The Lavender Road Chapter 19 Nightshade, a devil may cry fanfic

Chapter 19 ~ Nightshade

'At last. . .' He thought.

The Chandelier finally arrived, so he could hang it in the middle of his office, or perhaps near his couches, lord knows that corner could use light.
It'd give the place some excellent color. The candelabrum alone was worth more than the combined annual incomes of every fry-cook in the state of California.
It was decorated with the best-cut diamonds available while the frame itself was made from white-gold ivory.

"How did you afford this?" Patty spoke, amused.

"Let's just say I'll be eating cereal for the next six months." Vergil grumbled, "My fault, I had to fix this place."

Patty covered her mouth slightly, hiding her smile, "But you've still got a thousand bucks, that's good!"

Vergil's shoulders sagged in, defeated. He sighed.

"I had to pay off a certain someone's large debt, so that isn't much."

He looked back at the figure of the red-headed foreigner still sleeping on his black sofa. It'd been twelve hours, but nothing changed about her.

She hadn't done a single thing since uttering those strange words. He thought back on them but couldn't derive a meaning.

Tony was blacked out next to her, resting on the other sofa. Yes, those funds would come in handy, he wondered how much the man had grabbed.

"Check on her for me." His dark expression inspired no confidence.

"Yes."

Patty went back and sat on the coffee table, she knelt down slightly and checked the woman's forehead.

"She's cool," She commented, "Feels like she's just sleeping."

Vergil placed his right hand on his forehead, "Yes, but she won't wake up, that's the problem."

He took out the steel step ladder Dante kept in the closet, adjacent to the garage he never used, and prepared to hang his precious chandelier.
A little bit of annoying work, but it was finally hung in pride. He climbed down the ladder and sighed. Such a beautiful sight to behold.
Not the old, ugly look Dante had going. Finally, his poor tortured eyes could rest. The fancier look made him feel comfortable, now he was truly home.

He went back to the desk and sat. His mind kinda reeled about the strange event he witnessed.

Why was she not there at first? And more importantly, why was she hung on display like that for him to see?

His eyes drifted to the foreigner again. She was partway demonic, he could feel this, but. . . Something was just off, an indescribable facet of her.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but maybe something happened because of that.

"Dante?" Patty's call pulled him out of his thought train.

"Yes?"

She sat on the opposite side of him, making a seat out of the edge of his desk like she'd seen Lady do. Her eyes screamed morbid curiosity.

"What was your mom like?"

He was silent for a moment, a question he hadn't anticipated. In fact, this was the first time ever that someone asked him about her.

"Why do you ask?"

The girl was silent first, wondering if she made a mistake by asking that.

"It's just. . . You're always alone and. . . My story's that I'm orphaned." She stifled in her tracks, "I-I'm sorry."

Vergil held a sorrow-filled smile, of course these words won't offend him. It's an honest thought from an honest child.

"She was strong and gracious, the type of person you seek out. . ." He replied to her. He took the frame that sat near the girl and turned it to face her, "That's my mother."

Patty stared intently at the picture, a beautiful blonde woman clad in classy robes, and she was posing with two young boys.
It was such a pristine, serene photo, speaking back a visual language of a quaint existence. She wondered, what changed that?

"She's beautiful." Patty commented, starstruck.

"Thank you." He whispered.

"You have a twin brother?" She asked.

The mention of Dante stung a bit. This had never come up.

"Oh, u-uh, yeah. . ." He answered casually, "But I don't talk about him."

Patty took the hint and avoided speaking any further on the matter. She returned the frame and smiled.

"Go get a nap, I'll watch over her. Don't worry, I'm tough!" That face was so adorable.

Vergil felt himself begin to smirk, such a sweet kid.

"Heh, I think I'll rest here on the chair, just in case."

However, within seconds he sensed something. . . Odd. Like a presence at the front door, and yet. . . Not there, somehow. No way was it human, it was something else, for sure.
But something else was beginning to bother him about this. . . It felt like an overwhelming sense of. . . Self-hatred? Interesting. He knew it wasn't for the young girl to know, surely.

"Patty, go upstairs and stay in the bedroom." He said.

Patty was confused at first, "Why, what's wrong?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He himself couldn't understand this strange feeling overwhelming him, like he was trapped under ice.
Turning his head, Vergil gave her that knowing look, one that blasted volumes. She had to leave, even if she didn't know why. His voice matched that.

"I'll call you when it's safe." That was the cue.

She took off for the bedroom, fleeing. She reached upstairs and felt a draft pick up, shutting the door tight behind her.

Vergil stared at the front. . . He was unsure if he should prepare for a fight or not.

The door opened and he saw a boot enter first, then the creature appeared before him.
On two legs, humanoid, it's head looked similar to that of a twisted goat's crown, two horns point backwards over it's mane, the face of a human smashed with an animal.
His clothes looked like a normal human suit beneath a black trench coat, one that was fit for a business man of downtown New York.

The demon chuckled a horrible, black sound that launched itself at Vergil's ears as the man bestowed it a confused reception.

"What beast are you?" He asked the thing.

"You may call me Manah. . ." The demon introduced himself, "I'm here to offer my 'services.'"

Vergil crossed his arms and stood still.

"Then by all means, come in and explain yourself." He replied.

It laughed, "You've a good sense a humor, at least."

The goat's mug was rugged at best, looking like it was fed glass from year one. It smirked. An ugly sight.

Vergil returned to his desk, deciding to entertain the thought of whatever this being was. Beholden to humankind, this creature was so many thing.
Manah took a seat on the visitor's chair before the desk, resting his clawed-hands on the wooden arm rests, stroking them as he began to submit his offer.

"I'm impressed by your tame reaction, Nelo Angelo." It teased, but his tone was calm and unchanging, the demon crossed his legs and laid back on the chair, resting, "All's well in hell's well."

The phrase was a silly little rhyme that was meant to mock humanity, the meat bags that they were.
Such a twisted thing, now said as casual conversation. Vergil was unnerved, the entity knew him by his service to the dark one.

"You have ten seconds to explain. After that, your head is going on my wall." Vergil replied, adding, "What do you want?"

"Hmmhmmhmm. . . ! I like you. So many others are too busy trying to anticipate what I want, or they've already pissed themselves, but you! . . . You really do live up to the reputation of a General."
The demon crossed his fingers and rested his knuckles under his chin as he leaned forward. There was a genuine spark of interest in his eyes.
"I'd expect nothing less from Mundus, his standards for his armies are high. But, lets not just waste time discussing your service record, there's business to attend to."

"You have three more seconds, worm." The slayer laid it bare.

"Yes, I suppose so. . ." It paused for a little while, "Something strange is happening, and it's beginning to threaten my operation.
Now, I'm not so stupid as to trifle with a Son of Sparda, that's where most of our kind goes wrong. The fools have good reason, but lack the intelligence and firepower.
So, here's what I propose. You fix something for me, and I'll be willing to help you out, anything that you ask."

Vergil raised an eyebrow, "Anything?"

"Anything."

The man thought about it, it was such a random occurrence. Why now? He at least could admire it's brains, it might be even smarter than Mundus.
Perhaps it had to do with Lucia, her mysterious reappearance, her condition. So many mysteries to unfold, perhaps it would be a smart choice to play the demon's game.

"Answer my questions first, then we'll see if I can help you." Vergil told him.

The demon sighed, "Very well, ask away. I grant you three."

"First thing, have you ever seen that woman before?" He pointed, eyes made of steel, hissing, "I'll know if you're lying."

The goat looked over at the red-head resting on the couch.
It shrugged, looking at him with an honest lack of knowledge.

"I see. What is your relation to Mundus?"

It chuckled a bit, "Haha, my boy, I'm the former adviser to his unholiness, before your time."

There was a period of silence, Vergil hadn't expected that response, could he really trust this thing?
Desperate times, he supposed. The goat's eyes were glaringly obvious, hidden behind a critical red sheen. It's pointy chin didn't inspire much confidence.
Vergil knew though, it was old, far older than he, maybe even older than Mundus. Was that possible? Next and last question.

"Alright. . . Whose charge are you under?" The slayer finally spoke.

"None, I'm a 'free agent,' so to speak. Satisfied?" It told him.

Damn it, he could sense the creature was telling the truth, it's chemical releases remained flat. He was out of questions too, knowing a bastard like this, that would probably count as the compensation.
So it had come to this, discussing business with a nordic beast, a creature older than this very world. Though he despised it, Vergil knew this monster wouldn't take no for an answer.

Damn it!

". . . Yes." He muttered, "I'll help you."

The beast smiled, it's teeth horrid and stained black.

"Good. I'm pleased with your professionalism." It remarked on his attitude.

"Mhmm. . ." He grumbled, "So what seems to be the 'problem?'"

"I sensed someone trying to invade me, steal my power a few days back. They were aided by two-headed wolves. I knew right then that he was somehow connected to the surviving Son of Sparda."

Two headed wolf? His memory went back to his fight against the savior.
Wolves were among some of the creatures he saw there. . . Summoned to stop him.

"Why? What do the wolves have to do with Sparda?"

The demon looked slack-jawed for a second.

"You're serious? The wolves were part of Sparda's guard, his legions. After his exile from the demon world, the wolves were one of the few creatures to stand with him."

Vergil's eyes opened further and he leaned in, seeking more.

"Ah, I take it Sparda chose not to share that aspect of his history."

"You guessed correctly." The slayer responded through gritted teeth, then relaxed, "Are you saying my father is still alive?"

"Oh no, no." It said, "Make no mistake, your father is long gone, but his forces remain here on Earth, tethered to all that he was."

This was getting convoluted.

"So, what does that mean? Someone else has been controlling them? There's no one with that kind of power, that purity." Vergil was trying to make sense of it.

"That's precisely the dilemma, my dear- erhm, associate." The creature explained, "Who is controlling them? Why have they abandoned Sparda's will?"

Ah, so now it was making sense.

"Dogs are loyal friends, no matter how filthy they are. So, that's the situation. Make of it what you will. . ." The demon motioned off to the side, not caring.

"You were wise to come to me, Manah. An issue like this should be handled by next of kin. I'll need additional details, some provisions as well. What method of contact do you prefer?"

"No need, I'll be assisting you directly." The beast told him.

Wait what?

"Really? How do you expect to help me when your face looks as though a man beat it with a shovel?"

Manah grinned before sliding his hand over his face, and in the blink of an eye, his head metamorphosed a human visage.
Black, swept back hair accompanied by red eyes and slightly pale skin replaced an image of ancient hell.

"My appearance is more appealing now, I suppose?" He laughed, before getting back to business, "I know it's not perfect, some things remain demonic. Like my eyes, the eyes are still red aren't they?"

"They are still red, yes." Vergil quickly said.

"Damn it!" He hissed, waving his hand in front his face again, there was no change.

He asked again calmly, "What about now?"

"Still red." Vergil told him.

"Confounded. . . One moment," He said as it unexpectedly scratched off the plates of its eyes, forcing them to regenerate, "Any difference?"

"Um, no." The slayer said, unmoved.

The demon gave up, throwing out his left wrist and shrugging, "Ah well, tasks for later."

Out of nowhere Manah stared at him with an unknown observation. It was as if something was behind him, or that he was looking at something on the side of his head.
Was he looking at something over his shoulder? There was nothing behind him except a bookcase, full of different little trinkets and books that weren't of any importance.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Vergil asked.

Manah passed it off and looked away.

"What do you know about the wolfs bite?" He questioned the beast, unsure he would answer.

Manah shook his head, "Wolves don't carry poisons. I assume you're speaking of your foreign friend over there?"

Vergil nodded, "Her scent gives it away."

"Indeed. I sense a blood curse flowing through her veins. Perhaps it can be lifted by taking something from them. . . Do some black magic, yeah?"

The slayer sighed, "So, she's sleeping beauty, huh? What kind of black magic?"

The demon smirked an egotistical eye, "Oh, we'll find just the thing. I've a good mind which procession to apply."

"Hmph, what are your powers beyond brokering?"

"I can make individuals confess their darkest secrets, slip crazy thoughts into their brains and destroy them slowly, schizophrenic suggestion, that sort of thing."

The morning band was passing swiftly. That early dew was drying out, spreading thin.
Under the damned rays of the sun, this demon was in plain sight. Did he walk over here? No, of course not, he's conspicuous as a human already.
Would this work? The stability is fragile, he was dead-sure he couldn't trust it, but. . . It's knowledgable, it could be useful to him.

"So, by reputation, I gather you're the one they call 'Lucifer's son.'"

The mention of the nickname made the creature agitated.

"Please, Lucifer is old hat. I don't associate anymore, though I can't control what humans call me. It used to be Beelzebub, or the Morning Star, that one stuck for a long time.
Either way it doesn't matter, that was then, this is now. The threat to our world's fundamental mechanics supersedes all alignments. Do we have a deal, Vergil?"

"Our world?" The slayer refused that connection, "This is the realm of humanity, you can't be serious."

"Yes. Our world. Though I may dwell in darkness, I assure you my place is within this dominion, I am the devil you know and I like the way things are right now."

In exchange for this classical Fiend's help, he had to assist him, skulking about in search of a shadowy figure. Just like always.
There was a bitter silence between them, each knowing the situation was not ideal. Manah didn't like working with those he felt beneath him.
Despite his status as a son of Sparda, the Arch Devil was displeased at the boy's age, and worse still, his stab-ridden reputation.

He might hinder them more than aid, but still. There was a viable bargain here. Both sought to protect the human to differing degrees and for differing reasons.

"So. . . Do we have a deal?"

"Yes. We have a deal, Manah." Vergil replied.

"Fantastic." The demon commented cheerfully, "So, when do we start?"

"Uh. . . Dante!?" Patty called from upstairs.

Before Vergil had a chance to do something, Manah responded, "Hello child, I'm a new partner at this firm."

Patty opened the door and ran out, "Who are you?"

"Oh. . . I have so many names." He winked at her, "Just call me Manah, it'll be easier."

"Patty, get back upstairs." Vergil interfered.

"Relax, halfling," It told him, "It's not like I eat children, er-. . . Anymore."

He gazed back at the demon, baring frosty eyes that could kill on the spot.

"I might've agreed to this deal but let's get one thing clear," He faced the demon, "One slip-up, just one reason to believe you might hurt Patty, and I'll make sure your deals end. . . Permanently."

His voice was laced with a corrosive venom, sweltering an indomitable rage beneath. The demon knew Vergil wasn't playing around. Manah didn't care.

"Understood." He said, not exactly losing the sarcasm, "'Boss.'"

. . .

The house had become aware of itself, of the history that echoed within these molded walls. Somewhere within, merged into the torture, were images of soft flowers.

The nature that house craved entered bit by bit, brick by brick - the birdsong, the blossom, and the sunshine.

Gone was the burning throne.

. . .

There at the dawn, the house changed, and so too did the times

Outside was dark, the dense water vapor blocking out the morning light, casting us in premature twilight. Round the bend, the home was darker, almost pitch-black inside, but it didn't matter much.
They could see out just fine. On the far hill, a jagged bolt of white-hot lightening splits the chilly sky, and then it's gone. A man felt himself dying ever so slowly.

He felt his friend place something cold on his forehead.

The touch of the other world came slowly, growing upon him like leprous scabs.

"Sparda?" He whispered, entranced by the demon's shining aura.

"Don't speak," Sparda replied, his voice both soothing and tortured, "It's over."

"Why did you do that?" A man named Modeus opened his eyes, barely seeing through his blurry sight. A purple coat lay near his bed, it belonged to the man who'd just spoken to him.

"You shouldn't have engaged in a fight in your current state. You were reckless, you know I'm disappointed." Sparda was calm but still sensed the anger within.

"What would've happened to Baul if he killed you?" The dark knight had a good point.

Modeus closed his eyes again and took a breath. . . Flashes of the duel ran through his mind. He could almost feel it still running through his flesh.
It was the lowest moment, even for him. A sense of recklessness had reduced him to an ill demon, one who needs someone to save them. He lacked the strength his brother did.

"Yes of course, I'm a fool. I am in your debt Sparda. . . Always."

. . .

Such an inauspicious start for an unforgettable series of memories this house was to witness. Of course, that was before it was left to rot.

So many reasons he felt a sense of duty toward that man's children. . . He wouldn't slack off ever, no matter what happens.

"Sparda!" Modeus whispered.

He remembered it like yesterday.

When this house was his, the first time he departed, the devil had chosen to move along with him, to fight back in the great war, but now it laid abandoned amidst a far larger forest.

After everything that had happened in Fortuna, he could see Lady had followed Vergil. . . He chose not to understand what happened there. He was Dante, but not really Dante!?

Absurd. The children of Sparda were fated to be allies, but somehow, that destiny came undone. Eva was taken before her time, a machination by Mundus.
Fool, that beast knew not what he'd created, a world fractured by a sibling rivalry; a world with no heroes, no fighter truly strong enough to defeat evil.
Somehow, Vergil, who'd become stained by a lust for power, defied this fate, turned against those of the devil's beckoning. . . It was all because of one woman.

Yes, one woman kept him anchored here to this moral obligation. He believed it were true, the connection between was something beyond mere companionship.

He chose to meet Sparda's scion on this day, it was due time for an explanation. That is, if the mercurial prince accepted him. The biggest question he demanded an answer for is why. . .
Why had he wanted to reactivate Temen-ni-gru all those years ago? Why had he forsaken the blood of his mother, the principal's of his father, the love of his brother? Something drove him.

Upon the forest floor laid trees of old, fallen from storms long forgotten.
Modeus tilted his head upward, feeling his hair tumble further down his back. The pines stood several houses tall, reaching toward the golden rays of spring. Yes, spring was the season now, all shined.
Birdsongs came in lulls and breaks, the silence and the singing strung together well, spreading an improvised melody to the lifestream. A new smile painted itself on his forlorn face.

It's time to meet the boy, now grown to a man.

He started walking back through the thick woods surrounding the city. A piercing howl disturbed this place.

"Again?" He spoke aloud, "I don't believe it."

His bloodshot eyes scoured around, looking within the long grass and throughout the timber trees.

All was silent, a chilled breeze the only company, rustling leaves dancing in the wind. His feet crushed branches and fallen plants.

The sludgy sound of his boots through the thicket were so loud his concentration nearly broke. Turning, he saw a shadow move past a tree, one unnaturally tall.

Scanning carefully, the man looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes met a black mass of fur with eyes of deadly nightshade.
Two heads, one crimson-eyed, the other pair glowing frosty blue, both mouths dripping globs of drool caused by hunger.

Its attack came fast and almost surprised him, his heart punching his sternum. He was hardly able to summon his blade to block it, the wolf screeching as its claws scratched his chest.

A spray of blood dotted the forest floor, soaking the tree leaves.

The man fell on his back and rolled over his head, reverse-somersaulting to his feet.

He hissed. . . An energy of fire gathered within his breath and it bore at the beast's chest, scorching the mindless thing on the spot.

The creature scampered back, growling. It's been a long time, a fight had eluded him, or rather he evaded fighting. It felt bizarre.
His brother had been meant the fighter, not himself. However, once again, the wolf returned, braying a dense snarl at his stone face.

It's second head changed, growing brownish colors to it's muzzle and it wired it's jaw closed.

The fog started to escape from the nostrils.

"No!" Modeus whispered, his face betraying his desperation. . . A sense of panic rose.

He could hear more howls approaching him, and by the amount. . . He knew he was surrounded.

He grumbled to himself—the number continued to increase. Where were all these things coming from? He knew he should have left when he had the chance, it just kept getting worse.
Still he had to put a stop to this, the anarchy would end here. Poor souls, he never wished for this, the fights between them all were born of the malicious deeds of an outsider.
Who that was remained to be seen, it seemed a serious mystery was indeed present.

Two monsters charged him, the demon threw himself forward beyond the first's claws, ducking with a slash to it's rotten belly.
It cut open with some force, spilling brown innards as he brought the silver brand into the next one's chest. The edge carved right through.

He chopped the beast in two. More came for him.

Modeus readjusted the grip he had on his sword and his eyes bleached ruby. He parried a claw swipe with an upward swing, sending out sparks, he followed with more flames.
An inferno erupted from his throat, burning one to cinders completely and charring the next few in a shotgun blast. He was liberal with the aim, sparing no angle.

Their dark blood flowed. . . The soil consumed it, drawing the corrupt essence to it's fertile hollow. Shrieks once more, Modeus used a different spell, this time levitating a tree trunk.
He twisted his wrist and the log spun around, close-lining another dog far off into the night as it went for a lunge to the back of his neck. He then took aim and rapid-released.
The wooden beam flew forward like a razor spear, jutting on like an over-sized bullet. The massive javelin tore through a multitude of beasts, a cavalcade of murder blasting through.

"You poor dogs. . ." He mumbled to himself, ". . . How did you end up this way?"

He closed his palms and placed a finger to his mouth.

A number of wolves arrived, hunting the source of the destruction, they never took kindly to deaths of the pack. Some took charge, racing forth at him, but a shield of disturbed earth formed around him.
Inside the broken loam walls, the man started chanting words, a black speech known to all creatures of the night. He could hear the twisted beasts, once his brethren, clawing at the outside of his defense.

"Come forth, Chimera." He yelled.

Through the flames outside came a creature, a lion's body on it's front, a goat's horned-head above the lion's wound into its forehead, a black mane surrounded and a dragon's hind legs. . .
A snake made up the creature's tail and two draconic wings adorned the creature's brown fur, it's wild animal eyes looked for blood, meat.

The amalgam-beast jumped to life, forcing the wolves back one by one. The savages were trying to tear each other apart.

"I'm sorry. . ." He whispered as the walls around him crawled back into the earth. A strange scene unfolded, two-headed beasts vying to destroy the greek demon he'd summoned.

It was overwhelmed, the feral carnivores ganging up around his aide with their caustic fangs born. He clasped his blade and charged onward, heading into an uncertain battle.

. . . Soon, the destruction was over, words were written under the cover of moonlight. . .

There was absolute stillness, consuming everyone's spirit. No breeze stirred the creatures that lived in this land. Rain began.

Water dripped, flowed. Any sounds were drowned out, be it those close at hand or in the far distance from the human-world creatures.

Even his own breath seemed to die as soon as it left his mouth. It was eerie tranquility, so instead of being soothed, his demonic senses heightened.
His spirit was bent and there was blood on his hands. It was as if the world outside were encased in a cocoon, a bubble, and there wasn't any way out.

"The more I'm down, the less I understand. . ." Modeus was quiet, all in this fight had perished, including a small part of himself. No choice now, he had to venture back to the city and finally meet Vergil.

. . .

Nighttime stretched ahead as long as the road he'd traveled in the daylight hours, now charcoal-hued and cold.

The birds were silenced, no-one walked the streets, the only serenade being the ever present rumble from the tanks that crumbled the highway to dark and dusty fragments.
He wanted to go there earlier but there've been certain things he wished to check on before the conference. It took him long before he was ready to walk on.

The neon sign flickered ever so often, the letter C at least.

He went over the steps and knocked on the door. At first there was silence before he heard an acknowledgement, "Come in."

He opened the entrance slowly, creeping his head through to see a gothic office. It was gorgeous, especially that chandelier, that was new, different from last time.
There sat a white-haired man in his chair, the incomparable ghost of a man he once revered so highly. The man was staring blankly at him, those eyes. . . So familiar. They sent a shiver down his spine.
He walked through, taking care to close the door gently inside, and he noted Vergil's look was one of resentment and general hatred.

"Well?" Vergil asked him, remembering him vaguely as the man who'd appeared with Lady on Fortuna.

"At last, I meet you son of Sparda." He spoke before taking a seat.

"Who are you?" Vergil questioned, "Why were you there that day?"

"Ah yes, forgive me, we didn't have the proper introduction at that time. My name is Modeus, I'm your father's pupil."

Vergil rested his head on his fist for a moment. Remembering the time he 'met' him, back in Fortuna, "Are you also here to make me a deal?"

"No." He said flatly, "For now, I would to merely talk with you."

Vergil chortled, "I'm not one for conversation."

"Understandable." Modeus replied.

He noticed a red head laid out on a couch alongside two briefcases. A man's coat that smelled of someone besides Vergil was hanging on the rack.
A small child made her way downstairs, a blonde whom Modeus recognized from her scent, she'd been near Lady before the Savior's brief rebirth.

"Hey Dante, I'm getting hungry, when's Tony getting back with takeout- Oh! Another visitor?" Patty was growing hungry, but she didn't forget courtesy, "Would you like some tea?"

"Ah, no thanks, dear." He said with a bright smile, merely waving a hello to her.

She returned his greeting then grabbed a snack from the counter to hold her over.
Taking her leave, she fled upstairs to continue playing a card game she'd found in Dante's study.

Returning to the reason he'd come here, "If you need help with anything, please do not hesitate to seek me. I want to be by your side, to honor the memory of your father."

"Hmph, all the best memories are hers. . ." Vergil replied, referring to his mother, "What do you know about the wolves?"

"I know for certain they're not how they used to be, someone has changed their nature. . . Today, I ran into a large pack of them. They tried to feed from me."

Vergil couldn't hide his surprise, " A pack? . . . Well, that's not good." He pointed at the sleeping woman on the couch, "I found her hanging from a street lamp, she has a wolf bite on her collar bone."

Modeus' eyes flared and he went over to the woman, kneeling down beside her to check the wound he spoke of. He could sense her life, it still spoke strongly.
But, she was certainly fading, a blood curse of some kind, not one that forces the victim to be a wolf themselves, but. . . Something else. . . Something. . . Sinister.
He gazed back at Vergil and froze for a moment.

It was the same damned look he'd gotten from his new 'partner,' earlier.

"Why are people staring at my face today? Do I have a parasite or something?" Vergil grumbled, annoyed.

Modeus took a breath and looked away, "My apologies."

He regulated his breathing, returning his attention to victim, "Please, allow me to join you for the time-being. I have to investigate."

Vergil smirked, "Yeah, okay. I'll round everyone up."

To Be Continued

(LxJ Note Here)

Thank you for reading everyone, I hope you had fun with this. :)

This was definitely fun to work on. The possibilities to expand the world and make it more interesting are endless. . .at least to me.

It works perfect for the storyline development.

What do you guys think?

Beta Reader Here: Hey there, here's some more production notes.

I'll just let you know this chapter was a pleasure to make, the whole thing fell together seamlessly. Far easier than it's predecessor by a long shot.
A lot of cool plot developments happened, mainly because Lilian wished to expand the nature of her DMC universe to beyond the usual scope you'd find in the games.
There's also an introduction of magic here, as in potent, actual demonic magic. I added that, I often feel whenever anyone adds magic to a series it's lame.
This is because the author just hints at it or the magic is low-level, so I figured that I would try to spare the story this and make the magic something a little more potent, tangible.

Also, yes, Manah is a definite OC, and a very morally ambiguous character. You'll see more of him as Season 2 goes on.

Song inspirations were, as follows:

And finally, Bridge Of Sighs by Robin Trower.

Lots o' music I recommend. That's all for now.