Fate turned and slowly dragged the book from off the bookshelf and held it out to Dante. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m…I’m going to…” Dante began, sweat creeping down his brow. “…touch it.”
“Are you sure you should?”
“I…I have…I have to know. O-On the table. P-Put it there.”
Fate could see how Dante was suffering. “You don’t have to touch it to know, Dante. You get a feeling from the book without touching it. Why put yourself through this?”
“I have to, Fate,” Dante said, his words more determined. “Don’t you see? I…I have to know what I am, w-where I belong, and who my en…my enemies are.”
“Take my word for it, Dante, you don’t want God for an enemy. You certainly don’t want Him mad at you.He’s the one who defeated Satan, you know.”
Dante looked down at the book as if it were a poisonous snake. After a few seconds, he took a deep breath, and then slowly reached out, his hand getting closer and closer.