne was caught off-guard by the demon's sudden attitude change. She realized she must have hit a nerve or something. But she was glad Dantalion was finally going to get serious. "Defeat me? Ha. I'd like to see you try, demon! I will defeat you and rid the world of your evil!"

They both charged each other and their swords clashed again throwing sparks up into the air. Now that Dantalion was finally taking her seriously, Jeanne's arms began to ache with the force of Dantalion's blows. His golden eyes had taken on a murderous gleam - reminding her that this was no handsome man before her, but an evil, bloodthirsty demon.

This demon...is incredibly powerful, more so than any demon I've ever had to face before. Dantalion is different. He is also...frightening. Intimidating.

Jeanne began to realize that she would not win this fight. The demon had only been toying with her. Her eyes widened in fear as her life seemed to flash before her eyes. She shook her head, "No!" She didn't want to die. Jeanne turned her horse around and kicked her horse into a gallop as she fled from Dantalion.

Dantalion chuckled darkly as he watched Jeanne ride off and try to flee from him. _That's more like the pathetic human she truly is!_ "You won't escape me, woman!" Dante called after her as he kicked his black steed into a gallop and took off in pursuit.

Jeanne was forced to stop her horse abruptly when she reached the edge of a cliff. "Whoa!" Jeanne pulled back on the horse's reins and looked down over the cliff's edge. Her horse's hooves dislodged a few rocks that plummeted down. She gulped. It was a hundred-foot drop that ended with a rushing, gray-blue river. Sharp, jagged rocks were poking up out of the river's surface. If she fell, the rocks would impale her and she'd be killed instantly.

Dantalion's dark laughter had her turning her horse around to face him. "There is no escape, Jeanne. Surrender!"

Jeanne blinked. _What? Surrender?_ Demons were rarely known to take prisoners...and if they did it was for nefarious purposes. Jeanne's eyes narrowed at Dantalion and her lips thinned. This disgusting demon probably wanted to rape her, she deduced. Well, she would rather die first! She found renewed strength in her anger.

Jeanne unsheathed her sword and pointed it at Dantalion. "I will never surrender to you, you foul demon! Now come and try to kill me!"

Dantalion's confident expression shifted to surprise at this beautiful, fierce human who'd apparently found her courage once more. He could tell she was ready to fight to the death. His bloodlust faded and he smiled. "I will not kill you, Jeanne. But...I will defeat and capture you. And after that I will decide what I must do with you." _You confound me._

Jeanne's brow furrowed. "I know what you're up to demon! But no man will ever touch me without my permission! I would rather die first! Die, demon!" Jeanne charged forward, attacked, and let out a battle cry.

Dantalion found that he was offended by Jeanne's low opinion of him. But he also realized that his feelings made no sense. He was a demon.

Dantalion raised his sword and their swords clashed. His smile widened. Yes, her blows were stronger and more impressive now. This was a magnificent fight. His blood was boiling with...passion. "That's it Jeanne. Embrace your anger. It makes you stronger!"

"Silence demon! Die!" Jeanne nicked the side of Dantalion's face. She felt a pang of regret at the action since he was so handsome but quickly shook her head of such thoughts.

He wiped the blood from his face with his thumb and licked the blood from his fingers with a flick of his tongue. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes. It had been centuries since he'd last been injured. This woman intrigued, amazed, and fascinated him. "Very good, Jeanne." He praised.

Jeanne frowned at the demon and seemed to hesitate. "Dantalion-?" She began and her sword lowered half an inch.

His name coming from her lips was music to Dantalion's ears. She'd finally said his name. He groaned, as his shaft swelled with desire. _Am I attracted to this female?_ He thought to himself in awe. However-

Jeanne suddenly cried out in pain.

Dantalion looked up and saw an arrow sticking out of the junction between Jeanne's arm and her shoulder, right between her armor. Dantalion turned to see one of his demon knights with his bow raised and a wide grin stretched across his face. "Duke Dantalion! I got her! Now, finish her!"

_How dare he interfere!_ Dantalion looked over at Jeanne and then looked back over at the demon who'd 'aided' him. He was _furious._ Dantalion was surprised by his sudden anger but he found that he was angry at this demon for shooting Jeanne. Dantalion growled low in his throat before turning his horse towards the demon. He charged towards him, and raised his sword. "I told you: none are to interfere! The woman is _my_ prey and my prey alone! You disobeyed me, fool."

The demon paled as he saw Dantalion riding towards him with a murderous look on his face. He instantly dropped his bow and put his hands up before him in a surrendering gesture. "My Duke! I'm sorry I-"

Dantalion twirled his massive great sword through the air and swung his sword at the demon's neck. Dantalion's sword sliced through the demon's neck and he was decapitated. Blood spurted from the neck and the body fell over onto the ground.

The demon Duke turned to face Jeanne.

She was wide-eyed and looking at him in astonishment. "Dantalion...?" That's when she swayed in her saddle, her eyes drifted close as she lost consciousness, and she fell off her horse and right off the cliff.

"Jeanne!" Dantalion yelled out and was surprised by what he'd just done. He forced himself not to go after her. She was his enemy - a chosen warrior of God! He couldn't kill her because of his creed, but if she fell to her death then...he wouldn't have to kill her himself. _Dantalion._ The demon recalled the way her sweet voice had said his name like a caress, and it wouldn't leave him. It echoed in his head over and over again.

_Damnation!_ Dantalion summoned his wings so that they emerged from his back. His wings were black, leathery, and dragon-like with claws on their tips. His wings spread and he took off into the sky with a violent flap. He flew over the cliff's edge and dove down after Jeanne. "Jeanne!" His hesitation had cost him dearly. He'd barely make it. The demon wrapped his arms and wings around Jeanne just before she hit the rocks.

Instead Dantalion let the rocks hit _his_ back as he shielded Jeanne's body with his own. The air was knocked out of his lungs and they fell into the river. Dantalion made sure to keep his arms and wings wrapped around Jeanne's fragile form as the roaring, raging river began to swiftly carry them downstream. The swirling currents slammed Dantalion into several sharp, jagged rocks and through the excruciating pain he struggled to stay conscious. His wings were cut and torn and his body was badly sliced and scraped.

It felt like a hundred demons were holding him down and attacking him all at once. It seemed like hours before the river finally calmed enough that Dantalion was able to fight against the currents and swim Jeanne to shore. Dantalion stood up on the riverbank with Jeanne in his arms, cradled against his chest protectively, and looked around for any sign of shelter.

_First things first._ He knew that he had to see to Jeanne's wounds. He entered the forest and after a few minutes of searching found a suitable cave that would have to do for shelter. Dantalion was in excruciating pain himself, and could feel himself bleeding from the various wounds that covered his body, but...Jeanne's needs would be seen to first. After all he was an immortal demon. He would heal. Eventually.

Dantalion carried Jeanne inside of the cave and set her down gently. He realized he would need to make a fire before nightfall. Dantalion left Jeanne in the cave and went to gather firewood in the nearby forest. When he had a sufficient amount, he returned to the cave, and set about making a small fire. Once the flames were crackling to life, he decided it was time to see to Jeanne's wounds.

Dantalion approached the unconscious form of the warrior maiden and simply gazed upon her face for a moment. She was a bag of contradictions: fierce, powerful, strong, courageous, and brave. Innocent, pure, vulnerable, delicate. A single arrow had felled her.

The demon set about taking her armor off until she was in nothing but a white blouse, a pair of brown leather pants, and a pair of black boots. Her shirt was soaked and stained red with blood. It was also plastered to her wet flesh in such a way that Dantalion could see her dusky nipples.

Dantalion gulped at the sight and blood filled his cock. He shook his head, not understanding his physical attraction to this strange human woman. He peeled off her shirt and gasped at the sight of her full breasts. They were beautiful, pale mounds of flesh. Her nipples were hard because of the coldwater and arching towards him. Her nipples were small and light brown. Dantalion's hand twitched but he resisted the urge to cup her glorious breasts in his hands.

Instead, he turned his attention to her wound. The arrow had imbedded itself deeply and would need to be pulled out. Dantalion gripped the arrow firmly, and pulled it out as swiftly as possible. Blood spurted from her wound and he immediately pressed her wet shirt against the wound to stop the blood flow. He realized that the wound needed to be closed or else this delicate woman would simply die of blood loss.

Dantalion was glad Jeanne was unconscious for what he was about to do. He placed his hand directly over the wound and concentrated on his demonic power - summoning fire and cauterizing the wound. The smell of burning flesh hit his nostrils making him feel like he was back in Hell. In Hell demons tortured the damned souls of humans...burning them, peeling off their flesh, eating them.

Dantalion quickly pulled his hand back and inspected the wound. She would live. A demon's saliva had healing properties and so Dantalion leaned over Jeanne's form and licked her wound for a few minutes. His tongue touched a part of her uninjured flesh on her collarbone, and a shock went through Dantalion's body. His cock twitched.

She tasted like honeysuckles and fresh grass. Milk and honey. A divine gift of the gods. Before Dantalion even realized what he was doing he began to lick and nip at her neck. She was delicious. He just couldn't get enough. Jeanne's nipples hardened at his touch and she let out a husky moan.

Dantalion pulled back abruptly as if burned, his eyes wide, and he was panting for breath. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd lost himself in his desire for this inferior human woman. How was that possible? How could this lowly human woman arouse him so much? Just licking her skin...her taste...it was more erotic than having sex with his fiancée Lilith.

He shuddered and tried to get himself under control. He sniffed Jeanne discovering that she was a virgin - pure and innocent. And here he was acting like a beast. Well, he _was_ a demon, a monster, but Dantalion had his code that he'd followed ever since he could remember. Dantalion frowned as he tried to remember his existence before he'd become a Duke of Hell. Had he been human once? Or was he one of God's fallen angels like Lucifer himself? Would it even make a difference? Probably not, but sometimes...sometimes he felt...conflicted about the things Lucifer made him do. He shook his head. No, there was no other way and no turning back. Everything he did was for his friendship with Lucifer. He cared for Lucifer like a brother and that would never change.

Dantalion backed away from Jeanne and sat down on the other side of the fire, crossing his legs. He stared through the flickering, orange and red flames at Jeanne's unconscious form. Watched the rise and fall of her beautiful chest. He licked his lips. _So beautiful. So pure._ She was like a bright light in the darkness, the boredom, the monotony of his routine life. But he still didn't trust her.

She was a Chosen Warrior for God and he was a demon. They were enemies. If she had the chance she would cut off his head. That was the only way to kill an immortal demon after all.

Dantalion remained sitting cross-legged and continued to keep a watch on her. He had this strange sense of peace and contentment wash over him. He would not sleep that night, he decided. However, the demon had underestimated the amount of blood he'd lost and slipped into unconsciousness.

***

Jeanne awoke with a gasp and sat up, wide-eyed, trembling, and felt a sharp stab of pain in her shoulder. She grabbed her shoulder and noticed the cauterized wound where the arrow had been imbedded. Her eyes widened in surprise. _Who?_ She realized she was shirtless and wrapped one of her arms around her chest self-consciously as a pink tinge came to her cheeks. Someone had obviously saved her but...who?

She noticed the small fire and looked past it. She gasped when she spotted the demon Duke Dantalion lying on the floor. "Dantalion!" She hissed and looked around frantically for her sword. She spotted her armor lying in a pile and her sword was sitting right on top of it. She scrambled to a stand, grabbed her sword, and held her breath as she carefully approached Dantalion as silently as she could.

Jeanne stood next to him, raised her sword, and prepared to take his head. "And now, you die, Dantalion." Jeanne said softly as she looked down at his sleeping face. But then she paused. He didn't look so good. He was ghostly pale, and sweat beaded his brow making him appear feverish. His brow was furrowed in pain and a scowl marred his lips.

Jeanne lowered her sword and instead poked the demon with the tip of her blade. "Hey, wake up, so I can kill you, Dantalion."

There was no response. Jeanne frowned. The demon was obviously injured but she didn't remember injuring him badly, so why...? Jeanne thought back to the last thing she remembered. She'd been shot in the arm by a demon and then-? Dante had looked at her and the demon before Dantalion rode towards the demon with his sword raised. Dantalion had swung his sword and decapitated the demon! After that Jeanne remembered how Dantalion had turned to look at her with an almost concerned expression on his face. _That's right...he'd looked angry and concerned._

However, the pain in her shoulder had become too much and she passed out, falling backwards. She must have fallen right off the cliff to her doom. Her eyes widened in realization. Dantalion must have decided to save her. _No._ Jeanne shook her head. _That's impossible._

Jeanne poked the demon with her sword again. Still no response. She decided to see where he was injured, for curiosity's sake. It wasn't like she was worried about him or anything. She set her sword down, reached out, and began to remove Dantalion's impressive armor, and his long, black and red cape.

After that she removed his shirt. She gasped at the sight of his battered, bruised, bleeding and heavily scarred chest. Huge dark blue and yellow bruises were forming on his body. Deep gashes were bleeding from where the rocks in the river must have hit and cut him. The many jagged scars he had were obviously from pervious battles. He was definitely a warrior. Like her. There were so many scars. And yet his face was still perfect. She let out a sigh of relief.

Unconsciously, she reached her hand out and traced one of his scars. Like this he almost appeared human. He looked so different from the very first time she'd laid her eyes upon him. She thought back to that fateful moment...

Their two armies had approached one another, and that's when Jeanne saw him. The leader of the demon army. He was astride a gigantic, black horse with glowing red eyes. The demon commander was huge, intimidating, powerful looking. He was dressed in all black with a pair of heavy, black boots on his feet. Black iron armor with spikes on it adorned his chest, and a long, flowing, black cape with a blood-red lining whipped wildly behind him in the wind. He wielded a gigantic, double-handed, black iron, great sword. The hilt of the sword was a dragon's outstretched wings and the bottom of the pommel was a series of howling skulls.

The wind blew the demon's wavy, midnight hair around his shoulders. His eyes were a golden color - like the blazing sun or smelting gold. They were incredible. Most demons had red or yellow eyes, but not gold with flecks of orange and silver in them. They were beautiful. Captivating. His face was elegant with chiseled features, a long blade of a nose, and he had pale but slightly sun-kissed skin from having been outside.

Jeanne sucked in a breath. She'd never seen such a handsome man before. Her heart was already beating faster inside of her chest, and her mouth felt dry. Heat and wetness pooled between her legs at the sight of this powerful, handsome, demon man. The sight of a man had never affected her like this before. In fact, she'd never really been attracted to a man before. Had always thought of herself as a man herself really. She was a warrior after all. But right now Jeanne was definitely attracted to this demon commander. And she _hated_ herself for it. How could she be attracted to this man - a _demon_ no less! It was a sin!

Jeanne raised her sword and pointed it at Dantalion as if he'd offended her. She would kill this demon man no matter how good-looking he was, and put his head on a pike. "For God! Attack!" She cried and rode straight for him. Their swords clashed and she was able to get an even closer look at his handsome face. Mistake.

He seemed distracted too, and this angered Jeanne. _Pay attention to me! See me!_ She had urged in her mind and attacked him more fiercely than before. His attention finally seemed to truly focus upon her and he smiled, taking her breath away.

It wasn't a smile she'd ever seen on a demon's face before. It wasn't a leer, or a sneer, or a snarl. But a genuine smile. One of pure pleasure. It transformed his fierce face into a handsome visage of temptation.

Jeanne could barely breath. This demon man totally affected her and she didn't know why. It confused her. She'd never been attracted to a man before and had never felt these strange feelings and sensations until now. Until this demon had awakened them inside of her. He'd awakened her femininity.

And she hated it - _detested_ him for it. She would kill him for it. Jeanne had thought that perhaps she'd go through life without ever feeling physical attraction for a man and had been slightly saddened by this thought. She'd supposed that perhaps God meant for her to be celibate.

But now, her blood was on fire as those golden eyes bore into hers searchingly. She licked her lips and her emerald green eyes were drawn to his not too big but not too thin lips. Kissable lips. She shook her head and attacked Dantalion again. They spoke to one another and exchanged names. He still wasn't taking her very seriously until she insulted the so-called 'ladies' of Hell.

Then all of a sudden he was fighting her seriously and he'd become rather frightening. His expression had frosted over, and a fierce aura of power had flared up around him. He'd suddenly scared her and she took off at a gallop while trying to flee from him. She was a coward. Afraid of Dantalion and her own strange emotions. She didn't think she wanted to kill him, and unless she was fighting him seriously she knew she'd have no chance against him. Was he perhaps a fallen angel? Is this what made him appear so different from the demons she normally encountered? That Dantalion had once been 'good'. Did this mean that perhaps somewhere deep inside of him...there was still 'good'? Is this what drew her to him? The thoughts zipped through her mind like streaks of lightning.

Dantalion pursued her and they'd fought by the cliff. An arrow pierced her shoulder. She fell. But she was still alive.

"He saved me." Jeanne murmured in awe, and felt confused. "He actually risked his life to save me...but _why?_ " She frowned. _Is there still 'good' in him like I suspected? Is that why he saved me? Did he used to be an Archangel? Like Michael._

_I could just leave him here and return to my men._ She instantly discarded the idea. She was still weak from blood loss and half-naked. If she were to return to her men looking like this...one of them would probably rape her. This was sad, but true. Her men were, well, men and had 'needs'. That's why Joan was allowed to dress up like a man - to protect herself from her own men, her own army, and to hinder their desire for her.

_Nothing in this world is truly black and white. Good or evil._ Jeanne had learned this by fighting a war. _I'm in command of God's holy army but they aren't saints. They aren't angels. They are human men. And no human is without sin upon this Earth._

A puddle of blood began to pool around Dantalion ominously. She sighed. She really should just leave him there to die but...she found that she couldn't. Jeanne grabbed his magnificent cape and began to rip it into strips. After that she wrapped a piece of the black material around her chest for modesty's sake. She grabbed another piece of material and went outside to find the river.

Once she found the river she wet the cloth. She returned to the cave and began to clean Dantalion's wounds. After she was done cleaning the front of his chest she flipped him over onto his stomach. She gasped. His back was even worse than his chest and was covered in bruises and deep gashes. She cleaned his wounds gently and began to wrap strips of black cloth around his torso before tying the strips tightly to staunch the blood flow. It took at least an hour before she was done. She rolled Dantalion over onto his back and wiped sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.

Once her task of treating the demon's wounds was finally finished, she stood up and made her way to the other side of the fire before sitting down. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around her legs, and rested her chin on her knees. She peered at Dantalion through the flames and watched the rise and fall of his chest. She felt oddly safe in his presence.

***

Several hours passed before Dantalion began to wake up. He started awake and sat up. _I fell asleep!_ He looked down at his chest and blinked upon seeing the makeshift bandages that had been tied around his torso. _Who?_ Dantalion turned his head and spotted Jeanne silently staring at him from across the fire, her sword lying next to her.

"Jeanne," Dantalion breathed. She was awake. And he was still alive. She hadn't killed him in his sleep, but had actually tended to his wounds. _Why?_

"Dantalion," Jeanne murmured back. Her green eyes were intense, wary, curious.

They sat there and just stared at each other silently for several electrically charged minutes.

Finally, Dantalion ran his hands back through his mussed-up hair. "Why am I still alive? Why didn't you kill me?"

Jeanne's eyes narrowed at Dantalion. "I could be asking you the same thing, demon."

Dantalion's eyes widened and he chuckled. "Oh, why indeed. I don't really know why myself, but I follow a creed. I don't kill women or children. Your presence upon the battlefield today truly caught me off-guard. I didn't know what to do. First, I wanted to go back to Hell and give Lucifer a piece of my mind. He knows of my creed and yet he sent me to kill you, obviously. Perhaps, he was testing me, but...I will never stray from my creed." _It's the only thing I have left._

Jeanne's eyebrows shot up to her hairline. A demon who had a creed he lived by? She'd never heard of such a thing before. It was...odd. "You mean you've _never_ killed a woman or child before? Ever?" She was giving the demon a skeptical look.

Dantalion shook his head. "No."

Jeanne's expression shifted to surprise. "You know...it's very odd for a demon to say something like that. I've never heard of a demon showing a human mercy before."

Dantalion shrugged. "It is _my_ way."

"So are you really going to go against Lucifer's orders and not kill me?" Jeanne prodded.

"Yes."

"What do you plan to do with me then?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you just let me go?"

"I...can't." Dantalion said apologetically. He didn't know what he was going to do about Jeanne d'Arc. He needed more time to think.

Jeanne stood up aburptly and grabbed her sword. "If you think you can keep me here by force you are sadly mistaken, demon! I am Jeanne the Maid! God's Chosen Warrior! I can kill you!"

"Possibly. Why don't you then?" The demon challenged.

Jeanne let out a frustrated noise. "You almost sound like you want me to kill you!"

Dantalion did not respond.

Jeanne sat down with a huff. She gave Dantalion a thoughtful look. "Hey...do you think there are more demons like you in Hell?"

Dantalion blinked. "Like me? How do you mean?"

Jeanne waved her hand through the air. "I don't know...like demons who wouldn't mind calling a truce with the humans instead of starting the Apocalypse. You said even Hell has Lords and Ladies, right? Maybe we can call a truce and co-exist?"

Dantalion gave Jeanne a surprised look before he burst out laughing at the absurdity of her suggestion. "That's ludicrous! Demons belong in Hell not on Earth! They are beings of pure evil and would plunge this world you love into eternal darkness and chaos."

Now it was Jeanne's turn to look surprised. "If you really believe that then why are you helping Lucifer take over the Earth?"

That question threw Dantalion for a moment. Why _was_ he helping Lucifer with this foolhardy scheme? The Apocalypse...demons taking over the Earth. Ludicrous. Dantalion felt it deep in his bones. Demons should stay where they belonged - in Hell. Lucifer was trying to ruin the natural order of things.

It would be the same as angels suddenly deciding they wanted to live on the Earth. Dantalion recalled the last time that had happened and it had been a mess. The offspring of angels and human women had turned out to be grotesque giants that had been called Nephilim. The Nephilim terrorized the Earth until God sent the flood to wipe them all out. Well, everyone except for Noah, his family, and his arc full of animals. The Nephilim were the same beings found in the Greek pantheon of gods in the human legends. After the time of the Nephilim the angels were greatly restricted and could no longer materialize upon the Earth unless they were delivering God's messages. They were forbidden to have sex with human women again. If they broke this rule they would fall and lose their wings.

"Why indeed?" Dantalion laughed and ran his hand back through his hair. "I think it's ludicrous but...I'm a warrior. War is all I know. I fight Lucifer's enemies and kill them. And Lucifer has said that the humans are his enemies, and so I continue to fight for him on this occasion. It is my job to fight and win - not to think."

"What are you _stupid_ then?" Jeanne challenged. "You can't think for yourself? Or make your own decisions? If you believe this war Lucifer has planned is nonsense then you should tell him so!"

Dantalion should have been insulted but he found himself mulling over Jeanne's words. "Speak to Lucifer?" He was Lucifer's best friend. Perhaps he _could_ convince him that this war was folly. Dantalion worried two fingers over his jaw in thought. Perhaps, Jeanne was right. He should try and convince Lucifer of his folly. "Perhaps." The demon Duke finally said after several minutes. "The legion only obeys me. I will tell them to halt their attack until I return from Hell with further orders. I will try and convince Lucifer to stop this foolish war." Dantalion's expression was grim. He knew it would be far from easy to convince his friend to stop his war.

Jeanne smiled at Dantalion radiantly then, revealing startling white teeth. It was a smile that took Dantalion's breath away. "Thank you, Dantalion. So there are really no other demons like you in Hell? That are slightly good?"

"Slightly good?" Dantalion laughed. "I am _not_ good."

"But you saved my life." Jeanne pointed out to the demon.

Dantalion frowned, and shook his head. "You...are a woman." That's how he was justifying his actions, he realized. He'd simply been keeping true to his creed. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Maybe you're a fallen angel and that's why I sense good in you, Dantalion." Jeanne said firmly.

Dantalion's eyes widened. "You think so? I cannot remember my previous life before Hell. I do not know what I was."

"I think you were definitely an Archangel. I see good in you, Dantalion. I really do. Maybe together we can end this war between Hell and Earth." Jeanne insisted passionately. "Maybe...that's why we've met."

Dantalion found himself getting swept away by this woman's passion. He couldn't believe she thought he was 'slightly good'. He considered himself pure evil. A monster. For some reason he felt...happy that she saw good in him. Hopeful. It was a nice dream.

At that moment, Jeanne's stomach rumbled loudly causing her to blush. Dantalion raised an eyebrow at her. Dawn had broken, filling the cave with bright sunlight. He couldn't believe how much time had passed simply talking to this strange human female. "Hungry?" The demon questioned gruffly.

Jeanne nodded. "Yes."

"I'll go to the river and catch us some fish. You stay here and rest." Dantalion said in a stern tone.

Jeanne pouted. "I can help."

Dantalion looked at what Jeanne was wearing - her leather pants, and just a scrap of material wrapped around her full chest. He didn't want any men to accidentally see Jeanne looking that way. Provocative. After Jeanne was fed he would go into the nearby village and procure some clothes for Jeanne before returning her to her army. He would then return to his own army and tell them to hold off on the attack upon the humans until he returned from Hell.

"No." Dantalion said firmly. "You are to wait here. I shall return momentarily." That said, Dantalion left the cave and Jeanne behind.

Jeanne stuck her tongue out at the demon once his back was turned. He was treating her like a kid. She was Jeanne the Maid! A fierce warrioress! A warrioress who also felt disgusting. _Ugh._ She was all sweaty and her hair was oily. She sniffed her armpits and discovered she smelled. Didn't demons have heightened senses or something? She blushed at the thought of Dantalion thinking she stunk like a pile of horse manure. She probably smelled _horrible_. How embarrassing!

Jeanne decided that she'd go take a quick bath in the lake she'd spotted yesterday on her trip to the river. She picked up her sword, strapped it to her side, and set off into the forest, heading for the lake. She arrived there in a matter of minutes. The lake was small, tranquil and a lovely dark blue. It was so hot out she'd begun sweating during her trek to the lake.

Jeanne quickly stripped out of her clothes, set them down into a pile, and set her sword down on top. She made her way to the lake and dipped her toe into the water. The water was cool and refreshing, and not too cold. Jeanne stepped all the way inside and began to swim around. _Ah, bliss. This is heavenly._

***

Meanwhile, at the river, Dantalion was hopping from rock to rock and peering down at the fish that were rapidly swimming past. He'd left his great sword back inside the cave and so raised his hand, extending his claws. His gaze narrowed upon the fish and he struck. His clawed hand pierced the body of a fish and Dantalion pulled it out of the water. Dantalion removed the fish from his hand and tossed it upon the shore.

He looked down at the rushing river water again and prepared to get another trout. The demon spotted another fish and his hand flashed into the water. Dantalion's sharp claws pierced the fish and in seconds he'd caught another. This fish was thrown at the shore where it landed next to the other one. He caught several more fish in this manner, until-

"Dantalion!" Came Jeanne's panicked scream that echoed through the surrounding forest trees.

Dantalion turned to look in the direction that the scream had come from. "Jeanne." He took off running into the forest.

***

Jeanne had been dozing off in the water when suddenly she heard deep voices and laughter. _Oh dear._ Jeanne turned her attention to the lakeshore where three male bandits had appeared. They were scruffy looking men dressed in brown leather pants, and dirty shirts. The bandits had rusted weapons strapped to their sides and onto their bodies. Their faces were unshaven and covered with scars. The men were searching through Jeanne's pile of clothes for money. They picked up Jeanne's sword and stared at it. When they unsheathed it they discovered that the blade appeared to be made out of gold. "Oh, this is a nice sword. It looks like it's been made out of solid gold! This will fetch a pretty penny in town."

_My sword!_ Jeanne gasped. Her sword was very important to her. She'd seen the sword in one of her visions and had somehow known that it could be found buried behind the altar inside of the church of Saint Catherine of Fierbois. The sword had been covered in a layer of dust but once that rust had been removed it was to reveal its uncanny golden appearance.

The three bandits turned to stare in her direction, drawn by the sound of her gasp. Evil leers spread across their rugged faces.

"Well, look at what we have here, boys." One of the bandits began.

"A pretty boy?" One of the others asked in a dumb tone.

_Whack!_ This bandit was promptly hit over the head by the first. "No, you idiot! That's definitely a girl."

"Why's she got a sword then?" The bandit who'd been hit over the head asked dumbly as he rubbed the bump now forming there.

"Hell if I know." His friend shrugged.

"Girl, where's your money purse?" The first bandit called out to her.

"I don't have any money. And get your hands off my sword, you ruffians!" Jeanne demanded.

The bandits laughed in unison. "Why don't you make us?"

"I..." Jeanne chewed on her lower lip as she hesitated. _These scoundrels!_ If she had her sword she could gut them in five seconds flat. But without her sword...she was just a woman who could be easily overpowered by a man. _Darn it!_ Jeanne turned and began to swim away from the shore. _I have to escape!_

"Oh, you're not getting away!" A bandit called out, before diving in after Joan and swimming after her.

Jeanne couldn't believe how quickly the man caught up to her. In seconds, he was upon her, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides as he restrained her and swam her back to shore. Jeanne kicked and struggled against the man's iron hold, but he had her arms pinned behind her back. The other two bandits drew closer and leered at Jeanne's naked body.

"My God, she's definitely a woman all right. And a beautiful woman at that." The third bandit said in a rough voice.

"Why did you cut your hair short? Trying to travel through these lands while pretending you're a man? You know it's a crime for a woman to wear a man's clothes. You'll have to be properly punished." The men chuckled, leered, and licked their lips evilly.

Jeanne paled. These men were going to rape her. She took a deep breath and screamed: "Dantalion!"

The men looked around nervously but when no one immediately showed up they began to laugh. "Who's Dantalion?" The first bandit and apparently the smartest of the group asked.

"A demon from Hell." Jeanne said smoothly.

"A demon?" The bandits began to laugh even harder.

"Hold her still," one of the bandits approached Jeanne and reached his hand out towards her breasts.

Jeanne cringed away from his touch. However-

Splurt. _Jeanne watched as a clawed hand abruptly burst through the man's chest. Blood dribbled down the man's chin, and the bandit's eyes were wide in pain and horror. Jeanne was equally shocked by what had just happened and her mouth gaped open slightly._

The bandit sunk to his knees and then Dantalion was revealed. He looked...different. His golden eyes had turned red, horns had sprouted out of his head, his incisors had lengthened, and his nails had turned into long, black claws.

Dantalion turned his attention to the bandit on Jeanne's left next and attacked, swiping his claws across the man's throat without mercy. The man staggered backwards gasping and gurgling before he fell over dead.

The bandit that held Jeanne pulled out a knife and held it against Jeanne's throat. "Stop! Don't come any closer or I'll slit her throat!" The bandit warned, however-

Dantalion had suddenly vanished.

In a heartbeat, Dantalion was in front of the bandit and kicking the knife from the bandit's hand. After that the demon side kicked the bandit sending him flying to the ground. With a feral roar Dantalion pounced on the man, straddled him, and then he thrust his clawed hand into the man's chest to rip the man's still beating heart right out of his chest. Blood splattered across Dantalion's face. The demon tossed the heart aside disgustedly. Some demons would have probably eaten the man's dark heart but not Dantalion.

Dantalion stood, panting for breath, and turned to look at Jeanne. She was looking at him wide-eyed. Dantalion took a step back from this earthly angel, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Don't look at me. I'm...I'm a monster." Dantalion growled almost angrily.

But at his words Jeanne's expression softened. She began to approach Dantalion instead of closing her eyes and running away. The lady knight approached until she stood directly in front of Dantalion.

Dantalion didn't know what Jeanne was going to do to him. Punch him? Kick him? But then she did the last thing he expected. She hugged him. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his musky scent of blood and steel. "Thank you...for saving me, Dantalion." Jeanne murmured softly.

Dantalion shivered as her fresh breath wafted over his ear and in a blink he could no longer hold himself back. He put his hands on Jeanne's shoulders, and pushed her away from him before reaching out and tilting her chin up so that she met his eyes. He searched her glittering green eyes for any sign of disgust, revulsion, or hate, but didn't see those emotions there. Instead he saw admiration and some other indefinable emotion.

That's when he kissed her.

Jeanne's eyes went wide and she almost pulled away, but as soon as their lips touched it was like an electric zap passed between them. Then Jeanne was closing her eyes and kissing him back. She tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Her luscious breasts pressed up against Dantalion's rock hard chest. They both groaned at the sensation and deepened their kiss - tongues clashing, rolling, savoring.

Jeanne felt dizzy, drunk on this intoxicating demon man. She'd never felt anything so wonderful as the emotions this man was causing her. Had never tasted something so delectable than this man's natural flavor.

Dantalion was thinking much the same thing. Jeanne's honeysuckle taste...he couldn't get enough and unconsciously put his hands on her lower back to press her even closer to his body.

Jeanne felt the evidence of his arousal pressing up against her and moaned loudly. She unconsciously moved her hips to grind against his hard cock.

Dantalion hissed and suddenly sprang away from Jeanne the Maid, breathing heavily, his eyes clouded with lust, his cock pulsing with desire. "Jeanne," He said in a husky voice. "We can't. We shouldn't. I am a demon and you are..." He shook his head. "This is a sin."

Jeanne was looking at Dantalion with a needy expression on her flushed face. "Dantalion I-" She began to struggle to form the right words. She wanted to explain her desire for this handsome demon man before her.

Dantalion turned around and put his back to her. "Get dressed. Then we shall eat. After that I will return you to God's army. Where you belong." He forced his voice to sound firm.

Jeanne's expression fell, and sadness filled her green eyes. She'd been rejected. "What if...I wanted to stay here with you instead?" She asked softly. _Always._

Dantalion turned around and gave Jeanne an astonished look. And as he saw her standing there naked, vulnerable, and with that open look on her face he realized that she wasn't afraid of him. No. She wanted him. In that instant he fell in love with Jeanne d'Arc. _So brave. So lovely._ Dantalion couldn't hold himself back. He crossed the distance between them, and kissed her once again with fervor.

He moved his lips to Jeanne's cheek and started to place kisses along her jaw line and then down her neck. He started to nibble on her collarbone as he tried to get his emotions under control. "Jeanne...Jeanne...Jeanne. I...want to stay together with you too. But we can't. But perhaps after we've ended this war...then we could be..." Dantalion swallowed the lump in his throat. "Together." _I love this human female. I want her. I want her to be mine._

Jeanne let out a wistful sigh, "Oh yes...Dantalion...yes...I've never felt this way about anyone before. Ever. For once in my life I finally feel truly alive." _I want to be with him. I want to be his._

"I feel the same way. I was dead until I met you, Jeanne. Now I feel alive and am willing to risk everything for the chance that we can be together freely." Dantalion vowed. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead. "Get dressed. I caught some fish."

Jeanne smiled. "Alright." _This demon man is so intriguing. He's powerful and yet kind. Pure evil and yet he's good. I want to find out more about him. I don't think I will ever tire of learning more about the puzzle that is the demon Dantalion. How many sides can one being possible have?_

_To be continued in..._ Drink 8: Between The Sheets

Dantalion: "Good evening, lowly human, tonight I am going to teach you how to French Kiss."

Reader: "Yay!"

Dantalion: "I mean, I'm going to teach you how to make a French Kiss. To your shaker tin you will first add 1 ounce of gin. Gin because of its botanicals was actually believed to be a bit of an aphrodisiac, and back in the day gin was even prescribed to increase a man's sperm count. Next, add 1/2 an ounce of St. Germain, and then the juice of 1/2 a squeezed lemon. Add a handful of fresh raspberries and muddle the berries in the shaker. After that add ice, seal your shaker, and shake it twenty-six times. Use a strainer to pour the mixture right into a champagne glass. Open a bottle of champagne and top the drink off with the champagne. Garnish with a lemon twist. Top it off with a fresh raspberry. Enjoy your French Kiss. I know I enjoyed my French Kiss with Jeanne."

### Chapter 8: Between The Sheets

Jeanne pulled her clothes on quickly while she watched Dantalion walk slowly away from her with his back turned. She blushed as she realized that he'd just seen her naked. He hadn't seemed all that affected by it either. Well, except for the hard flesh that had been pressing against her core. Had that been his penis? Jeanne wondered. Was it normal for it to be so long and hard? She gulped, her throat feeling dry.

This handsome demon man...he aroused her. Made her feel like a normal woman, and not God's Chosen Warrior.

And for a demon he was acting like quite the gentleman. He'd only kissed her and touched her a little bit, and hadn't tried to have more. Even though...for the first time in her life she'd _wanted_ more. Wanted to find out what sex was like with this demon man who should have terrified her, but who did not. In fact, she'd never felt safer than when in Dantalion's arms. She'd felt warm and protected.

Dantalion had stopped touching her, and claimed that what they were doing was a 'sin'. That was a strange thing for a demon to say. But Dantalion was definitely an odd demon. A demon aware of 'sin' and trying to do 'good'. Did he even realize it himself? Jeanne wondered. He'd called himself a 'demon' and a 'monster', and there had been shame in his tone. But now they had a mission to worry about. A purpose greater than themselves and that was to stop the Apocalypse. There had been enough bloodshed and it was wearing Jeanne's nerves raw lately.

Jeanne had started hearing voices...and they weren't the good kind either. She finished dressing and jogged over to Dantalion's side. He didn't look at her as they made their way through the forest and towards the riverbank. A pile of freshly caught trout was sitting on the sandy bank. Jeanne couldn't help but be impressed that Dantalion had managed to capture so many fish and without a fishing pole.

"How did you manage to catch so many fish?" Jeanne asked curiously as she took in the view of the river before her. The sun was high in the sky at that point, and the sun's rays were playing on the surface of the river making it appear molten. The way the water was glittering was stunning. But that river was as dangerous as it was beautiful and had nearly killed Jeanne and Dantalion. Life was full of contradictions. Mother Nature was the biggest one. She could be so beautiful and yet merciless and savage. The sky was clear and the air was fresh. She took a deep breath savoring the taste and the moment.

Dantalion raised one of his clawed hands that still had blood on it in answer.

"Ah." Jeanne nodded.

Dantalion was trying not to look at Jeanne. The sun was caressing her hair and skin, and making it glow. The demon concentrated on preparing a fire and soon the trout were roasting on sticks. Dantalion and Jeanne sat across from each other with the fire in between them. As Jeanne peered at Dantalion through the flickering flames she could imagine him being surrounded by hellfire, but still thought the angelic man looked out of place.

"Tell me about Hell." Jeanne said softly.

Dantalion looked up and gave Jeanne a surprised look. "What do you wish to know?"

"Well...I still have a hard time picturing Hell having Lords and Ladies." Jeanne gave Dantalion a bemused look.

"Ah." Dantalion smiled ruefully, "Well, some demons like to act human. They live in castles, give themselves titles like: King, Queen, Lord, Lady, Duke, Prince, and Princess. They have finery such as nice furniture, expensive clothes, servants and butlers. Though the servants are usually lesser demons or minions that don't appear very human. You would probably consider them monsters or beasts.

"The she-demons like jewelry: gold, silver, and precious jewels. The demon men usually collect weapons of all kinds. Only those 'blessed' by Lucifer get to live like this however. Most damned souls are being punished in the fire pits or tortured by demons. The Lords and Ladies of Hell are the ones in charge of Lucifer's armies. They are his loyal servants and do his bidding."

Jeanne nibbled on her fish thoughtfully. "What do demons eat?"

Dantalion's lips thinned, and his expression turned grim. "Are you sure you wish to know? You could end up losing your appetite."

Jeanne met his eyes and held his stare. "Tell me."

"Well, some demons eat humans - drink their blood, eat their flesh. While others consume human souls. Some demons are simply sustained by the atmosphere of the place, or human emotions of suffering like fear, anger, pain and hopelessness."

Jeanne had grown pale as she listened to Dantalion's revelation. "And what do you eat?" She held her breath as she awaited the demon's answer.

Dantalion met her eyes, "The darkest of human emotions sustains me - fear. This is my curse. I mean, my blessing." Dantalion frowned at the odd slipup. "Usually a battle against humans can sustain me with enough fear that I don't need sustenance for centuries."

"Have you ever eaten a human soul?" Jeanne asked offhandedly as she tossed the now empty stick aside and reached for another fish.

Dante was glad to see he hadn't ruined Jeanne's appetite. In fact, he was amused by how ravenous she seemed. "No."

"Drank a human's blood?" She prodded and there was an odd teasing note to her voice now.

"No. I am a warrior of Hell. I fight Lucifer's enemies and kill them. That is all. No women. No kids. That's my creed." The demon explained firmly.

"Are there more demons like you that only live off of human emotions?" Jeanne leaned forward with an intent look on her face.

Dantalion opened his mouth, closed it, and thought about her question for a moment longer. "Incubus and Succubus...are demons that can survive by consuming a human's sexual energy. They come to Earth, seduce humans, and have sex with them. I have heard of several cases where they don't kill the humans. Half-breed children are a common result of this union. These humans usually turn out to be sexual deviants, and degenerates of society. But it's not really their fault. They are slaves to their flesh and sexual desires because of their mixed blood. It consumes them."

Jeanne's eyes widened. "Fascinating. Though I don't know if making allies with Incubus and Succubus would be the best way to go about things." She tapped her chin and hummed in thought.

Dantalion raised an eyebrow at Jeanne, "Allies?"

"Yes, to end the war - the Apocalypse. Demons and Humans must band together." Jeanne said simply.

Dantalion let out a bark of laughter. "What an absurd notion, but...perhaps you're right. Though I don't think the Incubi and Succubi would go for it. They still feel superior to lowly humans."

"Most demons see humans as food then? Like how humans view cows? Or chickens?" Jeanne asked with a curious glint in her eyes.

Dantalion nodded, amused by her comparison. "An interesting way of putting it but yes. You are food."

"And you don't want to eat me?" Jeanne asked, a teasing note to her voice again.

_The tempting little morsel. I can't believe she's actually teasing me._ Dantalion smiled, his golden eyes glittered, and he licked his lips. "Oh yes, I would like to _eat_ you. I find you very appetizing."

Jeanne watched as Dantalion licked his lower lip and shivered. "Sure you're not an Incubus?"

Dantalion chuckled. "Most certain."

Jeanne raised an eyebrow at the demon. "What kind of demon are you then?"

"I...believe I am a demon of fear but..." Dantalion trailed off as a dark cloud fell over his face.

"But?" Jeanne prodded.

"My hunger does not rule my life. There are other things I enjoy doing besides worrying about my next meal." He began in an almost hesitant manner.

"Oh, like what?" Jeanne was unconsciously leaning forward again, trying to get closer to the interesting demon man in front of her.

"I enjoy making furniture. Creating. Painting. Inventing. Studying all arts and sciences. Philosophizing. Reading. I'm good with my hands and my mind." Dantalion revealed and held his breath as he awaited Jeanne's response. He'd never told anyone of his secret passions.

Jeanne looked down at Dantalion's powerful, calloused hands and noted that his claws had receded. "Yes, I bet you are." She gulped. "I'll have to get you to build me something sometime." A smile brightened her expression.

Dantalion let out a sigh of relief. This woman accepted him for who he was. The good with the bad apparently. It was truly amazing. He stood up abruptly when the conflicting emotions that were suddenly swirling inside of him became too much to bear. "I'm going to go and head on over to the village now and acquire some suitable clothing for you. I will not return you to your army looking like...that." Just the thought of Jeanne's men seeing her half-naked made Dantalion's blood boil.

Jeanne was disappointed by how Dantalion had abruptly decided to end their conversation, but nodded. She could tell that he was pulling away from her. "Alright. I'll wait for you here."

Dantalion gave Jeanne a double take at her words before two leathery, dragon-like wings with claws on their tips emerged from Dantalion's back. With a flap of his wings he took off into the sky and flew towards the human village. Jeanne watched him go and wondered why she didn't find his wings hideous but instead them found them utterly captivating.

_How could something so beautiful be evil?_ Jeanne nibbled on another fish as she waited for him to return. _Dantalion._ She'd never met anyone so fascinating. Jeanne lay down on her back on the riverbank and looked up at the clear blue sky. Fluffy white clouds were lazily drifting past. He'd saved her _again._ Her heart was still beating a mile a minute from just being in his mere presence. Jeanne put a hand over her heart. _This feeling inside of me...could it be love? Have I fallen in love with him? I've never felt this way before._

Twenty minutes later, Dantalion returned with new clothes for Jeanne. He handed her a simple white blouse made out of a thick, cotton material, a pair of black, leather pants and a new pair of leather boots. The clothes and boots were exactly her size.

Jeanne was almost surprised that Dantalion hadn't purchased her a dress. She dressed while Dantalion kept his back to her, again acting like a gentleman. It made her smile. "How come you brought me pants instead of a dress?"

"Would you prefer a dress? I can go get one." He offered.

"No. I prefer pants." Jeanne said as she pulled on the nice pair of soft leather pants.

"Good." Dante swallowed. He could hear the sound of clothing being taken off and put on, and it was making him nervous.

"In Hell are women allowed to wear pants?" Jeanne questioned as she pulled the shirt on over her head next.

Dantalion chuckled. "In Hell there are no rules. In Hell the she-demons wear whatever they wish! Sometimes nothing at all."

Jeanne blushed at the idea. "Oh."

"Sometimes they wear nothing but coils of live snakes." Dante began to visualize the she-demons in his mind. "Others wear outfits made out of human bones or animal skins. Other times they wear silk gowns and look almost human. Sometimes they wear pants."

Jeanne frowned. She could tell that Dantalion was picturing these she-demons in his mind and felt jealous for some reason. "That sounds nice."

Dantalion noted the wistful tinge to Jeanne's voice. "Excuse me?"

"The fact that they have _freedom_." Jeanne was quick to explain. At first she'd been happy and honored to serve God. But then as the reality of her purpose began to sink in...the more lives she'd been forced to take, the more blood that stained her hands and sword, she began to question if this was truly what she wanted to do after all. She'd started to feel trapped by her responsibilities. But then perhaps all this was a test.

"No one in Hell is free. We're all Lucifer's slaves." _Even me._ The demon said darkly.

"I see." _You are Lucifer's slave and I am God's slave. We're not so different, you and I, Dantalion._ "You can turn around now." She informed him.

Dantalion turned around and stared at Jeanne for a moment before he returned to the cave to fetch his sword, and armor. He quickly strapped his armor back on and lamented the loss of his cape. Once he and Jeanne were ready to go, Dantalion whistled by putting two fingers in his mouth.

Jeanne tilted her head at him. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see." His expression was smug.

The clopping sound of approaching horses was heard next. A moment later, Jeanne's white horse and Dantalion's black steed were emerging through the forest and approaching them.

Jeanne's eyes sparkled in amazement. "You called them here? You can speak to animals?"

Dantalion nodded.

Jeanne smiled brightly. "That's amazing, Dantalion." She praised before she mounted her horse effortlessly.

_Amazing._ Happiness flooded through Dantalion's chest. A strange, foreign emotion that he hadn't felt for hundreds - thousands - of years. The demon Duke mounted his horse. "Follow me." Dantalion kicked his horse into action and led the way through the forest towards Jeanne's human army. He could smell them. "Tell your army to halt their attack upon my army, and I will tell my men to do the same. Then I will go to Hell, speak with Lucifer, and see if I can't convince him to stop this war."

"Alright. Consider it done." Jeanne said as she squeezed her legs around her horse's sides so that it trotted up next to Dantalion's horse. "There's no way I can go with you?"

Dantalion's head snapped in her direction. He gaped at her in awe. This brave woman was willing to travel into Hell with him. Incredible. "No. It would be much too dangerous."

Jeanne pouted but she trusted Dantalion's judgment. "Very well."

Dantalion stopped his horse just outside the edge of the human camp. "I will leave you here. It might not look good if we approach together. This is where I leave you, Jeanne. I shall return to my army and speak with them." There was no response. "Jeanne?" Dantalion turned his head to look behind him.

But Jeanne had ridden up right next to him. She reached out, grabbed the back of Dantalion's head before he could protest, and brought him forward into a heated kiss. Dantalion groaned against her as their lips met, and was tempted to deepen their kiss, but he remembered just where they were and he did not want to put Jeanne's virtue in question. Reluctantly, he pulled away from her. His lips were on fire. "I shall return." His golden eyes were gleaming with passion and his voice was rough.

"Do hurry." Jeanne said in a husky voice before she kicked her horse. "Hyah!" And rode into her army's camp.

Little did the couple know that hidden in the trees stood Gilles de Rais. He'd been watching Jeanne and Dantalion kiss the entire time. "Demon's whore." He spat in disgust. "Wait till the others learn of this." A cruel smile curled his lips. If he couldn't have Jeanne d'Arc - no one could.

As Jeanne entered her camp her men greeted her happily. "Jeanne!" "Jeanne you're alive!" "Jeanne the Maid has returned! Praise the Lord!"

Dantalion turned his horse away as he heard the cries, and headed in the direction of his own army that was camped a few miles away. He galloped into the center of his legion's camp and immediately all eyes were upon him and filled with expectation.

"Duke Dantalion!" "My Duke!" "Dantalion! You're alright!"

Dantalion raised a hand for silence. "Hear me, comrades, this battle is to be..." He wanted to say 'halted' or 'finished' but didn't want to create an uproar among the demons. "Postponed. I need to speak to Lucifer about something important before we can continue this battle. Therefore, I forbid you to attack the humans until I return. Is that understood?" His eyes glittered dangerously. They could hear the unspoken threat and danger in his voice.

The demons all shared confused, fearful and quizzical looks. But they knew that to disobey Dantalion was the same as asking him to chop off their head. One by one they agreed to their Duke's order. Some out of respect, others out of fear. "Understood!" "Yes, my Duke!" "It shall be done as you ask, my Duke!"

Dantalion smiled and nodded, looking pleased with himself. _Good._ The first part of his promise to Jeanne had been kept. Now he needed to return to Hell and speak with Lucifer. Dantalion bathed, redressed, and put on his newly polished armor as he prepared for his return trip to Hell. His demons had polished his armor so thoroughly he could see his own reflection upon it. After that he rode his steed to a hill where there was a group of tall, gray, flat stones. The large flat stone that was in the center was bathed in a red and black glow and exuded malevolence. Dantalion rode straight for the stone and rode right through it. The stone acted as a portal to Hell and he was transported there instantly.

Dantalion exited out onto a barren expanse of dry, cracked land. This area of Hell resembled a human desert. The heat was sweltering, burning, blistering. The horrible scent of sulfur, rotting flesh, and decay filled his nostrils causing him to gag. He'd gotten used to the smell of fresh air, damp earth and dew-covered grass. The foul smell was almost overwhelming, and tall orange-red flames could be seen in the distance.

Dantalion kicked his steed's sides and took off towards the flames that towered fifty-feet high. Lucifer lived in a palace concealed by the flames and that was made out of polished, black, volcanic rock - obsidian. The palace was fireproof.

Dantalion approached the wall of fire. Lesser demons and minions would be burned to a crisp instantly if they entered the powerful flames without Lucifer's permission. But Dantalion was no lesser demon and used his aura to shield himself and his horse as he simply rode through the flames and approached the palace.

Lucifer's palace was enormous. Its walls, spiked towers and twisted spires of obsidian gleamed and reflected the flames eerily. The towers and spires were so tall they seemed to reach the red-tinged sky. Tall, thin rectangular-shaped windows could be seen on the castle walls. They were perfect for firing arrows down at enemies.

There was a moat of bubbling lava around the palace. At Dantalion's approach the drawbridge was lowered and the demon Duke continued his way across, the wood of the bridge vibrating slightly as his horse's heavy hooves hit the surface. The front iron gate was raised and Dantalion rode straight into the courtyard. He dismounted from his steed, gave the reins to a lesser demon without saying a word of thanks, and continued his way to the front door.

The doors were opened for him by more of Lucifer's minions and Dantalion ignored them as he made his way to the throne room. More doors were opened for Dantalion automatically until he was finally entering Lucifer's throne room. Seated upon a huge obsidian throne with a high back and that was decorated with dragon horns was King Lucifer - the Supreme Ruler of Hell. Once known as the Archangel Lucifer.

Legends, folktales, and paintings often depicted Lucifer as a hideous monster with red skin, black horns, a tail, and furred legs that ended in hooves. He was supposed to be a half-bull, half-man monstrosity with glowing, red eyes.

But the reality was that Lucifer was beautiful. Handsome. He had long, flowing golden hair that reached his waist, and bright, blue eyes the color of the sky on Earth. His skin was a tan, golden color. Lucifer was gigantic at six-eight. He had a warrior's physique and was even more muscular than Dantalion. His features almost would have been feminine if it weren't for the rope after rope of hard muscle that made up the man's impressive torso. The demon king had bulging biceps and thigh muscles to match. Power, strength, and confidence radiated off of him in waves.

If Lucifer had been dressed in white he would have looked like an angel. But as it was he was dressed from head to toe in black leather and gleaming, black iron armor with dangerous looking spikes on it that Lucifer had probably harvested from the dragons he'd killed. A deadly looking great sword was strapped to his side. He was reclining upon his throne easily with a jeweled goblet of what Dantalion _hoped_ was wine in his hand. His eyes twinkled for a moment when he spotted his best friend, Dantalion.

"Dantalion," He said with fondness in his tone before his expression suddenly hardened. _Why is he back so soon?_

"My King," Dantalion strode forward and knelt before Lucifer, bowing his head humbly.

"Rise." Lucifer said with an impatient wave of his hand. "And haven't I told you before, to simply call me Lucifer. We _are_ friends, are we not?"

Dantalion stood up and smiled. "Yes, of course, Lucifer."

Lucifer swirled the wine in his goblet thoughtfully. "Why have you returned so soon? Have you managed to defeat God's army so quickly? Did you kill Jeanne d'Arc?" Lucifer raised an expectant eyebrow at his friend and ran his tongue over his teeth. If Jeanne was dead...

A scowl darkened Dantalion's expression. So...Lucifer _had_ known God's Chosen Warrior was a woman. "Lucifer...you know of my creed. No women. No kids. And yet...you believed I would still kill Jeanne?"

Lucifer's blue eyes narrowed into slits. "Indeed I did because she is our enemy, Dantalion. God's Chosen Warrior. All that stands in _our_ way for Earthly domination! She must be destroyed!" Lucifer spread his arms out to his sides causing wine to splash out of his goblet and onto the floor.

Dantalion noted that it was as red as blood. It probably was blood. Human blood. Something burned hotly inside of Dantalion at Lucifer's words. Dantalion licked his lips and tried to keep his temper in check. _Destroyed?_ Dantalion's blood boiled at the mere suggestion. He would allow no one to harm Jeanne d'Arc! She belonged to him. _She's mine!_

"I will _not_ kill her." He rumbled.

Lucifer's eyes widened and his surprise was obvious. "You won't? Then I'll just get someone else to kill her then, Dantalion. How about that?" Already Lucifer was sending a psychic message to Lilith to go to Earth and see that the job was carried out. _Lilith, my sweet, I have a job for you..._

"No!" Dantalion roared, "No one is to harm her! She is mine!"

"Yours?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow at Dantalion and then he laughed. It was a hollow sound. "Ah, you've fallen in love with her. How quaint." It was not a question and Lucifer's tone was patronizing.

"Love?" Dantalion spoke aloud. _Am I capable of such an emotion? Lucifer seems to think so. Am I truly in love with Jeanne?_ He shook his head. "That...is unimportant. What is important is...I want you to stop this foolishness, Lucifer!"

"Foolishness?" Lucifer's tone had taken a dangerous edge. "To what foolishness are you referring to exactly, my _friend_?"

"This war. The Apocalypse. Your plan to conquer Earth! It's...ludicrous. Ridiculous. Pointless. Demons belong in Hell. Humans on Earth. And Angels in Heaven. That is the way of the universe. Its balance. Peace. This delicate balance between the worlds should _not_ be disturbed. The way things are now is...perfect. Why should things change? We don't need the Earth, Lucifer..." Dantalion explained and willed Lucifer to understand, to see the light. The whole war on Earth had just felt...wrong all the way down to his bones.

Lucifer was looking at Dantalion as if he'd grown a second head. There was a flash of hurt in Lucifer's eyes but it was gone almost instantly. "Let me get this straight, Dantalion. You want me to stop the Apocalypse because you desire _peace_ between the three worlds?" Lucifer's voice was dripping with skepticism.

"Yes." Dantalion nodded, his tone firm.

"Peace?" Lucifer threw his head back and laughed maniacally. "Well, I hate to break it to you Dantalion but _I_ do _not_ desire peace. Besides, there hasn't been _peace_ in the three worlds for hundreds - thousands - of years! The current peace is just an illusion. The war between good and evil is already being fought. In fact, it is being fought everyday as God and I struggle to claim as many human souls as possible for our own. This war...the Apocalypse is about my _revenge_ against God! It is about claiming victory!"

"Your revenge?" Dantalion frowned.

"Yes, don't you remember?" Lucifer drawled cruelly. "Ah, yes, of course, you don't because _I_ have your memories! Memories that you told me to hang onto for you. But I was once the right-hand of God, one of his most trusted bodyguards, his most beloved Archangel. I was forced to serve, obey, and protect him, but then I realized...why should I? Why should I obey? Serve? Protect? Why couldn't God obey _me_? Weren't we equals?

"No! God viewed me as being below him because he created me! I wanted to prove to God that I was his equal. That's why I staged a rebellion and attacked the Heavens with a third of the Archangels behind me. Alas, my men and I were defeated, and cast from Heaven and into Hell. Some humans seem to think I was banished to the Earth but that's not exactly accurate. Though my hold upon the Earth is stronger than it was in Heaven.

"Hell...this place disgusts me. But I have embraced 'evil' in order to gain power. It is a necessary power that I need in order to defeat God, nothing more. There was simply no other way. Really, Dantalion, you should be embracing 'evil' with me if you hope to gain more strength. Think of how powerful you could become. Break your creed...and then you shall taste true power!"

Dantalion clenched his fists at his sides. Now Lucifer was temping _him_. _The bastard._ "No fucking way."

Lucifer shrugged. "Suit yourself. For thousands of years I have been gathering my strength, and creating an army of demons. Tempting humans to become demons. The one with more souls - wins, Dantalion! The war between Good and Evil is already being fought and yet the inferior humans don't even know it! I tempt humans into sin daily. I'm the little voice inside of their heads that is telling them to do bad things. And they love it. They think that they are the ones deciding to do those things, but they are merely following _my_ will. They are my pawns.

"Of course a human's conscience is God's voice and God uses that voice to try to stop humans from doing evil things, but...God's voice is harder to listen to than mine. And that is because humans are weak because of their _flesh._ Their _flesh_ makes them easy to tempt and sway. For example, they cannot survive without food. To buy food they need money. To procure money they might be forced to rob, cheat, steal, and kill. I encourage that. I want them to choose the easy way rather than the righteous way to get that money, which would be through hard work."

_God's voice? Do I hear God's voice? No, that would be impossible._ Dantalion frowned at his strange thoughts.

"Also, humans draw pleasure from sex. That's why I encourage promiscuity. This is just the beginning, Dantalion, but soon the humans will start having sex not for love, but for fun, and merely pleasure. In this manner, I will destroy the family unit. People who are all on their own are even easier to tempt and sway. Every time a human gives into that temptation...the temptation to fornicate, kill, steal, lie - I win. I get their soul when they die, and I get more powerful." Lucifer smiled to himself at the thought.

It made Dantalion feel like raining on Lucifer's parade. "I thought you only got their soul if they didn't repent in the name of God's son Jesus Christ?" Dantalion drawled casually.

Lucifer's eyes flickered with angry fire. "How dare you say his name in my presence! But...it doesn't matter. Jesus exists as a way for the redemption of the humans, but not the fallen angels or demons, Dantalion. Did you know that several fallen angels thought that God would forgive them? They thought that after one thousand two hundred days God would allow them back into Heaven. These fallen angels were deceived in this notion however. Presently, these pathetic demons await their chance for forgiveness...and so when witches and warlocks summon them to the Earth they try and help the humans to the best of their abilities. They do not betray the summoners in the hope that God will see this. But it's a futile effort really, God will never forgive his fallen angels. And do you want to know why that is?"

Dantalion swallowed, his throat was suddenly feeling rather dry. "Why?"

"Because unlike the humans that have to find God through faith and are allowed to doubt that which they do not see...we knew God personally. We basked in his love and his glory directly and yet we still decided to turn against him. We knew what we were getting ourselves into. This is the greatest sin of all. Forgiveness is not an option for us, Dantalion. We chose this path...and there is no turning back."

"I know." Dantalion said through gritted teeth. _Is Lucifer implying that I might be a fallen angel? Or is he playing with me? If I am a damned human soul...I might have the chance for redemption. And if I am a damned fallen angel...then I have no chance for redemption. I'm sure Lucifer only wants me to believe that which will hurt me more._

"I've been tempting Jeanne's army, you know? They're not so pure." Lucifer cackled merrily. "They kill on a daily basis and several desire Jeanne d'Arc's body. I've entered their dreams and seen them take her...some willingly and others by force."

Dantalion's nails pierced his palms and blood began to trickle down onto the floor. _Those bastards...if any of them dare to touch Jeanne...they will die a slow, painful death._

Lucifer smiled as he watched Dantalion's blood drip down onto the floor. "The humans are weak, Dantalion. Slaves to their _flesh._ Imperfect. _Someone_ needs to control them. Can't you see that they cannot handle having free will? God made a mistake with that one. As long as human beings have free will there will always be evil upon the Earth! There will always be war, murders, rape!"

"Just as God made the mistake of giving _you_ free will apparently." Dantalion found himself saying before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth.

A muscle ticked below Lucifer's eye. "Dantalion, my friend. Do not push me." Lucifer's hand tightened around the goblet until he ended up bending it out of shape. Lucifer sighed and tossed the now useless goblet aside.

"Lucifer, stop this war. I was there on Earth. It was beautiful. Calm. Peaceful." Dantalion began to explain haltingly.

"Ha! As I've already explained that 'peace' is nothing but an illusion! You have no idea how many humans are killing each other upon the Earth as we speak. Right this very second there are humans who are lying to each other, hurting each other, and stealing from each other! Some do these deeds in God's name. The Earth _is_ hell disguised as heaven!"

Dantalion shook his head as he remembered how Jeanne had saved his life. "No! There is...hope. But if demons roam the Earth things will be even worse. There will be even more violence and killing and chaos!"

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. "Only in the beginning as the humans resist my control. But once I have conquered the Earth there _will_ be peace, Dantalion. My way will be proven to be better than God's way. I guarantee it!" He reached his arms out towards Dantalion, willing him to understand.

"Peace but no free will? Am I correct?" Dantalion's eyes narrowed at his friend. If there was no free will then Jeanne could not choose to love him. He could force her to love him, yes, but...that would be wrong. Love was the only redeeming quality of humanity. Take their freedom to love away from them and there would be nothing left worth saving.

"A small price to pay," Lucifer flicked his wrist, "Don't you think? Join me, Dantalion. I'll even let you be in control of the lives of the humans, if you wish. I'd allow you to control all of them. You could make the world as you wish it. I trust your judgment. You could even force Jeanne the Maid to love a demon like you!"

_Force_ Jeanne to love him? A hideous thought. The thought sickened him and bile rose up in his throat. Jeanne was beautiful, desirable because she was free. Freedom. Didn't Jeanne say she craved that? Even Dantalion himself lacked freedom. He was Lucifer's commander - his Duke. But no more. "I will do no such thing. I would not take away her freedom."

Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I believe we are at an impasse, Dantalion. You won't convince me and I won't convince you. Therefore...how about this. Fight me. And if you win...I will end the Apocalypse." _For now._ "And if you lose you must obey me, continue with the Apocalypse, and kill Jeanne d'Arc."

Dantalion nodded. As much as he didn't want to fight his friend it appeared as though there was no other way. Lucifer stood up from his throne and unsheathed his black iron great sword, and pointed it at Dantalion. Lucifer's sword was similar in design to Dantalion's in that its hilt was composed of two dragon wings, but the pommel had been fashioned to resemble a dragon's open maw. Dantalion unsheathed his sword and held it before him.

"I think you need a little reminder about who is in charge of Hell, my friend!" Lucifer pronounced as he rushed forward and attacked Dantalion.

Dantalion raised his sword and blocked Lucifer's attacks with ease. He'd sparred with Lucifer before, but this time they were both serious and out for blood. Their massive swords clashed and sent powerful shockwaves through the throne room causing the walls and floor to vibrate. Their fierce auras of demonic power flared up around them like flames that were licking their skin. Dantalion's aura was a fierce red and Lucifer's was a golden color.

Dantalion briefly wondered about that. As far back as he could remember...he recalled that he used to have golden hair too at one point and his aura had also been golden, but the longer he lived and fought in Hell his hair had turned black and his aura had changed to a pulsing red. How had Lucifer kept his original hair and eye color? And why had he kept it like that? Vanity?

Dantalion knew his friend cared about his appearance. He'd caught Lucifer staring into a hand mirror before. His wings were even white and feathery. Did Lucifer think Dantalion was ugly? Did he find his dragon-like wings hideous? It was a strange thought to have but the Supreme Ruler of Hell probably found its inhabitants 'ugly' and 'unworthy'. After all Lucifer became enraged anytime he saw how the humans depicted him as this red-skinned monster with hooves, like a mindless beast. Lucifer would go into a rage for days afterwards, and destroy demon after demon until his bloodlust was finally sated.

Was Lucifer's vanity a weakness? Dantalion wondered hopefully.

Lucifer summoned his wings and two white, feathery wings emerged from his back. He flew towards Dantalion at top speed, swung his sword, and unleashed an energy attack Dantalion's way.

Dantalion was forced to dodge and roll out of the way. _Two can play at that game._ Dantalion summoned his own wings and two black, leathery wings emerged from his back. With a flap of his wings he rose up into the air. He flew towards Lucifer, swung his sword, and unleashed an energy attack of his own.

Lucifer swung his sword again and unleashed a powerful, golden-tinged energy attack. The two attacks collided in midair. _Boom_.

Dantalion flew forward using the overwhelming brightness of the two colliding attacks to shield him from view. In an instant he was suddenly in front of Lucifer and jabbing his sword forward at Lucifer's head.

Lucifer brought his sword up quickly to deflect the blow and tilted his head to the side. Dantalion's sword sliced into the side of Lucifer's face and drew blood. Lucifer's eyes narrowed into angry slits. He was furious.

Dantalion smiled triumphantly. "I'm sorry. You don't think it will scar, do you?" He apologized but the demon Duke did not sound truly repentant at all.

_Scar?_ Lucifer reached up, touched the cut on the side of his face, and his eyes widened in disbelief. Dantalion felt the thrill of fear that passed through Lucifer momentarily. But just a tiny bit of Lucifer's fear provided Dantalion with tons of demonic energy. Dantalion breathed in deep, soaking in Lucifer's fear and relishing every moment of it. It wasn't often that Lucifer ever felt fear.

Horns sprouted out of the top of Dantalion's head, his incisors lengthened, his nails turned into claws of their own accord, and his red aura flared even more powerfully around him. He could feel demonic power and energy pumping through his veins at a rapid pace. It was incredible. He attacked Lucifer again and sent another energy attack the demon King's way.

Lucifer raised his sword to block the attack and was unable to. The attack hit Lucifer and he was sent flying backwards into his own obsidian throne that cracked into two pieces upon the powerful impact. Lucifer was sent sprawling to the floor and landed on top of one of the two pieces of his broken throne. He sat up, and dark spots swam in his vision as he struggled to remain conscious.

Lucifer couldn't believe this...since when had Dantalion gotten so powerful? Lucifer didn't like 'dirtying' his own hands by slaying his enemies himself, and so had gotten into the habit of just sending Dantalion to take care of his enemies for him. Dantalion had fought thousands of battles in his stead. Had this made the demon Duke more powerful than he was? _Shit._ He'd underestimated Dantalion. Lucifer blinked and felt a sword pressing against his throat.

Dantalion was smiling down at Lucifer, and was obviously happy, elated even. "I won." He said with a tinge of surprise in his voice.

Lucifer moved Dantalion's sword away from his throat with the tip of his index finger. He knew Dantalion would never actually slay him. Dantalion considered him to be his 'best friend'. The demon Duke had once given up everything for Lucifer.

This undying loyalty was one of Dantalion's weaknesses that Lucifer knew how to exploit however. Lucifer smiled back at his friend even though he was absolutely furious inside. "Indeed you did. Well done, Dantalion. I guess I have no choice but to stop my plans for the Apocalypse." _For the time being anyways. I don't have enough power left after that battle to hold the portal to Earth open for much longer. Let Dantalion think that he won._ He put his hands out in a helpless gesture.

Dantalion's smile widened and he offered Lucifer his hand to help him up. Lucifer took it and Dantalion helped him to stand. "You will?"

"Yes, you won, didn't you? Return to Earth...and stop your army. Bring your men back to Hell. Where they belong." A sly smile curled Lucifer's lips. _By the time you get there their purpose will have been fulfilled anyways._

Dantalion nodded. "Yes, my King." He bowed with his hand on top of his heart.

"And say goodbye to Jeanne the Maid for me." Lucifer put in and his expression turned amused, triumphant.

Dantalion's expression fell. _That's right. I'll have to take my army back to Hell to never return. I'm a demon. This is where I belong. I will have to say goodbye to Jeanne but...this is the way it has to be._ He was a demon and Jeanne was God's Chosen Warrior. They were star-crossed lovers. They could never be together.

"Yes. I will." Dantalion agreed before he turned on his heel.

"Ah, wait, before you go..." Lucifer's smile widened. "You must fix my throne and repair the damage you did to my throne room. Then you can go. It's only fair, I think. You owe me. And I'm being awfully generous."

"I..." Dantalion hesitated before he nodded and went to fetch his tools. He didn't really have much of a choice but to give into Lucifer's request. The demon King was correct - he was being generous with stopping the Apocalypse. He didn't want to risk Lucifer changing his mind either so he left the throne room without another word.

"Damn you, Dantalion!" Lucifer swore angrily as he dusted himself off. "Damn you...how dare you betray me? How dare you best me! But...never again." He closed his eyes and concentrated. He spoke telepathically to Lilith, Dantalion's fiancée, once more: _Lilith...have you reached Dantalion's army yet? Did you attack the human village as I ordered?_

_Oh, yes, my King. We have attacked and slaughtered everyone. By the time God's Chosen army shows up it will already be too late. In fact, they're about to arrive here...this should be fun._ Lilith's cackling laughter echoed through Lucifer's skull.

_Do you see God's Chosen Warrior?_ Lucifer ran his tongue over his teeth.

_Oh, yes, I see her. The sparkly gold bitch. Want me to kill her?_ Lilith sounded eager at the prospect.

Yes. Kill Jeanne d'Arc. Your fiancé Dantalion has fallen in love with her, by the way.

What?!

She must die.

Oh, she will. But she'll die slowly and painfully, my King.

As you wish. Tell the army to return to Hell when they're done. I must close the portal and regain my strength. After that has been accomplished I have a little surprise planned for Dantalion. He shall be left behind upon the Earth. Understand? Oh, and in case Jeanne escapes you must make sure that she knows that Dantalion betrayed her.

Yes, my King.

***

Jeanne stood inside of a tent within her army's camp with her usual comrades-in-arms: Gilles de Rais, John II of Alencon (aka 'le beau duc' or 'the gentle duke'), Jean d'Aulon (Jeanne's personal bodyguard), Jean de Dunois, and La Hire.

"So you're telling us 'God' told you the demons will cease their attack?" Gilles raised an eyebrow at Jeanne.

"Yes. Let's just...wait for now. We won't attack them as long as they don't attack us. Got it?" Jeanne said firmly, but she had her fingers crossed behind her back.

The warriors shrugged and gave each other helpless looks. "If you say so, Jeanne. We shall wait." Jean d'Aulon was quick to agree.

"You can't be serious? We should go to the demon camp and fight them!" Jean de Dunois insisted. "Try to catch them unawares. They're demons, Jeanne. We need not show them mercy. They're pure evil."

Gilles' dark eyes were boring into Jeanne almost accusingly and she flinched. "My sword wants to taste demon blood, Jeanne." Gilles growled angrily. "My sword wants to thrust in and out of their dead bodies!" An evil leer spread across his face at the thought.

"You're all acting worse than the demons!" Jeanne accused, narrowing her eyes at Gilles. There had always been something about the man that unsettled her. "We shall wait. You'll see, the demons will decide not to fight us and then we shall have true and everlasting peace."

"Because you say so, or because God says so?" Gilles challenged.

"B-Because God says so. You'll see." Jeanne stammered nervously with her fingers still crossed behind her back. _Dantalion...please hurry and stop this war. My soldiers are thirsty for the blood of their enemies and I do not know how long I can hold them back._

Jeanne knew she _had_ to believe in Dantalion. The peace of the entire world was at stake.

Three days passed and the demon army did not move against them. However, on the fourth day, a messenger rode into camp, eyes frantic, and covered in blood. "Jeanne! Where is Jeanne the Maid?"

Jeanne exited her tent, and spotted the messenger. "Here I am! What is it?"

"It's the village! The demons...they've burned it to the ground! They killed everyone!" The man burst out, tears streaming down his dust-covered face.

"W-What?" Jeanne's stomach plummeted, and the blood drained from her face. "Everyone? Even the women and children?" She asked slowly, dazed.

"Yes." The man said firmly, expression grim.

Jeanne felt like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet. _No. No, no, no._ Jeanne chanted in her mind. If the village had been attacked then that meant that Dantalion had betrayed her! Had he betrayed her? Sadness quickly shifted to righteous anger. If Dantalion _had_ chosen to betray her - he would pay.

"Ready my horse! Hurry! We shall ride to the village and face the demons! We will avenge the villagers in the name of God!" Jeanne called out to her army.

"Aye, aye, Jeanne!" Her men cried out in unison.

Jean d'Aulon quickly fetched Jeanne's horse and brought it over to her. Jeanne swung up onto the saddle, grabbed the reins, and waited for her men to mount their horses. Once she saw that everyone was ready and simply awaiting her command, she kicked her horse's sides. "Let's move out, men!"

"Aye!" The warriors agreed.

Jeanne took off at a gallop, heading for the village, and her men were hot on her heels. Her heart was hammering against the inside of her chest like a sledgehammer. She wondered what she would find when she got to the village. _Dantalion...!_

Jeanne could see black plumes of smoke rising in the distance. That's when she and her army emerged from the forest and the village came into view. "Dear God." The entire village had been burned to the ground, but that was not all. The heads of the slaughtered villagers had been cut off and stuck on the tops of the sharp, wooden poles that made up the fence that surrounded the entire village. It was a macabre sight.

Jeanne heard John throw up behind her. As she drew closer to the village she could clearly see that some of the human heads were the heads of women and their children. Jeanne's blood boiled in anger. Dantalion was a liar! He'd done this...monstrosity. He was a demon. A cold-blooded, dark-hearted murderer.

"Dantalion!" Jeanne roared as she charged the front entrance of the village and unsheathed her sword, a wild look in her bright green eyes. She would find Dantalion and kill him.

Jeanne rode right through the front gate, into the village, and down the main dirt road. She spotted a figure ahead of her. The figure's back was turned to her, but she saw a head of dark hair and a long billowing cape. That menacing presence had to be Dantalion. "Dantalion!" Jeanne shouted again, outraged.

The rider turned the horse around to face Jeanne to reveal that the rider was _not_ Dantalion, but the most stunning woman Jeanne had ever seen. Long, wavy, raven-black locks of hair cascaded down all around the woman's shoulders. She had ivory skin, a sloping nose, lips as red as rose petals, and eyes the color of polished steel. The female rider was wearing a black leather, lace-up corset, tight, black leather pants, knee boots with four-inch heels, and a long cape with a red lining. That cape was very similar to the cape Dantalion had worn. That's when Jeanne noticed the tiny little horns poking out of the woman's head. She was a demon.

_She's a demon._ Jeanne realized as she urged her horse closer. The she-demon smiled, revealing her pointed fangs, and there was blood dripping from her blade. "Where is Dantalion?" Jeanne demanded loudly.

The she-demon's gray eyes narrowed at Jeanne then, and she looked Jeanne over critically. The she-demon breathed in deep before seconds later a frown was marring her pretty face. Her steel eyes were glittering with malice. "I can smell him on you, whore. You must be Jeanne d'Arc."

A muscle beneath Jeanne's eye ticked and she let the insult pass. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

"I happen to be Dantalion's fiancée." The she-demon declared with a toss of her hair behind her shoulder. "Lilith is my name."

_Fiancée?_ Jeanne's heart turned to ice in her chest. This beautiful, exotic she-demon was Dantalion's fiancée? "Fiancée?" Jeanne shook her head. "Where is Dantalion?"

Lilith smiled again as she noted the sadness in Jeanne's eyes. "My love is busy at the moment. He has more important things to be doing than to be playing with you, Jeanne, and so he sent me to finish things. I'm here to kill you. Dantalion wants you dead, you see. You know about his creed, right? Well, he can't kill women or children. You fall into _both_ categories, I suppose, and that's why he asked, no, begged me to kill you for him!" Lilith cackled evilly with a hand upraised in front of her mouth.

Jeanne was shaking her head, not wanting to believe Lilith's cruel words. Dantalion had sent his fiancée Lilith to kill her? _No!_ She didn't want to believe it but...

Dantalion _was_ a demon. And demons were known for being deceptive. _I'm such a fool._

"Now die! Jeanne d'Arc!" Lilith suddenly cried as she twirled her sword over her head and charged towards Jeanne.

Jeanne's well-honed battle reflexes were all that saved her from the deathblow, so distracted was she by her tumultuous thoughts. Her sword seemed to rise of its own accord and she blocked the deadly swing of Lilith's sword. Their swords clashed viciously.

Jeanne returned her attention to her fierce opponent. After hearing of Dantalion's betrayal the last thing she felt like doing was fighting for her life. Instead she wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but...she wouldn't give Dantalion the satisfaction. _I will not cry._ Sadness was quickly shifting to anger. She couldn't afford to be sad. Sadness would make her weak. But anger...that would make her strong, powerful. It always had.

_Dantalion! How dare he betray me? How dare he toy with my emotions?_ She'd almost fallen in love with that evil demon. _No, I wasn't in love...that was temporary insanity! I will kill his evil fiancée who enjoys killing women and children, and then I will hunt him down and kill him next!_

"Argh!" Jeanne let out a battle cry and attacked Lilith more viciously and desperately than before. "Are you the one who killed them? Those innocent women and children!"

Lilith smiled and licked her blood-red lips. "Yes, I killed them. I also cut their heads off and put them on the fence. I believe it brightened this place up considerably. Wouldn't you agree?"

Jeanne gawked back at the she-demon in disbelief as she spoke as if she were talking about adding potted plants to a house. "How could you think that? How could you do something like that?"

"I _hate_ humans." The she-demon snarled. "So it was my pleasure." Lilith had been created to be Adam's first wife. But when she refused to lie below Adam during sexual intercourse, and he refused to have sex with her that way she was forced to leave the Garden of Eden. After that she'd encountered Samael, a handsome demon, who'd been kind to her and who became her lover. She spawned hundreds of half-demon children with him. Most of her children didn't look normal and had horns and superhuman strength. The humans hunted down and killed most of Lilith's children because of their difference. She would never forget that. To her this was simply settling the score.

After her death, her soul was damned to Hell where Lucifer had then rewarded Lilith for her evil ways by granting her power.

_She's evil. Pure evil._ Jeanne thought to herself as she let her righteous anger consume her. Her sword began to glow, pulse with a golden aura of power. "I will destroy you, you evil she-demon and avenge those poor children!" _Oh Dantalion, you promised me! You lied to me!_

Lilith raised an eyebrow at Jeanne and did not appear to be too concerned. "A mere human, defeat _me_? I don't think so. I'll be adding your pretty head to the fence next and then I'll show it to my beloved." The she-demon cackled shrilly.

Jeanne swung her sword at Lilith's head. The she-demon raised her sword to block the attack and smiled cruelly. "That won't work."

"Oh? It won't?" Jeanne challenged, pushing her sword against Lilith's with all her might and summoning her power. Her sword cut right through Lilith's sword, and before the demon could react Jeanne's sword was slicing into Lilith's neck.

"No, imposs-" Lilith croaked out as Jeanne cut her head off. Blood spurted from Lilith's severed neck. Jeanne had managed to defeat the immortal she-demon. But she didn't really feel happy about it. She felt...dirty somehow.

Lilith's spirit left her body and howled with rage and disbelief. Jeanne was unable to see or hear her though. A mere human female had killed her! Lilith! Adam's first wife! "Oh, you'll pay! You haven't seen the last of me, Jeanne the Maid! I curse you in this life and in the next! Wherever you are I will find you, make your life a living hell, and then kill you!" She flew off in search of a human woman she could possess. The vessel would have to be a medium and those were extremely rare however.

"Yea! Jeanne!" "Jeanne!" Her men cried out in triumph, their voices rising up all around her, and time that had seemed to slow down around Jeanne suddenly began to pick up speed again. Only seconds before it had felt like it was just Jeanne and Lilith fighting, and the rest of the world didn't exist. But now the rest of the world came back into focus full force.

Jeanne looked around and noted that her army was fighting against the demons and winning. The demons' cries of pain were filling the air but there were also the unmistakable cries of pain that were coming from her men. There was so much bloodshed. Demons and her knights were falling all around her. Jeanne knew that her army would win this battle, but God's army had taken a hard blow that day. She would have to speak to King Charles VII to send her more soldiers if she were to continue her divine purpose. She knew that the treaty with the English wouldn't last forever. Michael had told her so.

Jeanne was covered in blood from head to toe, and so were her men. Demon blood. Jeanne galloped down the dirt road, leaned over the side of her horse and reached down to grasp Lilith's head. She continued her way through the town while holding the demoness' head. "I have killed your leader! If you stay you shall meet the same fate! This battle is over!" Jeanne announced, rode over to the fence, and stuck Lilith's head on top of it in a gruesome manner.

"God's Chosen Warrior has defeated Lilith!" The demons all looked at Jeanne fearfully as if _she_ were a demon before they called a swift retreat. "She's too powerful. Retreat!"

Jeanne's men cheered loudly in response at the sight of the fleeing demons, and Jeanne smiled. Now she just needed to take Dantalion's head next. _Dantalion, your head will be mine!_

***

It had taken five days for Dantalion to finish repairing Lucifer's obsidian throne, and the damage he'd caused to the throne room itself. Now he was finally allowed to go back to Earth, gather his army, and say goodbye to Jeanne d'Arc.

The demon Duke strode out into the courtyard of Lucifer's palace. His horse was already tacked and waiting for him. A minion was currently holding the reins while waiting for Dantalion. Dantalion mounted his hellish steed, and took off towards the front gate. The gate was raised and Dantalion rode out across the moat. A smile tugged at his lips. Soon he would get to see Jeanne again, and he'd be able to tell her the good news. The Apocalypse was no more! He couldn't wait to see _his_ fierce beauty. _Mine._

Dantalion rode hard across the barren, rocky ground towards the portal Lucifer had opened to enable his army to be able to go to Earth. The circle of large flat stones and the larger center stone was a mirror image of the formation that was on Earth. Dantalion spotted the portal in the distance about a hundred yards away. But the center flat stone appeared...different. The portal appeared to be less stable since the red and black energy was no longer swirling perfectly but coils of energy were spinning off chaotically into the air.

A scowl formed on Dantalion's face. He wondered if the reason why the portal had weakened was because he'd just defeated Lucifer in battle. The portal was directly linked to Lucifer after all so it would make sense. Dantalion realized that he probably didn't have much time left. He would have to gather his army as quickly as possible and return to Hell before his demons were trapped upon the Earth. If his demons were trapped on Earth there would be no controlling them for long. Dantalion entered the portal and was instantly transported to the French countryside. Now all he had to do was find his army and then Jeanne.

Dantalion knew he should have searched out his army first, but his need to see Jeanne was greater. He rode through the circular formation of flat stones and ended up searching for Jeanne instead. He caught her unique scent of dew-laden grass and honeysuckles upon the wind and followed it. Dantalion found Jeanne in a field of wild flowers. There were hundreds of the white and yellow flowers swaying in the breeze. Jeanne was standing next to an enormous fig tree and had her back to him. Dantalion could see that she was holding her sword, but what was strange was that Jeanne wasn't dressed in her usual armor. Instead, Jeanne was wearing a beautiful, white, flowing dress. Dantalion's heart sped up at the sight of her. She looked angelic.

"Jeanne!" He rode up to her and dismounted from his horse, a wide grin on his face. "I have good news. I 'negotiated' with Lucifer and he agreed to stop the Apocalypse."

_Lies. Don't listen to his lies._ Jeanne thought.

"Jeanne? Look at me." Dantalion urged as he put a hand on her shoulder and spun her around to face him.

Her green eyes were cold and emotionless, shuttered. But Dantalion still sucked in a breath at her beauty. "Jeanne, what's wrong?" Dantalion asked concernedly when she still did not respond. Had something happened to her while he was away? Was she hurt?

Jeanne suddenly shoved him roughly up against the fig tree and in a blink she was kissing him.

Dantalion was surprised at first by her bold move, but quickly gave in to the kiss, eagerly kissing her back. She pressed her body up against his, and when he felt her soft breasts pressing against his rock hard chest he groaned into her mouth. Her nipples were hard. Jeanne reached down and stroked his swelling shaft through his pants.

Abruptly, she pulled back. "Are you aroused, demon?" She sneered. "Do you crave my flesh? You are truly... _disgusting_."

Dantalion was able to see the hate and disgust in Jeanne's green eyes now. Her emotions no longer hidden. "Jeanne?" Dantalion frowned at her words and his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" He tried again, his voice rough with lust.

"You were stupid to think that I ever desired you, demon." She spat. A heartbeat later, Jeanne smiled, but it was a smile completely devoid of warmth and happiness. It was cold, cruel, angry.

Dantalion gasped when he felt a sword pierce his stomach. Jeanne ran him through with her sword completely and pined him to the fig tree that was behind him. "I have you now, demon. There is no escape. You shall pay for your crimes." _I should take his head now that I have the chance._ Jeanne prepared to remove her sword from Dantalion's body so that she could decapitate him, but her body wasn't listening to her. She couldn't let go of her sword's hilt for some reason and her hands were beginning to tremble.

She stared into Dantalion's golden eyes that look shocked, hurt and betrayed. His expression hurt her in turn and her eyes burned. _What's wrong with me? Why can't I kill him? I must! I've been ordered by God to do so...but I just can't. I can't kill him. I won't!_

"Jeanne!" Dantalion began to struggle, but found that he was indeed unable to move. Was this because she'd impaled him with her sword to this holy fig tree? Had that worked as a kind of seal?

Jeanne let go of the sword's hilt and took a step back. "Michael!" She called out desperately at the top of her lungs.

There was a flash of bright light and there standing next to Jeanne was an impressive Archangel. He looked oddly familiar to Dantalion and his head throbbed as he tried to remember where he'd seen this man before. The Archangel had golden-brown eyes, wavy, shoulder-length, golden-blonde hair, a square jaw, a blade of a nose and sun-kissed skin. He was tall, and had the muscled body of a warrior. There was a sword strapped to his side.

Michael looked at Jeanne before his gaze fell upon Dantalion. The Archangel's eyes widened before they narrowed at the demon. "You did it. You managed to capture the demon, Jeanne." He sounded surprised.

Jeanne spun, putting her back to Dantalion now but not before he'd seen the tears in her eyes. "I told you this pathetic demon lusted after my flesh. He was easy to distract." She tried to sound nonchalant but her voice cracked.

Michael nodded, a hard look in his eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Take his head."

"I-" Jeanne paused, shook her head and wrapped her arms around her chest. "Death would be too good for him."

Michael gave Jeanne a scrutinizing look. "How about I put him into an eternal sleep. Since you've already managed to seal him to that tree that should be easy enough and he should be no threat after that." Michael suggested, and when Jeanne didn't stop him he raised his hands and began to chant a spell. He watched Jeanne out of the corner of his eyes, wondering if she would stop him. If she tried to stop him, he would probably stop even though it would mean that the wrath of God would be upon him. His hands glowed with a golden light. _I saw the way she looks at him. She's in love with this demon. She failed to kill him. I have to tell God. It is my duty._

Dantalion's hurt expression turned enraged. He couldn't understand why Jeanne was doing this. She was betraying him when he'd risked _everything_ for her: his friendship with Lucifer, his position in Hell and even his very life. _No!_ "Jeanne! Why are you doing this? Why are you betraying me?"

_You betrayed me first._ Jeanne thought to herself before turning her back to the demon. "Goodbye and good riddance, Dantalion." She sounded firm, cold, and perhaps she didn't realize it but tears were streaming down her cheeks.

It gave Dantalion a small hope. A doubt.

Michael watched Jeanne go with a warm look in his eyes. Dantalion noticed the possessive look in the Archangel's eyes. This Archangel was in love with Jeanne as well. _That bastard Archangel...he's going to separate me from Jeanne! If I could move I would take the head from his shoulders!_

The angel seemed to feel Dantalion's heated gaze upon him and turned to face the demon. "What are you looking at, demon?"

"Damn you, Michael! I won't forget this! I will have your head!" Dantalion roared as a series of leafy vines began to wrap around and cover his entire body. The vines even began to wind around his head until they blocked his vision, leaving him in darkness, and that's when his eyelids began to feel heavy. He tried to keep his eyes open, but his eyelids were like lead. His eyelids drooped, closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.

_To be continued in..._ Drink 9: Manhattan

Dantalion: "Good evening, inferior human, tonight I will be getting you between the sheets."

Reader: "Yay!"

Dantalion: "I mean, I'm going to tell you how to make the cocktail Between The Sheets. First, rim a martini glass with sugar. You can do that by grabbing a half a lemon and making a little notch in it with your knife. Apply that notch around the edge of the glass, and go as far down as you want the rim of sugar to go. It'd say about a centimeter or half a centimeter. Grab a bowl of sugar and rim the glass with sugar by rolling the glass in the sugar bowl. Begin building the cocktail in the shaker tin with 1 1/4 ounces of brandy, 1 ounce of white rum, and 1/2 an ounce of cointreau. Cut another lemon in half and juice one half of a lemon into the shaker. Finally, add 1/2 an ounce of simple syrup (an easy concoction to make by boiling water and adding sugar together in equal parts). After that add ice to the shaker tin, shake it twenty-six times, strain and pour into your sugar-rimmed cocktail glass. Garnish with a curl of lemon peel. Enjoy. I regret that I did not get Jeanne between the sheets before I was sealed away."

### 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 give a shit. 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 Goddamned 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, dammit! I should be able to protect myself, handle my own shit, 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 shit 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 schedule 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 shit 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 badass 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 fucked.

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 piss 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 pissing 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, assholes." 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 bitch!" "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, bitch. You know why we're here." Hoodie said in a dark tone.

"We're going to avenge the Boss, you smartass bitch!" 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 bitch! 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 fuck, man?" Gold Tooth demanded.

"Did that asshole 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 bastard move." Bandana popped his jaw in irritation.

"Bastard! 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 bastard 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._

"Fucking bitch!" 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 balls 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, asshole!" 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 bitch!" 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? "Damnation." 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 fucking 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 shit, 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. _Fuck._ 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 bastards 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 batshit 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, bitch!"

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?"

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 bastards 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 breasts pressing up against his rock hard chest. Her nipples were pearled and aching for him. 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 passion 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 Spirits.'_

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!"

### Chapter 10:Six Cycle

Dante watched Alan fall into a fitful sleep. He began to toss and turn, and his breathing became irregular. The demon realized that Alan was having a nightmare. He reached his hand out to wake Alan up, but...the fear that Alan began to feel while in the clutches of the nightmare began to crash through Dante, filling him with power.

Dante's horns sprouted out of his head, his incisors lengthened, and a red aura began to flare around him like flames. Dante pulled his hand back. He felt bad that Alan was feeling such intense fear caused by whatever he was dreaming about, but with the power Alan was providing him Dante would be able to use his magic to repair the pub.

This was the first time Dante had ever felt guilty for using a human's fear to gain power. Dante reached out and patted Alan's sweat-soaked brow. "I won't take long, Boss." The demon left Alan's bedroom and closed the door softly behind him. He made his way down the stairs and back into the pub.

Dante looked around, inspecting the damage that had been done to the pub. Several glass shelves behind the bar had been shattered. Two tables had been smashed to bits, and the front window had a huge gaping hole in it. Dante raised his hand towards the glass shelves first and summoned his demonic power. The broken shelves were bathed in a pulsing, red light and then the glass began to put itself back together. In seconds, the shelves had been restored. Pity the liquor would not return to the newly formed, empty liquor bottles. Dante shrugged, the empty bottles could be used to practice his flair bartending techniques.

Dante pointed his hand towards the smashed tables next. They were bathed in a red-tinged light and the broken tables began to put themselves back together. In a blink, the tables were whole once more. _Now for the front window._ Dante pointed his hand at the front window and concentrated on his power. The window flared brightly with red light and in seconds it was whole once more. Dante wiped his hands off together and looked pretty pleased with himself. The demon figured it would look extremely suspicious if he didn't have _any_ tools with him, however, so he used his power to summon a toolbox, several pieces of lumber, long sheets of glass, several cans of paint, brushes, turpentine, and plastic paint mixing trays.

The overall color theme of _Dullahan's_ was currently brown, green and yellow. Dante decided to give the entire pub a new paint job while he was empowered by Alan's nightmare. He would paint the brown tables black, the yellow accents would be painted gold, and the pale green accents would be changed to dark hunter-green. The front window and exterior of the pub would also need to be painted with this new color theme.

Dante got to work and with a wave of his hand the lids flew off the paint cans. With another wave of his hand brushes were lifting up off the floor and dipping themselves into the paint. A flick of his wrist sent the brushes on their way to start painting tables and wood paneling.

After the brushes set to work on the interior of the pub, Dante carried a few cans of paint and brushes outside so he could give the front of _Dullahan's_ a complete renovation. With a wave of his hand Dante popped the lids on the cans off. First, he sanded and scraped the exterior wood paneling to give himself a smooth surface to start with. After that he began to paint the window by hand. It was one o five AM, and conveniently there were no humans around.

Alan had come up with a new sexy logo for _Dullahan's_ , which he'd already put on the new _Dullahan's_ t-shirts and tank tops, and which Dante intended to use for the new sign he was going to make. Dante carved a new sign by hand, painted it, and then copied Alan's illustration of the headless horsewoman. The horse was black and had glowing red eyes. It looked much like a steed from Hell, Dante realized with a pang of fondness. He missed his own horse.

The headless horsewoman was wearing a low-cut white blouse, a leather corset with straps and buckles, a dark green skirt, and a pair of black riding boots. Her skin was pale and freckled. With her right hand the dullahan was holding the reins and in her other hand she held her severed head. The dullahan's head was pale, freckled and she had strawberry blonde hair that was almost pink. The details that Alan had come up with were pretty amazing.

As Dante painted the visage of the headless horsewoman upon the sign, he felt like he was being watched. Eyes were boring into the back of his skull. He ignored the strange sensation. He wouldn't allow something like that to bother him. _Dullahan's_ was supposedly haunted anyways. Although Dante had yet to encounter an evil spirit there and if he did he would probably exorcize it. For Alan's sake.

Dante hung the freshly painted sign and smiled at the overall new look of the pub. It was a lot darker and sinister now. But in a good way. _Perfect._ Considering all the rumors about the place being haunted they should have made the pub look spookier ages ago. Dante had learned about the rumors during his short time at the pub. Apparently, everyone enjoyed talking to the bartender even if he didn't respond. _Dullahan's_ regular customers would sometimes mention to him about how the place was haunted. The patrons would exchange 'ghost stories' and go on to say that they felt invisible eyes watching them, especially in the bathroom. But apparently everyone kept coming back because they liked Alan, Dante was a very skilled bartender, Joan was a cute waitress, and Kim was smoking hot.

_Haunted?_ Perhaps, the pub really _was_ haunted. Alan seemed to be keeping a few secrets from him and the others. Including how he got that mysterious burn scar on the left side of his face. There was also something rather odd he'd heard the customers mentioning. Apparently, every musician that ever worked at _Dullahan's_ died a mysterious, horrific death. Odd. Was a demon behind this? Dante wondered. He looked at the headless horsewoman, who held her severed head in her hand. She had a beautiful cherubic face, and there were freckles along the bridge of her nose, giving her an air of innocence despite the fact that she was a vengeful ghost. Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes fanning against her cheeks, and she had a mane of wild, strawberry blonde hair. As Dante stared at the severed head it seemed to smile. Dante blinked. Had he painted that smile or...?

The night passed quickly. The night sky lightened to gray and then began to lighten even more as the sun rose. Unfortunately with all the skyscrapers in New York City one really didn't get to watch the sunrise. By the time the sun had risen over the nearby building, Dante was doing the finishing touches to the bar. He had been outside for most of the night and his body was as cold as ice. He'd decided to paint the entire bar counter a glossy black and was currently finishing the job by painting swirls and decorative accents with gold paint.

Dante heard a gasp behind him and turned to see a sleepy-eyed Alan staring at him. The pub owner rubbed his eyes and blinked again. "Dante? Am I still dreaming?"

A smirk quirked Dante's lips. "Good morning, Boss. And no, you're not dreaming. What do you think? I thought this place could use a renovation. I hope you don't mind." The demon gave Alan a hopeful look and felt like crossing his fingers behind his back - something that he'd seen Joan do before.

Alan looked around the interior of the pub with interest. The glass shelves had been repaired, and so had the tables. Everything had been repainted and looked glossy, fresh, shiny and new. The theme was darker now - black, dark green, and gold. Alan noted that even the front window had been fixed. He couldn't believe it. Paint cans and tools were scattered everywhere. How had Dante managed to do this all on his own in a single night? Alan wondered. It just wasn't...normal.

Alan rushed out the front door and looked at the new front. "Wow." His pub looked awesome, modern, new, and ancient - all at the same time. And the sign with the female dullahan on it...whoa. She looked _alive._ He could almost feel her smiling at him. He swallowed. She really did feel familiar...a face he'd seen in his nightmares time and time again. He shuddered. _It's her. Dante really brought her to life on that sign._

Dante had done this for him. His pub had been fixed, restored, and even looked better than ever. Alan sunk to his knees right there on the sidewalk. It was too much for him to handle. _Maybe...Dante is my guardian angel or something? No way._ Dante exited the pub and saw Alan on his knees and his expression grew concerned. "Boss, what's wrong? Are you angry? Should I not have done anything? Forgive me. I can return the pub to the way it used to look..."

Alan shook his head. "No, that's not it. I like it. It's amazing, in fact. It's just...I'm used to everything going wrong in my life. So when something like this happens...I don't know how to feel or react. It's too good to be true. I'm afraid to be happy because I know it can't last." The young man scratched the back of his neck and gave Dante a sheepish look. "I know that doesn't make any sense."

Dante frowned at Alan's words and ruffled the young man's hair. "Be happy. Don't think about what might happen tomorrow. No one knows what tomorrow will bring, so be happy now, in this moment." The demon advised in a firm tone.

Slowly a smile stretched across Alan's face as Dante's words began to sink in. They were wise words. "Yea, you're right, Dante. I was being stupid. Thanks. This is...incredible. And...I _am_ happy. The girls are gonna love it."

Dante's lip twitched. "Indeed." _Joan._ He had to stay away from her. But he couldn't forget about that sizzling kiss. _Dammit how have I let a mere human girl affect me so much?_

***

Joan, Kim, Fred and Hilda arrived around eight o'clock, and admired the renovation Dante had done with looks of awe and surprise on their faces. They were definitely impressed. Joan seemed dazzled too, but strangely nervous. She'd started to chew on her lower lip. _That idiot...showing off his powers again. He's going to get found out._

The new sign for _Dullahan's_ , which featured the headless horsewoman, had also captivated Joan. She'd gasped as soon as her eyes had landed on it. _That woman...she...those freckles on her chest._ On Halloween Joan remembered seeing a female dullahan ride right through _Dullahan's_ front window and down the street. At the time, she thought she'd been seeing things. But had the headless horsewoman been real? A ghost? And not really a 'demon'?

The new look Dante had given _Dullahan's_ helped to attract more and more customers over the course of the next few weeks, which was perfect timing since they'd just entered the month of December. Christmas was one of the busiest times of the year for places like restaurants and pubs. It was on holidays like Christmas that most businesses made most of their money for the entire year.

Everyone at _Dullahan's_ had fallen into a kind of routine. There had been no strange incidents and things had basically stayed the same. This irritated Joan to no end because things shouldn't have been the same. She and Dante had shared a kiss but...Dante was acting like it had never happened. Things hadn't changed between them like she'd expected. She was convinced that Dante was avoiding her, but couldn't talk to Kim about it since her friend wouldn't believe her.

No one else could tell anything was amiss because Dante was still kind and polite towards her. Only Joan was able to sense his sudden distance. She frowned. Why had he pushed her away? Because she was a lowly human? Because it was for her own good? _Stupid demon._ He was infuriating and sexy as hell. Pun intended.

From the looks of things, Dante had put her in the 'friend zone'. Perhaps, he hadn't liked the kiss? Maybe he hadn't felt anything - unlike her. Her lips tingled any time she thought about the kiss. It hurt her female pride to think that Dante hadn't desired her in return. She wondered if she had thrown herself onto him and he had been unwilling, but the memory was getting fuzzy. She was pretty sure that Dante had seemed into the kiss at the time.

Gilebert and her friend Kim were still going out but...Kim appeared less happy about her relationship now. Joan told her friend to just break up with Frenchie if things weren't going well, but Kim claimed that she couldn't break up with him despite their problems. Maybe Kim had actually fallen in love with Gilebert. Joan was sort of jealous. She was happy for her friend but...she also felt sorry for Alan.

Alan obviously adored Kim. But he seemed content with watching Kim from afar. Although, Joan noted the concern shinning in Alan's eyes as Kim's happiness seemed to decrease. Joan knew that if Alan were to go out with Kim that he'd treat her like a princess. He'd cherish her, protect her as best he could, worship her, and respect her. Unfortunately, Joan also knew that her friend Kim was usually attracted to 'bad boys'.

Joan looked around the pub thinking that it should have been busier since Christmas was right around the corner. But it was slow for some reason. Joan's gaze was drawn to the stage that was situated towards the back of the establishment. The empty performing stage. Around this time of year the other restaurants in the area offered live music, and their musicians' playlists usually featured holiday classics. Since Joan started working at _Dullahan's_ she'd never even asked Alan about why the pub didn't have someone to perform live music there. She wondered why the subject had never been brought up and frowned. She intended to remedy this immediately.

"Ahem." Joan cleared her throat to get everyone's attention. "Hey guys, why don't we look into hiring a musician for the pub? I think if _Dullahan's_ had live music available it would attract more customers. What do you think?" It was normal for Joan to make suggestions like this. Alan encouraged it and had told Joan on several occasions that she had a natural business sense. Joan had become more of a manager than a waitress recently and Alan had even given her a raise.

Alan had been holding a tray of drinks, but at Joan's words he paled and dropped the tray. The glasses shattered as they hit the floor. "Whoops. Clumsy me." Alan murmured as he bent over, and lowered his head to allow his bangs to shield his freaked out expression. "A m-m-musician?" He shook his head. "No."

Joan gave her boss a surprised, frustrated look, and placed her hands on her hips. "But why not? You have a stage and everything. It's perfect."

Alan's mouth was a grim line and he let out a heavy sigh before speaking. "No one would say 'yes' to working here as a musician anyways." He muttered darkly to himself. Alan reached out and began to pick up the pieces of broken glass and set them down into the palm of his hand. But as his hand began to shake he ended up cutting his finger on one of the glass shards and gasped. "Ow."

Kim was at his side in an instant, "You okay, Alan?" She asked before grabbing his hand, sticking his bleeding finger into her mouth, and sucking.

Alan's eyes went wide. "Uh..." He nearly let out a moan as Kim's tongue laved over his cut. He shivered. All the blood in his body seemed to be rushing south. _Damn._ He needed to get himself under control before his hard-on became visible. He wanted to respond to Kim: 'I am now', but had temporarily been rendered speechless.

Alan's eyes traveled over Kim's body. She was dressed conservatively _again_. It wasn't like her. Even in the dead of winter Kim liked to wear belly shirts to show off her washboard abs, and tank tops to show off her toned arms. Not that Alan was taking tabs on what she wore to work every day. Okay, fine, he was. He pouted. Currently, Kim had on a long-sleeved shirt with a _Dullahan's_ t-shirt over top, dark blue jeans, and strappy, silver, platform shoes. Her shoes were the least conservative item she was wearing, and Alan noticed she'd painted each of her toes a different color. He missed seeing Kim's skin, but the conservative look was nice on her too. He was sure Kim would look good even in a potato sack.

Kim opened her eyes, and noticed Alan's blush. She also noted how he was leaning forward unconsciously, and quickly pulled back. She looked guilty and a little bit nervous like she hadn't realized what she'd been doing. "Sorry." She stood up. "I think it's a good idea, Joan. I think...live music would be good for _Dullahan's_. I recently went on a date with Gilebert to _Casanova's_. They have a popular pianist named Carmen usually playing there. Carmen is beautiful, classy and extremely talented. I think she'd make a great addition to the Dullahan Team. Come on, Alan, why don't we all go to _Casanova's_ for dinner tonight and listen to her play. You can see if you even like her. Pu-lease." Kim gave Alan the puppy-dog eyes.

"D-Dinner?" 'Dinner' was all Alan had really heard. Had Kim just asked him out to dinner? He wondered. _Is this a date?_ A goofy smile formed on his face.

"Dante and Joan can come with us. It'll be like a double date!" A sly smile curled Kim's lips at the thought. She'd noticed that Joan and Dante were being way less lovey-dovey lately than they used to be, and wanted her friend Joan to find happiness.

"D-Date?" Alan felt faint. Kim had said _the_ word.

Kim leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Joan and Dante have been having problems lately. I want to help them. It's like _so_ obvious they're into each other, you know?"

"Joan and Dante?" Alan's expression fell and the reason why Kim suddenly wanted to go to _Casanova's_ for dinner was suddenly made clear. She wanted to 'help' Joan and Dante. Alan had also noticed their 'connection'. And he'd also noticed how Dante had been distancing himself from Joan lately. He wondered why. If anything Dante was his friend, and he owed him one. If this dinner outing could help Dante be happy then Alan was definitely in. He finally smiled and whispered back to Kim in an equally conspiratorial manner: "I think that's a great idea."

Kim sucked in a breath as Alan's hot, minty breath wafted over her ear. "Uh, thanks." The supermodel's cheeks had become a flushed, rosy color.

Alan cleared his throat and spoke in a louder tone. "Actually, I think this is a good idea. Besides, _Casanova's_ is one of the most popular restaurants in the area. It might give us some more ideas by going there. _And_ I have clothes you guys can wear for tonight. Dresses I've designed for the girls, and a suit you can wear, Dante."

The girls let out excited squeals: "Eeee! New clothes!"

Dante gave Alan a surprised, grateful look, and a nod. "That's very kind of you, Boss."

Even though Alan didn't really want to meet Carmen, or try to get her to perform at _Dullahan's_ he'd somehow been convinced to go out to dinner to _Casanova's_. But as he gazed upon Kim's smiling and now excited face, he knew exactly why.

***

Kim was surprised how easily she'd been able to convince Alan that they should have a double date at _Casanova's_. A triumphant smirk curled her pouty, pink lips and she was filled with feminine pride. But...Alan was obviously hiding something _._ When the topic of getting a musician for _Dullahan's_ had first been brought up, Alan had turned deathly pale and had dropped the tray of drinks he'd been carrying. No one else had seemed to notice anything amiss but Kim had. She wondered if something had happened with a past musician at _Dullahan's_? Like a love affair gone wrong. She intended to find out.

Alan seemed to like the idea of Dante and Joan having dinner together. He'd even offered them clothes to wear that Alan had made himself. Alan was an awesome clothes designer. He not only designed the logo for the pub and made the t-shirts and tank tops that they sold in the pub, but he also designed other clothes for fun. Alan had a closet filled with female clothes - something that she and Joan had had a lot of fun teasing Alan about when they discovered it. Of course, Alan also had a lot of cool looking suits in that closet, which he'd been quick to point out.

After about twenty minutes of perusing Alan's closet, Kim picked out a halter-style, red, floor-length, evening gown. She slipped her leather jacket on over the dress, and slipped her feet into a pair of sexy, black stilettos. The dress was covered in sparkling sequins and glittered like a ruby. Kim looked good in red. It brought out the gold tones in her skin.

As for Joan, she'd reluctantly agreed to wear a dress, and not pants for once. This was nothing short of a miracle for the feminist. Joan ended up deciding upon a sophisticated, emerald-green gown that was form-fitting and strapless. It showed off Joan's nice collarbone.

Kim was feeling pretty hot in her new dress, and when she and Joan finally stepped out of Alan's bedroom she giggled when she noted that Dante's mouth visible dropped open. Alan helped the bartender to close his mouth by putting his index finger beneath Dante's chin and lifting his chin up. Dante snapped out of his stupor that had been created by Joan wearing a dress and elbowed Alan in the side. The bartender hissed something into Alan's ear that made the young man blush and look straight at Kim. Alan gulped. "You...er, look uh, nice."

Kim placed a hand on her jutted hip and smiled. "Gee, thanks, Alan. I was beginning to wonder with your silence guys."

Dante's attention refocused upon a fidgeting Joan. She wouldn't meet his gaze and her eyes were focused on the floor. "Joan." His voice was deep and husky, probably from letting his eyes wander over Joan's delectably exposed collarbone.

Joan looked up and gave Dante a hopeful look. "Yes?"

"You don't look half bad, woman." He smirked.

Joan bristled at the demon's backhanded compliment. "Hmph!"

Dante chuckled while thinking about how Joan looked lovely when she was angry.

Now that the bedroom was free, Dante and Alan went inside so that they could get dressed next. When the two men emerged a few minutes later, the girls were caught off guard by how incredibly handsome they'd both turned out. Alan had chosen to wear a steampunk style suit consisting of a dark green, button-down shirt, a black vest, a gold pocket watch, a black jacket, black pants and shiny, black leather shoes. He also had a stylish black fedora with a dark green ribbon wrapped around its base on his head.

Alan had picked out a Victorian-style suit to give to Dante. He was confident that Joan was going to like what she saw when she saw the bartender in this particular suit. It made the bartender look like a sexy vampire. The suit consisted of a white, button-down shirt, a red and gold vest, a red cravat, black jacket, matching pants and dress shoes.

"Wow. You guys look good." Kim said with a wink. "Don't you think so, Joan?"

"Huh? Oh, yea." Joan flushed. She couldn't take her eyes off of Dante. In fact, Dante couldn't keep his eyes off of Joan either. The two were just standing there and staring at each other dazedly as if Kim and Alan weren't even there.

Kim rolled her eyes at her two clueless friends. She put her arms around Dante and Alan's shoulders just to be coy. "Let's get this show on the road!"

***

Half an hour later, the friends were entering _Casanova_ 's _Italian Restaurant_. Kim had her arm looped through Alan's. The young pub owner was stiff and seemed nervous for some reason. The guy was so cute, and obviously had a _huge_ crush on her. She frowned. If only she'd met Alan before Gilebert.

Gilebert had changed. At first, it'd been perfect. Too perfect. He was such a handsome, charismatic, polite, well-mannered, classy guy. He seemed to have a lot of money too. He had a Jaguar convertible, lived in a luxurious, top-floor apartment in the heart of New York City, and took her out to eat at the finest restaurants. Gilebert pampered her, took her to the movies, and even out to the opera. The sex had been incredible in the beginning...but now...

"Can I take your jacket?" Alan asked, his shy voice drawing her from her dark thoughts.

She held up her hands. "Uh, no, I'm kind of cold."

"Oh, okay." Alan said agreeably, though he gave her a slightly concerned look.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kim could see that Dante was acting like a total gentleman by removing Joan's jacket for her, and handing it over to the coat check guy. Dante handed over his own jacket and Alan handed his over as well.

Joan looked nervous and self-conscious in her dress. Kim thought it was so cute. Joan was holding a gold and green clutch in her one hand, and looked quite elegant. Kim snapped a photo of Joan while she wasn't looking with her smart phone's camera, and decided to give it to Dante later. A cat's paw smile formed on her face at the thought. She might even be able to charge him for it, or maybe she'd just get Dante to owe her a favor.

The group had a reservation, and so a waitress was soon escorting them to their table. Their waitress was smartly dressed in a red shirt that said _Casanova's_ on it, and a black mini skirt. As they entered the main restaurant area, piano playing was heard, and moments later they were able to see the stage. The restaurant was a wide-open floor space with lots of round tables covered with red tablecloths, and booths. Towards the back was a long stage that took up the entire back wall. Up on that stage was a grand piano, and seated before the piano was the singer and pianist, Carmen. Her delicate fingers were flying over the piano keys as she played a passionate piece.

Carmen was a Latin knockout, curvy, olive-skinned with long, wavy, black hair, and dark brown eyes the color of Swiss chocolate. She was wearing a low-cut, gold, evening gown and looked absolutely stunning in it. Like she belonged at the Academy Awards or sashaying her way down a red carpet.

Alan pulled a chair out for Kim and she took a seat. Such a sweet man. She awaited the guys' reactions to Carmen. Alan looked over, spotted Carmen, and his eyes widened in obvious admiration. Kim wasn't sure if that look was for her skills playing the piano, or for her good looks. The supermodel felt an unexpected stab of jealousy at the way Alan was suddenly looking at Carmen. Carmen was around the same age as them and in her early twenties, a potential rival.

Kim forced herself to look away from Alan and turned her attention towards Dante next. His attention was also focused on Carmen, but his expression was stoic. The bartender appeared to be scrutinizing Carmen...assessing her, but there was no obvious admiration or hearts in his eyes. She looked at Joan and saw that the waitress was surreptitiously looking at Dante from behind her menu, a fork clutched in her one hand. Kim almost broke out laughing and snorted. Her friend was so obvious _._ But Dante was totally into her friend too. She wondered what the problem was? And wondered why Dante seemed to suddenly be pushing her friend Joan away. _Men._

"So there she is - Carmen." Kim waved her hand towards the pianist. "She's good isn't she?"

"She is indeed talented." Dante agreed with a nod.

"She's really good and..." Alan smiled and there was a blush to his cheeks. He continued in a wistful tone. "Beautiful. I wonder if she's single?"

Kim's jaw dropped slightly since she was surprised that Alan had the balls to ask that! She frowned. "That is besides the point. And her looks have nothing to do with anything! We're looking for a _talented_ musician, remember, Alan?" Her tone had turned chiding.

All three of her friends gave Kim a surprised look at her unexpected outburst. A knowing smile curled Joan's lips. Alan just gave her a sheepish look in return. "Er, you're right, of course. Sorry Kim." Alan was quick to apologize.

Dante tapped his chin in thought. "Though her appearance doesn't really matter, her _attractiveness_ would be a good selling point. She could help attract more male clientele to the pub that has been filled with mostly female clientele, as of late." He said matter-of-factly.

A muscle beneath Joan's eye ticked in irritation. So...Dante found Carmen 'attractive' did he? Joan began to unconsciously bend the fork she was holding. Uh oh.

"Yea, what he said." Alan swiftly agreed. "It's a selling point. Nothing more."

"Uh, Miss!" Kim called their waitress over so that they could order some drinks.

Dante decided to order them a bottle of red wine he'd spotted on the wine menu for them all to share. "We'll have a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-pape Cuvée des Cadettes." The demon's friend was perfect.

"Châteauneuf-du-pape?" Joan echoed, that wine sounded oddly familiar.

A wistful smile curled Dante's lips. "The Châteauneuf-du-pape has a legacy of over a thousand years. It all began with the bishop Geoffroy in the 12th Century and our setting was a tranquil place near Avignon, in the South East of France. The clergyman had a vineyard in his fiefdom of Châteauneuf, which he maintained in keeping with Roman traditions. However, this vineyard grew in importance when John XXII, after his election as a pope decided to set up the papal residence in Avignon. From Cahors, he brought with him some winegrowers to enhance the wealth of the new residence.

"Thereby, it was at this period that the major foundations that had enabled this vineyard to gain such recognition were established. John XXII was the first to give a denomination to this wine. Before being called the Châteauneuf-du-pape, it was called: 'le vin du pape', or the Pope's Wine. The reputation of the vineyard grew steadily over the centuries. The wine was even served at the court of the French Kings and was a favorite wine of King Charles VII."

"Ooo a wine that kings drank." Kim cooed. "You have nice taste, Dante."

_My King enjoyed this wine._ Joan thought to herself as she remembered.

"What else do you know about the wine, Dante? Your story was pretty interesting." Alan put in.

"Well...the Châteauneuf-du-pape is a blended wine and made from several grape varieties. Hundreds of years ago it was known to use the Counoise from Spain for example. Today, the Grenache is the most commonly used grape variety in Châteauneuf wine, often combined with Syrah and Mourvédre to enhance the wine's character."

"I have no idea what's he's talking about but the wine sounds complex. Hopefully it will give me a buzz." Kim put it with an amused expression on her face.

The waitress returned a moment later with a stainless steel ice bucket and a bottle of wine. She opened the bottle and poured a little into each of their glasses to try first.

Kim watched as Dante lifted his glass, swirled the wine and took a sniff. "It has an aroma reminiscent of dark berries, cherry preserves, licorice, incense and potpourri." He took a sip and nodded. "Its flavor is rich and precise. There are sweet, deep raspberry, and blueberry undertones. There are also candied floral flavors with a strong mineral lift. It brings back memories." He let out a wistful sigh.

"Memories?" Kim's interest was suddenly piqued, "Why? Did you used to drink this wine when you were in France?"

Joan began choking on her wine. _Yea, Kim, Dante probably did sample a Châteauneuf-du-pape, but one of the wines that was made over five hundred years ago._

"Indeed." Jeanne d'Arc very rarely drank wine but had been known to have a little upon occasion and that wine had come from the fiefdom of Châteauneuf. "How do you like the wine, Joan?"

Joan met Dante's eyes. "It's exquisite." And then she decided to mess with his mind a little. "Nostalgic."

Dante's eyes narrowed at Joan then, and there was a dangerous glint in them. Kim noticed the way that Dante was looking at Joan - like he wanted to eat her up or attack her, and gulped. _That's funny. I'm getting some really weird vibes from the two of them._

"Do you have French heritage, Dante? Sometimes I can hear a bit of a French accent coming from you." Kim decided to point out. She'd become good at noticing French accents because of Gilebert's heavy one.

Dante nodded. "I was in the French Army." Or at least this is what he'd put on his resume.

The waitress filled their glasses and left them to decide on their entrees. She returned a few minutes later to take their orders. Dante ordered the filet mignon, rare. Alan ordered the chicken Parmesan. Joan ordered the lasagna. Kim decided to have the shrimp pesto pasta.

Carmen's vibrant piano playing and now singing drifted pleasantly to their ears. Carmen had a deep, sultry voice. A voice that reeked of eroticism, sensuality and sexuality. Alan was already practically drooling. Caught in her spell, hypnotized by her performance. Kim noticed and felt like bending a fork like Joan had earlier. Alan's behavior shouldn't even bother her. She had Gilebert after all. Whether she wanted him or not.

Twenty minutes later their food arrived and was being set down before them. Kim twirled some pasta and shrimp around her fork and took a big bite. "Mmm." She moaned in delight. Sometimes food was better than a man. She'd been good lately and deserved this splurge on calories. Besides, Alan had been preparing her low-calorie meals since he knew she was a model. Sweet man. She heard Joan gasp and looked up to see Dante cutting into his bloody steak. Dante cut a bite-sized piece, put it into his mouth, and groaned in delight.

That masculine groan caused a shiver to travel down Kim's spine. Here was another person that just oozed sensuality. If it weren't so obvious that Joan and Dante were meant to be together Kim probably would have made a move on Dante - at least before Gilebert.

"I like the taste of blood." Dante rumbled in a low voice.

Everyone's eyes widened at that particularly strange comment, and Joan kicked Dante's shin under the table. _Idiot!_

Joan let out a nervous laugh. "He means he likes his steaks bloody. Men. Ha." She quickly clarified.

Dante actually looked embarrassed, "Indeed." He agreed, and there was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks. Apparently, he'd lost himself in the pleasure of eating the filet mignon. A little blood dribbled down Dante's chin making him look just like a vampire in Kim's opinion. There was a darkness around Dante that she had noticed, but that she also kept silent about.

Joan shuddered at the sight. _Sexy demon._ She gulped.

Dante's tongue came out and lapped up the blood. Joan's pupils dilated with desire.

_Wow._ Kim looked back and forth between Dante and Joan. The sexual tension between them was so thick one could probably cut it with a knife.

At that moment, the piano playing stopped, and everyone in the restaurant started clapping. It seemed to break the spell between Joan and Dante and they tore their gazes away from each other.

Carmen smiled, a look of pure pleasure on her face before standing up, and turning to face the restaurant patrons. She bowed, giving all the men in the establishment a nice look at her full breasts. Carmen then stepped off the stage and began to mingle.

"Hey Carmen, over here!" Kim called her over. Kim and Gilebert were regulars there, and so they knew Carmen relatively well. Gilebert always left a twenty-dollar bill in Carmen's tip jar.

Carmen turned, spotted Kim, and her luscious red lips widened into a broad smile. "Kim! _Amiga mia!_ " The pianist swiftly made her way over to their table. Kim got up and greeted Carmen with a hug. "It's good to see you again." Carmen looked over at Alan. "Did you finally get rid of that louse? Good because he gave me the creeps!"

Kim's honey-colored eyes widened in surprise. Gilebert gave Carmen the creeps? "Ah, no, um, this is Alan. He's my boss. And I'm still going out with Gilebert actually." The supermodel hurried to explain.

Carmen's expression fell, "Oh, I see. Pity." She put her hand out for Alan to take. "Carmen. It's nice to meet you, Alan. So you work in the modeling industry? Or let me guess...you're a model too?"

"Ah...no, I own an Irish pub." Alan hedged as his cheeks began to turn pink. He couldn't believe that Carmen thought he could be a model! "Kim waitresses there part-time."

"Oh, I see." Carmen said, looking put out again before she looked Alan over as if she were undressing him with her eyes. "You look like you would be out of shape, but you actually have nice muscle definition. I can tell. Have you been working out lately?"

"Uh, yea, actually." Alan admitted as he scratched the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. He wasn't used to getting so much attention from such a beautiful woman. "How can you tell that with my clothes still on?"

Carmen laughed and it was musical. She threw the young man a wink. "It's one of my special talents, _chiquito lindo_."

Kim cleared her throat to get Carmen's attention. "These are my friends and coworkers - Joan and Dante. Dante is the bartender where I work." Kim explained waving her hand towards the handsome, dark-haired man. "And my friend Joan is a waitress and unofficial manager there." She motioned her hand towards Joan after that.

Joan and Carmen shook hands first, and then Dante and Carmen. "Dante, is it?" Carmen's interest was suddenly intensified. And there was a sly, sensual, mischievous look in her chocolate-brown eyes. "My...you're incredibly handsome." She raked her eyes over his body and seemed to be undressing him mentally. When she'd finished her eyes widened. "You have the body of a warrior! What? Were you in the military or something?"

Dante blinked, surprised at this woman's keen observation. "As a matter of fact, yes."

Carmen ran her tongue over her lips as she continued to look at Dante with an almost predatory look in her eyes now. "You look like a vampire in that get up, you know? I would think that _someone like you_ would wear something a little more low-key. But whatever. So you're a bartender? I'd love for you to make me a drink sometime."

Dante offered her a charming smile. "I would be delighted."

"Carmen, there's actually a reason why we're here. I wanted Alan to hear you play tonight because I think it'd be awesome if you could play at _Dullahan's._ " Kim began to explain with a hopeful expression on her face.

Carmen's teasing expression faltered. " _Dullahan's?_ Did you just say _Dullahan's_? The pub Alan owns is _Dullahan's_?"

Wow. She'd just said the pub's name three times. "That's right." Kim was giving Carmen a confused look. She didn't think the place had a bad reputation or anything. In fact, its popularity seemed to be growing lately thanks to Dante's wicked bartending skills and Fred's awesome cooking.

"And you want to know if I'd be interested in playing _there_?" Carmen said in a wary tone.

"Yep." Kim replied, still not understanding Carmen's sudden reluctance.

The Latin beauty shook her head. "No way Jose."

Kim blinked at Carmen in confusion. "No? But why?"

Carmen frowned and shot Alan an accusing look. He flinched and looked guilty. "Your boss didn't tell you, I take it? _Dullahan's_ ...is haunted. Some say the place is cursed. Every musician who has worked there has died a horrible, bloody, gruesome death." She revealed, and shuddered, rubbing her hands over her arms.

The blood was draining from Alan's face, and he swayed in his seat. He reached his hand into his jacket pocked, pulled out his inhaler and took a deep breath.

Kim noticed what Alan was doing and thought that definitely looked suspicious. "Haunted? That's ridiculous. There's no such thing as ghosts." Kim said, in a determined tone while giving Alan a worried look. She didn't know that Alan even had asthma.

"Everyone in the music industry knows about it. We all know to stay far away from _Dullahan's_. I would be careful if I were you, Kim. Some say the owner of _Dullahan's_ has a pact with the devil." Carmen said matter-of-factly.

"That's crazy!" Joan spoke up. "I haven't seen, I mean, the place is _not_ haunted." _At least not anymore. It does currently have a demon though. But, no big._

Alan having a pact with the devil? That was just ridiculous. "Carmen, you're being unreasonable. There's no way that's true." Kim insisted. Alan was the kindest, sweetest person she knew. And besides, she didn't believe in all of that supernatural mumbo jumbo. "Someone must be spreading vicious lies about the pub around - rumors. Why don't you just come and see the restaurant for yourself before you make up your mind. You can see for yourself that the place isn't haunted. Please." Kim gave Carmen a beseeching look.

"I..." Carmen faltered. She liked Kim. She really did but... _Dullahan's_? She shuddered again.

Dante stood up and met Carmen's eyes. "Please, just come and see the place for yourself. I want to make you a drink."

"It will be on the house of course." Alan added hastily.

"And besides, if there is some kind of evil spirit there - I'll protect you." Dante said firmly with an intense look in his golden eyes as he stared into Carmen's brown ones. "I promise you."

Carmen blushed and then she sighed. "Alright, fine, I'll go for one drink sometime tomorrow night. I'll see the place for myself then. Perhaps, you're right and they're just malicious rumors. Well, I _hope_ that's the case anyways." She threw Dante a wink before she sashayed to another table to greet more of her fans.

Kim gave Dante a thumbs-up. "Quick thinking, Dante. You got that fish on your hook. Now you just have to reel her in."

"Indeed." Dante smirked. He'd noticed Carmen's interest in him, and although he wasn't interested in her...he could use her interest to his own advantage, especially if that meant that he could help Alan get a new pianist for _Dullahan's_.

"No!" Joan burst out abruptly, and blushed when she realized she'd spoken aloud. _Whoops._ "I mean, never mind." _I'm not jealous._ Joan's attention turned to Alan. He didn't look so good. "You okay, Alan?"

"I'm fine." He fainted right out of his chair.

"Check please!" Kim called out.

***

Kim and Joan returned to their apartments while Alan returned to _Dullahan's_ alone. He opened the front door, stepped inside, and let out a heavy sigh. The double date with Kim had been going great until Carmen. Carmen had been so beautiful, sensual, and seductive that Alan had momentarily and foolishly forgotten his worries about trying to hire a musician to perform at _Dullahan's_. But of course Carmen had brought his worries to the to the forefront of his mind. What must his friends think of him? He wondered. Surely, they thought he'd been hiding the fact that people thought _Dullahan's_ was haunted.

The young pub owner rubbed his temples and hung his head in defeat. Anxiety began to swirl in the pit of his stomach at the thought of his friends leaving him because they would think that Alan didn't trust them.

"Boss." Came a deep voice.

Alan jumped and nearly fainted, a scream dying on his lips as he looked up to see Dante. He put a hand over his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Dante? What are you doing here?"

Dante raised an eyebrow at Alan due to the question. "Why, I'm here for our training session, of course."

Over the past few weeks, everyday after work, Dante and Alan went down to the basement of _Dullahan's_ and trained in self-defense, hand-to-hand combat, and various martial arts.

At first, Alan couldn't even throw a punch let alone dodge one. But Dante was a good teacher, patient, but also merciless. He'd 'beaten' Alan down and made him stand up again and again. Presently, Alan could actually throw a punch, take a punch, and even dodge the occasional punch. That is if Dante was holding back, which Alan could tell Dante was totally doing every time he managed it.

Alan blinked at Dante in surprise. "Aren't you going to ask me about earlier?"

Dante's eyebrow arched higher. "Should I?"

Alan stared at Dante and let out a breath of relief. "No."

A half-smile formed on Dante's lips and he ran his tongue over his teeth. "Then let us go to the basement and begin tonight's training session." Dante's blood was already pumping through his veins at a more rapid pace at the prospect of sparring with Alan. He loved fighting and Alan was improving at an impressive rate. Soon the young man might actually present a challenge to Dante and he'd have a true sparring partner.

Alan could feel Dante's excitement and it made him nervous. "Okay." He could tell the bartender wasn't going to go easy on him again.

Alan followed Dante down into _Dullahan's_ basement. The place had been a complete mess, but Dante had cleaned it up pretty quickly and even renovated it. Now the basement looked like a combination private gym and training room. There was a rack that held barbells of various sizes, a treadmill, an exercise bike, a punching bag hanging from the ceiling, and a bench press. The entire floor was covered with padded mats.

This had been a good decision since the few times Dante had thrown Alan he'd gone sailing across the entire basement. There was a cabinet filled with a variety of sporting equipment, and a couple of cardboard boxes filled with all of the junk that had cluttered the basement before the renovation. Alan thought the basement was a whole lot less scary than it had been before. Dante had even painted the walls and ceiling a cheery, baby blue.

When Dante had started their very first lesson, he'd put on these square-shaped, padded gloves and taught Alan how to raise his fists in front of him, and get into the proper stance. After that he'd taught Alan how to throw a punch, and how to block a punch with his forearms. After Alan had the basics down Dante had thrown Alan a pair of boxing gloves and had put on a pair of boxing gloves himself. Then he'd motioned for Alan to attack him, and told the young man to try to land a punch on him.

For the next hour, Alan had tried to land a hit on Dante. It had been impossible. Dante was just too fast. This had continued until Dante said they would suddenly practice blocking and then he'd attacked Alan.

Alan had blinked and then Dante had been in front of him, throwing a straight right at his face. Alan brought his forearms up to block the blow and was sent flying backwards. He fell onto the padded floor. Dante sure was strong. He wondered if it was normal, but shrugged it off.

Dante had also explained to Alan the targets one was supposed to first go for when attacked by an enemy - eyes, throat, and lastly crotch. Once one got better one could go for a more complex target like the back of someone's neck or his carotid. An exact blow there would knock a person out cold. A hard blow to a person's solar plexus could also knock out a person.

Alan blushed at the idea of kicking or kneeing someone in the crotch. He was already having sympathy pains. "But...won't that hurt a lot?" Alan had piped up.

"That's the idea." Dante had drawled, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

Presently, Alan watched Dante stroll over to the storage cabinet, open it up, and take out their boxing gloves. Alan had changed into a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and sneakers. Dante remained in his suit since he claimed that he wouldn't break a sweat and so it didn't matter what he was wearing. Dante put on the gloves and then tossed Alan his. Alan fumbled to catch the gloves and put them on. Dante made his way over to the center of the floor and got into a fighting stance.

Alan made his way over, stood a few feet away from Dante, got into a fighting stance of his own, and put his fists up. When he'd first done this he'd trembled like a leaf. Now he knew more or less what to expect during a training session with the bartender, and was less nervous and afraid.

"Attack me." Dante instructed.

Alan let out a cry as he charged at Dante and threw a punch at the bartender's head. Dante easily dodged the punch tilting his head to the side. Dante's reflexes never failed to impress Alan, but he didn't give up. He threw punch after punch at Dante who continued to lithely dodge the attacks with the barest amount of movement. After ten minutes, Alan was already panting for breath.

"My turn." Dante suddenly said and rushed forward to attack Alan.

Alan's eyes widened in fright and he put his hands up. "W-Wait! I'm not ready! I'm not mentally prepared yet!" He complained as Dante was instantly in front of him and sending a jab towards his stomach.

If Alan let that blow connect he was going to lose his dinner! Alan hopped backwards and narrowly avoided the blow. _I did it!_ Alan thought to himself elated, however, Dante was far from finished. He attacked again and aimed for Alan's head this time. "I said 'wait'!" Alan complained as he raised his forearm and blocked the blow.

Dante gave Alan a surprised, prideful look. "Not bad. Keep it up." He attacked Alan again.

Alan blocked, dodged, and ran from Dante's attacks. He probably looked pretty ridiculous and cowardly but...at least Dante's fierce attacks weren't connecting. That had to count for something, right?

But then Dante was in front of Alan and his fist was flying towards Alan's face.

Alan raised his forearms to block the attack. _Bam._ Alan was sent flying backwards and onto the mat with an 'oof'. He was sweating, panting for breath, and utterly exhausted. He sat up and looked at Dante, slightly dazed.

The bartender on the other hand looked as cool as a cucumber. He wasn't sweating nor out of breath, and looked completely unrumpled. Alan pouted. Dante was so cool. The man was not only strong but charismatic and skilled.

Dante made his way over to the mini refrigerator, and took out a bottle of water, which he tossed Alan's way. Alan fumbled to catch it. He opened the bottle and took a swig. The cool liquid slid down his parched throat deliciously. He was surprised that water could taste so good.

"You're improving." Dante complimented.

Alan beamed.

"But you still have a long way to go."

Alan's expression fell. "I know." He murmured as he drank his water and tried not to look at _the door._

Down in the basement there was a strange red-painted door that Alan wasn't allowed to open. Well, Alan hadn't been allowed in the basement of _Dullahan's_ at all in fact when his parents, and brother had been alive. The one time his brother George had found him down there he'd beaten the shit out of Alan, and warned him that if he ever opened _that red door_ again that he'd kill Alan. He gulped at the frightening memory.

Alan hadn't mentioned _the door_ to Dante but apparently the man had paid it no mind while doing the renovation of the basement and hadn't even asked about it.

"What are you looking at?" Dante asked suddenly, noticing that Alan was staring at a particular section of wall space with a fearful expression on his face, though there was nothing there.

"The door," Alan revealed, hesitantly.

"Door? What door? This is no-" Dante was saying when abruptly he could see it - a red-painted, wooden door with iron hinges. The paint on the door was peeling and the door looked ancient. Dante blinked. The door hadn't been there before, and now it was suddenly visible. Dante strode towards the door. "What's behind that door, Alan?"

"I don't know," Alan murmured as he wrapped his arms around his torso unconsciously.

"Then let's find out," Dante reached his hand out towards the doorknob.

This action caused Alan to leap to his feet, run over to Dante, and grab his arm. "No! You mustn't open the door!" Alan's voice was full of fear.

Dante turned to give Alan a surprised, searching look. "Why not?"

Even as they spoke Dante had the odd sensation that they were being watched. It caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. And this feeling was coming from the door.

"My brother forbid me from opening that door, Dante. We can't." There was a tremor in Alan's voice.

"Your brother is dead. And we can." Dante insisted.

Alan was trembling in trepidation now. He too could feel that heated stare upon him, coming from that door. But he found himself nodding.

Dante reached out, grabbed the doorknob, and opened the door. It creaked loudly as it was opened, and a musty wind blew past them eerily.

Dante and Alan peered inside the chamber but it was pitch-black inside. If Alan weren't with him Dante would have used a fireball to illuminate the chamber, as it was...he would have to figure something out. "We're going to need flashlights."

"R-Right. I'll go get them." Alan offered before making his way to the storage cabinet and rummaging around until he found two flashlights. He returned three minutes later with the two flashlights in hand. He handed one to Dante. The men turned their flashlights on and entered the chamber.

It was a rather large room, about half the size of the basement. The floor was soft, damp dirt and crumbling stone. The air inside of the chamber smelled moldy and of decay. The walls looked like cobbled stones or bricks. There was an old, wooden shelving unit with strange objects on its shelves - candles that had been burned down half way, boxes of matches, and books that looked ancient.

Alan's eyes were drawn to a small stone altar next, and the sinister looking athame (ritual dagger) that was lying on top of it. As Dante and Alan pointed their flashlights at the ground before the altar it was to reveal that there was a large, red circle with strange symbols written inside of it that had been drawn on the dirt floor with some kind of red ink. Alan frowned. _What the hell is that?_

Dante knew what it was as soon as he saw it - a magic circle. And that was no ordinary magic circle either, but a demon-summoning circle. Dante knelt before the circle and reached his hand out to touch the red swirls. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together. It was blood. Human blood.

"Is that what I think it is?" Alan asked, voice quavering.

"Yes." Dante's voice was grim. "It's blood."

The circle had been drawn in human blood. Alan felt faint.

Dante stood and turned to face Alan with a slightly accusatory look on his face. "Alan, why is there a demon-summoning circle here?"

Alan paled at Dante's strange words that didn't make any sense, and he shook his head. "Demon...what? I don't know. I swear! I was never even allowed down here, remember?" Alan was beginning to feel like he was having one of his nightmares. He pinched his arm just in case he was still sleeping. "Ow." Apparently, he was wide-awake, unfortunately.

Dante's eyes narrowed at Alan but he could tell the young man was telling the truth. The only humans who could summon a demon were those who'd made a contract with a demon. Aka those witches or warlocks who'd sold their soul to the devil or a demon in exchange for something.

_What the hell is going on?_ Dante had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If what he thought was correct then...Alan could be in grave danger. At that moment, Dante spotted two safes at the back of the chamber. He approached the first and tried it. It was locked. Thanks to Alan's fear of being inside the chamber Dante currently had superhuman strength and was able to force the door of the safe open. "It was open." Dante lied before shinning his flashlight inside of the safe and frowning. "Alan, come over here and take a look at this."

Alan made his way over to Dante's side and crouched down so that he could peer into the safe. His eyes bugged. There were stacks and stacks of money. Hundred dollar bills. There was probably at least a million dollars in the safe.

Neither Dante nor Alan made a move to get the money, however. "Alan, do you have any idea where this money came from? Or what's it's for?"

Alan shook his head, looking lost. "Hell no."

"I see." Dante worried his fingers over his jaw in thought. "It would be better, I think, if you did not touch this money. There could be dire consequences if you do. Understand, Alan?"

Alan nodded. He trusted Dante's judgment. "Y-Yes. I won't touch it."

"Good. And don't tell anyone about it either. We'll just leave it down here." Dante closed the safe and turned to the other safe next. He reached out to pry the front open, however, as soon as Dante's fingers brushed against the safe it glowed with a red light and Dante was suddenly sent flying backwards by a tremendous shockwave of magical power.

"Dante!" Alan called out in concern as he watched Dante being blasted back by an unseen force.

Dante sat up, dazed. _There's a protection spell on that safe. I cannot open it. Only a witch would be able to open that safe. Jeanne..._

"Are you alright?" Alan asked as he approached the bartender. Dante looked up to see that Alan was offering him his hand and he allowed Alan to help him up. "I'm fine. Don't touch that safe. It's cursed."

"C-Cursed?" Alan wrung his hands together. "Then what people are saying about this place is true? My pub really is cursed? That sucks." This was getting weirder and weirder.

"That's putting it lightly, my friend. Come on, let's get the hell out of here." Dante grabbed Alan's arm and dragged him from the chamber. Dante could feel a pair of eyes drilling holes into his back. Dante shut the red door behind Alan and glared at the door fiercely. What the fuck was going on? What had Alan's brother George been up to? _Shit._ Alan could be in danger because of his brother's meddling in the occult.

"Alan. Do not enter that chamber. Ever. It's dangerous." Dante advised with a tone that brooked no argument.

Alan gulped. "What happened in there? Why does that place feel so... _evil_?"

"The less you know the better." Dante rumbled.

Alan frowned. Once again he was being kept in the dark about the family secrets but...he was the last Dullahan left and he had a feeling those dark secrets would soon be catching up to him.

***

The next day at _Dullahan's_ , when noon rolled around, Joan and Kim shared a look. They'd decided they wanted answers, but they didn't want to ask Alan, who looked paler than usual that day. Instead, they'd decided to both go to the library during their lunch break. They asked Hilda to handle any customers for them since it was a particularly slow day and luckily she agreed.

Joan drove Kim to the nearest library. The night before, Joan had collected a list of names of musicians who had worked at _Dullahan's_ and the dates of their deaths online. Some of the articles had been available to read online, but Joan decided she wanted to see the original newspaper articles that had been printed in the _New York Times_. Online newspaper articles were oftentimes altered or censored, and Joan wanted to learn the truth. The girls entered the library, and immediately headed to the microfilm section. The microfilm section was a large area filled with cabinets that contained microfilm. They consulted the posted guide that displayed the arrangement of the microfilm geographically by state and then alphabetically by city.

They got the microfilms for the _New York Times_ during the dates that they needed and made their way over to the microfilm reader. The microfilm reader worked as a projection screen, which allowed for the viewing of microfilm at different magnifications.

Joan took out a microfilm, unscrolled it as she attached it to the machine, and then began to scroll through the newspaper as she looked for the articles she wanted to read. "Hey, look at this. This is the most recent article we want to read. It's about Alan's brother's death. I decided we might learn something from reading it." Kim peered over Joan's shoulder as the two girls began to read the article.

The article was a blurb about George Dullahan's death. Apparently, he'd been in a horrific car accident. George had been driving behind a truck that was transporting steel pipes when he'd hit the truck from behind. A pipe had fallen off, smashed through George's windshield, and had decapitated him.

"Accidentally decapitated?" Joan murmured to herself as she read the words on the screen. She didn't like the sound of that at all. She also couldn't help thinking about the headless horsewoman she'd seen on Halloween and how she'd ridden out of _Dullahan's_ front window. Coincidence? A dream? A hallucination? Or reality?

"Poor Alan," Kim said as she read the article. "Let's keep reading. The next article we want to find is the one about Alan's parents."

The girls found the article they wanted and discovered that Alan's parents had died in a plane crash. Their bodies had been found decapitated and their heads were never found. Again, the article stated that it had been an 'accidental decapitation'. This time shrapnel from the plane had apparently cut off their heads during the explosion.

"Another 'accidental decapitation'." Kim shuddered. "Let's keep going."

The next article the girls read was about a musician - a female guitarist who had worked for _Dullahan's_ for about a year before she was killed in a violent mugging. She'd been killed on St. Patrick's Day. The mugger had cut off her head and the head was never found.

"Oh, come on, 'accidental decapitation' _again_?" Kim spoke up, and the skepticism was clear in her tone. "During a mugging? We're supposed to believe this bull?"

"Hmm." Joan hummed. She was already beginning to realize that these decapitations were no accident. It must have been the work of a dullahan. But why? "There's more."

They read on to discover that a year before that, also on St. Patrick's Day, a female singer who'd worked at _Dullahan's_ was in a terrible sailing accident. Her neck had been caught in the ropes and her head severed from her body. Again, it had been an 'accidental decapitation' and her head was never found.

The year before that, on St. Patrick's Day, a female violinist who worked at _Dullahan's_ supposedly committed suicide. She'd hung herself with her violin strings. The strings had cut through the girl's neck and her head mysteriously disappeared from the morgue later on.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Kim placed a hand over her mouth as she read the detailed descriptions about how these female musicians had died one after the other.

"It just keeps going." Joan flipped through article after article while turning the knob of the microfilm reader. "There are so many of them." Joan said darkly as she continued to read. "Every year on St. Patrick's Day the current musician who is working at _Dullahan's_ dies a mysterious death - an accidental decapitation. And their heads always mysteriously disappear."

Kim frowned. "But why? Why is this happening? And why only on St. Patrick's Day? And why did the Dullahan family only hire female musicians? What the hell is going on? This is like something out of a fantasy book. It's like _Dullahan's_ really _is_ cursed or something. Or haunted or whatever." Kim looked over at her friend with a helpless look on her face. "You don't think _Dullahan's_ is really haunted do you? Maybe by that headless horsewoman?"

Joan shot her friend a sharp look, surprised that she'd figured things out that far. "Why do you think that? I thought you didn't believe in supernatural stuff?"

Kim shrugged. "I don't but...it just makes sense. Alan says he has dreams about a headless horsewoman. Nightmares. Every night. That's what the pub's logo is based on - his dreams. I know you probably think I'm crazy to even consider this but..."

"I don't think you're crazy." Joan quickly assured. "Even if _Dullahan's_ is haunted by a dullahan why are the musicians killed? That is the real question. There's got to be something behind all of this."

"But why were Alan's parents and brother killed _instead_ of musicians?" Kim wondered aloud.

"Carmen mentioned that every musician in New York knows that _Dullahan's_ is cursed at this point. No one wants to work for Alan. Maybe...they died because there was no musician to take their place." Joan mused aloud.

"This is beginning to sound a lot like human sacrifice, Joan." Kim shuddered, wrapped her arms around her body, and looked small and lost.

Joan immediately wanted to comfort her friend and reassure her. "Or all this could just be over-exaggerated rumors and coincidence." Joan suggested. She didn't want Kim to worry. "Reporters will say _anything_ if it'll make a good story. Or if it will make them some money. Alan wouldn't hurt a fly. You know that."

"Yea, you're right." Kim smiled but then her smiled faltered. "What if Alan is in danger?"

"Don't worry. I'll protect him." Joan said firmly. _I'll get to the bottom of this. Dullahan's is definitely cursed. But why? Kim's right. Alan could be in danger. And Carmen too if she decides to work there. I have to protect them. It's my duty as Jeanne d'Arc._ Joan turned off the microfilm machine. "Let's get back to work."

When Joan and Kim returned to _Dullahan's_ , Kim couldn't even bear to look Alan in the eyes. Alan noticed that Kim was avoiding him, and looked crestfallen. Joan sighed. Her friend was _so_ obvious. Poor Alan. Whatever was going on, Joan was almost positive it wasn't Alan's fault. Like no way. Hell no.

That same day at nine o'clock PM, the bell above the front door of _Dullahan's_ jingled as Carmen made her way inside. She was wearing a long, black leather jacket, which she took off and hung on a hook by the door. Beneath her jacket she was wearing a red Latina style dress with spaghetti straps, and lots of ruffles on the bottom of the knee-length skirt. She had a pair of red stilettos on her feet. The pianist was showing a lot of skin considering it was December.

Carmen's dark gaze looked around the pub until it fell upon Dante. Her red-painted lips curled into a seductive smile at the sight of the handsome bartender. Carmen sashayed over to the bar and took a seat. "Hello Dante." She crossed her legs.

Dante looked up and met Carmen's dark eyes. His eyes widened slightly as he recognized her, "Carmen. I didn't think you would come."

"Well, I did." Carmen flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I was...curious about this place and besides, you promised to make me a drink."

"That I did." Dante's golden eyes sparkled. "What would you like?"

"Surprise me," Carmen said teasingly. " _Mi corazon_."

"Alright then. A beautiful woman needs a beautiful cocktail." Dante agreed and began to make Carmen a Six Cycle. Dante grabbed a stemmed glass and a shaker tin, and set both down on the bar. He grabbed a bottle of white rum, flipped the bottle, and poured one and a half ounces of the liquor into the tin. Dante grabbed a bottle of Maraschino liqueur by its neck, tossed the bottle behind him so that it went up and over his shoulder, and then Dante caught the bottle on his forearm in a stall before bumping the bottle into a pouring position. He added half an ounce of Maraschino liqueur to the tin. He added two and a half ounces of orange juice to the tin, and shook the mixture. He added this mixture to the stemmed wine glass.

Dante grabbed the bottle of grenadine, flipped the bottle, and poured half an ounce into the glass so that it formed a layer of red liquid beneath the yellow layer. Dante grabbed a bottle of champagne and poured two and a half ounces of champagne into his shaker tin. Dante grabbed the bottle of Blue Curacao, tossed the bottle behind his back, caught it with his other hand, and poured half an ounce of Blue Curacao into the shaker tin. Dante grabbed a spoon and held it over the stemmed glass. He then poured the blue-tinted mixture over the spoon so that it was added to the drink. This created a top layer of green, blue and white foam.

Dante's movements had been fast, fluid, impressive, mesmerizing. Carmen's eyes had widened as she watched Dante prepare her drink and even do a few flair bartending tricks. _Cute. Real cute. A demon showing off that he can mix drinks._ Carmen licked her lips. He looked good enough to eat. And she hadn't eaten in so long. She was _very_ hungry.

Dante set the layered rainbow colored drink down before Carmen with a flourish. "Enjoy, Mademoiselle."

"Oh, I will. It's beautiful. Very colorful." Carmen said without taking her eyes off of Dante and taking a sip of her drink. "Mmm. It's good. What is this drink called?"

"I found the drink's recipe on the internet. It's called a Six Cycle. It thought it would be a fun drink to learn." Dante admitted. "I also wanted a drink with some red in it to compliment that lovely dress you are wearing."

"How thoughtful of you." She took another sip of her drink. "Delicious." She purred while looking into Dante's eyes.

Dante blinked. He wasn't sure if Carmen was talking about the drink or him now. He had to admit that Carmen was an incredibly attractive female but...ever since Jeanne d'Arc no woman could compare. They just felt... _wrong_. "I'm glad you like it. Well, what do you think of the pub?"

Carmen looked around the place and shrugged. "It looks more normal than I thought it would. It definitely doesn't look haunted. But then again..." She turned her gaze back to Dante. "Appearances can be very deceiving, can't they, Dante?" She cooed.

Dante raised an eyebrow at Carmen and wondered just what she was implying.

Meanwhile, Joan was watching Carmen and Dante's interaction enviously and was beginning to get slightly pissed off. She'd never felt jealous before with the other girls that came to see Dante but...there was something about this woman that set her on edge. _I don't trust her...Miss Big Boobs Latina. Hmph!_ The woman should have had a sign hanging off her rear end, which read: Latin Women Have Curves. She grit her teeth.

Alan spotted Carmen and made his way over to her. "Carmen, it's nice to see you again. Thank you for coming and taking the time to visit my pub."

Carmen turned her gaze towards the shy young man. "Hello Alan. It's nice to see you again too. And you're welcome."

"Do you like your drink?" Alan asked nervously.

" _Delicioso_. It's delectable." Carmen gushed. "And so is your bartender."

Alan grinned and his blue eyes twinkled with amusement. Dante was definitely a lady killer, even though he didn't try to be. "Don't forget it's on the house."

"Well, Alan, I have to say that your pub looks much more normal than I thought it would. I'm considering working here." Carmen said off-handedly.

Alan paled. "Carmen, what if you're right and _Dullahan's_ really is cursed? What if working for me puts you in danger? I don't know if the rumors are true or if the things that have happened here are coincidence or something more. But if something were to happen to you...I couldn't live with myself."

A thick silence hung in the air. Everyone was clearly surprised by Alan's bold, straightforward words.

Carmen laughed and it was musical. She reached out and stroked Alan's cheek fondly. "Such a kind young man. I can't believe you just told me that you think your own pub might be cursed. That was very chivalrous of you. You don't encounter very many men like you these days. I think just because of that...I _will_ work here."

Alan's expression fell, "Carmen...I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Nonsense!" Carmen waved her hand dismissively through the air and Alan noticed that she'd painting her fingernails a fire engine red. "Dante here has already promised me that he'll protect me. Isn't that right, Dante?"

Dante nodded. "Indeed. If there is a ghost I will protect you from it, Carmen. You have my word."

"I-I'll protect you too!" Alan spoke up, flushed. "I promise."

Carmen smiled revealing her pearly white teeth. Her dark brown eyes twinkled, and she kissed Alan's cheek. "What a sweet Boss I have now." Her red lipstick left the imprint of a kiss mark on his cheek.

Kim's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe Carmen had just kissed Alan...just like that!

Alan's cheeks reddened, and he felt very hot and tingly all of a sudden. He swallowed thickly. If he didn't know any better Alan would say he was aroused. But since when did a mere kiss on the cheek arouse him? _I really need to get laid._

Kim stalked over and pulled Alan away from Carmen unexpectedly.

Carmen smiled mischievously when she caught sight of Kim. "Kim! It's good to see you, _amiga mia_!" Her eyes narrowed in on how Kim had her arm wrapped around Alan's now. "Broke up with Gilebert yet?"

Kim blushed and quickly let go of Alan's arm. "No."

"Pity." Carmen said with a sigh. "I really don't like him."

_I'll help protect you from the female dullahan too, Carmen. Even if I don't like you._ Joan thought to herself.

_To be continued..._ in Drink 11: Chocolate Raspberry Martini

Dantalion: "Good evening, lowly human, so you wish to learn how to make a Six Cycle - the most beautiful drink ever? First, mix 1 1/2 ounces of white rum, 1/2 an ounce of Maraschino liqueur, and 2 ounces of orange juice together and add this mixture to a glass. After that add 1/2 an ounce of Grenadine to the glass so that there is a red layer of red liquid at the bottom of the glass. Then mix 1/2 an ounce of Blue Curacao and 2 1/2 ounces of champagne together before then adding this blue-tinted mixture to your glass using a spoon. This will add layers of green, blue and white foam to the drink. The drink will ultimately have a red layer at the bottom, then a yellow layer, a green layer, a blue layer and lastly a layer of foam. Enjoy!"

### Chapter 11: Chocolate Raspberry Martini

It was Christmas at _Dullahan's_. The entire pub had been decorated to the nines for the holiday with the help of Dante's demonic skill, and everyone's enthusiasm. Joan thought that the pub looked absolutely amazing and there was a warm, fluttery feeling anytime she looked around the place.

Dante had somehow found an eight-foot tall Blue Spruce and the entire staff of _Dullahan's_ had decorated the Christmas tree with a spiral of gold and green ribbon, glittery green and gold balls, and candy canes that were swirled with red, green and white. The staff had also added a few random ornaments, which they'd brought from home for a more personal touch. Artificial golden butterflies also decorated the tree giving it a whimsical feel. Pine garlands with lights and ornaments decorated the front window, and similar garlands also draped along the bar.

Alan had purchased a seven-foot tall, blow-up Santa balloon online that was sitting outside of the restaurant on the sidewalk. There was also a life-size Santa doll inside of the pub that danced and sang Christmas carols when you clapped in front of it.

Dante had come up with a special menu of Christmas themed cocktails. The Peppermint Stick was a drink, which used white crème de cacao and peppermint schnapps to get a mint chocolate flavor. The Christmas Cookie was a drink, which had Kahlua, Bailey's and a shot of peppermint schnapps. The Santa Shot contained layers of peppermint schnapps, grenadine and green crème de menthe for a beautiful little shot of Christmas spirit.

The Chocolate Raspberry Martini contained raspberry vodka and white crème de cacao. The Red Hot Santa Tini used chili pepper infused vodka and had a rim around the martini's glass of cocoa powder mixed with cayenne. A Snowball was a drink, which featured tequila and cinnamon. The Red Rudolph was a warm drink that featured cinnamon, orange and cranberry flavors. The Candy Cane was a drink that blended schnapps, berry vodka, and crème de cacao. Dante came up with several drinks that featured eggnog - spiked eggnog with rum, eggnog cappuccinos, and an eggnog martini. There was also Hot Butter Rum and Mulled Wine, which was red wine with sugar and lots of spices. On the menu there were also various coffee drinks available with flavors like: candy cane, peppermint, gingerbread, pumpkin, chocolate, and caramel.

A demon celebrating Christmas? Dante knew that it was ironic. If Lucifer could see him...he would probably take Dante's head for treason. The thought made him smile.

_Dullahan's_ had been packed on Christmas Eve and the patrons had promised profusely to come again on Christmas Day. Carmen's piano playing and singing had been a smash hit. Carmen had performed many holiday favorites: _Jingle Bells_ , _Oh, Christmas Tree_ , _Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_ , _My Grown-Up Christmas List_ , _Silent Night_ , _Silver Bells_ , _White Christmas_ , _Santa Baby_ , _Santa Claus is Coming to Town_ , _Carol of the Bells_ , _The Most Wonderful Time of the Year_ , _You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch_ and _Walking in a Winter Wonderland_.

However, when Christmas day arrived, _Dullahan's_ steady stream of customers suddenly fizzled to a stop. The change was too abrupt to be normal and Joan wondered what the hell was going on.

Dante, Joan, Kim, Alan, Fred and Hilda were waiting for the customers who had yet to arrive, and it was already twelve o' clock noon. Carmen still hadn't arrived at the pub but she usually arrived later anyways. At that moment, the front door opened and the bell jingled as Carmen made her way inside. The attractive Latin woman was bundled up in a white fur coat, matching fur hat, gold scarf, and gloves because it was snowing lightly outside.

"Brrr! It's freezing outside!" Carmen complained as she began to strip off her jacket, hat and gloves. She rubbed her arms. "You guys are not going to believe this but...that café down the street, _Cornelia Street Café_ , has a line two blocks long!"

" _Cornelia Street Café_?" Alan spoke up with a frown on his face.

"Hey, isn't that where your Gilebert works?" Joan asked Kim in a teasing tone.

Kim nodded, "Yes." The supermodel's expression was oddly serious.

"Did he have some kind of special event planned for today?" Joan prodded her friend.

Kim shrugged. "Hell if I know." She was acting strangely apathetic.

Joan tapped her chin in thought before an idea came to her. "Alan, let's go spy on _Cornelia Street Café_ I'm curious to see what Gilebert is up to. We worked so hard to get our current clientele to let someone steal them away without a fight!" Joan gripped her bicep in a very tomboyish manner. "He's only seen me once so I doubt he'll recognize me. And he's never seen Alan. Dante would draw too much attention if he went, and besides, we need him here at the bar."

Alan blinked and pointed a finger at himself. "You want to go with _me_?"

Joan nodded and a sly smile curled her lips.

Alan hesitated. He didn't know if he liked the idea of going and spying on _Cornelia Street Café_ and Gilebert. Then again, Alan _was_ curious about Kim's boyfriend. What was he like? What did he look like? Was he good looking? How good looking was he? Alan admitted to himself that he _was_ definitely curious. "Okay, fine. Let's go." Alan finally spoke up in a firm tone.

Kim gave Alan a surprised look while Dante shot Alan a proud one. Carmen's expression was amused. The pianist sauntered over to the bar and took a seat upon one of the barstools. "While you're gone, Joan, I'll keep Dante company. One Chocolate Raspberry Martini, please." Carmen batted her long, dark lashes at the demon bartender.

Dante looked unaffected by Carmen's flirtatious comments. "Right away, Mam." And he went about preparing the martini for Carmen.

Joan ground her teeth at the sight. She really didn't like leaving Carmen alone with Dante but...she had no choice. They had to find out what the hell was going on at _Cornelia Street Café_.

Joan and Alan bundled up, left _Dullahan's,_ and made their way down the sidewalk towards _Cornelia Street Café_. The café was only a few blocks away. Just as Carmen had claimed the line was two blocks long! _Cornelia Street Café_ was not a large establishment and couldn't handle the sudden flood of customers. Despite the freezing cold weather the customers seemed okay with waiting outside in the cold.

Joan was not a very patient person, however. "Come on. We're cutting." She announced as she grabbed Alan's arm and began to drag him towards the front of the line while keeping to the shadows of the nearby buildings.

Joan pulled Alan out of the shadows once they'd reached the front of the line where several young women were standing. Dilemma. Joan frowned, tapped her chin and had a sudden idea. "Hey! Look over there! Isn't that Gilebert?" Joan's eyes widened and she pointed behind the young women's shoulders with a dramatic flourish.

"What? Where? Where's Gilebert?" "Gilebert? He's outside?" "Where is he?" The girls instantly turned to look in the direction Joan had pointed, and began to frantically search for any sign of Gilebert.

Success. Joan smirked triumphantly as she pulled Alan inside of the café. There was only one table available and they quickly took a seat. The duo raised their menus in front of their faces so that they could spy on the café and more importantly on Gilebert.

The café had been decorated for Christmas as well, but the decorations were nowhere near as impressive as _Dullahan's_. Joan looked around the café and at its decorations curiously. After that she looked behind the bar counter to see what Gilebert was up to and her jaw dropped. _Ehhh?!_

Gilebert was currently shirtless and was wearing a red and white Santa hat on the top of his head. A black bow tie was around his neck and he was wearing a pair of tight, red leather pants. His curly brown hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. He seemed to be exuding sensuality and eroticism. He was a sexy meat popsicle. Yum.

Alan was also looking at Gilebert in shock. He'd never seen the guy before and had to admit that he _was_ very handsome. Gilebert was tall and his impressive, muscular torso was currently on display. He had sun-kissed skin even though it was the dead of winter. Gilebert had shoulder length, curly brown hair that was tied back into a ponytail and golden eyes similar to Dante's. The barista had a square jaw, a dimple in his chin, stubble along his jaw, and a barely there goatee.

The barista looked like a warrior with all those muscles or a bodybuilder. Alan was almost as tall as Gilebert but nowhere near as muscled. Alan was more lithe - almost lanky, but he had been working out lately. Still, he had to admit that Gilebert definitely beat him in the looks department at the moment. _So...that's Gilebert. Kim's boyfriend._ Alan pouted. _I don't stand a chance against him...in more ways than one._

"What the hell does Gilebert think he's doing?" Joan leaned over the table and hissed at Alan in a low voice. "I can't believe he's actually shirtless! It's winter! Like what the hell? This isn't Hawaii. That's playing _dirty_ ...using those muscles to steal all our female clientele." Joan began to grind her teeth together in an irate fashion.

"Yea." Alan let out a defeated sigh.

A competitive glint came to Joan's green eyes. "We should go back to _Dullahan's_ and tell Dante to take _his_ shirt off. I'm sure _Dante_ has more muscles than this guy!" _After all he's a Great Duke of a Hell and a warrior!_ "And besides, Dante is _much_ handsomer."

Alan tilted his head to the side. "I'd say they're about the same build. Wait, what? Did you just say you want Dante to take his shirt off, and that Dante is handsome?"

Joan's cheeks turned pink. "You're totally taking that out of context, Alan."

Alan smiled in amusement and suddenly he felt like laughing. _Joan likes Dante doesn't she?_ "Well, it's a good idea but I doubt Dante will go for it. Besides..." Alan looked around the café and noticed that several men were also at the café and looking at Gilebert with obvious admiration in their eyes. That was kind of...weird. There wasn't anything wrong with being gay or anything, but it wasn't that common. And most men weren't so open about it if they were gay.

Alan shuddered at the very thought of being attracted to Gilebert. Even though Alan was often accused of being gay because of his interest in girlie hobbies, he liked women. This Gilebert was no ordinary guy to so easily attract men as well. He wasn't...normal. _He must be pulling some kind of trick._ Alan thought. There was also something about Gilebert that rubbed Alan the wrong way. He immediately didn't trust him. "Gilebert has also managed to steal away our male clientele." Alan motioned to the left with a nod of his chin.

Joan looked around the café and realized with surprise that Alan was right about that observation. "Oh my God, you're right...that's so... _weird_." Amusement twinkled in Joan's green eyes. "I've seen some of these guys at _Dullahan's_ ogling Kim so I know they're not gay. What the hell is going on? It's like he has everyone here under some kind of love spell or something?"

Alan shrugged. "Everyone except for us, Thank God."

"Yea, well, two can play at that game. Alan, what if you made some sexy outfits for Carmen, Kim and I to wear? And an outfit for Dante of course. Then Carmen, Kim and I will go outside and roast chestnuts on the sidewalk to attract customers using the portable grill. What do you think? We'll fight fire with fire. Sexiness versus sexiness!" Joan loved a challenge and could get very competitive.

Alan thought about Joan's idea. His artistic mind was immediately able to picture the girls in sexy holiday outfits. Kim would look gorgeous, and delectable in a short red and white Santa girl dress. Her long blonde hair would be cascading over her shoulders in waves. Her lovely, fair skin would finally be on display. Alan felt himself slightly harden at the thought. Alan felt like he hadn't seen Kim's skin on display for like ever. He secretly had copies of the magazines she'd modeled for and even had a picture of Kim in a swimsuit but...the real thing was _so_ much better.

Alan could make a cute elf girl outfit for Joan and a sexy elf girl outfit for Carmen. More visual images filled his creative mind. As he pictured Carmen's voluptuous body on display he could feel his cock harden even more. He swallowed thickly, aroused. "Yea...I think it will work, Joan. You're a genius."

Joan's expression turned smug. "I know."

The duo was about to leave when a waitress came to take their orders. They decided they might as well try the eggnog cappuccino to see if it was better than Dante's, so they ordered two. They watched as Gilebert made their cappuccinos. The barista added eggnog and rum, and the process didn't look much different to how Dante made his eggnog cappuccino. Gilebert set the cappuccinos on a tray and the waitress went over to retrieve them. Gilebert looked up and noticed Joan and Alan staring at him and offered them a sexy smile showing off his gleaming white teeth.

Joan narrowed her eyes at Gilebert. That smile...there was something oddly familiar about it. A strange feeling of déjà vu washed over Joan and it creeped her out. _That was weird._

Alan blushed and looked away, embarrassed. _What the hell?_ That jerk, smiling at him like that unsettled him.

Gilebert's smile faltered at Joan and Alan's strange reactions. (Really, no human should be able to resist his charms). He looked at Alan more closely, and recognition flashed in his eyes.

The waitress set the cappuccinos down in front of them. Joan picked up her cup, blew on it, and took a sip. Alan did the same. "It's just... _normal_. It's definitely not better than Dante's, that's for sure. What do you think, Alan?"

"Yea, it's nothing _special_." Alan readily agreed.

"Nothing special? That's a bit harsh don't you think?" Came a drawling voice with a thick French accent.

Joan and Alan gasped when they realized Gilebert was standing at their table.

"Gilebert." Joan breathed.

"That's me." Gilebert nodded and narrowed his eyes at Joan and then Alan. "And you must be Joan and Alan."

Joan and Alan both shared a surprised look that Gilebert knew who they were.

"Forgive me, but Kim talks about you both all the time so I was able to recognize you. So...you two are here spying on the competition? Am I right?" Gilbert didn't sound angry, merely amused.

"No." Alan immediately blurted, flushed, and embarrassed.

"Yes." Joan said, a steely glint in her green eyes.

Gilebert raised an eyebrow at Joan's straightforwardness and chuckled in enjoyment. "Don't look so nervous, Alan. I don't mind. It's only wise to spy on your competition. You might learn something after all. But...you won't win. Today all the Christmas clientele _will_ be mine. And I'll prove to Kim just who the better man is, Alan."

"I-I wait, what?" Alan asked and his brow furrowed at the barista's strange words.

"It's become bothersome how Kim goes on and on about you, Alan." Gilebert sneered at the young pub owner. "I need to erase you from her mind. Show her how insignificant you are. I am the better man. And after today she'll see that and forget all about you. Kim belongs to me."

Alan opened his mouth to speak but Joan beat him to it. "Kim doesn't _belong_ to anyone, buddy." Joan's feminist blood was boiling. She slammed her hands on the table and stood up. "And Alan will beat you at your own game. You'll see!"

Gilebert raised an eyebrow at Alan and his lip curled back in distain. "Beat me at my own game? I highly doubt it." He looked Alan over with a look of disgust on his face. "There's no contest, really."

Alan stiffened in his seat. Wow, this guy really managed to rub him the wrong way. He felt like standing up and punching Gilebert right in the face. Alan was surprised by his own violent thoughts and instead clenched his hands into fists on his lap beneath the table.

Joan abruptly grabbed Alan's arm and pulled him up from his chair. "Come on, Alan. We're leaving this joint!"

"Ah, but Joan! Wait!" Alan reached into his wallet and quickly placed a twenty-dollar bill on the table before Joan dragged him out the door of the café.

Joan was fuming, steaming. "Grrrr! That sexist jerk! Treating Kim like his property! We need to teach that jerk a lesson, Alan." She was giving Alan an intense look.

Alan met her determined stare and nodded. "Sure. But what about Kim?"

Joan rolled her eyes. "What about her? Gilebert challenged you, Alan. Are you going to back down from that?"

Alan straightened. "No."

"Good." Joan looked both pleased and surprised. "You know what Alan? You've changed. And for the better."

Alan couldn't stop the goofy smile that formed on his face at the compliment. He knew why he'd changed - it was all thanks to Dante and their self-defense lessons. He felt stronger now, more confident.

When Joan and Alan arrived back at _Dullahan's_ they stripped off their wet jackets and hung them on the hooks by the door. "Hey guys," Joan greeted the others.

"Joan, how did it go? What's Gilebert up to?" Kim asked curiously as she approached her friend.

"Your boyfriend is a narcissistic jerk who likes to fight dirty." Joan began to rant. "He's over there in his café with his shirt off, putting his muscles on display, and flexing his biceps like he's some kind of professional bodybuilder trying to win a contest!"

Kim's jaw dropped. "He's what?"

Joan stalked up to the bar and looked at Dante directly in his golden eyes. She pointed a finger at him. "We need to fight fire with fire. Strip!" She demanded in an imperious manner.

Dante's brows rose to his hair line and he gave Joan an astonished look. He was surprised and kind of annoyed with Joan's sudden boldness. "You can't be serious."

"Dead serious. Strip Dante. Show off your muscles. That way they'll actually be good for _something_." Joan continued and there was an odd tinge of bitterness in her tone.

Dante's eyes narrowed. Joan had no right to treat him this way. He'd only ever been kind to the female and had even decided to stay away from her for her own good. "No. I will not show off my body to a bunch of inferior human women!" Dante snapped. _Oh shit._

_Inferior human women? That jerk._ Joan glared at Dante with her hands on her hips. "You're useless."

_Useless?_ Joan's insult hurt. Dante just glared back and lightning seemed to flash between their gazes.

Alan decided to step in and try to break up the strange argument. "Er...Dante you don't have to strip. But would you be adverse to wearing a Santa hat?"

"Santa hat?" Dante questioned, his attention shifting to his boss.

Alan waved his hand at the life-size Santa doll. "Like his, you know, a Santa hat?"

"Oh, yes, of course. A Santa hat. I..." Dante thought about the request and sighed. It was better than having to strip! "Alright, Boss. I'll wear it."

Alan whooped in triumph. "Great. And I'll make some festive costumes for the girls to wear. That was Joan's idea by the way."

Joan nodded and crossed her arms over her chest as she tried to contain her anger towards Dante. She didn't know why she was angry with him all of a sudden. It wasn't like he had done anything wrong. Well, except for completely ignoring her after that kiss they had shared. That electric, sizzling kiss that kept her awake at night.

"Ooo that sounds interesting." Carmen sashayed over to the group. "I want something very revealing, Alan. That should definitely help your cause. Something like a bikini top and a mini skirt." She winked. "Let's see if this Gilebert can truly compete with my...sex appeal. Though I highly doubt it."

"Alright, Carmen." Alan made a mental note to make Carmen's elf costume revealing.

"Festive costumes?" Kim echoed, looking unsure all of a sudden. "Do we have to?"

Joan draped her arm around Kim's shoulders. "We're lucky we have an actual supermodel in our midst! This is going to be great."

"Uh, yea." Kim agreed, somewhat unsurely.

"Don't worry, Kim, I'll make you something that you'll look beautiful in." Alan assured her, excited to have his fantasy of Kim in a red Santa girl dress come true. _She is going to look so hot._ "You're going to love it."

"Yea. I'm sure I will." Kim agreed and no one seemed to notice that her eyes were darting towards the front door as if she wished to flee.

"Make my outfit conservative. You know how I like to dress." Joan told Alan and reached out to ruffle her boss' hair.

"Got it." Alan saluted Joan before he headed upstairs to his room and began to quickly sew the girls their costumes. It only took Alan an hour to make the three costumes for the girls and a Santa hat for Dante. He returned to the main restaurant area with the costumes in his arms. He handed Carmen her costume first, then handed Joan hers, and lastly handed Kim her Santa dress. Carmen held up her green and gold bikini top and grinned. "Oh, this is perfect. The human men won't be able to resist me!" She skipped off to the bathroom to change.

_Did she just say 'human men'? The people who work here are so weird._ Joan lifted up her elf girl dress with its long, draping, belled sleeves and grinned. "It's perfect Alan." She was about to head to the bathroom to change, however-

When Kim lifted up the strapless red and white Santa dress her expression darkened. "Wait...what the hell is this supposed to be, Alan?"

Joan stopped in her tracks and turned around curiously to see what all the fuss was about.

Alan blinked, "A Santa girl costume?"

A muscle ticked beneath Kim's eye. "Why does it have to be so...slutty? Do you think I'm a slut, Alan? That I like to parade around in skimpy outfits showing off my body? You don't respect me at all do you, Alan?" She demanded hotly and her amber colored eyes were blazing.

"Uh..." Alan faltered, as he took a step back, not sure how to respond. _Is this a trick question?_ Kim was a swimsuit model after all. Of course she enjoyed prancing around in skimpy outfits and showing off her body, right? But Kim had sounded hurt, offended even - like Alan had somehow betrayed her. This hurt him. Alan had only wanted to make Kim happy and he'd failed. He decided to apologize even if he didn't know what he was apologizing for. "I'm sorry I-"

Joan was equally confused by Kim's strange reaction. She _knew_ Kim. Had been friends with her since high school! Kim was very confident in her appearance and proud of her body that she went through so much work to take care of. Kim dieted religiously and went to the gym five times a week! So, of course, Kim loved to show off her perfect body with revealing clothing. Kim loved being a supermodel, loved the attention her gorgeous body got her, so what the hell had changed? Kim wasn't acting like her usual showy, confident, brazen self at all. Something must have happened. But what? Joan decided that she'd get to the bottom of this mystery as well.

Joan cut off Alan's apology. "Ah...is that a Santa girl costume? Er, Kim would you mind dressing as an elf instead? I... _really_ want to dress like a Santa girl." Joan tried to sound excited but her voice sounded strained instead. Her supposed excitement at the prospect of dressing in a slutty red Santa girl dress was obviously a ruse.

Everyone was stunned into silence, not really getting what was going on. Dante was looking at Joan as if she'd grown a second head. Joan had been extremely clear with Alan that she wanted a conservative outfit. Joan was a feminist and didn't believe in wearing skirts! Alan allowed Joan to waitress in pants or jeans, and this is one of the reasons why Joan enjoyed working there. Other bars and restaurants wanted their waitresses in short skirts at all times. _Will Joan really put on that skimpy Santa girl costume?_ Dante wondered, anticipation thrumming through his veins at the prospect.

Alan was also looking at Joan quizzically. She sounded falsely excited by the prospect of wearing the Santa girl costume. Her words were like another dagger to his heart. _What the hell is going on? Something is my fault but I can't figure out what I did wrong._ Alan reached into his pants' pocket and wrapped his hand around his inhaler, just in case.

Joan offered Kim the elf dress and handed it to her. Kim was looking at Joan as if she were her savior. Her expression was very emotional, and her eyes were glistening slightly as if she were trying to hold back tears. "Joan...sure, I'll wear the elf costume instead."

The two girls swapped costumes. "Thanks." Joan said and tried to look happy.

Alan bit his lower lip. He wanted to ask Kim what was wrong? What was she hiding? But...he decided to keep his mouth shut. Joan had obviously wanted to protect Kim from 'something'. He felt out of the loop. "Joan, if you want I can make you another outfit-" Alan began, graciously.

Joan waved her hand through the air, cutting him off. "No, didn't I already say that I _want_ to wear the Santa girl costume instead?" She said unshakably. "I'm so glad Kim is _letting_ me. Besides, you still have to make Fred and Hilda their Mr. and Mrs. Claus costumes." She grabbed Kim's arm with a smile plastered on her face. "Let's go change, Kim!"

"Okay." Kim agreed, keeping her head down so that her bangs were shielding her expression.

The three young women changed into their festive costumes, and then made their way back into the main restaurant area from the girl's bathroom. The few customers seated around _Dullahan's_ 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the sight of the girls in costume. Kim was dressed in the elf girl costume - a green and red, knee-length dress with belled sleeves. At the very end of the sleeves was a tiny gold bell. A pair of green leggings hugged Kim's shapely legs and on her feet there were a pair of red shoes with curled toes. A red and green cone-shaped hat sat on her head that flopped over to one side and had a bell on the end of it.

Alan thought she looked super cute. Cute wasn't her usual look, but she pulled it off nicely. Alan looked Kim over and grinned. "You look adorable, Kim."

Kim fidgeted with her hands clasped before her nervously but she looked up at Alan's words. A pink tinge came to her cheeks and she looked surprised by Alan's kind words. She'd been such a bitch to him earlier. "Er, thanks. Look, Alan, I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier, I-"

But Alan cut her off. "Naw, don't worry about."

Again Kim seemed taken aback by how easily Alan was forgiving her.

Joan shyly stepped out from behind Kim. "I bet I look ridiculous. The top of the dress had too much room and Kim had to use like a hundred safety pins to fix it. I don't have the boobs to wear something like this." She complained.

Dante's gaze zeroed in on Joan and he drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. _Wow._ He'd never seen Joan showing so much skin. She even had _cleavage_! And that short, red dress really showed off Joan's long, nicely toned legs that seemed to just go on forever and ever. The dress was strapless, and the collar was decorated with white fur. The bottom of the dress was also decorated with white fur. She had on red gloves that went up to her elbows, and the tops of the gloves had been decorated with white fur. A Santa hat sat upon her head. Joan was flushed from her embarrassment, only adding to her femininity.

Dante could feel all of the blood in his body rushing south at the sight of her. "Gorgeous." He complimented in a husky voice. The demon didn't really realize that he'd said that out loud either. He was supposed to be distancing himself from Joan after all, not admitting that he found her attractive. Dante was glad that he was behind the bar since there was no way he would have been able to hide his erection.

Startled, Joan's green eyes focused on Dante. Did that demon just call her gorgeous? No way. Joan turned even redder and tugged at the bottom of the dress self-consciously. Why had Alan made this thing so short? Well, obviously he'd wanted to see Kim in this thing, so she couldn't really blame her boss.

"You gentlemen have seen nothing yet!" Came a sultry female voice with a Spanish accent.

All eyes turned to Carmen. She was wearing an elf girl costume that consisted of a green and gold bikini top that her full breasts were practically falling out of, and a short, dark green mini skirt. Plenty of the Latin beauty's olive-hued skin was on display. There was a thick, black belt with an over-sized, golden buckle around her waist. A green Santa hat with a white fur ball on its end sat on her head. And a pair of cute elf shoes with curled toes were on her feet. Her flat stomach was on display and the mini skirt showed off her toned legs. Her boobs seemed to bounce as Carmen crossed her arms under her chest on purpose. "Well, what do you all think?"

_Va Va Va Voom._ Alan could feel himself getting aroused at the sight of the scantily clad Carmen, but he didn't even like her romantically. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, confused by his body's reaction. Apparently, she just had that effect on his body. "Wow." Alan murmured.

Carmen looked pleased by Alan's innocent reaction. She sauntered up to him and stroked Alan's cheek, making his entire body tremble. "Sweet boy."

Kim gawked at Carmen's risqué outfit. _Like oh my God. What the hell?_ "More like pervert boy. Alan...I can't believe you made Carmen an outfit like that! So you wanted to see her in next to nothing, did you? Hmph! Pervert! And I thought better of you..." The supermodel shook her head with a disappointed look on her face.

_No, the one I wanted to see in next to nothing was you._ Alan thought to himself. Then he began to turn red as he realized that Kim had just called him a pervert. _Me? A pervert? No way._ "P-Pervert? No...it's not like that. Kim, I- Carmen wanted an outfit like that. She asked me to make it like that. I swear!" Alan begged, willing Kim to understand. He didn't like the thought of Kim thinking he was some kind of degenerate.

"Hmph! I don't believe you!" Kim said as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Carmen laughed and her laughter was musical, like ringing Christmas bells. She turned her attention to Dante, sashayed over to the bar, slid onto one of the barstools, and crossed her legs. "How about you, Dante? What do you think of my new outfit?"

Dante had been polishing a glass as he tried not to look at Joan and tried to will his hard-on away. He looked up and met Carmen's eyes. He glanced down and his eyes widened slightly at the outfit Alan had made the pianist. Was Alan a closet-pervert or something? He'd have to have a little chat with Alan about this later. The demon quickly looked back up at her eyes. "You look...indecent." Dante finally said after a short pause.

Joan snorted as she tried to hold back her laughter. _Ha! Take that Carmen._ Even Kim looked amused by Dante's rather dry response.

Carmen pouted at the bartender's coldness towards her. "Indecent or did you mean decadent?" She reached out, picked up a Maraschino cherry, popped it into her mouth, and chewed. "Mmm." She moaned sensually.

"Save the _act_ for outside. You girls are going to roast chestnuts, right?" Dante asked, strategically changing the subject. "Make sure to preheat your grill to four hundred degrees Fahrenheit. If the chestnuts are small enough to fall through the cooking grate, place them in a grill topper, Grill Wok, or in a pie tin with holes punched in the bottom. Otherwise, place the chestnuts directly on the cooking grate. Cooking time should roughly be fifteen minutes, but watch them carefully to prevent burning. Chestnuts should be turned or tossed around on the grill every five minutes so that they cook evenly and the shells do not burn excessively." Dante began to recite the instructions he'd read online word for word.

"Act? My desire for you is no-" Carmen was saying when Joan cut her off with a clap of her hands.

"Yes! That's right, Dante. Girls let's go roast some chestnuts!" Joan urged as she put her arms around Carmen and Kim's shoulders, and began to escort them towards the door.

Carmen pouted, looking put out, and tapped her bottom lip with her index finger. "Oh, alright."

"'Kay." Kim easily agreed.

With Dante and Alan's help the portable grill was carried outside and the girls began to roast chestnuts. The smell was divine. Nostalgic. It had stopped snowing and there was a layer of glittering snow upon the ground. It was still cold old but by standing close to the grill the girls were able to stay warm even while wearing their skimpy, festive costumes.

Joan had never felt more embarrassed or self-conscious in all her life. Sometimes when she dressed in a skirt - she even felt afraid, but not now. Dante was just inside of _Dullahan's_ and she knew that if she called out to him he would be there in a second. The thought surprised her though. _I shouldn't count on a demon. He may help 'Joan Simone' but he would kill Jeanne d'Arc God's Chosen Warrior. If he knew who I really was...he'd hate me._ A frown formed on her face at the dour thought. _If he knew the truth about me...would he be able to forgive me?_

Joan looked over at her friend Kim who was now laughing and smiling with Carmen as they greeted customers, sold chestnuts, and ushered clients inside of the pub. The men who had been in line for _Cornelia Street Café_ seemed to _smell_ the roasting chestnuts and flocked towards Carmen like bees to honey. It was...odd. And a little similar to the phenomenon of Gilebert at _Cornelia Street Café_. Were Gilebert and Carmen such sensual people that they just had power over normal people? Was this normal? Were their pheromones just that strong? Joan mused.

Carmen seemed to be soaking up the attention \- literally. Her skin looked like it was glowing.

In about an hour the line at _Cornelia Street Café_ had decreased to half and it took one more hour for the line to go down completely. Word had spread from the other young ladies who'd already entered _Dullahan's_ that the stoic, serious Dante was actually wearing a Santa hat and a red bow tie.

_Dullahan's_ clientele seemed to be aware that Dante was _not_ like Gilebert and would not be the type to take his shirt off. They all seemed pretty surprised that Dante was even wearing a Santa hat with a fuzzy white ball on the end. And they were definitely pleased by it - if their reaction was anything to go by. The female clients of _Dullahan's_ were snapping photos of Dante with their smart phones and others were taking photos of themselves with Dante in the background.

The girls were making such a fuss about it that Joan decided to go inside and take a quick look for herself. Joan entered _Dullahan's_ and her green eyes went to the bar where Dante was standing behind the bar and showing off his bartending skills by preparing several festive cocktails all at once. The green and red tinted glasses were decorated with mini candy canes, Maraschino cherries, and other tiny, festive, plastic decorations like mini Santas and reindeer. The Christmas cocktails looked amazing. Like tiny works of art.

As Dante poured the mixed drinks into a row of glasses the girls all cheered loudly for the handsome bartender. "Eeee! Dante!" "We love you!" "Merry Christmas Dante!" "Eeee, he looks so cute in that hat!" "I can't believe he's wearing it!"

There was a faint pink tinge to Dante's cheeks as he let the women's comments wash over him. Joan wondered if he were actually embarrassed by all of the attention. Naw. She had to admit though the stoic demon sort of looked...adorable in that hat. _Thank you, Alan._

Dante could feel Joan's eyes upon him. _And now to show Joan that I'm the opposite of useless._ Dante thought to himself as he set out ten shot glasses in a row down the bar. _This drink works on the oil and water principle, each of these liquids has a different density._ Dante grabbed a shaker, and a bottle of grenadine. He poured the grenadine into the shaker and then added a few cubes of ice. After that he grabbed the sweat and sour and added some to the shaker before adding a few more cubes of ice.

Then he added orange juice, and after that vodka. Now was the tricky part. The blue curasao's density caused it to sink, so once added it was a race to start pouring. Dante added the blue curasao along the rim and put a strainer on top of the tin. He immediately began to pour the shots one after the other. The first shot was blue, the one after that green, the one after that yellow, and the ones after that were varying shades of yellow. The shots got darker in color and became orange. The last shots were pink and the very last one dark red.

"Ooo awesome! Rainbow shots!" "You the man Dante!" Various patrons cheered.

Joan was having a hard time not smiling. _Okay, Dante, I'll admit, that was pretty cool._

"See something you like?" Came Kim's teasing voice from beside her.

Joan jumped and turned to her friend in surprise. "W-What? I don't _like_ Dante." She immediately refuted.

"Pfft." Kim snorted. "I think you may even be in love with him. I've never seen you so hung up on a guy before. Your eyes follow him all the time. Do you even realize that?"

"W-What? That's crazy!" Joan immediately objected, but she couldn't help but wonder if Kim's words were true. Did her eyes follow Dante? She wondered if he noticed. That would be incredibly embarrassing.

Joan and Kim switched to waitressing tables inside of the pub now that it was full. Around five o'clock PM Carmen entered the pub, made her way over to the piano, and began to perform more holiday favorites.

_Dullahan's_ was once again packed. Alan smiled goofily to himself at the observation. If he didn't know any better he'd say he'd 'won' the challenge Gilebert had given him. And he'd won it with the costumes he'd made. Although the outfit he'd designed for Kim hadn't worked out. Instead he'd accidentally gotten Kim really mad at him. Alan frowned at the remembrance. And somehow he'd unwittingly insulted her. He hadn't meant to do that at all. _Stupid. Stupid._ Alan thought to himself. Now Kim thought that he considered her a slut. So in a way maybe he'd lost the challenge to Gilebert after all. He just wanted Kim to be happy.

Kim felt a heated gaze on her and turned to catch Alan staring at her. Her brows rose and Alan blushed before quickly turning away from Kim. He was clearly flustered that he'd been caught staring at her. Alan ran right smack into the Santa doll and fell on top of it with a crash.

"Alan!" Kim quickly made her way over to his side. She crouched next to him. "You okay?"

Alan groaned, and didn't want to raise his head to look at Kim. This was humiliating. _Stupid, stupid_. "Yea."

Kim helped Alan to stand. "Kim I-" Alan began, however-

"Well, look what we have here?" Came a drawling, French accented voice.

"Eeee! It's Gilebert!" Several female patrons exclaimed in excitement. Gilebert was still shirtless and exuding pheromones. Gilebert looked over at Dante and noted the Santa hat that was on top of the demon's head. After that he noticed Carmen dressed as a sexy elf. "I see...you have some powerful allies, Alan Dullahan. Unexpected allies indeed." He acknowledged with a slight nod.

Carmen's eyes widened as she looked at Gilebert. "He's like me." She muttered darkly to herself.

Gilebert strode towards Alan with purposeful steps. "I believe you've won this challenge. But you haven't won the war, if you know what I mean?" His attention turned to Kim, his expression confident. He put out his hand. "Come along, Kim. It's time to go."

Kim took a step towards Gilebert before she stopped, and clenched her hands into fists at her sides. Her entire body was trembling, resisting his pull and allure with all of her strength and mental willpower. "No." She said softly.

Gilebert's golden eyes narrowed at Kim fiercely. "What?"

Kim lifted her chin in defiance. She may have been afraid of Gilebert, but it was about time she stood her ground. Being surrounded by all her friends gave Kim strength to do what she was about to do. "I said 'no'. I'm sorry Gilebert, but I'm not going with you. It's over between us."

Gilebert blinked at Kim in disbelief. He dug his nails into his palms as he tried to keep his temper under control. "You don't know what you're saying. Kim, you must obey me. You belong to me."

"Kim doesn't belong to anyone!" Joan spoke up as she had before. The waitress approached her best friend and stood beside her with her hands on her hips, green eyes flashing. "I already told you, buddy."

"Kim." Gilebert ignored Joan and his voice was full of dark warnings.

Kim shuddered but she continued to stand her ground. "Go."

"I will not." Gilebert was saying until Dante was suddenly standing in front of Gilebert and blocking Kim from view.

"I believe the young lady asked you to leave." Dante rumbled in a rough voice.

Gilebert raised an eyebrow at Dante. "Lady? I don't see any ladies around here."

Dante punched Gilebert hard across the face. Gilebert's head snapped to the side and he staggered backwards a few steps. Several gasps resounded throughout the pub. Dante was already raising his fist for a second attack but Alan placed a hand on Dante's arm to stop him. "Dante."

Dante lowered his fist.

Gilebert raised his hand and wiped the blood from his mouth. He looked down at the blood on his fingers with a look of horror. "You punched me. You actually punched _me_. Oh, you'll pay for this...Dante." Gilebert began to approach Dante but that's when he noticed that Carmen had stood up from her piano chair and was giving him a rather murderous look. Gilebert stopped in his tracks. _Shit._ There were too many people against him at the moment. Better to leave and cut his loses for the time being, he decided.

Gilebert's golden eyes locked with Kim's amber-colored eyes. "You'll regret this, Kim." He said lowly before turning on his heel and stomping out of the pub. He slammed the door behind him so hard that the door rattled in its frame.

Dante didn't like that threat to Kim one bit, and wanted to go after him, but Alan's arm was still on his arm stopping him. _Damnation!_

Kim's strength suddenly left her and she ended up sinking to her knees. "I did it...I can't believe I did it. I actually broke up with him." She began to laugh brokenly, almost hysterically.

"Kim." Concerned, Alan made his way over to Kim and knelt by her side. He placed his hand on her back and stroked her back in order to soothe her.

Kim turned to look at Alan with watery eyes. "Oh, Alan...hold me." She pleaded before flinging her arms around Alan's neck and burying her face in his chest.

Alan looked floored but after a moment he wrapped his arms gently around Kim. He treated her preciously, like glass, as if she would break. Kim loved that.

Worry and confusion swirled in Alan's blue eyes. He still didn't really get what was going on. Why had Kim broken up with Gilebert? It just didn't make any sense. Why would she want to give up a handsome man like that? Why would she have let him go?

Alan wanted to know what had happened between them, but he also didn't want to ruin this moment. Carmen looked pleased as she watched Alan comforting Kim. "Thank God she broke up with that jerk."

Joan was also pleased that Kim had broken up with Gilebert. The guy had given her the creeps for some reason. But she was also confused and curious about why her friend had decided to finally break up with him.

Dante was stiff as he tried to contain his anger. Every fiber of his being wanted him to go after Gilebert and beat the man into a pulp. But his loyalty to Alan was holding him back. _Nonviolent. I must handle things in a nonviolent manner._

***

Later that evening, Joan returned to her apartment in high spirits and Michael was there waiting for her. "Joan! Thank God you're finally home! Your Demon Detector has been going off like crazy! You need to hurry up and transform. We need to go and slay those lesser demons immediately!" The Archangel insisted.

Joan let out a heavy sigh. As if she needed more on her plate to deal with. "Yea, yea." She made her way into her bedroom and saw that her Demon Detector aka her silver cross - was indeed glowing, pulsing with a golden light. There were lesser demons nearby. Joan picked up the cross and put it around her neck. She struck a pose. "Transform! Jeanne d'Arc!" Joan cried and she transformed.

Brilliant, gleaming, golden armor formed on her body consisting of an ornate chest-plate, a metal skirt with spikes on it, arm bracers, and greaves. Her armor was decorated with the images of crosses. Her holy sword appeared strapped to her waist. Though her sword was not the one she'd used to seal Dante to that fig tree, it was just as powerful and had also been given to her by God.

In this form she was invisible to humans unless she wanted them to see her. Joan strode over to the windowed balcony doors and threw them open. Michael moved past Joan and onto the balcony where he quickly transformed too. The golden retriever increased in size until he was six hundred pounds and a pair of white, feathery wings emerged from his back. Joan soon followed and mounted the gigantic dog. She grabbed onto the fur of his neck and held on tight. "Alright, let's go!" Joan said.

"About time." Michael huffed as he stretched his wings, flapped them, and took off into the sky. They soared over her balcony, over the streets, speeding cars, buildings and skyscrapers. Joan's Demon Detector would flash and glow more brightly when a lesser demon was near. That's when Michael would swoop down and land close by so that Joan could unsheathe her holy sword and dispatch the lesser demon. She was even able to slay demons that had already possessed human beings. She merely would stab her sword through the human, and her sword would only affect the demon that was inside of the human, destroying it completely.

Joan noted that there were even more lesser demons around than usual. Perhaps, a gate had been opened. They needed to find the demon who was responsible for this and kill him or her before things got even more out of control.

Joan wondered for like the hundredth time if the demon responsible for this was Dante. But...she didn't really want to know because she had the feeling that when she found out the truth that she'd have to kill Dante.

At that moment, Joan's Demon Detector flashed rapidly with a gold light. Joan peered down over Michael's shoulder to see if she could spot the lesser demon. What she did spot was Kim's apartment building. Joan's stomach flip-flopped. _No, no, no._ Kim couldn't be in trouble. But Joan had a bad feeling about this. There were rarely such things as coincidence in her line of work.

"Michael. Take me down to Kim's balcony." Joan ordered.

"Right." The guardian dog flew down and landed on Kim's balcony.

Joan hopped off Michael's back and made her way to the double doors. They were locked, but Joan just raised her armored boot and kicked the doors in. She entered Kim's bedroom and could see residual demonic energy - it was everywhere. _Crap._ "Kim..." A demon had obviously been inside of her room and there appeared to have been a struggle.

Joan spotted a broken lamp on the floor and Kim's dresser had been overturned. There were claw marks on the walls, claw marks on a pillow that had been ripped open, and feathers were everywhere. It appeared as if Kim had tried to use the pillow as a makeshift shield at some point. And there was blood. Blood on the mattress, floor, and splattered on the walls.

Joan saw red. She only knew of one demon in New York City and that was Dante. _That jerk! He's kidnapped Kim! But why?_ He'd probably discovered that Joan was actually Jeanne d'Arc and was out for revenge. He'd probably kidnapped Kim to lure Joan to him. Well, if it was a fight he wanted - it was a fight he was going to get! _How dare he take Kim! Oh, he's going to pay for this._ Joan stomped out of the bedroom and made her way out onto the balcony. Her expression was grim.

"What is it?" Michael asked, concernedly, noticing her murderous look. "Where's Kim?"

"Dantalion has her." Joan revealed darkly as she hopped onto Michael's back.

"Dantalion? Dantalion! He's alive? Here in the city? What's going on, Joan?" Michael demanded and his tone had taken on an accusatory edge.

Joan flinched, and guilt swirled inside of her chest. "It's a long story, Michael. But...we're going to go get Kim back first. Let's go. His place is that way." Joan pointed in the direction of Dante's apartment.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady." Michael said, not letting Joan off the hook just yet.

Joan sighed. "I know. But first we find Kim." Joan was determined. Michael nodded before he took off into the sky. She directed Michael to Dante's apartment building and then to his apartment's balcony. They landed. "Wait here." She hopped off of Michael and approached the double doors. She kicked them open and strode inside.

Joan made her way over to Dante's bed. The demon was fast asleep beneath his black, silk sheets without a care in the world it seemed. The jerk. What the hell had he done with Kim? Part of the sheet had slipped down his chest to reveal a nice glimpse of his pale, muscled chest.

He really was beautiful. This only made it harder. Joan was boiling with rage. Had Dante already killed her friend? Joan unsheathed her holy sword and held it out before her. She raised it over Dante's neck. "Dante!" Joan cried angrily as she swung her sword down through the air.

Dante had always been a light sleeper. In Hell it was not unusual for assassins to enter his castle in the middle of the night and try to take his head. If they managed it that would make them the new Duke of his lands and they'd have gained control of the legions under his command. So his well-honed battle reflexes and survival instincts saved him in that moment. He rolled to the side and just narrowly avoided getting his head chopped off.

Dante's eyes snapped open. He was on his back again and he turned his head to look at who had dared to try and kill him! What he saw made his breath catch in his throat. No way. He must still be dreaming. "Jeanne?"

A woman with short hair, green eyes, and who was dressed in achingly familiar shinning, golden armor with a glowing sword in her hands stood next to his bed.

His heart clenched painfully inside of his chest at the sight.

But then 'Jeanne' turned her head to look at him and he saw that the woman's face was different. Though those haunting green eyes were the same. "Joan?" _Joan the waitress?_ _What the hell is going on? Am I dreaming?_

Joan pulled her sword out of the pillow she'd just killed. A few feathers floated up into the air. She turned her fierce gaze on Dante and her eyes narrowed. "Jerk. Where the hell is Kim? What have you done with her, you filthy demon!" Joan leapt up onto the bed and attacked Dante again, sword flashing.

Dante rolled off the bed agilely and stood. "Kim? I haven't seen her since I left _Dullahan's_ earlier this evening _._ "

"Liar!" Joan leapt off the bed and brought her sword down upon Dante in a double-handed downward slash. "Hah!"

Dante easily sidestepped the attack. He had his hands up before him in a surrendering gesture. "I never lie. You know that...Jeanne."

Joan paused and glared at Dante heatedly, fiercely. She was panting for breath. "Then...where is she? At her apartment a demon's essence was everywhere. And the blood...! A demon has taken her!" Joan exclaimed and fear crawled up her spine.

Joan's fear for her friend's well-being gave Dante power. As power began to course through him, horns sprouted out of his head, his incisors lengthened, and a red aura flared around him. "I will locate this demon, and take you to him and to Kim. You have given me enough power to be able to do that now." A tiny smirk formed on the bartender's mouth.

Joan gave Dante a skeptical look, untrusting. "What if you're lying and leading me into a trap?"

Dante was hurt by Joan's lack of trust. If anyone should be distrusting of anyone it was him. Jeanne had betrayed _him_ \- not the other way around! "I'm not. I do not lie, as you know. And...besides, shouldn't Kim be your priority right now? I'm willing to set aside our differences for Kim's sake and you should be willing to do the same. After we find and save Kim...you and I have a lot to _discuss_ , Jeanne d'Arc."

Joan flinched at Dante's cutting words. Dante was right. Kim should be her priority not her conflicting feelings towards Dante. And if Dante really didn't have Kim then...she had to find her friend ASAP. Joan sighed. "You're right. Let's call a truce for now, Dante. After we save Kim though...we will 'talk'."

Dante nodded, expression grim. "Indeed, we shall. Allow me a moment to get dressed."

"Hurry the hell up." Joan huffed.

Dante went over to his closet and opened the door. He peered inside and realized he only owned bartending suits. He'd never realized that before. Apparently, he took his new profession _very_ seriously. Dante quickly dressed and stepped out from behind the closet door.

Joan raised an eyebrow at what Dante was wearing. "We're not going to work, you know."

Dante's cheeks flushed slightly. He didn't blush. "I know. I have no other clothes. Let's go." Dante rumbled, as he strode past Joan and made his way out onto his balcony where he came face to face with a gigantic, winged, golden retriever. The beast was enormous. _What the hell?_ Dante's fingers twitched and he ached to summon his great sword.

The dog's golden-brown eyes widened in shock and recognition as they landed on Dante. "D-Dantalion! He's alive! Joan! Kill him!"

Dante's eyes narrowed at the dog. That voice was awfully familiar. "Michael?" Michael was one of God's Elite Archangels if Dante recalled correctly, and had been the one to put him under the spell that had placed him in a state of enchanted sleep for centuries while he'd been sealed to that God-forsaken fig tree. " _Michael_." Dante growled, his voice full of hatred as he remembered the way the Archangel had looked at Jeanne those centuries ago.

Michael blinked. "You remember me?"

"I don't forget those I have vowed to kill." Dante proclaimed.

The dog stiffened at Dante's words and his lips curled back to reveal his sharp teeth as he growled low in his throat.

Joan walked by and hit Michael on the head. "Michael. We don't have time for this. Dante didn't have Kim. Some other demon has taken her. Dante will lead us to him." Joan quickly explained as she hopped onto the dog's back and gripped his fur.

"Another demon? There are more of these God-forsaken creatures here? Hellfire and Damnation!" Michael swore.

Dante ignored the Archangel and strode towards the edge of his balcony. He summoned his wings and two black, leathery wings emerged from his back. With a few flaps Dante took off into the air. Dante closed his eyes as he concentrated on summoning his demonic power. He reached out his now super keen senses and searched for any sign of another demon - a demon's energy signature to be precise. He reached his senses out further, all across the city. That's when he found him.

There was a powerful, demonic energy signature! And the demon's presence was somewhat...familiar. Dante's eyes snapped opened. "I found him! This way!" Dante called out as he took off, heading in the direction that the demon's presence could be sensed.

Michael and Joan were right behind him. Dante flew swiftly over streets, moving cars, and skyscrapers. The group approached an impressive, luxury apartment building and Dante flew up the side of the tall building heading for the top floor.

Dante landed on a large balcony, and willed his wings to disappear into his back. He waited for Joan before he would make his next move. He breathed in deep and could smell blood. Human blood. Kim's blood. _Shit._ If Kim were dead, Joan would be distraught.

Michael landed on the balcony and Joan dismounted. In his current size Michael would not have been able to fit through the balcony doors, and so he returned to his normal hundred pound golden retriever size.

"I smell Kim's blood." Dante informed Joan in a bleak tone.

Joan ground her teeth and nodded. "Let's go inside." She approached the double doors and used her holy sword to slice through the lock like a hot knife through golden butter. They silently and stealthily made their way inside the Master Bedroom.

With a thought, Dante turned on the lights inside of the bedroom. The bedroom was thankfully empty. A four-poster bed with a canopy and red silk sheets took up most of the space. Chains and leather restraints were attached to the bed's headboard. There was blood on the sheets. Sex toys like leather whips and paddles sat next to the bed on the nightstand. There were also handcuffs, rope and a roll of duct tape sitting on the dresser.

Joan gasped and placed a hand over her mouth at the sight. Whoever this demon was - he was a sicko.

Dante's gaze roved the room and then spotted the portraits on the walls. His mouth thinned into a grim line. "Joan. Don't look at the portraits." Dante warned.

"What? Why not? I don't have to listen to you, you demon!" Joan argued as she stubbornly looked at the portraits. She immediately felt bile rise up her throat at what those portraits revealed. The paintings were of naked women in sexual, sensual poses, but their skin was covered in cuts and bruises. The bruises were awful - large blue and yellow and black, smudges on their skin. Several of the women had black eyes, split lips, and bruises on their breasts, hips and legs.

Joan swayed on her feet at the macabre sight. Dante reached out and placed his hand on her arm to steady her. Whoever they were dealing with was worse than sick and perverted. He was a psychopath. _Kim...no, no, no. Where is Kim?_

At that moment, they heard the sound of a TV on and then a male chuckle. Dante put a finger to his lips and motioned for Joan to follow him out of the bedroom, silently. She nodded in agreement.

Dante opened the bedroom door as quietly as possible, and made his way out into the hallway. Joan followed close behind him and Michael followed her. The Archangel's over-protectiveness would have bothered Dante during normal circumstances, but having the dog there to watch Joan's back at the moment wasn't so bad. Those macabre portraits had also unsettled him. And he was a demon.

They made their way down the hallway and there were more creepy portraits of naked, beaten women on the walls. Joan shuddered. Dante had to resist the urge to reach out, wrap his arms around Joan, and soothe her.

Joan didn't dare to look at the portraits again. What if she saw Kim on the wall? And what would that mean? That Kim was dead? That she'd been killed? What had happened to all those other poor girls? Joan felt sick at the thought.

At the end of the hall, the living room came into view. There was a huge, flat-screen TV currently showing a flesh-fest. The TV was surrounded by two comfortable looking, red leather couches, a couple of armchairs, and a low wooden table. Seated upon one of the couches, and stretched out comfortably was none other than Gilebert. He was still shirtless and dressed in those tight, red leather pants. Apparently, the guy liked the color red. Dante wondered if he should get a new favorite color. Maybe green. The Santa hat and bow tie were absent. Now Gilebert just looked...dangerous. He had a glass of red wine held in his one hand, which he was swirling absentmindedly. The pose reminded Dante of Lucifer for a moment and he shook his head of the memory.

Joan's eyes widened when she saw the curved horns that were sticking out of Gilebert's head. Further proof that he was what she suspected he was - a demon.

Gilebert's eyes were glazed with lust, as he watched the screen where two women and one man were writhing in pleasure. Their moans and groans were filling the room. _Where the hell is Kim?_ Joan wondered, beginning to panic, as she looked around the living room.

A pained groan grabbed Joan's attention and her gaze snapped to the wall. Joan sucked in a breath. There up on the wall was her friend Kim. She was dressed in a fancy, lacy, red bra and matching panties. A red choker was around her neck. Her body had been suspended on the wall by using a series of thick, wooden pegs that had been imbedded into the wall. Kim's limbs had been draped over the pegs.

Thank God the pegs hadn't been stabbed into Kim's limbs at least. Joan sighed in relief and most of her fear fled her at the sight of her friend, alive and well for the most part. Kim's body was covered in ugly bruises. She had a black eye, split lip, and dark blue and yellow bruises covered her hips. Joan tried not to note that the bruises looked like a man's fingers had made them.

_Kim!_ The truth about Kim's odd behavior began to finally sink in. The reason why Kim had changed and grown unhappy with her relationship with Gilebert was suddenly clear. Why Kim had stopped wearing skimpy clothes. It had been to hide her bruises. And the reason Kim hadn't left Gilebert was probably because she'd been afraid of him. And with good reason. The man was a demon and the worst kind! A demon who enjoyed, reveled in human suffering and pain. Joan could not hold herself back a second longer. "Kim!" She ran towards her friend.

"Don't move. Or I will kill Kim with a flick of my wrist before you can even blink." Gilebert droned in a deadly voice that had Joan stopping in her tracks a few feet away form Kim. That voice - it resonated with dark power.

Gilebert turned to face his uninvited guests. He'd recognized Joan's voice but was thoroughly surprised to see her looking like Jeanne d'Arc! "Jeanne?" Gilebert said with obvious surprise, awe, and happiness even in his voice. His golden eyes lit up. He stood up and began to approach her but Dante quickly stood in his path.

Gilebert ignored Dante and continued to speak to Joan as if the bartender weren't there. "Jeanne, is it really you? It's me Gilles de Rais! Your loyal commander!"

Joan blinked, "Gilles?" Gilles de Rais had been in her army. From 1427 to 1435 Gilles had served as a commander in the Royal Army and fought alongside Jeanne d'Arc against the English. Gilles had been her trusted commander, but at the time she'd been grossly unaware of what kind of monster he really was. Present day, Joan Simone, knew all about Gilles de Rais and his sordid past from her high school history class, however.

The things Joan had learned about Gilles in high school flashed through her mind. After he'd retired from military life, he depleted his wealth by staging an extravagant theatrical spectacle of his own composition, and was accused of dabbling in the occult. After 1432 Gilles was accused of engaging in a series of child murders with victims possibly numbering in the hundreds...it was no surprise to Joan that this man's soul had been damned to Hell and that he'd become a demon of the worst kind. Gilles was not the man she'd thought he was when she'd fought side by side with him against the English - he was a monster.

"Gilles de Rais." Joan repeated in a dark tone. "I see. It makes sense that you would go to Hell and become a _demon_." She sneered.

Gilles' eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Ah, I suppose you know of my past since you're looking at me with so much hate, Joan. But...I would never harm _you_."

"How did you escape Hell?" Joan snapped.

"A foolish human summoned me here. They tend to do that. The demon circle he drew was incomplete and so I was able to kill him as soon as I entered the Material Plane. You were my leader once, over five hundred years ago, and...I loved you, Joan. And now...you've been reincarnated, I suppose. How much do you remember of the past? If I had known you'd been reincarnated I would have sought you out immediately. I would have protected you." Gilles took another step forward while giving Joan an urgent look, and willing her to understand how much he truly cared for her.

Joan looked at Gilles in disgust, her eyes lingering on his horns and the long red tail that was swishing behind him, "Protected me? Don't make me laugh, Gilles. You're nothing but a monster. I want nothing to do with you. I'll never forgive you for what you did to Kim!"

Gilles' gaze flickered over to Kim. "Ah, you mean my latest decoration? She's pretty for a human, isn't she?"

"Decoration?" Gilles' callous words made Joan's blood freeze in her veins.

"She's just an inferior human, Joan. Of course...you're special." He was quick to amend. He didn't want to insult Joan after all. "You're not just an ordinary human but _something more_. Join me...we can take over this city together! How about it?" Gilles spread his hands wide. "And then we can take over any city you wish after that! Such a thing would be easy if we were to combine our powers."

Joan shook her head. "No. I have no interest in joining you. I'm taking Kim with me and then-" _I'm going to kill you._

"Kim is my new favorite decoration. I will not let you take her." Gilles interjected. "She provides me with all the energy I need."

"You're an Incubus." Dante stated dryly.

"Bing bing bing. Someone give the bartender a prize." Gilles agreed with a twisted smile.

"So you feed off of her sexual energy during intercourse, but there's no reason for you to harm her." Dante frowned at the realization.

"Ah, guilty. It's not like beating her gives me more power...or does it? I wonder. But...I consider myself to be an artist, you see. I create a work of art by using my fists against the canvas that is that girl's body. And I've never had such a spectacular canvas to work with before. Kim's skin is...shall we say, flawless. Perfect. I've never seen the like." Gilles' gushed as his gaze flickered over to Kim.

"Artist? You think you're an artist?" Joan sneered, "You're sick."

Gilles' eyes narrowed at Joan. "Your cruel words are like daggers to my heart, Joan. You were my _everything_ once. I used to dream about you...fantasize." He ran his tongue over his teeth. "I used to masturbate in my tent while thinking about how you were in the next tent over. I used to daydream about going into that tent and taking you. Unfortunately, Jean d'Aulon kept an annoyingly close watch over you. He used to sit outside of your tent at night, and stay awake the entire night protecting your virtue."

Joan shuddered and she wrapped her arms around herself. "Pervert." She moved towards Kim, risking putting her back to the demon, and reached out to take her friend down from the wall. "I'm getting her out of here."

"I think not." Gilles drawled.

The blink of an eye.

Joan turned her head and gasped. Dante was standing behind her and had caught Gilles' wrist. Gilles had a double-edged, medieval sword in his hand and had been prepared to stab Joan in the back with it. _That jerk!_ That had been close. Too close. If it hadn't been for Dante...Joan would have been badly injured. Or worse.

_I don't owe the demon one. I don't._ Joan told herself.

Gilles was in his full demon form now - horns had sprouted out of his head, his incisors had lengthened, his ears had become slightly pointed, two red, leathery wings had sprouted from his back, and a long tail had emerged behind him that ended in a sharp barb.

Joan hadn't seen him transform. Hadn't seen him summon his sword. _Crap!_ There was no mistaking it - Gilles was powerful.

But Dante was pissed. Gilles had just threatened Joan's life. Horns had sprouted out of Dante's head, his incisors lengthened, his nails turned into claws, and his eyes glowed red. "How dare you try to harm her, Gilles! Joan is _mine_!" Dante growled.

Joan shot Dante an astonished look. "I'm _not_ yours!" She huffed.

A muscle ticked beneath Dante's eye. "Just shut up and let me protect you, Joan!" The demon shot back.

Gilles' expression turned murderous at Dante's possessive words. "Yours? I think not, Dantalion! You already failed Joan once. I won't permit you to get close to her again. Joan should have fallen in love with me five hundred and eighty-four years ago. _Not_ you! I _will_ kill you!" Gilles yanked his hand out of Dante's grip and attacked the bartender instead of Joan.

Dante dodged out of the way. _Damnation!_ If only he had enough power to summon his sword...but he didn't. Unlike Gilles he hadn't been busy harvesting fear and therefore demonic energy from the humans. The only weapons Dante had at his disposal at the moment were his claws.

Gilles let out a cry and attacked Dante viciously with his sword. Dante lithely dodged the attacks and blocked blows with his claws. Steel clashed against claws. "Die! Die! Die! Dantalion!" Gilles roared with a psychotic glint in his golden eyes.

"Gilles!" Dante shouted back as the two demons dueled.

However, as Dante fought against Gilles he could feel his demonic energy draining. He only had the 'fear energy', which he'd collected from Joan earlier...and it was already draining. His claws were becoming weaker. Soon they would be unable to block the sword blows. Soon he wouldn't be fast enough to dodge those attacks. Soon he wouldn't be able to protect Joan.

_Blazes!_ "Joan! Take Kim and get out of here!" Dante roared as he swiped his claws, aiming at Gilles' throat.

"But...what about you?" Joan was surprised that she was hesitating.

"Forget about me! Go! Gilles is too powerful!" Dante warned.

Gilles' smile widened at Dante's words and he swung his sword at the bartender's head. Dante raised his claws to block the blow but this time Gilles' sword cut through Dante's claws. Dante was forced to leap backwards lest he lose his head.

"Dante!" Joan cried out in worry. This surprised Dante. Her tone of voice had almost been...worried.

"What's the matter, Dante?" Gilles taunted. "Running low on demonic power? That's what you get for playing nice with the humans, when you should have been torturing them and gaining power! What were you doing at _Dullahan's_ anyways? Were you actually working there as a bartender? How ridiculous!"

Joan couldn't help but wonder the same thing.

However, at that moment, Dante's horns and claws abruptly disappeared. He was fully human once more.

Gilles increased the speed of his attacks and Dante tried to dodge them, but he couldn't _see_ the next attack before it was too late. _Stab._ Gilles ran his sword right through Dante's stomach.

"Dante! No!" Joan shouted as she watched the bartender get impaled.

Gilles cackled merrily, as he slid his sword out of Dante's body. Blood gushed out of the sword wound and blood trickled down from the corner of Dante's mouth. Dante looked at the wound in his stomach in disbelief. He couldn't believe a mere sex demon had bested him! _Damnation._ He sunk to his knees as dark spots danced in front of his eyes.

Gilles approached menacingly, and raised his sword. "Good riddance, Dantalion." He swung his sword, aiming for Dante's neck.

"No!" Joan cried. In an instant, she was in front of Dante and blocking the sword blow with her holy sword. Her body had moved on its own and she'd saved Dante - her enemy. _I'll think about that later._ Joan told herself. At that moment Gilles was her greater enemy.

Michael had been watching the fight and wondering what his next move should be when suddenly Joan stepped in and saved Dante. _For Heaven's sake!_ The Archangel swore in his mind and hoped God would forgive his swearing.

Gilles was looking at Joan in bewilderment. "You saved him. A demon."

"Dante is my prey, Gilles. I'm the only one who can kill him!" Joan announced, raising her chin.

Gilles' lip curled into an amused smile. "Is that so, Jeanne? Do you really intend to fight _me_? You won't win, you know. I'm more powerful than you can imagine. I've been feasting upon women's sexual energy for hundreds of years."

"We'll see about that." Joan shot back as she pulled back her sword and swung it at Gilles.

Gilles raised his sword and blocked the blow easily. "Jeanne d'Arc. Do you realize how famous you've become after you died? In 1909 you were beatified and in 1920 you were canonized. There have been poems, plays, songs and now even movies made about you. You're famous. A celebrity. Important. Special. These lowly humans should be bowing before you. Worshipping you. You could become a goddess among these primitive humans."

"A goddess?" Joan scoffed.

"Why not rule by my side, Jeanne? The Apocalypse draws near anyways. And I plan to be on the winning side. I won't fight to stop Lucifer from conquering the Earth with his legions of demons this time...but once the war is over I will swoop in and perhaps claim New York City as my own. Maybe Washington DC after that and Miami too. All of my favorite cities. I _will_ rule, Jeanne. That's why I've been gathering as much power as I can. When I hurt women during sex the energy I harvest...it becomes darker, Jeanne. I can feel it. And evil is more powerful than good!"

"How many women have you tortured and killed Gilles?" Joan demanded as she attacked Gilles again and again.

"Over the last hundred years? Oh, I'd say hundreds, probably more. But they enjoyed it, Jeanne. Well, except for when I grew bored of them and killed them of course." He shrugged.

"You're a monster, Gilles! And God will judge you for you sins. But for the moment, I will judge you myself. And I find you guilty. You will pay for your crimes. I will punish you for your sins, Gilles. With death." Joan's expression was hard and uncompromising.

"You would kill me, Jeanne? Send me back to Hell? After everything I did for you five hundred and eighty-four years ago? You would kill your beloved Gilles?" Gilles gawked back at Joan for a moment before his expression darkened. "Ungrateful cunt. If you won't stand with me Jeanne, then you stand against me. I won't kill you. You're much too precious, but...I will have a new decoration for my wall!"

Gilles and Joan fought against each other, and their swords clashed, sending sparks into the air. They swung their massive double-edged swords at each other, the sound ringing through the apartment. _Clang. Clang. Clang._

"So beautiful. So powerful." Gilles complimented Joan. "You haven't changed a bit. I couldn't beat you in a one-on-one fight back then but...now things are different. I'm a demon. And I need not out-fight you. I just need to out-smart you. Everyone has a weakness, Joan."

"Shut up! I have no weaknesses!" She snapped. "You will die, Gilles! I'm sending you back to Hell!" Joan attacked Gilles even more ferociously than before.

Gilles merely smiled, "Poor Joan...did Michael never mention to you what your greatest weakness is? You're wide open."

"Wh-what?" Joan asked as she raised her sword to block the oncoming sword blow-

The sword slipped past Joan's defenses but went right over her shoulder close to her neck.

"Oh no...Joan! Look out!" Michael called out a warning.

Slice.

Too late.

Gilles' sword cut through the chain that was around Joan's neck - the enchanted cross fell from Joan and hit the floor. As soon as Joan lost the cross she transformed back into the mortal human, Joan Simone. She was no longer Saint Jeanne d'Arc. Her sword had vanished into thin air.

"My sword!" Joan gripped the thin air in disbelief. "No!" She lunged for the cross but Gilles kicked it across the room and put his sword to Joan's throat. Joan glared up at Gilles heatedly, defiantly. "Damn you, Gilles."

"Joan, Joan, Joan." Gilles tsked. "You should be begging me for mercy and forgiveness. Not cursing me. Foolish girl."

"I would never beg you for anything, you monster!" Joan spat at Gilles' face.

A glob of spit hit Gilles' cheek causing his nostrils to flare, and he tossed his sword to his other hand so he could use his right hand to backhand Joan hard across the face.

Joan cried out as she was sent flying sideways. As soon as she landed on the floor she crawled across the floor and hid behind the couch. That's when she whipped out her cell phone and quickly dialed Alan's cell phone number. Since she was behind the couch Gilles couldn't see what she was doing. After three rings he picked up.

" _Joan? Do you have an idea what time it is?_ " Alan said over the phone and yawned.

Joan rattled off her current address quickly and then said: "Did you get that, Alan? Please come. Kim is here...she's hurt and she's in danger." _If Alan comes...he'll be afraid. That fear will empower Dante and then maybe together we can defeat this jerk._ "Dante and I...we tried to rescue her but Gilebert, he-"

Gilles grabbed the phone out of Joan's hand and wagged his finger at her. "Bad girl." He put the phone up to his ear. "Is this Alan?"

" _Gilebert?_ " Alan asked.

"That's right. I can't believe Joan called _you_ of all people for help. She really must be desperate. But there's nothing a coward like you could do against someone like me, Alan. There's no way you'll be able to save the woman you love. And you do love Kim, don't you, Alan? But you won't come and save her. And do you want to know why? Because...I'm something you can't even begin to comprehend, Alan. I'm a demon. And if you come here you will die a slow, painful death because I will kill you and enjoy it." Gilles ended the call before Alan could respond, threw the cell phone down on the floor, and crushed it under his boot. "Your fearlessness will be your undoing, Joan. Your friend Alan will not come. He's probably pissing in his pants right about now." Gilles laughed cruelly.

Joan bit her lower lip because Gilles was right. She should be terrified right then but she wasn't. She was a battle-hardened warrior and since Kim was still _alive_ and well, there was _hope_. Alan would come. He'd be scared out of his mind but he _would_ come. That's when Dante would regain his strength and save them all. _I'm not relying on him._ Joan tried to convince herself. "Fuck you!" She actually swore, surprising Gilles immensely. "And you're wrong. Alan _will_ come."

Gilles just smiled at Joan and looked her over, his eyes roving over her body slowly, lingering on her breasts and hips. "You will make a lovely new decoration." Gilles reached his hand towards Joan, however-

Michael leapt through the air with a growl and bit down on Gilles' wrist. Gilles roared out in pain as Michael sunk his teeth deeply into Gilles' flesh. "Fucking dog!" He twisted his sword in his grasp and stabbed the dog with it. Michael yelped in pain.

"No! Michael!" Joan cried out, tears filling her green eyes. Joan became filled with fear for her friend and guardian angel in that instant.

Dante's unconscious body twitched.

Gilles pulled his sword out of the dog's body and kicked it aside. "Stupid dog...got in my way." The demon gave the fallen creature a pensive look. "He'll make a nice decoration too. Now, where was I...?" Gilles approached Joan and reached his hand out towards her again. Joan bit his hand as soon as it got near her and she sunk her teeth in. "Fucking bitch!" Gilles roared.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Dante's hand twitching. He realized that Joan's fear was giving him power. "Oh no, you don't." Gilles said before he backhanded Joan with his other hand. She saw stars before darkness consumed her. Gilles couldn't have Dante recovering his strength with Joan's fear anytime soon and so he'd been forced to knock Joan unconscious. Gilles looked down at Joan's unconscious form and ran his tongue over his teeth. _Now to undress her._

_To be continued..._ in Drink 12: Le Vin de Merde

Dantalion: "Good evening, lowly human, so you wish to know how to make all of the Christmas cocktails that were mentioned earlier? Well, let us begin with how to make the Peppermint Stick. Add 1 1/2 ounces of white crème de cacao, 1 ounce of cream, and 1 ounce peppermint schnapps to your shaker tin with ice. Shake and strain ingredients into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a small peppermint candy cane and serve.

"The Christmas Cookie - combine 1 ounce of peppermint schnapps, 1 ounce of Kahlua, 1 ounce of Bailey's into a shaker tin with ice. Shake thoroughly, then strain the ingredients into a chilled martini glass.

"When you've had enough of the holidays have a Grinch. It will most certainly make you feel better. The Grinch - Combine 2 ounces of Midori, 1/2 an ounce of lemon juice and 1 teaspoon of simple syrup into a shaker with ice. Shaker well and strain into a chilled martini glass. Garnish with a maraschino cherry.

"The Santa Shot - Pour grenadine to about 1/3 of your shot glass. Carefully layer the crème de menthe, then the peppermint schnapps in equal parts.

"The Chocolate Raspberry Martini - Chill your ingredients beforehand. Pour 1 1/2 ounces of raspberry vodka, and 1 ounce of white crème de cacao into a chilled martini glass.

"The Red Hot Santa Tini - Mix some cocoa powder together with a pinch of cayenne pepper and rim a chilled martini glass with it. Shake 2 ounces of chili-infused vodka with 2 ounces of Godiva chocolate liqueur and pour the mixture into the martini glass. Top it off with whip cream and garnish by floating a small Thai chili pepper on top of the cream.

"Snowball - Pour 3 ounces of 1921 Tequila Cream Liqueur, 3 drops of vanilla, 1 ounce of evaporated skim milk, and 1/2 an ounce of Kahlua into a blender with ice. Blend for about ten seconds. Pour into a wine glass or a brandy snifter. Sprinkle cinnamon powder on top and stick the cinnamon stick down the glass for garnish.

"The Red Rudolph - Heat 6 ounces of cranberry juice until it's hot. Pour 1/2 an ounce of orange curacao, 3/4 of an ounce of cinnamon schnapps, and 1/2 an ounce of vodka into an Irish coffee mug and then slowly add the hot juice. The temperature of the drink will be warm. Top it with whipped cream and garnish with sugar sprinkles on top.

"The Candy Cane - Mix 3/4 of an ounce of SKYY Berry vodka, 3/4 of an ounce of peppermint schnapps, 3/4 of an ounce of white crème de cacao, and 1/4 of an ounce of grenadine with ice into a cocktail shaker. Be sure to shake it up thoroughly. Rim a cocktail glass with crushed hard peppermint candy and pour the shaken mixture into the glass. Top it off with half 'n' half.

"This is how to make your own eggnog. Make sure to refrigerate all of the liquids and get them very cold before you make the drink. Beat 6 eggs at medium speed until they're very frothy. Gradually add 1 cup of sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of vanilla extract, and 1/4 of a teaspoon of ground nutmeg as you continue beating. Now turn the mixer off and stir in 2 cups of whipping cream, 2 cups milk, 3/4 of a cup of brandy and 1/3 of a cup of dark rum. Chill it until you're ready to serve. Garnish each serving with nutmeg sprinkled on top and a cinnamon stick.

"Hot Buttered Rum - Put a cinnamon stick, lemon peel and 2 ounces of dark rum into a mug. Fill it with boiling water (leave a spoon in the mug so the glass won't break from the heat). Float 1 pat of butter on top, then stir it in. Or serve it with the butter floating and let your guests stir it in with their cinnamon sticks.

"Mulled wine - combine one bottle of red wine, 1 cup of cognac, 3/4 of a cup of sugar, 2 cinnamon sticks, 3 whole cloves, 1 teaspoon of grated nutmeg, 1 vanilla bean, 1 star anise, 1 sliced orange, and 1 sliced lemon into a sauce pan and simmer for twenty-five minutes. Let it sit overnight if possible (in the refrigerator is fine). Strain out the fruits and other non-drinkable ingredients and serve it warm in glass mugs. Enjoy and happy holidays!"

### Chapter 12: Le Vin de Merde

_What the hell is going on?_ Kim was in danger. That much was clear to Alan. And Joan and even Dante were there with her, but they were in trouble too. And those two were strong. Gilebert had also claimed he was a demon. Perhaps, that would explain the icky feeling Alan had had when he'd first laid his eyes upon Gilebert at the café. A man who could subdue Dante though - who was an angel - _had_ to be a real demon. His friends were in trouble...but what should he do? What could he do?

Alan would go of course but...would that even do any good? He'd probably be beaten up and held hostage like the others. Should he call the cops? If Gilebert really was a demon...he'd just be putting more innocent people in danger. And when Gilebert had said that he was a demon - Alan believed him.

_I'm a demon._ Gilebert's words rang through Alan's mind and he sunk to his knees. Joan and Dante had tried to save Kim on their own, but had failed, and could possibly be hurt. Kim could be hurt too. Alan was still having a hard time believing that Dante had been defeated so easily. _There's just no way Gilebert defeated him. Dante's an angel. What kind of a demon is he? A powerful one, that's what. Shit._

Alan considered his options. Well, not going \- was _not_ an option. Most probably would have stayed away, but Alan was going to try to help his friends. No matter what. Joan, Kim, and Dante...they were his family now. The Dullahan Family. Dullahan...the wheels in Alan's mind began to turn.

Alan knew that if he went he'd be no match for Gilebert. He'd probably get the shit beaten out of him. Maybe even piss in his pants. But...he didn't care. Even if he served a purpose by acting as a distraction to give Dante a chance to fight back then his objective would be fulfilled.

But...was there anything Alan could do to actually _help?_ Alan turned to look down the hall that led to the basement door. Alan stood up and slowly began to make his way towards the basement. He reached the door, opened it, and made his way down the stairs. He flipped on a light and the makeshift gym and training room was revealed. His gaze focused upon the red door.

Alan gulped. Just looking at the door he felt like someone - something - was watching him. He spotted an oil lamp, lit it, and picked it up. Alan made his way towards the door and opened it. He held up the oil lamp and illuminated the inside of the chamber. The air inside of the chamber was still moist and humid. It also still smelled of decay and mold.

Alan looked at the circle on the floor that had a six-pointed star inside of it as well as various runes and symbols. He knew what it was now. After Dante had dragged him out of the chamber, Alan had returned hours later to study the books that were on the shelves. Yea, he knew that had been pretty stupid but he'd been curious. The books were all about demons. The most interesting book that Alan had come across was titled: ' _The Lesser Key of Solomon_ '. The book was divided into five parts: _The Ars Goetia_ , _The Ars Theurgia-Goetia_ , _The Ars Paulina_ , _The Ars Almadel_ and _The Ars Notoria_. The book was a grimoire focused on demonology. It followed the story of King Solomon as he captured seventy-two demons using his magic ring, and forced them to explain themselves. The other books on the shelves had been about magic and sorcery.

The circle on the floor was apparently a magical circle - a demon-summoning circle - drawn in blood, which meant the demon being summoned had some kind of a blood pact with the summoner. This also meant that Alan might be able to summon and control the demon by using his own blood. If he managed to do that he could command the demon to help him save his friends.

Alan could have tried to summon any number of demons now that he had a list of names, but he knew just whom he wanted to try and summon. The mysterious woman who'd haunted his dreams since forever - the headless horsewoman. The name of which he'd learned in his nightmares: Arienh Dullahan. Apparently, she was his ancestor. And that's all the information he needed to summon her really, just the demoness' name.

Alan made his way over to the altar and set down the oil lamp. It cast flickering shadows upon the wall. He picked up the athame and approached the circle. He slashed the palm of his hand with the athame and a streak of bright red blood formed on his palm.

He crouched in front of the circle and slammed his hand down upon the demon summoning circle. "I summon thee...Arienh Dullahan! The headless horsewoman!"

The circle began to glow. Red light flooded the lines of blood that made up the circle, the six-pointed star, and the magical runes, glyphs, and symbols. The light increased in strength blinding Alan and an invisible force pushed him away from the circle.

At that moment, rising up out of the floor was the headless body of a woman. Her body was dressed in a dark green, velvet gown. The gown was low-cut revealing the gentle curve of her breasts and the freckles there. Freckles that Alan recognized. _It's really her._ The headless horsewoman who haunted his dreams every night.

The light faded and the headless horsewoman walked out of the circle. Alan scrambled backwards across the dirt floor. He was terrified, his entire body was trembling, and his eyes were wide like saucers.

The headless horsewoman strode forward a few steps before she knelt before Alan. "You who have summoned me. How may I serve thee, Master?" As she spoke green mist billowed out of her severed neck. Alan blinked and wondered how she was able to speak without a head! "Y-You're A-Arienh?"

"Yes." Wow. Her voice was melodic. Almost 'pretty'. Definitely not the way he'd imagined it.

Alan suddenly laughed. He couldn't believe it. He'd done it! He actually managed to summon the dullahan. He put his face in his hand as he tried to get himself under control. He smiled and staggered to his feet. "Arienh, I need your help. My friends...Kim, Joan and Dante are in grave danger and I must help them. A demon has them held captive at this address-" Alan showed the dullahan the piece of paper he'd scribbled the address upon. "Er, can you see it? I can read it to you-"

"I can read it." Her voice was silky, whimsical.

"Oh, well, good, I - we - need to go there immediately. I...we need to save them." Alan fumbled with his words, not knowing the best way to ask Arienh to help him save his friends.

"Alright, Master Alan." Arienh agreed as she began to head for the stairs.

Alan gawked after her. Wait, it was that easy? "Hey, wait up!" Alan took off after Arienh as she ascended the steps. Arienh silently made her way through the pub and exited. She stood out on the sidewalk and waited for Alan patiently. Then she began to chant and wave her hand through the air. A portal of swirling red energy formed on the asphalt and a gigantic black horse with glowing, red eyes leapt out of the hole.

Alan skidded to a halt next to Arienh, and gawked at the demonic looking horse...and then at Arienh. There was no way they would make it to the address without attracting unwanted attention. There was practically a cop car for every block in New York City. Alan frowned at the dilemma.

Arienh was grabbing the reins of the horse and about to mount when Alan called out to her. "Arienh. Wait. Er...isn't there a way you can disguise yourself? You kind of stand out."

Arienh took her foot out of the stirrup and paused. "Disguise?"

Alan ran a hand back through his hair. "You know, to like, uh, blend in with...normal people. Argh...I dunno...this horse is going to get the cops chasing us in no time. Too bad you couldn't have summoned a motorcycle or something, huh?" Alan laughed at his own joke.

"Motorcycle?" Arienh repeated and waved her hand at her demonic horse. It became engulfed in red light and then transformed almost instantly from a black horse into a shiny, black Harley Davidson.

Alan's jaw dropped as he looked at the Harley Davidson that had hot pink designs on it. _Hot pink? Figures._ Alan's mouth twitched. Arienh _was_ a woman after all - even if she was headless. "It's too bad we don't have more time...I could make you a black and pink biker girl outfit." Alan joked with a lopsided smile on his face.

"Like this?" Arienh asked as she ran her hands over her voluptuous body and transformed her clothes in seconds. The velvet gown transformed into a black leather bodysuit with hot pink racing stripes running up the sides.

Alan's blue eyes sparkled with awe. "Neat. I don't suppose you could make yourself a matching biker helmet? That way no one will know you're headless."

Arienh opened the palm of her hand and a full biker helmet appeared which she stuck onto her neck.

Alan grinned, now Arienh looked like a normal biker girl. This could work. "Perfect. Well done, Arienh."

"Thank you, Master Alan," Arienh said as she mounted the Harley Davidson. "Get on behind me."

Alan gulped, got on behind Arienh, and hesitated before wrapping his arms around her waist. He expected her body to be as cold as ice, but was surprised to discover that her body was warm. "You're warm." Alan breathed in surprise.

"Hold on." Arienh said before she willed the Harley's engine to start and then tore off down the road at top speed.

"Ack." Alan wrapped his arms more tightly around Arienh's waist. This woman was his great great (how many greats, he didn't really know) grandmother. He wasn't afraid of her.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at the luxury apartment building. Instead of dismounting the bike Arienh turned the Harley to face the front door of the building and headed straight for it.

"A-Arienh, what are you doing?" Alan asked as Arienh sped right towards the front door, which was made of glass.

"Entering the building." Arienh replied dryly and was Alan imagining it or was there a hint of amusement in her sultry voice.

"Ah! I'm going to die!" Alan cried as he shut his eyes and buried his head in Arienh's back.

_Crash._ The front tire of the Harley hit the front door and shattered it instantly. Arienh rode through the apartment building lobby and right into an open elevator. The elevator doors closed behind them.

"Press the button for the top floor, Master." Arienh directed.

"R-Right." Alan reached out with a trembling finger and pressed the button for the top floor. Elevator music began to play and Alan couldn't help but think about how surreal this whole situation was. _I can't believe this is really happening._

The elevator door opened with a _ding_ and they rode down the hall. Arienh stopped the bike outside of the apartment door they wanted, and revved the Harley Davidson's engine loudly. _Vroom! Vroom!_

"Hey, wait, maybe we should knock?" Alan suggested over the roar of the engine.

"We've already announced our presence." Arienh drawled, before they rode towards the front door and crashed through it. The door splintered to pieces, chunks of wood flying through the air. The Harley soared through the front door dramatically and into the center of the living room, leaving skid marks on the carpet.

A handsome demon was reclining on one of the couches, a glass of red wine in his hand, and a look of astonishment now on his face. On the table Alan's eyes were drawn to the bottle of wine that had a fly on its label and which read: 'Le vin de merde'. Alan blinked as he translated that in his mind. _Shit wine?_ _O-kay._

The glass of wine fell from Gilebert's limp fingers. "What the hell?"

Alan peered over Arienh's shoulder and recognized the demon as being Gilebert, but he had horns and a long, red-skinned tail swishing behind him now. _Oh my God, Gilebert is a demon. But I'll freak out about that later._ "Gilebert! Where's Kim, you bastard?" Alan demanded as his eyes rapidly searched the room for any sign of her.

That's when Alan spotted four figures suspended on the wall. Figures that he recognized with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Kim, Joan, Dante and a golden retriever that must have been Joan's dog were hanging on the wall. Their bodies were draped over wooden pegs that had been hammered into the walls. Alan was relieved to see that the pegs weren't piercing through anyone's body. Kim was unconscious, and dressed in only a lacy, red bra and matching panties. Her body was covered in horrible bruises that made bile rise up in Alan's throat.

Joan was hanging next to her, and was dressed in only a plain, white bra and matching panties. A bruise was forming on the left side of her face.

Next to Joan was Dante. He was dressed in only his black boxers and there was a gaping wound on his stomach. Blood was pouring down his abs and he appeared to be unconscious. Dante was deathly pale. Alan couldn't help but note the many scars that were on Dante's torso. _Holy shit._

_My friends._ Alan thought as he made an effort to swallow the bile in his mouth. "Kim!" Alan leapt off the back of the bike and ran towards Kim and the others. He was so worried about his friends that he momentarily forgot all about Gilebert's presence. "Joan! Dante!"

Gilebert's eyes widened at Alan's unexpected appearance. "Alan Dullahan...you actually came."

Alan continued to ignore Gilebert and ran over to Kim first. He reached out and cupped Kim's cheeks with his two hands. "Kim! Wake up! Kim!" Alan gently patted her cheeks.

"Mmm." Kim groaned as she stirred awake and blinked down at Alan. "A-Alan?"

"I'm going to get you out of here." Alan proclaimed as he began to lift Kim carefully off the wall.

Kim's eyes widened as she became more awake, "Alan! You're really here...what the hell are you doing here? You have to get out of here! Gilebert...he's a real demon! He'll kill you."

Alan gently removed Kim from the wall, and she sunk down to her knees, trembling in fear. Alan smiled down at Kim confidently, and took his jacket off to set it around her shoulders. "I'm not afraid of him."

"Well, you should be!" Came Gilebert's angry voice from behind him.

"Alan! Look out!" Kim cried, eyes wide in horror as she watched Gilebert lunge at Alan with his medieval sword in hand - about to take Alan's head from his shoulders.

Alan didn't even bother to turn his head. He just kept smiling at Kim. "It's okay Kim because I didn't come alone. I brought...a friend." _Clash._

Kim's eyes widened as she watched a figure appear directly in front of Alan with a gigantic black scythe raised in her hands. The scythe clashed against Gilebert's sword - stopping his attack from harming Alan.

Kim looked at the mysterious woman in a mixture of shock and awe. She was dressed in a black and pink leather bodysuit and biker helmet. She looked normal enough if it weren't for that gigantic scythe in her hands! Was she the Grim Reaper? Death herself? Kim wondered frantically.

A thrill of fear traveled down Kim's spine.

Dante's finger twitched.

Alan turned his attention towards Joan and Dante next. "Joan!" Alan went over to her and patted her cheek. "Wake up!"

Joan's green eyes opened and she stared at Alan for a moment before her eyes widened in recognition. "Alan? No way!"

Alan smiled ruefully at Joan's exclamation, and nodded. "Yep." He helped Joan off the wall, and she somehow managed to remain standing.

"You actually came. You-" Joan cut herself off as she noticed that Gilebert was fighting against a woman wielding a gigantic scythe. "Who the hell is that?"

"A friend." Alan said as he went to wake up Dante next. Alan slapped his friend's cheek a little more roughly than he had the girls. "Dante! Wake up, bud!"

But Dante still wouldn't stir. _Shit._ Behind them Gilebert was still fighting fiercely against Arienh. "Who the hell are you, she-demon?" Gilebert demanded. "And why are you helping a lowly human?"

"He is my Master. And you are his enemy." Arienh replied in her voice that was full of haunting shadows. "I will take your head."

"Bitch! Not if I take yours first!" Gilebert roared as he swung his sword at Arienh's neck.

_Slash._ Gilebert's sword knocked into Arienh's helmet and knocked it off her neck. Kim screamed and gripped her hair in abject terror. Gilebert had just decapitated that poor woman!

Dante's eyes snapped open. He could feel his power returning. There was a very frightened human in this room. Already he could feel demonic power coursing through his veins like fire. His wound was already beginning to close.

"Dante!" Alan exclaimed in relief.

Dante blinked at Alan. "Alan?" He turned to see the half-naked Joan. "Joan." The bartender pulled himself down from the wall. Joan had obviously been hung up on the wall next to him...like a bloody decoration.

Gilebert had done this. The Incubus had touched Joan, undressed her, and put her on the wall. Dante growled low in his throat at the thought. A series of strange emotions were passing through Dante: anger, hate, possessiveness, worry, fear. He didn't like that Gilebert had dared to touch what was his. _Mine._ He thought to himself. _No, Joan is not mine._ Dante had to remind himself with a shake of his head. _We're enemies._ But even so, Dante's blood was boiling with anger at the thought of Gilebert having touched Joan. _He will pay._ He was in front of Joan in the blink of an eye, cupping her cheeks and staring into Joan's eyes concernedly. "Joan...did that bastard touch you?"

Joan stared at Dante in surprise and tried to shake her head. Joan knew what Dante was really asking. She'd never seen him look so furious before. He was obviously asking if Gilebert had raped her. "No...he just...punched me and took my clothes off. That's all."

Dante let his hands fall away from her, but he was still enraged. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He really felt like killing someone. Gilebert would pay! He spotted his jacket, went to fetch it, and quickly brought it over to Joan. He handed it to her and she put it on without a fuss, surprisingly enough.

Only then did Dante turn his attention to the battle that was going on behind him. He blinked. A headless biker chick was fighting against Gilebert and wielding a gigantic black scythe. The blade of that weapon was almost four feet long, but the size of the weapon seemed to fluctuate. _Bloody hell!_

Kim was absolutely terrified and her body had begun to shake violently. "That biker chick should be dead, but she's _still_ moving..."

Alan was suddenly kneeling by her side and trying to calm the supermodel. "Shhh, Kim, it's alright...everything will be okay."

"No...you don't understand, Alan." Kim shook her head. "That woman...she just had her head cut off!"

"She had no head to begin with." Alan wondered how he was able to say something so calmly. He also wondered why he wasn't as freaked out as Kim seemed to be by everything that was happening. Come on, there was a demon and a headless horsewoman fighting to the death in the living room. But Alan's dreams and nightmares were filled with demons and headless women every night, so perhaps that is why he'd so easily accepted what was going on. "Kim, that is Arienh Dullahan, my ancestor, and a headless horsewoman. I summoned her here to help save you. She is the woman I see in my nightmares every night...the woman on the sign at _Dullahan's_." Alan explained.

"She's...?" Kim thought back to the woman on the sign...the headless horsewoman. Kim even had a t-shirt with the woman on it that Alan had given her. "The headless horsewoman? She's _real?_ " Not able to handle more, Kim fainted.

"Aw crap." Alan said as he held Kim's limp body in his arms.

Meanwhile, Joan and Dante had listened in on Alan's revelation, and weren't sure what they should do. Joan couldn't transform without using her enchanted cross. And Dante was still healing...

"I should help." Dante said taking a step forward. He still wanted to punish Gilebert for touching Joan.

"Wait." Joan said in a low voice as she put her hand on Dante's arm to stop him. "If you fight now...you'll be revealing your true identity to Alan. That could put Alan in danger, Dante."

Dante paused, unsure of what he should do. Joan had a point.

"Do not interfere." The female dullahan spoke up as she swung her scythe at Gilebert's sword. The blades clashed and then the scythe was slicing through Gilebert's sword!

Gilebert leapt backwards, the shock evident on his face. "Impossible! That blade was forged in Hell!"

"So was mine." Arienh countered and swung her scythe at Gilebert's head next.

"No, please, wait!" Gilebert put his hands up in a surrendering gesture and offered the dullahan a charming smile. After all, no woman could resist his charms. Right? But his effort was to no avail.

"Arienh's scythe sliced through Gilebert's left wrist, after that his neck, and finally his right wrist. Blood splattered through the air and Gilebert's lifeless body toppled over onto the floor. Joan covered her mouth with her hand...such brutality. Kim was lucky she'd fainted.

Arienh willed her scythe to disappear and it disintegrated into shadows. After that she walked over to pick up Gilebert's body and carried him over to the wall. She held Gilebert against the wall and used her power to cause several of the wooden pegs to slide out of the wall and hover in front of the corpse. With a flick of her other hand the pegs were sent flying into Gilebert's body, effectively pinning him to the wall. Arienh let go and stood back to gaze upon her gruesome handiwork. "An eye for an eye." She intoned in a grim, deadly tone.

"Who's the decoration now? Jerk!" Joan couldn't help but say as she fist pumped.

Dante raised an eyebrow at the waitress.

"What?" Joan snapped in a defensive tone as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Dante's lip twitched in amusement. _Feisty._

Somehow Gilebert had been defeated, and Dante and Joan hadn't needed to fight. Joan quickly made her way to Michael's side now that the fight was finally over. She carefully lifted him off the wall and set him down on the floor gently. Her guardian angel was still unconscious.

Dante walked over to Gilebert's body and found Joan's cross in the pocket of the man's red leather pants. He tossed it to her and she caught it one-handed. "Thanks." There was a note of surprise in Joan's voice. If Dante had wanted to kill her, now would have been the perfect opportunity. She had been practically defenseless without her cross. Or maybe he just wanted to kill her in a fair fight. Joan's lips pursed at the thought.

Alan scooped the unconscious Kim into his arms. "Hey guys, I'm going to take Kim back to her apartment. Some familiarity will do her good when she wakes up. Dante...I leave Joan in your care."

"Understood, Boss." Dante nodded, with a small smirk on his face. The demon reached out to ruffle Alan's hair, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. "You protected the woman you love, Alan. Well done." _I couldn't even do as much...I let Jeanne d'Arc get burned at the stake because I was attached to some goddamned tree. Not that I love Joan Simone. But I still failed to protect what is mine. Mine? Joan is not mine._ Dante shook his head from his strange and conflicting thoughts.

Alan flushed with pride. He nodded to Dante and walked towards the front door. "Come on, Arienh. We're outta here."

Arienh made her way over to her fallen helmet, picked it up and stuck it back on her neck. The dullahan then went over to pick up Gilebert's head, which she placed inside of a velvet sack. "Coming, Master." Her voice was singsong. The evil she-demon sounded almost...happy. Arienh mounted the Harley and Alan got on behind her with Kim cradled protectively against his chest. "I exist in this plane only until sunrise, Master."

"Then let's get the hell out of here." Alan said. "Take care of Joan, Dante." He said again. There had been some odd tension between Joan and Dante, but ultimately Alan trusted the bartender.

"Don't worry, Boss. I will." Dante assured again and Alan's expression turned relieved.

Joan was fuming. Dante and Alan were talking about her as if she weren't there. "I don't need him to 'take care' of me! Hmph!"

Joan and Dante watched as the headless horsewoman sped out of the apartment and into the hallway. The Harley had left flaming scorch marks on the rug in its wake. Joan shook her head with a bemused expression on her face before returning to Michael's side. The poor dog was bleeding all over the floor. She was about to go try to find some bandages or something when Dante handed her a towel. She looked up at him in surprise. "Thanks." Joan wrapped the towel tightly around Michael's torso and tied the towel tight. She then reached out to shake him awake. "Michael, wake up."

Michael stirred awake. "Joan?" The Archangel looked around the living room and his eyes widened when he spotted Gilebert's now headless body pinned to the wall. "Dante? Did you do this? Where is Kim?"

"Alan came...with an ally and saved us." Joan explained vaguely. Summoning demons from Hell was a sin, and if Michael found out that Alan had summoned a dullahan he might have to punish Alan for it.

Michael raised a dog brow at Joan. "An ally? Who?"

"We'll talk about it later. Right now...I have more important matters to attend to." Joan looked over at Dante.

While Michael and Joan were speaking to each other Dante had been getting re-dressed. He put on his black pants, white shirt, vest, bowtie, and shoes. Joan was still wearing his jacket.

"Dante." Joan spoke up to get Dante's attention as he was straightening his bowtie.

Dante turned to face her with an emotionally shuttered expression on his face.

"It's time. We need to...talk. But not here...Central Park." Joan declared and concentrated on not letting her voice waver.

Dante's expression turned grim. He'd been hoping that Joan would no longer see their confrontation as necessary. But he supposed things couldn't always go his way. "Indeed we do. Alright. I'll meet you in Central Park." Dante agreed before he headed for the bedroom, stalked through it, and made his way out onto the balcony. From there he summoned his wings before taking flight and heading towards Central Park.

***

Michael and Joan made their way to the balcony next. As soon as they were outside Michael transformed into his larger form, and his white, feathery wings emerged from his back. "Are you finally going to kill him, Joan? Five hundred and eighty-four years ago, God ordered you to kill Dantalion...and you refused. I was forced to put him into an enchanted sleep. Obviously, someone broke my spell and unsealed him. And that someone had to have been a demon. You were already punished for your sins in your past life. Now, you have a second chance, Joan. Kill Dante and you will be redeemed in the eyes of God. You could earn your proper place in Heaven. When you die you can go straight to Heaven instead of being reborn. We could be together then, Joan."

"I..." Joan started, as Michael's words began to sink in. So, it was over. It was all over. The whole 'we're friends' act that she and Dante had been performing. A sense of loss almost overwhelmed her and the ground felt like it was crumbling beneath her feet. Dante now knew who Joan really was - the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. Dante now knew that Joan was his hated enemy, and he _would_ betray her again. He _would_ try and kill her.

That's why Joan had to kill Dante _first_.

She couldn't make the same mistake twice. She couldn't fall in love with him, only for him to betray her. Since she'd been unable to kill him the last time she'd been punished by God, abandoned by him, forsaken, and ended up getting burned at the stake. She'd used her holy sword to seal Dante to that fig tree. That sword had been the very sword she'd had the visions about. She'd had dreams that it was buried behind the altar at the church of St. Catherine of Fierbois. The sword had been covered in rust but that rust had simply been wiped away to reveal a beautiful double-edged sword. The sword had had five crosses on it.

But...after she'd used that sword to seal Dante to that tree, God had refused to give her a new sword and she'd had to use normal swords after that. One of those swords she'd gotten from Sir Robert and another sword she's stolen from a Burgundian soldier. But neither of those swords had any supernatural power and that's probably why things went sour for her in the end.

She'd been punished for loving a demon. And Joan's mind and heart and soul were in turmoil because of it. She didn't _want_ to kill Dante, but now that he knew her identity? Well, that changed everything. They were suddenly mortal enemies. That meant that they would fight each other sooner or later so...why not get it over with? Their inevitable battle, their destined battle to the death.

I fell in love with the Demon Duke Dantalion five hundred and eighty-four years ago...and I was unable to kill him...even after his betrayal. I can't let that happen again. I have to kill him now before I fall in love with him again. Before I fall into temptation. Dante is my temptation. My sin. I must resist him this time and kill him, kill my temptation and avoid falling into sin.

I must kill him.

"I will kill him." Joan finished determinedly.

***

Dante flew towards Central Park and it soon came into view. He could see the great lawn and dark treetops. He swooped down into the deserted park. This was where Joan wanted to 'talk'. He knew there would probably be no 'talking' involved in what was to come. They were going to fight and probably to the death, but...Dante found himself asking: _why?_ Why did they have to fight each other and to the death?

Sure, Dante now knew that Joan Simone was the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. And sure he now knew that she was the female who'd betrayed him. Jeanne had taken advantage of his lowered guard and attacked him those centuries ago in that field of flowers. She'd stabbed him and pinned him to that fig tree with her holy sword, effectively sealing him to it. She'd defeated him. But she hadn't finished him off. She hadn't killed him. _And_ she'd been crying.

Those tears. Those tear-filled green eyes had haunted him for centuries.

He would never forget those eyes.

He _should_ be filled with hate for Jeanne. He _should_ want to kill her. He _should_ hate her for her betrayal.

But...Dante didn't feel _hate_ towards Joan - only _confusion. Why?_

Why had Jeanne betrayed him?

Why had she been crying? These questions had plagued him for centuries while he'd been trapped in a world of nightmares, unable to wake up, and finally he would be able to get some answers because Joan was the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. He almost felt giddy with the thought.

Finally, he would know the truth.

So instead of his blood boiling with anger, the blood in his veins was thrumming with anticipation. But he couldn't let Joan kill him before he'd gotten to ask his questions. Joan was no pushover either, and so Dante summoned his demonic power and transformed. Horns sprouted out of his head, his incisors lengthened, his eyes glowed red, a red aura flared around him, and thanks to Kim and her abject terror he had enough power to finally summon his faithful sword. Dante's double-edged, black iron, medieval sword materialized in his outstretched hand. The hilt of the sword was a dragon's outstretched wings and the round pommel of the sword was a series of skulls. A beautiful, sinister, demonic sword. With a thought Dante also caused his battle armor to materialize onto his body.

Minutes passed before he spotted Joan and Michael overhead. The gray night sky was a dramatic backdrop behind the warrior maiden riding the winged dog. Michael flew down and landed several feet away from Dante. Joan hopped off of Michael's back, and the demon noted that she'd once again transformed. She was wearing the sexy golden armor once again, and held the golden sword in her hand. That sword was different from the one that she'd sealed him to the tree with, but it also had the design of five crosses on it.

Beautiful. Powerful. Deadly.

Dante resisted the urge to drool. His cock hardened slightly at the irresistible sight of her. But he forced himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The last thing he wanted was to be aroused while he was fighting her.

Joan's lips were a thin line as she approached Dante and took in the sight of his demonic appearance, battle armor and sword. Her expression was grim, resigned. "I see you're finally taking this seriously, Dantalion." Joan pointed her sword at the demon. "It's time we finally ended this, Dantalion. I _will_ kill you."

Dante tilted his head at Joan. He could feel the hatred pouring off of her in waves. "Why?" Dante asked as he reigned in his own emotions. It wouldn't do anyone any good to blow up in anger.

Joan blinked. _What the hell?_ "What do you mean 'why'? You know why, you untrustworthy, lying demon!" Joan snarled as she rushed forward in attack. "Ah!" She swung her sword at Dante.

He raised his sword to block her attack. "Enlighten me." He drawled, off-handedly, as if he didn't really care but deep down he was _dying_ to finally know the truth.

"We're enemies!" Joan spat, "You...betrayed me! I can't believe I fell for you and your lies five hundred and eighty-four years ago, Dantalion. But I won't make the same mistake _twice_. I will _not_ be fooled by you again!"

Dante raised an eyebrow at Joan as their swords clashed in deadly jabs, blocks and blows. " _I_ betrayed _you_? Did Gilebert's blow affect your memory, Jeanne? _You_ betrayed _me_!"

Joan gawked at Dante. "No, you betrayed me first! You said you would hold off your army and that you were going to go to Hell to speak to Lucifer about ending the war. But you lied. Your army attacked the village and killed everyone in it. Even the women and children!"

_What the fuck?_ "The village? I did not approve such an attack..." Dante scowled in thought. Had his army acted on their own? No. They would never disobey him.

"Don't lie! Your fiancée Lilith was there in charge of your army! She said that you had asked her to attack the village for you because of your creed: No women. No kids. That you even asked her to kill me!"

"What?" Dante roared, suddenly enraged. Lilith...had taken control of his army, had attacked the village, and had even attacked Joan? "Did she harm you?" He demanded fiercely as waves of anger began to roll off of him.

Joan blinked. She somehow knew that that anger wasn't directed towards her. "No...I...I killed her Dante." Her tone was regretful, even apologetic. _He's going to hate me now. I killed his love._

But Dante was oddly relieved that Joan hadn't been hurt by his fiancée. He should have been angry that Joan had killed Lilith but...Lilith was pure evil. He'd never even loved Lilith. He'd respected the powerful she-demon and had even had sex with her, but he didn't love her. The marriage had been Lucifer's idea and probably to have someone to keep tabs on Dante. Instead, he was glad that Joan had won the fight. And he said so. "I'm glad."

A muscle ticked beneath Joan's eye. "No you're not! You liar! How could you be...you...you...loved her!" Why did it hurt so much for her to say that?

Dante shook his head, "No, I didn't love her. I...respected her - yes. But Lucifer arranged our engagement. I was just going along with it. But I did not love her. I didn't know what love - real love - even was until I met you, Jeanne."

Joan sucked in a breath before she burst out: "Lies!"

Dante stared into her eyes with an emotional look on his face. "I'm glad she did not harm you. Lilith could be quite vicious, merciless..."

Joan was shaking her head. _No! No, no, no._ She couldn't believe what Dante was saying because if she did...! "I don't believe you! You didn't love me! You lied to me! You betrayed me!"

"I did not." Dante said firmly, "I told my army to await further orders and that I needed to return to Hell to speak with Lucifer. I returned to Hell and went to Lucifer's palace. I voiced my opinion about how I felt the Apocalypse was a foolish endeavor. I told him to stop the war...but he didn't listen to me. He told me that the war was about his revenge against God." The demon let out a sigh.

Joan blinked at Dante. "You really went to Hell?"

Dante nodded. "However, I urged him to reconsider. That's when he made me a deal. If I were able to beat him in a duel he would stop the war. And so I fought him Joan - a man I loved like a brother. I fought him and risked my life. For you. And...I won. But Lucifer made me repair his throne room before I was allowed to return to Earth. I had made a mess of it during our duel, you see. This took me several days, and when I returned I immediately went in search of you. I found you in that field of flowers. I was happy to see you alive and well, Joan. I was filled with love for you. I wanted to sweep you up into my arms and kiss you and never let go. But then you attacked me. You stabbed me with your holy sword and sealed me to that tree." This time Dante was unable to keep the anger and hurt from his voice.

Joan's body began to shake as she remembered how she'd stabbed Dante through his chest mercilessly.

" _You_ betrayed _me_. You said you never loved me. That you had fooled me...and I would have believed it \- if not for your _tears,_ Jeanne. So tell me what is the truth? Now that you know that I did not betray you, tell me. Was your love for me a lie? What is the truth?" Dante gazed into Joan's green eyes searchingly.

No...it can't be true. If what Dante is saying is true then...I'm the one who betrayed him! Dante must be the reason why Lucifer no longer had the strength to keep the portal to Earth open. Dante truly did stop the Apocalypse five hundred and eighty-four years ago.

If what Dante is saying is true then...I have no reason to hate him. And if I don't hate him I...will fall into temptation again. I will fall in love with him and be punished by God, forsaken by my Creator again...

Again and again and again...

Flames licking at her flesh.

Joan remembered in that instant how horrible it had felt being burned alive at the stake. The pain had been excruciating. _Dante is my temptation. I cannot fall for him again...I must kill him!_

Joan let out a broken cry and continued to attack Dante. But tears filled her eyes and began to stream down her face. Her fear was trying to drown her, consume her. If she didn't kill Dante...God would punish her and that thought was terrifying. She couldn't be burned alive again. She _had_ to kill Dante.

Joan lunged at Dante and he was knocked to the ground. She leapt on top of him, straddled his hips, and swung her sword at his neck. Instead of trying to fight back Dante just lay there and looked up at her. His right hand was still gripping his sword but it was out at his side.

Joan stopped her sword a mere inch from Dante's throat. Her hand was trembling violently. She looked down into Dante's gorgeous, molten gold eyes that were looking up at her and shinning with trust and...desire?

As Joan stared down at him her tears began to drip down onto Dante's pale cheeks. She blinked as she watched one of her tears slide down Dante's face. Tears. She was crying and she hadn't even realized it. That's when she felt that besides the fear she was filled with, some other emotion was also trying to drown and consume her: _love_.

Joan cried out as she tried to move her sword forward but to no avail. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't kill him. She loved him too much.

Dante smirked up at her knowingly, and tossed his own sword aside. "Jeanne...Joan...I forgive you. Do you forgive me?" Hope shinned in his eyes and a smile tugged at his lips.

Joan looked down at Dante in astonishment. She couldn't believe that Dante had forgiven her so easily. She didn't deserve to be forgiven. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she couldn't help but smile. _He forgives me._ "Yes...oh God, yes...!" She tossed her holy sword aside, grabbed Dante's face with her two hands, and smashed her lips against his.

Dante's eyes widened with surprise but then he shut his eyes before leaning into the kiss. _Aggressive little firecracker, isn't she?_

Joan aggressively parted his mouth open with her tongue and plunged her tongue into the hot, wet cavern of his mouth. She moaned in delight. He tasted like whiskey and spices. His kiss burned and tingled like putting an entire box of _Red Hots_ in one's mouth all at once.

Dante groaned at the sensation of Joan's tongue twirling, dancing with his own. The demon put his hands on Joan's hips, and she purred at the feeling of his large calloused hands on her. He jerked his hips up, wanting more contact, and Joan felt his hard, thick erection rubbing against her core. She gasped and kissed Dante even more fervidly. This demon man desired _her_. Wanted _her_. That knowledge filled her with pleasure and delight.

In the back of her mind, a small voice reminded Joan that Michael was watching them close by, and so she'd only be able to kiss Dante for now. She was surprised that she felt disappointed that they wouldn't be able to take things further. But she planned to enjoy this kiss to the max.

Joan tangled her hands in Dante's silky black hair as she deepened their kiss. Dante wasn't one to be outdone, however, and began to thrust his tongue in and out of Joan's mouth mirroring the motions of sex. The action pulled another needy moan from Joan's lips and she ground herself unconsciously against him.

The demon looked up at Joan and noticed that the moon's rays were causing golden highlights to appear in Joan's short bob of brown hair. He reached up and ran his hands through her hair and reveled in the softness of it. _So beautiful._ He ran his hand down her back, over her spine, and she shivered in delight.

His mere touch felt so damned good. And his taste was...intoxicating. _A demon bartender as intoxicating as a cocktail. Yum._ The waitress smiled to herself at the thought.

_Oh no, I think I'm falling in love with a demon._ Joan thought to herself through the haze of her passion.

_Bloody hell, I think I'm falling in love with a human female._ Dante thought to himself.

And they both thought this single word at exactly the same time: _Again._

***

Meanwhile, Michael was _not_ a happy camper. _No, no, no!_ Joan and Dante were kissing! And not only that, they were inappropriately grinding against each other like a couple of dogs in heat. The irony of that thought was not lost on the Archangel, who was currently trapped inside of the form of a golden retriever. History was repeating itself. Joan was falling in love with Dante again. Unless, she was already in love with the demon. She was giving into temptation and sin, and would be forsaken by God again. Punished. Maybe even by him. Michael shuddered at the sobering thought.

She'd failed to kill Dantalion. Again. She'd spared the demon's life. Again.

Michael's temple throbbed. He contemplated summoning his fiery sword and slaying Dante where he was, but knew that if he died Joan would _never_ forgive him.

And he loved Joan...he'd given up everything for her. He wanted to be her protector. He'd given up his human form and was now living in the body of a dog for heaven's sake just so he could stay by her side and protect her.

If only his predecessors hadn't rebelled against God and come to Earth during the time of Noah. A group of angels had been enamored by the daughters of man because they were beautiful and decided to come to Earth and choose wives for themselves. Their unions had spawned an unholy race of giants known as the Nephilim. Because of this God had punished the angels and they were no longer able to materialize on the Earth as freely as before. Now God monitored whenever an angel materialized on the Earth in order to deliver one of his messages.

Because of all this Michael was unable to materialize in human form upon the Earth unless he was delivering a message to a mortal and then only briefly. That's why when he requested to God that he have permission to stay by Joan's side in order to protect her, God had agreed, but on the condition that Michael give up his 'human form'. God would not risk the union between an angel and a daughter of man again apparently. God's distrust in Michael, stung, but he supposed his creator was right. Maybe God already saw into Michael's heart and had seen his desire for Joan there and sought to keep them apart.

Michael recalled the biblical passage that recounted the tale that had changed his destiny. Genesis 6:1-4 _Now it came about that when men started to grow in numbers on the surface of the ground and daughters were born to them, then the sons of the true God began to notice the daughters of men, that they were good-looking; and they went taking wives for themselves, namely, all whom they chose. After that God said: "My spirit shall not act toward man indefinitely in that he is also flesh. Accordingly his days shall amount to a hundred and twenty years._

The Nephilim proved to be on the earth in those days, and also after that, when the sons of the true God continued to have relations with the daughters of men and they bore sons to them, they were the mighty ones who were of old, the men of fame.

Michael wished he had fists so that he could punch the tree that was next to him instead of a pair of paws. If Michael didn't kill Dante, some other Archangel would be assigned to the task. Some other Archangel would be sent to _kill_ Dante and perhaps punish Joan. _Hellfire and damnation!_ Michael swore in his mind, feeling like he was being torn in two. Loyalty to his Creator and the love for a woman warring in his body, mind, heart and soul.

Michael decided that he would leave the Archangel that was sent to kill Dante alone, but if he or she tried to touch a single hair on Joan's head Michael would not allow it. Even if that meant that he had to fight in human form, disobey God's order, and become fallen.

And this was because Joan was _his_ temptation after all.

_To be continued..._ in Book 2: "Wicked Bartender Redemption" the grand finale! Now available!

Dantalion: "About Le vin de merde. This is actually an excellent wine despite its name. Tired of constant criticism aimed at the wines from the Languedoc-Roussillon region, specifically that the wines were 'shit', an independent vintner responded with the rebellious idea to create 'Le vin de merde' or 'shit wine'. The label is hard to miss with the big fly on it as if it were sitting on a pile of shit. I think it was a brilliant and funny publicity stunt, for a lowly human."

###

Final note:

Other works by the author:

Rockstar Ghost

Rockstar Ghost Resurrection

His Heavy Metal Heart

Wicked Bartender

Wicked Bartender Redemption

Incubus Chocolatier

Incubus Chocolatier Retribution

Bitch Heiress X Samurai Butler

Bitch Heiress X2 Samurai Butler

Samurai Superheroes Saga:

Cowboy Samurai X Badass Android

Geisha Assassin X Smartass Hacker

Foxy Yokai X Punkass Cyborg

Sir Genkaku Host Club

(Books 1, 2, 3, and 4)

Sanky Panky Pirate

Sanky Panky Pirate Part II

Hollywood Merman

Hollywood Merman Revelations (coming 2015)

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