Shadows of Carast

Music filled the Bloody Dagger—a rather shady name for a run-of-the-mil tavern. People gathered around tables, sharing stories and laughter. On either side of the large dining area, one could find chairs gathered by the hearth. Fresh logs popped into the night.

Smells of fresh bread and stew wafted throughout the tavern. Tantalizing drunkards to spend more of their well-earned coin. A tactic the elven bartender relished in. Another business tactic he’d resorted to was filling his staff with succubi. Scantily clad, demonic waitresses were certainly a way to draw in those with loose pockets. The perfect cover for those in the business of shady activity. Rambunctious crowds drown out conversation. Making it impossible for one to eavesdrop on illegal matters. The perfect cover for Vergil.

Or it would have been. He gingerly sipped at his ale. One he’d paid extra to have watered down. It was not his intention to get drunk himself. But he used it as his own form of cover. To any onlooker, he was just another soul trying to forget the struggles of life. When in reality, Vergil was patiently waiting. Eyes darting through the crowd in search of his compatriot.

As was common during their planned meetings, he was punctual while she was not. After all these years, he cursed himself. Eve had never once been on time for one of their meetings. So why was it he always was? He could think of a few reasons he had yet to break that habit. He enjoyed the quiet. It gave him something to complain about to her. Or maybe, just maybe a small part of him still had hope for her. If such a part of him existed, it continued to slowly die out. Like the last few embers of the previous night’s campfire.

In his heart, Vergil settled on all those reasons being true. Dealing with Eve was something he could never find himself prepared for. And he did quite enjoy shunning her for her poor sense of time. Mostly since it was her who always chose when the two should meet. But his hope for her. That was the main driving force for his continual punctual nature. A feeling in his gut told him the day he chose to arrive late, that would be the day she arrived on time.

Vergil combed fingers through his copper curls. Some of which had begun to gray at an early age. No use fretting now. His throat burned as he chugged down half a tankard in one go. Despite the watered-down nature, his tolerance for ale was far from built. Only having taken up the habit less than three months back. Heat raised in his cheeks. Vision beginning to double, but not yet out of focus. One more drink would push him over the line. One more drink he held no intention of having.

But things never went as planned. A fresh tankard found its way before him. One of the barmaids took the seat opposite Vergil at his table. Her green complexion, as well as visible scales outlining her cleavage, gave away her mixed heritage. Gorgons—whether full-blooded or mixed were rare in this region. Making her a valuable prospect for the elf running the tavern.

Seductively, she traced her full lips with a forked tongue, “Never seen y’all round here, doll.” Based on her accident, the half-gorgon grew up in the rural areas just north of the cities. “Care to tell me bout yerself?” While still revealing, he noticed the gorgon’s dress was more modest than the others. But what truly caught his eye was her necklace. A golden eye with a violet pupil. “Must be lonely,” she placed a clawed finger under his chin. “Waiting here all alone,” she pushed his eyes to meet hers.

, “Not much to tell,” Vergil sipped the fresh tankard. Regretting it from the first, burning sip. A single swallow was all it took. She’d brought him the strong ale. Thanks partially to his previous drinks—mostly from his low tolerance, he began to grow lightheaded. Vision doubled as heat rose in his cheeks. He pushed his spectacles out of the way. Gently rubbing the corners of his eyes. Even after trying to clear his vision, Vergil found everything hazed now. Actually, rubbing his eyes had only seemed to make things worse.

“Y’all don’t look the type to hang round here neither,” the gorgon laughed. The natural hiss that accented her speech gave a disingenuous tone. “So really, why’s a scholarly fella like you mopin’ here?”

“I’ve asked myself that for the last hour,” Vergil found himself swallowing instinctively. His body trying to hold back any potential bile. Even he was unsure if anything would rise from his throat. Better safe than sorry.

“Is this seat taken?” a familiar voice broke into their conversation. He’d recognize that shaggy, half-shaved mess of raven hair anywhere. Or those piercing lilac eyes. Eve had finally managed to find her way to the tavern. Based on the blush against her ashen skin, she had managed to grab a few drinks before finding Vergil.

“Not at all,” hissed the barmaid. It was difficult—especially in Vergil’s current state—to tell if that was a sign of anger or just a natural response. Either way, he was glad to be rid of her.

Took long enough, Vergil managed his thoughts. Unable to keep his mind much clearer than that. “Well?” he waved her to take her seat. Once Eve was comfortably positioned, Vergil leaned over. Tryin his best to speak in a whisper. Though his inebriated state made judging his volume a task all its own, “Why did we have to meet here?”

“No hello?” Eve asked. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.” Her mocking tone was not lost on the drunk. When he said nothing in return, Eve relented, “I’ve found it.”

Vergil’s eyes nearly popped from his skull. Fogs of ale lifted from his mind. If he weren’t sure it would cost his life, he could have kissed Eve then and there, “You mean, the search is over?”

“That is what it tends to mean when someone finds something.” Eve dismissively looked at her nails. Only the faintest fraction of a smile upon her ebony lips. Over the last six years, Eve had been on the hunt for Vergil. Unlike him, Eve had connections to the underworld. Both figuratively and literally. How she garnered the help of demons eluded Vergil. Not one to ask unnecessary questions, Vergil ignored the implications. No matter how much he shouldn’t. “Now,” she gave a wide, toothy grin. Serrated fangs bared, “The matter of your payment.” The air around the two grew colder. Vergil’s breath now misted before him.

“Not yet,” he reminded her. “You were hired to get it into my possession. Finding it does not earn your payment.” When he’d first made the contract with her, he was sure to word the deal as specifically as possible. Not wanting there to be a way out for either of them. Once he had his prize, no payment would be too great.

“Then it’s settled,” Eve rose from the table. “I’ll take you to the weapon.” ‘Weapon’, that had been how history saw his prize. Vergil knew better than that. But if he revealed the true nature of his ambitions there was the chance of betrayal. Eve had no use for weapons. Her powers were great enough as they were.

“Let’s,” Vergil went to stand. His head spun at the sudden movement. Collapsing him to the floor, retching uncontrollably. He cursed his weak constitution before fading from consciousness.

A cold rag pressed against his forehead as he awoke. If death felt anything like he did now, he could see why people avoided it. Through blurred vision, Vergil realized it was Eve nursing him. What looked like concern turned into an indifferent pout when she caught his eye. He never would have taken her as someone willing to help others. Even if he did have a contract. Perhaps there was some humanity buried deep within Eve’s heart.

“Remind me not to drink again,” Vergil said. Slowly sitting up, holding the rag in place. Enjoying the refreshing touch upon his skin. Heat flared through the rest of his body. There was more to his condition than a simple hangover. “What happened?” he laid back down.

“Poison,” Eve answered bluntly. “Turns out, that gorgon was more than a pretty face.” Gorgons weren’t able to produce poison, which meant she had to have gone out of her way to sneak it into his drink. Unless the barmaid was a sick and twisted person, that could only mean one thing. Someone wanted Vergil dead. It was almost enough to make him laugh. Instead, he only questioned why. As far as he knew there was no reason for his life to be in danger. He was no noble, no criminal wanted by the law. And Vergil had made sure to avoid leaving any debts behind. Whether with criminals or law-abiding citizens.

“Someone tried to take my prize,” Eve let out a sound almost like a hiss herself. “I took care of our little pest.” That could only mean one thing. The gorgon was dead.

Vergil closed his eyes with a tch. “Guess we won’t find out why she tried to kill me.”

“Is that important?” Eve’s nonchalant attitude was what made her trouble. “I imagined you would be glad your life is safe.”

“Safe?” Vergil laughed. “No, not yet. Whoever sent that assassin will send another. A more skilled one.” With no one to report back about his death, it was safe to assume they would know he survived. There wasn’t much they could do about that part. Not much to do about anything. Vergil’s body was still weak from the attempt on his life. It would be some time before he would be well enough to leave the Carast.

“Can I request your help?” he turned towards Eve.

“You want me to find the one responsible,” she answered. One step ahead of her client.

“Will you?” The smile she wore was answer enough. She had already begun her search. With her ‘assets’ at hand Eve could both care for Vergil and search for answers. Hopefully, her demons could go undetected.

A week passed without any leads. As well as no attempts at his life. Each day, Vergil would have Eve confirm the status of her finding. Making sure no one had stolen it from under them. Her demons kept watch over the object. Guarding it diligently for Vergil’s sake. If it were possible for her demons to take hold of the relic, he’d have gotten it by now. Much to Eve’s annoyance.

With the time that had passed, Vergil made a full recovery. Strength enough not only to walk but to fight back should he get attacked.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“Shall we finish our deal?” Eve pressed the subject. Ever impatient. Vergil couldn’t blame her. She was close to obtaining what her heart desired. Much as he was. That only made him relish the wait. Savoring each moment spent before embarking. A mirror to his companion.

“And you’re certain it remains where you found it?” he asked. Knowing there was no reason to.

“By the Embers of Purgaros, yes,” she spat. “I tire of your games. We have a deal, and I have all but fulfilled my end.”

“Of one deal,” Vergil reminded her.

“The second deal is moot,” she countered. “It was a request I had begun before you asked. Therefore, not binding me to it. There was no contract.” She was right. But nothing was stopping him from continuing the search on his own.

Sunlight spilled over Vergil for the first time since he was poisoned. He took a deep breath. Basking in the glory of it all. The ground still wet from the previous night’s storm. The air heavy with humidity. He hated it but still found a way to enjoy it. Eve followed close behind. The first thing he did was head for the Bloody Dagger. During the day, the usual crowd was gone. Succubi barmaids replaced with women from the village. There was no use in wasting their time when there was no one to attract to the bar.

Vergil caught the bartender's gaze. The elf wiping down glasses, getting everything prepared for the rush that came with sunset. “Can I help you?” the elf sneered.

“Possibly,” Vergil planted himself at the bar. Eve stood behind him like a shadow. “One of your barmaids poisoned me a week back.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“I am, too. She seemed nice. Brought me a drink I hadn’t ordered. Young gorgon, well half gorgon. You know what the other half was.” It hadn’t been clear at first. But the moment Vergil mentioned the fact it had been a gorgon he watched the elf’s mask slip. He knows something. But he pretended not to notice the brief attitude change, “How long had she been in your employ?”

“A few days,” the elf said. Not once taking his attention from cleaning. “Disappeared about a week back.” His glare, cold as steel, aimed towards Eve. He held his gaze for only a moment. Returning to his task, “Never had a chance to pay her. Shame, would have kept her around. Not often do you find a gorgon willing to do menial work.”

“Where did you find her?” Vergil stretched. “Maybe she went home. I’d like to have a talk with her, if possible.”

“Don’t know,” the elf shrugged. “She came to me.” The two talked a bit longer. Nothing of use came of it. But the trip was far from wasted. Vergil was able to set the record straight with Eve. They weren’t to leave until answers were found. Meaning he would never collect the relic, and she would never get her payment.

“You love to make me suffer,” Eve huffed. The two now walked the market square. Crowds gathered around traveling merchants. Fresh fruit and dried meats lined the usual stalls. At the heart of the market stood a fountain. From which wine flowed rather than water. Guards posted to prevent children from sneaking a sip.

“Come now,” Vergil laughed. Paying a man for an apple as large as a chicken’s breast. Juices leaked from the corners of his mouth; bright red skin snapped and the meat crunched between his teeth. “You never know when I might get attacked again. Can’t have someone else take your payment.”

“Exactly!” Eve sounded exasperated. “Which means we should retrieve that thing, now.” Vergil continued to enjoy his snack. Eyes darting through the gathered crowds. Now that he knew his life was at stake, he paid an extra mind to every twitch. The most unsuspecting person could be his next assailant. “Does it matter who is after your life?”

Vergil tossed the apple’s core to the ground. Wiping his face clean on his sleeve, “It does. I care less about who wants me dead, and rather why.” Plus now you know how it feels, he kept to himself. It was her turn to wait for him.

“Maybe I should kill you myself,” Eve leaned over his shoulder. Lips less than an inch from his ear. The weight of her hand on his neck. There was no reason to fear her taking his life. Not so long as they had the contract. Killing him would void her claim on his soul. Eve pulled away. She held a hand before Vergil. Silently directing his gaze.

Following her directions, he caught sight of a figure hiding within an alley. Bow in hand; arrow nocked and drawn. Vergil dropped just in time to avoid a killing blow. This was his chance. Once more, his life was saved only thanks to Eve’s interference. Despite her annoyance at his desire to uncover the plot against him. A part of him began to wonder if she had grown fond of him throughout their partnership.

Together, they gave chase. Vergil’s assailant kept his lead. But not so much that his pursuers lost track. Not once did he try to retaliate against them. The time to attack would give Vergil or Eve the chance to take him down. So, the hired killer had no choice but to continue running. His unfamiliarity with the layout of the alleyways ended up costing the assailant his escape. Running himself into a dead end. His only way out was through Vergil and Eve.

Before he could make the choice to take one of them out, Eve snapped her fingers. From the shadows arose four demons. Each a twisted imitation of man fused with wild beasts.

“Please,” he croaked. Dropping to his knees; bow fallen to the wayside. “Please, forgive me.”

Vergil pushed past the demons. Walking up to the man who tried to take his life. No fear, “Who sent you after me? And why?”

“I don’t know,” the man answered. Voice shook, his body trembled. “I only received the orders.” He reached into his pocket. Producing a letter. Vergil snatched it from between the man’s fingers. “I was desperate.” He’d given up the answers too easily. Vergil didn’t trust this man. Still, he read the letter. It was as he’d said. No indication as to why, just orders to take Vergil’s life. The penmanship was a basic scrawl. No distinct pattern or shape to the way they wrote.

Eve ordered her demons to confront the man. They pulled him to his feet; slamming him against the wall. Sunlight glinted off something he wore around his neck. Catching Vergil’s gaze. The same necklace worn by the gorgon.

Vergil reached for the necklace. A single motion ripped it free of their prisoner. “What is this symbol?” he asked. Fear had stolen the would-be assassin’s voice. “Eve, drop him,” Vergil commanded. She made a sound of disapproval but relented. Once more, the man fell to the ground. Unable to keep himself steady for the time being. And once more, Vergil asked, “What is this symbol?”

The man swallowed, “The-The Eye of the Ever-Watcher.” With a title like that, it could only be religious.

“What is the Ever-Watcher?” Vergil turned towards Eve. In all his years, he’d never known anyone with a better understanding of religions and cults.

“I am unsure,” even she sounded surprised. “But we can make him speak.” One of her demons slammed a hooved foot into the man’s back. Forcing him to lie prone. An audible crunch caused Vergil to wince. Knowing the man would never walk again.

“That’s too far,” he reprimanded her. “You can’t just torture him.”

“He’ll talk,” Eve retorted. Excusing her actions solely on the fact they would produce results. “Won’t you?” she knelt before the man.

With tear-filled eyes, the man nodded, “Just, no more.” He told them everything about the Ever-Watcher. A god lost to time. His only role was to watch over the other deities. To keep a record of secrets, and to ensure nothing fell into the wrong hands. An order had been working in the shadows. Working diligently to uphold the Ever-Watcher’s judgments. He called it the Gazing Society. Eve perked up at the name. That seemed to be all she needed from the man. Her demon crushed the man’s skull. Seemingly enjoying the splatter of gore. That toothy grin of hers on full display.

That night, the two of them traversed catacombs beneath the city. Shadows danced down the tunnels. Searching every tunnel and reporting back. Circumventing any possibility of getting lost. Vergil had not spoken to her since their encounter with the assailant. Eve seemed uninterested in their current situation. Though he knew it wouldn’t be long before she gained interest.

They know, Vergil grit his teeth. That could be the only reason an attempt on his head was made. Somehow, they had discovered his hunt for the Sanguis Angelus. Do they know the true secret of that relic?

His gaze fixated on Eve. Vergil followed her at a distance. He’d only described to her the physical form of the Sanguis Angelus. Not wanting to alert her to his true intentions. Someone as tied to demons as herself would recognize the relic for what it truly was. So long as they could get through this encounter without its name being said. For, if she learned even he couldn’t predict what would happen next.

Eve’s shadows led the two to a dead end. Or so it first appeared. They slipped through a crack in the wall—one too thin to be perceived by the human eye. Taking on more physical forms, they pushed the wall apart. Revealing a chamber just beyond.

Rows of hooded figures turned at the sudden intrusion. Taking their attention from the priest at the far end of the room. An elderly man; skin ashen, the symbol of their order tattooed upon his face. He stood upon a stage large enough for one. A strange leather tome in hand.

“Welcome,” the priest laughed. “How may we help you?” Vergil scanned the room. No one seemed ready to attack him. Even as he began to approach the priest, none of the hooded figures made a move.

“I’ve had two attempts on my life,” Vergil held out the stolen necklace. “Both attempts done by someone wearing your symbol.” He tossed the necklace across the room. The metallic clank against stone reverberated through the room.

“We only do as our deity asks of us,” the priest stepped down from his stage. “But why would the Ever-Watcher target you?” His words more accusatory than questioning. “What might you have done to anger the gods?”

“I’ve done nothing,” Vergil spat.

“Nothing?” the priest asked. A wheezing laugh to his words. “You interrupt our congregation. Led here by a beast so foul. A demon’s consort.” Vergil swallowed as the priest listed off the things he’d done in his life. Every petty crime, to the few times he’d taken a life for survival. And then he got to that. “You seek the Sanguis Angelus.”

“What was that?” Eve spoke up. “Vergil seeks the Sanguis Angelus? Is this the relic you had me track down?”

Members of the crowd began to speak up, “The She-Witch knows of it? She’s been searching for it? Have they found it? We must stop them!” All at once, the dozens of figures drew weapons hidden beneath their robes. In response, Eve summoned a small army of demons by her side. Imps and goblins. Their size mattered little when their numbers greatly outclassed the order.

With the wave of his hand, the priest dismissed her demons. Even brought Eve to her knees. Rings of golden light bound her in place. “There will be no need.” He turned his attention to Vergil, “Do you know the power of such a relic?”

“I do,” Vergil answered.

“And you thought to find it?”

“I had to!”

“Well,” the priest curled his lips. “Why do you seek the Sanguis Angelus?”

Vergil took a deep breath. He looked over his shoulder. Gaze lingering on Eve, “It was the only way. The only way to ensure her death.”

“You dare to betray me?!” Eve roared. Struggling against her bindings. Unable to move from her spot. “You lowly filth!”

“I needed the Sanguis Angelus,” Vergil turned back to the priest. Tears in his eyes, “She killed him. She killed my brother.”