I: Spectacle
"Do you mind telling me just how the hell you got ran over by a car again, Felici?" Lovino seethed angrily as he glared at his younger brother mercilessly. Unfortunately, Feliciano didn't so much bat an eye at his brother's reaction. He only continued to smile that dopey grin of his while floating three damn inches off the floor of his mutt-infested apartment in Rome. It smelt like wet dog, and the older Vargas brother was pretty damn happy that he moved out as soon as he did. If he hadn't, Lovino was sure that it would end up becoming some sort of doggy shelter for the werewolves that moved into the apartment in one way or another, marking it as part of their territory in Italy, with how the Kerberos bastards kept visiting Feliciano.
Still, that wasn't the problem at the moment. It was more important that they work through Feliciano's current... circumstances... even though the idiot brother didn't seem to be taking this very seriously at all. Perhaps he wasn't aware of the gravity of the situation, but, nevertheless, it didn't make the issue at hand any smaller. Lovino clicked his tongue in blatant disapproval of his younger brother's behaviour and crossed his arms, slightly unnerved by the fact that his brother was now hovering over his head. It really shouldn't bother him because strange things have been happening to him all the time for a little over seven years now, but it really did bother him—a lot actually—from time to time—especially in situations like this.
"Ve, it was a cold winter's day when it all started," Feliciano began merrily as he swam through the apartment in mid-air. Lovino fought the urge to whack his brother upside the head as well as the urge to strangle his brother by the neck. The first time he tried that upon seeing him in this form, Lovino phased right through his younger brother. Feliciano then laid on his back, floating aimlessly in the atmosphere, as he recounted his story, "I was shopping for groceries, ve, and then I saw a cute little kitty named Pookie—well, I named her Pookie—and felt so bad that she was all alone in the cold."
"It's not that cold in Rome, dammit," Lovino grumbled under his breath as he glared at his little brother. At his brother's comment, Feliciano bolted upright and pouted childishly at Lovino. Now in a sitting position, Feliciano hovered closer to Lovino, throwing his arms in the air, flailing about, and gesticulating as often as he could to get his point across.
"Ve, but it was cold enough that Pookie was shivering, Fratello! Anyway, I tried taking her home with me, but Ludwig said that the apartment didn't allow pets. He kind of looked funny about the whole thing though, honestly. Gilbert started reacting weirdly to the Pookie, too, so I had to find Pookie a new home. I was going to ask Kiku to take care of Pookie, but then Pookie jumped out of my arms and into the road. I tried chasing after Pookie, but then there was a really loud honk. When I turned my head, I was staring into headlights, Fratello!" He sighed, the exhale coming out as a weak "Ve..." and stared at the ground. "I was in a white room for a while, talking to a really nice voice about your and Arthur's wedding. The next thing I knew, you were already done with the funeral yesterday."
Damn, Lovino really needed to sit down. This was all too much for him. Collapsing onto the sofa without questioning if it had been infested with fleas, Lovino buried his head within his hands. "Good God," he muttered, "all of this for a cat?"
Only three weeks ago, Lovino had received a call after returning from an important meeting regarding the stability of Hell with his lover from the hospital to be asked to identify his brother's body. He had immediately dialled one of his employees to inform them that he wouldn't be dropping by the café that day and left management temporarily to one of his more serious part-timers, a young college student named Luce, for the hospital with Arthur, where the two of them had met with his cousin Antonio. Both Arthur and Antonio had tried to calm him down—but to no avail. Feliciano and Antonio were his only family after an uprising in their household seven years ago that had ended up with the eradication of an entire Mafia family. Honestly, he didn't know what he would have done with his brother dead, losing his life to—evidently—save a damn cat that was now pissing all over the carpet because it wasn't potty-trained. Instead, he had underwent the motions of planning a funeral for his little brother—at least the body by the looks of it now—and put all wedding plans to a halt with Arthur's understanding along with everyone else who was looking forward to a ceremonious event. However, only a few moments ago, when he returned to his old apartment—now, as mentioned before, infested with werewolves—to pick up Feliciano's belongings and to pack them up and put them away, he had discovered Feliciano's... ghost, maybe? Lovino didn't know what Feliciano was at the moment, and now that his obviously dead brother was floating in front of him, Lovino really didn't know what to do any more either. He was once again at a complete loss.
"Fratello?"
"Who else can see you?" Lovino demanded grumpily.
"Uh... So far," he began recalling whom he had encountered in the last few hours, "Just you—and Pookie, of course!" Upon the mention of her new name, the little brown cat meowed. Lovino felt his eye twitch with indiscreet irritation. He didn't even bother to hide it.
"Can you leave this damn apartment?" Lovino asked in a rather vitriolic and seething manner. He really didn't have the patience for this shit. It seemed that Feliciano hadn't even realised that he was dead, or maybe he had but was feigning innocence or some really stupid shit that was driving Lovino up the damn wall. When Feliciano gave a short nod of his head after a moment's contemplation, the older Vargas brother inclined his head to the door. "Then follow me, dammit! We don't have time to waste!"
"Where are we going?" Feliciano asked curiously as he glided behind his brother, watching as Lovino unlocked the door. Feliciano trailed after his brother and waited patiently for his brother to lock the door with his old—and now useless since he could phase right through everything—key.
"To someone who can fix this mess, dammit," Lovino grunted.
"Like who?"
"Like Arthur! I don't know!"
"Artù?" Feliciano repeated inquisitively, following Lovino as the older Vargas stomped angrily down the pavement. Civilians and tourists alike moved away from the seething brunet upon sensing his foul mood and temper. "Ve, what can your fidanzato do? I mean, he's smart—super smart—but I don't know, Fratello. I don't think there's any science behind this."
"Chigi, no shit, idiota!" Lovino shrieked, earning himself a few curious and frightened stares of onlookers who couldn't see his dead brother. He felt heat surge to his cheeks, reddening them with shame and embarrassment, before he dropped his gaze to the ground, muttering under his breath, "Of course, there's no science behind this—any of this—but Arthur knows everything there is to know about crap like this. Just shut up and trust your fratellone, Felici."
Although his pleas were too soft to be heard, Feliciano could make out the most of it, and, more importantly, he could definitely sense the fact that his brother was distressed. Despite the fact that Feliciano had trouble "reading the atmosphere," he was especially sensitive to a person's depressive mood. For Lovino to feel this way—especially when his wedding date, if it wasn't postponed, was so close—particularly struck a chord of despair within Feliciano. Together, the two of them sulked in the direction of Arthur's apartment. Feliciano waited for his brother to open the door before following after him even though he could have easily passed through the walls of the apartment.
The two of them were immediately confronted with the sight of Arthur fiddling with a carving knife and an unfinished toy soldier. On the floor of the living room, Alfred and Matthew were fighting a war with blue coated soldiers against Neeraja and Jia Long and their red army while Angelique was building a colourful tower out of cubed blocks for the damsel in distress. Kiku remained in the background with his ears and all nine of his tails out, cleaning one of Alfred's dirtied jackets caked with mud and grass stains. Upon sighting Lovino, the children beamed and instantaneously huddled around the Italian, chirping about how their day had gone all at once and chiming about what they would like for dinner. Lovino greeted them with a weak smile, and Feliciano noticed how much gentler Lovino behaved around children. He mused with a smile that he was glad Lovino was marrying into this family.
Kiku, sensing the solemn atmosphere with which the two brothers had entered the manor, escorted the children outside to play under the Roman sun after bundling them into their winter coats. Lovino gave Kiku a curt nod of appreciation, grimacing at the realisation that he was quite easy to read, before shyly meeting Arthur's curious gaze. "It looks like a lot has happened," Arthur remarked pointedly as he cast Feliciano a brief glance that the younger Vargas brother had missed entirely. "How long has he been around?"
"Dammit," Lovino grunted indignantly as he stomped angrily towards his lover. He sunk into the spot next to him on the sofa but kept a decent amount of space between them since his dead brother was watching them. "I don't know! Maybe just yesterday! I only encountered him a few hours ago, and it still doesn't make sense to me!"
"Ve... Fratello, are you talking about me?" Feliciano queried innocently as he floated towards his older brother, peering at Arthur curiously as the blond contemplated something. His green eyes appeared distant, but in Feliciano's opinion, Arthur always looked pretty spacey. It was like he was never really on Earth.
"Who else would I be talking about, dammit?!" Lovino snapped at Feliciano. He wasn't angry or pissed off in anyway, actually, only frustrated, and frustration often led to aggression. There was no other options for Lovino to vent his anger, and if he had to choose between yelling at Feliciano and Arthur, the older Italian would most definitely choose Feliciano in a heartbeat. After all, his brother was—as proven by current circumstances—an idiot, and Arthur could most likely help him only if he was in an agreeable mood. His British lover had a temperament just like him, but the only difference was that Arthur was much stronger and more powerful. His threats were thereby more menacing than anything Lovino could dish out.
"This could be pretty bad then," Arthur spoke up suddenly, regaining the attention of the Vargas brothers.
"W-What are you talking about, bastard?"
"I'm saying that Feliciano might have a regret chaining him to this world, and unless someone resolves it, then he cannot pass onto his next life," Arthur explained nonchalantly, crossing his arms, although his emeralds noticeably darkened with concern. This was, after all, his lover's only immediate family. Having just lost Feliciano, Lovino had been extremely depressed in the past three weeks, and Arthur absolutely loathed seeing his beloved spitfire in such a state. "He'll be trapped on Earth with only the Otherside for company, and that's dangerous as well, considering two factors. One would be that demons sometimes feed on ghosts seeing that they're disembodied souls."
"What..." Lovino faltered, fearing the worst, before he gulped and swallowed his hesitation, pushing it to the back of his mind. He brought himself to speak again, "What's the second factor?"
"Exorcists," Arthur answered shortly. "You see them all the time on the telly or in films, but they really do exist. Each one has a different reason for exorcising ghosts, but the consequences converge either way. If Feliciano cannot pass onto his next life, they will erase your brother's existence—just as they've done with the weaker, lower daemons." Arthur turned his head, locking his eyes together with Feliciano. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Lovino paled noticeably, and even Feliciano managed to process that bit of information with disbelief and incredulity. He sunk to the floor as though his limbs were actually touching the wooden surface in a position that had suggested he had collapsed to his knees. Had he a physical body, his eyes would have watered with tears but they were simply enlarged now and filled with terror. The older Vargas brother noticed for the first time the faint crimson tinge in Feliciano's now translucent eyes. Just as he phased through most material objects, his complexion—no, his entire being—was transparent.
"I'll... disappear?"
"Essentially," Arthur responded brusquely, "if we do not intervene or if you do not take charge in matters regarding your fate." He set aside his carving knife and his project to stand in front of Feliciano. Feeling a shadow fall over him, the young man raised his head, and his amber eyes met with a pair of emeralds somewhat acidic in colour. "What will you do?"
"I... I just want to see Fratello marry," Feliciano confessed sheepishly as he continued staring into Arthur's endless emerald pools. They were like the abyss, and Feliciano was drowning in them with fear and apprehension. "That's all I ever wanted! He's always looked so happy with you, Artù! I don't know what these 'regrets' are that are keeping me here, but, really, that's all I want!"
"Then listen to me carefully, lad," Arthur requested of the Italian boy as he knelt on the wooden floor. "It is very dangerous for you to be here now. There has been a new evil from the depths of Hell lurking in the shadows, and I believe he has been hiding in my home in London. I was considering on returning to London sometime this week with Lovino after we stored your belongings in the attic. You may believe that you are safe here in Rome, but with the Vatican so close by, it is unlikely that this is the safest place for you here. Your chances of becoming exorcised are much greater here than in England. If you come with us to London, we can help you ascend to Heaven. If you are scared to venture out of Italy, then you can stay here, and I will arrange for someone to help you."
Feliciano didn't even need a second to consider and weigh his options. He reached for the sleeve of Arthur's blazer, only for his grasp to slip through Arthur's physical body entirely. He whined, croaking out a desperate, "Don't leave me all alone! I want to go with you and Fratello! I don't want to be alone!" No tears slipped from his eyes of amber blended with liquid crimson, but there was a faint glimmer of particles of white light rolling down his phantasmal cheeks. Mortification struck Lovino as he realised once again that his brother was no longer alive. He wanted to wail and to sob, to curse God for this situation, for condemning his innocent little brother, but Feliciano was already bawling tearless cries like the spectre he now was. The lights in the house flickered and flashed like lightning, and the pots and pans in the kitchen whirled around like a storm, echoing like thunder, as Feliciano screeched and shrieked and shrilled and sobbed. Neither Arthur nor Lovino could reach towards him and comfort him.
After all, they could not touch him.
Instead, they waited for him to calm himself until Arthur stood and walked towards the front door, muttering something about changing their location. Only a few moments later, a flash of light burst through the windows, signalling a change in scenery, and Arthur returned to the living room and told them that he would need to contact the Council. With that, he climbed upstairs and left the two brothers to themselves to discuss anything of relative importance.
"Ve... How is it that we are in Inghilterra already?" Feliciano mused as he stuck his head out of the window to peer curiously at his new surroundings. It would have been more accurate to say that he stuck his head through the window glass though. Lovino reclined on the sofa as his fiancé locked himself in the bathroom to use the mirror to communicate with the Otherside—or, rather, the Underworld—in order to reach his comrades. "Fratello, what is Artù? How come he knows so much?" Feliciano turned to face his brother, blinking his amber and crimson eyes owlishly, as he asked that question with nothing more than inquisitiveness in his features. "You've been seeing him for almost four years now, but you never told me what he does or how you met him, ve." His eyes dropped to the floor as a sudden realisation hit him, and a storm of disappointment and dismay washed over his transparent features. "Did you not trust me?"
"It's not that I didn't trust you, dammit," Lovino grunted as he crossed his arms. "You just never asked. I didn't think you would want to know, idiota." He ignored the fact that it would have been normal for a person to introduce their fiancé to their family properly. Arthur simply walked into their lives, and Lovino expected Feliciano to be okay with his presence. For the most part, the younger brother accepted Arthur easily enough even though he did question how the blond managed to travel between Rome and London without any difficulties each and every day. Well, Lovino supposed now he knew that Arthur had teleportation abilities as well. "Besides, every time he came to visit or every time you came to visit, you just get excited all by yourself, dammit. It makes it hard to say anything."
"Oh, sì, that is true, too, ve..." Feliciano muttered under his breath as he crossed his legs, hovering in mid-air. "So will you tell me now? I'll listen this time, I promise!"
"Just... don't freak out," Lovino pleaded weakly, grimacing at the aspect of having to divulge the truth to his little brother. It goes without saying that Feliciano had always been the more devout of the two of them even though he was the artist who accepted everything as it is. Feliciano was open-minded though, but Lovino questioned if his younger brother could accept Arthur's occupation as it is even after everything that's happened. "Arthur is... He's... Well... Damn." Okay, maybe this was harder than he had originally thought.
"Ve... Since he knows about magic, is he a magician? Like a witch?"
"He's not a witch, you idiot. There's a difference between a witch and a sorcerer. Witches and warlocks make deals with the Devil, and mages like sorcerers and enchantresses are just born with magic," Lovino explained automatically. He had that information drilled into him by the end of his first adventure with Arthur and the others. The older Italian grunted when he realised that they had wandered slightly off-topic. "That's not what I meant though, dammit. Arthur is... He's... He's a king."
"A king? Like of a country, ve? That's amazing!"
"Not quite, but yeah," Lovino mumbled as his eyes darted about the room, wondering how to explain this to his little brother. "He's not the king of a country. He's king of a realm. Do... Do you remember how you've learnt about Heaven and Hell and all of that?"
"Not really, ve! Why?"
"Well, Arthur is King of the Underworld," Lovino blurted out quickly, simply wanting to get this over and done. He dropped his eyes to the floor, fidgeting with the seams of his jacket. "He rules over daemons of the darkness—like vampires and werewolves and revenants—oh, which are like zombies—and familiars and succubi and incubi and other demons. Are you following—ah! Felici?" He tried calling to his brother, who appeared to be staring past Lovino at this point. "Feliciano? Hey! Are you even listening to me, dammit? I'm trying to tell you that Arthur isn't really human!"
Feliciano snapped back to reality and blurted out with distress prominent in his eyes, "Fratello, you're getting married to the devil?" They dared to glisten once more with white particles of light brimming at the edge like droplets of tears. "How could you?! Are you abandoning—?"
"Feliciano!" Lovino snapped angrily as vengeance and bitterness and indignation built within his body. He would not have anyone degrade his angelo prezioso, and that included his own brother. Arthur was not a bad man, and he was not evil. Moreover, Lovino had to make Feliciano understand this. "It's a long story, Feliciano, but will you listen to me? I didn't abandon anyone—not you, not Nonno, not our parents, and not even God, okay?" He raked his hand through his brown tresses as he scoured his mind for the right words. In the end, he simply rambled, attempting to convey his feelings, since he had never been the best at being honest about what he felt and thought, "I just fell in love, and I didn't fall in love with just anyone. I didn't fall in love with the wrong guy either, okay? Just hear me out, all right? Arthur isn't evil. He's not what people make him out to be. He's the Devil, but he's not cruel or sick or insane. He's not any of that. He's fair and good and kind. You know him, for God's sake!
"How many times have you greeted him? How many times have you spoken with him? How long have you known him? We've been together for a little more than three years, right? We knew each other for more than that—longer, actually. Arthur and I—our history—goes back seven years—to the time of the uproar in la Famiglia Divina. Felici, he's the one who saved us. He's helped us all that time seven years ago.
"That tomato bastard and I were refugees, and he took his into his house and under his wing. He didn't force us to do anything. Actually, he didn't do a damn thing to us, and he listened to all of our requests. It was part of a deal he had with Nonno—yes, Nonno knew him, too. Arthur only wanted to protect us. He saved us, Feliciano! He helped us get you out of that damn prison, and he saved that bastard Valentino from committing any more sins! He helped us get your soul back, and he stopped his uncle from coming after us! Feliciano, you have to understand! Please, please understand! He's not Satan!"
Feliciano shook his head as white particles rolled down his cheeks once again that day. "I don't understand, Fratello! What are you saying? Has everything we've learnt and has everything we've believed in all been lies?" the younger brunet cried. Again, the lights downstairs flickered, and Arthur's television immediately turned on, playing only white noise, as Feliciano grew hysteric. "I don't understand a thing! Seven years ago? What happened seven years ago? I don't remember anything from back then either! There were bad people, and then they disappeared! You're telling me that was Artù's doing? Then isn't he a bad guy, too? He killed them, didn't he? Isn't killing people bad?"
"Then would you suggest living under a rock and in the shadows for the rest of our lives?!" Lovino retorted.
"At least everyone would still be alive!"
"But would they be happy? The townspeople would be oppressed under that tyrannical rule, Feliciano! Merchants, farmers, artisans, women, children! All of them! Tell me that if every single one of those bastards were still alive that every single one of the civilians would be happy with them! Isn't it for the greater good?"
"What is good is God and His grace!" Feliciano countered. "You're marrying the Devil, Lovino! Don't you understand that?"
"If I didn't understand anything, I wouldn't be here right now," Lovino muttered under his breath, "and I wouldn't be speaking to you like this. Feliciano, you would have been all alone after trying to save that damn cat. If it wasn't for Arthur, I couldn't even see you. I wouldn't even know you were stuck here in this form. I wouldn't even bother trying to save you because I wouldn't know a damn thing." He buried his face in his hands, attempting to hide his tears, as he grumbled, "I'd be a terrible brother, and I know I am a terrible brother. I've hidden this from you for almost four years. I thought there would be a better way to tell you, but it's too damn late now... Shit. Shit."
"Fratello..." Feliciano murmured softly and weakly as he hovered away from Lovino, gliding towards the wall as he kept his gaze on the floor. "I'm... I need to think. I have to go." With that, Feliciano phased through the wall and soared away from Arthur's English manor. Lovino kept hiding his face, at a loss of what to say and what to do, only to flinch as he heard heavy footsteps pound down the stairs.
"I thought we were going to tell him together."
"Shut the fuck up. I know that, and I know I fucked up, too, dammit, you bastard. Either way, I think he would have had the same reaction. He's always been a little church boy."
Arthur collapsed on the sofa next to Lovino before lightly smacking the back of his lover's head with a heavy tome. "You're a silly little git, you know that, right?" the Briton remarked dryly before dropping the tome onto his lap. "Your brother may be distressed now, but he'll come back to you. That's the kind of person he is. He loves you and only wants the best for you. I can see why he'd be worried about you being the future Prince Consort to the King of the Underworld. It doesn't have the nicest of connotations."
"Like I give a damn about that," Lovino hissed, clenching his fists. "I'll prove all of those bastards wrong. You're not a bad person."
"Luv, you'd be battling with a plethora of generations of misconceptions and falsehoods," Arthur whispered tenderly as he wrapped an arm around Lovino's waist, pulling him closer. "I'm fine. It would be bad for my reputation if the Devil was some soft-hearted twat who makes impractical and impulsive decisions for his beautiful Italian spitfire. You don't have to prove anything to anyone. All that matters is that you're mine." Lovino angled his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Arthur's reddening cheeks before smiling to himself.
"Bastard," he grunted, pursing his lips together to hide that smile daring to creep onto his visage, "my fratellino matters though. He's the only one I have."
"Of course," Arthur conceded, "that's why I'll help you bring him home."
"To Heaven? He only deserves the best, you know? That idiota is a good kid."
"I know, spitfire. I know." Arthur pressed a kiss to his lover's temple. "I made a few calls. London will be a hunting ground for a while, and the entire Council is participating along with a few others. Your little brother will be protected while we're here. I'm sorry to have to do this before our big day."
"It's fine," Lovino assured shortly, leaning into the embrace. "You can't help it. It's important, right? Getting that phantom bastard back to Hell?" He stared into Arthur's eyes as they darkened considerably with an emotion he couldn't quite place. Again, there was a storm in those Aegean pools—one of guilt, one of remorse, and one of agony and misery and sorrow—torturing his lover's conscience. "Yao said that it was a black soul? I thought only your brothers and your aunt and cousins had black coloured life essence."
"It's rare for a human to have blue and white souls, yes," Arthur agreed, "but it's even rarer for there to be a black one amongst them. He was probably poisoned by some sort of miasma, some abnormality, which was part of the reason why everyone's so reluctant to extinguish him. Maybe they thought he could have been reborn as a demon, and maybe he thought he could have as well. That would explain—albeit only partially—why he escaped; he couldn't be reborn in Hell. Either way, a fugitive is a fugitive, and we can't have him out there on Earth. There's no other place for him to go."
"You... It sounds like you know him."
Arthur cracked a bitter smile and explained, "He was the first soul I've ever reaped." The blond stood onto his feet and tucked the heavy tome into a messenger bag. "I'll go find Feliciano. Kerberos should already be here, so it'll make things easier. Don't fret your pretty little head, all right, pet?"
Lovino rolled his eyes, biting his tongue, before speaking reluctantly, "Please bring him back safely, Arthur."
"Naturally," the Englishman concurred with a warm smile, "since there's no other option."
Vash Zwingli stepped out of the airport carrying only two bags—one for him and one for his sister—and an empty violin case. He was dressed in his usual army green jacket and his white beret and actually carried no other clothes with him, for he was a minimalist at heart and believed in saving all and any expenses. After all, their hosts would provide him, at the very least, with clothes if not Lili. His sister trailed after him, her delicate feet pattering against the pavement, as her green eyes marvelled at the new sights. She had never been to England before and felt brimming excitement at the chance to practice her English skills. Vash called for a taxicab as Lili admired her new surroundings with a soft smile on her lips.
"Lili!" her brother called out for her after he had finished hauling the luggage inside the back of the taxicab. He held the door leading to the back seat of the car open for her, and the petite blonde shuffled inside of the vehicle, sliding all the way down so that her brother had room to sit as well. Vash slipped into the taxi after her and gave instructions to one of the churches that would be housing them while he was hunting for his latest target.
A black soul... He recalled what the Church had told him. A black soul had slipped past the Gates of Hell and was now lurking somewhere in England according to the abnormal readings of supernatural detectors. Honestly, Vash couldn't place his faith in these machines used to trace extrasensory phenomena, but they were his best bet since he couldn't even see ghosts or otherworldly creatures aside from those disguised as humans—werewolves and vampires and the like. He never got on too well with them either; he was ordered to execute them upon sight, after all. Nevertheless, he never actually did execute them unless he was witness to something terrible—werewolves ripping flesh, vampires draining blood—and although he would never admit it, a part of him understood them. Every creature—good or evil—needed sustenance to live. Frankly, he didn't care if anyone was good or evil though. He just needed to get along for his and Lili's sake.
At the church, the Father and Sisters received them with open arms, arranging for him and Lili beds in the same room. Vash merely tossed their luggage into the room—one that was plain and simple, bare of any furnishings save for those of their Lord and Saviour—before hauling his suitcase onto his bed. The blonde exorcist unlocked the locks of his luggage, unlatched the buckles, and unzipped before propping open the suitcase. He attempted, rather sluggishly and dishearteningly, to brush off Lili's glances of disapproval.
"Bruder, how many more innocent creatures must you kill? They are still creations of one almighty power," she insisted in German. "What if they meant no harm?"
"What if they did?" he retorted smoothly in the same tongue. "We know nothing, Lili. That is why we just need to do as we are told. We can only survive this way. You need to stop making friends with these phantoms of the darkness. Nothing good will come out of it. They can only harm you, Lili." He assembled his arms and placed a rifle within his empty violin case to remain discreet with extra silver bullets. In the pouches of the violin case, he placed a bottle of holy water, a spare cross and rosary with prayer beads, and several pieces of holy scriptures within a worn leather-bound bible. He zipped the violin case shut and slung it onto his back, telling Lili to remain put and never to wander out of the Sisters' sight. He slipped a knife into the pocket of his trousers and hid a pair of handguns in their holsters, covered by his long coat.
Lili watched after him as he left, closing the door behind him, and, although she knew she ought to listen to her brother, followed his example—wanting nothing more to explore her new surroundings. After all, the petite blonde wouldn't wander too far from the church, and she would return within an hour.
In the meanwhile, Vash was wandering down the streets of the City of London. The thick soles of his boots echoed against the stone pavement as his eyes nonchalantly studied his surroundings from the aged buildings to the modern structures. He wandered closely to a religious sculpture that had been fenced to protect the historic piece of art from horseplay and hid his irritation at being surrounded by a group of tourists. His green eyes studied the statue curiously, wondering what laid beyond its material form that unnerved him so, before someone remarked beside him, "It smells of gunpowder. How revolting."
Immediately, he whipped his head to glare at the stranger who had spoken, and his eyes landed on the form of an aristocrat of sorts. He was dressed finely in a designer suit with a pair of expensive frames that magnified his onyx eyes ever so slightly. His dark hair was neatly groomed, and there was even a beauty mark to accent his pale skin. Vash could feel his eyebrow twitch in irritation. Here was someone well-off financially, and it only reminded him of his own circumstances. He couldn't even afford a proper hotel for him and his sister to stay during his trip to England and instead had to rely on others. He hated being a dependant.
Nevertheless, a part of him wondered if this was the stranger who had made the earlier comment. What would a noble know of gunpowder and ammo? He hated being unnerved by this as well, and he hated being paranoid. A part of him wondered if this man was a vampire of sorts, given his elegant and sophisticated countenance, but Vash knew fairly well that those night-walkers could not tolerate daylight.
"Roderich!" a gentle feminine voice called out to someone within the crowd. Only a few people glanced her way as she approached the young elite. She tucked a few strands of brown hair with soft waves behind her ear as she beamed at the young man with nothing but admiration and respect. "Have you found anything?"
"Just an odd statue," Roderich explained to the young woman. She was dressed in a winter dress coloured a dark pink green underneath a wool coat with leggings and a pair of fur-lined brown boots. A pair of earmuffs covered her ears, and Vash was reminded that Christmas was fast-approaching as well. He needed to buy Lili a present. Just as soon as he was about to pull his gaze away from the couple, the young man spoke once more, "Elizaveta dear, don't you think that someone ought to send that spirit to Heaven?"
Her eyes darkened with pity. "Yes, there is no place for the dead in the Realm of the Living, after all. Poor girl," she mused glumly. "Exorcism never guarantees that she will move onto the afterlife or into her next life... If only there was something we can do for her."
"Yes," Roderich agreed shortly. Though instead of looking into her eyes, the brunet was staring into Vash's own, locking their stares together as though he was sending him a challenge. "If only there was a way we can save her. Bless her poor, pitiful soul." With that, he pulled Elizaveta away from the plaza and broke their silent contact. At the same time, the young woman only gave him a short glance, and Vash knew that he had been spotted and that Roderich was the man who had made the previous comment regarding his weapons.
They know.
Vash quickly turned on his heel and attempted to follow them, but they were already gone from his sight. A feeling in his gut alerted him about Lili's well-being, so the blond immediately raced towards the church where they were staying. He hastily greeted the Father and the Sisters before he burst through the doors of the church. Sitting in one of church pews, Vash caught sight of his little sister's blonde hair and blue ribbon. A sigh of relief passed from his lips before he slowed his pace. He marched down the aisle, but Lili hadn't noticed his presence at all. It was only when he approached her that his heart stilled with fear. He froze in his tracks as he realised that she was giggling and speaking with someone he could not see.
"Lili!" he cried, breaking from his initial shock. He lurched forward and snatched her arm, pushing her behind him, as he snapped, "Is it another ghost?"
"B-Bruder!" she exclaimed from the surprise. Her heart pounded in her chest, startled, before grasping his arm. "It's fine, Bruder! He's a nice boy! He wouldn't hurt anyone!"
"He doesn't belong here!" Vash protested.
"You are correct," a cold voice stated from the doorway, speaking in proper Queen's English, enunciating each and every syllable crystal clearly in order to guarantee that he had been understood. "He is a lost soul, and he does not belong here on Earth. However, it is my responsibility to oversee his passing. I will send him to Heaven myself. If you will, stand back and step away from him."
Vash turned his attention to the door and found a young man of average height and mousy blond hair, unruly and dishevelled, standing at the threshold as though he didn't dare to enter the church. He wore a black button shirt buttoned loosely underneath a dark winter trench coat with a pair of slacks and black combat boots that laced all the way to his knees. His ears were pierced numerous times, but the one earring that had stood out to Vash was the upside-down cross dangling from his ear. His emerald eyes were sharpened and narrowed in a piercing, menacing glare that could have possibly lacerated flesh and carved wounds, and Vash simply knew that this devil in front of him was more dangerous than the ghost with which his sister had spoken.
"Who are you?" Vash demanded of the newcomer.
"I could ask the same about you, but, frankly, I am not at all interested," the stranger retorted, crossing his arms. His green eyes strayed to the side, and Vash took that split second to grab one of his handguns and firing a bullet to graze the side of his face as a warning shot. However, before the bullet could even penetrate anything, it froze in mid-air just as it nearly carved through the man's flesh. He arched an eyebrow, plucking the bullet from its position, and hurled it towards Vash. However, instead of striking the younger male, the bullet pierced through the wooden surface of the church pew. "It is not quite proper to be battling in the House of God, is it now? I would advise you stop for innumerable reasons, Mr Exorcist. It is not wise to pick a fight with me of all people." His eyes once again strayed to the side, and Vash realised then that he was staring at the ghost that had contact with his sister. "Feliciano," he addressed the phantom, "your brother is worried. Let's go home. We have some guests who would like to speak with you."
Vash thought he heard someone whisper weakly.
"Yes, guests," the blond at the threshold of the church confirmed to the invisible entity. "They're your friends, Feliciano, and so I am. I assure you that no harm will be done to you." He smiled amiably, both surprising and irritating Vash with his change in demeanour. It was as though the exorcist's presence was microscopic, minuscule, and entirely insignificant—like he was only an insect that could easily be brushed off someone's shoulder. "Come along, Feliciano."
He waited a few seconds before turning on his heel and nearly closing the door behind him until Vash spoke, calling him out, "Magician! What was your purpose in coming here?"
"I only came to fetch my brother-in-law," the magician answered vaguely. "Rest assured, I want nothing to do with you, good sir. May you and your sister have a good day."
Vash grounded his teeth, displeased with his answer, and grasped the door. However, he froze immediately when he noticed the charred wooden surface from where the older man had opened and touched the door. A flood of dread filled him before completely overflowing with terror and mortification.
He's a demon.
A/N: I took the liberty to adding new characters into this story. Vash just seems suitable for the role of an exorcist who believes himself more like a mercenary for hire. It felt more comfortable than making up another OC to fill the slot. Older characters will make short appearances or cameos since this story is more central to Arthur, Lovino, and their family.
Sympathy for the Bridegroom also takes place in December whereas Sympathy for the Devil occurred in the summer. The funny thing is that Bridegroom was written during late-spring and early summer whilst Devil was written during winter. The setting simply suits it more though; you can even think of the seasonal setting as a sort of symbolism.
At any rate, thank you to all of those who have reviewed, followed, or added this story to their favourites already! I'm not comfortable writing a sequel, so please bear with me if the posting is extremely irregular!