One second he was in a chilly forest of Ireland and the next warmth surrounded him as he hovered in the air a few meters above an ivory carpeted floor. Three pairs of eyes looked up at him and backed away a second before whatever force was making him float disappeared. He fell hard, face-first into the carpet. Well, at the very least, he hadn’t landed over any of his bosses; that would have been his death.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he pushed himself out of the floor and stood up, taking a hand to the back of his neck. Feeling the tension in his muscles, he cracked his bones and sighed in delight when the painful stiffness subsided. “She did that on purpose, didn’t she?” He looked around what seemed to be Lilith’s office —since everything was decorated with reds and golds— searching for his female companion and a curse flew out of his mouth. She was nowhere to be seen. Realization dawned on him and his dark eyes narrowed. “Damn woman!” He passed a hand through his hair, stopping at the back of his head, and pressed his lips into a thin line as he closed his eyes. “Tara!”

Vergil took a step towards the man, followed closely behind by Luca. He suddenly glanced at the blond as if the guy held the answers to the newcomer’s outburst but received none. “Calm down, Marcus. You need to take it slowly and be careful, so your wounds don’t reopen.”

“Tara healed me,” the dark-haired man snapped, took out his wool coat, and threw it to the carpeted floor so everyone could see his torso. “There’s not even scars left.”

His boss lifted a white eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. Hell’s fury would rain upon Vergil’s head if his mother got wind that Tara was in fact Ashtarae— the only daughter of the demonic crown prince. Lilith desperately wanted to find the long-lost duchess to please her firstborn and regain his love. After all, even when more than two millennia had passed, Baphomet was still angry because his dear old mommy betrayed his daddy and had the Greek bastard— a.k.a Vergil.

So, having Tara in his grasp but hidden away from her father was something the white-haired demon did to get back at his eldest half-brother for all the centuries of bad blood between them. In the end, it was nothing more than an act of pure vengeance.

“This Tara is a witch?” the Scarlet Queen asked Marcus, who paled a little under her gaze.

“I don’t know, ma’am.”

Her annoyed stare then fell upon her son, expecting an answer from him instead. As her right-hand man, it was his duty to know every person who was related to their employees in any way.

Vergil nodded but then his electric blue eyes shifted to his best friend, watching him as if the guy’s innards held all the answers of the universe. “Yes, she is, mom. But I’m finding her actions puzzling since she vowed to never use her magic again.”

The dark-haired mortal lifted his palms and shook his head. “Don’t look at me, man. I’m just as clueless as you are.” His dark brown gaze turned glassy for a moment and then his eyes widened as if he had suddenly remembered something particularly important. “Vergil, the Yakuzas are being aided by invisible dogs and… and flaming people.” His brow furrowed, doubting if he had described his most recent enemies correctly.

His boss turned to the large glass window behind Lilith’s desk, tapping his chin with his index finger. “Hellhounds and flame demons.”

“D-demons?” Marcus swallowed hard before continuing, “You mean like the inhabitants of hell?”

“Well,” his friend turned to face him with a wicked smirk on his lips, “the hellhound term should have given it away.”

There was a moment of silence while Marcus pondered his boss’ words before his lips moved again. “So, demons are walking among us.” It wasn’t a question but more like a statement to try and come to terms with the new information. It wasn’t only the fact that supernatural creatures truly existed, he had been flung around all New York by them to be forced to come to terms with that little bit, it was the little bit unsaid. The one that confirmed the existence of hell; that part was the one making his head reel.

Hell. Is. A. Real. Place.

“And that’s precisely why you should stay here. Protected and under mother’s watch.” Vergil’s words broke through his thoughts like a jagged knife.

“Why? Missus Larsa is…”

“Not what she seems. Believe me, you’ll be safer here than in the White House itself,” his friend interrupted him, glancing around to search for the female in question but there was no trace of Lilith nor Luca inside the office. The prince growled as he balled his hands into fists. “Even if my mother is now banging the blue-fringe Aztec god that we need to plan our next move, no one will dare cross her and attack this place… not even the angels.” That didn’t rule out the Archangels, but Marcus didn’t need to know that bit.

“You mean she left with Luca?” The dark-haired man furrowed his brow, staring at his companion with a confused look in his eyes. “Then, he is…” he cut short abruptly and lifted his arms in a gesture of surrender. “You know what, forget it. I don’t want to know more but one thing I won’t do is sit around in this house while you and the rest of the boys risk your lives out there. If something happens to you, what am I going to tell Mina? No, I won’t let you leave me behind!”

Vergil sighed and rolled his eyes. “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Yeah, right. That’s what people always say.”

“Marcus,” his boss called out. His voice was stern, demanding him to focus his attention on his next words. “I need people with special skills out there and you are not one of them.”

“You mean you need the supernaturals. And let me guess, you’re going to lead the team?”

“Gods of Old, Marcus, you’re worse than my wife!” He was in front of the human male in an instant. “This is for your own good. Sleep,” Vergil commanded, putting two fingers over his friend’s forehead. Marcus’ eyelids closed in an instant and his body began falling but the demon prince was quick to react. Passing his friend’s arm around his shoulders and holding the guy by the waist, Vergil took him out of the office in search of a place where the man could sleep off his magic.

****

His temptress… his witch stood in front of him surrounded by shadows. Strong winds blew her long hair and flimsy black dress, making them fan out to the side like capes of rose gold and onyx. She gave him her back, turning all her attention to some unknown thing in the void that surrounded them.

He called out to her.

There was no answer, no acknowledgment from her part that she had heard him.

He called out again and reached out to touch her shoulder. The moment his fingers were supposed to touch her skin, they went through, and her figure dispersed in the air like a cloud of smoke.

“Don’t look for me again,” her sad tone echoed around before the smoke disappeared, leaving him alone in the dark void.

“Tara!” he yelled. “Don’t leave me! Tara!” Marcus fell to his knees and hid his face between his hands as the tears began falling. “Tara. Please, babe. Please, come back.”

“She always has been a stubborn child. Even since she was a baby,” a disembodied voice said in a guttural tone that raised the hairs in the back of his head.

“Great, another one who doesn’t know the meaning of privacy,” the dark-haired man muttered under his breath, turning around in a circle to search for the source of the voice. “Who are you?”

The being chuckled, chilling Marcus’ blood. There was something incredibly wrong and evil about the owner of that voice.

“I have been called by many names, none of which you would recognize.”

Okay, that did it. He was tired of being treated like a useless tool just because he couldn’t throw fireballs from his hands or shoot lasers from his eyes. One way or another, he would make them see his worth. “One thing is having my friend barging inside my mind, another thing completely different is having an unknown man, creature, or whatever is you are doing the same. Who the hell are you?”

Another chuckle. “The important question is what would you give to have Ashtarae by your side once more.”

“I won’t tell you shit until you tell me your name,” Marcus replied, letting his anger talk for him.

“Answer me, human.” The void shook and thunder roared around him. “Do you want Ashtarae back into your arms or not?”

“Ash who?”

“Ashtarae. The woman for whom you were screaming for. Do you want her back?” The mortal’s stupidity was pushing his limits; making him wish he could slit the bastard’s throat and rid the universe of one more idiot. What did my graití ever saw in this mongrel?

“Yes, I do. No matter the price, I want her to love me again.”

Resisting the urge to sigh, the voice ordered, “Then, awaken, Marcus Di’nardo. We have work to do.”

The moment his disembodied companion spoke, the void around was sucked inside a speck of light while he was pushed forward. He came awake with a scream, jolting upright in a strangely soft bed that he didn’t remember climbing on. As his heart rate slowed down, Marcus frowned and looked around, finding himself in an unfamiliar room.

Light came in through the tall glass windows, illuminating a bedroom of light gray walls and black marbled floors. A large dark wood dresser with a rectangular mirror stood against the far wall in front of him. On its left side was an assortment of makeup, jewelry, and feminine perfumes while on the left side stood a box displaying various watches beside three colognes for men.

There was no doubt he found himself in a couple’s bedroom and he bet he already knew the owners.

The Italian flung his feet over the side of the enormous bed and his eyes fell to the nightstand beside it. Two portraits smiled back at him. One showed a brunette of beautiful gray eyes —Mina, the wife of his boss and brother by choice— and the other showed the couple embracing each other the day of their wedding.

“Yeah.” He grabbed the wedding photo and stared at it for a couple of seconds before putting it back in its place. “Fucking bastard, I knew this was his room.”

Interesting, the voice inside his mind spoke all of a sudden, making him jump out of his skin. I’m guessing your friend thinks you’re a weakling.

Well, the same can be said about you.

More of that bone-chilling laughter echoed in his head. It was beginning to get annoying as hell. “What the fuck do you want?”

Help you while helping me. But first things first. You must summon me.

Marcus’ brows furrowed. He was starting to feel like he had made a deal with the devil. “Summon you? Who… no. What are you, some kind of demon?”

What if I’m a demon? I want to help you and you want Ashtarae to love you no matter the price. Those were your words, or am I mistaken?

The tanned man ignored the question and went to the bedroom door to open it just to find it locked. He growled before going to the dresser and searching for a hairpin that would help him force the lock. But the moment he inserted the pin, electric sparks flew from the door handle, and his chest was hit, with the force of a wrestling star, by an energy shockwave. His head swung backward followed by his body, throwing him a few feet away from the door.

You won’t be able to break that force field unless I help you, the creature stated, and this time there was no laughter in his voice.

Marcus grunted as he sat and tried to recover his breath. There was no point in trying to go back on his words, he was already in the bastard’s claws, wasn’t he? “Fuck! Tell me what I have to do, then.”

******************
A/N: I'm having problems writing lately. The chapter was going to include the summoning of Marcus' new friend but I cut it short. If anyone thinks it's important and should be added, feel free to letting me know 😉😝.

Diavol'eshmir (Demon tongue)
*graití= girl or little girl

Chapter word count: 2,114
Total word count: 13,010

Chapter song: Whisper from Evanescence