Warnings: Language

Sentient

Chapter 04:

"Smile For Your Brother"

"So let me get this straight," I said.

He grinned, sunny and cartoonish. "Sure thing, doll."

"You're Vergil's brother."

"Yup."

"His twin brother."

"Yup." He tilted his face this way and that, showing me the line of his jaw. "Can't you see the family resemblance?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hard to tell when you're upside down."

He floated in the middle of my living room, feet toward the ceiling, suspended like a kite in midair. White hair pointed straight toward the floor. He'd learned pretty quickly that while he couldn't move through space unless he could gain momentum by pushing off of something stationary (and I made sure he couldn't reach anything while I held him under my power), he could still do some impressive backflips and aerials in the space above my coffee table. I sat in one of the armchairs as he performed his own personal anti-gravity ballet.

"Fuck," he'd said when I first made him float. "Fuck. I'm not even mad at you for this. This is so cool!"

Kid in a candy store, this 'Dante' guy. Not at all like my dour Vergil.

As if hearing that unspoken comparison, Dante twisted himself upright and folded his arms over his chest. He crossed his legs at the thigh and bent them like he was sitting in an invisible chair. He then glared at me, lips thinning, eyes narrowing as he tossed his hair back and off his forehead.

"How about now?" he asked in an artificially clipped voice. "Is our familial connection not obvious, peasant?"

His impression of Vergil was uncanny, and not just because of their identical faces. That voice, that word choice, that posture, the mimicry of Vergil's hair—I couldn't help but let out a sharp bark laughter, humor setting bubbles in my blood.

"Dude, that's a dead on impression," I chortled. "You just need a bigger stick up your ass, but besides that—"

"Oh, crap, how could I forget the stick?" Dante asked, voice colored by fake panic. "Vergil never goes anywhere without his stick!"

"It's like a pretentious security blanket or something."

"I mean, it's his most notable feature!"

"Fucking truth!"

We laughed together for a minute. The laughter died when I heard a tut-tutting sound from my left. Andre and Marta, sitting together on the couch, shot me matching looks of disapproval. Andre clutched an ice pack to his face. When Marta peeled it back to check his wound, I saw only a black bruise where there had once been a deep hole.

"You feeling OK?" I asked. I used Sign instead of verbal speech.

Andre nodded. "Takes more than that to kill me," he signed.

Marta scowled. "What are we going to do with him?"

She gestured at Dante, of course. The man in red looked confused as he watched us communicate with our hands, eyes darting back and forth every time someone formed a word.

"Not sure," I told them. "Will call Vergil soon. First, questions."

Marta and Andre looked worried, at that. Marta started to sign something, but before she could shape the words, Dante began yapping.

"Hey!" he said. "You know what they say about secrets totally sucking, right?"

"Shut up," I grumbled. "I still haven't forgiven you for shooting Andre."

"Oh, for the love of—I said I was sorry. I didn't know he worked for my brother!"

"This is why we ask first, shoot later," I said. "You're nothing like Vergil at all, are you?"

"Nope. And thank the fucking lord for that."

I got up, then, so I could pace around the edges of the room. We'd already cleaned up the broken glass (easy to do when you just make it levitate out of the carpet) but the empty window frames let in a chilly breeze. We'd have to patch that up for the night, maybe with cardboard or something, before calling a repairman—

"Hey. What's your name?"

I looked up. Dante wore a neutral expression—too neutral, if you asked me. What was he planning?

"I'll be asking the questions," I said.

"Sure," came Dante's easy reply. He shrugged. "It'd just be nice to know who I was talking to, is all."

Fair point. I went to an armchair and plopped down. Eventually, and probably against my better judgement if we're being annoyingly honest, I told him: "I'm Jira."

His nose scrunched. "Weird name."

"You literally have no room to talk right now," I said. "Literally none. None whatsoever." When Dante looked confused, I said: "You and Vergil have themed twin names based on poets from ancient literature."

His nose scrunched even further. "We didn't pick them!" he said, anguished.

"And I didn't pick mine, either." I shook my head, reminding myself to keep focused, and gestured at the mountains looming beyond the broken windows. "Why are you here, Dante? And how did you find us?"

Something in his expression changed—or rather, something in it sharpened. It was like watching a knife being honed, only sped up, and in his eyes…and suddenly Dante looked a lot more like Vergil than before.

"Us," Dante said. Took me a minute to realize he was quoting me. "Us. So you and my brother are…together?"

My hands clenched around the arms of my chair. I said nothing. Andre and Marta watched in tense silence.

"OK, don't tell me," Dante said. He leaned back in his pose, linking hands lazily behind his head. "I'll figure it out eventually."

"Just answer my question, Dante," I said.

That got him grinning for some reason. "I'm a devil hunter, babe."

I frowned. "A devil…hunter?"

Dante looked surprised, then a bit peeved. "How much has Vergil told you about demons?" He waved at Marta. "I mean, you have a demonic housekeeper, but…"

"I know there's another world where demons live," I said. "Sometimes they come to the human world. Vergil's always been a little hazy about how."

Dante nodded. He seemed to be debating something internally, though I couldn't imagine what. Eventually the tension behind his eyes slackened.

"Demons cross over through random rifts between the worlds," he said. "Now, I've come across intentional rifts on occasion, but opening a portal is hard to manage. Costs a lot of money if you go the technical route, and a lot of magic if you go the mystical one. So demons usually come through randomly. Depends on the day and who's trying to take over the world this week, I guess. But however they come through, I'm the guy who takes them out." He jerked a thumb at himself, grinned, and winked. "Basically, I'm the monster the boogie man is afraid of. Demons come here, I take out the trash."

I leaned back, unimpressed. "So you're a garbage man."

Dante scowled. "Watch it, short stack."

"Make me."

Dante flipped me off. I rolled my eyes.

"So you hunt demons," I said. That's when something horrible dawned on me. I looked at Marta and Andre in a panic; they looked back with equal apprehension. "You're not hunting—?!"

Took Dante a minute to understand my implication. "Who, them? Nah, rest easy. Didn't know your household staff was even here until I saw them." His lips curled, sly. "Far as I know, there's no bounty on them, anyway, and I don't kill for sport. Or unless they deserve it. Whichever comes first."

Andre, Marta, and I relaxed as one. Then something even more horrible occurred. I licked my lips as my heartrate sped up, pulse beating a rhythm in my chest.

Slowly, I said, "Is there a bounty on a different demon who lives here?"

Dante understood that implication at once. "Vergil?" he asked. "Probably yeah to the bounty, knowing him, but that's a big 'no' in terms of me hunting his ass." I suppose I didn't look convinced, because Dante added: "Jira, he might be a massive douchebag, but he's my brother."

He appeared sincere enough, despite my misgivings. "Why did you come here, then?"

"I've been looking for my brother for a long time." Dante shrugged. "Had a bit of a spat a few years back. And then another spat a few years after that." The man let out a low chuckle. "Honestly, I thought I'd killed the guy."

Well, that certainly got my attention. I sat up straight and stared at him, eyes wide. Dante looked away. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes averted, a kid trying to hide something from his mother.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, brothers should get along," Dante groused. "But it's been years since then. I assume he's not…you know. Holding a grudge and feeling homicidal?"

"Depends on the day, honestly."

"Fuck. He might try to murder me, after all." He smiled, almost wistful for whatever godforsaken reason. "It'll be just like old times."

"Now if I didn't know better, Dante, I'd say you actually missed Vergil's violent tendencies."

"What can I say? I missed the bastard. He's a bitch to find when he wants to stay hidden."

My eyes narrowed. "So how did you find us, anyway? Far as I know, Vergil has us pretty well hidden."

Dante tapped his earlobe. "Got my ear to the underground. Like the deep underground." He tipped a conspiratorial wink. "Might even say hell itself."

Took only a minute for me to work it all out in my head. My voice almost cracked when the pieces clicked and I whispered: "Vergil…he just started working again. As a mercenary."

Dante beamed. "Smart and cute. If you're with my brother, he's a lucky guy."

"Cut the flattery. How'd you find us?" Vergil would want to know all the details. I curled my legs under my butt and levied my best no-nonsense glare at Dante. "And don't leave anything out, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, doll," he said. "I heard a rumor that someone saw me in a city across the country, in a city where I most definitely wasn't—and, well, Vergil and I are twins. I put two and two together." He preened a little. "You're not the only one who's smart and cute."

I glared. Dante grinned.

"Anyway. Been tracking him a few months now, looking for reports of a white-haired mercenary who looks a lot like me. Cases of mistaken identity and whatnot. It wasn't hard once I knew what to look for." I suppose worry showed on my face, because Dante's chipper voice turned serious. "Hey, but don't worry, OK? I'm the only one who knows what to look for, and I'm the only one with reason to look. Like I said, he was a bitch to find, even with that on my side. And I didn't hear anything about you, specifically, until I saw you."

Despite his reassuring words and all his promises, unease tangled my stomach. I pushed out of my hair and paced around the coffee table. Dante performed an impressive series of midair twists so he could face me. Really, I would've marveled at his acrobatics if I hadn't been so, you know, worried out of my goddamn mind and whatever.

"Vergil's gonna be pissed," I said, threading my hands through my hair as I paced. "Oh man. He's really going to be pissed."

Dante asked, "Isn't he always pissed?"

"Not all the time. Over the years he's gotten—"

I paused, then, thinking about how much he'd changed. I couldn't help but smile at the memories. At first he'd been a manipulative bully. Then, through years of trial and error, he'd become someone I respected. He'd become someone who respected me in return…

…or had he?

You don't lie to people you respect. Right?

As I stood there, thinking that, looking at Dante's concerned features, at the features that looked so much like Vergil's… something in me shifted. In a big way. My smile faded. Tectonic plates of realization gnashed and smashed against my memories until they turned to pulp.

Vergil had lied to me.

And here I'd thought we were past that.

"Actually, you know what?" I said. "No. Nope. Vergil doesn't get to be pissed."

Dante looked wary. "He doesn't?"

"No. But I do." I jerked a thumb at my chest. "I'm the one who gets to be mad, not Vergil."

"And why's that?"

"Because he lied to me. I've been with this guy for three years, and he never once told me he had a brother. Never once!" My toes curled in the plush carpet. "We talked about Sparda a hundred times, but a brother? He said he didn't have family at all anymore!"

"Wow." Dante looked offended. "Cold, bro."

"He should've told me," I said. My chest tightened with every word, tension and anger running hot in my blood. "He should've. And you know what? I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind."

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Dante saw it and grinned, clapping hands in supportive applause.

"Get 'im, girl," he said. "You tell 'im who's boss."

"I will!" I said. My hands shook, but I ignored it. "Just you fucking watch."

Vergil was first in my speed dial. I called him, heart beating a rapid tattoo in my chest—

The line engaged.

I took a breath, started to talk, rage fueling every breath—

The line went dead.

For a minute, I couldn't move. My anger faded, water down an abrupt drain. Eventually I lowered the phone and stared at it.

"Hey."

I looked up. Dante's expression walked the border of confused and concerned.

"What happened to giving him a piece of your mind?" he asked.

I swallowed the lump in my throat before speaking. "He hung up on me," I said.

Dante's jaw dropped. "Dude. What a jerk!"

I started to agree. I stopped.

"Maybe…it's for the best," I said. My heart began to decelerate, adrenaline edging off. "I'm mad right now. Maybe if I wait, cool off a little…"

Dante shook his head before I finished speaking. "No. Bad idea. You need to tell him how you feel. No holding it in. Bottling it up ain't healthy."

I mean, I guess he was right, but now that adrenaline had lost its shiny edge, the idea of confronting Vergil didn't seem so appealing. I said, "I don't know what I'd say if he picked up."

"Well, how do you two normally handle fights and shit?" Dante asked.

"This isn't like other times." A new consideration occurred. I reluctantly admitted, "He has a right to privacy."

"Does he, though?" Dante asked. I must've looked confused, because he added: "You're married or something, right?" He grimaced. "Sorry. I just can't imagine Vergil would keep a woman around if there wasn't some binding contract in place."

He wasn't wrong, the little shithead, so I nodded. Dante looked pleased at his reasoning skills. Ugh. His ego was the same size as his brother's. They'd be a terror if I had to deal with them both at the same time.

"Thought so," Dante said. "The way I see it, if you're married, you can't keep secrets. Now, I ain't what you might call a romantic, but even I know that two people in love—"

Dante paused, then looked horrified, not to mention a little green.

"Oh, god," he choked out. "Get me a bucket. I just imagined Vergil saying he loves someone."

"Um," I said. Vergil would be downright livid if Dante wrecked both the windows and the carpet. "Are you for real?"

Dante swallowed. "Yes. I just threw up in my mouth a little."

I was about to dash for a trashcan when he grinned and I realized he was kidding. I grabbed a pillow off the couch and threw it at him. He caught it; he chucked it back. This repeated a few times until he managed to bop me in the face with the sack of feathers. At that, I sat down with a huff.

"Anyway," he said, smoothing out his white hair. "What I'm saying is, if you're together, for real, he shouldn't keep secrets." He held up his hands. "That's all I'll say on the matter. Take it or leave it."

I clutched the pillow to my chest. "He has this annoying tendency to keep things from me in a misguided effort to protect me," I muttered.

"Sounds like Verge." Dante's look of sympathy spoke volumes. "Thinks he knows what's best for everyone, that asshole."

"Yeah. You're right." I cursed, then stood. "Fine. Whatever. Cat's out of the bag. He should've told me about you, and I'm not gonna let this slide."

Heart picking up speed once more, I got out my phone.

"I have a right to be mad," I said.

I unlocked the screen.

"So…"

I pulled up my contacts.

"…this is me…"

I selected Vergil's number.

"…getting mad."

My finger hesitated over the call button. Then I heard Dante speak.

"Get it, girl," he said. His eyes blazed with blue fire—so much like my Vergil, but so different, too. "Tell him how you feel."

"Yeah," I said. His words strengthened my resolve. My free hand clenched into a tight fist. "I will!"

"Show him who's boss!" Dante said, buzzing with enthusiasm.

"I will!" I barked back.

"Tear him a new one!"

"Hell yeah!"

"Fuckin' castrate the douche!"

I held up a hand. "Dial it back."

Dante thought about it. Amended: "…verbally castrate the douche?"

I held up a thumb. "Better."

Dante beamed. Aggression and intention sufficiently bolstered, I grinned at him and pressed the dial button—but just as it rang, I ended the call and pulled the phone from my ear.

Something about this just didn't feel right.

But what?

"What's the matter?" Dante asked.

I started to voice my concerns, but then I looked at him. Like, really looked, you know? And the sight of him gave me the inspiration I needed.

"A voicemail just seems so…" I searched for a word. Found it. "It seems so anti-climactic, don't you think?"

I snapped my fingers and released the hold I had on Dante, power withdrawing with a snap. Without warning he fell to the floor, landing solidly on his butt. He was on his feet in a second, though, rounding on me with a feral snarl.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked—and then I strode toward him, grabbed his wrist, and slipped his arm around my shoulders. With my other hand I held up the phone.

I'd activated the camera. The front-facing one.

Took a minute for Dante to catch on, but soon his expression on the screen morphed from surprised to impressed. He tossed his hair and angled his chin for a flattering jawline.

"Oh," he said, primping like a finicky Instagram star. "Oh. I get it."

I grinned. I gripped his wrist a little tighter and pulled myself more firmly against his side. I vaguely noticed that he didn't smell at all like Vergil—all motor oil, leather, and gunpowder. No books or cologne or katana metal. Wasn't sure if I liked that or not, but that didn't matter right then, so I shoved the observation aside.

"Seeing is believing," I said. "And with that in mind…do you wanna take a selfie?"

Dante threw back his head and laughed. He sounded nothing and everything like Vergil all at once. His side was warm, leather intensifying his body heat to levels of discomfort.

"Jira, you're an evil genius," he said.

"Oh, you have no idea," I told him.

I held the camera higher.

"Now smile for your brother, would ya?"

NOTES:

A song to the tune of "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?" from Frozen. Here, lyrics:

Jira: Do you want to take a selfie?

We'll drive Vergil up the wall…

That man's an ass sometimes.

Revenge will taste sublime.

He's ignoring all my caaaaalls…

I think he's been lying to me.

It really sucks.

I just wish he would tell me whyyyyyy…

Do you want to take a selfie?

It doesn't have to be a selfie…

Dante: OK, fine!

*sound of camera clicking; end of song*

AHEM. Thanks. I'm enjoying them bonding like this.

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