Chapter 18
"I shouldn't have let him live," Lady spoke softly, but Trish heard the words clearly in the quiet room, felt the vehemence in the huntress' voice.
Trish looked up from the magazine she had been reading – something she had found on Dante's desk and from which she could only gather that humans were… odd – she let the crumpled paper drop to her lap and raised an elegant eyebrow. Choice of words seemed important here and she eyed Lady carefully; although the huntress' back was to her she could feel the ire rolling off her in palpable waves.
Lady sat at Vergil's bedside (in Dante's bedroom, in Dante's bed) and glowered down at the elder twin's unconscious form, her eyes so full of rage that had she been in possession of demonic powers Vergil might have been vaporized.
"I could still… I could still kill him," Lady hissed wringing her hands together in her lap. Her voice was quieter this time, but Trish's demonic hearing would have picked up much less.
"But you won't," Trish admonished. She rose from the beaten up leather armchair that Dante kept in the corner of his bedroom (mainly for use as a clothes horse since washing clothes caked in demon blood was an effort in itself and the thought of putting them away never even crossed his mind) and strode to where Lady sat awkwardly on a stool that she had filched from a downstairs store-room. Initially, it appeared that Lady's feelings towards Vergil had softened following their return from hell. On the first night Trish had even found the huntress passed out sitting on that stool with her head rested on the edge of the bed, refusing to leave Vergil's side despite her own exhaustion.
But Dante had not returned from Hell and as the days dragged on with no sign of the demon hunter or his father Lady had begun to grow bitter. Trish understood of course, Vergil had betrayed both Lady and Dante and there had already been bad blood there; but this increasing rage, coupled with self-loathing wasn't doing the woman any favors.
They had returned from Hell exactly one week ago. It had been raining, and – mercifully – somewhere around midnight, when they stepped through the portal. Trish had carried Vergil, Lady their various accoutrements. Although the front entrance of the shop had been turned into rubble by Lady and Trish's first proper meeting Lady had led them in via the garage at the back where Dante was slowly cultivating a collection of vehicles.
By the time Trish laid Vergil down on the couch in the office of Devil May Cry her chest and arms had been slick with his blood. At that point Lady hadn't been fraught with moral dilemmas about whether she should be helping Vergil. The huntress had immediately been on the phone, calling Morrison and then Enzo until she located a doctor who made house calls and didn't ask questions. Although it hadn't been the most sanitary work Vergil had been laid out in Dante's bed, patched up and given an estimation of better than fifty-percent chance of survival. The entire episode had run them both ragged and left Lady owing both middlemen considerably.
Really it was no wonder that the huntress had passed out that night at Vergil's bedside… and yet Trish couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't bothered to find a more restful spot.
"What makes you the expert at human emotions all of a sudden?" Lady snapped irritably, turning on Trish. Although her eyes blazed Trish saw the pure exhaustion in them, the hopelessness. "How can you even understand what I've been through? And you have the audacity to look down on me?"
Trish ran a hand over her eyes, disguising the gesture of exasperation by tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.
"I'm not," she said keeping her tone measured. Once all the chaos had ended on that first night Lady had fallen into some kind of reckless despair. Vergil had barely been conscious the past seven days and when he had he'd been confused, his still very human mind fogged by painkillers. At those times Lady had simply left the room commenting that she couldn't be near him, but she often returned once he had passed out again. As the days slipped by Trish had noticed the huntress' building agitation, winding up like a spring unable to release, all fear and pent up rage rolling into one.
Trish was worried too of course; she was concerned for Dante and Sparda, and (although he appeared to be out of mortal danger) Vergil remained weak and required supervision. Trish was also dealing with a whole new kettle of fish that Lady couldn't possibly understand. She was alone, untethered in the human world, where survival was not measured in pure strength and people seemed to care about 'building that bikini body!' (if the present reading material was anything to go by). Trish possessed some strange pre-programmed understanding of human customs, but they were also completely foreign to her; it appeared that certain vital pieces of information had been left out.
"Killing him won't make you feel better," Trish said softly folding her arms across her chest.
"How would you know?" Lady grumbled. She turned back to look at Vergil, his ashen face, flecked with bruises and burn marks. So like Dante – it was maddening; asleep, his hair no longer scraped back away from his face, Vergil was identical to his brother. It was painful to look at him, to see him and wish more than anything that it was Dante and not his areshole of a twin. "Has anyone ever betrayed you like he has Dante and I?"
"No," Trish answered flatly, honestly. If this was going to be Lady's excuse every time they had an argument she was going to get tired of it; Trish had very little in the way of life experience, but that didn't mean she was an idiot.
"Well shut up then," Lady mumbled. She folded her arms on the bed, resting her chin on a balled fist as she continued to glower at Vergil. She was being petty and she knew that, but she couldn't help it. Lady was exhausted and afraid. More afraid than she had ever been that Dante wasn't coming back and she had been left alone with him. She knew she should be kinder to Trish – the demoness had made good on her word. She had stuck by Lady when she had no reason to do so and Lady understood that she was experiencing somewhat of a culture shock. But Lady was human, exhausted and reeling from the aftereffects of her time spent in hell, none of which boded well for her already short temper.
Trish bit her lip, counted to five – she didn't want this to escalate any more than it already had. One thing she was good at was keeping her emotions in check, after all she had been required to pretend that she didn't have any around Mundus. So instead of telling Lady to chill the fuck out she took a deep breath and placed a hand on Lady's shoulder, glad when the huntress didn't try to rip it off.
"They'll be alright you know."
"How can you know?"
"Because I'm a demon and I was in the room with both Dante and Sparda… that kind of power… there's no way they didn't win." She spoke with conviction, but the seeds of doubt had crept into her mind – because Dante hadn't seemed in complete control and if there was one thing Mundus was it was cunning.
Trish felt Lady hold a breath and then let it out, her body sagged beneath the demoness' hand. "Trish, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but you're not my mother and I don't need looking after. I just want to be alone for a while ok?"
A wry smile quirked the edge of Trish's mouth, because of all the people resident in Devil May Cry who might have inadvertently reminded her of her resemblance to Eva, she hadn't thought it would be Lady.
"Sure," Trish said letting the hand slide from Lady's shoulder. "I can trust you not to suffocate him with a pillow right?"
Lady turned her head and looked up at Trish from where her chin remained rested on her curled fist. Her eyes remained sad, but she managed a slight smile. "If I get any murderous impulses, I'll come find you."
"Good, you should get some proper rest too," Trish said because she couldn't help it – maybe she was prone to motherly behaviour after all. Maybe she just felt sorry for the huntress who, she understood, was already silently grieving her friend. As much as she tried Trish couldn't understand the relationship between Dante and Lady. She wasn't certain that she would ever learn what they had been through together, but she knew it was significant. Clearly the blood of brothers (and sisters) was thicker than the water of the womb.
"Yeah," Lady replied, but didn't make a move to leave, simply turning her head back to look at Vergil's unconscious form.
Trish sighed and left the room without another word, hoping that Lady didn't really go through with any of her murderous thoughts. The fact was that Vergil was Dante's brother and Lady knew that whatever happened to Vergil it was Dante's decision and his alone – and Sparda's too now she supposed. God that was an awkward family reunion she did not want to be a part of.
The demoness' had only made it to the top of the stairs that led to the Devil May Cry office when a sudden explosion shook the building. It sounded as though a meteorite had struck the earth only feet from the front of the shop. A hazy flash of light brightened the windows which had, seconds earlier, been lit with cast the fading embers of sunset bleeding into dusk.
The pile of rubble and debris that now stood where Devil May Cry's front door had been rumbled threateningly, a few loose rocks breaking free of the rubble and dust rising in a cloud. Lady had commented that she (and Trish, although the demoness' didn't have a cent to her name) would have to pay for a new door at some point. As the room shook Trish clutched the railing at the top of the stairs. The worn metal groaned in protest as the joints unsettled and for a second she feared that it would give way, but then the shaking subsided.
Although it had felt very much like a strong earthquake Trish knew that something demonic had suddenly and violently entered the human world. She could sense the power which only seemed to grow stronger as she left the shop from the rear and hurried out front. The red fingers of sunset were losing their grip on the world bathing the street in a dying, crimson glow. The neon signs of Devil May Cry's neighbours had flickered on down the street. Trish was glad that the closer buildings were empty and hoped that the purveyors of those that were occupied would not yet venture out into the street. Even if they had chalked it up to an earthquake Trish understood that humans were curious and social creatures and that they would quickly look beyond their own established territories for confirmation of their suspicions.
And when they did Trish did not want them to see what stood before her now. Sparda, just rising to his feet from where he had been crouched for landing, the paved street cracked in a shock wave beneath his taloned feet. Although he slipped back into his human form as Trish approached his demonic power remained palpable. In Sparda's arms was Dante's prone and – thankfully – human form, but the marks that marred his pale skin made Trish shudder. Veins of bright orange fire zig-zagged across Dante's flesh, burning with demonic power. Trish had seen this before, in Vergil's corruption by Mundus. The power that the dark lord had infused into the elder twin to warp him into Nelo Angelo had been too great for Vergil's weakened half-human body. Trish knew that it had been agonizing, and worse, it had poisoned him from the inside out, corroding his humanity both body and soul. Would that happen to Dante? Had it already?
"Mundus?" Trish asked, although she suspected that their presence here signified the answer.
"Dead," Sparda replied, voice impassive, at least for now.
"Come inside," Trish said decisively turning away from the pair and marching back the way she had come. Sparda followed her silently, only glancing briefly at the destroyed front entrance of Devil May Cry.
Dante's office was the largest habitable room on the ground floor and Trish led Sparda inside, walking past the makeshift bar and gesturing to the couch under the window. Although she had scrubbed the leather thoroughly, she still thought that she saw the stains of Vergil's week-old blood and made a mental note that the couch would also need replacing. Whilst Vergil had been dealt with by the 'doctors' Trish and Lady had put in some effort to clean the shop that Dante normally kept in a state just short of a pigsty. Being a demon Trish wasn't particularly concerned with such things as cleanliness, but she had understood that it was necessary with Vergil in a weakened state and was oddly glad of it now that Sparda was here. Before his capture the Dark Knight had lived in the human world for a long time and she suspected he had picked up on some human sensibilities regarding cleanliness.
Trish saw Sparda cast his eyes about the room as he laid Dante down gently on the couch, taking in the clutter of weapons, paperwork and other bric-à-brac that haphazardly adorned the office. The desk had been righted and restored, but a draft still blew in through the cracks in the crumbled front entrance.
As Sparda glanced around, Trish understood another human sensibility that Sparda had adopted and grabbed a blanket from the shelving rack beneath the stairs, tossing it to the Dark Knight who caught it deftly. Sparda turned his back on her and, with a tenderness that Trish found both endearing and strange coming from a high-class demon, covered his son's naked body, tucking the blanket round him to keep out the chill. Once Dante was attended to Sparda unsheathed the sword that bore his name from its place at his back, resting the weapon gently against the wall beside the couch. The red jewels in the hilt glittered faintly and Trish was struck again by the care of Sparda's movements, the restraint that was evident in his every action.
"Dante!" Lady stood on the balcony above the shop floor, hands clasping the wrought iron railing as she stared down at the unconscious devil hunter.
Even as Sparda and Trish turned to look up at her the huntress was flying down the stairs and across the room. Despite her exhaustion Lady dodged around the office with ease and Trish understood that she knew the room well and was used to its haphazard qualities; even tidy chaos was still chaos. Lady stopped abruptly next to them, her pale face growing impossibly paler.
"Is he alright?" she asked earnestly. Trish saw Lady restrain herself as she approached, saw that Sparda's presence and the eerie orange lines that split Dante's flesh had made her pause. "What – what is that?"
Sparda sighed softly, he moved to sit on the arm of the couch at Dante's feet. He was exhausted and it was plain to see on his human features. His blue-grey eyes held a deep sadness in them as he regarded his son. Despite the angry welts of energy flaring across his skin Dante appeared peaceful. His chest rose and fell slowly as though he were sleeping, the snowdrift of white hair falling across his face and obscuring his features. This peace would be short-lived, however. The demon inside Dante would return and when it did he would be engulfed by its inferno.
Although the problem itself was novel to Sparda he understood innately that his son had not been ready to absorb that kind of power. Maybe in a few decades, given time and training… Sparda had no doubt that, even with his human blood, Dante's powers would have grown naturally, perhaps even rivalled Sparda's own – or exceeded them. But this was one of Mundus' experiments gone awry – an artefact meant to take demonic power and not to give it. Vergil's demonic energy had flowed into Dante and his demon side had absorbed it voraciously, but without any of the necessary control required to prevent him from being driven insane by it. And that quickly brought another issue to Sparda's tired mind.
"Where is Vergil?" Sparda asked ignoring Lady's question. Mercifully, Sparda suspected there would be time to fill both women in fully on the issue they now faced. He didn't understand Dante's relationship with them – a human who should have been repulsed, and dead, after all she had experienced, and Mundus' puppet – but the part of him that had learned human emotions was glad of their presence. Would he and Dante have survived Mundus' final showdown without their help? The answer, however unbelievable to him, was not likely – but then Sparda had spent a long time in chains and a lot of that time had been spent contemplating his own learned human behaviors and their true origins. When he sealed the gate between the human and demon worlds he had left a significant portion of his own power on the other side, not all of it, but certainly the amount that made him god-like. Now that power resided in the devil arm that bore his name, which he had torn from Dante and brought here. He was thankful that in his fury Dante had not seen the potential of Rebellion and Sparda to bring even greater power, although the weapon alone had undoubtedly helped Dante in his fight against Mundus.
"Upstairs," Trish replied when no response was forthcoming from Lady. The demoness had moved away from the couch and propped herself against the demon-slayer's desk. The tension in the air around Sparda was palpable and her instincts had told her to step back. "He's alive, he's healing, but… he's human."
Sparda turned to glance at the stairway from where Lady had come. With Dante's demonic presence almost engulfing the room he had not even caught a hint of the elder twin.
"Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on?" Lady asked exasperatedly when the silence stretched unbearably. Although she had helped the Dark Knight she was suddenly wary of him. Before his powers had been suppressed by the chains that bound him, but now it was slowly building and rolling from him in waves. And with it, a bitter rage and sadness that Lady couldn't quite tell if she had picked up on because of his demonic presence or the fraught expression on his face. "Where did you go for a week? What-" she gestured in Dante's general direction indicating the angry veins of fire, "what is that shit?"
"Time moves differently between the worlds, especially when you venture into the deeper recesses of Hell," Sparda replied looking down at his son's prone form. "By the time I found Dante he had slain Mundus, and although his powers were dulled by that battle they will return. I had to forcibly remove him from the underworld… or I think he might have stayed." The thought sent a thrill down Sparda's spine because he knew Dante would have stayed and ruled and been both awesome and terrible. Not the irony Mundus had intended when he crafted the crude enchantment for that dagger, but still one that terrified Sparda.
"Regardless, I feel that very little time has passed, maybe an hour in human terms," he continued, raising spread fingers to his temples to quell an oncoming headache. "That blade that Mundus' used to steal and keep my sons' powers apparently had the opposite, inadvertent, effect of also being able to transfer that power to one of them in its entirety. I suppose Mundus never intended to return their powers, only to corrupt them with his own…"
Sparda shuddered involuntarily, it was only a slight movement, but Lady caught it and understood that he was thinking of Vergil. The cold warped version of his son who had stood in Mundus throne room, loyal to his mortal enemy; but Sparda could trick himself into thinking that Vergil had fought valiantly and been turned by brute force. Lady knew differently, she knew that Vergil was driven by his unabating desire for power, that he had betrayed both she and Dante with enough command of his own senses to be responsible for that betrayal – and that was ignoring the whole Temin-Ni-Gru fiasco. Once Sparda knew of those details would he ever be able to accept his son as anything but a monster?
"The power that Dante has consumed is great… both of them have developed their abilities significantly since they were children." Sparda's brow furrowed in thought. "I had hoped they would not… that they would live normal lives." He looked up and stared into Lady's bi-coloured eyes and she understood sadly that he was begging her to tell him that this was true, that his sons hadn't experienced great pain and anguish to gain their devil triggers as was a usual right of passage for pure demons. Although Dante had been cagey on the subject, he had eventually told her what happened atop Temin-Ni-Gru when his demonic powers first awakened. That Vergil had run him through with Rebellion and left him there to bleed to death atop the tower.
Although she couldn't offer Sparda what he wanted to hear, she filled in the blanks. "So you're saying that this is an unnatural amount of power for him?" Lady didn't really need to ask the question, she had seen Dante eviscerate Theo with his bare hands, but she couldn't stand when the room fell into silence.
"That is my suspicion," Sparda confirmed looking down at his son's still unconscious form. There was a tenderness in his eyes that touched Lady, and a deep sadness. "I do not think he will live long if we cannot return Vergil's powers."
"You'd be surprised," Lady said softly, almost to herself. After everything they'd been through she didn't doubt Dante's ability to look Hell in the face and laugh. She scuffed one booted foot against the floorboards nervously then glanced at Sparda. More than anything she wanted to reach out to Dante, to sit next to him and ask him to wake up, but that also seemed childish and inappropriate. "Do you… need to rest? Or… eat?"
"No, thank you," Sparda replied and she understood from the look in his eyes that his thanks were genuine. He stood from where he perched on the arm of the sofa, the old, soft leather creaking beneath his weight. "But more than anything I would like a shower."
The Legendary Dark Knight Sparda showering in the downstairs bathroom, normal, Dante's sociopathic twin unconscious upstairs, normal, Dante passed out on the couch – at least that was normal. Lady had dragged Dante's chair closer to the beaten up leather chesterfield so that she could watch her sleeping friend, but now she rested her head in her arms and groaned audibly. When was this nightmare ever going to end? Her life had never been normal and the chaos after Temin-Ni-Gru had been difficult, but she had got through it and into a rhythm that was mostly comfortable. Having Dante there for support had helped more than she would ever admit, even if she had been holding him up just as much as he had her.
"Not pleased to see me then I take it?" The voice was cracked and dry, but there was a subtle good-humour to it that was unmistakable.
Lady's head flew up. She stared into a pair of pale blue eyes, tinged with red. "Dante!"
"The one and only," Dante replied and shifted on the upholstery of the couch. The blanket that covered him slid down his chest as he righted himself and Dante caught it instinctively. For the first time he looked down at his naked flesh and noticed, with a frown, the angry, fiery, lay-lines that adorned his skin. Although his face bore a disquieted expression that he couldn't quite hide he spoke with his usual facetiousness. "You didn't finally get up the courage to undress me whilst I slept did you?"
"What?" Lady swatted at him irritably, sitting back so that she was no longer so close to his naked chest. Dante was attractive, he always had been, but she wasn't exactly flustered by the sight of skin either – he was an exhibitionist after all. At least he'd grown up enough since Temin-Ni-Gru to put on a shirt. "No, Dante look…"
"Yeah I know this is freaky," he replied quickly tracing one of the glowing welts with his fingers.
"It's more than that," Lady said hotly her bi-coloured eyes attempting to catch his own, but the demon hunter was apparently engrossed in his own skin. When he didn't respond she continued. "You understand that right? You know this is bad."
He turned to her, lips pulling into a lopsided grin. "When isn't it?"
"You're impossible," she shook her head and rolled her eyes, but a smile was still gracing her features. Lady paused then looked at him pointedly, full in the face. "It's good to have you back."
"It's good to be back," Dante replied casting his eyes about the shop. It didn't feel real, none of it, like some strange dream.
He turned his gaze back to Lady, the one person he had been able to confide in since Temin-Ni-Gru, the one who he occasionally let the mask slip for, and noticed how tired she was. The circles under her eyes, her drawn, pale features – the way her cheeks and wrists suddenly seemed too thin. God what had this done to her? His kamikaze pilgrimage into hell with a brother who was hell bent on fratricide. It had nearly destroyed them all, still quite possibly would, and she had suffered selflessly for him. As he looked at her he knew that he wouldn't forget how haunted her eyes had become, that he wouldn't ever quite forgive himself for it.
"I don't quite know how I got here though," Dante admitted, shifting to swing his legs over the couch and clumsily pulling the rough blanket around his waist. He wasn't shy exactly, but the fissures of demonic power that laced his skin were making him uneasy, especially the way that Lady was staring at them, at him, as though he might suddenly burst into flames. When she didn't speak he waved a hand in front of her face. "Uh Lady, look I know I'm gorgeous, but you're kinda giving me the creeps."
The woman glanced up at him as though she hadn't quite heard what he said.
"How did I get here?" Dante repeated.
"Sparda," Lady replied dully and glanced towards the backroom indicating his father's whereabouts even without voicing it. "He said you killed Mundus and then… he had to force you to come back. Dante, how are you feeling?"
Dante smirked. "Honestly, like I was hit by a truck. I know it's bad Lady…"
He trailed off not wanting to admit that he could feel that awakened power bubbling beneath the surface even now. Even amidst all of the tiredness and confusion Dante knew that he was barely containing it and that soon it would overwhelm him. But this time there was nothing to expend that energy on, to douse the hellfire within him that threatened to turn nuclear. He recalled the battle with Mundus vividly, the power that he had wielded, and that despite it the battle had raged for what felt like an eternity. He had been depleted of every resource of power that he possessed and at first it had seemed that Mundus would swat him like a fly, but then he had poured unbidden rage into every blow and little by little he had beaten the demon king down. He knew somewhere that it had been his most epic battle, one for the ages, one that might have made him a legend. But all he felt now was bitterness and regret because it wasn't meant to end like this and killing Mundus hadn't fixed his broken family. Now he was dealing with the terrible revelation that his father was still alive, that he had been chained by Mundus, and that Dante had never even bothered to look for him.
"Your father said that you aren't ready for this power, that we have to remove Vergil's half," Lady said softly wondering how Dante would react. As she looked into his face she saw the red in his eyes glimmer faintly at the mention of his brother's name, the lines across his skin rippled with an incandescent light. He couldn't contain it of course, Sparda was right – but would Dante believe that? Lady hadn't questioned before whether Dante would agree to return Vergil's powers, but as she looked at him now she was suddenly afraid. Beneath the man who was her friend there was something hellish. It had always been there, but now it was barely beneath the surface, clawing it's way out.
"Oh did he now," Dante said sullenly glaring down at his hands, his knuckles whitened and his jaw clenched. "Nice of him to finally take an interest."
"He said it will kill you otherwise," Lady insisted. "Dante-"
A noise at the top of the stairwell cut her off; they both glanced upwards. Lady realised that it could only be one person. Vergil leant against the railing at the top of the stairs, it appeared as though he had stumbled and was using the bannister as a crutch to regain his footing.
"Vergil," as the name left Dante's lips it was multi-layered, ringing with an infernal cadence.
"Hello brother," Vergil said, tone impassive despite the fact that he had clearly exerted a lot of his energy just to get out of bed and down the hall. Vergil's eyes were cold as he looked down at Dante and Lady felt exasperation welling in her. Was he so proud even now? "I understand that you have something that belongs to me."
That was it; the tipping point. It hadn't taken much, in fact Lady was certain Vergil must have known, must have felt the power radiating from his twin – and yet he was still goading him? Lady suddenly realised the irony; she felt fear for Vergil's life and yet only less than an hour ago she had been considering murdering him whilst he slept.
Now she looked at Vergil and understood that he couldn't possibly fight. His torso was swathed in bandages that showed hints of dark blood, the loose trousers that Lady had found in Dante's closet and dressed him in clung to his angular hip bones, showing the muscle wastage that had occurred in only a week. Vergil's face was pale and gaunt flecked with healing cuts and flowered, maturing bruises. His bottom lip puckered with blood where it had been split and his eyes ringed in deep circles. Although the veins that had marred his features were fading they still stood out in contrast to his translucent skin. He had valiantly tried to push his hair up and out of his eyes, but it was lank with sweat and refusing to cooperate.
"I don't owe you shit," Dante hissed rising, grasping the blanket loosely at his hip. His human sensibilities prevailed on some counts although he could feel his mind tearing with bloodlust. His brother had betrayed him and to the demon inside of him there was no coming back from that.
"Dante," Lady said softly. She had stood instinctively when the hunter did and now she placed a hand to his chest. His flesh was burning, the fiery welts flashing with demonic energy. "Just ignore him."
But now Vergil was making his way slowly down the stairs. Although his movements were awkward and belaboured with pain, he fought to keep his posture proud. To Lady's horror Dante leaned forwards and growled. Actually growled, a full-on guttural, demonic rumble that sent shivers shocking down the huntress' spine. Her whole body warned her that she was in danger, but this was Dante, her friend, not a monster.
"Vergil what the hell are you doing go back upstairs!" She shouted over her shoulder, pressing her palm firmer against Dante's chest as she stared up into his face. His eyes were glowing red, the calm sea of blue vaporised from existence, his lips had pulled back into a sneer and she could see the hint of pointed, too-sharp canines. "Dante you have to fight this."
Dante looked down at her, an expression of mild surprise glancing across his features as though it was the first time he had noticed her presence. "Lady… get out of here." The growl was threatening, but behind the demonic resonance in his voice there was something else, something human… fear.
Vergil had reached the bottom of the stairs now, but he had the sense to stop there. One hand remained on the bannister for support as he gazed across the room at his twin. Dante was very clearly losing control, his body was aflame with demonic power, his eyes blazing with hellfire, fingers tapering, sharpening to points, even as he stood there ridiculously with the blanket pulled taught around his waist and Lady desperately trying to calm him. It wouldn't work; the woman was fighting a losing battle. Vergil understood that and he goaded his twin despite it.
"You clearly can't handle this power Dante," Vergil said a sardonic smile creeping across his thin lips. "You need to return it-"
The words that Vergil had been about to speak died in his throat. Dante, now barely fighting off his devil trigger - body flickering with scales and flame - tore across the room. Clawed hands grabbed Vergil by the shoulders and slammed him backwards into the wall so hard that for a second he saw stars. When his vision cleared he was staring into a barely human face filled with rows of sharp teeth and blazing red eyes.
"You," Dante snarled beneath harsh pants, his voice reverberating, inhuman, "need to stop talking."
Despite the pain flaring through his body Vergil smiled; Dante was still trying to hold on to his humanity. For whatever foolish reason Dante didn't want to hurt him. It was an admirable attempt at control, but Vergil knew just from being in Dante's presence that it wasn't enough. He tilted his head slightly and caught his brother's crimson eyes with his own sky-blue ones, challenging him.
"Or what?" Vergil hissed almost spitting the words back at his twin. His hands had come up instinctively to push at Dante's bare chest when his back hit the wall, but he understood that it was futile. Even without the injuries that he had sustained his human strength was no match for Dante's.
Another low inhuman growl echoed from Dante's throat like the beginning of a landslide. His skin shifted as Vergil watched, scales forming and spikes sprouting from his shoulder blades, flowering in small, sharp mountains across his cheekbones. He was trying desperately to force the demon inside him down and he was failing horribly. When he spoke again all of the humanity was gone, his voice echoed, multi-layered and dripping with demonic energy.
"I will… kill… you." To Vergil the words sounded foreign on his twin's lips as though he were having a hard time saying them.
Vergil only smiled, then fixed his twin with his icy gaze, he spoke softly so that only Dante could possibly hear. "What if that's what I want?"
As Dante's right hand left his brother's shoulder to close about his throat Lady staggered to her feet. Dante had thrown her against his desk when he lost control. Now her head was spinning and she felt burns raising ugly welts across her chest. As she stood a horrendous rumbling shook the room. The sound bubbled like lava from where Dante stood with his back to her, shoving Vergil backwards by the throat into the crumbling brickwork. It took her addled mind a moment to realise that Dante was laughing. The sound sang with sibilant fire, but it was cruel and cold and nothing like him.
Then she heard Vergil cry out, saw Dante raising the arm that gripped Vergil by the throat until his twin's bare feet were clear of the floor.
"Dante!" She yelled. In panic she grabbed a paperweight from his desk and hurled it at him. Although it struck him squarely in the shoulder the demon didn't move. "Dante stop!"
Lady saw Vergil's eyes widen, watched his fingers scrabble uselessly across Dante's demonic hide. Weapon-less and powerless every instinct in Lady should have told her to run in the opposite direction, but instead she ran to them. Reaching the spot where Dante stood she threw her arms up and wrapped her hands around his right bicep, putting all of her weight into dragging that limb back and down. It wasn't enough – had she really thought that it would be?
"Dante!" Lady screamed at him, feeling herself choking on the caustic air that radiated from the hunter in waves. Vergil clawed at his twin's forearm, one hand attempting to prize the crushing claws from his throat. He kicked out with his bare feet, seeking purchase on the wall behind him, but the soles of his feet were slick with sweat and slid uselessly against the smooth stone. A dark unhealthy red had begun to seep from the bandages swathing his chest.
"Dante… please!" Lady yelled, feeling her voice go hoarse, it was as though she were inhaling smoke; the taste of ash filled her mouth. She moved forwards until she was between the pair of them, shoving bodily against Dante's chest, even as each touch scorched her like a bad sunburn.
Desperate Lady stared into her friend's unrecognisable face, bi-coloured eyes searching for some semblance of the man that she knew. "Dante I know you, this isn't you, you don't want to kill him" – you wouldn't forgive yourself.
Dante cocked his head, the movement lizard-like, uncanny. Lady felt his red eyes fix on hers and shuddered. His lips, already pulled back and displaying sharp fangs, twisted into an evil and inhuman sneer. Suddenly and terribly Lady understood that she was in danger, more danger possibly than she had ever been. Behind her, she heard Vergil gasping, his erratic movements had grown slow and fumbling.
With one final surge of strength she rocked back and then slammed her weight into Dante's chest. He might have moved, maybe an inch, but all it served to do was convince the hunter to finally divest himself of the human pest. Lady screamed as Dante dug a clawed hand into her shoulder and threw her backwards. His fingers sliced through fabric and pale flesh like a knife through butter, sending a spray of crimson liquid spurting from the wound.
Lady hit the ground hard, her temple cracking on the wood floor. Consciousness left her for a split second and through sheer strength of will she clawed it back, only to wish that she hadn't. Dante stood impassive, his fingers in a vice about his twin's throat; Vergil's already pale face had begun to turn blue. But that wasn't what horrified her, what made her stomach roil. Dante was staring at her, meeting her eyes deliberately, the heat rolling from him juxtaposed by the ice in his gaze. As she watched he raised his bloodied hand to his mouth and licked the fingers with a forked tongue.
The sight was beyond terrible; there was no semblance of the hunter left. Lady felt her body wracked with involuntary shivers, her blouse plastered to her skin with sweat and blood. It shocked her to the core how quickly Dante's demon side had broken free, how little it had taken. Lady tried to speak, but her tongue felt foreign in her own mouth. Her head pounded with every heartbeat which forced blood from the wound at her shoulder. She had been to hell and back, lived through something that no human ever should and now she might die on the floor of Devil May Cry – at the hands of her best friend.
"D-dante," she choked out finally. She couldn't move, her body was disobeying her, the edges of her vision greying. She heard Vergil splutter and the sound came to her as though she were underwater.
"Pathetic," Dante said, voice abrasive, cutting the air with demonic power. Lady slumped, her consciousness fleeing her, bi-coloured eyes glassy with unshed tears. They were going to die here, both she and Vergil and for what?
Then a flash of purple lightning shot past her. Sparda moved across the room with an inhuman speed that rent the air, knocked aside furniture, and disturbed the precarious heap of rubble piled in the doorway of Devil May Cry sending an ersatz rockslide skittering into the entryway.
In a split second the Dark Knight was between his sons, roaring and forcing Dante back. The younger twin dropped his brother his attention now on the demon who had challenged him. Vergil crumpled backwards against the wall barely conscious and gasping for air as he stared up with glazed eyes at his father who now stood over him protectively.
"Let. Me. Past," Dante growled at his father baring pointed fangs. His body was aflame with demonic energy, spurred on by bloodlust. "He's mine."
Sparda didn't respond to his son, instead he grabbed Dante by the shoulders and shoved him backwards. With a roar Dante surged forwards again, but Sparda responded, pushing him back until Dante braced himself, panting with exertion, clawed toes rending grooves in the floor. The air around Dante rippled with heat and energy.
Sparda felt himself struck with an odd sense of deja-vu as his own demonic eyes met those of his son. He felt his body shaking with the exertion of holding his son back and something akin to fear flooded the Dark Knight. Dante was too powerful and that power was young and unrelenting. With time and space experience and mastery would bring the boy to his knees, but Sparda had neither of those two things. Vergil and the human woman did not have time.
"Dante," Sparda spoke, his voice even despite the demonic power that flooded him. "You can control it. You have to."
Dante lowered his head, strands of white, sweat-damp hair hung in his face, his eyes darkened, blazed with fire. "I don't want to."
The demon laughed at his father, sensing Sparda's unease. "You weren't here, you don't know what he" – Sparda understood that Dante was referring to his brother – "did to us. You don't know…"
Dante shook his head despite himself, then sensing Sparda's distraction threw his weight forwards. Sparda was surprised and stepped backwards to maintain his hold on Dante's shoulders, understanding that although Dante appeared tortured with emotion he was far from it. This was calculated, controlled.
"He raised Temin-Ni-Gru, he broke the seals," Dante said, voice edged with wild rage. "He betrayed me."
Sparda felt his body quake with exertion, knew for one terrible second that this was a battle he was going to lose and then Dante's knees buckled and he crashed to the floor. The Dark Knight barely had time to step back as his son toppled.
Confused, he stared blankly across the space where Dante had stood moments before and into Trish's face, one that looked so like Eva's, except for the smirk that was unmistakably Trish. It was unusual for the Dark Knight Sparda to be caught off guard, or to find himself in such a state of confusion. He couldn't feel electricity in the air. If Trish hadn't used her powers then how…?
Sensing his bewilderment Trish pointed downwards with one elegant, manicured index finger. Dante's flesh had already begun to slowly slide back into human form. Between the taught skin of his flared shoulder-blades, burrowed into the flesh at the centre of his spine, was a glittering oval shape. It had burned through the top layers of skin and clung there now with short, jagged legs that pierced Dante's pale flesh. The object was clearly demonic in origin, set with raised, glimmering runes and resembling some kind of giant beetle. As Sparda watched the object sparked faintly with a potent energy.
The demoness gave him a lopsided smirk. "I thought he needed a time out."
A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews guys and for sticking with this story. I'm atually writing my own original stuff right now and it is so much harder than writing fanfic, like I just want to live in a cave and write these devil boys for the rest of my life. That being said I am getting more critical of what I write and I am completely open to any feedback on my style etc. if that floats your boat.
This was a looooong-ass chapter too, I guess there are maybe only 2-4 left if I keep going at this rate. We'll see. I actually just have to figure out how on earth to resolve it after a good old helping of angst.
Until next time guys :)
-Luce
