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“Stop it!” the witch glowered. She had dealt with all sorts of glamoured men in her life but this one took the cake. Something had gone very wrong with her spell, but she could not figure out what. When they first met her spell appeared to be working flawlessly on the Son of Sparda, but it soon became obvious he still had too much free will. Her mouth watered at the sight of his power when he boldly announced he was there to retrieve the stolen grimoire. Of course, she now realized his power came with a side of... well... him, and Dante was proving to be quite the handful.
Currently, the legendary devil hunter sat comfortably in a large blackened cauldron. Granted he had surprised her in the middle of glancing thru the tome, and she quickly sputtered something about a bath as she wove a love spell on him to give her a chance to further bind his power. Fortunately, he appeared to be an idiot and did not question her seduction or the request that before they continue their foray into undying love that he bathe in the cauldron which just happened to sit in the middle of this supposedly haunted forest. She cringed when he called her Babe and offered to do anything she wants if she asks sweetly. Definitely. An idiot.
Dante was now surrounded by lovely root vegetables and an herbed broth. “Mmm I’m not really into vegetables, per se, but I have to admit I really do make a tasty broth.” He chuckled tossing his head back as he splayed his arms to the rim on either side. He sunk into the broth sighing. The witch rolled her eyes and turned her back again desperately skimming thru the grimoire to find any spell that could do more than justly blinded have him fall in love with her. Preferably, she needed a spell to bind his mouth shut. She could work on leeching his power later.
Dante smirked almost able to feel the young woman’s growing frustration. He glanced around the sparse cabin before splashing in the broth to distract her. He found a carrot and chewed it loudly watching the witch tense as he did. He made an exaggerated motion to wipe his brow as she turned with a triumphant glint in her eye. “Phew, it’s getting a bit steamy in here. I should prolly take off my shirt.” He shrugged as he watched her expression glaze over and her moment of triumph in whatever form she thought it was about to take vanish. Poof. He chewed thoughtfully on the carrot as the witch sighed and her shoulders sagged. When she lifted her eyes once more Dante grinned and dipped his carrot into the broth that bubbled around him before taking another bite. “Ya know, I think I could use a bit more salt.”
“Get Out!” she screamed. “I release you, just get out.” She sobbed falling to her knees and covering her face. “I promise to never practice witchcraft again if you just leave and never tell anyone of my failure. Just take the damn grimoire and... GET. OUT!”
Dante frowned mildly disappointed by this outcome considering this job had started with such potential. He gave a shrug and lifted from the cauldron causing the witch to blink thru her tears at him. He slogged out of the brew and dripped to her wood floor making a puddle. “Whelp, sorry about the mess, sure you won’t change your mind? I mean that was a pretty sweet brew ya had going there.”
Again, she blinked before she frowned and struggled to her feet angry by the relative ease with which he stood. “Wait just a damn minute! I may have said I released you, but I didn’t actually...” Dante shrugged splaying his hands to either side. A small talisman slipped from beneath his shirt and her eyes practically bugged out at it. She scrambled back toward the book when Dante looked down to where she had been staring to see the carved bone piece his brother had loaned him peeking from behind his undone buttons. With a feral grin, he snapped into his triggered form and dispatched the witch before she could finish uttering the first line of what was no doubt a much stronger spell.
“Damn, so this little thing worked. Meh, I don’t have to tell him.” Back in human form, he snagged his coat and boots from the altar where he first made the witch believe he was smitten by her womanly charms. He then closed the grimoire which hissed at his touch and pulled the long thread from around his neck that held the talisman. He carefully wrapped the book three times making sure the talisman lay on top of the wound thread and the carved plate to the front of the book itself. Then he paused. “What was I supposed to say?” He shrugged. “Abracadabra!” Suddenly the book jumped in his hand as the bone talisman turned into a set of skeleton hands and clasped the book shut. “Huh! That worked. No need for fancy words or anything. Vergil and his big fancy stupid words.” He tucked the book into an inner pocket and started to whistle as he strode away from the cabin. He particularly enjoyed the crisp and cool fall air.
To Dante’s surprise Vergil was still up with a light on in the front office when he arrived back home. He figured his brother would return from his job before him, but he didn’t really expect to see him wait up. Quietly it warmed his heart. Vergil struggled to admit his more tender emotions, but Dante was not blind to seeing he did care. He grinned at the successful completion of his mission and was giddy knowing his brother was concerned. He pushed the front door open carefully in the hopes of seeing his brother had nodded off reading. What he saw was Vergil staring at their mother’s picture before he quickly feigned searching his desk for something.
“How you can find anything in this mess is a miracle,” he growled. He lifted his eyes from the desk to give his brother the once over. “Were you successful?” His tone was even and a touch cold, but the red oaf caught the twinge of hopefulness.
“I have a system and yes. What? Didn’t ya think I could handle a simple contract?” He pulled the tome from inside his pocket and Vergil simply stared before straightening.
“To be honest no, but I see you actually remembered the spell.” Dante was a little offended and yet even now he couldn’t remember what word triggered the locking spell. Wasn’t it ‘Bibbity Boppity Boo?’ Vergil would figure it out.
“Pfftt... Of course.”
“Hnn, I am impressed.”
“See. I do listen.” Vergil narrowed his eyes at him but took the book watching it shimmer as it passed from one devil to the other.
“Yes, so it would seem, and the witch?”
“Unfortunate but she didn’t make it.”
“Hmm I expected as much. I suppose it was a good thing she had already faked her own death.” He turned the book over in his hands and suddenly his eyes narrowed. Dante was already heading for the stairs when Vergil reached out and caught his arm. “Dante? Why do you reek of...” He scented the air and gave his brother a most curious look even going so far as to lean forward and sniff him.
“Like what?”
“Chicken soup.” Vergil watched confused as Dante growled climbing the stairs like a petulant child. Surely, he was hiding something.
“It was not chicken!