A Jewel in the Dirt - 28. Unexpected Visitors

It is said when the Great Mother first mated with a human man, she prophesied that all of her children would have at least one flaw. Dante, the Warrior of Light, is in fact the only one of whom some say has no blemish at all, is truly a figure of light - for how else would he have received his title?

However, in most of the stories focusing on him, and in which he protects people or his siblings, flaws are apparent, though perhaps not at first glance. A recurring theme in these same stories is that he refuses to share the bed with mortals. Some say his heart and loins were so cold that only Andros, the Seducer- or optionally not even him- managed to warm him. Others say that he had a passionate affair with Diana, the Huntress. And others claim that he found fulfillment only in his love-hate relationship with his brother Deimos.

~
 

Dante was rinsing the last of the remaining cereal out of his mouth with milk when Frank entered. Or rather, he stopped halfway in the doorway and looked at Dante, who lowered his eyes after only two heartbeats. He had awakened before the alarm clock rang and had literally fled, having breakfast alone and now feeling not only caught but pathetic. He had stood up for Henry because it was a matter of justice; he cared for Frank because he liked Frank. It was perhaps the first time in his life that he had done such things without a single command or sense of duty behind it, and to be rejected in such a way hurt. It was ironic that only a short time before he had talked to Mistress Alice about the pain of life.

"Why didn't you wait for me?", Frank wanted to know quietly, coming closer.

"I was under the impression you'd rather do things on your own," Dante returned just as quietly.

"I..." Frank looked at his injured hand, "I've had to do things on my own so far. I'm not used to... having someone take care of me like this. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." With a gesture which said he was searching for words, he broke off.

Dante nodded curtly, holding onto his breakfast bowl.

Frank sighed, and Dante, already feeling a little better after this apology, watched with newly burgeoning concern as Frank struggled with himself. "You're right, I need your help," he finally brought out.

With a cautious smile, Dante rose. "Then sit down, I'll take care of your breakfast."

"That's not what I meant. You don't have to-" Frank immediately began to protest, but Dante interrupted him, already opening the refrigerator.

"Don't take offense, but even Henry, who's been practicing at this for a little eternity now, can't manage to crack an egg with just one hand."

"I'm not that stupid or stubborn to try," Frank grumbled. "But I can still make a cup of coffee, at least."

"No way. You sit down." A bowl of eggs in hand, piled high with cheese, bacon, and all manner of other things that went into their omelet, Dante turned and took the cup from Frank's hand as he passed. Or at least he intended to. Half he placed the bowl on the counter, half he reached for the cup- and Frank didn't let go. Or at least delayed, which resulted in neither of them getting a hold of the cup and it shattering on the floor.

"Damn it! Sorry!" Immediately Dante squatted down and began- biting his lip- to pick up the shards. It was Frank's green cup, which everyone here in the household seemed to take better care of than of Frank himself. "Shit..." he muttered, looking up as Frank reached for his wrist. He, too, had crouched down.

"It's just a cup."

"It's your cup."

"It's just a stupid cup," Frank repeated seriously. They looked at each other and Dante felt strangely uncomfortable.

"Sorry. Let me clean this up, you have enough cuts already..."

Frank sighed and made no attempt to let go of him. "Listen, Dante, could we maybe do things together?"

Unsure of what to say, Dante raised his brows.

"I'll admit that I need help and I'll accept it, in return you won't treat me like a child or a cripple, and you won't do everything alone."

"I-"

"We are not slave and master."

"We-" Dante shut his mouth with an audible clack, trying to read something from Frank's serious face. Well, except that said seriousness gave way to uncertainty after a few heartbeats, Dante didn't see much there. "What kind of we are we, then?" he asked in a whisper and Frank whispered back strangely hoarse:

"For a start, if there is a we at all, it would be enough for me."

Confused, Dante wanted to ask in which category the things they had done together so far fell then, but Frank beat him to it:

"Is there... a we?" Hoarse, uncertain, almost shaky was his voice and Dante got goose bumps. To Frank, this was real and, Dante realized with trepidation, there were probably more feelings behind it than he had assumed. The only question was how to deal with it himself.

"I don't know, Frank, I belong to your sister..." he answered hesitantly.

Frank nodded reluctantly. "I at least want there to be a we."

Dante faintly smiled, still searching for a vaguely held answer, when Frank already leaned over and kissed him. Very gently and lightly, but as if Dante's smile had already been answer enough for him. Dante was caught off guard.

"Good morning!" Henry chimed in all of a sudden, sleepy but in a good mood. "Yikes! What happened here?"

"I dropped Frank's cup..." Dante said, clearing his throat because his voice sounded very strange.

"Oh, I'll get the broom," Henry offered immediately as Frank stood up.

"No, never mind, I'll do it. Help Frank with breakfast, will you? I'll sweep it up and..." He looked over his shoulder at Henry, who nodded hastily. Had he seen the kiss? If so, they had a problem.

"Do you want me to make you a coffee first?" the boy wanted to know from Frank, however. "Or won't it taste good from another cup?"

Oddly enough, Frank blushed. "Yes. No." He kneaded the hem of his shirt with his healthy hand. "I'll make one."

"Okay."

Dante really just wanted to get out of here.

~

True to the maxim 'talking helps', Dante had decided after careful consideration to come clean with his mistress. He would start carefully with hints, but he already suspected that she would see through him. Putting her freshly laundered clothes in her wardrobe, he began a casual conversation:

"What happened to your plans for a short vacation?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. We're going to Denser's Port."

"Denser's Port?" he echoed in surprise. "That's pretty far for a short vacation."

"Oh, well... I've been having some thoughts, you know..."

"Do you want to make up with Valentine?"

She remained without an answer for so long that he finally turned around- she looked at him, puzzled. "No." she said at last.

"But why Denser's Port, of all places?" he asked hesitantly.

"I think," she said slowly, tilting her head, "you didn't quite understand me. We're going to Denser's Port."

For a moment he wondered if there could be another town with that name, then he stumbled over the we. Again, a we. "We...?"

"We." She nodded.

"Oh." Any thought that he had actually wanted to talk to her about Frank vanished.

~

"Come on, just a sip."

"No, thanks." Dante demonstratively pushed aside the beer bottle Tom was holding in his face. Blaise's birthday was being celebrated in the slaves' lounge, and he had donated beer.
"Come on," Sawyer, who was sitting on the couch on Dante's other side and now put an arm around his shoulders, now began, "just try it. You don't have to like the taste..." He winked at him and Dante sighed. He had definitely gotten the wrong seat.

Frank, Henry and Mikey- "the minors" -had left a while ago, and since then the temperature down here had risen a few degrees. In all likelihood, Blaise had taken the cages off the work slaves to celebrate the occasion, and where that would lead, Dante could guess. To oblige Sawyer, he finally tried some of the beer and grimaced at the bitter taste.

"I'd have something that tastes better." Tom grinned, and Dante's face grimaced even more. In the background, the house slaves said their goodbyes, and if Sawyer hadn't held him gently but firmly, he would have left, too.

It must have been half an hour before Dante managed to break away from Tom and Sawyer- he certainly didn't want to find out if they expected him to choose one of them, or if this should have resulted in a threesome. He hadn't quite reached the stairs leading upstairs when Blaise called after him.

"Are you sure you want to go already?"

"Work's not going to take care of itself tomorrow," Dante returned, and Blaise nodded thoughtfully before putting on a smile. He sauntered closer and Dante already thought he was going to reach out to him, but only Blaise's smile changed, becoming an invitation of sorts.

"If you don't want to stay, we can leave together."

"Um..." Dante grew uncomfortably cold and hot at the same time, torn between his sense of duty not to reject a wish from a free man- the master of the house, moreover- and loyalty to his mistress. "I don't think that would be a good idea..." he finally said cautiously, and to his quiet surprise Blaise nodded simply.

"As you wish."

It was only as Dante climbed the stairs to the upper floor when he remembered that Blaise had once been a slave himself, and therefore apparently took it seriously to give slaves a choice in certain matters as well. In Dante's eyes, this raised his respect level considerably.

~

Dante stopped the car in front of the barn converted into a workshop, whose large gate Matthew had already opened.

"Do you want me to drive you back first?" Matthew wanted to know as Mistress Alice got out. With a shake of her head, she slammed the car door shut.

"Thanks for the offer, but an early morning walk isn't bad at all."

Matthew nodded skeptically; it had been snowing like crazy the last two days. "Whatever you say." Then he turned to Dante and nodded toward the workshop. "Come in slowly."

Dante let the car roll in at a snail's pace.

"What's it supposed to be? Anything broken?", Matthew then wanted to know and Mistress Alice sighed; in the rearview mirror Dante saw her shaking her head.

"A thorough check, that's all. It's a long way to Denser's Port, and I don't want to get stuck halfway there."

"I can understand..." Matthew slowly returned.

Dante stopped the car and turned off the engine, then got out; there was a certain tension in the air, and he was almost sure Matthew had been thinking directly about Valentine, too. He couldn't blame him.

"Dante, you stay here and help Matthew. I want you to learn something," Mistress Alice said, and Dante raised his eyebrows in wonder.

"Yes, Mistress."

Matthew looked surprised as well. "I thought you used to be a chauffeur."

"Being a chauffeur means driving a car, not screwing on it." Dante grinned wryly and touched the sapphire on his collar. "I'm upper class, after all." That came out kind of more mocking than he'd intended, but Mistress Alice smiled, genuinely amused.

"Don't be so cocky."

"Yes, Mistress." His grin became genuine. Or at least more genuine, because Matthew's discomfort was palpable.

With a fake sigh, she turned to Matthew and raised her hands apologetically. "He's terribly ill-mannered."

"You're too soft-hearted." returned Matthew softly, and Dante grinned a little wider.

"Yes, that too..." She smiled and Matthew blushed. "If you're not ready by lunch, just call, okay?"

Matthew nodded in silent devotion, which Dante thought was kind of cute.

Mistress Alice nodded at them and sauntered off.

Unabashed, Matthew watched her go for a moment and then patted the large roll-up door invitingly, which they slid shut together, shutting out the cold wind. The discomfort fell away from Matthew for the most part, Dante could see it, but a certain tension remained. Secretly, he wondered why Matthew didn't open his mouth when everyone knew how he felt about Alice anyway, and a little he hoped they would warm up to the point where he could ask him about it without offending him.

"What do you actually want in Denser's Port?" Matthew asked abruptly, putting a hand on the roof of the car as if he could feel where the problem lay.

"I have no idea, honestly," Dante replied, shrugging underlining the point.

"Not visiting Val, are you...?" Again, uncertainty flickered in Matthew's eyes.

"I doubt it. He provoked her, and I'll be damned if she doesn't know it." Yes, Dante honestly believed, Valentine had deliberately gambled that his fiancée would take care of her brother rather than accompany him, thus avoiding having to end the relationship himself.

Slowly, Matthew nodded.

Dante had no idea how well the neighbors here really knew each other, but since everyone here had grown up together, he doubted Valentine's ambitions had passed anyone by.

All at once, Matthew straightened his shoulders. "Any known issues?"

"Not that I know of, but Blaise said one of the headlights is flickering," Dante replied slowly.

"Well, turn on the lights and we'll see." The hint of a smile played around Matthew's lips as he nodded to Dante.

With more momentum than necessary, Dante pulled the driver's door back open and leaned in, turned the ignition key without starting the engine, and then turned on the lights- both of which clicked loudly, clearly betraying the car's age.

Matthew had stepped aside and nodded to himself. "Okay, it's really flickering on the left. Turn off the lights and pop up the hood."

Dante groped underneath the steering wheel and not finding the lever for the hood right away, dropped into the driver's seat. When he pulled it, there was a loud, metallic clack, which for a moment made him afraid he'd broken something, but Matthew hummed his approval, so he turned off the light.

"Check the glove box," Matthew then said. "Maybe Blaise has already bought a lamp. If he noticed, maybe he was thinking right along."

Dante watched Matthew reach boldly into the engine compartment, suddenly eager to learn something new. In driver's ed, he'd merely learned to drive a car- and to put gas in it, although most gas stations in Denser's Port had someone to do it for you- and he felt a little foolish. Presumably it wasn't just true of electrical technology that 95% of the problems sat in front of the device. He leaned over the center console and opened the glove box, which was empty except for a few papers, tissues, and a small lamp pack. "Okay, found it," he said, closing the compartment before straightening up.

At that very moment, a silver shape darted past and Matthew cried out in surprise, then gasped.

Dante blinked through the windshield, but saw nothing but the open hood of the car - until a second silver figure came into view from the side. For a moment he had to think of the snow spirits from the children's stories he had heard from the nuns, because the man was chalky pale under a layer of dirt and the pale blond head and beard hair did the rest. Sobering, however, was the fact that he was holding a large wrench.

"We' re not going to hurt you." It was the other man, his voice sounding harsh. He took a few steps to the side so that Dante and he could now see each other- he held Matthew pressed against him and a pair of pliers against his throat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dante saw the blond raise the wrench.

"We don't want to hurt you, we just want food and-"

"You're the ones who escaped from the steel mill." Dante found his voice again so suddenly that he surprised himself, and he had no idea if it was really true, either.

"None of your business." the man growled, obviously anything but pleased- whether at the interruption itself or because Dante was correct was hard to say.

"As long as you're threatening us, it's very much my business," Dante said, trying for composure. Mistress Alice had told him on the way over that Matthew had finally been acknowledged as heir, and if Dante allowed anything to happen to him, maybe even allowed him to die because two escaped slaves ran amok, then he'd be able to shove his prospects for freedom down his throat. Along with receiving a proper punishment, of course. Slowly and unobtrusively, he felt for the secret compartment in the center console where the pistol was hidden- maybe the best idea Miss Carolyn had had in her life.

Matthew, clutching his assailant's arm, gasped. "You can have food, that's not the problem, but-" He broke off, choking.

Stunned, Dante looked at him. "Matthew! What's the penalty for collaborating?" What would the local laws do to a 'freeborn' man in such a case?

"Shut up!", Matthew choked back.

"Get out!" the man hissed. He gave his sidekick a hard look, who then took a few steps toward Dante.

The secret compartment was now open, Dante's fingers touching the gun. The blond seemed as caught off guard by what was happening as Dante felt, but that was of no use to him when the second, dark-haired, was the truly dangerous one.

"Get out!" he hissed a second time as his sidekick stepped even closer.

Dante's fingers had closed fully around the pistol and he pulled it out of the compartment before rising as normally as he could- except that he pointed the gun at the blond as he did so. Matthew gave a choked gurgle as Dante said coolly: "Okay, guys, nice and easy. You're going to drop your tools and fuck off."

The blond's eyes grew wide, his hand holding the wrench sank down. Clanking, the metal hit the concrete floor.

"Chris!" hissed the man threatening Matthew. "Chris, what are you doing?"

But Chris shook his head, appearing to be resigned, and Dante was sure that there had been no real danger from him in the first place. He pointed the gun at the dark-haired man and looked at him challengingly.

"I mean it. Get out of here- real fast and real far." He saw Matthew tense and blink ever so slowly.

"No."

If there was another way, Dante didn't see it- he pulled the trigger.

The man's eyes snapped open in amazement, Matthew elbowed him in the ribs, and when Dante fired a second time, he staggered.

Hands pressed to his throat, Matthew ducked a little awkwardly to the side and Dante, seeing the attacker's hands twitch in Matthew's direction, fired a third time.

The man slumped.

Very deliberately, Dante had to take his finger off the trigger and take a deep breath.

"Ma-Max?" Chris whispered coarsely. "Max?"

Dante's heart hammered in his chest, his gaze flickering from Max to Matthew, back to Max, and on to Chris, who looked shocked and staggered forward a step or two.

"Sorry..." Max blinked rapidly and coughed. "It was a stupid idea..."

Dante could agree with him wholeheartedly on that.

Max turned his face in Chris' direction, specks of blood now gracing his lips. "Sorry..."

Dante could almost see Max dying, and turned his attention- and gun- now to the remaining problem. "Okay, my friend, now about you."

Chris had turned even paler by now, looking incredibly unhealthy.

"Get on your knees and put your hands on your head. I've got a few more bullets..." Five, to be exact.

"No need..." The escaped slave's voice broke. He looked as if he wasn't even aware of the nerve-wracking slowness of his movements, but that didn't reassure Dante. He could feel it twitching in his face.

"Very nice..."

Matthew rasped and cleared his throat with an effort.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so..." he replied coarsely.

More out of the corner of his eye, Dante watched as Matthew- still massaging his throat- squatted down next to Max and hesitantly felt for a pulse. Dante felt nauseous and suddenly it took all his concentration not to shake uncontrollably.

"Chris... right?"

Dante almost jumped out of his skin in shock when Matthew spoke.

"Right...", Chris confirmed quietly. His face was empty in a creepy way, Dante thought, as Matthew, now holding the pliers, walked up to Chris.

"Sorry, Chris, but I'm not letting anybody threaten me on my own property." Matthew coshed the pliers over Chris's skull and silently he slumped.

For a moment there was a tremendous silence, except for Matthew's raspy breathing.

Slowly, Dante put the gun down, placed it on the roof of the car, and began to tremble.

"Unconscious." Matthew muttered.

"He's dead, isn't he? The other one. Max.", Dante said quietly, staring at Matthew, who turned to him and nodded after a hesitation. "Shit."

Matthew shook his head. "Thanks."

"No, damn, fuck, I killed... I killed the guy!" It was completely beyond Dante's comprehension why Matthew just looked at him so calmly.

"Yeah. But I didn't get the impression that he was hesitant on his part to kill me. So thank you, Dante."

The burgeoning hysteria was muted by Matthew's outward composure, and Dante tried to take a deep breath. He wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered violently.

"The police." Matthew said dully, also shaking now. "We have to..." He groaned, and when Dante raised his gaze, he looked like he was about to throw up. But another thought occurred to him.

"Alice!"

"Hmm?"

"There are five slaves who escaped from the steel mill and these are just two! Where are the others?" he wanted to know, and his heart began to race again.

Matthew's eyes grew wide. "Get the gun and take Alice home! I'll take care of this."

Dante didn't hesitate, but snatched up the gun, pushed the gate open just enough for him to slip through, and ran.

It was only when he saw Mistress Alice strolling leisurely across the snowy fields toward the Mitchell farm, apparently completely lost in thought, that it occurred to him that leaving Matthew alone might not have been the wisest idea, but then again, Mistress Alice was a tempting target.

"Mistress!" he called out, gasping. "Mistress!"

Confused, she turned around. "Dante... did something happen?"

He stumbled the last few steps toward her and literally dropped into her embrace to catch his momentum.

"Great Mother, Dante..."

"The slaves..." he gasped into her collar. "From the steel mill... they attacked us..."

She squeaked out. "You're okay? What about Matthew?"

"I'm fine."

She pushed him off her and he nodded hastily as she eyed him.

"But Mistress... that was only two... and there were five that escaped..."

She turned pale. For a few long seconds they held on to each other, then she said: "We'll go home and call the police." Immediately, she wanted to pull Dante along by the wrist, but he merely made a move. The gun in his jacket pocket suddenly weighed a ton.

"Mistress... I... I killed one of them."