“Dieu m’aide…”

At the front doors of the mansion Dante stepped off the saddle and tied his horse to a support beam on the porch.

“I’ll be back soon,” Matrona promised, “you have my word.”

Past the heavy doors, Dante found himself in an entryway. To his front: a locked door,  his left: an assortment of dead roses, and his right: a cracked door.

The room was empty, only a door to another room, a pantry in the corner, as well as various cuts of meat Dante couldn’t identify, though what appeared to be mostly wild animals.

Mostly.

“Where is everyone…” Dante wondered aloud.

Crash!

Matrona’s body tensed and unconsciously faced the door of the adjoining room. 

With his right hand, Dante reached and unsheathed the sword from his back, and with his left hand on the doorknob, he pushed forward.

A large, oval table took its place in the center of the room, chairs lined its sides, and the overall aesthetics was topped off with a posh-looking tablecloth.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Matrona saw a bulge in the lower parts of the cloth disappear under the cloth. 

With his sword at his side, Dante reached down and pulled the cloth up.

“No! No! Get away! Get away from me!”

Matrona jumped back against the wall, wielding the sword with both hands in front of his chest. 

Hiding huddled beneath the table was a man dressed in red, occult robes, hiding his hood over his face.

“What in God’s name are you doing here!?” asked Dante.

“Must stay hidden,” mumbled the man, “can’t let it touch my skin.”

Matrona lowered his sword and made his way to the window at the far end of the room. 

Cleary the man was in some kind of hysteria, and he needed to be let out as soon as possible.

“No! Stop!” the man rushed from underneath the table and held Matrona’s hand away from the curtains, “You mustn’t open that window!” 

“Get off! It’s not safe for you here!”

With a final shove, the man was sent to the floor and Dante ripped back the curtains.

Moonlight flooded through the room and encased everything it touched in an endless, luminous glow.

“No! No! Stop! Make it go away!”

Matrona was in the midst of fidgeting the window open when he saw it: the man in red writhing on the floor, grey tufts of something furry growing out of the sleeve ends, and his face becoming… houndlike?

“What in the name of-”

“Get away! You must leave while you still can!”

In an instant, the man had transformed. The robe was torn to shreds and replaced with grey fur, its arms had become additional legs with paws, and its nose had become a snout.

“Get back-” 

The werewolf smashed its bodyweight into Matrona, launching his sword into the table and sending him back through the door and onto a table.

The wolf didn’t miss a beat. It crashed through the door and pounced onto Dante, but with a quick reaction just barely stopped its snout in place, only inches away from his neck. 

Mantrona thrashed around the table, trying to throw off the werewolf, but to no avail. The world began to grow dark until his fingertips brushed against the handle of something.

Using his last bit of force, Dante wrapped his fingers around the object and smashed it against the wolf’s head.

It jumped back but didn’t pounce back, instead staring and snarling at Matrona with curious eyes. He followed its gaze to the object in his hands: a leg of lamb.

“Y-You want this?” 

Dante waved the leg around. Expectedly, the werewolf’s eyes followed.

“Go get it!”

Dante through the leg into a pantry at the side of the room. The wolf watched the meat hit the ground, waited a second to confirm the safety and bolted in to feast.

When he was sure it was safe, Matrona rushed to the door and slammed it shut, pushing a nearby table against the door just to be safe.

“Merci au Seigneur…” muttered Dante.

Returning to the dining room, Matrona retrieved his sword from the table and proceeded through the only other door in the room.

On the other side of the door, Dante finds himself in a dark, seemingly endless hallway; which he continues down.

Minutes, tens of minutes, maybe an hour later, Matrona stops in place.

“Show yourself, demon!”

Something sharp pierced into Dante’s shoulder and lifted him up off of the ground. He let out a painful, ungodly scream and looked back at his attacker: a large, boney creature with a deer skull in place of its face.

“A new plaything…” its voice was deep and intelligible.

“Unhand me you… you…”

Matrona’s mind fogged and a darkness surrounded his heavy eyes. His shoulder burned like a fire and his body followed suit in submission.

“We are going to play a game of cat and mouse,” it said, “If you survive, you win. If you don’t…”

The creature laughed a low, inhumane laugh and threw Dante to the floor. The stinging all across his body consumed his body, and he closed his eyes.

To Be Continued.