Shadow Games

Title: Shadow Games
Author: Shuukitty
Summary: Dante discovers a wounded demon escaping from Mallet Island
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): It’s a surprise!
Feedback: Desired and appreciated
Characters: Dante, Trish, and introducing OC Zithantharis
Betas: “Shuukitty” is the combined efforts of Tanithkitty and Croik, co-writers.
Author’s notes: This is a continuation shortly after the first game. This fic was written as a one-on-one RolePlay, so the POV switches just about every paragraph. Please be considerate and do not borrow original characters without permission.
Thanks for reading and please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, save the OCs, and I’m not making any money off this fic.


Shadow Games
Chapter One

It was a quiet night. The moon was a slit hanging low in the sky, partially hidden by a few wispy clouds. The house was quiet, too—the family was out for the evening. A dark shadow slipped out of the kitchen, pausing to stare out the window at the moon for a long moment.

It was getting late, and chances were the family would be returning soon. The shadow, shaped like a large dog or cat, headed for the back door of the summerhouse, deciding it would be better for him to be outside until the humans fell asleep. They had been getting suspicious lately of the sounds and subtle movements that he couldn’t help sometimes. He…might not be able to stay there much longer.

He sighed quietly, body shifting so he could slip beneath the crack in the backdoor. He kept to the side of the house for a bit before venturing out into the yard. The shade beneath the large tree would be enough to hide him until it was safe to return to the house.

“Fuck.” Perched on the roof of his dark Mercedes, Dante ran a hand back through his white-blond hair. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen that just now—the shadow that had crept across the open grass, the tiny scratching noise of its claws against dry soil. He should have known it would be something like this, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. “Shouldn’t have taken this job to begin with,” he muttered to himself as he dropped lightly to the driveway. “Damn furballs are always a headache.” He checked the clips on his handguns and shifted Alastor against his back, just to make sure he’d be able to draw it in a moment’s notice. Ears alert—these kinds tended to hunt in pairs—he started across the yard.

Dante didn’t like these charity cases. It wasn’t so much that he wouldn’t get paid much—that had never really mattered. He liked saying that he’d been raised well. The worst part was explaining to the client exactly what he was going to be killing for them. Lower class folks were always a bit more willing to spill their stories to the press, or to anyone who would listen, which was an annoyance he hated dealing with. This job didn’t seem too bad yet, considering there was a family with children involved. His greatest concern was that this cozy summerhouse was a little too close to where Mallet Island had once stood; if some of those demons had survived, it might mean a lot more work for him up and down the coast.

Like our furry friend here. At least this area’s pretty open. His grip tightened around Ivory’s handle.

He circled the tree a couple of times, eyeing the ground doubtfully. Sighing, he dropped into the thick shadow of the tree, rubbing his nose. It was getting easier to move, at least, though the injuries he’d sustained in escaping the Island were still fading. The scars from before…would take longer.

His ears twitched, picking up at a soft crunching of grass. It was probably just the family, coming home. Or the neighbor’s teenaged son. He snorted at a plant blade that had wiggled too close.

An unknown scent suddenly reached him—he’d been careless. The dark beast raised his head with a growl, leaping to his feet just in time to avoid a barrage of bullets. Hissing, he backed away.

“Here, kitty kitty kitty,” Dante laughed, though he was careful not to let his gaze falter for a moment. He knew better than to lower his guard around this particular breed. He lifted his second weapon and aimed at the demon’s face, circling gradually to avoid any attack it might launch. He smells a little different than the ones on the island.

His eyes narrowed at the taunt, though something about the man…. It’s the Hunter, he realized, quickly dodging another shot. The one who….

This was getting dangerous, and he was in no condition for an all out battle. Crouching low, he spilled his power along the ground, sending up shadowy spikes and watching as the man easily avoided the attack. Wasting no time, he leapt into the air, forming his body into a giant blade as he flew at the Hunter.

Goddamnit, I hate it when they do that, I really really— Dante cursed aloud and rolled out of the way, guns blazing again. “Hold the fuck still,” he muttered, backing up until he stopped roughly against the bark of a tree. He leapt clear just as another attack of shadow-blades tore into the thick wood. “Come on, open up already.” He fell back again, firing all the while.

He wasn’t fast enough—too many bullets were catching him. Damnit, I can’t— He dropped back to the ground, closing his eyes as a few more projectiles pierced his shadowed body. His claws flexed in the dirt. There’s nothing for it. This…is my only chance. Keeping low, he finally spoke. “Hunter…wait.” He flinched as another bullet tore along his neck. “Wait.”

Dante paused at the sound of a voice, but he didn’t blink and didn’t lower his weapons. “Hm. Didn’t know you could talk,” he muttered, taking a step closer. Not too close. “It’s a little late to beg for your life, but you’re my last job tonight. I guess I can indulge you.”

Begging…. He shifted, passing a paw over the wound in his neck. Is that what I’ve come to? “I don’t want to fight you,” he murmured, flinching as he shifted his weight. Damn it…. “Don’t you think if I meant to kill those humans I would have by now? I’m not here for that.”

“Do you think I care? You’re demon blood.” He fired again, just grazing the creature’s curled tail. He smirked. “And you’re not doing a very good job, y’know. You could at least whimper a little.” Damn, is he really trying to reason with me? What’s up with this one? “But all right, I’m biting. What are you here for?”

He lowered his head. “Recovering,” he answered, shuffling back a bit, eyes on the man’s gun. “And…trying to avoid what’s left of Mundus’s followers.” He has to understand, even if I have to give in like this. If this doesn’t work, he’ll probably just kill me. It might be better that way. Better than being taken by them.

“Trying to….” Dante’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean?” he demanded, growing abruptly serious. “You came from Mallet, didn’t you? And you’re saying you’re not one of Mundus’s?” He snorted. “Enough. You’ve got five seconds to change my mind before I blow you open, Fido.” He cocked back his gun, waiting.

Please let this work. “I was with him,” he replied softly, flinching at the sound of the gun. “In the beginning. But he used us to create his army. He….” He closed his eyes a moment, shuddering at the memories. “The small Shadows, the Phantoms, the Plasmas—they were copies of real demons.” He shifted, knowing what he had to say, but…. “Like the woman. He used me to make others, so I left. And you know he doesn’t allow failures and deserters to live.”

“Shut up!” Dante’s hands tightened reflexively, and he would have fired again, if he hadn’t recognized what the beast was saying. He struggled to keep his voice under control. “Don’t talk about her that way,” he warned darkly. Damnit. But…now what? He lowered his gun at last…just because his arm was starting to ache. “Well. You know I can’t just let you go. I don’t even know if you’re telling me the truth.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ll…prove it,” he whispered, shivering. “I’ll prove I’m not like those you fought.” Taking a deep breath, he let the magic and power surrounding him fade away. It…was a dangerous move, as it left him open to the Hunter’s attack. But if anything could convince the demon killer, it would be the differences between his true form and the spherical center of the copied shadows. When he looked up, he was met with the sight of his own pale, human shaped body. His back and arms were still covered in scars from the experiments of Mundus’s copier.

Dante’s breath caught a moment, and his eyes narrowed as he beheld the creature’s new form. He hadn’t expected that at all; he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He looked about Dante’s own age, pale and slender and…apparently only scantily clothed. Though he wasn’t entirely convinced, at least it was obvious now that this wasn’t like the other Shadow’s he’d fought. “What’s your name?” he asked quietly. “If you’re really not one of Mundus’s, you should at least have your own name.”

“Zithantharis,” he replied. He was still breathing unevenly as he pushed back onto his knees, brushing limp, dark bangs from his red eyes. He touched his neck, feeling a small trail of blood where the bullet had gotten through his magical protection. But…he’s not shooting. Maybe this is working. I could do worse, I suppose. His tail twitched nervously as he watched the man. “Are you going to kill me?” he asked suddenly, just…needing to know.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Dante slid Ebony and Ivory back into their holsters. “You’re right—you could have killed those people without a problem, but you didn’t. That’s worth something.” He frowned, and glanced about the yard as if suddenly paranoid of being seen. “Damnit. Well….” He scratched the back of his head. “I can’t just let you wander off, you know?”

He nodded faintly. “There aren’t many places I can go anyway,” he added, rubbing at a pointed, fur-covered ear. “Mundus’s followers are frightened to go after you, so they’re turning on those of us they can reach. Most of them…didn’t make it off the island.” He rolled his shoulders and a choked whimper passed his lips. I can’t do anything like this. If even a lesser demon found me…. But all he could do was wait for the Hunter to decide what was to be done with him.

Dante snorted. “Well, they should be frightened,” he returned easily. Now what the hell do I do with him? I can’t just let him go—if what he says is true, he won’t last long like this anyway, but if something happens and I could have stopped it….

“Fuck. Guess there’s only one thing, then.” He rolled his eyes and took a step back; he didn’t trust the creature enough to turn his back on him. “You’re coming with me. If you can stay quiet for a while, then maybe Trish and I will decide it’s all right to let you off easy.” His eyes narrowed. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll kill you here. Understand?”

He ducked his head. “I…understand.” Better than having them find me. He pushed himself to his feet, cringing as his knees trembled—he wasn’t used to walking like this. After a few halting steps he got the hang of it, and he made it to the other’s side. Trish is that girl, though. The copy. He didn’t like the idea of being around the woman, not after everything. But the Hunter was his only chance now, and he would just have to put up with it.

Dante took a long look at the other, and though he really hated to do it, he slipped out of his coat and tossed it to him. “Keep that on,” he instructed around a half-formed smirk. “I’m not taking you anywhere looking like you are now.” Geez, I can’t believe I’m doing this. But…it’s not like he’s the only demon here. Shaking those thoughts aside he waited for the other to join him before starting back for the car. “You just behave yourself, all right?”

I can’t do much else, like this. He made a face at the coat, sniffing at it suspiciously before draping it over his shoulders. Feels strange. Despite the taller man’s quick pace, the Shadow managed to keep up relatively well. At the other’s instruction, he slid into the passenger seat. He passed a hand over the leather dashboard with mild interest—he’d never been in a car before.

Dante noted his expression curiously. Damn, this is weird. Vowing to keep the outcome of this particular job secret from his clients, he started the car and pulled away from the summerhouse. Gonna be a long night.

The ride back into the city was long, and Dante didn’t say a word; he was too busy watching his unusual guest like a hawk. Though he knew better than to think he’d transform in the middle of a moving car, especially in his condition, that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild. The creature’s words had him concerned as well. All that talk about copies….

At last they were entering the familiar city lights; ironically enough, the streaking neon and raging car horns helped him to relax a little. But his eye was caught suddenly by a flash of unusual crimson, and it took him a moment to realize it was only the wide eyes of his company. “What are you looking at?” he asked gruffly.

“That woman.” He pointed back at the street corner and the scantily clad prostitute standing on it. “She’s a demon.” His head swung around as something new caught his eye. I haven’t been in such a big city for quite some time. He jumped as a nearby ambulance suddenly turned on its siren, watching as it sped away. “You live here?”

Dante, who had been momentarily distracted by the woman in question, turned his attention back. “Hm? Oh, yeah.” He shifted a little in his seat. “We’re almost there.”

At last they were pulling into the back lot of Devil Never Cry. Dante parked in his usual space, and slipped out of the car with a hand sliding instinctually over his gun. Don’t let that innocent act fool you, he reminded himself deftly. He’s still a demon--one of the nastiest there are. He took a deep breath. Now the hard part is explaining it to Trish.

He slipped from the car, looking over the building as he followed the Hunter to the door. It…seems small. Not what I expected. But he wasn’t going to complain. Not if he was being given the chance to recover at least some of his strength.

His mind changed as soon as he entered the building. Dante had moved to hang up his coat, and the shadow couldn’t help peeking through a nearby doorway. He came face to face with the female demon that had led the Hunter to the Island. They stared at each other, and then her eyes narrowed. He moved back quickly as she raised her hands, fingers dancing with yellow lightening. Damnit! He crouched down, skin rippling and darkening.

Dante cursed, and without hesitation kicked the Shadow squarely in the face. He then snatched Trish’s wrist to halt her. “Hold on,” he said, easing her back. “This one’s with me--I’ll explain.” He glanced down at the beast in question. “And if you do that again, I’ll waste you.”

“Dante, what’s going on?” Trish demanded, regarding him--and his guest--with anxious concern. “You know what he is, don’t you?”

Zithantharis backed away quickly, out of range of further attack. He covered his face so the others wouldn’t see the pain twisting his features. Damnit, I didn’t even do anything—she was attacking me! He glanced at the closed door, even knowing he wouldn’t try to leave. “Do you even know?” he muttered lowly, moving even further away, leaning against the wall. “You’re the fake here.”

Trish looked like she was about to protest, but Dante beat her to it. “Shut up!” he snarled. “I told you not to talk about her like that.” Already he was wondering if this had been a mistake. Rolling his eyes in exasperation he turned back to Trish. “Sorry. Listen, he’s not one of Mundus’--he’s a deserter. I couldn’t just let him wander off.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I told him if he proved he could stay settled for a while, we might let him off.”

Trish crossed her arms, looking completely unconvinced. But when she looked Zithantharis over, and took note of all his wounds and scars…she relented a little. “Well…I guess it’s all right,” she said at last, glancing away. “It’s not like I can’t sympathize with that.” She smiled at Dante faintly. “Not like he’s much of a danger to the two of us, either.”

Dante’s lip curled. “Heh, maybe. Hear that, Zi?” He glanced over his shoulder. “Looks like you’re in, for now. Hope you’re housebroken.”

He snorted but didn’t make any other reply. At least she’ll let me stay. I don’t like it, but I have no other choice. Using the wall as an aid, he pushed to his feet, tail swinging faintly. “Where should I go?” he asked. “I don’t suppose you keep a kennel.” Since you’re treating me like some animal.

Dante’s smirk broadened. “Well, there’s always the foot of my bed, if you’re feeling adventurous,” he teased. He held up a hand when Trish sent him a curious look. “Kidding, kidding. We don’t have an extra bedroom, but I suppose that won’t matter much. I guess…we have some blankets….” He scratched at his head again and glanced around the main room. “Wherever you can find room, I guess.”

Behind him, Trish snorted quietly and headed for the upstairs. “I’m going up,” she declared. Dante waved her on with a helpless smile.

This…will be interesting. Spotting an over-sized, well-worn armchair, he headed for that. “This will be fine,” he said. He knocked the single pillow off and sat, pulling his legs close as he curled on the thick cushion. He faced the man with glowing eyes and twitching ears. “Are you going to sleep now?”

Dante paused, taken a little off guard by the sight of the demon curled on his chair so casually. With his eyes glowing like that…. He shook himself slightly; this was no evil castle, this was his home. This was one demon, which he had nearly killed earlier without any trouble. There wasn’t anything to be worried about. “Uh, yeah. I think so.” He watched him a while longer, and then laughed at how foolish he was being. “Heh, just keep it quiet, okay? I sleep light.” He turned to leave. “G’night, Zi.”

He blinked slowly. “Good night.” He watched the man continue up the stairs, finally laying his head on the armrest. It was a bit cramped, and fairly chilly, but not too horrible. I suppose I’d better get used to it. He doesn’t seem so bad, despite what I’ve heard. Sparda’s son…. He shifted a bit, closing his eyes. “Zi,” huh?

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