“She practiced magic.” Again this dry answer.
“I was thinking. What if it's not just a riddle, like the one Eve told us. What if it's a magic spell?” she assumed.
Dante looked at herquestionably. “And what could it mean?”
“I'm just giving ideas, I didn't say I have answers for it. I won't do all the work for you.”
Dante thought about her words for a while before his voice filled the air again.
“I need some time to come to a conclusion. Let's go back to the inn and then I–We will think about it.”
Violette nodded and followed him on the way outside.
A rustling in the darkness disrupted her peace again, making her shoot a look back one more time before reaching the stairs. As her leg hovered in the air – ready to take a step – something touched her boot. A panicking shriek echoed from the walls of the hall.
She started to trample on the spot, squeezing her eyes closed before pointing her wand down at the creature. Dante, as impervious as always, lowered the torch to illuminate the ground – a pair of black little eyes looked back at him.
“It's a rat,” he stated and then eyed Violette with discernment in his eyes.
Violette's eyes widened, mouth shut tightly.
“Oh…” was the only thing she exhaled in the air, staring at the little animal which winded away in the next second. That wasn't what Violette imagined when it brushed towards her leg. This place was deadly and dreadful – she could expect anything from monstrous shadows to the scary beasts who like to hide in the darkness.
Dante's face relaxed with a slight smile, that one arrogant and tickling her pride. “What did you want to do with it? Didn't know you were scared of everything small and fluffy,” he mocked.
“Shut up,” she snorted and continued her way.
Something ran under her feet as she crossed the next stair and she practically flew up the stairs outside. The last thing she heard as she breathed the cold air into her lungs was Dante's chuckle as he ascended after her. His pleased look almost made his eyes sparkle with joy, which was incredibly odd to see from someone like him. Perhaps other people's suffering brings him pleasure – Violette thought, glaring at him from under her forehead.
The light wind grazed her face as Dante moved past, and as his cloak swayed her eyes caught the red glimmering on his hip. Her gaze drew to the sheath hanging on his belt, observing the almost black hilt of the dagger pointing out. A big ruby adorned the pommel, pulsating with the color of wine, while the hilt was inlaid in sapphires and amethysts. An interesting shape of crossguard, reminiscent of a bat's wing, captured her attention the most. It seemed too redundant for someone like Dante; he didn't look like a person who values jewelry or cares about such things.
“What is this dagger for?” Violette suddenly asked, observing Dante's look; he indeed didn't pay much attention to how to dress. His attire usually was a dark blue shirt he didn't bother tobutton up to the top, simple pants and black leather boots. Such a pretentious dagger didn't fit his image.
“Daggers have only one purpose,” he uttered indolently and hid the dagger behind his cloak.
“It's just not your style,” she commented, following him.
Dante's brows furrowed.
Violette felt she had to explain, “You don't look like someone who would care about how a weapon looks. It's too…much for you. So I assume it's something more important, otherwise your dagger would be basic and inconspicuous.”
“Hmm,” Dante drawled amusingly.
“So what can it do?”
The smirk played on his lips. “Guess.”
“It's an unfair game,” Violette rebuked. “I can create tons of assumptions, my imagination is pretty vivid. It might take forever.”
“I have this time,” he pleasantly replied.
Violette sent him a persistent look.
Corners of Dante's eyes crinkled, and after a short silence he asked, “Do you know what can kill a vampire?”
“A stake? A silver…something?” she suggested uncertainly.
“That would be a pathetic death. Imagine getting killed with a wooden stick.”
