Disclaimer: Castlevania © Konami. "Sympathy for the Devil" and all original characters and places © Christine J. Burke.

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 1: Ill-Fated Contrivance

Deep in the mountains in the region of Europe known as Valachia is a small but thriving village. The village seems oddly untouched by the affects of Dracula's Curse, though the menace of the Curse plagued the land for three years before its malice suddenly and unexpectantly eased. It's been nearly two years since that fortunate boon and Trevor Belmont was once again proclaimed a hero and a mighty warrior of God.

That's not to say that this particular small town, known as Targo, was not plagued by its own problems. The people of this village are resourceful and know much of the ancient ways. Perhaps that's due to the various gypsy bands that frequent the area or it might be due to certain darker influences. For whatever reason, the town has weathered the Chaos and is slowly beginning to recover from the Nightmare.

A little outside the Town of Targo, about and hour brisk walk up the mountain is a strange house set back in the woods. Located in a clearing, and part of what is obviously a moderately sized compound, the house seems quite comfortable yet slightly out of place for the mountainous region.

Across from the house, on the other side of the compound, is a building that is very obviously a smith's forge. Over the years the forge has been used for many things but now it is clearly being used for its intended purpose. Along the outside of the building many metal objects, from farm tools to statuary and masonry frames, line the various pathways leading to the dirt road linking the village with the smith's compound.

In the back of the compound is a fair sized barn and stable. The clucking of hens and the softy whinny of a pair of horses can be heard inside. Along side the barn, between the house and the stable, is a small garden. The last of the squash and melons have been taken in and the garden is cleared in preparation of the upcoming winter.

The days are growing shorter and much colder. This makes little difference to the young man who works the forge. The fire in the well-constructed building constantly provides heat for all three buildings in the compound due to careful engineering. The fires even provide for indoor heated plumbing.

As the day begins to die away, painting the mountain sky a brilliant, but somber crimson, the young man at the bellows of the forge begins his own preparations for turning down the forge for the night. He has little concern if the fire goes out other than that it will provide a cold night for him in his bed. Starting a new fire is quite easy for him.

When the door to his forge opens he smiles softly under the scrap of thick cloth over his mouth and nose. He hardly looks like a blacksmith. He's wearing a pair of simple leather pants that lace up the sides of his legs. Over these leather pants he's wearing a pair of thigh-high leather boots with short heels. Other than the concealing blacksmith's apron and the elbow-high, thick but tight fitting, leather gloves, he can claim no other clothing.

His soft, clear eyes reflect the dim red glow of the coals, turning the irises an almost demonic shade of red. Combined with his strawberry and crimson red hair, pale skin and his extensive tattooing, the image of an otherworldly being is complete. To compliment the strangeness of the young man, his build is hardly that of a typical black smith. His thin, lightly muscled, lithe body seems more at home on a dance floor than swinging a hammer. However, anyone who sees him working would ever doubt that his skills as a smith are largely unparalleled.

When the sounds of the footsteps can be heard over the crackling coals the young man calls out to his guest, "I'm sorry. I've already turned down my forge for the evening. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to come back tomorrow."

His guest pauses for a moment, looking down at the cracked and splintered sword in his hand. He doesn't even look up when he speaks, giving the young man time to examine him more closely. What he sees makes him pause and wonder briefly if he should simply tell the man to depart before he recognizes him.

Standing in front of the fiery-haired young smith is a man with hair so bleach-blond that it looks white. The man's build is a little more muscular than his own and he knows that the blond moves with all the grace of a lord's hunting hound.

The blonde's clothing is what gives him away. Dressed in brushed suede pants and a tight but comfortable blue padded vest the man clearly has a sense of what he needs to travel. The fact that he has armor adorning his legs, arms and chest, carefully sewn to the leather to optimize mobility and defense, accentuates that the blond is no stranger to battle.

The young smith doesn't even have to see the crest on the back of the man's padded vest and armor to know it's the same one that is tattooed to his own back. He also doesn't need the blond to look up to know that the man's eyes are only two shades darker than his own clear blue, tinged with a dull silver.

Standing before him now, lamenting his sword's destruction, is the Devil Forge Master, Hector. The young smith is glad that his muffling cloth, designed to keep the soot from his mouth, nose and lungs, is clearly concealing his own identity. This man before him once swore to kill him. Granted, he deserved it but he won't think about that now.

The smith realizes that he's supposed to respond to whatever the blond said. He thinks for a moment before answering. "I've settled my fire for the night. I can't do anything for your sword now." He doesn't know what compels him to say it. Perhaps he feels some professional pride that makes him say his next words. "That's not to say I can't repair your weapon. It'll have to be done on the morrow though. There is an…"

The young smith is interrupted as another individual walks through the forge's door. "Hector, what is taking so long? Can he fix it or not?" Once the newcomer spots the smith he hisses, "You! It cannot be."

The redheaded young man snaps his gaze up to look at the newest intruder. This situation just went from bad to worse. Much worse now that Hector has shifted his gaze from his weapon to the smith.

Hector lets out his breath with a soft, hushed sound. He breaths out, unbelieving, "Isaac…?"

Indeed, that is the young smith's name and there can be no doubt that it is not some strange coincidence in names. He is the same Isaac that both men in his doorway once tried to kill. Isaac takes a step back, uncertain what his options are.

The man in the doorway moves as fast as a stinging wasp. His hand is immediately at his belt, pulling the harsh whip to bear. Isaac is grateful for the interference of Hector and his counter being in the way. The great Vampire Hunter, who defeated his lord, Dracula, doesn't have a clear shot with that deadly whip.

The Vampire Hunter, Trevor Belmont, lets out a growl of frustration and concern. With Hector's weapon clearly broken on the counter the blond man is vulnerable to attack. He narrows his ice-blue eyes, one side of his face crinkling oddly due to the slash across his left eye. He tosses his thick brown hair back roughly, waiting for an opening.

Trevor Belmont is a practical man. He's dressed for light travel and quick fighting. The duster over his tunic, pants and riding chaps also works as a place to conceal his many vampire-slaying weapons. The belts crossing his hips and chest all contain wicked daggers that Isaac knows first-hand can be thrown with deadly accuracy in an instant.

Isaac steps back as far as he can go before raising his empty gloved hands. "I am unarmed." He thinks about saying something more but decides to wait for a response. He'd rather not fight these two men again but he won't beg for his life. He doesn't expect any mercy from either of them anyway.

Hector glances back at Trevor for a moment. He knows it's a risky move but Isaac makes no move to attack. He holds his hand up to Trevor. "Stay your hand, Belmont. We didn't come here to fight."

Trevor glares at Isaac. "No, but I wouldn't trust that fiend at my back, Hector. Don't forget what he's capable of."

Isaac grimaces and says under his breath, "God hates me. It must be true."

Hector raises an eyebrow at Isaac. "Just why are you here? How can you be alive? What are you planning?"

Isaac blinks at Hector in the growing darkness. Even the soft glow of the forge can't hold it back for much longer. He takes a deep breath and says, "I work as the local blacksmith and I plan on keeping it that way. If you're looking for high and mighty ambitions you're looking in the wrong place. I had my taste of power and it left a foul taste in my mouth."

Hector seems about to respond when Trevor steps forward. Isaac cringes back for a moment but visibly gathers himself. No, this is not the cruel ambitious man out for revenge against the death of his lord. Trevor gives him a closer inspection and notices several scars that mar the streamline beauty of Isaac's tattoos. Some of those scars are clearly from debilitating wounds. It must have taken Isaac a long time to recover from the events two years ago.

Isaac clears his throat as he stands up and faces Trevor Belmont in what is clear defiance. "If you think I'm just going to roll over and let you kill me you are sorely mistaken. I lived through Dracula's destruction twice. I survived the collapse of everything I knew and the betrayal and abandonment of those I held dear. I will not submit now. I still have some pride left to me."

Hector reaches out a hand to stay Trevor's arm. "We didn't come here for this."

Trevor glances at Hector and then back at Isaac. He fixes his duster with a harsh jerk and rewraps the whip at his waist. He glares at Hector as he turns for the door. "Do as you like." He nods scornfully at Isaac. "Don't turn your back on that one, Hector."

Hector doesn't say anything as Trevor leaves. He just turns his gaze back to Isaac. The silence extends between them for some time before Isaac says, "It's getting dark. I take it you two don't have a place for the night. The inn will be closed by the time you get there, if it isn't by now."

Hector looks at him before shaking his head. "We've been traveling through the mountains camping along the way. We stay in town when we can but…" He looks at Isaac. "Julia is wary about spending too much time in town. The witch-hunts have resumed in earnest."

Isaac frowns. "You're traveling in the open with Julia through the mountains? Are you insane!"

Hector cringes lightly. He's been feeling rather guilty about bringing Julia along himself. "She insisted."

Isaac takes in a deep breath and swipes a hand slowly over his face to push down the cloth covering his mouth and nose, revealing the tattoo on his right cheek. He smirks lightly. "Julia always was a bull-headed woman."

Isaac shakes his head and moves to take off both the cloth and the apron. He pulls off both gloves and simply lays them over the counter. He goes to the door and hangs up his apron. He looks back at Hector as he pulls down a fur-lined coat and dons it. Isaac shakes his head as he says, "I'm locking up my forge for the night, Hector. I can't do anything about your sword tonight. I'll work on it first thing tomorrow morning. For now you can put your horses in the stable and stay the night."

Hector's eyes widen at that. "It's clear you don't trust us, Isaac. Why offer us your home?"

Isaac shrugs. "You're here. What else should I do? Send you out to the woods on a cold, full-moon night to play with the were-wolves?"

Hector grins. "This is how I remember you before Dracula's Curse…"

Isaac holds the door open for Hector to leave and then turns to lock the door behind them. When he turns to face the others he's not surprised to see Trevor glaring at him and Julia's wide eyes gazing out the window of a carriage at him. Another woman is beside her but Isaac's eyes are settled only on his sister.

Julia reaches for the small door of the carriage but Isaac shakes his head and just goes to the front of the team of two horses and starts to lead them to the stables. Once inside he unhitches the carriage and sets each horse up in their own stall, feeding them hot mash along with his own two work horses and one riding steed.

Isaac leaves the others to ponder his actions as he does all the nightly things that must be done in the stables before retiring to the house. Hector and Julia clearly have questions while the other woman hovers near Trevor, trying to calm him.

As Isaac listens to their soft bantering he learns that the woman is Sypha Belnades, an exorcist of considerable power who helped Trevor defeat Lord Dracula the first time, five years ago. She's dressed in the grey robes of her order, long since used to concealing her appearance and gender. She remains an enigma.

Once Isaac is done in the stables he turns to his guests and says "It's warmer in the house…" He doesn't even look back at them as he moves to lock up the barn and stables and returns to the house.

Once inside the house Julia can't contain her questions any longer. She blurts out, "How, Isaac? Why?"

Isaac hangs his coat by the door and turns to look at her, leaning against the back of the door. "How? Why?" He takes out a flint and sets a flame to a candle before using the candle to light all the little oil lamps in each of the downstairs rooms. As he's doing this he looks thoughtful.

Finally he speaks, "How did I survive you mean?" He doesn't even look at them as he pauses to look up, as if for inspiration. "I don't know. I have more lives than a cat, apparently. I do remember being bested by Hector, falling in and out of consciousness, feeling Lord Dracula possessing my body and watching as he and Hector fought. I watched it all, Julia…and there was nothing I could do…about any of it." He grimaces and shrugs uncomfortably.

Julia whispers, "It was the only way to save you…"

Isaac smiles softly at her. "That doesn't make it hurt any less."

Julia can only look down at the ground, examining the well-kept hardwood floor.

Isaac looks at her and whispers softly, "It's my turn, Julia." He glances at Hector. "Why did you leave me in that place to die? I know I committed many sins but wasn't there something of me with enough value to be worth burying?"

Julia visibly cringes. "I didn't have the strength to take you both…"

Isaac smirks with a self-deprivating grimace. "You never expected me to live. You knew it from the beginning… that I would fail once again."

Julia bites her lip and clenches her eyes shut, tears brimming at the edges. She gives one brief nod of acknowledgement and can say no more.

Isaac looks at Hector and then at Trevor. "I take it you both still want r revenge. To say I deserve it is something of an understatement. I will offer neither of you excuses for my behavior. However, I can offer you reasons why it all happened."

Trevor looks at Isaac and frowns. "What possible reason could justify the atrocities you committed?"

Isaac shakes his head. "I never said the reasons would justify anything. I only meant I can tell you what happened. Maybe you can use it to prevent it from happening to others… or maybe I'd just feel better if I got it off my chest… Who knows? But there it is. Take it or leave it."

Isaac winds his way to the kitchen larder and pulls out a hunk of smoked meat he quickly and expertly chops up and scrapes into a broth he started making earlier that evening. He then pulls out a loaf of bread and looks at them. "I don't have much to offer you. The village sends up fresh bread every day and I get some meat about once a week. I believe it's how the town pays for my services. They really don't want me to just up and leave. Not that I have anywhere else to go."

Julia steps forward. "Did you want some help?"

Isaac shrugs. "There's not much to help with. This won't take all that long." He pulls out a bottle of local red wine. It's not terribly expensive but it's not the worst stuff on Earth either. The body is a little shallow and it's a bit too sweet but it helps to wash down a rather plain dinner.

Trevor crosses his arms and leans against a wall. "How the mighty have fallen. I can't say I'm sorry for you."

Isaac actually chuckles. "It's better to be a humble servant in Heaven than a luxurious slave in Hell, Belmont. Lord Dracula was a harsh taskmaster. The price of failure could be quite high. The price of betrayal…that was always death. All I can say for him now was that he was mostly fair to those who obeyed him."

Hector raises an eyebrow at that. "You didn't always believe that, Isaac. There was once a time you would worship the ground he walked on."

Isaac looks at Hector with a dirty glint in his eyes. "That was before Death decided to give him my body for his resurrection. I don't believe that stain on my soul will ever come clean, not even if I joined the clergy and dedicated my life to absolute devotion to God." He grimaces and takes a large swallow of his wine. "No, I'm destined to go straight to Hell, I'm sure. Not that I'm all that surprised. They've been telling me that since I was born, screaming, from my mother's womb."

Julia looks up sharply at that. She watches her brother with penetrating, knowing eyes. In some ways the siblings are very much alike yet none would guess they are brother and sister unless they were told. Where Isaac's hair is shimmering red, Julia's is a soft gold. Though both their eyes are blue, Isaac's are so clear they reflect the area surrounding him. Julia's eyes can never be mistaken for anything other than blue.

Dressed in a purple dress that matches to the mountain's summer wild flowers, Julia is a stunning beauty to look at yet seems comfortable in humble surroundings. She has no tattoos to mark her as unique and makes no attempt at flamboyant appearance. She often envied her brother's non-chalant air regarding dress. Isaac never really cared much about appearance yet has always had a flair for the dramatic.

Julia looks up to see her brother studying her. She quickly lowers her gaze again, saying nothing.

Isaac shakes his head with a sad look in his eyes. "That won't do, Julia. Don't let this pull you down. I remember my sister's eyes to be full of fierce wisdom. I would like to know that woman survived through the Dark Curse."

Julia whispers, "I betrayed you…"

"No, Julia. You were the only one who was trying to save me. I've always known that."

Julia jerks her head up to look Isaac in the eyes. Isaac's expression is not full of self-pity or scorn. Isaac has given his former situation much thought over the past two years. His eyes show his regret but, more importantly, his face reveals his acceptance. He has moved on. Isaac realizes his mistakes but he has accepted them and is now building his life anew.