Disclaimer: Castlevania © Konami. "Sympathy for the Devil" and all original characters and places © Christine J. Burke.

Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter 2: Remorse Without Self-Loathing

Trevor Belmont could not believe what he has witnessed. It all seemed so surreal. Isaac, the most evil of Devil Forge Masters, the most arrogant and cunning, was alive after his defeat at Hector's hands two years ago. Yet, Trevor knew Hector and Julia had not fooled him. Both had mourned Isaac's loss in their own way. Julia had wept bitter tears over Isaac's madness and subsequent death. Trevor had feared the Curse would have claimed two from that family.

Trevor sat up from the bed that had been afforded to him. He had to admit that, in spite of the tense, hostile atmosphere, Isaac has been a gracious host. Not only has Isaac housed them for the night but also he's fed them from his own admittedly meager stores, given them clean, comfortable beds to sleep in and allowed them all the luxury of a hot bath. Now that was a treat after the long road and the constant camping out-of-doors.

Scarred blue eyes turned to look at the door. In spite of Isaac's hospitality, Trevor could never find rest under this roof. The wound just under his heart, the one that nearly put an end to him, still throbbed every now and then. It took him a long time to regain his strength and his profession as a vampire hunter.

With a soft "humph" and a grimace, Trevor stands and starts to pace the room. He's been a vampire hunter since his father first taught him to wield his whip. His family has been hunting Dracula for so long they can't even remember how the feud had started. He'd like to think that some ancestor of his found serving God and slaying evil was rewarding but he knows it's more likely that Dracula did something to some ancestor or another to warrant a need for revenge, something that couldn't be achieved in the course of a single generation.

Suddenly feeling trapped in the small guest room, another surprise from the odd house being that there were four guest rooms. Perhaps the house was once a grand hotel in its past but that idea just doesn't seem quite right. It dawns on him as soon as he thinks of it. There's no reception area, no place for a guest to sign in.

Trevor shakes his thoughts clear as he opens the door to pace the hall silently. Over the years he's grown to trust his instincts and his instincts scream at him not to trust Isaac. The sooner they leave this house the safer he'll feel. He would rather deal with the werewolves Isaac mentioned than trust the red-haired fiend with his unguarded back.

No, he won't be getting any sleep tonight but, as he silently wanders the odd halls, he discovers that he's not the only one. Sitting in a large comfortable chair, curled up like an edgy cat, is the object of his recent consternation. Isaac doesn't look much better than he does, as much disturbed by the current situation as any of them.

Trevor studies Isaac for a moment, noting the tension that runs along each fine and tightly honed muscle. Isaac is stubbornly attempting to read from a thick book but clearly having little success. He also looks incredibly tired and his hand shakes lightly as he occasionally reaches for a glass filled with something that appears to be decidedly stronger than that awful wine with dinner. Isaac grimaces at the taste but swallows without any other protest.

With a soft, frustrated sound, Isaac carelessly tosses the leather-bound volume to a table alongside the chair. He leans back and stares out the window into the black night. He's not expecting to see much and so he's not disappointed when he's faced with a pane of apparently black glass. Trevor is given the impression that Isaac is far from oblivious to his surroundings.

Finally, as if from the void, Isaac's voice penetrates the silence. The soft light of the oil lamp next to him flickers as he shifts his position in the seat. "You might as well sit down. It would probably calm both our nerves."

Trevor frowns in the doorway where he was inspecting Isaac from a discreet distance. "Having trouble sleeping at night, fiend?" He doesn't know what has him so defensive but he's irritated at being caught at spying.

Isaac smirks lightly. His eyes are a dark indigo in the lamplight. "I'm not the only one ill-at-ease with our current situation or are you often in the habit of ghosting through hallways on dark nights? Perhaps my knife did its work and I am faced with the unbelieving spirit of Trevor Belmont and not the flesh and blood man I have been lead to believe is before me."

Trevor's eyes narrow to tiny glints, crinkling his scar wickedly. "You fear reprisal. You have a right to be afraid, Isaac. I've half a mind to end this right here and now."

"End what? What has begun that needs to be finished?" Isaac's eyes weigh down on Trevor with a heavy gaze that leaves no room to doubt that the fiery-haired young man has been affected by his ordeals.

Trevor is put back on his heels at the deceptively simple question. He pauses to consider his answer but Isaac isn't content to wait.

"The Isaac you knew is dead, Trevor Belmont. He was slain by Hector in Dracula's Castle. His body was left in the crumbling ruins. I suppose it is for the best." He looks like he would say more but he shrugs helplessly instead.

Trevor raises an eyebrow at Isaac's apparent apathy to his defeat. "Once you swore vengeance against Hector for defeating you and aiding in Dracula's defeat. Now that he's done it himself, with his own hands, you're saying that you feel nothing?"

Isaac turns his head to look out the black window again, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of something to distract him. "It's not that I feel nothing. I have a lot of regret for the sins I committed while under the influence of Dracula's Curse. I feel even more remorse for the sins I committed under my own power. I have no excuse for those."

Trevor frowns and finally sits in another chair a comfortable distance from Isaac. "Why did you attempt to raise Dracula?"

Isaac frowns, looking thoughtful. "It didn't start off that way. To be honest I had no idea that Lord Dracula would be revived. All I could think about was my revenge. Hector humiliated me. He betrayed my trust and fled like a coward after besting me in battle. When I came to, Lord Dracula was already gone. I was powerless to stop any of it in the end. That once bothered me to no end. Now I only feel cold and numb."

Trevor absently rubs at the throbbing in his chest as he watches Isaac. This conversation has certainly unnerved him. All he can do now is doggedly pursue his line of questioning. "You seemed to take great pleasure in stabbing me in the back. Aren't you concerned that I will seek revenge?"

Isaac shrugs. "I took less pleasure in that than you realize. I'm not in the habit of stabbing people in the back. I couldn't have you interfering any further but, if I was in my right mind, I could think of better, less dishonorable, ways to remove you as a threat." He looks directly at Trevor. "As for revenge against me… That's up to you. I won't worry about it…for now."

Trevor narrows his eyes. "You're using the Curse as an excuse."

Isaac looks at Trevor sharply. "Never. There is no excuse for the things I have done. I will not beg forgiveness from you or anyone else. I will only give you reasons for my actions. I don't want your pity so I'll offer you no excuses. I made my own choices. They may have been poor and I may regret them but they were mine. My own failings caused me to submit to Dracula's Curse. Mine and no one else's. I committed my sins and I can't change that fact."

Isaac pauses to collect himself before saying, "You never gave in to the Curse." He looks at Trevor with discerning eyes. "Or did you?"

Trevor growls, "Don't equate me with the likes of you."

Isaac's expression becomes largely unreadable but the haughty arrogance that Trevor remembers shines from beneath layers of debilitating humiliation and pain. "Are you better than all other men? Are you perfect? Have you never had a dark thought in your life? Dracula's Curse is a subtle thing. It takes normal human emotions and twists and corrupts them until even you can't recognize your own thoughts from the destructive impulses of the Curse."

Trevor frowns. "I am a man. I feel the darkness of sin but I never gave in to the Curse. I am not that weak."

Isaac's face closes off once again, becoming unreadable. "Did I seem weak to you, Trevor Belmont? Was it weakness you saw when you faced me in the Ruins of Aiolon? No, Trevor Belmont, I did not give in to weakness. I fell victim to treachery. I made a mistake that left me vulnerable to manipulation. To add insult to that injury, I was not even the one they wanted. Hector was their target all along."

Isaac reaches over and picks up his half-finished glass of alcohol. He examines the dark amber fluid for a moment before downing the rest of it with a grimace. "I was used, Trevor Belmont. I was used by the one person I trusted other than Julia and Hector. Or perhaps not. I would like to believe that Lord Dracula would not have condoned Death's actions but, realistically, I understand I was always expendable to both of them."

As Trevor watches Isaac examining his now empty glass he can see the confusion written over the other man's face. Watching him more closely, Trevor can see that Isaac has already been drinking for some time tonight. The fiery young man is on a path of self-destruction. Or, at least, that's how it's beginning to look to Trevor.

Isaac finally puts down the glass and looks directly at the vampire hunter. "All that aside, why are all of you here? Targo is a little out of the way for you, isn't it? And Hector's sword wouldn't have become so damaged unless he was striking at stone monsters with it, gargoyles and golems and the like. Just what are you up to?"

Trevor frowns as he watches Isaac's steady gaze. "The less you know, the better."

Isaac frowns. "If you're running from trouble, we have a right to know here. If you're running toward it, how close is it to us? Is there any reason why the people of this town should be concerned?"

Trevor smirks. "Concerned for the well-being of others? I don't believe it."

Isaac chuckles softly. "I was concerned for the well-being of Lord Dracula when I served him. I was concerned over the safety of my sister. I was betrayed by Hector. Someone you don't at least believe cared about you cannot betray you. I thought Hector was my friend. I regarded him as a brother and yet he fought me only to run like a coward from our master's wrath. Hector is the only other Devil Forge Master in all the known world. That meant something to me even if Hector did not feel the same."

Isaac turns away from the ill-concealed look of scorn in Trevor's eyes. Before Trevor can say anything Isaac says, "I've been told all my life that I will go straight to Hell. Since that is the case, why should I care about obeying God's laws now? I was damned the moment I was conceived."

Trevor says quietly, "All men can seek redemption, Isaac."

Isaac shakes his head and looks straight into Trevor's eyes. He has no fear of the man before him. "Perhaps that's true. Perhaps it's not. According to the Church my very position as a Devil Forge Master sentences me to eternal damnation. If I use my abilities or I abandon them, much as Hector once did, I will be granted no pardon. My existence is cursed. So why should I care about struggling to obey laws that aren't my own?"

Trevor looks over Isaac and is alarmed by what he's seeing. All of Isaac's words have left him with a sick feeling deep inside. Julia has professed to be a witch yet she seems remorseless over that fact. The Church has hunted witches in brutal acts of violence. In the course of their campaign against the Dark Arts many innocents have suffered as well. Hector's dear Rosalie, whom he speaks of so little, was falsely accused of being a witch and was promptly executed. She was only one of many. He once was able to glean from Alucard, Dracula's own son, that the witch-hunts took someone special from him as well.

Isaac remains quiet, letting Trevor come to his own conclusions for the time being. It's several long moments before Trevor feels he can speak.

Trevor's voice is low but builds with his confidence. "The world of men is ruled by men. Men are always committing sins but that doesn't mean they are deserving of the horrors that Dracula unleashed upon them. The creatures you unleashed upon the people of Europe did nothing but continue the madness, Isaac. Men kill each other all the time. We don't need monsters to show us the evils of the world."

Isaac shakes his head. "But, without those monsters we wouldn't understand the evil that exists within ourselves. We also wouldn't understand the good." He pauses before asking, "Did you ever tear off the wings of flies when you were a child, Belmont?"

Trevor frowns. "I might have… I probably did."

Isaac looks at him. "Did you ever bother thinking about how the fly felt about that? Probably not. No one bothers to think about how that fly is condemned to a slow, agonizing death. Children commit these acts. They poke at snakes with sharp sticks and then, when they are bitten, the world says, "Snakes are evil." Where did the evil start? Why is it so wrong for the snake to be there? It is what it is. Nothing will change that."

Trevor shakes his head but before he can say anything Isaac says, "People choose what they do. I was wrong in my services to Lord Dracula but the people who drove me to starve in the streets were wrong for how they treated me. It's done now. Nothing can change that. I, like the snake, am what I am. I can't change that. I can keep people from poking me with sticks though. I do that by staying here. I have nothing to give the world and there is nothing I want from it but to be left alone."

Trevor growls, "Would that I could believe you, Isaac. But you are known for your treachery."

Isaac doesn't bother to respond as he turns to stare out the black window in silence.