Chapter 17

Kyrie was in the midst of the strange peace that only a good cry could bring.

After Vergil had left, it took all she could to gather her composure and stop the sobs from shaking her to pieces. It wasn't until a good half-hour later that her eyes were dry and her nose was no longer dripping; then a glimpse of the coffee cup bribe sent her into a fresh wave of tears. It was inexplicable, confusing, and a little frightening – but thinking about Vergil made her heart break anew.

When she managed to get herself to a semblance of calm and shoved all thoughts of what had just happened to the back of her mind, Kyrie returned to the main court to look for Nero. She was certain that if she could just see him again she could get her mind back to some semblance of peace– that things would return to their quiet, comfortable and everyday calm. But Nero could not be found and no one had seen hide or hair of him. Kyrie tried not to mind the sympathetic looks as people began to trickle away, the hustle and bustle of the school grounds becoming imbued with the soft silence that heralded the coming of night.

Still Nero didn't come.

It was only when she had run her list of excuses dry and the night guard of the Kindergarten was looking more annoyed than sympathetic that she finally left for home.

As soon as she arrived, Kyrie kicked off sensible heels and twisted her auburn hair up into a messy bun as she made a bee-line for the kitchen.

In an hour, the entire house was an explosion of baking smells and baked goods ranging from apple pie soaked rum and bitter-sweet caramel, to golden-crusted Madelines butter fragrant and lemon tinged. Dark chocolate and blueberry muffins dotted the countertop, cooling next to the coffee panna cotta with the sugar-spun crust while banana bread studded walnuts and spicy cinnamon conquered the stool. Batter-scraped bowls and flour covered rolling pins filled the sink, while measuring cups, empty bags of flour and pale white egg shells commandeered all other space in the kitchen.

So engrossed was she in filling the crème puffs that she hadn't noticed the front door open and the thump of boots approaching.

Credo took one look at the kitchen and cautiously asked: "Are you alright…?"

Kyrie jerked up and opened her mouth to try to explain that she was terrified.

Of the sudden explosion of demonic activity in her life, of the necessity of learning how to wield a gun, of the evasive half-truths she'd been telling just to keep her job. At the realization that she could not remember how Nero liked his coffee, that he still did not know that she disliked fruitcake muffins, that she could not stop thinking about Vergil and his eyes of equal parts fear and desire.

Whatever else this was, it was not normal. Kyrie had had crushes before, little flutterings of warmth in her chest and the twisting of an anxious stomach. There were sweaty palms and the trembling of knees - but nothing came close to what Vergil had made her feel at that moment his hand met hers. Pure and utter completion. She longed to be with him, needed him – and in some primitive and absolute way – belonged with him.

Panic threatened to choke her and Kyrie shut her mouth quickly.

Then she met his gaze and the weary eyes and the strain that prematurely lined her older brother's forehead and lips made her pause. Her brother had enough to deal with. Besides, this had the potential to be a very awkward, very dangerous conversation. So, instead, she smiled: "I am, thank you. Welcome home, Credo."

In answer, Credo laid his hand gently atop her head and stroked the dark hair for one quiet moment before pulling away. Kyrie found she had to struggle against the sudden prickle of tears and willed them back. She had done quite enough crying that day.

"When you're done here, go up and pack Nero's duffel." Credo turned to pick at a Madeline, giving his sister a moment's privacy. "He's been called on a mission and had no time to get anything."

"Nero's gone…?" Kyrie dabbed at her eyes with a flour-smeared apron and was dismayed at her reflection on the teakettle.

"Yes." Credo cleared a cupcake-laden stool and primly dusted the crumbs from his fingers. "He left this morning."

"This morning!" Her head jerked up, a frown tugging at her lips. So that was why he had not been at the fair! It was not the first time that he had been pulled into a case that necessitated him spending a few nights away from home, but he had never just upped and left without telling her before – and certainly not when he had made a promise to come. Kyrie wondered if it was fair for her to feel a little upset and more than a little hurt, but resigned herself to the thought that saving the world would have to take precedence over social niceties.

"It was an urgent matter that explicitly required his skills." Credo was unusually gentle in his response. "We're not certain when he'll be back – you need to be prepared for that."

Kyrie froze. "Is it… very dangerous?" She asked cautiously.

They were breaking rules here: Kyrie never asked about work and Credo spoke about it – but there was the feeling that today had been out of the ordinary for both of them and that rules were the least of their worries.

"Yes." Credo sighed heavily and she felt a chill grip her heart. "But when is it not?"

"Couldn't… couldn't I have wished him luck before he left?" She asked softly. "Maybe say goodbye…?"

"Are your wishes to help him or to help you?" Came the simple reply. "Sometimes, comfort is not necessary. Sometimes, kindness will do harm. Sometimes, good intentions hinder and hold back and do nothing but hurt."

Kyrie hung her head in shame and acknowledged that it was her self-satisfaction rather than anything that would actually help Nero. But… wouldn't he have wanted to see her too?

Uncertainty as to the answer of that filled her and made it difficult to breathe.

Kyrie mustered her brightest smile. "I'll go and pack the bag!" She managed before she stumble-ran up the stairs.

The whole Sunday was spent sending dust bunnies to their deaths.

Kyrie swept, scrubbed, polished and moved furniture to get to the crooks and crannies that had never, until that day, seen light. In the middle of scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge of dirt, Kyrie's stomach suddenly gave a loud rumble that made her jump – to realize that twilight had fallen and she had yet to eat since breakfast.

She was just starting on her third slice of pie when the dull roar of a motor began to make itself audible from down the street, slowly growing louder. She threw open the front door just as a bike come tearing down the street, its chrome and black body coming to a sharp stop inches from the curb.

Her heart fell when she realized the rider was a woman, wearing an outfit that she was hard-pressed not to blush. The woman brushed white-blonde hair back with a feline toss of her head, metallic gaze well below freezing.

"Kyrie, I would presume?" The woman's voice was a sensuous purr. "I'm Gloria, Nero's new boss and Credo's associate. I'm hoping you can grant me some of your ti… why. How curious."

A niggling memory rose to mind of the conversation at the precinct. This was Gloria? "Good eve, Lady Gloria. I thank you for taking care of my brother and Nero. Please let me know if I may be of service in turn – "

"You can do so right now." Gloria looked intrigued as she stepped up a little too close for Kyrie's comfort. "What are you?"

Kyrie's head shot up, her mouth suddenly dry. "Lately, I'm not sure I know myself." She spoke carefully. "Would you happen to have any idea?"

"Fascinating. If this was it, then it would explain…" Gloria looked delighted at something and gave her a smile that was considerably warmer. "Get on. There's a lot we have to talk about."

Kyrie was instantly wary. "Thank you for your invitation but I'm afraid I must decline. I'm waiting for – "

"Nero or Credo, right?" Was it her imagination or did Gloria's voice linger possessively on their names? "That's exactly the subject matter at hand. Don't you want to know where Nero went?"

She brought the engine back to life, and gestured lazily behind her. "Get on."

Curiosity won out and Kyrie climbed behind the cat-sensuous woman and gripped the dark leather of the seat with her knees. They were off in a roar of pungent smoke and burning rubber.

The streets and buildings flashed by and Kyrie wondered how many speed limit rules they had broken and how many turns they had taken. Gloria drove into side roads and then took the side roads of those side roads; first into fringes of the city then deeper in, where another face and heart of it thrived.

Gloria stopped in front of a neon-lit bar, red-bricked and covered with peeling posters and graffiti. She turned off the engine and strode in the establishment without another word leaving Kyrie to chase after her.

The place was dimly lit, smelling of alcohol, smoke and the faint sourness of vomit. Kyrie ignored the leers that were thrown her way as she took a seat, trying not to touch the sticky surface of the bar.

"A vodka tonic and…"

"Lemonade, please."

"…lemonade." Gloria smiled sweetly at the bartender who gave a phlegm-hoarse grunt and slammed their drinks unto the table.

The two women sipped their drinks in silence.

"Gloria." Kyrie straightened her back like someone preparing for a fight. "Would you tell me what you meant by asking me what I was? How am I different?" She couldn't help the nervous waver that crawled its way into her voice.

"I'll answer your questions if you'll answer mine." Gloria gave her an appraising look. "Do we have a deal?"

Kyrie only gave a short nod.

"I'm more attuned to the different world energies than most people are. It's part of the job description." White hair moved off her face with a confident toss of her head. "Your - shall we call it an aura? – feels particularly delicious."

"Delicious..?!" Kyrie tried not to be horrified.

"Yes. Imagine velvet cushions or a glass of red vintage, perfectly aired. You feel like that."

While Kyrie was busy mulling over the new information, Gloria leant her elbows against the counter with a soft sigh.

"I've wanted to meet you for the longest time." She traced the rim of her drink with a delicate finger. "I heard that you're very close to Nero."

"We've been friends since we were young." Kyrie began slowly, "He's one of the most important people in my life."

"Friend?" Gloria raised a dainty eyebrow. "I was of the impression that you two were lovers."

Kyrie blushed at the implication and quickly took a gulp of her drink only to grimace at the overly sweet taste. "Um, we're not quite at that stage yet…"

"'Not quite'? 'Yet'?" The older woman looked almost relieved. "That is interesting confidence."

Kyrie almost wished for another demon influx to happen right then and there. Her cheeks flamed. "I-it's not so much confidence as… um, we've been together for so long it seems unthinkable that he won't be in my life."

"So, you're settling." Gloria looked amused as she drained her drink and waved the bartender for another. "Let me guess: everyone around you has been saying it for so long it's become an expectation and so you're fulfilling it."

Kyrie's mouth felt dry. "I beg your pardon, but I don't think you know us well enough to make an assumption like that – "

"I don't need to make an assumption, hun, I know." Gloria swirled her drink with elegant calm. "The signs are there: you two are growing and growing apart. He doesn't know what's going on in your life and neither do you know what's happening in his. If you had, you wouldn't have invited him to such a trivial thing when Nero's been on the edge, what with the sudden promotion and having his condition worsen at the same time."

"Promotion?" Kyrie could only repeat dumbly. "Condition?"

"Oh dear, I did so hope I was wrong. So he hasn't told you?" Gloria's gaze was so openly pitying as she slipped a white-gloved arm comfortingly around Kyrie's limp own. "Do forget about it then, it's not in my place to speak if he hasn't said anything. But don't worry too much about it, dear – men are awfully tightlipped about personal matters. He probably didn't want to worry you."

"I don't… He's not…" Kyrie's head swam and she tried to pull away, but Gloria's grip on her arm was firm.

"Just forget I said anything." Gloria suddenly reached out, and Kyrie couldn't help but flinch as the cold leather touched her cheek. "And don't trouble your pretty little head about it. I'm sure you've had a lot to deal with on your side. As his boss, I'll take good care of Nero for your stead too."

"I…I…" Kyrie rose to her feet, disentangling herself from Gloria's grip so quickly it was almost rude. "I need to use the bathroom!"

"You'll have to step out of the bar and use the public restrooms down the corner." Gloria dropped her gaze unto her drink, eyes flashing laughter. "Go ahead and take your time~"

Kyrie fled out of the bar and gulped down the sour air outside. She found the toilets quickly enough and made a bee-line for the sink where she splashed water on her face and tried to get her thoughts together.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, the harsh white light making her dark eyes seem even larger against her ashen face.

A promotion?

She most certainly was not settling! So they hadn't seen each other in some time… one didn't have to know absolutely everything in order to be friends or whatever-they-were-supposed-to-be. It was okay to have their own separate lives too.

Condition?

Enough was enough, she decided firmly. She was going to talk to Nero and get all this nonsense straightened out.

How did he like his coffee?

…Did he even like coffee?

Kyrie shook the water out of her bangs and left the toilet.

On the way back to the bar, she skirted trashcans and rats, ignoring the noisy conversation from the nearby parking lot where some people were lounging on upturned crates, beer bottles littering the floor. Someone must have made a joke, because there was a sudden burst of raucous laughter and Kyrie turned to catch the eye of a man with dyed red hair that curled seductively into almond eyes of the most vivid green.

He wore a black muscle-shirt that showed off a serpent tattoo that curled around his left bicep and had a woman that was similarly twined around his right, giggling drunkenly. The man flashed her a wink and bent his head to whisper in the woman's ear. Her look of displeasure was quickly quelled when the man gripped her brunette hair to give her the most passionate kiss Kyrie had ever seen, to the catcalls of the group. The woman closed her eyes in pleasure and before Kyrie could avert her gaze, he had slid out of the woman's grasp and crossed the street towards Kyrie's side. The woman slumped on the crate, a dreamy smile on her face.

"Hey," The man's lips curled into a gypsy's grin, peering at her from beneath eyelashes so heavy it was a wonder he could see through them. "What's a nice girl like you doing alone in a place like this? You don't seem like the type."

"Is it really that obvious?" Kyrie's cheeks blazed with embarrassment. "I'm actually with someone. I'm very sorry to bother you – I didn't mean to look. I'll just – "

"Your boyfriend?" The man sounded comically dismayed. "Figures that a pretty little thing like you would be taken."

"No," Kyrie wondered how she could make her escape. From the corner of her eye, she saw another scantily clad woman approach the slumped brunette; perhaps her friend? "Um, so if you'll excuse me – "

"Well, my day just picked up!" He interrupted once again, fingers catching an unbound strand of hair that hung between them. "How about you forget about this friend of yours and hang out with me instead? I know a really good restaurant where - "

"Thank you, but I have to go." It was Kyrie's turn to cut in, as politely as she could. From the corner of her eye, she saw the friend's face contort in curiosity and then fear as she began to shake the unmoving brunette's shoulders. Kyrie's feeling of unease grew. "Have a good night."

"Why so cold?" The man was practically purring into her ear as he threw an arm around her. "C'mon – let's get to know each other better…"

"Please let me go. I'll scream otherwise." Kyrie tried to speak as calmly as she could.

When he made no move to do so, Kyrie raised her voice. "Gloria!" She called out loudly and the men in the group burst out into guffaws.

"Sorry, babe," A man with gold-teeth smirked at her as he rose to his feet. "But that doesn't work here. Scream all you want - no one cares." He made to reach for her and Kyrie screamed.

To her horror, the men only grinned more widely as they approach. She felt the man's breath, hot and smelling like alcohol against her shoulder. Upset, Kyrie dug her nails into his arm and he loosened his grip with a yelp.

"After her! That bi - " She heard the injured man howl as his companions gave chase, no longer amused.

With her heart in her throat and knees trembling so hard she was afraid she'd trip - Kyrie ran.

Still, Nero didn't come.

The music boomed loud and insistent; a steady trance beat that Dante matched with his fingertips against the vinyl couch.

Vergil had talked to him. Had explained his problems. Had asked his advice and help and was asking for his view on things. They were communicating. Cooperating. Compromising.

The world was going to end.

Dante rolled stiff shoulders and studied his older brother who took vantage on the second floor and was leaning against the club wall, arms crossed. He looked as stern and unapproachable as ever – not that it stopped the girls who were eyeing him a little ways off. The problem of sexy genetics; Dante knew first hand what a curse it could be. His thoughts drifted again to their conversation just a few hours ago.

Vergil had explained that he wanted to understand what was happening to him, what this 'bond' with Kyrie was – how it affected them now, how it would affect them in the future, how to use it, how to exploit it, how to destroy it.

He brought out some books and scrolls; pages and pages of research frequently cross-referenced and meticulously noted. Dante stared sightlessly at the information before him, stomach churning. Vergil had somehow gotten himself into another complication – one that might give him his strength back. That was all the information he cared to know at the moment.

But then Vergil had met his gaze unflinching.

"Yes, Dante, if with her help I can become stronger – to be as I was before everything – then I will accept this… situation with open arms. I…" He almost spat out the next words. "I hate being helplessness."

This, Dante knew was the truth. Quietly, hesitantly, secretly, he admitted to himself that he hated Vergil being helpless too.

Dante rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh.

Even as he was elated at the fact that it seemed like his older brother was finally wiling to trust him, a part of him was just plain terrified. Vergil had deemed it serious enough to ask for his assistance. Members of his family seemed to have an affinity for the complicated and this latest entanglement was especially troubling, what with Kyrie's tie to the Order of the Sword.

Years that seemed like lifetimes ago, Vergil himself had been a well-meaning member of said organization, as high up and honoured as a son of Sparda could only be. Vergil had been so very pure and idealistic and full of noble dreams of saving the world from evil – just as their father, his role model, had once done.

But the Order had betrayed him; had made use of his ideals and his strength and his blood.

Dante knew that he could not blame them completely for how Vergil had turned out, after all you became only as far as you allowed yourself to become, but he did allow that it had been a key factor in the formation of his older twin's cynical and untrusting nature.

"You're right, we need to know what we're dealing with." Dante spoke at last. "I'll get into contact with some friends and see if we can get somewhere safe for you to figure out what's going on."

"You're proposing…" Vergil began slowly.

"That she can not stay where she is now; yes. I don't see her family being accepting of their daughter suddenly getting weird abilities and getting all chummy with a half-demon with no social skills. Other people might get hurt too if something goes wrong while you're 'experimenting' or whatever." Dante didn't add his misgivings about the Order of the Sword and Kyrie's tie to them; it it was easier if Vergil didn't know. Knowing his bull-headed, prideful, pain-of-a-brother would probably just go charging up to Order headquarters and challenge them to a duel or something. "Any objections?"

Vergil's mind spun quickly, thinking possibilities, looking at alternatives, revising plans. Finally he shook his head. "None."

"I'll make the calls now." Dante rose to his feet and then paused. "But I have one condition."

Vergil had been expecting something like this. He wasn't so optimistic as to think that Dante would just simply help him for free. In fact he preferred this system of quid pro quo – he mistrusted anything that came too easily and smoothly into his grasp. The world had taught him long ago that nothing worked that way.

"You're going to explain this to her." Dante spoke solemnly. "To give her the chance to make a willing decision to come."

The request threw him off. "What?"

"It's just that no one ever asked us, you know?" Dante's voice suddenly turned blithe. "It was always 'Oi, Sparda 's kid – do this!' or 'hey– go save the world now'. Just once it would have been nice if someone said 'so do you want to stop the apocalypse from happening?' or 'oh great-and-wonderful-Dante, can you please go get those demons?'. Granted I'd still do it, but you know, it would have been nice if someone asked."

Vergil ignored his brother's babbling. "And if she will not come willingly?"

The red-clad demon hunter gave an anticipatory grin. "Then we go add another crime to our already long list."

Then the moment had passed and they were back to the uncomfortable silences and sharp retorts and quips. They agreed to wrap up the cases that they had already accepted in order to devote as much time and energy on this new situation. Dante had arranged a meeting with Morrison and decided to kill two birds with one stone by stopping by to patrol Enzo's bar and the surrounding vicinity.

Vergil had come, saying he was going to get the succubus; but Dante wondered if his older brother wasn't merely tagging along to spy on his network and make sure that Dante didn't enjoy himself in the cabaret.

Dante winked at the woman who was eyeing him across the bar. He was determined not to let Vergil have his way on either accounts.

The woman had just sauntered over and placed a hand against his arm when Vergil suddenly leapt from the second floor railing and stormed out of the place.

Dante was on his feet, ignoring the miffed cry of the woman as he gave chase to his older brother. He took off at a sprint, following Vergil into a club just a little ways down the road, and arrived there in time to see his older twin gut a man into two.

Gloria kept vigil by Nero's prone form, counting the electronic bleeps of the machine that measured his pulse.

So that was it. That was the reason why Nero was so drawn to the girl. Kyrie had a powerful, particularly enticing aura and poor, misguided, demon-possessed Nero had mistaken the pull of energy for an emotional bond of attraction.

It all made so much sense…!

But it hadn't been his fault – the girl's pull was strong; even Gloria had felt a measure of fascination and may have been swayed if not for her experience and control. Demons of a weaker caliber wouldn't have been able to resist.

Which was exactly what Gloria had hoped for when she brought Kyrie to the Underground, where lesser demons stalked the area all the time. If demons didn't get her, then the vagabonds and scum who thrived there would be certain to take care of a poor, lost, fragile young girl. By the shouts earlier and Kyrie's absence when she had made her way to her motorbike, it had looked like her plan had come into effect a lot sooner than she had even hoped.

Problem solved - and she didn't even have to lift a finger.

AN:

...Not my favourite chapter, but the next one will be fun for sure!

Darling reviewers, thank you so very very much for helping me keep going. I do happy little dances every time I see a message in my inbox; you guys help me burn calories and I adore you for that.