Author's Note: Alright, to clarify certain things that you people don't seem to understand.

1) Whether I've played and beaten DMC4 on all difficulties or not is none of your bloody business. Why do you care whether I'm a SSS player or just an average player who cares more about ENJOYING herself than S-ing every mission in every difficulty? That feels like turning a game into a chore and I dislike that. But in case you're wondering—yes, I've played all the games, watched the anime, read the manga, the comics and the novels, so I know the different canon(s). I choose to follow the games' canon and ignore the rest.

2) Why I don't like Nero is also none of your bloody business. Some of you like him, I (among others) don't and that's the end of the story. I know all the arguments supporting him but they still do not change my mind. I know all the benefits of eating spinach too, but I still hate the damn thing. Not liking Nero is not the reason I abused him in an earlier chapter. Vergil beat the shit out of him because Vergil was being Vergil and excuse me if I think Vergil would be pissed off to find that his sword was left to someone else. If I'd wanted to write a Nero-hate fic I would have. I just don't care about him.

3) For the love of whichever deity you owe your faith to: I do not hate Lady. The reason she's not in this story is because she has nothing to do with this plot! I have no plot-related reason for her to make any appearance what so ever (yet), therefore I did not put her in the story. It's that simple. There's no bigger plot of obsessive fangirl hate or something. Stop that. I may or may not write some follow-up stories after Crossfire, in which I have perfectly good reasons to include her. I never said I don't like Lady, I just wish she hadn't gotten a very obvious boob-job and worn whore clothing. In other words: I disagree with her DMC4 design, not her entirely.

4) The reason I don't like anonymous reviews much is because I have no chance to actually elaborate with you on the feedback you're giving me. I can't say thanks or ask you clarify a point of yours whose meaning I don't quite get—I can't even ask you to elaborate more on a topic that you brought up and I am interested in! Please, people. I am not going to eat you if you say something bad. I just want to be able to open a conversation with you rather than sit there and watch you talk.

Please…just stop making me out to be the bad guy here. I just want to tell a story.

Chapter IX

Beast in the Stone

Falling from great heights had become such a routine for Dante that he was comfortable enough during his fall to land smoothly on his feet, dropping to a knee from his momentum, with quite a loud thud.

Unfortunately, he wasn't exactly ready for the pile of debris that came right after him.

"Ah!" he blurted in surprise as a stone the size of his fist hit his head unexpectedly, before he even got a change to stand up properly.

Next was a pile of broken concrete, chipped and cracked masonry and some metal beams that plowed down as the hole he'd fallen through widened on its own, the weakened materials of some support beams crumbling from wear and the stress of his blows. They fell with a small avalanche of dust, burying him under enough rubble to make a small mound over him. That actually stung a little.

In his little space between the floor and the rubble, Dante coughed from the dust raised by the debris. He sighed, feeling uncomfortable by the pressure of the slab of concrete that had landed top of him. He looked at it and chuckled, pushing and lifting it as well as the rubble that rested on top of it, with both hands. The pile shifted with grinding sounds and with little effort, he threw it aside with a loud thud, like it was paper, raising even more dust. He got up with another dry cough and fanned the dust away from him with his hand. He sighed in irritation, shook dust off his hair and standing straight, smacked his hands all over his clothes, trying to get rid of the dirt and dust from it.

"Man, what a bad habit these guys have, ruining my threads," he sighed, then finally got a better look at where he'd ended up.

He'd landed in a large, wide basement gallery which further enforced the notion that this place must have been a museum at some point in time, possibly once holding a precious collection of valuable statues. Now it was filled with only dust, mould that clung to the plaster on the walls, scraps of wooden crates, old and broken furniture and some abandoned tools scattered about. There were no windows on the walls, only skylights that opened into a vast atrium above, their elaborate glass structures now shattered and gone. They were boarded up and only little light came through the cracks between the boards.

The stonemasonry floor was in relatively good condition, but the walls were showing cracks and some of their brick inner works and the arched ceiling's plaster decorations were half melted from moisture.

He approached Rebellion which had fallen out of his grasp a few meters away from him and picked it up, placing it on his back again, looking around. He fixed his gaze at the far end of the gallery. He raised an eyebrow and approached that side.

There stood a massive, completely still form. At first glance it looked like a statue that was left behind due to its sheer size, but upon closer inspection, Dante realized it looked oddly familiar. A large feline form, almost five meters tall and twice as long, with a bulky built, three pairs of horns on its head, one of which curled gently up-wards like an antelope's, another curved straight back and the third curling down and then to the front, like a ram's. The head and neck were covered by a richly carved mane made with deep relief that gave it a life-like appearance. It had nearly reptilian scale plates on its legs and a long, powerful-looking tail with a large tuft of hair on its end.

It was frozen in a life-like pose, poised along the wall, one flank against the stone, as if it were trying to circle an opponent that had cornered it. It lifted its left front leg off the ground in a gesture eager to lunge, with its claws pushed out aggressively. The rest of its legs were tensed, the muscles captured in their impatient tremble. Its head was slightly lower than the shoulders, jaws half open in a silent snarl and snout wrinkled in fury. Its left eye was shut in a nasty-looking grimace and a large scar, while the remaining eye was peeled open, completing the aggressive look on its face. It looked angry and yet at the same time, in great pain.

As he approached the old statue, a smirk formed on his face and he took his hands to his waist, stopping in front of it. He looked at it up and down, stopping at its face and scoffed at the improbability of the whole thing. No wonder they couldn't find him.

"If you weren't a statue, I'd say you look like a big, old coot I used to know," he said, musing the statue for only a moment before shrugging and turning around to leave, about to ignore it.

As he turned to leave, there was a slight gritty, creaking sound, like two large rocks rubbing against each other. Some dust and stone particles seemed to fall from the dark-colored statue and the ground under it shook a little, as if the creature had shuddered.

As he heard the sound, Dante stopped in his steps, smirking. He didn't turn around immediately, but turned his head back, looking at the statue through the corner of his eyes. The silent statue had settled again, but it seemed to be staring at him.

"Huh, so you still got some kick, eh?" he said, smirking and then turning to leave again, but then something else caught his attention, which he had not noticed earlier, on the statue's front right paw.

What looked like a metal wedge or sword was plunged deep in the stone, the blade disappearing nearly entirely into the rock. It was dark colored, made of plain iron with a triangular hand-guard and covered with strange runes circling around it in a spiraling motion. The portion jutting out of the stone was a little longer than his hand and had a crude hilt; it was made of a solid piece of cast iron and there was very little indication of any joints or soldering.

It was stuck deeply into the top side of the paw, passing through where tendons, bone and muscles of the paw would be in a living creature. The stone around it was slightly cracked, and through the cracks a nauseating, black sheen was visible under the stone. It looked horribly like a wound.

"Well, what do we have here…?" he said negligently, approaching the statue again. He looked up at it more closely and then at the sword.

There was another small shudder, fainter this time, as if a creature inside the statue was trembling, almost as if recognizing his approach. The cracks near the wedge lengthened a little bit.

Dante's eyebrow raised and he shrugged and sighed a bit as he took his hand to the sword's hilt. It resisted, but he gripped tightly and finally pulled it out of the statue with one swift movement. He stared at the statue expectantly for a moment, but nothing happened. He looked at the sword up and down, then back at the statue and then tossed the sword-like object behind his back, uninterested and about to leave.

"Guess I was wrong…" he thought, disappointed, turning to leave.

The statue was motionless for another moment, but then with a loud grinding sound, cracks started spreading on its surface. Dante stopped and faced it again. It shuddered more violently, pieces of rock chipping off and falling on the floor with thuds and crashes. The shuddering turned into fully fledged motion as the being inside the rock freed its limbs, starting with the tail that broke out of the stone shell and swished in a nervous manner. Then the raised leg thudded down angrily. Its hind legs shuffled a bit as it shook rock off them, raising its head slowly, shaking it to break the stone off with grunts and finally stood straight, throwing its head up and letting a long, majestic roar while its coat showed to be a dark sandy color, its mane darker and its single eye a bright amber.

It growled once, looking dazed and lowering its head with a throaty groan, looking down at him before letting another throaty sound, like a sharp cough and stumbled to the side, its flank hitting the wall with a hollow sound and it seemed to dissolve into sand.

The next thing he knew, Dante was staring at a lanky, tall man in his late forties through the settling dust, leaning against the wall and trying to hold himself upright with one arm against the wall and the other hand over his face, panting. He recognized him instantly and laughed a bit, pleased that his guess had been right and that the old geezer was still alive.

"So that's where you've been, Furball!" he said cheerfully.

"Ha-ha-ha, I see your humor is contemptuous as ever, Dante," the man wheezed mirthlessly, still winded, with an accent faintly British. "I'd love to see you stuck in rock for 4 years, you little smartass. Ten years go by and I can already tell you haven't grown up a day."

Dante chuckled at his comment, eying him up and down as the man leaned his back against the wall, panting still. Dante shook his head a bit; Roy looked a little shabbier and worn than the last time Dante had seen him. Being trapped in stone certainly had taken its toll on the shape-shifting djinn, formerly known as Abraxas, a djinn of the deserts. He was never a large man, but Dante could see he had certainly lost a lot of weight, in an abrupt, unhealthy way and his skin was paler. His face looked more wrinkled when he looked up, even though Dante was fairly sure djinns aged much slower than humans, he looked unnervingly older. On top of that, Roy's left eye had indeed never healed since the demon attack that took it and he still had the scar.

"I hate to admit this," the man-shaped djinn added, "but damn, am I glad to see you, boy," he went on with a small smirk as he let his head touch the wall he was leaning against.

Dante shook his head with a similar smirk and approached him. "Nice to see you still got it, crazy old man."

He frowned a bit at the sight of Roy's scarred eye. Given the fact that Roy had survived the demon attack that had done that, Dante had half-expected him to recover fully from that and get his sight back. "Still missing an eye and turned to stone? You've been hanging out with the rough crowd; who the hell did this to you?"

Roy was still leaning against the wall, obviously tired. He brought his hand to his forehead, shutting his remaining eye briefly. "Those stupid coven witches!" he snarled. He had his other arm pressed over his ribs. He looked rather pitiful under the baggy work-trousers and wrinkled button-down shirt.

"They ambushed me, damn wiccan guard-dogs, forced me to fight 'em off and then got me with a binding stake. If I ever get my hands on them--Damn wretches, just couldn't swallow the idea that someone disagreed with them!" he went on with another grunt, shaking his head and pressing his hand against his forehead and then looked at Dante up and down.

"So the brat's grown into a man, hah," he scoffed, eying Dante's stubble. "Still look like a punk, but guess I can't expect much from you. You look good," he went on, giving Dante a negligent pat on the arm. "Where's Tess? I'm a little surprised she hasn't come looking for me; guess she don't need her old cat anymore...Or did she finally call you just for my sake?"

Dante frowned, but this time it was quite bitter. Roy's spontaneous comment gave away that the familiar had no idea of what had happened in the four years that he was encased in stone. It looked as though Tess had abandoned him too.

"Huh," he scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm this close to insulting that... witch of yours, Roy; four years without your ass around and she switches sides. Unless she did that before she dumped you to the wolves."

Roy's head jerked up, looking at Dante, alarmed. "What?!" he gasped. "What the hell are you talking about?!" he asked, flabbergast. "If this is your idea of a ridiculous joke--"

"Ain't a joke, old man. I'll break it down for you; first of all she changed her name and said she didn't recognize me, then took off like a high-strung shrew. When I saw her again she explained nothing and even demanded that I haul ass outta here! She went on about it with the lamest 'none of your business' excuse I've ever heard."

Roy stared at him as Dante went on, looking surprised—if not shocked. "Wha--that's...I don't understand. I mean, yes, she changed her name to keep the coven from getting to her, but why the heck would she lie to you?" he muttered, looking into space blankly and rubbing his forehead. "I don't understand. The coven...they can't have done something to her--where is she?" he demanded, looking anxious now.

Dante folded his arms over his chest. He didn't want to mention that a demon had swept her up—let alone that he shot her—just yet. "No idea where she is, but she admitted she killed this woman--Regina, or something."

Roy looked alarmed and nearly jumped up straight. "Regina is dead!?" he croaked. "That's absurd--she didn't like Tess but why on earth would Tess--no, no, that's impossible!" he said, shaking his head. "I won't believe that!"

Dante shrugged. "Your call old man, I'm only telling you what happened."

Roy, now standing straight and having taken a step away from the wall, looked more distraught than ever. He even jerked his arm to the side, angrily. "You're lying!"

Dante frowned, narrowing his eyes a bit. "Why would I lie to an old coot like you who hasn't been around in years, huh?" he said sharply.

Roy glared at him warily with his single eye, clutching his fists. "Hell if I know, but that's not the point now! Where is Tess?!" he barked, reminding Dante of the last time he'd seen Roy this frustrated, almost a decade ago. "She'd never do that--she'd never turn to the Void Path!"

Dante remembered that term; that was the way witches who surrendered their selves to demons willingly wound up taking. He recalled Tess' deep disgust at the idea and witches who had done so. However, what he had seen just a while ago was making him feel like the past was nothing more than just a past. "Dunno about that , but if you're so sure that something fishy is going on, better stick with me. Maybe for once we agree on something."

"You, agree with me?!" Roy snapped with a deadpan look. "You've just told me that she's turned on you! You think I can trust you after all you've said, brat!?" he snapped, his face wrinkling in an angry expression. "For all I know, you're the last who saw her! What on earth happened!?"

"She's been sticking with demons, that's what," Dante said, almost snapping and already feeling irritated at Roy's attitude. "She nearly admitted it--Hell, one of them even came to her rescue when I shot 'er--" he stopped abruptly at that last bit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He already regretted doing that in the first place and he wasn't sure how Roy would take that.

Roy's eye peeled wide and his face contorted to an angry grimace at that statement. "You WHAT?!" he barked, interrupting him. "You shot her—are you insane ?!" he went on, finally advancing towards him in a menacing manner.

Dante stood his ground "I didn't like it either, but she was crazy, man!"

Roy was suddenly lunging at him, out of his mind with fury. "You stupid idiot!! I should gut you for that!!"

The next thing he knew Roy was filling his line of sight, having suddenly changed into his full djinn form. Dante had never actually faced Roy—or rather, Abraxas—in a real situation, neither had he ever seen the djinn display all his brute force before, so there was no telling what to expect. The beast rammed him before he could react, slamming a paw into his chest and knocking him down. Dante grunted softly from the force of impact and his back thudding on the ground. Abraxas pressed Dante on the floor with his paw on the demon hunter's chest, as if he were a mouse, while his claws were just inches from Dante's head.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you here and now, boy!!" Abraxas' large snout snarled, inches away from his face. It was obvious he was barely restraining himself from attempting to tear Dante's head off. "You have the nerve to turn on her and then tell me so coolly!? You forget just who the hell you're dealing with!"

Dante sighed. Abraxas had certainly had hit harder than he had expected, and the pressure on his chest was enough to make him feel uncomfortable. Still, he could feel from the impact that Abraxas was holding back; Dante knew the djinn well enough to know that he was surely having doubts. That meant that Abraxas half-believed him and for one thing, Dante knew that the familiar was too intelligent to let himself to be driven by his paternal –almost- feelings for Tess. Besides, Dante himself had a couple of memories all too fond of the old familiar to keep a sincere grudge towards him.

So, he only responded with a chuckle, though a rather irritated one. Being thrown around so much was getting more on his nerves than usual—but Abraxas had always held his cards close to his chest and even though four years as a stone statue had taken their toll on the beast, Dante could tell he was more formidable than he looked. The last thing they both needed was a big fight.

"Look, you old fuzzball, no overgrown cat is ever gonna kill me. Like you said, I'm all grown up now and you don't wanna piss me off. Come on, get your act together and take that paw offa' me."

Abraxas stared down at him as his angry, wrinkled snout relaxed and he merely breathed loudly, his nostrils flaring. "Really now, why should I do that?" he said sharply.

Dante sighed. "Listen old man, if I know Tess at all, after these last ten years…she's been acting weird," he said, completely seriously. "Yeah, she's gone crazy but I think she's tryin' to tell me something. Something's way off here and I got a feeling that she's been used and can't do anything about it."

Abraxas' eye narrowed, a little. He was considering things. "Then why did you shoot her?" he asked, very calmly.

Dante clenched his jaw a bit. He had felt the pressure on his chest lessening. The familiar was giving him leeway—like he always did. Abraxas, Roy…the old man hadn't really changed after all. He still trusted Dante and he was waiting for an answer that proved the trust wasn't being wasted.

"She wanted a way out," he said, honestly, with a face absolutely straight. "I know her, okay? She wanted out so bad that she made me do it. I don't know why I went with it; I guess it's 'cuz I didn't want her getting stuck there—but she's not dead."

Dante smiled faintly. "There's no way that Twig's dead just yet."

Abraxas growled a little, still glaring down at him for a moment, his eye shutting and then opening to gaze at him quietly. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts and keeping his head level, after Dante's reactions diffused his initial wrath and made him think of what he was doing.

"You think she's still going, eh?" he grunted, sounding irritated and his tail swished from side to side angrily.

Dante just nodded. He could only nod, because he was mostly convincing himself that she really hadn't died, because a shot from his guns ever only meant death.

"C'mon, now get off me, you big pussy cat," he scoffed.

"Oh shut that trap of yours," Abraxas snapped back.

Abraxas breathed heavily through the nose a couple of times, then the pressure on Dante's chest relaxed completely, then almost hesitantly, the djinn pulled back his paw and in a frustrated manner turned around with a throaty grunt of anger. When Dante got to his feet, Roy was back to his human form, his back to Dante and his head lowered, hands on his waist. He seemed devastated and his shoulders were nearly shaking.

Dante knew all too well that Roy really adored Tess, like a daughter almost, since he had practically raised her. He wasn't all that surprised from the old djinn's reactions.

"I know," Roy said in a dry manner. "That girl's…too stubborn to die just like that. If something is wrong with her—nevermind, I'm coming with you."

He turned around and retrieved a pair of narrow, dark sunglasses from his shirt's pocket, which he put on to conceal the scar on his eye. "But don't underestimate me again, brat," he added with a slight smirk, like he used to do in the old times. "I don't care if you kicked Mundus' rear; I was fighting beings as big as him before you even started existing!" he chuckled, a little tiredly. "I'm still queasy—but once we're done with this shit, I'll show you old."

Dante cackled. Yes, Roy certainly had lost neither his own sense of humor, nor his fickle pride. "You got a deal, pop."

"Oh don't start with that, I'm not that old!" Roy protested. "Now, serious business: Tell me what happened. You said Regina is dead, did Tess kill her?"

Dante shook his head, shrugging. "Hey I don't think it's time for interrogations, old man, we gotta go find Tess."

"No, no, hold your horses. This is not a direct issue; unless we know what's going on, we can't act. I'm not going to let you be reckless when Tess' life is on the line," he said strictly.

"Fine, okay. Yeah, I think Tess killed that lady, why?"

Roy nodded, pleased. "If anyone could ever kill that big bitch, that'd be Tess," he said gruffly, making Dante raise an eyebrow and smirk at his expression.

"Hmph, impressed I'm mouthing off like this? Well I'll tell you, Regina was playing coy and matronly but you wouldn't find such a dictator like her anywhere. The High Priestess in a coven is meant to be a simple guide, an interpreter of traditions, not a political or religious leader. She used her position selfishly and abused her authority, surrounding herself with loyalists. What's worse, she reverted things to the older, more conservative form of the creed."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "How's that bad?"

"It dates back to the Middle Ages, that's what! Back when wiccans were on the run from the Inquisition and what have you. Such a rigid creed has absolutely no goddamn bearing today—it's not needed! You can't go and control people on a mere whim," Roy explained. "That's why Tess clashed with her so much, she didn't accept that creed."

Dante whistled a little. "That why you got bumped off, old man?"

"Yes. Regina always thought Tess would eventually take her position. As a descendant of the founding High Priestess it's a sort of right she could claim. That's why Regina had me disposed of, to take power away from Tess," he explained, shaking his head. "Poor delusional fool! Tess didn't give a dime about that sort of thing. But that's not the point. Regina wouldn't have attacked Tess unprovoked and Tess wouldn't have attacked her just like that—"

"But she would if someone had ordered her…" Dante suggested.

Roy frowned, shaking his head in denial. "Still…Was Regina killed inside the coven grounds?"

"I think so, why?"

"That complicates things. Tell me what happened during the shooting, what she did. It's important."

Dante told him, in brief, what had passed. Roy listened without comments, only nodding or shaking his head occasionally. Suddenly he interrupted him, right when Dante said how Tess fell and Vergil showing up.

"Vergil! Your brother?!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah," Dante replied sourly. "He's in on this. I thought that after Arkham, he'd learned his lesson about using others but I guess I was wrong."

"Oh dear, that changes everything," Roy said.

"I know. This ain't about Tess, never really was. It's my damn brother and whatever obsession he's got this time. It's about the two of us. Tess is caught in the crossfire."

Roy nodded. "Yes. But you mentioned a book. Did you notice anything about that book?"

Dante shrugged. "Was old."

"That's all?! Oh come on, use that head of yours! I told you a thousand times when you were a brat to use your noggin! Think!" Roy blurted angrily.

Dante grimaced at the old man's lecturing. Roy hadn't changed in that manner either. "Had a black cover, I dunno."

Roy tensed and gesticulated. "Black leather, about this big, no distinct bind but with a large iron pentagram stuck to the front, am I right?"

Dante looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Spot on. How the hell'd you know that? What book is that?"

"It's called the Tome of Rites," Roy explained with a very serious look. "It's the coven's most closely guarded secret. That book explains everything. Tess no doubt was ordered to get that book out of the coven and Regina got in her way. There's no way in hell that Regina would let Tess walk away with that book."

"Why, what's the fuss with that thing?" Dante asked, tilting his head to the side.

"The Tome of Rites has a long and bloody history. It was given to wiccans by demons, supposedly as a gift, but its contents are so powerful and tempting yet so horrible that it leaves only misery and ruin in its wake," he said seriously. "I've never seen it myself but I know it contains rites and ceremonies of immense power. They're incredibly dangerous and God knows what might happen now that Vergil's got them."

"Fuck," Dante blurted. "This isn't just his mania with the Underworld. If he's messing with wiccan stuff then I've got no idea what he's up to! I don't even know how the hell he survived or what he did all this time."

Roy interrupted him again with a hasty tone. "Doesn't matter, I have a pretty good idea. Tell me something: Is it possible that Vergil was ever associated with any other demon?"

The memory still pained Dante. But he swallowed his feelings down and answered steadily. "Yeah, Mundus. I think he was brainwashed or something."

"Then that must be why he needs the Tome of Rites. If he's trying to break himself away from Mundus' influence, he's planning to use the power of that book's ceremonies."

Dante's eyes widened as he realized where Roy was getting at. "He's using Tess," he said in a dry, shocked manner.

"Exactly. You remember, don't you?"

Dante brought his hand to his forehead. Of course he remembered. From his time with them he knew that wiccan powers couldn't affect demons in certain ways, like cleansing or charms because wiccan and demon powers tended to 'reject' each other. But Tess, whose father had been a changeling, blurred that line. She could affect demons. Hell, she'd saved his sanity back then like that.

"Yeah, I remember," he said through clenched teeth, tightening his fist. He felt incredibly angry at Vergil now. He'd duped him again and to make things worse, he'd gone and involved Tess. "She gonna be in danger if she does it, won't she?"

"In grave danger, I dare say," Roy said with a grave expression. "We've got to find her before he does. Or before she gets back to him. Come on, I know how to get out of here."

He turned and walked quickly to the other end of the gallery, where he'd been petrified and Dante followed him, where a door could be seen on the far wall.

"And just how on earth did you happen upon all this? Did Tess send you some message?" Roy asked as he forced the door open with a mighty kick that sent it flying off its hinges.

"No, some guy called me here," Dante explained, frustrated.

"Some guy!?" Roy blurted as they quickly climbed a long set of stairs to the ground floor. "Did you actually meet him?"

"Yeah. Said his name was Ricardo or something—"

Roy actually stopped on the stairs and looked at him, shocked. "Ricardo!? Ricardo De Castro!? He's alive!?"

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Why, what about the guy? Said he was Tess' boyfriend or whatever."

Roy's eye was wide and his expression shocked. "My boy, that's impossible!" he exclaimed. "Ricardo was involved with Tess for some time but when that Portuguese moron proposed she turned him down. And then the idiot went and died, five years ago! His tuberculosis got him!"

Dante frowned, realizing that the trap had been real. "Then what's he doing alive here and now, calling me to tell me Tess is in—"

He stopped and he and Roy stared at each other meaningfully. They were making the same thought.

"He's part of the plan. He's in with Vergil," Dante said, then slammed his fist on the wall beside him, cracking and denting it. "Fuck. Tess was right. She was the bait on the lure and I just fucking swallowed the hook," he thought to himself.

"Come on, this is no time to get angry. We've got to back to the coven," Roy said, seizing Dante's arm and tugging him.

Dante followed him again. "Why? What's the point goin' there? We gotta find Tess!"

"Do you have any idea where to look?!" Roy snapped back. "No, trust me. We need to get back there and find out more. If we have any way of tracking Tess down, that's where we gotta start. I'm afraid this isn't going to be entirely familiar ground for you, my boy. You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Dante huffed, dropping his shoulders a little; he knew Roy had a good point. He was well-informed about demons but when it came to affairs involving wiccans, he was in the dark and this clearly was a bad combination of both.