Arson watched in wide-eyed terror as Dante's car screamed through the road. Trish yawned, looking not the least bit perturbed by Dante's driving.
'Where are we going?' asked Arson. There was no answer. 'Excuse me!' Still no response. Arson sat back dejectedly, feeling that now was not a good time to ask questions. But then again, was it ever a good time to ask questions? He thought not. He slowly dragged out a tattered photograph from his jeans pocket. It had been through a lot, just like him. It had been through water, heat, and it had been damaged physically, just like him. Not only that, but it was his only tie to his father. Arson looked at the picture sadly.
It depicted his father as a boy roughly around his age. His black streaked silver hair shone up brightly in the picture, almost giving him a strange shine, as though showing that he was someone who was special. His grandmother stood behind him. Arson wondered about the woman. He had never met her before, though he had often wondered what she was like. He imagined that she was someone of immense kindness. But then again, one could never be sure. Living with his mother had taught him that. He had learnt that lesson only too well.
Dante turned to see what was keeping the boy so quiet when he came to a red light. He caught a hasty glimpse of the picture and then turned pale. Without a sound, he snatched the picture away from Arson. Trish looked over his shoulder as she watched his face drain of all colour.
'That's Maya isn't it?' Dante made no reply. Arson watched his face turn an unhealthy shade of green.
'Are you feeling sick, sir?' Dante shook his head but then nodded. Trish turned around and tried to smile at Arson.
'He'll be okay. Don't worry about him.' Arson sat back, feeling somewhat worried.
'Can I have my photo back, please?' Trish tried to pry away the picture. Dante suddenly let it drop numbly. He swallowed hard and then gripped the steering wheel tightly. Trish watched in alarm as his knuckles turned white from the amount of pressure he was exerting onto his hands.
'Dante…' she whispered. Dante made no effort to reply. They finally pulled up in front of a dark alleyway. Dante allowed himself to smile, though his nerves were on edge, and though he felt as if he had just been on several roller coasters in a row. Demons always seemed to choose alleys to hide out in. It made hunting for them a lot easier if you knew where to go. It saved time as well. Dante was thankful for his extra senses; demons rarely killed once the phone call was made to Devil May Cry.
He slammed the car door open and quickly got up. Trish did the same. Arson sat in the car uncertainly. He looked up at Dante in bewilderment through the glass. The two seemed to be arguing. Dante's eyes had turned cold and hard and Trish was looking somewhat annoyed. At last Dante opened the car door for Arson.
'Come on. You're coming with us too.' Arson quickly obeyed, unbuckling his seatbelt and then nervously standing beside him. Dante moved forwards, into the alley, Trish and Arson following behind. Trish looked down at Arson as she felt his hand touch against hers and then hold on tightly. His eyes had become almost as wide as saucers, and they were welling up rapidly. Arson trembled as he looked up at Trish.
'Come on, Arson.' Arson shook his head.
'No…I'm not going in there!' Trish frowned.
'Why? Why not?' Arson said nothing, but his eyes grew wider. He could only shake his head. Trish knelt down so then her face was level with his. 'Arson?'
'Y-you don't understand! It's her!'
'Your mother?' Arson nodded.
'She's there! I can sense it! I know she's there!' Trish picked him up as the tears finally spilt out of his eyes. Arson turned and burrowed his face into her shoulder. He tried desperately to struggle free as she walked into the alley. At last, he saw that it was no use and was still.
'Come on, Dante! Hurry up! He's absolutely terrified!' called Trish. Dante said nothing but beckoned her over. Trish stared down at the body impassively. There were no marks on the skin, only a single blemish where the demon had half healed. Arson looked down at it and began struggling again.
'Please…please…let's just get out of here! Please!' he begged. Trish looked at Dante as if proving a point. Dante ignored the look and carried on examining the body.
'There aren't any clues here. I can't believe this…no leads as to who's doing this.' Trish had started walking away, trying to comfort the boy as much as possible, but nothing seemed to have any effect. All Arson wanted was to be allowed to run from that place. Trish came to a halt as Dante spun her around roughly. He tilted back Arson's head, so then his eyes were staring into the boy's.
'Do you know anything about this?' Furious shaking of the head. Arson was struck dumb with terror. Dante sighed. 'Are you sure?' More nodding.
'She's here…it's her…I know it is…can't you sense it?' Trish and Dante looked around the alley. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Dante's senses couldn't pick anything up. Neither could Trish. Dante at last sighed and then frowned.
'She isn't here, Arson. Besides you killed her, remember?' Trish elbowed him roughly in his side. Arson stopped crying, a look on outrage replacing his fearful glances.
'I did not! I know that what she did to me was horrible…but I deserved it! I'd never fight back, because I know that I deserved everything. She isn't dead! I'm telling you she isn't dead! When she finds me…' Arson's voice petered out. All anger had drained from his face. Instead he looked small and frightened. 'She said all demons are bad. She's right.'
'Really. I'm half demon. Does that make me bad? Should I die?' Arson said nothing. 'Well?' Arson shook his head. 'So who does deserve to die?'
'Me! She always said that…'
'But you're half demon as well. If I don't deserve to, then you shouldn't either, should you?'
'Yes…but it's different…'
'How so?'
'I…I don't know…' A red light suddenly glimmered in Arson's eyes. 'Just leave me alone! I don't know anything! I don't know!' Trish felt Arson's hands clench into fists. She frowned as his sobs became harder.
'Good going, Dent.' Dante gave her a withering glance and then picked up something from the ground. He tapped Arson on the shoulder. He held out the photograph towards Arson, between two fingers, like how one might hold a cigarette.
'What's the story behind this? How do you know these people?' Arson didn't look in his direction but shook his head, shaking with fear.
'Not now. Don't ask him now. You're scaring him.'
'But I need to know. Kid?' Trish suddenly glared at him.
'If you really must know, Arson is your grandson! That boy in the picture is your son!' Dante stared at her as though he had just been slapped.
'What? How d'you know?'
'I'll explain later.' Arson had finally stopped crying. He stared numbly over Trish's shoulder. Dante blew out a big sigh.
'Who's up for ice-cream?' he tried to force cheerfulness into his voice. Arson hid his face in Trish's shoulder again. Trish glared at him. 'I was joking.'
'Ha ha…' Trish's voice dripped with sarcasm. She opened the back door of the car and gently placed Arson inside it. Arson said nothing but hunched down in his seat, making himself look even smaller and helpless. Trish's heart went out to him. 'He didn't mean any of it. He's just in a bad mood.' Arson nodded, but curled up even more. Trish fondly ruffled his hair and then straightened up, slamming the car door shut. Arson flinched at the loud sound but said nothing. Dante stood alone, deep in thought.
'Dante! Come on!' Dante awoke to reality and quickly got into the car. Trish said nothing to him on the way back. At length, Arson spoke.
'That boy…he's my Dad. It's the only photo I had of him. He gave it to me ages ago, when I wanted to see what my grandma looked like. He told me to keep it. I didn't have anymore pictures because after he left, all of them were burnt.' Arson paused. 'My Dad's name is Kryder. He told me that grandma named him after a famous warrior who fought alongside Sparda.' Arson's eyes shone with the memory. 'He used to tell me stories and once, after an extra long story, he gave me a part of his amulet. My sister got the other half. I asked him where he got it from and he told me that Grandma had given it to him before he had left home. I asked him about his Dad but then he didn't say anything. He just told me that he was a great man. But after that night…he left.' Arson stopped and then shook his head. He tried to smile, but he failed. Trish turned to look behind her and then smiled at Arson.
'You look tired. Get some rest.' Arson didn't even protest but did as was asked. Fifteen minutes later, he was asleep. Dante shook his head and then spoke.
'If I hadn't lost my memory back then I wouldn't have done what I did.' Trish looked towards him. 'Damn it…' Dante shook his head.
'Car.' Dante quickly applied the brakes. Trish sighed. 'I know.'
'Once I had my memory back, I realised what had happened. She told me she loved me before I left. By this time, I knew I didn't feel the same way about her. So I left my amulet, the completed version. I guess you could say that it was my way of saying thank you. But I left it there as a token of apology…not that she knew that. I told her that I might not come back alive, I never had any intention of going back, but I left her my amulet anyway. She was so happy with a simple gift. It all makes sense what Arson said. That's how my amulet got carried on. Through Kryder. I wondered about how Arson had come across it. But I know now.' Trish nodded and then smiled at him. 'I've got to do some research. I need to know whether there was ever any reporting before of these type of attacks. It might be in my books somewhere.'
'Have you ever heard of this Kryder guy?'
'Yeah…my ol' man used to tell me that they were best friends. But then they parted ways and never met again. So that was that. Not very helpful.'
'Maybe Kryder knows something about these attacks.'
'Maybe…if he's alive. And even if he is, we have no way of knowing where he is. We've got to do this ourselves.' Trish nodded, seeing the sense in what he said. She looked out of the window, knowing somehow that no more was to be said on the subject.