Burn
Chapter One: Corridor
Most would assume that Valentine's Day would be the farthest thing from demonic activity; that the distinction belonged to Halloween. Any seasoned devil hunter could attest to it. The usual trend would dip after October and spike in February. Like clockwork. Just like on Halloween, the majority of Valentine incidents were usually mishaps caused by stupidly curious teenagers or horny loner stalkers in contact with hack hedge witches on Craigslist.
They would of course collect the money and hand over a potion made with cheap perfume, inferior ingredients, and rife with inadequate substitutions. And who would protest? What point of reference would these suckers have to differentiate a real spell from a fake. A well-meaning love spell here, a mangled Latin pronunciation there, and presto— instant demon summoning.
The cherry on top? Poor Joe Schmo wouldn't bother to call for help until everything spiraled out of control. How bad? An open-rift-near-a-Hell-Gate-spewing-demons bad.
Of course, Lady, Trish, Dante, and sometimes even Vergil would fight and close the rift. Sparda only knew where Nero, Kyrie, and Nico were with that indestructible van. It was all grueling and exhausting. Lady usually would lecture the idiots and then they would drink themselves into oblivion.
"Next time, we should just let them… BURRP! …Burn." Dante once said after his twentieth shot of gin.
They would laugh. He didn't mean it. He never did. They knew he'd never forgive himself if a human got hurt on his watch.
But there's always a new year and other demon summoning idiots. The usual.
Then, came something new.
Headlines across the city read about 13 men who spontaneously combusted after murdering their lovers. The media sensationalized the deaths because they coincided with the arrival of the holiday. Wild speculations pointed fingers at everything from someone poisoning the water supply with psychotropic drugs to the emergence of some murder cult. The whole affair was leaving everyone on edge, which worked out well for bottled water distributors.
Lady had decided that the whole situation reeked of demons. She hadn't bothered to run it past Dante, Trish, or even Vergil. She investigated the whole thing herself and called in several favors. She learned more details that were kept under wraps. These couples' relationships ranged from a recent first date to several years of commitment. The one thing that was consistent across the board was that each couple enjoyed many hours of wild and rough sex before one lover was brutally murdered and the other went up in flames. Her leads brought her to an apartment building that had seen better days.
As it turned out, the deaths were of a different nature that she would have never anticipated.
Who would have thunk it, really? Mythological creatures did exist and Lady stood face to face with him; the man, the myth, the legend who was synonymous with Valentine's Day. And here she thought that if Cupid were real, he'd be a winged, cherub-child with a bow and arrow. Yes, he would be the comedic figure of countless children's cartoons, Hallmark cards, and garden ornaments.
How could the imagery she had grown up with had been so wrong?
For starters, the man, or at least what his current form would be called, stood at an intimidating seven and a half feet tall. He was handsome, despite the angered snarl etched into his face. Under different circumstances she would, of course, fawn over his Adonis-like build; his sun-kissed skin, and perhaps even his lightly tussled russet hair. Hell, she would have even mused over the fact that he was as nude as his many depictions, which seemed to be the only thing that popular culture got right.
But, no. The look in his silver eyes pushed things into a different direction. They threatened unspeakable horrors.
His left hand held a wicked-looking wooden crossbow emblazoned with silver olive leaves and sheathed at his hip was a sword with a length that would put Rebellion to shame. Every fiber of sinew in his body tensed and rippled with a quiet rage. He looked like he was going to tear her into pieces right where she stood. Lady wondered, what have I done to piss him off so badly?
He lifted his crossbow and took aim at the raven-haired woman. Just then her dual-colored eyes widened in utter fright with beads of sweat glistening on her brow. No demon, in all her years of hunting had ever brought on such panic.
Yet, in expecting this to be a fight she could never win, Lady instinctively drew a pair of handguns and unloaded the clips into the approaching figure. It didn't surprise her in the least to see the rounds she unleashed, collapse and bounce off his flesh like insects on a windshield. No surprises, but unnerving all the same. Still, she accomplished something— the arrow was off course under her furious shots.
A chill goose-pimpled her skin. She felt the fear nearly seize the beating of her heart and the bile threatening to rise out of her throat.
He reached over his shoulder, producing another glowing silver arrow from an invisible quiver. And she was frozen, rooted in place as he drew his ammo back in the weapon's cocking mechanism. He squeezed his trigger, freeing the arrow to rifle down at his target.
Lady would have caught it straight in the chest, had it not been for a silver and blue blur that charged her down to the floor.
She closed her eyes, expecting impact from something pointy, never the well-muscled mass that bowled right into her.
Lady opened her eyes to see Vergil panting and sweating with his body curled around hers, attempting to shield her from the crazed god. She was even more surprised to see that he had taken an arrow for her. Its long silver shaft had pierced through his back while its tip jutted out dangerously close to his beating heart. Even more alarming was watching the arrow bouncing in rhythm to his heartbeat.
"We have to keep moving," he said.
Never minding the arrow or the blood dripping from his wound, Vergil pulled Lady to her feet. He led her through the snaking corridors. His fingers tapped the walls periodically as if he was marking his path or using some sort of demonic echolocation. She wished she knew.
They dead ended at a fire escape barred with chains and locks. Of course, Vergil broke them easily. However, the pair found themselves deterred by a flight of incomplete concrete stairs. Whether they had crumbled away by fault of shoddy construction or a trap set by the beast chasing them, Lady and Vergil didn't know. Nor would they stick around long enough to find out.
Vergil grabbed her again, whisking her back into the hall. Lady nearly tripped over her own feet, barely able to regain her footing. He backtracked the halls looking for an alternate escape, all the while maintaining a tight grip on her arm, leading her along. His fingers continued to tap the walls, but at a more frantic pace.
"Something isn't right," he said.
Lady's lungs burned as they bounded down several sets of labyrinthine hallways. Vergil, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down. She could not fathom how Vergil managed to push on despite his wounds.
"We need to stop and rest. Maybe I can take a look at that wound," Lady said.
"No. We're leaving. He could still be tailing us." He tapped the walls again. "Shit."
Lady's eyebrow quirked up at his uncharacteristic language.
"I'm not saying that we should pull up a cot and stay here. We need to take a break, get our shit together, and find a way out; because I'm pretty sure we've been going around in circles. I'm tired! I know you must be too. For Pete's sake you have an arrow sticking out of your chest!"
She gestured towards the arrow, watching it with an almost hypnotic fascination as it continued to bounce at a quicker rate. He stopped and stood for a second, seeming to digest what she said. Lady could see his hesitancy.
He nodded in affirmation. "It would be best for us to catch our breaths and collect our wits."
After a few more twists and turns, Lady found a room further down the hallway. They closed the lead painted door behind them. Lady locked its many dead bolts and he pushed a shelf against the door to barricade it. She prayed they'd hold.
Lady patted herself down in search of her cell phone. She deflated at the thought of having lost her lifeline to backup. Still, life continued on and Vergil's injury was far more pressing.
She helped Vergil ease himself into a sitting position on the floor. Lady clicked on a mini flashlight from her ammo belt. Her rummaging through the small apartment helped her to find a forgotten and nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He pointed out some dusty linens covering old, neglected furniture. She promptly tore them into strips.
"It's not exactly clean, but it will have to do," Lady said. She splashed some whiskey on a cloth.
She returned to Vergil's side in time to see him press his back against a wall, which pushed the arrow farther out of his chest along with more blood spurts.
His heart rate was understandably elevated, which she could only tell with the bobbing arrow. She watched him work without so much as a grunt or grimace of pain. Lady only heard him breathe a quiet hiss or pause to take a deep breath every now and then. She reasoned that he was either forcing his machismo to power through the pain or he was trying to be as quiet as possible as to not give away their position.
The only thing that marred his trademark mask of stoicism were the tears trailing down his face, the bit of sweat on his brow, and his heavy, deep breaths. Had he been Dante, she'd never let him live it down. But this was Vergil; the twin who would never dare show such vulnerability. She simply turned her head, pretending not to notice.
Vergil took a few deep breaths and reached behind his back. He snapped the remainder of the arrow, breaking off the feathered portion of the shaft. More poured down his chest at the disturbance.
"What are you doing?" Lady asked. She positioned the cloths ready for an even bloodier mess.
"It's easier to extract it this way," Vergil stated.
He leaned his head against the wall and allowed his arms to drop to his sides. His breaths grew heavier. He suddenly lost the energy to finish the job.
She took a swig and offered him some. Vergil declined.
"We're almost there," Lady said, "just a little more." She felt a little silly having said that, knowing that he had been doing all of the work.
She leaned in to assist with the arrow.
"Don't touch it!" He barked out a wet cough. Blood painted his lips and dripped to his chin.
Lady dropped her hands and gave a raised eyebrow. Is he suddenly concerned about pain?
"Could be poisoned." His voice softened as if he had heard her thought.
Lady nodded. He rested his head against the wall.
She wrapped a strip around it. She pulled it the rest of the way out with a sick pop as if it had scraped against his ribs. Lady packed and wrapped his wounds with the linens she found.
He stayed quiet through her ministrations.
"I've got a Vital Star. It's not big, but it'll help," she spoke again.
"No." Vergil shook his head, "Save it. You'll probably need it later. This is nothing."
She visually assessed his current condition. His forehead was growing sweatier, he was shaking like a leaf, and he was already a few shades paler than his usual pallor. He looked like he was going into shock. Lady began to wonder if the arrow sliced into a major artery or if it did indeed hit his heart. With the blood he had been coughing up earlier, she wouldn't be surprised if he also injured a lung.
She briefly debated if Vergil was trying to be macho or noble. It stood to reason that he wouldn't want to use a precious resource if he would wind up healing on his own. Although, if he could, wouldn't he have done it by now?
"What the hell is it with you two?" Lady huffed in disbelief.
"What?" Confusion settled onto Vergil's face. Lady couldn't tell if it was the shock or if he was truly that dense.
"You and Dante. This bravado you two play up whenever you are hurt. Just bury your pride and take the damned Star."
He still shook his head no. Moments later; his eyelids began to droop.
"Don't you dare!" Lady reached over and slapped him across the jaw.
"You hit me." Vergil stated in quiet disbelief.
His shoulders shuddered as he attempted to mask another wheezing cough.
"You were falling asleep. I can't let you do that." She looked down and saw one of the cloths completely soaked in red. "Besides, if you die, then Dante would go into his moping emo phase again." Lady visibly shuddered.
Vergil mustered a smirk and a slight chuckle. "Didn't know you cared."
Crazy how this was one of the few moments Lady saw the brothers' similarities aside from the superficial.
Lady gave a nonchalant hum and shrugged. "I don't. But be glad that you've never seen Dante's emo phase."
She placed the Vital Star in his hand. "Your brother once taught me a long time ago that needing help from time to time doesn't make you weak. True strength comes from learning how to ask for it."
"I'll keep that in mind." He bit into the demonic artifact and sipped at the contents, trying to hide his sneer at its bitter taste.
"Now hold still. I'll probably need to pack it then redress this."
"I swear I'll haunt you if I catch sepsis from this." Vergil's face remained deadpanned with just one corner of his lips twitching upwards.
"D-Did. Did you just crack a joke?" Lady stopped and stared in momentary disbelief. "God, even your joke is as dark as Dante's. Poor timing too! You two are spending way too much time together!"
"Hold this here." She grabbed his hand to help hold a makeshift bandage in place, but felt something odd.
"Wait a second." Lady gently placed her fore and middle fingers on the inside of Vergil's left wrist.
"Whoa. This isn't right," she said. She held those same fingers up to his neck.
"What?"
"Your pulse. It's racing really fast. 204. No, 210 beats per minute. Since you're not currently running a marathon and I didn't see you down two cases of Monster energy drinks or snort lines of coke I can only guess it's from the poison or shock from the blood loss. Either way we need to bring it down. You'll need to take some deep breaths or make with the samurai mediation."
A genuine smile found its way to Vergil's bloody face. He let out a weak laugh.
"I don't see what's so funny."
"You said 'samurai mediation'."
He had thought against talking her through the proper workings of meditation, mindfulness, Kata, Iaido, and where his mind and body should intersect. Instead, he kept hearing his brother's voice echoing in his head. Geez, you're such a nerd!
"Never mind." Vergil continued to smile, "I could recite poetry. Do you like Blake?"
"Sure. Whatever you want. Just do it quickly. Your heart rate is getting higher." Her fingers remained on his carotid pulse.
"2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59," Vergil muttered a quick succession of seemingly random numbers.
"What are you doing?"
"Removing my thoughts from the situation with prime numbers. Dante does it too."
"What?"
"Do you remember telling me about an altercation from a few weeks ago? A man who tried to pick a with fight with Dante in a bar. You said that Dante was in his own world for a moment almost as if he didn't notice the man yelling at him. Then, he came back to himself, smiled, told the man to have a nice day and left."
"Right. It was so creepy."
"You and I both know that Dante could have chosen to instigate a fight with that man. He would have not only easily won that battle, but possibly maimed or killed that man. He would have likely caused property damage, endangered nearby civilians, and you. He and I must work to keep anger and aggression at bay. There are several simple methods that we use to calm ourselves."
Lady silently digested his words.
"As despicable as some humans may act, they don't deserve our punches whether we're 'having a bad day' or not. Dante and I… and even Nero need to hold our demons back. One way to do it is by reciting prime numbers from least to greatest until we get to 1,000, recite the multiples of 7 backwards, all U.S. Presidents in order, States in alphabetical order, then spell them, maybe a few Fibonacci Sequences, or all of England's Monarchs whenever we cannot meditate."
Lady nodded. "Well, keep it up. You're down to 130."
"61, 67, 71, 73, 79, 83, 89, 97, 101, 103, 107, 109—" Vergil continued before devolving into whispers and then completely trailing off into silence.
Lady wondered if he was counting mentally.
The stillness unsettled her. Lady kept watch between Vergil and the door. She couldn't help but notice that despite the Vital Star, he didn't seem to be getting much better.
Vergil's eyes closed again.
"Hey!"
His silver-blue eyes shot open at her shout.
"It was only a blink," he slowly whispered.
"Blink my ass! The slowest blink ever!" Lady tore more linen strips, growing more concerned with Vergil's sluggish behavior. Half-devil or not, he would not be able to hold out long.
"Vergil. Do you have a phone?"
He gave a slow nod and attempted to reach into one of his front pants pocket. He couldn't retrieve it. His struggle was sad.
"May I?"
He gave up and leaned back against the wall. Eerily still again. Lady reached over and pulled out the cell phone. She released a sad sigh.
"Screen's smashed. Probably from saving me from that… thing."
Sit Rep: They were trapped in a dilapidated apartment building, hiding out from a mythological deity with no cell phone or any other means to call for help. Then there was the half-devil slowly bleeding out in the corner.
She took his pulse again. 42 and getting slower. Shit!
Even worse, was the stillness of it all. The maddening calm like the eye of a hurricane. Lady steeled herself, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She needed to cut into the silence. Some noise. Something to drown out her pessimistic thoughts and keep Vergil awake. Anything.
"So, what's your middle name?"
He blinked, registering her question.
"What's yours," he gave a weak whisper. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The sight made her smile.
"Yeah. I know. It's random." She shrugged. "But you need to stay awake. Keep talking. Say the first thing that comes to mind. Anything."
"Anything?"
"Yeah."
"Dante once got so drunk that he proposed to a mop."
"Yeah?" She continued working on his wounds.
Vergil nodded and Lady stifled a laugh as the images came to mind.
"Something else comes to mind? A nice family memory."
"Mother wanted the two of us to focus on learning something other than swordsmanship. She probably knew that being the heirs of mankind's savior would be a heavy burden to bear and also wanted us to have some semblance of a normal childhood. She abhorred violence and at the very least, wanted us to be educated in the arts. Father agreed. Perhaps to keep her happy."
He began shivering, but continued talking. "So, like me, he is a classically trained pianist. Though I doubt he kept practicing it after—" a coughing fit cut him off. Lady figured he probably meant after they were separated.
"Really? Since when?"
"We started at age 4."
"Aww," Lady cooed.
"Mrs. Lebedev was a tough old lady, but we could do a few classics by the time we were six. She said, 'Nursery rhymes are for infants' and then handed us each sheet music to Liszt's La Campanella and Chopin's Étude Opus 25, Number 11 or Winter Wind. They were c-complicated p-p-pieces that might make a grown man cry and she demanded perfection. Ask him about Rondo Alla Turca. He'll know what it m-m-means."
His teeth chattered and his skin was getting cold and as pale as the bandages.
"Remind me next time we see him. He'd probably deny it all," she said, "Anymore dirt?"
He shook his head, eyelids sliding close again.
"You gotta keep talking. How about the tapping? You were tapping on the walls earlier. What was that about? A nervous tick or something?"
His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. It appeared that it was becoming more difficult for him to gather his thoughts.
"There's an… intricate barrier spell cast on the whole building."
"I didn't see anything." Surely her priestess ancestry or occult studies would have helped her notice.
"Didn't see it either. Can't see it. Only feel it. Can only trust your memory."
"Riddles? Really?! Right now?"
Vergil coughed up more blood, then spoke again. He didn't move to wipe it off his mouth and chin. Lady figured he was probably losing the energy to do so. She quickly tore at the sheets again and promptly began cleaning him up.
"F-felt doors that I didn't see. Walls where I saw doors. Kept getting turned around in the same spot. Like M.C. Escher's stairs."
"Illusions? Someone is keeping us here with that thing. Why?"
Vergil nodded. "That's a good question."
"So, that fire exit?"
"Might be real… Maybe not. Wouldn't chance it."
"How do we break the spell?"
The room became quiet for a beat. Vergil had a distant gaze in his eyes. She wondered if he was thinking of a tactic or counting.
Lady grabbed his shoulders. "How do we get out," she insisted.
"Oh!" He whispered.
"What?"
It was silent again.
"You need to go," Vergil finally said, his blue eyes shifting to make full eye contact.
"Bullshit! I'm not leaving you here!"
He hacked up more blood onto the floor and began weakly finger tracing odd symbols through it. Lady stood over him and started pulling at his other arm. He gathered enough strength to swat her away.
"The hell?! We need to get going, now! TOGETHER!"
"I should have figured it out sooner." He gulped and gasped, then continued. "The caster for this spell can't be far. It requires considerable concentration. They would have to stay close."
"They're still in this building?" Lady was shocked. "That's a ballsy move."
Vergil nodded in response.
"I know you've been following those news stories. You already know how those humans died."
"In couples. One is murdered, the other burns to death. I'm guessing either spontaneous combustion or self-immolation, although no accelerants were found at any of the scenes."
"I would have never considered someone conjuring a god. Eros of all things. But why kill so many humans? What's the endgame? You'll have to finish the job. Do what you have to." He paused and took a deep breath. "The mystery spell caster and Eros will not be the only threats. I am not sure how long I can hold it back."
"Hold what back?"
He quietly mumbled some words.
Lady could only piece together a few words that sounded like Latin. An incantation?
"Vergil?"
The barricade slid away from the door.
"Vergil?" He ignored her and continued chanting.
The locks and deadbolts undid themselves in rapid succession.
"What're you doing?"
"You need to run. Now. Or Dante will never forgive me. Nor I."
"I can't leave you here like this."
"You wanted more dirt? My brother is not the only one with a fondness for you. That places you in great danger. So, run, NOW!"
His eyes became wild and fiery. Red bled into his irises, forcing the pale blues to fade away. He gnashed his teeth together revealing sharp fangs. Lady could feel and see a cold, silver aura surrounding his body. That cold, quiet rage. It was not unlike the air of Cupid (or Eros as Vergil called him). He bucked and reached at her. When he did, she noticed faint blue, spectral chains binding him to the floor and wall. A web, with glowing red strands caged him. It glowed with the same intensity as the blood symbols he drew.
A realization finally dawned on her. Vergil was under the same spell as the men she read about. Eros proliferated the magic into these men until the spell overwhelmed and scorched their bodies. Thanks to Vergil's quick thinking, he was restrained, preventing his inner demon from ravishing her.
"RUN!" Vergil let out an unearthly roar.
Without another thought, her body obeyed. Lady left the apartment and sprinted down one of the long corridors.
Her mind flitted to one of her many sparring sessions with the twins. She thought of one time she fought Vergil. His weapon of choice was bokken. She of course had one of her own, to match her opponent's. Dante coached from the sidelines to help make her swings and contact more effective.
"Widen your stance a little," he'd say. Followed by an occasional "Lift your elbow, maintain your footing."
As the mock-battle went on, Vergil upped the pressure. He made the wooden sword whistle and cut through the air. Whenever Lady blocked, the impact rattled her bones. They made her grit her teeth.
"Dammit, Verge! Dial it back eleven notches. Not everyone is a sword master with superhuman strength. Dante shouted.
Vergil's attacks increased speed without him breaking a sweat. "Your enemies never lessen their speed or blow for you in the field just because they sense that you may be weaker, dear brother," Vergil retorted, "No enemy will allow Lady such luxuries and liberties. Doing that here, will be a disservice to her skills and development. Isn't that right, Lady?"
At this point Vergil bokken movements were becoming blurs.
"Dante…" Lady huffed. She was already out of breath. "He's right… It's the point of training."
"In that case, never hesitate. Focus on your own battle sense. Do what you have to do," a smirk flashed onto Vergil's face.
Vergil bowed and walked away.
The spar session dissipated as quickly as it entered her mind.
Do what you have to. Vergil's words echoed in her mind. Lady understood the implications. They made her wince and seethe. Dante had always told her there would be a time where a friend would not be in their right mind and she would likely need to put them down to protect herself. Lady wished she'd never see the day. Unfortunately, it was here and now. All she could do was move and prepare for battle.
Lady zipped down the halls running a hand along the walls and marking her turns with a pen from her bag. Her mind shifted between her path and Vergil. Sure, he trapped himself in that room in an attempt to keep her safe, but those traps wouldn't hold him for long. It was only a matter of time before he'd break free and find her.
As noble as his intentions, all he'd manage was to give her a head start.
She'd sparred with the twins. She knew their mannerisms. When not inclined to use his weapons, Dante could chase down a fleeing foe in mere seconds, flat. Plus, he could also disrupt the flow of time. Then there was Vergil. Besides his spectral swords, spells, and his ridiculously long katana, he was able to teleport. Lady often wondered if his teleportation was actually the work of time manipulation like his brother.
Had Dante not become a mercenary as a teenager or if Vergil had not become disgusted with humanity and tried to destroy it, how would they have used those abilities? Would they have gotten into sports in high school or college? Exploited their inhuman reflexes for scholarships?
Maybe. Maybe not. Eva probably convinced them to keep their devils a secret.
Those two rarely exercised their full power in her presence. They seemed fearful of scaring or harming one of the few humans in their midst? Either way, one would soon be in pursuit and Lady was unable to call the other for help. She must keep her wits about her and deal with the situation on her own.
She shook those thoughts away and continued on.
Lady ran down another corridor and then another and another. She went up a flight of stairs and made right, then a left. She stopped and felt a pit sink deep into her stomach when she noticed a familiar pen mark on the wall.
"What. The. Fuck?!" The words tumbled out of her mouth.
She wanted to curl up and cry in defeat, but there was no time. But then there it was. That cold aura crept up behind her. Every hair stood up on end. She let out a shiver.
"Maaaarrry." A drawn-out voice echoed down the hall behind her.
She continued running. Sweat dripping. Lungs burning. The same corridors. The same turns. The same marks.
Then came, "Mary." The whisper caressed her right ear with a sudden and light swoosh behind her.
Lady slowly turned in dread. She shuddered at hearing her old name. She dropped to the floor and crab-walked backwards away from Vergil.
Vergil reached for his saya, hesitantly drawing his katana during his staggered steps without another word. The only sounds he made were his haggard breaths and the sliding metal of his blade. His eyes remained cold, but tears still flowed. Even then, he continued to battle himself.
Despite him still looking like an absolute wreck and all the attitude she projected on a daily basis, Lady feared taking Vergil on. Sure, she had thought there might be a day where either brother might go insane and may need to be put to rest for good. But she hadn't thought of doing it alone and with no weapons.
"Oh no," Lady gasped.
Vergil raised his sword and stepped into a stance.
"I failed. I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I'll make it swift." Tears rolled down his tired face.
Before Lady could clench her eyes shut, she saw a flash of light and bright arcs of lighting envelop his body. Despite that, she still expected to feel the blow and the slash of his blade.
In her dark inner retreat, she only heard a CLANG and then a THUD. Then she registered the smell of ozone and burning hair.
Lady opened her again to see Vergil lying crumpled on the floor several feet away. Stiletto boots clicked across the floor and echoed through the hallway.
"Looks like I made it to the party on time."
"Trish?"
"Do you know any others," The blonde woman dressed in black quipped back.
Lady breathed an audible sigh of relief as she briefed her comrade.
"Vergil was hit by a poisoned arrow. He's getting sicker, but it's also making him lose his mind and this place has a hex on it. We tried finding the exit before Vergil tried restraining himself and then began attacking. He mentioned that the spell caster might be around somewhere," Lady said.
"Sounds like you both went through the wringer today," Trish returned.
Trish spotted Lady eyeing Vergil's unconscious form.
"Oh, don't worry about him," Trish said, "He's still alive. I only zapped him with enough juice to knock him out for a little while. It was a good thing he held that sword up nice and high, like his own personal lighting rod." She gave a small giggle.
"How did you find us?" Lady wondered, "I lost my phone before we ended up here."
"That was all Dante and Vergil. Vergil had been worried about you following leads on your own for a long time and had been sending your location especially when you entered a sketchy place like this one. So, he messaged us and I quote…" Trish paused to produce her phone and scroll to the exact message. "Ah. Here it is. 'Something seems amiss about this place. I am going in.' end quote. I think it was super sweet of him. Just so you know, we always got your back."
"You sure did take your sweet time finding us."
Trish put the phone away.
"Dante gave you and Vergil some time to wrap it up before we rushed in. They even agreed on a check in time and everything. When he didn't call, we came. Also, the crazy arrow-shooting deity on the first floor slowed us down a bit. By the way, since I found you first, I won the bet."
"Huh? You made a bet?"
Trish walked to Vergil, gathered his arm over her shoulder and half-dragged him away. "Nothing too crazy. Just some new Balenciaga boots."
Lady collected Yamato, Vergil's prized O-katana and slid it into its saya.
"Wow! And Dante agreed to that? He must have no idea how much they cost." Lady whistled in disbelief.
Trish only giggled as she dragged Vergil's unconscious body to the stairs. Lady followed.
"Any ideas on how to track this mystery caster? I'm sure it takes a lot of juice to summon a god and keep him in a maze. Not to mention piss him off," Lady said.
"Taking out a rogue witch and god. Huh. Don't give up the faith yet. Besides I want those damned boots," Trish grinned, "If we play it just right, maybe we can squeeze these devil boys for two pair."