Finding Dante's place was simultaneously simpler, and harder than he thought it would be. When they had last met, that Amaro business had changed Nero's view of Dante and what he thought he knew about the guy. At the end of it, Dante had deigned to give him a scrap of paper with an address and a number.

But actually finding the stupid slum and alley where this office claimed to be turned out to be something of a headache. The city, Capulet, was big and seemed to have been laid out by an absolute madman. Streets meandered along higgledy-piggledy and made no sense. Buildings were just crammed together and streets were not always named. Whatever part of the city seemed like a normal, modern city was limited as he ventured into the slums and unsavory neighborhoods. The buildings loomed tall and dingy with kitschy neon signs for pubs, strip clubs and other seedy establishments that put him off and yet appealed to a kind of morbid curiosity he didn't even realize he had.

After the third blind alley he checked, Nero was dangerously close to just punching a building down. At long last though, he found it – frankly he just about stumbled onto it by accident. Dante hadn't bothered to tell him how his business was called but when Nero saw the reddish sign reading 'Devil May Cry', he knew in his gut that this was it. It looked dingier and more run down than Nero expected from a guy with Dante's ego. And it also looked so plain and utterly wide open – but then again, Nero supposed that Dante liked to leave himself wide open and invite trouble.

Still, having an office to run a demon hunting business out of… there was something attractive to that. Perhaps he'd think it over when—if all this mess ended well.

He strode up to the double doors, pulling off the stupid glove he'd been using to conceal his arm and rolled back his sleeve to give the damn thing room to breathe. Immediately his arm's glow increased slightly, as though reacting to a nearby presence of demonic power. Not knowing what really to expect, Nero hesitated for a moment, then pushed open one of the two doors. It opened surprisingly easily with a soft whine. Nero stepped through reluctantly.

Immediately he wrinkled his nose. The air inside smelled a bit stale despite the pathetic, slow turn of a ceiling fan. A worn tile floor stretched ahead of him, stained in places with god knows what and only a couple of carpets under a pool table and coffee table did anything to disguise its age. Near the pool table there was a couch in faded red leather, which once upon a time must've been quite a find, now looking very sorry for itself. All the furniture was old and Nero wouldn't have been surprised if they'd all been yard-sale buys or dumpster finds. The walls were bare plaster, with a few ancient-looking posters, an old dartboard and on the back, a couple of weapons racks with an assortment of mundane-looking firearms and swords. There was even the skull of a demon pinned to the wall by a wicked-looking blade.

The only furniture that seemed to be in better condition was an office desk, a large oaken beast sitting towards the back, almost against the back wall and a large ornate chair where the demon hunter in red presently lounged, legs propped on the desk and a magazine lying open on his face. He seemed to be asleep.

Nero scowled. This wasn't quite how he pictured to meet Dante again. He let the door slam shut in his wake as he entered and stomped all the way up to the elevated wooden floor where the desk stood. Dante did not stir.

"Hey! Old man. C'mon, wake the fuck up," Nero snapped and unceremoniously thumped the desk with his foot.

A dejected sigh emanated from Dante as the crimson clad hunter slowly dragged the magazine down his face, yet making no other move to ruin his comfort. He cast a now revealed eye to the boy as his features betrayed a smarmy smile.

"Well, well! If it ain't the Fortuna kid," he said. "Tired of chasing your own tail at last or is this purely a social call?"

"Shut up," Nero blurted, feeling his hackles rising.

They hadn't been in each other's presence for five minutes and already the old fart was taunting him!

Sitting up while finally removing the magazine from his face entirely, he cast it onto the desk while his weight shifted deeper into his seat, the chair groaning as it strained under the movement before finally settling once more as he came to rest.

"So," Dante said flatly. "I don't see you growing a tail or something, so your arm's fine… and I haven't heard of Fortuna blowing up so you're not on the run. You look good and pissed so your girl didn't dump ya. What does bring you to my business, kid? Don't tell me you need a part-time job."

Nero forced himself to bite back a long list of expletives and gestures he could've directed at him, as well as the happy alternative of using the Devil Bringer to punch him through the wall. He'd just have to live with the fact that Dante was going to give him shit. He could get back at him when he had some answers.

"What, you're keeping tabs on me now?" he bristled.

Dante shrugged, still smiling. "Shouldn't someone?"

"Fuck off," Nero muttered. "I'm here because of this," he said and gestured to the office around him. "You hunt demons for a living. You know shit."

Dante snickered quietly but Nero could tell he had his attention. "I should hope so, been doing it long enough. Is that it, you interested in opening a branch?"

Nero almost walked out then and there. Was Dante reading his goddamn mind, now?! "Maybe. Right now I have other fish to fry. You deal with demons only or what?"

Nero cursed himself quietly. Why couldn't he just spit it out?! Because it sounded stupid, that's why. He had absolutely no evidence that what was happening in Fortuna was dangerous. So people moaned about stuff and he had had a bad dream about the creepy-ass ghost of his dead mentor. But then again… the bruise had been real. Kyrie's fears had been real.

And what he'd seen at the castle had been real.

Dante laughed. "If you're asking whether I take body-dumping jobs, the answer's no. I don't do seedy stuff and I don't do—"

Finally Nero's jaw unclamped. "Do you deal with—with ghosts?"

It was as if he'd said the magic word. Dante's gaze flicked on him properly, the ironic twitch of the eyebrow smoothed and his smile shrank. "Been spookin' yourself, kid?"

"No," Nero snapped. "I think…there's somethin' going on in Fortuna. Like it's…haunted. What the hell do you do with…ghosts?"

He blurted out the word with disbelief. Dante said nothing, just stared at him, as if he expected more. He actually put his legs down from the desk and rested his elbow against it. Nero was reluctant to tell him just how much he'd seen. He certainly wasn't gonna tell him about the dreams.

And yet, Dante didn't taunt him as he'd feared.

"That bad?" he asked quietly.

Nero was taken aback by his sudden sobriety. "It feels like the entire city's lost it." Frustration took him and he started to pace and his speech sped up. "I… saw Credo. I think. I don't know what I saw! He—It looked like him. But it was all…wrong! The eyes were gone and he just… It was…angry."

Dante watched and listened and amazingly, said nothing. But then he stood up, stretched his arms over his head lazily.

"Well then kid, sounds like you've got a real problem on your hands," he said. "Thing is, I don't deal with spooks."

Nero stopped dead and scowled fiercely at him. Looks like he wasn't going to get any help from this stupid old bastard—

Dante snapped up the big familiar broadsword from the rack behind his desk. "Which is why I'm gonna take you to see an expert."

"What?" Nero deadpanned, slightly confused.

"Certified spook chaser. C'mon," Dante said and clapped him on the shoulder twice as he sailed past him towards the door.

Puzzled, Nero followed him. "You have an expert for ghosts?" he blurted.

He realized he couldn't catch Dante's eyes as they trudged along. "Yup. Hate dealin' with spooks myself," Dante confessed as the door closed behind them. He paused for a second then turned around and locked the doors with a set of keys he fished out of his pocket. "So I hand over any such jobs to a pro."

Dante refused to explain anything as he followed a confusing meander through the city streets, ducking into alleys Nero didn't even realize existed to emerge in other streets, leaving the slums for a slightly better-looking, former industrial area. Old brick buildings lined the streets with faded signs and very little indication of being occupied but for neat curtains in some windows. Nero felt that if not for Dante starting to climb up the narrow metal staircase on the side of a large old warehouse, Nero might've actually overlooked the entire damn building that was their destination as if it had never existed; his eye just seemed to pass over the building without quite seeing it.

It was one of those older brick industrial buildings with the big steel-frame windows that would've once housed a small factory or warehouse. The ground floor was taken up by what looked like a vintage bookstore with a faded retro sign; it was closed. At the top of the narrow metal staircase was a small landing with an innocuous-looking door.

Nero twitched suddenly; the moment he put his foot on the stairs he felt a weird little… zing. There was no way to put it into words, it was just a funny little feeling that shot up his arm and he felt it… tingle slightly. The whispering of his arm hushed suddenly, as if suppressed but the 'tone' had changed. It sounded almost excited. He tried to ignore it.

"This is your expert? Some ghost-hunting idiot based out of a warehouse?" Nero sneered. If Dante was just jerking his leg…

"Oh ye of little faith," Dante snarked and raised his fist to thump on the door a couple of times, quite loudly. "You're gonna like her. Best in the business."

"Wait what do you mean her, this isn't—"

Dante thumped on the door again and cupped his hand on one side of his mouth. "Hey c'mon Twig, wake up! Got a job for you!" he barked.

"Twig? What the—"

There was an angry staccato of feet on wooden floorboards from beyond the door and a rattle of locks being unfastened. Nero turned to question what the heck was going on and almost felt his jaw sagging. Dante had… vanished? He immediately whipped around. The old bastard had indeed vanished! He hadn't even heard him go down the stairs!

The door swung open with a small creak and Nero found himself staring at a mass of disheveled red hair. He blinked and looked further down and… nearly knocked himself over the landing's railing because he came face to face with a pale, bleary-eyed zombie and almost jumped backwards.

Well okay, he was doing the poor woman an injustice but she really looked awful. Her freckled face was fixed in a nasty frown, her lips pursed and her nose wrinkled. She had small bags under her green eyes. She was barefoot, wearing just a very baggy black T-shirt with a heavy metal band logo he couldn't recognize and purple boy-shorts with pawprints.

Nero cursed internally in the brief moment the two of them stared at each other. He recognized her…barely…as the witch that had been involved in that colossal mess he'd gotten dragged into, in Amaro, when Dante and his crazy-ass brother were busy resolving a feud that somehow got both him and this witch caught up in it. Although they'd only worked together very briefly and he vaguely remembered her being fairly normal, Nero found himself being suddenly extremely wary. No wonder his arm had started to tingle.

Witches were bad news.

Wasn't her name Tess?

"What," she blurted out, staring at him. "Oh. You."

Nero could help his snappy tone. "You're the expert?!"

"What expert—" she started and then closed her eyes as though a sudden realization arrived. "Oh that fucking—"

She pushed past him and glared down the staircase. "Dante, you sneaky shithead! You can't just fucking wake me up and dump a kid at my door! Fuck you!" she barked and against all odds Nero found himself resisting the urge to smile.

"You," Tess snarled at him. "Get in."

The ginger reached out and snatched one of his coat's lapels and unceremoniously yanked him inside. Whatever Nero had expected a witch's house to look like… it wasn't this. She shoved him further in while she locked the door again, into a loft apartment of bare brick wall, sparely but tastefully furnished – a simple living room arrangement in the large open two-story space ahead of him, with the large windows admitting a lot of light. The back 'wall' was actually two massive bookcases snugly fitted under a mezzanine which was obscured with several folding dividers. A series of handsome folding screens painted in the art deco style obscured the actual contents of the mezzanine. The bookcases were laden with books and knick-knacks and between them Nero could see a curtain hiding entry to another space. A tidy little kitchen with an island counter and chairs was off to one side of the main space.

He had expected a dark space with a bubbling cauldron and a bunch of hanging herbs and stuff like preserved chicken feet and hands in jars. Maybe some shrunken heads. At least, a broomstick.

Tess pushed past him, waving him towards the unassuming couch. "Sit. I need five minutes."

She didn't even wait for him to answer; she just trudged up a narrow little staircase to the mezzanine. Normally he would've been extremely irritated at this treatment… but he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the wrath of a woman when she's up long before she planned to be. Besides, he remembered that Tess wasn't as harmless as her tiny stature assumed. He just clomped over to the couch and, after removing the Red Queen from his back and propping it up against the arm, proceeded to sit heavily.

An 'expert' Dante had said. Nero was definitely going to punch the daylights out of the old man when he got his hands on him. An expert indeed! Nero didn't trust witches. The Order had always drilled it into his head that they were nothing more than the natural allies of demons, the perennial enemies of the Order. Even now that his connection with the Order was long over and he knew very well that most of their teachings about witches were propaganda, it was hard to let it all go. Besides, why should he believe that witches were indeed anything but dangerous? Witches can twist people, demons, heck even the world itself to their whim. They don't fight fairly. They deceive and they subvert, that's how they survive. What about that makes anyone feel safe?

A soft meow made him look up and also made him realize that he was frowning quite fiercely. His face relaxed as he beheld the luminous green eye of a large grey cat which emerged from beneath the coffee table. It had semi-long fur with a particularly fluffy tail. Its left eye was sealed shut by a pretty big scar running diagonally down from its forehead to its cheek. Nero was taken aback; he'd really gotten used to most animals giving him a really wide berth since his arm had changed. He always assumed that he gave off some kind of demonic aura that drove them away. This cat however meowed again, in what sounded like a friendly way and came closer. Nero assumed it might be more tolerant because it lived with a witch. Probably some weird cat familiar thing.

Still, without thinking about it, he held out his normal hand to the animal and then smiled to see the cat give his fingers some careful sniffs, tickling his hand with its whiskers. Finally satisfied as to his olfactory identity, the cat proceeded to butt its head against his knuckles and Nero's smile grew. His fingers wandered across the cat's velvety head and a deep purr emerged from the animal, which enjoyed his ministrations across its back. By the time Tess thumped down the stairs again, dressed, the cat was comfortably curled by his thigh.

Dressed in jeans, a black tank and a pale blue and grey plaid shirt with a black velvet choker tight around her neck, she looked more civilized than earlier but… still not quite like a witch? Not that Nero was certain how witches are supposed to dress. She marched right into the kitchen… and got coffee going.

"So Dante's dumped you at my door like a lost puppy," she sighed and ran her hand over her face. "I'd apologize for him but we both know that's pointless. I hope he's not just pulling my leg."

"Is he always such a fucking asshole?" Nero muttered, his thumb tracing soft scratches under the cat's chin.

Tess snorted. "Worse, sometimes. Don't let him get to you; the more you show him it bothers you, the more he does it. You take sugar?"

Nero was taken aback. Was she… making him coffee? "One," he said sheepishly.

She nodded and turned back to the coffee. "So. Why are you here, Nero?"

He hesitated. It was one thing to tell Dante, in search for advice, and it was quite another to lay out his problem before a stranger – a witch! She seemed to sense his hesitation because she let him grapple with it until she stooped over him with a mug that she pushed into his hands. The coffee was warm and aromatic and when he took a sip it trickled down his throat and sent a nice shot of warmth he didn't think he needed through his body. He felt his limbs release some built up tension like a harshly coiled spring allowed to relax. Unexpectedly a muffin, studded with chocolate chips, was pressed into his Devil Bringer hand.

Tess smiled sympathetically down at him. "I know it's hard to just air your griefs to a stranger. But you clearly need some help and if Dante brought you here, it's about the dead."

She sat across him in an armchair with another mug of coffee. She was studying him with a sober look on her face. Nero took another sip and stared back at her. When he first met her, she had been a wreck, beaten down by her circumstances and wild-eyed. Now he was faced with a cool sort of serenity and quiet self-confidence, despite her tired eyes.

Nero frowned, troubled. He was used to being blunt and blunt he would be. "I don't know if I want to tell a witch."

He expected her to get offended, angry even, but she just shrugged and smiled wryly. "I get how you feel but the truth is, when the dead are involved, a witch is exactly who you want in your corner."

Nero took another gulp of the coffee and absent-mindedly, a big bite of the muffin. It… it was really tasty, actually. "Why's that?" he blurted out, trying to stall for time.

She sighed. "Most witches understand when the dead are restless because they can read the signs and feel it in their bones," she said quietly. "We know how to placate them, most of the time. I have certain added benefits that make it easier for me."

He glanced at her, finishing the muffin off. "What benefits?"

She sipped her coffee and looked out her large iron-wrought window. "Did you ever hear about 'Deep Sight' in the Order? Nah, didn't think so," she continued as he shrugged. "Some people, mostly wiccans, get stuck with… well, I guess you might call it a gift. It's a pain in the ass, honestly. I can see things unseen to most people, even to some supernaturally gifted folk like you or Dante."

Nero cocked his head a bit. "Like what things?"

"Like your wacky aura," she said, making a vague gesture to encompass him. "It's kinda like Dante's in basics but I can tell you're agitated as all hell, it's almost giving me a headache. And before you ask, no, I cannot turn it off."

Nero stared and lowered the mug from his lips. "You… can see the dead? Is that what you mean? And you can tell I'm not… human, just from my frickin' aura?"

"Yes to both. I mean, with you it's not that hard, you got the arm too but essentially, I can tell what everyone is," Tess said with a shrug.

At that moment the cat stretched itself lazily and wormed itself under Nero's yielding arms, lying across his legs unashamedly. Tess huffed at it.

"Really? You're gonna do that?" she told the cat, annoyed.

It turned its head at her and meowed noncommittally.

She shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself."

With that little interlude over and the oddly comforting weight and warmth of the cat in his lap, Nero found his reticence dwindling. If nothing else, since Dante trusted her…

"I… actually have no idea what is really going on. Fortuna is just… there's something really wrong and that's after all that mess with the Order and Sanctus and the Savior…" he trailed off, realizing she may not have had a clue what he was going on about.

He opened his mouth to try and explain but she cut him off gently, waving her hand in a gesture to encourage him to get on with it. "I know the basics about Fortuna. Shit like that travels fast along the wiccan grapevine. Dante's told me a bit too. What have you seen?"

How it all tumbled out of him in the end would puzzle him for a while, but it felt good to just forget about his pride and his issues with witches and his sarcasm and just unburden himself. He only ever talked to Kyrie this freely, but between the coffee, the cat and Tess' calm attention he reluctantly poured out most of the story. She only interrupted his yarn to ask questions related to things that sometimes Nero didn't think were important, like the attitude of animals in the city or if any unexplained disease had broken out among the populace.

"You sound like a doctor," he muttered, taken aback by a blunt question about how he slept.

"Or a dentist? I feel like pulling a tooth here," Tess said and cracked a smile. "Look, I know it's weird but I work differently than you or Dante. Get used to it. I don't go barreling into a situation without knowing what's there."

She sat back in her armchair, after putting her coffee down and crossed her arms. "You're actually describing a pretty serious situation, y'know."

Nero finished off his coffee and put the mug down too. "How so?"

"That the dead are restless after such a massive loss of life is unfortunate but unsurprising. But that they're starting to screw up the living this much, so fast, isn't," she said and ran her fingers through her hair. "And to enter people's dreams is even worse. You, in particular, shouldn't be this affected."

"Why?"

She gestured to his arm. "Your partly demonic nature should be putting them off. The dead, unless they're already being corrupted, don't normally like to hang around demonic powers. You should be harder to affect but you're telling me you had a nightmare that left a physical mark on you. Nero, that's serious shit and I'm glad you just shrugged it off. If it had been your friend it might've been worse."

Nero scowled; it hadn't dawned on him until she threw it in his face. What if it had been Kyrie, indeed? He didn't question that Credo was angry at him even after death but what if that wrath turned to Kyrie next?

"So what's going on? That's what I want to know!"

Tess shook her head. "I can't tell you anything until I see it. There could be a number of reasons for this, which is why I'm going to come with you."

She stood up and headed straight for the curtain between the bookcases.

Nero put the cat on the floor and stood up. "No. It's my problem, I'll deal with it."

He heard a short scoff from beyond the curtain. "You can't, sweetie. Not alone, anyway. You wouldn't know the first thing about dealing with the dead. Besides—"

She emerged, buckling a small, black drop leg bag to her waist. "I do owe you, for Amaro, and I don't like leaving my debts hanging."

Nero felt a sulk sneaking up on his face. Well he couldn't argue that. But he didn't want to team up with anyone, let alone a witch. On the other hand, though, if Tess was right and things were really that bad… above all he wanted to protect Kyrie. He'd accepted his nature as a part-demon to do so. If it meant accepting he had to work with a witch, so be it; couldn't be worse than a demonic arm.

"Fine," he muttered.

"Jeez, don't be so excited, you'll hurt yourself," she chuckled and put on a black pea coat and a pair of thick boots.

He was taken a little aback at her snarky tone but just frowned at her, picking up the Red Queen. Tess bent over the cat, which was standing on the couch with his front paws on the armrest, looking at her and meowing.

"Roy, you just tell Dante to go stick a fork in his eye if you see him," she sighed and rubbed his head.

Roy, huh? Wasn't that the name of…?

"Where's the old dude?" he quipped. "I thought he was your…?"

"He's around, don't worry about him," Tess said and snatched a muffin from a basket in her kitchen then broomed him out the door. "And quit being so wary. I'm going to teach you some tricks about dealing with the dead so you don't have to put up with Dante's shit again, sound good?"

Actually, that sounded like a good deal indeed.

"Hey can I ask you something?" he ventured as she hurried down the stairs.

"Yeah?"

"Why did the old man call you 'Twig'?"

-Hi! If you're reading this as part of a completed work, I have something very important to tell you! 1. THANK YOU! 2. This is your mandatory rest stop. Drink some water, get up, stretch, then go to sleep and come back in the morning. It'll still be here ;)