Nero hadn't intended to sleep as long or as soundly as he did. When he blinked back to groggy awareness, the sun had already painted slanting stripes across the room, indicating that it was well past noon. He swore under his breath and rubbed his gritty eyes with one hand.

"I didn't mean to disturb you."

Nero jolted fully awake and twisted toward the other side of the bed to see Vergil sitting with his shoulders pressed against the headboard. His eyes were closed, but at least he was vertical. "Hey, you're awake!" Nero rolled upright. "How do you feel?"

"I've had better days." Vergil's voice was rough, no doubt strained by the hour of screaming. His eyes opened fractionally, but he didn't look at Nero. "I suppose I've also had worse ones."

Right. Conversations with Vergil were always an exercise in frustration. "Don't be too specific, or anything."

Vergil's eyes closed again. "Had I words sufficient to describe my condition, I would do so."

Nero thought that sounded relatively tetchy, coming from Vergil, so he must be closer to the "worse days" end of that scale. Which, considering what he'd been through that morning, was understandable. "Okay, we'll just stick to the basics. What sounds good? Food? Drink? Aspirin?"

"Water," Vergil answered. He opened his eyes again and frowned down at his body, still wrapped in Nero's threadbare bathrobe. "Both inside and out. I should like to avail myself of your shower, if I may."

"Avail away. I'll bring you some clothes." Nero hesitated. "You good to walk downstairs, or you want some help?"

Vergil didn't validate the offer with a response, but his expression made it clear that even if he were missing both legs, he would find a way to manage the stairs on his own.


The shower was running by the time Nero went downstairs. He opened the bathroom door just far enough to deposit the promised clothing on the counter before moving to Lady's bedroom and knocking.

"It's open," she called. Nero entered, and Lady yawned as she swung her feet to the floor. "Sorry, I guess I was really out for a while. How's the patient? Do you need help?"

"The patient is in the shower, and is evidently back to his usual self. By which I mean I have this constant low-key desire to punch him in the face."

"Already? Wow, he really must have made a full recovery." Lady smoothed her sleep-mussed hair with her fingers. "I can't wait to have a chat with the old Vergil again. I do that whenever I'm not feeling up to a job. He's so motivating."

Nero looked at her askance. "Motivating?"

"Five minutes in a room with him, and suddenly I can't wait to go kill something." Her mocking smile faded. "Though now, knowing what he went through… I suppose it might take a little longer to get angry with him. I doubt he ever got much mileage out of acting like a decent human being, so it's not surprising he's out of practice."

"Yeah, I get that." Nero leaned against the doorjamb. "I mean, what he did was seriously jacked up, but then, so was his life, you know? Not that that justifies his actions, but…"

"But it helps explain them." Lady nodded slowly. "He was a good kid, before Mundus and all hell crashed into his life. He didn't start out the way he is."

"Kinda makes you wonder what they would have been like if none of it had happened. Him and Dante, both." Nero smiled faintly. "Dante once joked that Vergil would have been on stage if he weren't obsessed with fighting. Only… maybe it wasn't a joke. Maybe that's what he wanted to do, when he was a kid."

"You mean playing violin?" Lady considered it. "You know, I think I could see him doing that. Zaffiro, I mean. Not Vergil."

"Yeah, it's hard to picture Vergil doing anything other than… what he does. Whatever that actually is." The sound of the shower cut off, and Nero leaned out to glance down the hall. "Speak of the devil. Half-devil." He turned back to Lady. "You want some lunch? I doubt Vergil will admit to being hungry, but he hasn't eaten in more than twenty-four hours."

"I could eat." Lady yawned again and stood. "I could also murder a cup of coffee. You want one?"

"Given how hard we both crashed, I think a whole pot is in order."

They relocated to the kitchen and began scraping together lunch. A few minutes later, Vergil appeared in the doorway, damp hair slicked back a little flatter than usual. "Welcome back." Lady held up a mug of coffee. "Want one?"

Vergil shook his head, and belatedly Nero recalled his earlier request. He filled a glass from the cold tap and set it on the counter. "There's ice in the freezer if you want."

"This is fine. Thank you." Vergil picked up the glass and drained it.

"And there's more water in the faucet," Nero added. "Lunch is almost ready. You like olives, right?"

Vergil nearly concealed his surprise, but a single blink slipped through. "Yes."

"Thought so. Lady?"

"It depends. What kind of olives?"

"Castelvetrano."

She squinted. "Those aren't the weird purple ones, are they?"

Nero laughed. "You're probably thinking of Kalamata, and those are Greek." He held up a bright green olive. "We eat proper Italian olives here. You want to try one before I lace your food with them?"

"No, I'll live dangerously."

"Suit yourself." Nero added a handful of chopped olives to the bowl of raw egg and grated cheese before pouring the mixture over the pasta he'd just drained. He whisked everything together and portioned it out onto three plates. "Linguini carbonara senza pancetta con le olive," he announced as he slid the plates onto the table. "Also known as, 'Nero's cooking and we're out of bacon.'"

"Well, it smells good, with or without bacon." Lady picked out an olive and sampled it. "Okay, Dante's officially on the wrong side of the great olive debate. What kind did you say these were?"

"Castelvetrano. You can buy them almost anywhere."

"Good. I'm going to sneak some onto his next pizza and see if he notices."

Vergil emitted a huff of laughter. "Living dangerously, indeed."

Nero and Lady both turned toward him in surprise. Vergil pretended not to notice their reactions, and Nero quickly shifted his attention back to his plate. He didn't want to make Vergil feel any more awkward than he probably already did. "So now that you're up and moving, is everything back to normal? You got all your memories back?"

"As far as I'm aware. Though I'm not sure I'd know if I hadn't."

"What about the, uh, last three months? Living here?" Nero poked at an olive with his fork. "You still remember any of that?"

"I do." Vergil paused to sip more water, then stared pensively into his glass. "Though the last few days are… less distinct."

Nero caught Lady's eye across the table in a visual I-told-you-so. Pretending he couldn't recall the trauma he'd suffered in returning to his adult self conveniently allowed Vergil to dodge any uncomfortable questions about it. "Yeah, getting your memories back probably just shook things up a little. Don't worry, you didn't miss anything important."

Nero wasn't sure, but he thought he could detect a trace of relief on Vergil's face. "Presumably the same method can be used to restore Dante's age."

"Provided we can get more of those shards. And that might take some doing, considering how long it took to get the ones we used on you."

"It should be easier next time, with one more fighter in our party." Lady's eyes shifted to Vergil. "That is, assuming you're willing to lend a hand?"

"Of course," he replied. Lady seemed to have expected some resistance on that front, and regarded Vergil with a gleam of suspicion in her eyes. He ignored the look and neatly twined a strand of pasta around his fork. "I have a score to settle, after all."

"Ah." Lady's smile was frigid. "Naturally, that takes precedence over helping your brother."

"The two objectives are not mutually exclusive."

Nero didn't like the sudden tension permeating the atmosphere between them, but he wasn't entirely sure how to alleviate it. "Don't forget we still have to track the damn thing down. Until we do, Dante's gonna be stuck as Tony."

Lady returned her attention to her own plate. "Well, there are worse things he could be. At least he's relatively safe here—safer than he would be as an adult, anyway. And Dante is kind of cute as a ten-year-old."

Vergil flicked an eyebrow. "If we gauge by maturity level, I'm not sure there's any discernible difference."

"Ouch." Nero grimaced. "I kinda feel like somebody ought to defend him, but I'm not sure you're wrong."

"Well, maturity aside, he's certainly of more use at an age where he can wield a sword, so we should endeavor to take back what the Nilepoch drained from him as quickly as possible."

Vergil's inflection on the demon's name was slightly different than the way Nero and the others had been pronouncing it, which snagged Nero's attention; it meant he hadn't picked up the word by overhearing it from them. Casting his memory back over the last few minutes of conversation, Nero didn't think they'd even spoken it aloud.

Lady had caught the distinct pronunciation, too. She stared at Vergil in plain surprise. "You know the demon that did this?"

He nodded. "I've seen them before."

"In the underworld?"

Vergil fixed her with a look. "As opposed to the local supermarket?"

"One never knows, where you're concerned." Lady's eyes narrowed. "I'm starting to lose track of exactly how many cities you've turned into hellgates."

Nero threw up a hand. "Time out! You both know the house rules about bickering at the table, so at least wait until after we're done eating to go for each other's throats." There were no specific rules about bickering, but he doubted either of them would challenge him on it. "So, what, are there herds of wild Nilepochs running around loose in the underworld?" He automatically mimicked Vergil's inflection; after all, he'd only seen the word in print, and he had to assume Vergil-the-multilingual was a more reliable source than his own best guess at how it was pronounced.

"Only a few, and not loose." He hesitated, though the pause was so brief Nero wasn't sure if he'd imagined it before Vergil was speaking again. "The former emperor of the underworld—Mundus—kept them to intimidate, and sometimes punish, his subordinates."

"Mundus, huh?" Nero glanced at Lady and saw her mirroring his frown. "I'm surprised Trish didn't know what kind of demon it was, then."

The tines of Vergil's fork struck the plate a little more forcefully as he jabbed another olive. "No doubt she was never subjected to a display of its abilities. After all, a ruler need not waste effort intimidating his most loyal sycophants."

Nero thought that assumption might have backfired on Mundus, considering Trish's betrayal of her creator, but he kept those thoughts to himself. "So do you know anything else about them? We found them mentioned in a couple of books, but there wasn't a lot of detail. What more can you tell us?"

Vergil's brow creased. "Not much that would be of any strategic use. I saw them rarely, and never had opportunity to fight one. Its attack was not usually lethal on its own, but even powerful devils could be weakened by it almost to the point of death."

Nero nodded. "We saw what it did to a lesser demon. And it is lethal to humans. The bastard's already killed about a dozen people that we know of."

"That's hardly surprising. Whatever mechanism it uses to drain demons of their vitality would doubtless have a different effect on human physiology."

Nero suppressed a sigh. He wasn't surprised that Vergil could speak of the loss of human life with such clinical detachment, considering how many innocent deaths the man had to his account, but it was still disheartening. "The tricky thing is predicting when it will show up again. As long as it was coming back to feed on that Riot we had caged up, we knew when to expect it. But now we have no idea what it's eating since we fought it. Plus, it's been injured, and there's no telling how that will affect the cycle."

"Within reasonable distance, I should be able to sense its presence," Vergil said. "And Trish is still here, is she not?"

"Yeah, she's with Kyrie and the kids. They'll be back tomorrow."

Vergil nodded. "Then whenever it appears, we should be able to triangulate its location."

Lady raised an eyebrow. "Don't you usually need three points to triangulate?"

Vergil's eyes slid to Nero, who fervently hoped that the warmth he could feel creeping up his neck didn't reach his face. "Oh," Vergil said after a few seconds.

Nero shoved the last bite of pasta into his mouth and willed away the embarrassment he felt at not being quite devil enough to fit into his father's plans. It was an absurd feeling, anyway; he knew he was one of the best hunters in the business even without the ability to sense demons. He did pretty damn well for being three-quarters human. He stood and gathered his dishes. "Everybody finished?"

"I'll get the dishes," Lady offered, taking her own plate to the sink.

"You don't have to—"

"You cooked, I'll clean. Standard trade-off. Now hand it over before you have to explain to Kyrie that the reason you have a boot-shaped bruise on your backside is from me kicking you out of the kitchen."

Nero rolled his eyes, but surrendered his plate. "Yes, ma'am."

Lady extended her hand to Vergil. "You too, sunshine." Vergil drained the last of the water in his glass and let her take his dishes. "Now if you two want something to do, you might start working on how you're going to explain Zaffiro's disappearance to the rest of the kids when they get back. Because I have no idea what to tell them."

"That makes two of us," Nero sighed. He wandered out to the living room as he pondered the question. Vergil followed him, which was to be expected; the house was small enough that there really wasn't anywhere else he could go. The children's bedroom hardly suited him now. "Hey, if you want to rest, you can use our bedroom." Or was that assuming too much? "Or the boys' room. Wherever you want."

Vergil glanced around the room, taking it in from a higher altitude. "I've rested sufficiently."

"Yeah, I guess we all sort of crashed for a while this morning." Nero sat in the armchair to stop himself from fidgeting. For all the energy and effort and anxiety he'd expended to get his father back to normal, he was at a complete loss as to what to say to the man now that they were in the same room. In many ways, Zaffiro had been easier to relate to.

Zaffiro, he realized abruptly, had also been far less unsettling to see occupying Nero's living space. Zaffiro-the-child had never injured Nero and left him for dead, never manipulated and deceived him, never fought him or mocked him or belittled his existence. Vergil-the-man had done all that, and more.

And now Vergil-the-man was sitting at the far end of the couch, in the precise spot where Zaffiro had so often curled up with a book—only now the space seemed too cramped for his full-sized body. His adult proportions dwarfed the decorative pillows Zaffiro had once napped on, and his long legs extended beneath the coffee table. His presence seemed to loom, a cold shadow spreading over the cozy living room. Perhaps the experience was strange for him, as well; he seemed distracted, brushing at his slacks and running a hand down the front of his dark turtleneck.

The silence was grating. Nero was just about to make an attempt at conversation when Vergil said, "Nero."

Nero's pulse quickened. It was irrational, and he hated it. "Yeah?"

"These clothes…"

Oh. Nero swallowed. "Yeah, they're yours. I brought them from the shop when I came back."

"I see. That was optimistic of you."

It took Nero a moment to work out his meaning. "Uh, no, not really. I didn't realize what had happened to you and Dante until I got back to Fortuna."

Vergil frowned. "But you were at the factory with us."

"Yeah, and I spent the next few days unconscious. Nico's the one who found you two and brought you here."

"Unconscious? Strange; I didn't sense any significant demonic presence besides the Nilepoch. What attacked you?"

Nero resisted the urge to laugh, though there was nothing humorous about it. "You don't remember launching me across the room?"

"I… moved you out of its line of attack, yes." His expression smoothed, and Nero wondered what emotion the mask was hiding this time. "Approaching from multiple angles was our best strategy against it."

"Yeah." Nero did laugh then, leaning forward with elbows on his knees. "For future reference, when you fling somebody who's seventy-five percent human head-first into a concrete wall, it kinda breaks their skull a little bit."

Even Vergil's practiced mask could not conceal the widening of his eyes. "Oh. That… was not my intent."

"I certainly hope not. Because as a battle plan, putting your own team members into a coma kinda sucks."

The muscles around Vergil's mouth tightened. "I'm… sorry." The words seemed to cost him something more than they should have. Perhaps apologizing in any form was a blow to his pride. "For injuring you."

Nero shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "I survived." It was cruel, perhaps, to deny him the response he was asking for, but Nero wasn't about to grant his father anything that could be construed as forgiveness for another time that Vergil had nearly killed him. The factory incident might honestly have been an error in judgment; tearing off his arm was another matter entirely.

Vergil showed no reaction to his words, but that, too, was to be expected. He glanced down at his clothing again as though Nero's near-death experience had been a mere aside in the conversation. "So if you didn't know we were here…"

"I borrowed them." Nero threw the words down like a gauntlet. "I was staying at the shop while I recuperated and needed something to wear."

"I see."

"Hope you don't mind."

"No."

"I mean, it's not like you were around to ask—"

"I don't mind." Vergil's words were mild and, as far as Nero could detect, sincere.

"Good. Okay." Nero had anticipated… something, even if he wasn't sure what, and now his unrealized agitation set the demonic energy at his core fizzing. Damn, he wanted to fight something right now. Was this what Lady had meant about Vergil being good for her motivation?

"But you didn't borrow anything from Dante, did you?" Vergil asked suddenly.

"Uh, that would require Dante to have done laundry sometime in the last decade, so no."

"I suspected as much." A corner of Vergil's mouth curved up. For an instant Nero wondered if this somehow earned Vergil a point in the brothers' ongoing rivalry, but when he spoke again, it proved to be pure schadenfreude. "I wonder what we can find for Dante to wear."