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A Devil's Heart	By : PerireAnimus Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 4438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Authors Note: Sorry this chapter took awhile, because of the holiday’s and my 7X7 class (A Sociology college class that was 7 days for 7 hours took up most of my time, thankfully I got an ‘A’ in that class! Whew~) The good news is I’m working on the 6^th chapter, the bad news is my classes will be starting up again on the 12^th, so I’ll be back to my busy life as a student once again. I will do my best in trying to work on “A Devil’s Heart” when I’m able to and keep my fans updated. :3 Happy New Year everyone and hope your holidays were a blast~ …mine was… awkward… I just hope this new year is better than the last 5 years… D: Also I would like to thank Tora-Katana and Naiya for taking the time in going over this chapter during the business of the holiday's, I am in your debt and appreciate your willingness in helping me in my work. Thanks and Happy New Year~!
I am glad that some have liked the 4^th chapter as my betas would agree and a few friends that enjoy reading my fic. I will do my best to continue in improving in my writing and bring forth more creative and interesting chapters in the future~ Enjoy the 5^th chapter and don‘t be shy to leave a review~! :D
A Devils Heart

V
Veneficus Ambrosius
   The large, dark and ominous room sported elongated windows, allowing the light of the moon to creep in. A hooded, black-robed figure holding a long piece of white chalk quickly drew a large circle on the dark wooden floor, his strokes forming markings of ancient knowledge long forgotten by time. Within the circle he drew two smaller ones, first left, then right, with the same ancient glyphs. Dozens of black and red candles lit the round room, giving it an eerie ambience in the open space. The candles sat quietly upon wooden tables, shelves, the floor, the windowsills and an antique table, which held a few large, old books of advanced sorcery, their pages delicate, and stained yellow from time. The robed figure began to speak in a whisper in a tongue long dead: the ritual had begun.
   “I seal the circle to lock the soul of the one whom I summon. The moon cries as it slowly dies, the blood moon comes…” a man’s deep voice began the incantation, bellowed in the old language, as the speaker raised himself up to stand next to the candle covered table, a few ancient Grimoires opened to the specific summoning spell. As he continued the candles began to flicker.
   He lifted a long sword similar to a Japanese O-katana-- imbued with tremendous magic from long ago-- from the round wooden table. Grasping the pure white hilt firmly with slender hands near the gold decorated hand guard, he quickly removed the clean blade from its smooth, black lacquered scabbard with lightning like patterns decorating its ends, the long gold cords gently swaying in the chilled air. Gently setting the scabbard down onto the table, the tall figure turned to face the white symbol on the floor, gazing at the moon in the dark night sky through the clear tall windows.
   “…With this key I hold, I summon thee. The Seed of Sparda shall come to unto me,“ continued the figure in a calm voice as he lifted the sword to the moon, observing it was close to time. A total lunar eclipse was at hand as the moon was nearly consumed by the mysterious, dark shadow.
   An old, elaborate grandfather clock clicked into the Devil’s Hour as the loud gongs rumbled out from its creaking glass window and wood, announcing its time, echoing throughout the large expanse of an eighteenth century Renaissance style mansion. The shining eyes intently watched the moon be swallowed up by darkness. There was a moment of empty blackness in the sky, when suddenly the moon glowed blood red, its light dimly illuminating the room in a wicked glow of crimson. The robed figure wrapped his left hand around the sleek blade, casting off hesitation, and quickly sliced through his flesh without flinching, letting the dark, sanguine droplets fall onto the white symbol below, still speaking in tongues in a loud authoritative tone, the light of the candles flickering rapidly.
   “I give thee my life’s blood to summon and bind thee to me, lest the angel of death or my will sever this bond. With all my power, heart and soul, I summon forth the Son of Sparda and awaken the soul of Vergil!” yelled the man as he turned to the two empty circles, the left being filled by a bloody palm, the right with a sharpened blade.
   As soon as his hand and the blade touched the white markings, they began to glow from a deep red to a hot white and back. The candles suddenly extinguished, as shadows enveloped the room, the red glow of the lunar eclipse and summoning circle illuminating the room in a disturbing hue. The old house began to shake and rumble loudly, the table falling sideways, its contents cluttering onto the mahogany floor, away from the figure. A mysterious gust of wind blew the man’s robes out from behind him and an inhuman roar filled the air. The room filled with heat and quickly cooled as a bright flash consumed the room and then faded to blackness. A slender man in deep blue crouched within the burnt circle in the middle of the room, the chalk markings gently smoldering into the wood before extinguishing into bitter smoke. The smell of sulfur and thick smoke subtly filled the air, the smoke twirling from the heavy breaths of the two beings.
   The robed man quickly stood up, appearing prideful, to behold the creature he successfully summoned, the large hood partially concealing the wicked grin that crept across his lips as he yanked out the sword from the burned, wooden floor and sheathed it.
   A strong voice sliced through the silence in the oval room, “…Welcome to the realm of the humans… Vergil,” the sorcerer slowly declared in an accent, a hint of arrogance in his tone as he watched intently the crouched figure.
   Vergil slowly stood from where he kneeled, ignoring the remark, his eyes closed as he took in a deep breath of Earthen air with a hint of smoke; the scent of sulfur had already disappeared. The air quickly filled his lungs in a tingling sensation, as if reviving the life in his body. He slowly exhaled, savoring the simplicity of breathing clean air and feeling the sensation that his surroundings did not consist solely of agony and despair. Enjoying the simple silence, one that was not constantly filled with tormented screams and groans of the damned and the devil‘s unmistakable roars and growls, with the occasional laugh at those who were suffering. As a slight smirk fell upon his tired, hallowed face his body shivered at the simple pleasure of being alive.
   God, this feels so good. He thought in amusement.
   His serene moment was shattered, his eyes snapped open as he heard the man's voice and he was immediately aware of all the troubles of being alive, and the realization of his body’s fatigue and hunger that left him a feeling of discomfort.
   “I present to you this sword, returning it to its rightful owner,” said the mysterious cloaked man before him in a heavy black silk robe, his face hidden beneath the hood, his arms were stretched out, holding the long sword out with both hands, palms up.
   Vergil peered at the sword presented before him and; to his surprise, he recognized it. It was his cherished Yamato, the very sword his father had wielded and had left it to him as a young boy after he had died. He then became very much aware of the half-Perfect Amulet pendent he still possessed, secretly hidden beneath his clothes, the sacred piece given to him by his late mother. Memories of his past flashed into his thoughts, haunting him again, forcing him to focus on where he was. He slowly walked to where the man stood and paused a few feet from him, taking in the subtle beauty of the sword before he firmly grasped the scabbard, slowly lifting it away from the silent sorcerer, who bowed his head slightly in respect. Vergil reverently drew the blade, slowly looking over its graceful curve, seeing it had been well taken care of as his reflection gleamed from the flat of the exquisite devil blade.
   “…Who are you?” Vergil asked in a slow, suspicious tone, observing that the man was of equal height to him.
   The summoner grinned wickedly and replied haughtily, “I have many names… At one time I was known as Veneficus Ambrosius: The Immortal Sorcerer. But all those who knew me as such are long past dead. You may call me Master for now…” After hearing that, Vergil frowned in disgust at the notion of having to call another revolting being his “master.”
   He wanted to instinctively cut the man in front of him into several pieces, to release his long held anger gained from Hell’s fury, to cover the floor with the sorcerer’s blood and spit on his dying remains. His rage slowly boiled to the surface, grinding his teeth as he tightly held the sword in his hand, resisting the temptation, remembering his first master’s warning to him if he should ever be disobedient. So instead, he nodded silently, accepting his “master’s” wishes.
   His new master just smiled at his compliance and continued, “…Good, I am pleased that you willingly acknowledge my superiority. If you dare disobey me and try to do anything foolish, believe me, you will regret it,” he finished in a serious tone as he pulled out a small object from underneath his robes and held it out to Vergil.
   “Wear this around your neck. Keep it on you at all times and never remove it.” Vergil absentmindedly took the small object held by a metal iron chain into his hand. “It is a powerful charm I prepared for you. It will prevent anyone from noticing you unless you allow them to notice you by initiating conversation or do something that will make one notice you such as harming or killing someone which I advise you don’t do unless there are no witnesses. But even still it is a risk and you and I cannot afford to draw attention towards us by any means,” the man added in a low, serious accent.
   Vergil was very displeased by hearing this, his expression quickly became a scowl in the shadows. His ideas of revenge were being slowly pulled out of reach and he wasn’t going to allow it.
   “I was promised my revenge; you will not deny me that!” he spat out scornfully through clenched teeth as he boldly pointed an angry finger at his master, his sword resting at his side for the moment, anticipating bloodshed.
   The Immortal Sorcerer raised his head defiantly, “We will see about this revenge of yours… but for now do nothing but the task you were sent here to do. If you cannot even do that I can always send you back!” he snapped, angry at Vergil’s impertinence.
   Vergil quietly lowered his head in obedience as his tightened fist fell to his side, his body slightly shaking in rage. It took all his willpower not to tear the man apart with his bare hands as he noticed the scent of blood in the air.
   “You are here to serve me and our Lord, not to fulfill your foolish whims. I may allow you to have this revenge of yours once I know I can truly trust you and that you can be relied on in this goal of ours. I’m certain you know why you are here?” his master asked, slight frustration in his voice.
   Vergil nodded in irritation, angry with the situation, answering quietly, “…Yes,” as he observed the area around him with his glowing eyes, the dim light of the moon gently illuminating the dark room.
   The room had several bookcases embedded in the walls, filled with old books. Unlit candles were strewn about the floor and windowsills with some on their sides. A small, fallen table with a few books on the floor near it, assuming it all fell from the ritual that took place not too long ago. Several large, elegant wooden tables and chairs had been stacked off to the side near the walls, windows, and bookshelves, apparently to give more space in the room for the ritual, though the tables looked too big and heavy for just one man to move. The giant crystal chandelier swaying gently on the tall ceiling above and the room’s dark walls covered with paintings of angels and far off lands brought a sense of elegance to the room. A very large fireplace with the remains of burned wood off between the walls and bookcases with a beautiful giant painting above it lay silently off to his right. It appeared to be a personal library, something that Vergil was fond of, as he had enjoyed reading books on many things that had piqued his interests. It had been a very long time since he had read a book, smelled of its ink and old pages, the feel of its weight in knowledge and its crisp paper between his fingers as the words took him somewhere far from here or taught secrets of things unknown or the history of man‘s past.
   “Splendid, saves me from having to explain things to you. I warn you to go about this task intelligently but with caution, which I have no doubt will not be difficult for you, since our Lord has personally chosen you to do this.” Turning away from Vergil while he picked up the table and books from the floor, carefully wiping the covers with his unbloodied hand and laying them on the surface of the table quietly, before he continued, “You may go about your business in the city and this property. You will have easy access to the Order’s property as well, in which you can freely walk among others without being noticed. With this in mind, I would quietly observe the person you are here for, Angelea Sanctus.” He said, turning to face the white haired man again, his focus went away from the shelved books and listening intently to the words of his “master”, “I could tell you who she is but it would not help unless you experienced who she is yourself. Her personality, her likes and dislikes, how she thinks and acts, et cetera. It is your responsibility to know her personally and to use that information to help in your endeavors to bringing her to our side.” He tilted his head slightly, face still hidden.
   Vergil wondered who this man was and what he looked like beneath the protection of his plain robes. The robed man continued in a low tone, “You are here to assist me and nothing more. Do as I say and there should be no misfortune to you. What I ask of you is simple and should be easily done. But I must warn you, do not reveal your past and why you are truly here or anything else that can cause question and ill effects against you, especially from Angelea, she is smarter than you may be led to believe and likes to ask questions,” the robed figure warned as he began to walk past Vergil, exiting the private library into the wide hallway.
   Vergil took this as a sign to follow him, passing closed doors and open rooms, down towards the two winding stairways which lead into the large, main entryway. Following the droplets of a blood trail that came from beneath the confines of the black robes made keeping up to his “master” an easy task.
   The man continued on as they slowly descended the staircase, his tone changed, a hint of warmth in his words where it was once indifferent and cold, “An innocent yet naïve girl, she loves to learn and understand everything around her. Do not be put off by her personality and actions, she likes to please people and is friendly,” pausing near two very large ebony wooden doors, slits of stained glass and carvings decorating it in intricate designs, an unseen smile was attached to his next words, “Quite an amicable girl, actually." The robed man quickly turned to face Vergil who stood silently a few feet away, watching as he listened to the man intently “But I warn you, if you harm her in any way, you will be answering to me and I will not hesitate to send you back from whence you came. Understand?!” he stated loudly, the warmth disappearing from his words and returning to its normal coldness.
   “…I understand,” the tall, pale man replied as he slowly came down the rugged steps, shining eyes peering at the mysterious man he has already began to loath.
   The Immortal Sorcerer nodded and continued with his directions as he pointed at a circular dial above the door to his right, “This dial here, when turned to the specific points above it, will open a gateway that will teleport you to three different locations,” he pointed at one of the parts colored in white, “This one will take you to where this house presently is located which is outside of the city, far away from the Order’s location,” he then pointed to the red part, which is where the point was presently on, “This will take you to an old abandoned building that is six blocks away from where the Order is, between the temple and the Order’s personal residence which is my other home. This is where you can easily access both locations without much traveling,” lastly, he pointed at the black part, and in a serious tone, “This one is none of your concern and I would advise that you keep your curiosity to yourself since this one has no benefit to you.”
   Vergil nodded in acknowledgement, already at the bottom of the staircase, his body already yearning for rest and food-- feeling fatigued, as he put a steady hand onto the decorative wooden railing to prevent himself from falling. The man noticed this slight act from Vergil but took no heed and continued on silently towards another area located at the back of the large expanse of the home on the ground level. Vergil followed after, taking no notice of the mostly darkened rooms lit up by the light of the moon as they passed. Keeping sight of his master who paused in a large room which was the servants’ kitchen area and connected pantry, Vergil observed a large wooden island in the middle of the room with a bowl of fresh fruit upon its smooth surface. As he focused on the apples, pears, and grapefruit, his eyes locked on each and slid off to the next only to go back again, his mouth watering at the site of them, as he swallowed his hunger.
   The sorcerer snatched a hand towel and began to wrap it around his bloodied left hand tightly, “Help yourself to anything you like in here since this will be your home for the time being. You are free to roam and have access to anything in this house except my room, which is forbidden. If you are wondering where that is located, it is upstairs and is the only room I keep locked,” he finished in his strange accent.
   The sorcerer then went to another stairway which was connected to the kitchen, going up the narrow servant’s staircase. Vergil quickly grabbed a ripe pear without the other noticing as he held it firmly in his right hand to conceal it and proceeded to follow silently behind him. Passing more rooms down another long hall, they stopped in front of a closed door, which the sorcerer quietly opened and revealed an ample size bedroom. In it was a large canopy bed with feathered pillows and a folded blanket of heavy material at the foot. The room was refurbished with all the needs a person would have in the comforts of their own room. Unexpectedly, a quiet meow came from the shadows as a black Norwegian Forest cat with blue eyes jumped atop the bed, purring as it settled in the heavy floral, satin covers of deep blue and silver. Vergil frowned at this; he wasn’t going to be sharing his living space with an annoying, shedding cat.
   “This will be your room, the cat you see there is Minerva and I would advise you don’t let her outside of the house into the city area. The place this house is located in is fine for her to roam freely since it’s mostly forest outside,” the man informed as he stood inside Vergil’s room to gently remove the cat from his bed which meowed in protest, then walked back towards the door and paused near Vergil, the feline purring loudly in the mans arms. “…I must go now and will leave you alone in this mansion, but I shall return later within a few days. Rest, and then begin the task you were brought here to do. Do not disappoint me…” he said in a low warning in the accent Vergil couldn’t quite place, as the man turned to leave, cat in hand, and quietly disappeared around the corner into the darkness.
   Vergil was left alone in his new place of residence as he surveyed the dark room. It was quiet but cold, despite its elegance. Seeing the bed made him suddenly exhausted as he closed the door behind him and walked towards the bed. He set his sword near the bed, resting it on the wall, adorned with blue flower wallpaper. He looked at the pear in his hand and decided he was too tired to even eat, so he gently laid it on the antique nightstand for tomorrow morning’s meal. Aware of the charm he still held in his other hand, he inspected it. It had a small metal flask, half the size of his finger, with an insignia carved into it that looked strangely familiar. The object probably contained the specific herbs and ingredients needed to make the charm work. He put the charm around his neck and hid it beneath his clothes.
   He fell back onto the down feather bed and its enveloping top cover, then slowly grabbed for the blanket at the foot of the bed and casually covered the mid part of his body as he allowed his eyes to drift closed. The long awaited rest quickly came over his body as it went limp, the muscles relaxed, his breath shallow as his abdomen gently raised up and down in a slow rhythm. His mind going numb and clear from the thoughts of tomorrow and his duty, for now rest was what he yearned for, what had been denied him for so long. It felt exquisite to be able to sleep again as he slowly drifted away into pleasant darkness.
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A Devil's Heart