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Faaanfic!!!
Game: Devil May Cry
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and it’s characters and situations are the sole property of Capcom. I am making no money or profit off of this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended. On the other hand all original characters and situations are mine so please don’t run off with them without my knowledge or consent.
Summary: A year after the events in “The Devils Cry”, things in the Sparda family have calmed down, well, as much as possible with them at any rate. But when strange things start happening, including a reappearance of Alastair's dreams of the unknown castle, they realized that they still have a long way to go.
SPOILER WARNING!!!: Spoilers for all three Devil May Cry games.
8.
Luxian tossed his unconscious grand nephew into the nearest chair and began pacing the floor in the darkened library. He should have, by all rights, taken the boy straight to Mundus, but he figured that the brat would make a good bargaining chip. Mundus wanted the boy, and Luxian was fairly certain that it wasn’t so he could be punished for his betrayal. More likely it was so he could be pumped for information about how much Dante knew about the book. Luxian knew that he was being stupid; Mundus was likely to take his behavior as a betrayal and have him executed for it, but he was desperate to save his father -
Don’t you mean desperate to save yourself, Luxian?
He jumped and spun around. He saw nothing in the shadows of the library, but he was certain that it was his brother’s voice that he had heard. But that was not possible; his brother was imprisoned in the lowest level of the Underworld. Luxian laughed to himself; he was being paranoid. His brother had been in a catatonic state for years. He was never going to come out of it.
“Don’t be so sure, brother.”
Luxian spun around, bringing his sword up to defend himself, but the weapon was easily knocked from his hand. The lights in the room suddenly flared to reveal Sparda Achida Sparda sitting calmly in one of the chairs, looking at his brother calmly, the dark red smoke of his power rising off of him in waves.
Luxian screamed, and turned to run out of the library.
“Stop!”
Luxian felt the magic in the tower wrap around him and halt his forward progress. He turned around to face his brother.
“What gives you this power over me!” he spat.
Sparda just held up his right hand. There on his ring finger sat the heavy gold ring with the Sparda family crest. Luxian felt the blood drain from his face when he realized what that meant; somehow, Sparda had reclaimed patriarchy of the Sparda family. That gave him absolute authority over anyone with the Sparda name and blood, as well as giving him total control over the wards around Lar’cincel.
“But h- h- how can this be possible?” Luxian sputtered “You’re supposed to be out of your mind, rotting in a cell in the Forgotten Levels!”
“Rumors of my catatonia have been greatly exaggerated.” Sparda said dryly.
“But, but the collar! The power suppressing collar!”
Sparda reached down and plucked a tarnished metal collar from his lap. “You mean this?” he said, twirling it around his fingers “It would seem that these collars don’t last very long if the person who is wearing them is very powerful. Such a shame that no one bothered to really check on me, as the collar started to lose its power last year, just before my son made good his escape.”
Luxian went pale again at the mention of Sparda’s half breed son. If Sparda knew that Vergil had escaped then he probably knew about the boy’s imprisonment and torture. And if he knew, then there was the very real possibility that he would retaliate against those that had hurt his son.
“Oh there will be a retaliation.” Sparda said, his voice sounding dangerous as he guessed his brother’s thoughts “But that is neither here or now. I have... something else on my mind right now.” He rose from his chair, so he could better look his brother in the eye.
“Now tell me about this scheme of yours to abandon Father somewhere?”
“W- w- what scheme? How dare you suggest that I would do such a thing!”
“You always were an awful liar, Luxian, and you would be surprised to learn what people will say if they think that you are out of your mind.” Sparda took a step forward. “It appalls me, Luxian, that our father cannot even trust his own flesh and blood to look after his best interests. For centuries you have cared only for yourself and what you could gain, and when the opportunity to sell Father out to save yourself came along, you took it.”
“You’re mad, Sparda, I would never do such a thing -”
“Don’t play me for a fool, Luxian!” Sparda slammed his fists down onto a table, shaking the entire room. “I know you, and you were always out for yourself, even when we were children! You were jealous of me and angry at Father for not giving you what was mine by right of birth! You coveted what you could not have, so you set out to get it, no matter what you had to sacrifice! And Mundus took advantage of it! Don’t shake your head, Luxian! You know it! He played you! He played upon your jealousy, and you went right along with it like the good little servant that you profess to be!”
“I was following our Master’s orders!” Luxian raged, angered at the accusations that his brother was flinging at them, even as he cringed from the obvious truth within them.
“Kindly do not mix up your beliefs with mine. Mundus has not been my master for over two millennia, ever since he murdered my son.”
“How dare you accuse Lord Mundus of such a crime! Humans murdered Akemus!”
“You still think that? After all of the lies that Mundus has told you?”
“Lord Mundus has never lied to me!”
“Like he never told you that you would be allowed to continue the family? Like he never told you that Father was placed in stasis to protect him from me? Like he never told you that Mother and Areceli died by my hand!” The end of that last sentence came out almost in a anguished howl. Luxian paid no attention to the obvious pain in his brother’s voice.
“That’s because they did die by your hand! When they tried to stop you, you killed them both! You did it for your own twisted fun!”
Sparda perked an eyebrow. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”
“What?!” Luxian started sputtering again.
“Honestly, Luxian, stop lying to yourself. How long have you been trying to convince yourself that Mundus is telling the truth? I know that you’re doubting what he’s said to you. Father told us both that Mundus acts like a spoiled child, and everyone knows that spoiled children are good at lying to get what they want. Why would Mundus be any different?”
Luxian tried to answer, but he couldn’t get any words to come out.
“That’s what I thought.” Sparda said wryly.
“Wait,” Luxian said after a moment “What am I doing here? I must go report to Lord Mundus!” He turned again to go leave the library.
“You will do no such thing.” Once again, the magic of the tower brought him to a halt.
Sparda leaved over the table that he was standing behind, bringing his face only inches from his brother’s. “You will go prepare a room for my grandson, so that he may rest. Then you will see to it that Father’s room is ready for him, because I fully intend on bringing him back here. Then you will go to your own room and stay there. You will not speak to Mundus. You will not speak to any of his messengers. Nor will you speak to or bother my grandson. Am I understood?”
Luxian clenched his jaw, trying to fight the magic that was compelling him to answer. Finally, he jaw was pried open, and he ground out a “Yes, Cincel.”
Sparda smirked at his brother’s use of the Sparda family word for the family patriarch. To him, that confirmed what he already knew, that he had fully reclaimed the title.
“Now go do as I bid you.” he told his brother, putting the necessary amount of power behind his words, making the magic of the tower, and of the ring, force Luxian to obey him. Still fighting the magic, if his jerky movements were anything to go by, Luxian left the library, snarling and growling the entire time.
Sparda resisted the urge to laugh.
*****
Vergil regained consciousness to find himself in a place he had hoped to never see again.
Lar’cincel, the Sparda family home.
Didn’t he just have the luck.
Sitting up, he groaned as his head throbbed from where he had obviously smacked it a good one while he had been unconscious. He rubbed his temples while he waited for the throbbing to subside, feeling the residual tingling in his chest where that damn Abyss had tried to rip his heart out.
His eyes widened, and he leapt up from the bed in which he had been laid. The fight! The house! His father... He felt his heart sink into his feet. His father would never have been able to defend himself against such a large group. He didn’t want to think about it, but he had a sinking feeling that his father was more than likely dead. His eyes burned and tears began streaking down his face. Sinking back down onto the bed, he hid his face in his hands and cried.
A warm hand came down gently down on his shoulder.
“Don’t cry, child. I’m sure he’s fine.”
Startled, Vergil’s head whipped up, and his jaw fell open in shock.
“I know you.” he said, looking up at the person standing beside him, who looked quite a bit like Alastair. “But I don’t think we’ve ever met.” The man shook his head and smiled.
“No,” he replied “I don’t think so, but I’m certain that either your father or your uncle has mentioned me.”
Vergil knew that this couldn‘t possibly be his grandfather, but his demonic senses were telling him that his eyes were right. “Grandpa Sparda?”
The dark knight smiled again. “I suppose that would be me, though I imagine that it’s going to take me alot longer to get used to being called ‘Grandpa’. It took me years to get used to being called ‘Dad’.” Vergil managed a smile.
“I guess I can help you with that.” he said. He gave a watery chuckle. “I thought you were dead.”
“So I’ve heard, but no, I’m still alive. It’s my understanding that they never found a body?”
“Dad told me that they never found you, and Grandma assumed that you were killed in battle.” Sparda sat down on the bed beside him.
“Oh, there was a battle, but it was a trap. I was captured and imprisoned. I only recently escaped.”
Vergil laughed, a high pitched titter that had the barest edges of hyrsteria in it. “I bet that has got Mundus’ panties in a twist.”
“It will, as soon as he learns that I’m not chained to the wall in my cell anymore.”
“So he doesn’t know?”
Sparda shook his head. “No.”
Vergil fell back on the bed and howled with laughter.
“Oh that is good! He doesn’t even know! This is rich!” He sat up and looked at his grandfather eagerly. “Can I be there when you surprise him?”
Sparda laughed at the expression of childlike eagerness on his grandson’s face. “Of course! We’ll both get a good laugh.” His expression turned suddenly serious. “But first we have something else that we must do.”
Vergil stopped laughing and looked at his grandfather seriously. “What is it?”
Sparda leaned in close. “Here is what we’re going to do...”
*****
Alastair growled as the castle reformed around her. She was getting really tired of this. Yeah, okay, this was only the second time she had had this dream in a year, but still... The blond haired woman that she had seen the previous year appeared on the fountain again, and once again, she stood up and walked into the castle. Alastair followed her as she walked into the castle and up to the second floor back to the door which had sounds of giggling coming from behind it. As the woman reached for the doorknob, Alastair turned to look down the hallway, waiting for the strange unidentified man to appear.
“Eva!” And there he was, right on time. Not waiting for him to come any closer, Alastair approached him to get a good look at his face.
It was like looking into a mirror.
She stumbled backward in shocked recognition at the man’s slicked back white hair and the powder blue eyes as the woman answered:
"Yes, Sparda?”
“Where are Dante and Vergil?” Alastair received her second shock of the evening, at hearing her father and uncle’s names.
“Behind this door, getting into all manner of mischief if what I’m hearing is anything to go by.”
Sparda smiled. “Shall we interrupt their mischief making then?”
Eva laughed. “You know that if we didn’t, we would have to rescue them later from whatever trouble they had managed to get into.”
Sparda laughed and walked towards his wife, who opened the door and proceeded into the room. Alastair followed him and peeked into the room, looking past the woman that she now knew was her grandmother. She saw two small boys, no older then six or seven years old, playing happily together inside. Sparda went to follow his wife through the door, but he stopped and turned to look at where Alastair was standing. His gaze landed on her, and she realized with a start that he could see her.
“Look in the book, Alastair.” he said quietly “You must look in the book.”
She nodded stupidly, and he smiled at her, turned, and walked into the room, shutting the door behind him.
*****
Alastair sat straight up, her eyes wide with shock and surprise. Her grandfather had NOT just spoken to her in a dream! Oh, no, that couldn’t be possible. She ignored her sense of logic that pointed out that her uncle had done the same for her brother the year before. That was different. Uncle Vergil was still alive; Grandpa Sparda had died years ago. There, he couldn’t be trying to contact her in a dream.
It. Was. Not. Possible.
Look in the book, Alastair.
Alastair yelped and practically jumped off the couch which she had bedded down on hours before. She had NOT just heard her grandfather’s voice in her head!
Look in the back of the book.
Okay, maybe she had. Scrambling off of Rachel’s couch, she crept into Rachel’s small, but heavily warded library, where she found the book lying on the shelf. Lighting a small oil lamp - Rachel refused to get electricity for some reason because it interfered with her magic - she flipped open the heavy leather cover and went straight towards the pages in the back. Several of them were blank, but there was one that had only a single sentence written on it:
“My father knows all that there is to tell.”
Alastair looked at that one sentence in confusion. What did that mean? Deciding that she needed someone else’s input, she left the library and went straight to Rachel’s room. She thought about waking her father, but she was still a little angry at him over what he had said to Uncle Vergil earlier. So instead, she roused Rachel, dragging the half asleep, half naked demon back to the library and showing her the sentence.
Rachel was awake in an instant. She looked at it thoughtfully for a moment before turning to Alastair and saying shortly: “I’ll be right back.” Before Alastair could say a word, Rachel opened a portal and stepped through. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying the life size portrait that hung in the weapons room.
“What did you bring that here for?” Alastair asked.
Rachel sat the painting down on the floor, leaning it against a bookshelf. She straightened up and brushed her hands off.
“Do you know who this is?” she asked.
“No,” Alastair shook her head.
“This is your great-grandfather, Talthos Sparda.”
“Great-grandfather?”
“Of course. Surely you didn’t think that all demons were constructs did you?”
Alastair smiled sheepishly; she hadn’t really thought about it to be honest.
“Is he still living?” she asked.
“As far as I know. He was in stasis the last I heard.”
“Stasis? What the hell is that?”
“Stasis is a magically induced sleep that is more like a living death. Those in stasis have no awareness, no heartbeat, no breath, but they are not dead. The spell that is cast on them is so powerful that there are few that could break it. Your grandfather is one of those that could.” Rachel looked at the painting. “Now, back to the subject at hand.” She turned the frame around, so she was looking at the brown paper that was glued to the back of the wooden frame. She reached out and easily slit it open with one of her fingernails. “Now let’s see what your grandfather hid in here, shall we?”
*****
Vergil was awake, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. He was vaguely aware that it was raining, like it had been the night his father had disappeared, like it had been the night his mother had been murdered. He was still numb with shock from the sting of his brother’s earlier words. His twin had hurt him badly, but he supposed that he deserved it. He had been too much of a coward to defend his son, and now the younger Vergil was more than likely imprisoned in the Underworld, suffering all manner of torture.
He turned over onto his side, curling up into a ball, and clutching his pillow as if it were a lifeline. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. He didn’t deserve that kind of release; because of him and his lack of action, his son was suffering.
No, not his son. Sure, he had fathered the younger Vergil, but Dante had raised him. Dante had given him a home and a family. Dante had taught him to fight and defend himself. Dante was paying his way through school. No, Vergil did not see how he could have any claim over his child. He was a failure at being a father. He curled into a tighter ball, the shadows from the raindrops on the window landing on his face.
He heard soft footsteps walking into the room and up to the bed.
“Uncle Vergil.” he heard Alastair whisper as she gently took him by the shoulder and shook him slightly “You need to get up. There is something that you have to see.”
Vergil buried his face in the pillow. He was useless to his family; what would require him around? He certainly couldn’t think of anything. He felt her take a firm hold of his hand.
“I said, GET UP.” With that she literally yanked him out of bed. He tumbled to the floor, too tangled in his blankets to get his feet out in time to catch himself. Alastair chuckled. He growled, a brief flicker of his old self coming through his irritation as he disentangled himself from the blankets and stood up. He tried to glare at his niece, but he knew that his gaze had lost most of the heat that he used to put into it. Alastair chuckled again, and took a hold of his hand again.
“C’mon.” she said “There is something you have to see.”
Grumbling and complaining about conspiring nieces who like to wake him up in the middle of the night, he let her lead him into the living room.
Dante was already there, and he didn’t look up as Vergil came into the room. His gaze was locked onto what looked like the back of a large painting. Vergil didn’t want to approach his brother, but Alastair let go of his hand and pushed him from behind, his bare feet sliding across the wood floor as he was shoved forward to stand next to his brother. He cringed, fully expecting his brother to turn and rip into him again, but Dante’s gaze did not move from the back of the painting. He followed his brother’s line of sight and was startled to see his father’s handwriting on the back of the canvas. It was a letter, he realized, addressed to him and Dante.
My dear children,
It is my sincerest hope that you never have need to find this letter, but I know that that is a foolish hope. I’ve always known, from the moment I tossed Mundus’ orders aside, that I would be forever hunted, and that I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. It is my greatest sorrow to know that I, by your inheritance of my blood, am condemning the two of you to the same fate. Know that I am so sorry and that I never wished the two of you to be hurt in any way.
No doubt now that the two of you have grown into fine men, and I hope that you are ready for the information that I am about to impart. Do the two of you still remember where we would spend the summers? You both loved it; my large estate in the Swiss Alps. We would go there every summer, remember? Your mother asked me once why I had a castle in such a remote region, as the nearest town was an hour’s hike away. I did confess to her the true reason, though she made me swear not to tell you until you were older. Now that you are older - or at least you had better be - I can tell you now what I couldn’t tell you then.
There is a gate to the Underworld underneath the castle. I discovered this gate during the latter half of the fifteenth century, and when I was made lord over the area after I had taken care of the gate and the demons that were coming out of it, I built my castle over it to better keep an eye on it. You see, I was not able to completely seal the gate. It is too large, and too close to the heart of the Underworld to close completely. If it were to completely open, it would be more than large enough for Mundus himself to come through unhindered. As of the writing of this letter, I can feel the seal cracking under the relentless chipping of Mundus’ minions. All too soon, I fear, the seal will crumble, and this world will feel the darkness of Mundus once again.
I am unable to close this gate myself. With the sealing away of the Temen-ni-gru all those centuries ago, I sealed away most of my power, including my ability to use the powerful magic of the Sarcesti family, which I inherited from my father. the back of whose portrait I am penning this letter on. Sarcesti magic will be necessary to close the portal, and here Atalia will be an immense help to you. She is a daughter of the Sarcesti family, and her magic is quite formidable. If either one of you, or both of you, have inherited the Sarcesti magic from me, then so much the better. Speak to Atalia, she will be able to tell you what to do. I need to add that you will need your amulets, and my Ensouled in its awakened form, to permanently close the gate. To whichever one of you has possession of the Sparda, do not fear losing it. It is only needed to set the seal; you’ll be able to reclaim it once the seal is completed.
Be strong, stand with each other, and you will not fall.
All my love,
Your father, Sparda Achida Sparda
Vergil stepped back from the letter, tears stinging his eyes. He glanced over and saw Dante slumped on the couch, his face buried in his hands, his shoulders shaking. He dumbly realized that his brother was crying. Without thinking about it, he walked over and sank down onto the couch next to his younger twin. He watched Dante for a brief moment before reaching out and awkwardly putting his arms around him. Dante tensed up for a moment then leaned into the embrace, just like he had years ago when the two of them had realized that their father wasn’t coming home. Hesitantly, he put his own arms around his older brother, and they sat that way for awhile, seeking and finding comfort in each other. They didn’t notice when Rachel quietly left the room, tugging Alastair behind her. They didn’t notice when the rain gradually tapered off and stopped. They fell asleep that way, still hanging onto each other.
*****
“You two are going to be so stiff when you finally get to moving.” a voice said with a chuckle, rousing Dante from the depths of sleep. Blinking his eyes sleepily, he saw Rachel’s living room come into focus around him, and he briefly wondered what he was doing sleeping in the living room. He had his own room with his own bed. Had he been sleep walking again? He shifted, gradually becoming aware of a warm body next to him. He raised his head to see that it had been resting on Vergil’s shoulder. Startled, he jumped away, causing Vergil, who had been leaning against him, to fall forward, waking him abruptly when his face his the couch. Vergil jerked up to a sitting position, his eyes wide and frightened, and he curled into a defensive ball, his gaze darting between the three other people in the room. Dante felt his heart lurch when he realized that, not only was his brother afraid of him, but he had legitimate reason to be afraid. He felt suddenly sick when he realized that he had hurt his brother yesterday, not so much physically but mentally, and had hurt him badly.
“Vergil?” he said softly, reaching out to his twin. Vergil cringed and scrambled away, falling to the floor and scooting across the floor to the wall, where he sat, watching Dante fearfully. Dante eased himself off of the couch and knelt on the floor. Moving slowly so not to frighten his brother more, he held out one of his hands, palm up and whispered:
“I know I hurt you yesterday. I know that I frightened you. I’m so sorry for what I said yesterday, Vergil; I never meant to hurt you. For years I’ve wanted so badly to have you back with me, and when you finally reappear, I greet you with distrust and anger.” Vergil watched him warily, making no move to come any closer or accept the offered hand. Dante kept speaking, hoping to penetrate the layer of fear that the twin that he knew and loved was buried under.
“I tried to save you back then. I really did. Why didn’t you let me catch you? Why did you want to stay, knowing full well that things were going to be bad for you? Why didn’t you say anything on Mallet Island? Did you even know me then, or had you forgotten? Why did you forget? Were things so bad for you that you had to forget to protect yourself? Please tell me, Vergil. I need to understand.”
Vergil hid his face in his arms, so he didn’t see as Dante scooted up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. The elder twin jerked in surprise and tried to get away, but Dante held him.
“You’ve done enough running, bro. It’s time to stop.” he said as he wrapped his arms around his brother’s shaking form and pulled him close. Vergil shuddered, but didn’t fight his brother’s embrace as he was held close to Dante’s body and gently rocked back and forth.
Vergil shuddered again, then he sniffed. Dante was encouraged by the sound; his brother needed to cry, to let everything out.
“Let it out, Vergil.” he said soothingly “Don’t hold it in anymore.”
Vergil let out a choked sob; he seemed to be struggling to keep himself under control. Dante said nothing; he just held his brother tighter. Another sob and Vergil dissolved into tears, sobbing into his brother’s shirt, his entire body shaking. Dante just held him and rocked him back and forth, murmuring words of comfort like their parents had once done.
They sat like that for over an hour before Vergil had calmed down. He raised his head from his brother’s shoulder and looked at him.
“You’re not angry anymore?” he asked timidly, as if he was afraid that Dante was going to blow up at him again.
Dante shook his head. “No, it wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have blamed you.” Vergil nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. He seemed to be thinking. After a few minutes he looked up at his brother.
“I want to go with you,” he said “when you go to get him back.”
Dante was startled. “Are you sure? You realize that that means going back into the Underworld?”
“I know, but I have to. I have to find him, and... I can’t keep running from Luxian forever. He took something from me; I have to get it back.” His face lost its timid look, which was replaced by a look of grim determination. Dante had waited for years to see that look again.
“Alright,” Dante said “You can come with me. Though, if I had said no, you would have just come along anyway, am I right?”
Vergil nodded, his long lost smirk forming on his lips.
Dante sighed. “That’s what I thought.”
“Ahem.” The two of them looked up to see Alastair and Rachel looking at them. Dante felt his face heat up when he realized that he and Vergil’s making up had been watched. A glance over at his brother showed that the other’s face was just as red.
“Are you two quite through?” Alastair asked.
“Yes.” Dante said sarcastically “As if we’d had a choice anyway right?”
Alastair smirked. “You’re right. I would have interrupted you if you had gone on any further. That kind of sweetness makes me sick, you know.”
Vergil rolled his eyes and stood up.
“So what do we do now?” he asked.
“We go to the castle.” Rachel said.
“What castle?” Dante and Vergil spoke at the same time.
They looked at each other, shrugged, and turned their attention back to their godmother. They were twins after all; speaking in time with each other was something that they had always done.
“The castle in my dreams.” Alastair said quietly “The castle mentioned in the letter.”
“But we don’t know where it is.” Dante said.
“I do.” Rachel cut in “I’ve been there a few times.” She laughed lightly. “The two of you were born there, and I delivered you.”
Dante and Vergil groaned, making Alastair chuckle.
“Go get what you need.” Rachel said “If my suspicion is right, then that castle will be packed full of demons protecting the gate. After that, I want you -” She pointed at Vergil. “- to go to bed and get some rest. You’re tired; I can see it in your face, so don’t bother arguing with me. Once you’ve slept a bit, then we will leave.” She held up her hands to forestall any arguments. “No doubt that gate is protected by magic, and you will need me to get through it, so don’t argue. You don’t leave until I do, and I won’t leave until Vergil has rested.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, daring any of them to say anything. Vergil and Dante were glaring at her with identical glares, itching to say something, but they wisely kept quiet. With a huff, Vergil asked Dante to get him some clean clothes and the Retribution, then he went off to his room to sleep. Dante gave one last glare at Rachel, then he opened a portal to his house, and he and Alastair stepped through.
Once they were gone, Rachel made sure that Vergil was sleeping, then she went into her library to gather what she needed. A whispered word and a wave of her hand and she was garbed in the heavy multilayered robes favored by the Sarcesti family - robes that she had not worn in over fifteen centuries. They were layered in protective spells and would repel most of the magic that other demons were capable of using. Against another Sarcesti, or someone like Talthos, they wouldn’t be much help, but she wasn’t worried about that. She went around the shelves, collecting what books she would need to close the gate and putting them in a satchel that she had put over her shoulder. Once she was satisfied that she had the books that she would need, she walked up to a wooden cabinet, similar to the one that was in the weapons room in the Sparda house, and released the spells on it. The doors clicked open, and she opened them to reveal two short swords and what looked like a walking stick.
While the Sarcesti family specialized in magic, they did use weapons, preferring short swords and staves to broadswords and spears. Rarely did they produce an Ensouled, even thought they magic needed to create one came fairly easy for them. They went through weapons training like every other demon, though theirs was nowhere as vigorous as the other demon families’, and they used their weapons only in situations where magic could do more harm than good.
Taking out her sword belt, Rachel strapped it on, and after giving her swords an once over, she put them in their sheathes before reaching into the cabinet and taking out the walking stick. At her mental command, it lengthened into a full sized staff, reaching nine feet in height. Too tall for most humans to use, but just right for a demon. She bid it to shrink back into a walking stick then inspected it carefully for damage of any kind. The smooth dark wood, which grew only in the demon world, was covered by many nicks and scratches, souvenirs of Rachel’s service in the human/ demon war. The head of the staff was a crouched figure of Rachel herself in her demon form. With the staff in its compact form of a walking stick, the figure’s wings were folded, but once it was in its staff form again, the wings would open with razor edges and a span of over three feet, allowing her to use the staff as an effective weapon. Satisfied that the staff was as it should be, she placed in into a specially designed loop on her sword belt and sat down to wait for Dante to return.
She closed her eyes; she was not looking forward to her return to the Underworld. She was not looking forward to seeing Dali’mar’ne again. Fifteen centuries ago, when she had left the Underworld with Sparda’s help, she vowed that she would act as human as possible. Only her magic, which would not allow itself to be ignored, was the only trace of her true self that she kept around. She did not want any association with the world of her birth; reminders of it were too painful and made her think of things that she would rather forget.
Like Akemus.
Sighing in regret over things long past, she settled back into her chair and waited for Dante and Alastair to return.
Chapter 7 -- Chapter 9
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