Chapter ii

Dedication and Denial

She lit the candles before the small shrine, one by one with delicate motions of the hand. Though she could have easily breathed fiery life into the small wicks by use of witchcraft, she preferred the simple use of a long stick lit with flame. Such waste of powers was below her; they were too precious to be wasted on trivial things. She moved along the row of candles and her ceremonial robe let a soft sound as it shuffled. The silver thread reflected the soft light of the candles and made the heavy silver necklace on her neck glisten.

"Bless us, Goddess, as we venture through the world, balancing light and dark, following the ancient, well-worn ways. Keep us safe from the abyss," she muttered softly as she lit the last one, casting a glance to the simple statue of a woman in her prime dressed in a flowing dress, standing in a pious but forbidding pose. The statue's long hair trailed along her shoulders and a necklace identical to the one the woman wore hung on the statue's chest. Her expression was delicate, frozen in a humble, benevolent look, her lips barely smiling.

"Safeguard us from power's temptation, guide us prudently. Blessed you be," she muttered.

The High Priestess put out the small stick she had used to light the candles and crossed her arms over her lap as she gazed at the statue for a while, in contemplation. She wore a dark blue dress with long sleeves and a heavy silver belt around her thighs, its ornate buckle shaped like a pentacle within a circle and a necklace of sterling silver: A thin chain with a crescent worn pointing up, featuring a large, light-gray moonstone gleaming in the middle. A heavy, white cloak with silver and black trimmings and embroidered runes hung from her shoulders, the edges fastened with a large brass buckle just under her collarbone.

She then turned and left the small chapel, pacing through the semi-circular room and opening the double doors at the back. Another woman was waiting for her there.

"Grace with you, High Priestess," she said respectfully, tilting her head in a greeting.

She was younger than the High Priestess, wearing casual clothes, a knee-length brown skirt and a light-colored blouse that accentuated her chestnut hair.

"And with you, Vanessa," the High Priestess said kindly, closing the doors. "Thank you for waiting for me; now let us can go to the Great Hall and talk about what is troubling you."

The two women began walking down the short, stone corridor of the old manor and entered a larger room with a stone altar standing towards its back and a high, vaulted ceiling overhead. As the stepped inside, the High Priestess allowed her gaze to follow the walls, lined with tall, stained glass windows that allowed enough light into the chamber to deny it the need of artificial lighting. The floor they paced over was made of various colors of marble, creating the shape of a large wiccan circle. The pattern repeated itself on the vaulted ceiling over head, where three chandeliers hung, now unlit.

The building, a medieval manor that once housed lords of the city, belonged to an anonymous party, according to papers; in reality it was the sanctuary and gathering place of the Rosengard coven. Unlike the warm and stuffy air of the city, the atmosphere inside was crisp and had an ancient feel to it, even though the building itself had been restored in recent times and overall could not have been older than a few hundred years.

The two women were alone in the large room and the entire building felt empty and silent. They walked up to the back, where a stone bench was built along the wall, to accommodate a lot of people. The rest of the room was empty but for some additional benches built along the far back wall and a large marble altar in the very middle, although the room was obviously used often for congregations rather than some kind of worship. The altar was once the epicenter of an active pagan religion, but now functioned more as a dedication than fulfilling the true purpose of an altar.

"Vanessa, be a dear, give me a hand with this thing," the High Priestess said, her hands coming up to the buckle of her cloak to pry it loose. "And tell me, what developments have we?"

"Yes, your Grace." The brunette helped the older woman remove the ceremonial cloak and folded the large piece of clothing while the High Priestess was removing the heavy belt. "It's him. He's come to the city," she said calmly.

The older woman sighed. "Vanessa, you can call me Regina now, this is not a ceremony and the title makes me feel like an old wreck," she said, a bit impatiently as she removed the belt. "So he has come," she went on, sounding skeptical as the younger woman took the belt from her. "No doubt he'll come directly here."

"So you think he knows?"

"Oh, I'm sure he does," she said, taking her hands to her hair and smoothing out her bun absently. "But she hasn't been honest to me and I am having trouble discerning the truth. I'm certain she has always been well acquainted with him, even though she has never allowed herself to admit it."

"She's protecting him!?" Vanessa gasped.

"Possibly, although I see no reason how a wiccan would be involved with the likes of demons or even him in particular."

"But then, that means that she—she could be in contact with demons even now!"

Regina shook her head. "But she is still 'clean'. No, she has not betrayed the Right Hand Path…yet."

"Will it be trouble? Do you think he wishes to harm us?"

"That will depend on his motives. We are no Order of the Sword. If, by chance, he has been in contact with that alchemist--" she paused. "Yes, it could be troublesome for us all. And she suspects too much and may know more than I expect her to."

"How shall we deal with this, then? Do you have any orders?"

"Nothing at the moment. The sanctuary is well protected. Everyone knows their duty and she has been adequately kept in ignorance. I'd like to deal with the matter myself. Take the robes to my chamber, if you could, please."

"Of course, Regina," the other one said with a nod and carrying the ceremonial robe and belt, left through the door again, leaving the blonde woman alone.

High Priestess Regina let a small sigh and sat on one of the benches, her eyes fixed on the double doors on the other side of the hall. She was expecting him, having sensed his presence for a while in the building. And surely enough, soon she could hear unfamiliar yet confident footsteps down the hall, from the outside and then the double doors swinging open abruptly.

"Please, stop—no, you can't go in there!" sounded the protest of a middle-aged man hurrying after the intruder.

A man in a red coat strode inside, unashamed and nearly arrogant, his dark brown trousers brushing the marble floor gently as his boots tapped the floor at each step. A large sword glistened on his back as he walked, reflecting the light from the windows. He cast a look around, with a slight smirk, surveying the room, examining everything. The room had a feel alike to an old church's, somehow. He found it too quiet for his liking. A thinly built man in his fifties was hobbling after him, his beady eyes looking intimidated and dots of perspiration glistening on his balding head. He looked alarmed and downright intimidated of the man he was trying to ward off.

She studied the stranger as he entered and then spoke up. "You are looking for someone, aren't you?"

The sound of her voice made him stop and then turn around smoothly, his hand reaching behind his back and drawing a white gun, cautiously, although in the end he did not point it at her. The retainer that had tried to stop him looked even more alarmed to see the woman and bowed several times, stuttering apologies. She just nodded with an expression showing she didn't blame him. Then she quietly assured him there was no harm done and asked him to return to his post. The man nodded nervously and retreated from the room in silence.

Dante glanced at the woman; he recognized her from the photographs that had brought him here. Up close she looked more like normal lady. She was middle aged, maybe even a little over fifty, with blond hair and gray eyes. Her hair was pulled back high on her head. Her face was narrow and only faint lines belay her age. Younger she must have been quite a beautiful woman, age having only made her seem more matron-like and respectful. Her outfit was simple, a long black dress with a deep blue bolero jacket with wide sleeves. She wasn't wearing the white cloak and with her hands on her lap, she looked like a very respectful figure, like a nun, with something of a noble lady's air in her appearance. She wore an intricate necklace of silver, shaped like a crescent moon facing upwards, decorated with runes and precious stones.

But Dante wasn't fooled; the photographs had given him the impression that she had less of the piety she showed and he was not oblivious to the sense of her powers. It had been a while since he had sensed pure wiccan powers, but he recalled their feel very well. She evidently made little effort to conceal her status from him, much like Tess' old, wicked grandmother, Magda, did way back when she was alive and seething. He chuckled, spreading his arms in a smooth gesture.

"That's the thing about you witches, no room for surprises!" he said with a smirk.

She returned the smile, amused. "My apologies. I've been watching you since you arrived in the city. Your reputation precedes you and I wanted to be certain of your motives."

That confession of hers made him eye her a little more carefully. He hadn't put his gun away yet and his grip around it tightened. Aware of the suspicion she caused him, she reacted to that motion.

"Don't be quick to judge me. I am responsible for the well-being of the people in this coven; understanding your attitude towards us was necessary," she said sincerely, with a soft voice, shutting her eyes briefly. "Why are you here?" The last sentence was said in a slightly different way, having something to it that spelt she would not take trifling or excuses.

"No beating around the bush, I like that." He scoffed slightly, pacing towards her and to the side a little, replacing the gun in its holster, under his coat. "I'll be brief, lady. I'm looking for someone I've known for a while. Heard she's in trouble, so I'm here to fix that, if needed," he said, pacing lazily, eyes fixed on the woman. "You let me see her, then I'll leave."

The woman smiled wider. "Of course, if you wish to see a friend. I'll do what I can. Whom shall I send for?"

Dante's eyes narrowed briefly. He thought to himself that she seemed to be co-operating a little too easily. From what the guy that brought him there, Ricardo, had said, he expected resistance from the witches. Yet he had little to go by anyway, since the man had never come to meet him and Trish in the meeting point he had said he would be. Leaving Trish to stay on the lookout for him, Dante had gone on ahead to check out the coven, taking a risk in case he could find Tess.

"Her name's Tess Templar. A red-head, likes fire--got an attitude to match too," he said confidently.

The witch seemed to look at him very carefully, her smile lessening. As if the mention of that name had made her skeptical. "I'm afraid you must have made some error. There is no witch here by that name," she said kindly. "Are you sure? Sometimes, wiccans that join us choose to alter their names for a new beginning and cast away their old ones. Perhaps she has done so as well?"

"Why the hell would she change it?" he wondered. "Huh, wouldn't put it past her," he said, putting his hand in his coat's pocket and pulling out one of the pictures. He tossed it to her.

The High Priestess raised her hand and instead of falling by her feet, the photograph floated up quickly into her hand and she looked at the picture. Her face remained unchanged, but something in her look seemed to shift, for a brief moment. She seemed to be more cautious, just beneath.

"Ah, there has been some mistake indeed. This is Celia. However, I doubt she is the person you are looking for."

Dante's eyes narrowed. "There we go…I thought you were making it too easy, lady," he thought, getting frustrated.

"Look, I don't waste my time solving riddles. I know you people aren't saints. That's the girl I came looking for, so better get her here, before my trigger finger starts to itch," he said, his tone hinting a real threat.

She stared at him intently, her smile lessening even more now. "Very well. I will send for her," Regina said, getting up and walking towards one of the doors. It opened as she approached and a younger witch, with brown hair, stepped out.

The High Priestess spoke with the younger witch, Vanessa, for a moment. Vanessa nodded and retreated back into the door. She walked back to the stone bench and sat down again.

"She is coming," she said sweetly. "Of course, I must stay; she needs to answer some questions of my own now. Celia never has mentioned being familiar with the son of Sparda."

Dante's eyes narrowed again, briefly. As expected, this witch knew with whom she was dealing with. The way she spoke at that moment reminded him of Magda again, although this witch was more tactful and reserved in her otherwise obvious wariness about a half-demon. At least Magda had been clear about how she felt; this witch was keeping her cards close.

He scoffed sarcastically, with a faint smile. "Hey, leave my old man out of this."

She only smiled cryptically.

A moment later, the door opened again. Dante looked over, somewhat eagerly. Although the photos he'd seen had somewhat prepared him, he was still stunned for a brief moment, as the woman from the photo walked in. He felt his eyebrows rising up to his forehead and his jaw twitched slightly; he couldn't speak right away, taken by surprise as he was. He nearly failed to recognize her.

Ten years had really done much to change her. Although she remained familiar in many aspects, time had altered her more than it had done him. Her hair was still the same kind of deep red and cut in the same chin-length manner that he remembered her with, but her face looked different. Its lines were quite softer now, her chin still rounded but firm and willful, showing part of that stubbornness he remembered from her. Her mouth was relaxed in a calm expression, contrary to her past manner of pinching her lips together, discontent yet more feminine. Her eyes also maintained a hint of her old defiance and coldness, but now contained a more solemn and haughty, but mature confidence.

She was taller than he remembered and her figure was now finely formed with a medium sized chest, a thin waist with pleasantly wider pelvis with curved thighs. A black, long skirt clung to her perfectly, sporting a purple Celtic weave pattern and two slits on either side allowing her legs to show a bit as she walked. She wore a black strap shirt and a deep purple shirt over it, its neckline draping low to leave her shoulders bare, along with black lace arm-warmers and ashen brown boots. A handsome silk choker was wrapped around her neck with a large silver cross with curved edges attached to it.

As soon as he overcame the initial surprise, he was about to say something to greet her, but her steeled gaze stopped him cold. He'd forgotten how imposing it could be when she wanted it to. She could've stopped a whole demon legion in their tracks. She walked right past him, as if he wasn't there, stopping right in front of the High Priestess. Even though she had shown coldness in the past, there was something vaguely cross and forbidding in her look that made him lose his will to speak. Something about her behavior was just off.

"You wished to see me?" she asked the High Priestess, respectfully.

Dante shrugged, his hands rising slightly above his waistline, palms up, in a displeased gesture. "Well, hello to you too, Twig!" he said sarcastically, quite put off. He never expected her to have abolished her 'shrewish' manners completely, but such a cold shoulder, even in front of the other woman, was truly unlike her.

Unless she wanted to ignore him.

The redhead turned around to face him. For a moment, she seemed conflicted, her eyes not exactly focused, but it was gone before it registered. Her look was calm, even cold. "Do I…know you?" she asked, sounding like she saw him for the first time.

"Celia, this man claims he knows you," the High Priestess said politely. "He says he knows you as 'Tess'. Is this true, child?"

The young woman looked a little confused, looking at him up and down and then back to Regina. "No, High Priestess Regina, I've never seen him before," she stated, with a completely straight face.

Regina gave Dante a perplexed look.

Dante himself scoffed spontaneously, his tone showing that behind his humor, he was puzzled by what he perceived to be acting by her part. He recalled the way she spoke about this coven the last time he saw her. She had mentioned they were dangerous and manipulative—but what could she have to worry about now, when she was all grown up and beyond doubt very well able to just up and leave them. Besides, that is, having him to back her up if necessary. There was little reason for her to pretend not to know him.

"I hate pretending." That's what she had told him ten years ago.

"So what's with her? The hell did these freaks do to her?" he thought, the idea of brainwashing creeping into the corner of his mind.

"Hey, what's the deal, Tess? Forgot me already? It's me, Dante," he said, pointing his thumbs at his face.

She just looked back at him with a blank, curious look. "I know who you are, son of Sparda. I've heard of you, like everyone here," she said, and her defiant tone was unmistakable. "But I don't know you. And my name is not Tess, it never was . It's Celia."

Son of Sparda. Tess had never called him that and she had said she never would. He shook his head, finally losing his smile. "Alright, what the hell are you trying to pull off here, Twig!? I dragged my ass out here for ya, 'cuz some nut called, saying you were in danger—but I get here and you're just playing around!" he said sharply, losing the last of his patience. "I've had enough of this crap, Celia—whatever that name is all about—so start explaining yourself!"

Regina's eyes narrowed very slightly when he mentioned that someone had called him there, but the young woman, facing Dante, never noticed. She just stared at him, a little taken aback from his confrontational attitude. She seemed to be struggling to keep her face straight and unchanged, but appeared to fail a little.

"Get a grip of yourself, pal, I may respect the legacy you carry, but you're starting to piss me off!" she hissed, somewhat surprising him.

"Now that's the Twig I remember," he thought.

The High Priestess intervened at last. "That will be enough!" she said decisively then looked at Dante. "Your reasons may be important but I cannot allow you to harass the wiccans of my coven. Can't you fathom the idea that you may as well have been misinformed?" she said in a determined, but calm tone, placing her hand on Celia's shoulder. "Celia," she added, addressing her.

The redhead looked at her. "Yes?"

"I understand if you are still upset from you previous punishment, but control yourself, child. Do not make me discipline you for disrespect again in such a short time. Let's resolve this. You're sure you've never met him before?"

She seemed to calm down instantly following the woman's indirect threat. "No, never," she replied coolly, turning back to him. "I'm sorry; perhaps your sources are mistaken after all."

"Perhaps indeed," Regina said while looking at Dante, though she didn't sound like she believed it. "I know you well, Celia, you don't lie."

Dante got increasingly frustrated. He was dead certain this was Tess, yet she was playing games with him, looking at him the way she was. She recognized him, all too well and he knew it perfectly just from the look in her eyes, but she refused to admit it. It couldn't be because she feared the older woman; she seemed determined to make him leave, empty-handed.

"Well, if we're done here—" Celia started, about to walk away.

He took hold of her wrist. "Hold it there, Tess, Celia or whatever the hell you're called! I'm not done talking with you—"

"Hey!" she reacted, violently pulling her arm away from him. "Look man, I'm not the chick you're looking for! So suck it up, you got it wrong. Piss off!" she said, storming off past him and out the double doors before he could stop her. That kind of reaction—that was definitely her.

And it still frustrated him.

Regina shook her head. "That's why she's been disciplined," she sighed. "Always the rogue and back-talker. Like a child, sometimes," she went on, crossing her arms and shaking her head sadly. "I suggest you leave her be, Dante. She obviously isn't your old friend. Your sources are mistaken."

Dante stared at her. "Yeah, well my gut says otherwise."

He strode out of the hall and out the double doors, but when he stepped outside she was nowhere in sight. He looked around and realized that he couldn't even feel that presence of hers anymore, or the other witch's. He turned around and saw a blank wall behind him, as if a door had never been there.

He huffed. "Hmph, witches," he muttered, irritated. He stormed off down the hallway towards where he remembered the exit being. He was going to find that redhead and figure out exactly what was going on. "I'm not buying this 'I don't know you' bullshit. That's gotta be her; she always sucked at lying anyway," he thought.

Back in the congregation room, Regina stared at the door she had displaced, making him walk out into the corridor he had come from, but with no way back in. The same would happen to all the doors he went through until he was outside.

"Looks like he will be trouble after all, if you had to use one of the structure's defense mechanisms," Vanessa said, coming out from the smaller door and walking up to her.

"This is going to be a problem after all," Regina agreed sadly. "She's getting beyond control and now that he's gotten here too, it's getting worse, as if things weren't bad enough."

"What do you want us to do?" Vanessa asked, awaiting some kind of order.

Regina looked at her with a somewhat sad look. "I'm quite convinced now. Celia is no longer loyal to us, no matter how much she pretends. She has repeatedly been lying to me," she said, looking skeptical. "Keep an eye on her, for now. But be ready to capture her and bring her before me, if anything happens. Do not let her come in contact with Sparda's son, not until we know for certain what exactly her relationship with him is. "

"What about Ricardo? We still can't find him."

Regina walked past her slowly. "That just confirms my fears. He's involved and quite deeply too. He brought Sparda's son here. Celia knows nothing of his re-appearance in the city. Make sure it stays that way, as far as you're concerned."

"Absolutely. What shall we do with him if we locate him?"

Regina's lips tightened. "What must be done," she said dryly.

"Understood," Vanessa replied, only she didn't sound very certain. "And what of the half-demon?"

"Leave him be. I don't want a disaster alike that of the Order of the Sword to fall upon us. We won't interfere. Should he come to us again, we will defend ourselves, of course…but we cannot afford to incur his wrath."

Outside of the manor, Dante finally strode down the front steps, casting a glance back at the impressive building, frowning at its worn, neoclassical façade and the dark windows. He then turned back around, marching away from it and heading to find Trish. "Maybe she had better luck with that weird guy, Ricardo, or whatever his name was," he thought. "At least he might give me some bloody answers."

He never noticed, however, a figure watching him leave from the rooftop of another building. It was the redhead. She stood against a chimney shaft, concealed in its shadows, watching him intently. She managed to maintain her calm look for only a moment as she watched him walk off. She then let a deep sigh, her face contorting into a look of disappointment and anguish. She turned, leaned against the brick shaft and drew a shaky breath.

"That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do," she thought, bringing her hand over her mouth in regret. "Dammit, Dante. I'm so glad to see you again but why are you here?! You shouldn't have come!"

She cast another glance over as he kept walking down the street, then turned around abruptly and headed back towards the opposite direction, along the rooftop. She had only one thought in mind: getting some answers.

Striding down the street after that confusing scene at the coven's sanctuary, Dante found himself again in the back streets of the city, empty and quiet under the late evening sun. Contrary to the coven building's renewed exterior, the streets he passed now were flanked by poorer, simpler buildings, some even sporting doors nailed shut and vacant. They looked deceptively common and uninteresting, but his trained eye could tell that demons had strolled through the same streets and had been either chased off or simply moved on. That was something he had seen through many parts of the city that he had been through. It was a surefire sign that something was drastically wrong in this city. He was getting close to the square that he had left Trish in, to wait for the alchemist guy. She was still there and walked up to him as he neared. She actually looked rather discontent.

"How'd it go? Did you find her?" she asked. "I could've died of boredom over here."

Dante walked over to meet her, with a rather annoyed sigh. "Found her alright, but she's back to being a shrew to the bone. Wouldn't even admit to knowing me, changed her name… Just couldn't get a word besides a fit out of her."

Trish folded her arms over her chest and chuckled. "Sounds like she gave you a talk-down," she said with a smirk.

Dante grimaced a little. "Hey, she always was like that, and me she liked. Ain't like her not to admit knowing me. No idea what the hell's wrong with her," he said. "But I got a feeling those crackjobs did something to her. What about that guy, Ricardo or whatever—did he show?"

"Not while I've been here," she responded, with a shrug.

"And I am very sorry for that!" a male voice came from an alley opening into the square.

They both looked over, Dante instinctively reaching for his gun and aiming straight to the target's face, but let his arm drop to the side as a thin, unassuming man stepped into the light, squinting his eyes a little at the brighter area.

"And who're you?" Dante scoffed, looking at him up and down.

He wasn't very tall, quite skinny and his overall appearance had a shabby or dignified carelessness to him. He didn't look older than thirty; his pale face was narrow and angular, with a slightly hooked, thin nose with wide nostrils. A pair of oval sight glasses rested on his nose, over sharp, dark brown eyes. His hair was long, down to the shoulder blades, a warm brown and pulled into a messy ponytail, from which long strands escaped and framed his face. He was clean-shaven, but had a very small goatee or 'soul patch' of unshaven facial hair under his lower lip. His clothing was equally unattended to and rather gave away his scholarly nature: dull gray trousers, a white shirt and a loosened black tie with a deep maroon vest.

The man stepped closer to them, a bit hesitantly. "We spoke on the phone, before I was so rudely interrupted by certain…uninvited guests. I am Ricardo De Castro, I asked you to come."

"You sure took your sweet time," Trish said, holding up her arm and letting it drop at her side again in a disdainful gesture.

"Not of my choice, I can assure you," he replied with cool politeness and his accent sounded even more distinctly Portuguese. "I thought I was doing a good job staying out of their radar for the past year and a half, but it appears that the coven's finally caught up with me. They interrupted my call and haven't quite stopped snapping at my heels since."

Dante scoffed. "Oh yeah? What'd you do to piss 'em off?"

Now it was Ricardo's turn to scoff, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "I'm guilty of doubting the High Priestess' reason," he said, bitterly. "What can I say; having an opinion of your own can be a bad habit around here."

Trish chuckled. "Well, don't they sound like a pleasant bunch?"

Ricardo smirked. "You have no idea. The fools are marching to their own ruin, collapsing under their own corruption—not by demons necessarily," he explained. "They claim to be gathering wiccans under a common authority to protect each other, supposedly. But in this age, who besides demons hunts witches? It's ridiculous. Losing their principals, outgrowing their purpose and doing all they can to not admit it, including trying to regulate their own people's minds."

"That's why Tess is acting like she doesn't know me? Bad attitude?" Dante ventured, irritated.

Ricardo looked a little alarmed. "You've seen her?" he gasped slightly. "Is she—is she alright? Have they hurt her?"

"She looked fine—physically. She wouldn't admit to recognizing me though, wouldn't even admit to her own name, claimed her name was Celia or whatever the hell that's supposed to mean—"

"You saw her! Was this within the coven grounds? In anyone's presence?!" Ricardo asked sharply, looking really distressed at the sound of that, fidgeting nervously.

Dante looked back at him, exchanged a short glance with Trish before admitting. Ricardo's reaction let him know he just might have made a very bad mistake. "Well, yeah, that's where you said she was; there was this old lady there…Regina, or something."

Ricardo groaned, bringing his hand to his face. "The High Priestess! God, this is the worst case scenario!" he said, breathing out heavily. "You've exposed her now! No one in that coven was supposed to know her true name! That—that hypocritical bitch, Regina, no less! Regina has leverage on her now! You must have made her suspicious of Tess; she never told them that she knew you!"

Dante looked back, flabbergast. "What?"

Ricardo huffed. "Tess has been going as Celia forever here, because she never trusted these wiccans! To give your true name away to a wiccan is like giving them power over you! They can use it to cast spells on the individual and Regina is the worst in this lot—she's been trying to get to Tess for some time now. This is not good," he added hurriedly. "If only I hadn't been chased off by those wretches I would have gotten to you in time! This is bad, we've got to locate her—"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a violent coughing fit that he broke into, covering his mouth with his hand and hunching over slightly. Dante's eyebrow raised a little and Trish glance from Ricardo to him, as they noticed blood seeping through Ricardo's fingers, while the man pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth until his coughing subsided. When he removed it, it too was bloody and he wiped his hand with it.

"Dammit, curse it all," Ricardo muttered, looking at Dante and Trish warily and then away, in shame. "My apologies. This is why I can't help Tess on my own. Unfortunately, I recently began to suffer from tuberculosis and if I get too stressed--this happens. It…makes me quite useless."

Dante just huffed a bit. "So let me get this straight…she's in trouble because she doesn't wanna play with the rules of these nutcases? How's that getting her killed?"

Ricardo shook his head. "No. There is some actual merit to the coven's suspicions of her. You must have noticed, there is quite a lot of demonic activity in the city and the coven has been affected by it. Members of the coven have been killed and in some cases, it seems that a wiccan was involved. Tess is suspected; they're calling her a heretic, that she's not obeying the coven creed."

"They think she killed them?" Dante said, folding his arms over his chest.

"Not necessarily," Ricardo admitted, shaking his head. "But her choices seem suspicious and they think she's been in contact with demons. And to be honest, I'm afraid that might be the case."

Dante glared at him. "What?!"

"Not by choice, mind you. Tess was always insubordinate and very critical of the creed, but she's not a rogue and she usually has good reasons for her choices. I'm afraid someone must be manipulating her and she has no way of escaping," Ricardo explained.

Dante huffed. "Great. It's almost typical of her to get into that kind of mess."

Trish looked from Dante to Ricardo. "What'll they do to her if they get her?"

Ricardo looked very distressed when he replied, "The creed demands she be put on trial, but as things are now, it's only going to be a farce; an excuse of a trial, just to get her executed."

Dante could feel his frustration peaking, at that explanation, but kept it under a lid of easy-going indignation. "What about Roy? What's he thinking? I thought the old bat said he was gonna look out for her."

Ricardo shook his head again. "No one's seen Tess' familiar for four years now. He simply disappeared from the face of the earth. The coven was always rather difficult about him, thinking he was too powerful and might want to overwhelm them, but he was loyal to Tess. Four years ago he just vanished; Tess and I were unable to locate him. I have no idea what's become of him."

Dante tilt his head to the side, a little awkwardly, glancing at Trish. He knew the old familiar enough to know he was a very tough nut, despite his apparent diminutive stature and advanced age. Roy was a powerful djinn in its primes under his sagely guise and Dante had seen him survive a terrible demon's attack once before, losing one eye, only to leap back into action mere minutes later. So Roy simply disappearing meant something had gone horribly wrong.

Trish just shrugged. "You know what? I think we should find this friend of yours. If things are as bad as you say, she's the likely target. Besides, don't you want answers? Ask her."

"Yeah, might work if she's not around those nutjobs," Dante agreed. "Any idea where to start?" he added, directed to Ricardo.

"It's unlikely that she'd be at the coven after this, but I know of a few places she's likely to go to; the only way to cover them in a short time is to split up," Ricardo said, pulling up a map of the city from his pocket. "I may not be fit to battle, but I certainly know this city well. Try the gypsy quarter to the south and the old section of the city, northwest. She likes the seclusion of the library there. I'll be heading towards the coven's district to confuse them and keep them out of our hair; I can move unnoticed around there easily. Keep in mind; she's a capable witch, if she wants to be unseen she will stay that way. It's important you keep your eyes open."

"I'm taking that library then. I'll meet you back here later," Trish said, glancing at Dante, who nodded. She turned and headed off, strolling confidently along.

"Hey, wait a sec four-eyes, I got one last question for ya," Dante said, stopping Ricardo who was taking off for his search.

"Yes?"

"You didn't tell me; how do you know Tess?"

Ricardo looked at him with an uncomfortable expression, rather warily, then said something that hit Dante's chest like a hammer: "Because…because Tess and I are very close. We're engaged."