Is there a story that's the opposite of The Boy Who Cried Wolf? What happens if no one believes him?
And he still gets eaten?
No ethical person would have made me wake up and drive at ass o'clock in the morning. But this was my mom, and she did make great pancakes.
The air was bitter cold that morning. The heat from my running bike created a small cloud, and the first snow of the season had started falling. Everything outside looked like it was covered in a puffy layer of bubble bath. The trees around the house weren't so naked anymore. If the kid wasn't already awake and begging to go out in the snow, he would be as soon as I got there.
My whole trip was blinding white alongside the shades of gray in the sky, so splashes of black and pale blue were quick to catch my eye. They dotted the yard in front of the house, clashing with the snow that had blanketed the place. As I drew closer, more fragments of color came into view along with a clearer shape.
My tires ripped through the dirt as I skidded to a halt. At first, that was all I could think to do. Questions buzzed through my head, namely, what the fuck?
The front yard was covered in dead birds. There must have been hundreds of them, none any bigger than my hand. They all lay limp, some with their wings outstretched. When the wind picked up, feathers drifted along with the snow.
"Fuck," I hissed, shutting off my bike and racing to the house. "Fuck fuck fuck." Besides my cursing, the forest was so damn quiet that I could have been the last one left alive in the damn place.
I better not have been.
"Fuck fuck fuck!" I was still spitting as I slammed into the front door. It crackled against my weight. The living room was empty, all the lights off. "Vergil! Mom! Dad! Are you here!? Is everyone okay!?" My heart felt like it had been caught in a blender, and I couldn't seem to remember how to breathe until Vergil appeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes.
"Dante, what are you yelling about? Do you know what time it is?"
I'd never been more of a morning person than he was, so it was weird to see him so dead-eyed with frays of hair out of place. Though I'd been planning to kick his ass when I got there, I was so relieved he'd survived the weird bird death ritual thing that I tackled him and smothered him with a hug while he screeched beside my ear. "Dante! What is wrong with you?"
From down the hall, Mom peered out from her bedroom, a shotgun ready in her hand. "Is everything okay, Dante?"
Dad appeared behind her and tried to tug her back with a gentle hand on her arm, but her feet remained planted. "Please let me handle it if there's trouble, Dear," he said.
"I've got it."
As Vergil started to grab for Yamato, I let him go, sending him stumbling back. The weird bird ritual must have sapped all his energy and grace, but he was quick to straighten his clothes and hair.
"I don't know how you haven't noticed, but there's something fucked up in your front yard," I said with a thumb cocked over my shoulder. "Where's the kid? Is he alright?"
"Yes, he's in his room," Dad said as he drifted past Mom. His expression pinched with a slow unease. "What's outside? It smells of death."
"Go take a look, but be careful. I don't know if it's possessed or something." I wasn't sure if something like that could be possessed. Hexed, maybe. I sure hoped we weren't dealing with any witches, though. Those girls were mean as hell.
Dad and Vergil slipped past me, but Mom stayed put as I went to the kid's door. I didn't like that he hadn't woken up at all the racket. "Do you think it's alright?" Mom asked. "Whatever it is?"
"I have no idea," I admitted.
Nero's room looked empty without the chair and music stand in the middle of it. He was too clean for a kid. Other than a few stray workbooks across the floor, he kept all his toys in bins and shoved in his organized closet. When it had been my room, the place had always been a mess.
A ball huddled under the blankets of his bed, shaking like the cold had gotten to him. "Kid?" I called as I placed my hand to what I guessed was his shoulder. A jolt tore through him so harshly that it seemed to shoot up my arm like an electric shock. I couldn't help but jerk back, but when he tossed the blankets back, he launched himself at me. Getting a cannonball to the gut would have knocked the wind out of me less.
"Uncle Dante!" His voice was so thin that he sounded more desperate than happy. He'd always been a sensitive kid, and I feared he might have noticed the birds somehow. But he would have told someone if that were the case. Surely.
"Hey, take it easy, kid," I said, ruffling all the cowlicks that had curled into his hair. "You alright?"
He wasn't, no matter what he said. Even as I put my hands to his back, he was still shaking. "Didn't mean it," he said into my shirt. "Just wanna stay here. Just wanna stay."
"Helpful," I sighed.
"He must have had another nightmare," Mom said. She stood leaning against the doorway, the shotgun resting on her shoulder. "It's been a while, but he used to have them a lot." Her voice turned soft as a lullaby. "It's alright, Nero. You're safe. We won't let anything get you."
"Sorry," Nero whimpered. "I'm sorry." As tears filled his eyes, he kept on in a loop until I'd had enough of that and scooped him up into a carry.
"No need to apologize, kid. Everything's going to be fine because Uncle Dante is here now." I grinned at his confusion. "Now, I don't know about you, but I was promised pancakes, and I'm pretty hungry, so what do you say to going to the kitchen?"
His eyes remained wide as he nodded. Pancakes were sure to wake him up out of his weird daze, and the best thing about the kitchen was that it didn't have any front-facing windows. I didn't even have to worry about shielding him from the ones on the way downstairs because he wrapped his arms around my neck and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. He'd never been so clingy with me before, and he was toastier than I would have expected, like a little furnace.
Mom dug around in the cabinets and the fridge until she had everything tossed out on the counter. "Could you help, Nero?" she asked. As he peered out from his hiding spot, I realized how heavy his eyes were. He looked as exhausted as Vergil. I'd never heard of an evil bird hex that kept people from sleeping, but I'd seen stranger things.
Nero released his stranglehold on me, so I let him down. After plopping him onto the counter to sit, Mom had him crack eggs and measure flour. If he hadn't looked like he was about to fall asleep in the mixing bowl at any moment, it would have been a good tactic to distract him.
"Did you see that it's snowing, kid?" I asked.
He looked up with the slow realization of someone who was still processing words. His eyes darted toward the window before returning to the bowl hooked into his arm. "Yeah," was all he said.
"I'm starting to feel bad for waking him up," I muttered.
"Your father and brother are taking a while," Mom added in an equally hushed tone as she stepped closer to me.
"Well, there are a lot of birds."
"Birds?"
"Yeah, the front yard is just covered in dead birds. It's crazy. If a demon had done it, Dad should have noticed, but I can't imagine a human doing all that so quickly." They hadn't been there long or the snow would have covered them.
"Great," Mom said. "I hope Sparda doesn't go touching a bunch of dead birds before breakfast."
That did sound like him. Before I could respond, my smile faded as I noticed Nero's eyes glazed with fear again. He'd stopped moving, his knuckles white against his grip on the whisk. I couldn't even tell if he was breathing. All he did was stare out the window like the world outside was melting.
"What are you looking at, kid?" I asked, already starting toward him. Again, he jolted in surprise, and I had to shoot a hand out to catch the bowl before the batter could hit the tile. With a relieved puff of breath, I straightened myself and offered the bowl back to him. "That was close," I said.
He was shaking again, shaking so hard that he couldn't keep his hands steady enough to take the bowl from me. Mom took it instead.
Nothing lurked outside as far as I could see, just endless snow and trees. "You're starting to stress me out a little, kid," I said as I picked him back up. He tackled my neck again so hard that I choked for a second. This time, his cheek brushed mine as he burrowed himself back into his hiding place. It felt like leaning too close to a fire.
"Is he usually this warm?" I asked.
Setting down the bowl, Mom hummed in her vague, questioning way and pressed the back of her hand to what she could reach of Nero's face. Another hum, this one displeased. "He's got a fever. By the looks of it, it could be a stress fever, honestly."
"You can get a fever from that?" I'd always thought that was made up for TV, but I also rarely had fevers beyond the occasional instances of poison, so it wasn't my area of expertise.
Mom nodded before flitting over to the fridge and fishing out a juice box. "He hasn't been eating well, so that doesn't help. You're too stubborn for your own good, Nero."
She must have nudged the juice box into his hands because I found it chilling the back of my neck. Bunching my shoulders up, I hissed, "Kid, free me. I don't deserve this suffering."
"Oh yeah?" Mom said. "I think I remember someone hanging up on me."
Shit. She remembered. Of course she did. Mom never forgot anything. "Who could have possibly done that?" I gasped. "Such cruelty."
It took me a second to recognize the little warbly breath from the kid as a laugh. I was happy to know he wasn't dead to the world just yet. "How are you feeling, kid?" I asked as I settled him down in a dining room chair
"Okay." His voice still sounded like a small gust could carry it off. "Worry 'bout J, though."
"Well, you can worry about J, and I'll worry about you," I said. "You must have worn yourself out. Might not hurt to go back to bed after breakfast. Sleeping in is nice, huh?"
After a few misses, he managed to jab the straw into place and blinked up at me while sipping the juice. He may not have heard a word I said. Poor kid needed a nap.
Hearing the front door open, I ruffled his hair and darted for the living room. Vergil dusted snow from his shoulders as Dad cleaned his glasses on his coat. By the looks of Dad's puzzlement and Vergil's annoyance, I wouldn't be getting the answers I'd hoped for. "At least you're all set up to start a taxidermy collection," I said.
"Oh, I wouldn't like that," Dad muttered, his eyes rolled up in thought. "Besides, I have put them away." His gloves rested on his shoulder, so I had to hope he hadn't touched any dead birds with his bare hands. After replacing his glasses, he put a hand to his chin like some old-fashioned detective, but I could tell the pose wasn't doing anything for him. He was stumped.
"So what's the deal?" I asked. "What did we piss off this time?"
With a sigh, Dad shook his head.
"They were all killed with one single, precise stab wound through the chest," Vergil offered in his place. "It's not something I would expect a human to accomplish, especially considering that they all appear to be birds from this very forest."
"It's unfortunate," Dad said. "I suppose a human could manage it, but it would have been a challenge. There are so many birds, and they're all such recent kills. I'm uncertain a human would have known of this custom, though."
I held up a hand to keep Dad from wandering off topic. "What custom?"
"Oh, right, I suppose you wouldn't know it either." He laughed. "It's a very old custom for demon-kind. I haven't seen it used in centuries. In fact, I'd go so far as to call it old-fashioned."
So things could go out of style for demons. That was a new one for me.
"It's an invocation of challenge," he continued, "particularly for possessions or territory, but it's a lowly sort. The challenger kills something under the other demon's ownership or protection and leaves it for them to find." He crossed his arms, his eyes darkening. "Something came that close to the house, and I couldn't sense it. Whatever this thing is, it seems to revel in being difficult."
"The birds were under your protection?" Vergil asked. Though he didn't sound amused, I couldn't help but find that hilarious. The Legendary Dark Knight Sparda - lord of the songbirds.
Dad drew out his answer with a curious hum. "I suppose. They are an important part of the forest, and this area of the forest is mine by default, namely because few demons would be foolish enough to come so close to me. I am saddened to see such unnecessary death, but I would rather the birds than something else. The thing that is killed is usually a signal of some sort as to what is to be taken. For instance, if you wished to take a demon's mate, you would kill their child."
I gave a low whistle. "Sometimes I forget just how fucked-up you demons are."
Instead of showing any offense, Dad nodded. "Oh, certainly."
"The trouble is, Father doesn't know what it is that could evade his senses like this," Vergil cut in with a hiss that signaled he wanted us back on track.
"It's not that I don't know of some things that could do it, but more than one method exists."
"You can't narrow things down a bit?" I asked.
"I wish I could. I don't even know what the challenge is for. The forest, perhaps? And I certainly couldn't begin to guess who they are. I wish I had more of a hint so that I could know whether I should attempt to meet them away from the house in order to keep everyone out of harm's way, or if they wish for me to stray from the house so they might target it. Either way, perhaps it would be best to at least move Eva and Nero to a safer place."
Dad didn't often have good ideas, but I could get behind that one. Even Vergil conceded with a nod. "While I believe I could protect them, if something can hide itself from you, it is an issue," he said. "Keeping them out of harm's way would be best."
While it was a good idea, Nero wasn't going to like it, not with how freaked out and sick he was. Waiting until he'd passed out to take him anywhere seemed like the best option. "Where do you expect them to go in the meantime?" I asked.
A smile broke out across Dad's face as he looked at me. "It would just be for a short while, I'm sure."
Oh, no. Absolutely not. "You can't be serious. I only have one bed and a couch." And Mom would flip if she saw the place, especially my empty fridge. I hadn't done any dishes in days, and at least five pizza boxes were stacked on top of the trash can. Come to think of it, that was probably why I had roaches.
As though Vergil could see into my thoughts and had spotted all the scuttling roaches, his eyes narrowed to thin lines. "It's unfortunate, but it's the best option," he said, biting down on every word.
"What's wrong with a hotel?" I asked. They sure weren't short on cash.
Dad was still all smiles. "You need to stay close to them," he said. From the sound of it, I wouldn't be going on this weird hunt for the bird killer at all. As much as I loved Mom and the kid, sitting around with them instead of getting to chase some mystery sounded like a slog.
Though I knew I wasn't winning, I offered a last-ditch argument. "You know, there are more demons downtown than uptown. My shop isn't the best place."
A flash of demonic energy smacked me in the face. Vergil was in some kind of mood again. "Are you telling me that you are incapable of protecting my son?" he spat. "I suppose Mom can do it in your place then."
Great, I'd been there all of fifteen minutes, and Vergil already had my eyes burning with building anger. Venom pierced my words before I could stop myself. "Already apparent that I protect him better than you, or is he usually like this as a result of your great parenting?"
Vergil was supposed to bite back. He was supposed to snarl and draw his sword, tell me I was a dead man. Instead, his anger slipped away to reveal a weary guilt that weighed down his shoulders. "It would seem so," he murmured. "But I will… I'm going to fix that. Before he leaves, yes, I'll do it before he leaves."
Vergil rarely surprised me anymore. I'd known him too long, yet I stood there with my mouth hanging open as I searched for some response. I couldn't find any. Dad's eyes were bright with affection until he hid it behind a smile that was a bit too wide. "Where do you expect to be during all this?" he asked.
Confusion shocked Vergil back to his senses. "I will help you deal with this."
"Is that right?"
"It is my territory just as much as it is yours."
"If you say so, Son."
"Father!"
"Hey!" Mom barked from the kitchen. "Are you boys fighting? I'm not having it! Come here and get some pancakes."
I wasn't going to argue with pancakes. Back in the dining room, I found Nero smacked face-down against the table like a drunk at a bar. He only raised his head when Mom tapped him on the shoulder and told him the pancakes were ready. After a few slow blinks, his eyes shot wide at the sight of Vergil sitting next to him. The week must have been a weird one because Vergil looked like he wanted to shrink under Nero's gaze.
The pancakes were good, same as always. Mom had aced the recipe years back. While I ate through three of them, Nero took two bites before dropping his face back to the table. I looked to Mom, but she was watching Vergil, and Vergil's eyes kept flitting over Nero. I could see the usual calculations running through Vergil's head, but on top of that was something else - worry.
With hesitation, he raised his hand and let his fingertips settle on Nero's shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was so gentle that I swore it couldn't have been my brother's. "Are you alright?"
Nero's eyes dragged open again, hazy blue obscured under his messy hair. The seconds ticked by as he looked up at his father in silence, Vergil looking more and more anxious until Mom cut in. "He's got a bit of a stress fever, and he needs some rest, but he'll be alright. I was hoping he'd eat first, but I guess we should just let him sleep for now. Nero, sweetie, do you want some more juice before you go to sleep?"
Nero breathed a sigh through his nose. "Hm, juice," was all he said.
Mom must have made more sense of it than I did because she went to the fridge and grabbed another box. For some reason, she handed it to Vergil instead of Nero. Vergil looked at it like he'd never seen one in his life.
"Nero, do you want to go lie down?" Mom asked.
"Don't wanna be 'lone," he said in such a small, sad voice that I was pretty sure I needed to lie down too.
"Don't worry. Your dad will stay with you."
Vergil jolted at the news. When Mom caught his gaze, the two of them had a silent argument that Vergil had no hope of winning. Mom's eyes might as well have shot out beams with the message, "Too bad. It's on you now."
For his part, Nero didn't seem to care, but he did paw at the juice box in Vergil's hand, effectively ending the argument. "Alright," Vergil said as he popped the straw into it. "Here."
Nero was so tired that he kept having to peel his eyelids back open, and he didn't show any sign that he noticed when Vergil picked him up. No, Nero just sipped his juice. The kid had absolutely no idea what was going on. I was sure of it.
"Are you sure he's okay?" I asked Mom as I leaned my chair back on two legs to keep an eye on them. Vergil sat on the couch and settled Nero down to lie next to him.
Coming up next to me, she watched them as well. She also grabbed the back of my chair and smacked it back down onto four legs. "He doesn't have any symptoms of anything," she said. "He's just more stressed than his little body can handle. I should have intervened sooner. We're really all too stubborn in this family."
Dad nodded as he stuffed a half of a pancake in his mouth.
As soon as we heard Vergil speak, we all froze, listening. Sure, we were all stubborn, and we were terrible eavesdroppers too.
"It seems you didn't sleep well last night either. That is, ah… I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I would never have wished to cause you so much stress. What I mean to say is-" As he hissed a sigh, I leaned my chair back again to see him rubbing a hand against his face. Nero had finished off his juice box and was chewing on the straw, his brow puzzled. "I want to apologize," Vergil huffed, tossing his hands up, "but I can't seem to think of anything that doesn't sound cheap or shallow."
Only my brother could think that hard about how a seven-year-old would take an apology. I felt like I needed to get out some pom-poms for him.
"Just please know that I'm working on my temper, and I aim to be more aware of your feelings," he continued, his voice lowered. "I can be difficult to have as a father, but I hope to learn to be a father whom you feel you can trust. I hate that I have ever made you feel anxious. I am… very proud of you, Nero. You still have much to learn, but so do I. We will make it through this. I hope you can forgive me for what I said to you."
The fact that I was pretty sure Nero wasn't coherent enough to understand a word of it made it just about the saddest thing I'd ever seen. Well, it made for a good practice run. The kid's eyes were glassy as Vergil brushed Nero's bangs out of them. "I don't know that you can actually understand much of what I'm saying," Vergil said with a breath of a laugh. At least he'd noticed.
Nero finally made a sound, another hum that could have meant anything. His hand drifted up to pat at Vergil's shoulder. "Forgive you," he said. "Don't go anywhere. Don't leave."
Despite everything, it was nice to see Vergil smile for once. "I suppose I should let you sleep. I'll stay here a while, but your grandfather and I have something we need to take care of here. Would you be alright going with your uncle to his shop for a day?"
Nero's fingers curled into the fabric of Vergil's sleeve. It was the first time I'd ever seen him clingy with his dad before. "Be careful, Father."
"Oh and, um-" Vergil's eyes flitted to their corners, and he swiped a finger across his nose. Embarrassed was my new favorite look for my brother. "You don't- If you want to, you can… Unless you really want to call me 'Father,' in which case, that's fine."
"Oh, bless him," Mom whispered, placing a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. "He's trying."
After a few more stumbling attempts, he managed it. "But you can call me whatever you want. Within reason." By that point, Nero was struggling to keep his eyes open. "And, you know, I hardly use my violin anymore. I'd hate for you to fall behind. Just until we get you a new one, you could…" He trailed off as he noticed the kid dozing. Nero's hand still clutched Vergil's sleeve until Vergil pulled it away and set it back on the couch.
"Now if I could get him to listen as well as the rest of you, I'd be set," Vergil said, eyes flashing toward us. I waved. Mom clapped for him. Dad was still eating pancakes. As Vergil opened his mouth to say something scathing, Mom cut him off.
"So what's this about me leaving?"
Not too surprisingly, she wasn't thrilled after we explained the situation. She only agreed after we all assured her that, yes, she could handle herself, but someone needed to look after Nero while he was sick, and I was just about the worst person for the job. Plus, someone needed to drive Nero because I didn't need a repeat of last time with a kid passed out on my bike.
After a few minutes upstairs, Mom reappeared with a backpack slung over one shoulder. "I didn't pack that much," she said. "This had better not take long, whatever it is. And you two better be so careful." As I went over to gather up the kid, Mom smacked one hand to Dad's cheek and one to Vergil's. "There are vital stars near the first aid kit. Take them with you if you go out. There's more in the shed if you need them."
Those were more for her and Nero than the rest of us, but Vergil nodded, knowing better than to argue. "Of course, Dear," Dad said.
Nero was a sagging weight in my arms even when his eyes flickered open. I might not have understood his murmuring had his head not been resting on my shoulder. "We going to your shop?"
"Yeah, for a while. You can rest up, and we'll play some more pool." If this took all day, he'd have to take my bed, and so would Mom, so I got the couch. Great.
"A while?" Lifting his head, he blinked some of the glaze from his eyes. "Gotta do my workbooks. Haven't done 'em yet. I need to get 'em." Only Vergil could make his kid bother to think about something like that when he was dead on his feet.
"I'm sure you can skip a day," I said, but Nero shook his head.
"You don't have to take them, Nero," Vergil called. "It's alright to take a break for now."
When Nero puffed his cheeks, I knew I had no chance of leaving without those stupid books. "Want stickers," he said, kicking his feet.
"Stickers?" I echoed. For someone who was supposed to be tired, he wiggled with enough energy that I had to let him go. He took two steps before turning back and grabbing my hand to drag me along.
"Stickers are his incentive for finishing his assignments," Vergil said. "He likes them quite a bit."
I couldn't believe it. The two most hard-headed people I'd ever met forged a deal over tacky pieces of paper. "Kid, I think you're getting the poor end of this deal. You should ask for money or something."
"I like stickers," he said like they were some serious, sacred treasure. I had a feeling that if he did get money as a reward, he'd just buy himself more stickers anyway.
When he stumbled on the stairs, I tightened my grip on his hand and pulled him upright before he could eat a step. The second time he tripped, I just scooped him up under one arm to carry him the rest of the way. He dangled there like the angriest sack of potatoes I'd ever seen.
"Still feeling a little rough, kid?" I asked.
"No, I am okay," he said.
I snorted. "You lie through your teeth just like your dad."
"I'm not sick, but J is sick." Like with the stickers, he was so serious, his brow pinched with worry. "Hope they're gonna be okay. Been bad."
"What's wrong with them?" I asked as I plopped him down to his feet in his room. "Are they dizzy? Have a fever? Haven't been sleeping well? Not eating?"
The little brat stuck his tongue out at me. "No, Uncle Dante. They're…" He struggled for an answer as he scavenged for his books, strewn around the floor. "I dunno. I said some stuff. Didn't mean it, but J thinks so. They're mad."
Oh no, this sounded like a deep talk with understanding and all that. Not my forte. "Well, I've said some things I didn't mean," I offered, hesitation tugging at my words. "It happens, but you just make sure everyone understands that you're sorry and all that? And uh, try not to do it again."
"I did." His voice started wavering, growing thin like it had been when he first woke up. He hugged the books to his chest. "I tell them, but J keeps going to the window. I thought they don't like the house, but they won't go away."
He was shaking again, and a gnawing pit in my gut was telling me that it wasn't because of any nightmare. Kneeling in front of him, I put my hands to his shoulders until he looked me in the eye. "What do you mean they won't go away?"
"I told them I wanted to sleep, but they won't go away, and they're scary now."
Fuck. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but my heart was hammering. "How are they scary?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Their eyes." He brought one hand up in front of his face, drawing his fingers down in front of his eyes as he struggled for the right words. "Their eyes are… gone. Just black. I don't like it. Lots of black. Like… paint? They said I'm going away, but I don't wanna."
"Oh, fuck." I could get in trouble for cursing in front of the kid later. That was as tame as I could be then. "Come here, kid, we need to tell your dad and my dad and try not to give Mom a heart attack."
As I stood, he shook his head. "Da- Father and Evie say J's not real."
"Well we're all idiots," I said. "I'll back you up this time, but we've got to-"
Something hit the window outside, a thunk like some dumb bird. Nero's shoulders went taut under my hands as the gray light turned to shadow. I swore I could hear my own pulse as it rattled through me.
One hand shot for Ivory just as I turned to see something thin and white shatter through the window and ram into my chest.
The kid ripped from my grasp, my back slamming into the wall.
As I forced myself to blink the world back into focus, I found a bone piercing my sternum. My struggling pulse assured me that it had gotten through my heart too. Getting stabbed never got any easier. Always fucking annoying. I reached up to yank the thing out, but a flash of light burst from it along with a swarm of white feathers that might as well have been razors for the way they tore my heart and lungs to shreds.
The pain was blinding, white-hot agony like I'd swallowed acid. Blood gurgled in my throat with each useless gulp for air. Threads of an inky black substance poured through the feathers and dripped into my wound. When a strangled cough broke from me, the substance poured from my mouth along with my blood.
"Uncle Dante!" Nero screamed, his voice tearing raw in his desperation. He clawed at the windowsill, shards of glass digging into his arms as that thing - that bastard - held him in a careful embrace. If not for its empty eye sockets and that weird black ooze pouring from them, it could have been a kid. No bigger than Nero. Long white hair. Smiling like a son of a bitch. In the instant I looked at it, a hunk of flesh fell from its cheek, revealing its jawbone and teeth.
The wing stemmed from its back, and it had more, broad enough to block the sun from coming in, even with one still jammed into my chest. I grasped for my Trigger, reaching for the rush of fire that seemed to eat me up and leave me invincible all at once. Instead, a burst of agony shot through me. It was like I'd overloaded a fuse. Instead of fire, it felt like poison spreading through my veins.
I would have yelled, but my own blood strangled me to silence. A black haze fell over my vision, melting further down as the wing tore from my chest. My heart could have ripped out along with it for all I knew. I heard Nero scream again, but he sounded so far away.
Dammit.
Dammit, not the kid. Please, not the kid. Give him back.
I couldn't tell how much time had passed, but Dad was… somewhere. He sounded frantic, scared. That was strange from him. But nothing sounded clear until I was jerked forward and Vergil snarled right in front of me. "Did you let something take my son? What was it? Where is he!?"
If Vergil sounded scared too, then we were fucked.
As I tried to hiss an answer, another cough filled my mouth with blood. "J," was all I could manage instead.
"J? Are you insane?"
"Real," I spat. "Not human."
"Something's stopping him from healing," Dad cut in, sounding close. "Son, keep breathing. Hold on."
"What?" Vergil sounded as young as scared as his kid. "Why isn't he healing? Dante-"
They weren't supposed to be with me. I didn't matter. Even though I couldn't see, I knew they were in front of me, so I reached up until I felt something smooth like cloth, and I pushed against it with all the remaining strength I could summon. "Go get the kid," I forced out with what breath I had. As I struggled to gasp in more through the pain, I felt the soft weight of a forehead pressed to mine.
"I'll get him," Vergil whispered. "Don't you dare die, Brother."
His presence vanished, but Dad's remained as a comforting weight, a reminder that I was still alive. I tried to tell him to go too, but my words were fragments, and he breathed a soft shushing sound. "I will follow him," he said. "But right now I have to see to you. This will hurt. I do apologize, but stay with me. Your mother's getting a vital star for you."
It already hurt. I didn't think the pain could get any worse until Dad's hand jammed into the wound. My head cracked against the wall as I jerked back. "Sorry," he whispered around my choked whine. "I've got it. Hang on."
His hand yanked back, pulling something along with it that felt like a row of barbed wire. The air smelled of fire, and Dad hissed. "Damn. Damn it all."
"Oh my god," Mom said from further away. "Oh fuck, here! Dante, please be okay. Please." Tears choked her up. I hated when Mom cried. I wished I could have cracked some stupid joke to cheer her up or at least make her mad, but my world was a dark haze that tasted of blood.
"You're not going to like this," Dad said. Yeah, because everything else had been so enjoyable. "But it's good for you." Something hit my tongue before my jaw was forced shut. The familiar, glassy shattering of a vital star crunched between my teeth. Tasted like mouthwash and ass. As I fought and gagged, Dad held my mouth shut. "There you are." I could hear that smarmy grin in his voice. "Much better. You will heal fine."
"From what!?" Mom demanded. "What was that? Is that a feather!?"
My sight returned, blurry but coherent, just in time to watch Dad's smile vanish as he stared down at a glistening feather painted red with my blood. "Yes, from an angel," he said. "It's no wonder I couldn't sense the damned thing."
An angel. Huh. I'd never seen one. I could have done without, actually. With my lungs pulling themselves back together, I was able to take my first deep breath; then I promptly started coughing and hacking again. The inky substance spilled from my lips as Dad patted my back. "Quite literally damned, it seems," he muttered.
"Oh, great," Mom said, pacing the room and running her hands through her hair. Tears stained her face. "An angel. A fucking angel. And Vergil's going after it. Oh my god. Is he going to be okay? Is Nero going to be okay!? Dante?"
"Dante will mend. I will see to Vergil. I believe this angel is low in the hierarchy. The weaker ones mask their presence." His eyes softened with regret. "I should have realized sooner, but this is a strange case. The weak ones are not made to be warriors. They are protectors and usually benign."
"It took Nero!"
"Yes, it is losing its senses and reason." He pressed the tips of his fingers to a spot on my chest, swiping away a bit of the sludge. Beneath it, his skin was burnt to an ugly, blistered red. Burns healed slow, and I realized my chest must have looked the same from that feather. "This substance… the Angel is severing its connection. It's falling and won't be able to maintain itself. Please look after Dante. I must go." With that, his presence vanished as well.
"Be careful," Mom said to the empty air. With my eyes falling shut against my will, I only felt her collapse beside me. Trembling, she put her arms around me. "Everything's going to be okay."
I wondered which of us she was saying that for.
"I need to go too." I sounded like I'd gargled razors, but at least I could talk again, even if it was still like agony. "Got to get the kid. He was so scared. I have to save him."
She shushed me like Dad had. "Dante, just keep breathing for me right now, alright? Please, I need you to keep breathing. I thought you were dying. I thought you were gone."
It was still less painful to not breathe at all, but I forced my chest to rise and fall because I could hear her trying not to cry. I needed to heal, needed to get the kid back. If anything happened to him, I would never forgive myself.
None of us would.
I suppose I have some explaining to do.
