Hi, everyone! First of all, I do apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. As always, writer's block and a hectic life seem to have conspired to stop me from continuing this story, but I think I've bulled through them now, LOL. Thank you for your patience.
Before I get to my personal thanks, I would like to dedicate this story to Starfly, one of my most faithful and conscientious reviewers, who has recently lived through a great personal tragedy that I would not wish on my worst enemy. If this story can give you some sort of hope, or help you out in any way, I will consider my task more than fulfilled, Starfly.
Now, on to the thanks;
Kumori Sakusha formerly Saelbu: I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and even more glad that I got your name right, although I'm sure you'd be mature enough to chalk it up to human error on my part... still, best not take the chance you're having a bad day! :P Yep, Seto's back to stay, so enjoy, although his role in this chapter isn't that big.
A Person: Perhaps I wasn't making myself clear in the first chapter about the link between this story and Devil May Cry. I apologize if this is the case. First, Seto's outfit and weapons, as well as his powers (and eventual Devil Trigger) are ripped right off Lucia, Dante's 'partner' in DMC 2. In addition, the idea of sorcerers might be said to have come from DMC 2, specifically from the villain named Arius. Finally, the monsters, the first of which is introduced in this chapter, are taken straight from DMC 1. I'm sure this particular one gave you fits if you made it to Hard/Dante Must Die mode, or tried certain Secret Missions! However, I never said that this story was 'based on' Devil May Cry, and perhaps that's where you're becoming confused. There are similarities, but the story has not been kept intact in any fashion. I hope that addresses your concerns, and yes, I do realize that the last chapter was ripped right out of 'Spawn'... I apologize for not realizing and acknowledging that sooner. Thanks for being a careful enough reader to notice it!
Her Esteemed Talentedness: I am so sorry that I haven't reviewed your stories! I swear I will catch up as soon as I execute this homework pile; it keeps coming back to life, and getting uglier every time! I'm sorry to hear that your review was cut off, but what I did see was great, and made me smile. I hope you continue to grace my story with your feedback, and I will get around to reviewing your stories as fast as I can, promise!
Sapphire Siren: LL! Hey! Thanks for the feedback on the story. Yeah, I'm not online much if at all anymore, but who knows? Maybe we'll get a chance to chat eventually... please, keep reading! If not for me, then for Tenshi-chan... LOL!
Queen Of Games: LOL, pretty much, yeah, but if you ask me, the idea of a secret protector is too romantic to pass up. Thanks so much for your continued reviewer-ship, and I hope to read some more of your reviews soon! Later!
Tess: You're so very kind to say that my fic isn't going downhill! (smiles) I'm very glad you think that the plot's good so far, and that you're still reading my humble efforts to write. Thank you very much.
Starfly: I'm not going to bore and anger you with the same stupid platitudes that I'm sure everyone is spouting off, and nor am I going to drown you in an ocean of pity. Suffice to say that you have been nothing but an amazing person to me, and if there is ANYTHING I can do for you, please, let me know, either via review or the address in my profile. As I said above, I hope this story can, in some small way, help you through this difficult time, and if you ever feel that you need me, do not worry about 'sparing me your crap'. It's not crap, and I can't stand to see another human being in pain if I can help it. Of course, I understand why you might not feel comfortable talking to a stranger about this, and if that's the case, I respect that too. Just know that I'm here anytime, should you choose to ask me for help. I would be honored and grateful for the chance. You're welcome, and enjoy the next chapter of your story.
Hema: In your second review, you hit the nail right on the head, with the pain-wavering thing; very observant, and good reading-between-the-lines skills! :) Thank you so much for your continued readership and friendship; it means so much to me that we've been able to connect in such a meaningful way, and I'll always treasure our bond and your insight. Looking forward to your next review, Princess! (hugs) You are definitely the most unselfish and beautiful friend anyone could ever ask for.
Warnings: Same as always... let's tack on witchcraft here, though, shall we?
Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the OC's.
Chapter 5: Fragile Hope and Ghostly Hatred
(Seto's POV)
A day later, sharing an abandoned building with rats and a homeless man, I curse myself for ever asking to come back to life. I'm hungry, cold, and my wounds ache every time I move, let alone attempt to practice with my new blades. In addition to all that, I have yet to get a single spell to do anything but make the schizophrenic homeless man look at me as though I were the one they should be carting away.
I had been lucky enough to find this boarded-up store less than an hour after leaving the remains of the Kaiba Corp. building. Attempting to steal some sort of ointment had been far less simple; apparently, if I am capable of using magic, the forces governing it seem to consider stealing necessities to fall under the heading of 'personal gain'. I did manage to retrieve some sort of medicinal compound before the alarms went off, but I have a feeling that any improvement I might experience while using it will be purely coincidental.
During the day, I remain here, trying to decide whether this is real or whether I'm about to wake up next to Joey at any moment. During the night, I walk through the semi-deserted streets, avoiding even the most drunk or stoned of degenerates. For some reason, I usually wind up at the ruins of the Kaiba Corp. building, staring out at the sea of rubble until the stars all vanish from the night sky and it's time to repeat the cycle that has become my life.
On the fourth such evening, however, candlelight warns me of the presence of others as I near the site of my death, and I use a conveniently placed fire escape to ascend to the roof of a nearby building. Bracing one foot on the edge of the rooftop, I lean over in order to discover the source of the flickering light.
A few stories below me, a giant crowd surrounds the ruins of the building, many of them holding candles and flowers. A memorial. Instinctively, my eyes search out a familiar shock of blond hair, and find it attached to a man with a candle and slumped shoulders. Joey.
I want nothing more than to go down to him, to hold him, to tell him I'm alright. I almost call out to him, but the words die in my throat as I notice a group of five men, standing off to the side. Their eyes are riveted on Joey, and a snarl works its way into my throat. If I break the rules and reveal myself now, I'll disappear, and he'll be completely at their mercy.
With a snort, I stalk back toward the fire escape, my cape billowing out behind me as I vault onto it and descend. One more moment of such close proximity to him might find my resolve weaker than its temptation, and I will not jeopardize both our existences in such a manner unless absolutely necessary.
My boots strike the concrete alleyway silently, and I shuffle back toward the abandoned building that, for the time being, serves as my home. My few days of adjustment time should be up by now, I realize, which means I'm going to have to start formulating strategies for staying close to Joey twenty-four hours a day without him ever suspecting a thing. Maybe the magic'll work for that, at least.
Of course, I find myself unable to put much faith in that possibility. Let's hope whatever they send after him doesn't require anything more complicated than a few slashes. Otherwise, we're both doomed.
---
(Joey's POV)
I jerk my head up from the candle in my hands suddenly, ignoring the wax dripping onto my hands as I do so. Beside me, Elizabeth also looks up, casually resting one hand on my shoulder. "What is it?" she whispers, obviously afraid of seeming disrespectful.
My eyes scan the sky, the almost-invisible rooftops. "I thought..." I start to say, then shake my head. "Never mind. It was nothing."
She looks like she's going to say something else, but then someone starts whispering another prayer, and both of us bow our heads. It's just the atmosphere, I tell myself. My imagination's going nuts. Still, though my mind knows it's a cruelty, my heart wants to believe that it was really him. In my current state, there is no contest between them, and I smile half-heartedly into the candle's flame.
I might be stuck inside Pandora's Box, but at least I've managed to dig out some hope, false though it might well turn out to be.
(Third-person POV)
The dank catacombs that the five robed men entered had once been part of a church crypt; now, all that was left were mouldy skeletons and a few bricks that had once been the foundation for the small country church itself. Their footsteps sent gravel raining down the chipped, broken stairs, but none of the group paid the sound any mind. Their thoughts were focused solely on the task at hand, and to falter even the slightest bit entertained the possibility of disastrous consequences.
Of course, success would also result in objectively disastrous consequences; however, they would escape those unscathed.
To a large extent, the preparation of the sanctum for their spell was complete, being that less than a week had passed since the last time they had gathered in this spot to invoke their foul abilities. Two of their number refreshed the wards around the central pentagram while the others used relatively minor cantrips to light the innumerable braziers cluttering the room. Then, they gathered, each at one point of the pentagram, and began to chant in a language lost to all but the most demonic-spirited of human beings for centuries.
Energy began to arc along the lines of the five-pointed star between them, melding together and slowly thickening into the shape of a shifting, inky black globe. "Why has my rest been disturbed?" growled a voice from the depths of the blackness, and Gansley stepped forward, throwing back his hood.
"By the Covenant, we entreat you to carry out our commands," he stated formally, and the darkness surged against wards barely strong enough to hold it in place. Satisfied, it settled back into its usual roiling patterns.
"By the Covenant, I shall obey," came the expected reply.
Gansley smiled, reaching into the folds of his robe for a switchblade engraved with mincing patterns. Blood had filled in certain points of the inscriptions, making the spells enchanting the weapon all the more powerful. The blade shot forward, and he passed it to Crump, who stood to his right. The shorter man took the weapon, and Gansley replaced his hood before folding his arms. His role was completed; to do anything more might interfere with the ritual.
With his free hand, Crump pushed back his own hood, displaying the knife to the shifting globe. "By magic crafted, by blood written, by spirit sealed," he recited before slashing his wrist and extending it to the darkness. "Accept this offering in return for your services."
The blackness surged forward, piercing the wards through a hairline crack along one of the pentagram's lines that paralleled the breach in Crump's skin. It dove beneath his skin hungrily, and Crump's soft grunt of discomfort became a shriek of anguish as his soul was torn from his body and consumed by the dark forces to whose summoning he had contributed.
The darkness snapped back, and the wards binding it shattered. Slowly, it coalesced into the shape of a panther, with blood-red eyes. "Offering accepted," it growled. "What is your command?"
Ignoring Crump's writhing form, Gansley stepped forward, tossing a photograph of their intended prey around which were tied a few strands of blond hair into the still-not-completely-solid creature. "That is your prey," he said. "You will slaughter him."
The shadow-creature shuddered as it assimilated the information. "As you wish," it agreed, and Gansley's smile was leagues more terrible than their newly-summoned monster ever could be.
This time, Kaiba's whore won't be so lucky.