Eva is here to fight some boys.


Nero was more like his father than either of them would have cared to admit. I could see it in the way the conniving little kid put a bit more icing on one cinnamon roll than the rest and snatched it from the tray for himself. "They're done, Evie," he said before licking a stray bit of icing from his thumb.

He could be too smart for his own good, just like Vergil.

"You never told me how your day went yesterday," I said as he hopped down from the stool he needed to reach the counter and darted toward the dining room table. "Did you have fun? Did Dante behave?"

He took his time settling into his chair, gaze stuck on the ticking grandfather clock in the corner. A smile broke out across his face like a rubber band stretched to the point of tearing. "Yeah, I had a lot of fun. Uncle Dante's the best. I was on the motorcycle, and I won the game with the monsters. Have you ever had a big pretzel? They're so good! And corn dogs! Uncle Dante said you say bad words sometimes." When he shoved a bite of the cinnamon roll into his mouth, I had to remind him not to talk with food in his mouth so he wouldn't keep rambling between chews.

Nero could be animated when he was up for talking, waving his hands in broad gestures and laughing after each, "But I wasn't supposed to tell you that." His eyes were heavy, though. A bite of exhaustion ate away at his bright demeanor. He must not have slept well. While he may have been able to hide it from anyone else, I'd seen that ploy one too many times.

Too smart for his own good, just like his father.

When I joined him at the table, that didn't stop him from yelling loud enough that it echoed through the room. "I met kids at the park, but they were mean. I didn't like them."

"Why were they mean?" I asked.

He stuffed the last of the cinnamon roll in his mouth, which silenced him for several seconds but didn't take away the pout that sank into his features. "They were just mean," he concluded, tossing up his hands with all his sticky fingers.

As he grumbled and growled more than any actual demon I'd ever met, I snatched a hand out of the air and scrubbed it clean with a napkin. "Kids are like that sometimes," I said. "Adults too. Some people just aren't nice."

Nero was possibly the angriest child I'd ever met, even more so than Vergil, but Nero was a sensitive little thing too, so I let him change the topic away from the kids and go back to raving about the food. Dante sure had let the kid eat a lot of junk.

I wished Nero could have met some friends for once, even if only for a few minutes at the park. As far as I could tell, he'd never had a real one. Children could be difficult with anyone who looked different, but Nero was still just as silly and rambunctious as any other child. He needed someone to help him burn off all that excess energy. I couldn't quite keep up with him like I could when it had been my kids twenty years ago. The closest he had to a friend his age was Dante, and well, the less said about that, the better.

Nero's birthday was next month, his third one with us. Looked like it would be another year of just the five of us together. We'd never even taken him anywhere fun before, so I'd need to look into trying someplace more exciting for him than the house. Still probably wouldn't be much fun without other kids around.

Anything would be better than his sixth birthday. We had to pick a day for him because the papers Vergil brought home tucked under one arm had no date listed. The section was blank.

"I suppose he would have been born around this time," Vergil had said when I pestered him about it. He looked like he would have rather fallen on his own sword than speak on anything close to the topic. "Unless he was… premature, yes, it would have been this month or next, most likely."

"Guess we'd better get a cake," Dante said, trying to find one of his usual grins. It was more an awkward tug at the corner of his mouth.

Everything was awkward for a while there.

I asked Nero if he wanted to pick his birthday, but he shook his head. He didn't say much back then. I'd find him under the covers of his bed, a moody ball, sleepless from nightmares and waking fears.

"What's the matter, Nero?" I asked one day when he refused to leave his room to get breakfast. "What's scaring you? I can go with you anywhere to help."

"Monsters," he said. "S'posed to be safe."

"Monsters? Where?" I crouched down to his level until he felt safe enough to crawl out from under the blankets and point to the wall across the room. Vergil's room was on the other side.

"Big monster's not here." He must have meant Sparda.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Ah, right, my husband, the big monster. So they're scary to you, huh?"

His gaze sank low as he nodded.

With a sigh, I offered him my hand. He took it, small fingers curling into mine. "They might seem scary, but they're not going to hurt you," I said. "They're here to protect you. We all are. Monsters aren't always bad."

My little pep talks didn't do much when Vergil kept glowering the whole day we attempted the party. Nero was glued to my side the entire time, his eyes flashing toward everyone else in distrust. He was so tense that I was waiting to see him snap like a cord. Even when he ate his cake, he kept an eye on the boys.

Sparda and Dante were in their usual good spirits, and I talked along with them to keep some noise going in the echoing house. Nero stayed as silent and furious as his father. Every time Nero glared at Dante or Sparda instead of him, I found Vergil's eyes burning a hole in the side of the kid's head. Not a good look for helping Nero warm up to him. Dante kept complaining about how Vergil was never any fun at parties and at one point smacked a hand to his brother's shoulder. "Quit glaring at the kid," Dante said, his eyes a shade darker than his playful smile wanted to let on. "Just because he won't snuggle up to you, and you're all jealous-"

Though I didn't feel anything, Nero pressed himself closer to my side, and Sparda made a soft hum in disapproval. I had to guess it was demonic power of some sort. The boys did love to flex their muscles when they set each other off, some sort of instinctual attempt at intimidation. "Enough, Dante," Vergil snapped.

Nero leaned himself so close that I was starting to fall over. With Dante's smile twisting toward a snarl, I realized he must have jumped into whatever dumb challenge his brother had set. Sparda broke their staring contest with an ear-splitting clap that made Nero jolt.

"Boys," Sparda said with a too-bright smile. "Let's not fight. Today is special, and Nero needs to open his gifts."

Even with Dante and Vergil settled into sulking, Nero was an anxious mess the rest of the night. "No," he snarled every time any of the boys stepped within the barrier he'd imagined around himself. Dante just laughed and rolled his present to Nero's feet. It must have been a ball of some kind, but Dante had tried to wrap it anyway, and the paper was a mess of crinkles.

"No rush, kid," he said with his usual grin as Nero picked his feet up to tuck under himself on the couch. "Your family's a mess, so I don't blame you. I'd hide too."

Nero squished his face against my arm. "Not hiding," he said while hiding.

My husband looked like a kicked puppy as he tried to win Nero's affection with an ever-growing stack of gifts that he'd hidden in the broom closet. He didn't tell me he'd gotten so many, but Nero didn't have anything to start out with, so I couldn't complain too much.

A little complaining would suffice.

None of it enchanted Nero, who kept scowling despite Sparda's best efforts and tearful expression. When the presents ran out, and Nero still hadn't touched one of them, Sparda slinked off to the corner to wallow in his misery for a bit. He would later claim he was just giving the kid space, but I knew better. For all his fighting ability and demonic power, my husband was the biggest softie I'd ever met.

Vergil, brave or stupid, tried to hand his gift to Nero directly. It was the only one wrapped neatly, with crisp blue paper and a small, sparkly bow he must have dug out of the Christmas supplies. Nero turned his nose up with a huff, and Vergil breathed a sigh. For a moment, I caught the crushing disappointment in his eyes. It was gone by the time he straightened himself up, placing his gift on the stack with Sparda's.

We couldn't get him to open a single present that night, not even when I tried to hand them to him. Things were like that for a while.

Now Nero wouldn't stop talking about pool of all things. "And I'm good at it," he concluded.

"Is that right?"

He nodded with insistence. "Uncle Dante said so."

Heaving a sigh, I shrugged. "As long as Uncle Dante isn't teaching you how to gamble, I guess some billiards are fine." I still wasn't sure how I felt about Dante taking Nero that far downtown, but he'd kept the kid fed and in one piece, so the day had gone as well as I could have hoped. The night on the other hand…

"I'm gonna tell my friend about the city," Nero said with a dazzling smile. "I haven't got to see them in forever. Can I go outside today?"

"Ah, so that's what that dashing grin is for," I said, pinching his cheek until he gave one of those squeaky growls.

"Evie!"

The rainfall had kept him stuck indoors for a while, and he'd been antsier and antsier with each passing day, wiggling every time he sat and speaking most words through a whine.

"I guess you'll have to ask your father first," I said. His playful smile vanished. Looked like I was right, then. I hated when I was right sometimes, so I let him have a quick subject change. "Did you get all your studies done?"

"Yeah, all done. Did them all before Uncle Dante came."

How Vergil had convinced the stubborn kid to do all those pain-in-the-ass workbooks, I had no idea. My only guess was that Nero refused to be beaten in any challenge. A little reverse psychology went a long way with Nero. I'd used the "I bet I could clean your room faster than you can" line a bit more than I should have.

"Good job on getting those done," I said, maybe trying a bit too hard to flatter him. "You're always so dutiful."

It worked like a charm. Nero turned all blushing and bashful like a kid handing over a love letter. Kicking his feet under the table, he mumbled some form of denial and thanks. Vergil would deny it 'til kingdom come, but Nero had absolutely gotten the trait from his father. I used to compliment the boys just to watch Dante grin and Vergil grumble. It was just as cute with Nero, and Vergil was missing out by not giving the kid some praise every now and then.

When I heard movement in the kitchen, I leaned toward the doorway to see my elder son digging a mug out of the cabinet. "Morning, Vergil," I called. There was no way he hadn't seen us, and he knew better than to avoid greeting me. That only confirmed my suspicions even more. "There are cinnamon rolls if you want one."

"I'll pass, thank you." He went straight to the coffee pot, refusing to look my way.

I wasn't sure when one of my sons decided to stop being fun while the other one decided to only be fun, but I wished they would have met in the middle somewhere.

"Nero got all his studies done for the week," I said.

"As he should."

Despite being the one with a masters degree, he could be dense sometimes. I cleared my throat with a hint of insistence, and his eyes finally flashed my way. "Did you check them over?" I asked. "How did he do?"

Nero was frozen in the seat next to me, tense, silent and staring at the table with such intensity that I thought it might catch fire at any moment.

"Fine," Vergil managed with some hesitation. "He did… well. Very well." His fumbling attempts were as cute as they were painful. Like his son, he did his best to ignite the coffee maker with his gaze. "Good… good job, Nero."

Nero didn't move, but he looked like he'd just fallen out of his chair. After a few blinks, he must have realized he wasn't dreaming because he looked to me, then to his father. "Can I go outside today?" he asked.

Vergil didn't look our way again. "Yes, but check with your grandfather and wear your jacket."

It was the slightest flinch, just a twitch of Nero's eyes, but I caught it. That settled it, then. We were going to have a talk. Nero could be exempt for a while. He deserved to go see the sun and his friend. A real friend would have been better, but at least he felt like he had someone to talk to.

Vergil, though. Vergil and I were going to have a talk.

He was spared for a few minutes while we waited for my husband to appear. Vergil sipped his coffee in the meantime, staying in the kitchen away from us. Grumbling, Nero dropped his chin to the tabletop. "Where's Nonno?"

Few days went by where I didn't ask that question. Sparda had a knack for disappearing, often because he'd be distracted by something of interest and would lose track of time. Whatever he did to scan the forest for trouble was beyond me, but he had some sense of the area that kept me from worrying too much every time Nero went out alone. Dante and Vergil going out had given me endless amounts of stress too, but at least they'd had each other if something went wrong.

When Sparda did grace us with his presence, Nero shot out of his chair and ran up to grab his grandfather's arm. "Nonno!" he demanded. "I want to go outside. Check outside for me."

"Please," I said.

"Please," Nero corrected.

"As you wish, little one." Sparda pulled his arm up, Nero dangling from it until he could grab Sparda's shoulders and scramble onto them instead. Once Nero had his spot, he dropped his chin into Sparda's hair with a triumphant smirk.

I was glad Nero had warmed up to him quickly because seeing my husband moping for those first couple of weeks after Nero arrived was pathetic. That was just like him, though. He was the only one of us who was thrilled the moment he heard about Nero.

"A grandson!?" he'd said, eyes shining behind his glasses with the sort of pure joy I hadn't seen since Vergil and Dante were born.

I was glad someone was happy because I felt like I'd just been punched in the gut. My voice came out as a whisper a few times before I was able to grasp it. "Vergil? Vergil had a son?" There was no way. Absolutely no way. "Are you sure it's not Dante's?"

"I have a grandson," Sparda was still saying, lost in a joyous daze. "I'm a grandfather." I was certain I wasn't even old enough to be a grandmother, and even imagining the title being attached to me made me want to sit down.

"I swear," Dante sighed. "He's not mine. I'm a little shocked too." He stood at the front window, staring out at something, perhaps hoping to escape the situation altogether.

Vergil stood in front of us, looking like a vulnerable child himself. He spoke in a resigned breath. "He is mine. He's five years old. His name is Nero."

"Five!?" I screeched. "Oh my god, Vergil, you could have led with that."

While it was the absolute last thing I wanted to think about, I couldn't believe Vergil had ever had sex. He'd never shown interest in any person, regardless of gender. But not only had Vergil gotten with a woman, he'd done it five years ago, and there was a child, and no one bothered to mention any of it to me.

"I didn't know," he said as though he could read the swarm of thoughts roaring through my head. "If I'd known, I would have done something sooner."

I set to pacing, matching the pace of my frantic thoughts, back and forth in my head. Sparda tried to find some soothing words to calm me, but I was too far gone. "Who's the mother?" I decided first.

"I don't know."

I thought I was going to die from a heart attack right then, every inch of me shaking with my pulse. "You don't know!?"

Vergil at least had the sense to look guilty, but the expression was so odd on him that my feet froze. "I was very inebriated. I don't remember her name or face, and his files don't have any information on her. Apparently, he was abandoned on the steps of the orphanage as an infant."

As much as I wanted to lock myself in my room and scream for a while, I had to shove my anger down and deal with the situation at hand. As I steadied my breathing, Sparda spoke with the first hints of anxiety in his voice. "He was abandoned? Who raised him?"

With a short, dark laugh, Dante cut in from where he stood, still watching the outside. "'Raised' is a strong word for that place. Fortuna's nothing but a glossy coat of paint over a slice of Hell."

Every bit of joy slipped from Sparda's face. "Fortuna?"

So my sons, my precious, idiot sons, had gone to that damned cult island. If they pulled any more surprises on me, and I didn't die from shock, I was going to disown them both.

A quick glance passed between Dante and Vergil. "Yes," Vergil answered. "We know what the place holds now, but I am content to never go back."

"What about your son?" I asked. "You can't just leave him there. I won't let you-"

"He's here," Dante said. "We brought him back with us." Despite looking like he needed to lie down, Vergil nodded.

They were both officially disowned.

"Where?" Sparda gasped, all his fears forgotten. "May I meet him?"

Dante cocked a thumb over his shoulder, out the window. "He got really freaked on the way back and bolted out of the car as soon as we stopped. Climbed a tree, and we couldn't convince him to get down."

My hands scrubbed at my face as I released a slow hiss of air. "And you just left him outside?"

"I'm keeping an eye on him."

"I can get him down!" Sparda said.

As it turned out, no, he couldn't. The poor boy clung to a high, thin branch like a squirrel and took turns glaring down at all of us individually. The anger was all for show. I could see it in the way he trembled all over.

"I think he can sense demonic power pretty well," Dante said. "Doesn't have much himself, but he knows better than to let us close."

"He was fine for part of the trip," Vergil muttered. "I think Father's presence set him off."

"I will not hurt you, little one!" Sparda called up the tree. "Let me help you down."

"No!" Nero screeched. Despite his sour disposition, he was a cute kid. He'd inherited the silky white hair that looked soft despite all his tangles. He needed a haircut desperately. I wasn't sure if he could see much through his bangs. What fragments of his eyes that I could spot showed them to be a blue so bright that the distance between us didn't dull it. He was scrawny, perhaps even underfed, but his cheeks were still childishly soft, and he had a button nose that must have been his mother's.

The boys plotted a means to drag Nero out of the tree until I cut in. "You'll scare him worse if you try to force him down. You three go inside. I'll get him down."

"I could do it," Sparda said, his brow pinched. "There's no need to worry. I wouldn't drop him."

"That's not what I'm worried about." Alright, maybe I was a little worried. There were so many branches to hit on the way down. "Get inside. Now. I've got this."

Vergil obeyed with a nod, and Dante helped drag his father toward the house. When the front door was shut, I looked back up to the furious kid. "My name is Eva," I called. "No need to be afraid. I'm human."

"Not afraid!"

Right, only the bravest sorts hid in trees. Though he still checked the house every few seconds, his shaking eased.

"Can you tell me your name?" I asked.

He considered it for a moment, eyeing me for some sign that I couldn't be trusted. "Nero."

"I'm your grandmother, Nero." Saying it out loud was even worse than thinking it. I had to suppress a wince. "You can call me…" Every nickname that flashed through my head was out of the question. I was no one's grandma or nana. Absolutely not. "Evie," I decided.

"Eh-vee?" he echoed, testing the name. His head tilted a fraction.

"That's right." Sure, I could regret it later. "I promise I can keep the boys away from you, so would you be alright with coming down and talking to me?"

"They are bad!" he huffed.

"I locked them inside. They can't get you. You're safe, Nero."

"Safe?" With one more look to the house, he clambered down with no trouble, little squirrel that he was. Twigs caught in his hair, and his hands were a mess of cuts, but he showed no worry as he dropped in front of me. Those bright baby blue eyes were alight with curiosity.

Having him close was strange, impossible almost. This was Vergil's son, and I could see it. Bits of his father showed in Nero's face and in the way his gaze held a strange, sharp intelligence that suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

The urge to protect him hit me like a truck. All at once, I was desperate to hug the boy close, furious that those Fortuna bastards had ever had their claws in him. This was my grandson, and I was going to make him feel safe, happy, and absolutely adored.

First, I had to make sure I didn't scare him off. Chasing a kid through the woods or having to follow him up a tree wasn't my idea of fun. I knew better. I'd been through it enough times.

"You're awfully quiet for a kid," I said as I reached forward to pull a twig free of his hair. Eyeing my hand, he leaned back at first. Not a good sign. "There are some sticks in your hair."

"'kay." He ducked and let me tug them free.

"Are you hungry, Nero?"

"Yeah."

"What food do you like?"

With a hum, he rocked back on his heels and pressed to his toes. "Dunno."

"Do you like chicken? Hamburgers?" When Dante was five, he would eat nothing but tomato soup. Vergil had a phase where he refused anything but pot pies for some reason. Children were picky, but food was also the quickest way to a kid's heart.

"Pasta," Nero mumbled.

"Oh, I make a mean manicotti. Or spaghetti. Whatever you'd like. Evie will make you anything to celebrate you coming home."

Anything. Anything to help him feel safe and loved.

He still didn't want to go anywhere near the boys, but he let me pick him up and carry him to the house. As we drew closer to the front door, he wrapped his arms around my neck and pressed his cheek to my shoulder. "They won't hurt you," I assured him. I must have said it hundreds of times over the first few weeks. "And I won't let them close until you're comfortable."

Sparda wasn't a fan of that last promise. Bless his bleeding heart, he still followed it to a T, staying at least five paces from Nero at all times. His first attempt to have the kid warm up to him went about as well as I'd expected.

"I'm your grandfather, Sparda," he said with a smile and a hand placed over his heart. "It's a pleasure, Nero. I'm thrilled to meet you."

One of the distrusting frowns I was getting used to seeing sank onto Nero's face. "Not Sparda," he said.

"Oh, you must have heard… the stories." Sparda's smile fizzled out, but he did his best to drag it back. "Well, I am Sparda. That is my name. I am a demon, and I'm certain that worries you, but I would never do you any harm, little one. I think we can get along quite well. You're welcome to call me anything you like." He offered the boy a hand, but Nero had learned that he liked to use my legs as a barrier and hid himself from Sparda's view.

"Not Sparda," Nero grumbled.

Few came quite so close to breaking my husband's spirit as Nero, and Sparda breathed a soft sigh as his smile slipped once more. "Ah, I suppose I'd rather not be called that. Anything else, though. Any title is welcome."

Nero didn't seem to care enough to give him one, but we were lucky to get more than two words out of the kid at a time. Dante had a bit more luck. He'd visit every couple days, more than he ever had before, and would wave at Nero from across the room. "Hey, kid, it's your Uncle Dante again," he'd say, "not to be confused with your broody dad. I'm the fun one."

After the third time, Nero nodded in greeting, but it took a while before he stopped glaring at his uncle's every move.

Vergil, well, I just didn't know with Vergil. With some coaxing, I got him to break the lease on his apartment and come home. "At least for a little while," I said.

He made a sound that might have been a laugh if not for its mocking edge. "It doesn't matter where I am. The boy wants nothing to do with me. You're the only one having any luck with him."

"Don't expect me to raise your son, Vergil. If you don't think you're capable, I will take over, but I need you to at least try. Give him some time. Talk to him. He'll warm up to you."

For once, he let sorrow sink deep into his eyes without trying to hide it. "I will… try."

That was all I could ask of him.

I did wonder how they'd gotten Nero to go with them at all considering his aversion and Vergil's winning attitude. No matter how I asked, though, neither of my sons would give me the full story.

I'd already disowned them, so I couldn't find a suitable enough threat to make them spill it.

As if in competition with his sons to see who could make the worst decisions, Sparda rushed up to me a few days after our disastrous birthday party with a "great idea." He clasped my hands in his, positively giddy. "Nero is simply afraid of me because he senses demonic power from my human form, and this surely confuses him."

I loved my husband dearly, but his ideas always made me nervous. "I don't think I like where this is going," I said, "and I'm not sure that's the only reason he's afraid of you, but go on."

"If he sees my true form, he will understand what I really am, and he will see has no reason to fear."

I nodded, my expression blank. "That is the worst idea I've ever heard."

"No, I assure you it will work perfectly." Tugging my hands up, he brushed his lips to the backs of my fingers. Flattery would get him nowhere, but it was a nice touch. "Do help me in this, my dear."

I only agreed because Nero was bound to see the boys' devil forms at some point, and a controlled environment was better than one of them giving the poor boy the shock of his life. We did make an effort to explain ahead of time while Nero peered around my legs to glare at his grandfather.

"He'll look scary, but he'll still be the same person, and he won't hurt you," I said. "I'll stay between you two, alright?"

Nero nodded.

"I don't think my true form looks that scary. Does it?" Sparda asked.

Well, no, not to me. "Aren't you supposed to want to look scary? You are a demon."

"I wouldn't wish to scare you or Nero."

Then we shouldn't have been trying this nonsense plan to begin with. The swell of demonic energy that hit as Sparda's form crackled with static was strong enough that I felt it like a buzzing swarm across my skin. Nero must have felt it far worse. I held tight to his hand which shook in my grasp.

And then there was Sparda, towering there with his horns and fangs and all that. "See?" I said to Nero. "He's not that scary. He's just like an oversized bug. Here." Slipping the hidden flyswatter from behind my back, I poked the end of the handle against the wide-eyed kid's arm.

"Dear, we have been over this 'bug' thing," Sparda said in a dual-toned voice that both rasped and sang. "I am not an insect, honest."

"Sure." After a bit more poking, I managed to get Nero to take the flyswatter. "He's just scared," I told the kid. "That's his greatest weakness."

"It is not," Sparda sighed, a sound like metal in a blender.

Nero looked from the flyswatter to me then to Sparda. With slow, hesitant steps, Nero pulled me closer to the demon. I made a quick motion for Sparda to crouch down, and he did just in time for Nero to rear back and smack the flyswatter to his face.

"Dear, stop laughing," Sparda pleaded, but I was doubled over with tears in my eyes. I'd never seen anything better in my life. Nero must have found that encouraging because he kept lightly slapping Sparda with the harmless piece of plastic. "Little one, why?" Sparda asked.

"Bug," Nero said. The edges of his lips tugged toward a smile until a soft giggle bubbled from his mouth.

I found tears welling up in my eyes for a different reason. Nero hadn't smiled once, not a single time since I'd met him. It fit his face so much better than all the pouting and scowling.

His hand slipped from mine, and he reached up to tug at one of Sparda's horns. "A bug," Nero said again, pulling himself up onto Sparda's horn, his feet in the hooked curve. Though I would have thought Nero was suddenly a bit too comfortable around the demon, Sparda just tilted his head to account for the new weight.

"I'm not a bug. I'm your grandfather, little one."

Nero giggled again, his voice coming out as a bright chirp I'd never heard from him. "Bug Nonno!"

"Nonno?" His lips quirked with a smile. "I quite like that one. Can we keep it?"

Nero nodded. "You're Nonno." He pointed toward me. "Evie." Then to the front door. "Uncle Dan...te."

We both waited for him to continue, but he ended it there, bringing his hand back to hold onto Sparda's horn. With careful movements, Sparda stood up so that Nero could dangle from his horn like it was another tree branch. "Nonno have wings," Nero said. "Fly? We fly?"

"Certainly!"

"No," I said, shaking my head.

"No," Sparda corrected. With another crash of power and sparks, he snapped to his human form, letting Nero fall into his arms when the perch vanished.

"Aw." The kid set to pouting again, but he didn't fight the arms cradling him.

Sparda was positively grinning. "See? It worked."

"This is the first time one of your plans ever has."

If miracles ever came to demons, that was one of them. The next time Dante showed up, he yelled his usual greeting through the house for Nero. "Hi, Uncle Dante," Nero said back.

For once in his life, Dante was stunned speechless. That lasted for about half a second. "Hey, kid," he said with a smile. "Good to see you. Did you miss me?"

"No."

"Ah, ow, you're a heartbreaker, kid."

I waited for things to improve that way between Nero and Vergil. To some extent, their relationship did improve. They learned to talk to each other, and Vergil could stand by Nero with no trouble, yet that uneasy divide didn't dissipate.

So I waited for things to improve, hoping for the best all the while.

I was still waiting.


In the next chapter, Eva will more properly fight a boy.

Oh, and huge thanks to my reviewers! Y'all are so nice. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic.