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As The Trumpets Sound	By : Laryna6 Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 4314 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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
- 8
- 9
- 10
Disclaimer: I don�t
own Devil May Cry.

-

Sparda had been gone this afternoon. He often disappeared, off to do whatever it was he did, spells or
fighting demons, or other things. She didn�t ask, just enjoyed the time alone
with the children. They missed him when he wasn�t there, Vergil especially.
Dante, these past few times, might be picking up on the fact she was more
comfortable, laughed more easily, when he wasn�t there. The boy was perceptive
and when he was curious he never dropped it. This was worrying her. She�d think
of something to tell him, people who didn�t really understand lies were not
that hard to outwit with a good story.

But Dante had human in him. He�d tried to lie once, about a
piece of cake. He�d done it very badly. She�d laughed.

Sparda was back now, standing in the door of the room and
looking very worried. And not by her. The only other
thing that worried him was the invasion he predicted. This looked like bad
worrying. Had something gone wrong?

�Eva?� Why was he trying to get her attention? He had it.

�Yes?�

�May I speak to you� hello, Vergil, Dante.�
They had run over and attached themselves to his legs. He bent down to pet
their heads, the smile not quite erasing the worry: it seemed to deepen. �May I
speak with you for a moment?�

�What is it?�

He glanced significantly at the twins. Not in front of the
children.

Bad news.

�Vergil, Dante.� Eva clapped her hands for attention. �Go to
your room and stay there, okay? The adults need to talk.�

�But Mommy��

�Boys�� she said warningly. �Shoo.�

They looked up at Sparda in hopes he would intervene. �Do as
your mother says,� he told them, pushing them gently away from his legs.

They sighed theatrically and walked slowly to their room,
looking over their shoulder.

Sparda closed it behind them, locked it, and frowned.
�Perhaps we should go elsewhere.�

Eva nodded. They could hear through the door perfectly well,
and were probably standing with their ears to it.

Sparda led her though the house, walking quickly. They arrived
in a sitting room, one of the many scattered about. Then he stopped, turned to
her, and seemed to be trying to work himself up to it.

�What is it?� she asked bluntly. The sooner he said it the
sooner she could, hopefully, get back to the children. She did not like being alone with him like this.
Her eyes noted all the exits, though if he� there was no hope of escape. He
wouldn�t, but she still feared. He wouldn�t, right?

�I�m dying,� he told her.

An odd mix of horror and jubilation filled her. He would be
gone soon? But what about the children? They would
need someone to teach them, if they were going to save the world. Maybe there
were others? �When?�

�I don�t know.� He looked at his hand. �The seal has been
draining me for a long time: it�s not a good thing to be split like this as
well. I thought I had� perhaps twenty years left, if I kept losing power at the
rate I had been. Long enough to teach them at least the
basics, and to do at least some of the fighting with them. Until my weakness made me die in battle.�

�Twenty?! You thought you had
twenty and you�� she bit it back, glaring. She shouldn�t be cruel to the dying.

�For us, that is a short time. Very short.
Our children can take centuries to come to full power. Half-breeds tend to grow
as humans do, but� since� I wanted them to live,
and I needed time for every lesson I could manage.�

And that was why he had� done it instead of trying to
convince her, though she knew he had know he wouldn�t
have been able to. But he could have at least�! He could have kept her
unconscious, so she would never know what happened� but that would have meant
the children couldn�t feed on her, and that would have meant that he needed to
supply everything, and that would have drained him faster� he�d told her all
this, when he was trying to convince her it had been right, what he�d done.

At least he had the grace to stop doing that. Until now. But he knew he�d said too much, and his eyes
apologized. �Recently, I started losing power faster. I can hardly maintain my
devil form for any decent length of time, and it�s harder to feed. I don�t know
much about how my kind ages or is ill in a manner like this: the sick do not
live long, and if this were my realm I would be dead by now, I would have
sought death in battle in some useful way. My body, at
least.�

�Your body?�

�When I die, my soul will seek out the rest of itself, and sleep in my sword until the seal breaks, then
some power will return. Not enough to resurrect me, enough that my devil arm
would empower the user.�

�Devil arm?�

�The term for the weapon or item that guards a strong soul
when the body is lost. Not all have them, preferring, if killed and defeated,
to die instead of serve their enemy, for that is how they are usually gained. I
have several. Yamato is one.�

�Oh.�

�To form one when you are still alive is to split yourself
in two��

�I�m sorry,� she interrupted him, �but I don�t get it at all
and unless it really matters, could we get back to what we were talking about?�
Rude, but� even if he deserved it, she shouldn�t be rude.

�I�m sorry.� He bowed slightly, as he did sometimes. It was
one more thing that annoyed her. He was sorry, he was always sorry. But not enough. �I think the rate at which I am getting
weaker will increase, perhaps exponentially. Not being able to get enough to
eat will weaken anyone.�

�So, how soon?�

�If it were left to nature? Simply, soon. Perhaps months. Or it
might return to the old rate. There are no spells to help this I do not already
use.� He shook his head.

�So what happens when you die? Demons attack us?�

He shook his head. �They do not know you exist. That is your
safety. And it will take them some time to realize I am dead. I have shields on
Vergil and Dante that will hide the fact they are my children, and you� do not
have enough of a connection to me to need to be shielded like that. Which is good, for your powers erode my spells quickly, as they
erased the record that you bore my children.�

Good, she thought,
grateful for that. So her� soul? Whatever they looked
at, was free of him. And she wouldn�t need any spells.

�I have created records,� he went on, having seen that flash
of happiness in her. �That say you are someone else, though you keep the name
Eva, and I think it would be best if I brought a house for you somewhere. Wherever you would like. You could say you are a widow. I
think the children would understand not to speak of me, if we explained their
safety depends on it.�

Widow implied marriage. But it was better than having
children out of wedlock. She could say she was raising them for someone else, a
foster parent, but she didn�t want to deny them, just him. �They�re smart,� she
agreed. To never be reminded of him. But no. �Isn�t
there anyone you can send them to? For training?�

�There is, but� I doubt they could keep two of such power
secret. I will give you swords, guns for them. The weapons themselves can teach
them much.� He swallowed. �It� it will have to do.� He had already started
teaching them the basics, positions and strikes and such things, though their
small size was a problem. They could shoot well. Amazingly
well, to Eva�s eyes: she watched and clapped for them. �There is
something I can do, but I will wait on that.�

�What?� she asked, suspicious.

�Die. Would you like to be the one to kill me?� He looked
hopeful.

�What?!�

�A willing sacrifice has power. The priestess� created the seal, mine would strengthen it, enough to buy more time. If
not, it will most likely fail when I perish, having not the strength to empower
it any longer.�

She made her hands fists to keep them from trembling. �Thou
shalt not kill.�

�Even if I want to die?�

�That�s suicide, a mortal sin.� She looked at him. �Why do
you want me to kill you?�

�You have the right,� he told her quietly, eyes showing his
sincerity.

�It�s not that. You want to pay with your life for what you
did. How romantic.� Part of her wanted this. Could she
make him scream? No, he didn�t mind pain. How would it happen? Would she pierce
his heart with his own sword?

�I�ll do it myself if you don�t want to feel guilty.� He
looked away, sad.

�I wouldn�t feel guilty.� Wasn�t this what she wanted? Him gone, this castle and those rooms far behind her, alone with
the children. She wanted it.

�Then, will you?� Hope, there, and she wanted to break it.

�Why do you want me to?�

�Because I want to pay for this with my
life.�

�Pay. You�re not doing this for me.
I wanted to kill you before and you didn�t let me scratch you. You�d doing this
for the same reason you raped me. You just want me to kill you so you�ll feel
better as you die. You want to stop feeling guilty. No, you�re not even really
guilty. You�re more� I don�t think you�re capable of guilt.�

�I know I have done wrong.� His head was bowed.

�But you feel you
have done right. All of this. You�re trying to win me over, you want me to remember you as a hero. And when you
get brought back to life again, eventually, you want me to remember your
sacrifice, and have seen that what you did was necessary, and have decided, not to forgive you, but that you did the right thing all
along and there was nothing to forgive.� Her voice was rising. �That you�re a hero, who sacrificed his honor for the good of humanity instead
of the kind of person, no, not person, devil,
that can rape a woman and enjoy it.�
Her glare was full force now, all her hate in her eyes.

His head remained bowed. �You are right. More.
I wanted to ask you a favor in return. I am not� I can ask nothing of you, not
even death. For� No. I will go, and let you get back
to the children. I will work on finding you a house, and moving books it will
help the children to study there.�

�What favor?� she snarled.

�A� there are two powers that humans have that my kind
dismisses. The power to cry, for one. To willingly throw away all that power?� He shook his head. Incomprehensible. �The other, to lie.�

�I�m already lying for you to the children. What, was that it? You wanted me to tell them you were a
hero, never let them know what you did? I would have done that anyway. Not for
you, for them.�

�No, nothing that unselfish.� He
shook his head.

�You�re ashamed,� she realized, and was glad. �Tell me.�

�I wanted for, for you to pretend, for a day, that you loved
me. Soon, I could not feel otherwise. I would have died happy, then.�

�You. Scum.
Happy? With the children, and me left behind, and� I want to kill you,� she snarled. �I want
to hurt you. You�ve made me the kind of person that wants to hurt, and I hate you for it. I�ll always hate you.�

�I thought, that you were� you don�t hate me as much.�

�Stop. Paying.
Attention,� she ordered him. �Damn
you.�

�Yes,� he agreed. And his head still looked down and he
looked like he wanted to curl up and die.

Not that distant look of regret, no pleading, simply shame and
the honest admission he had done something wrong. He truly regretted it. �I�ll
do it. Both of them.�

His head jerked up, meeting her eyes, and there was no
triumph or happiness, otherwise she would have taken her words back, simply
shock. ��what?�

�You heard me.�

�Are you lying?�

�No. I might change my mind, though,� she warned him.

�I shall expect that, then.�
- 8
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As The Trumpets Sound