Devil May Care

.9. Devil May Care .9.

The painkillers didn't ease the pain as much as I hoped; though, enough that I wasn't wincing every other step. I would have to visit one of the Osirian physicians soon. Damn. It was still rather cloudy, although, now and then there would be moments of sunshine. I bound my torso in linen bandages for the time being – the most I could do with what very little Osirian medical 'training' I had.

"You should at least get that looked at," Dante had been trying to convince me to go to the hospital for about an hour.

"I will. Just not a regular doctor."

"What do you mean by that?" *Sigh*

"Nothing," I muttered, "I just... know a specialist."

"You rich kids are so picky," he sighed. I couldn't really argue with him – he wouldn't understand...

Bennu landed in the open window, a letter grasped in his beak. I held out my hand and whistled softly, Bennu flew over to drop the envelope in my open hand. He nestled down in my lap. I quickly glanced over the letter: Imhotep had agreed to see me in this dimension, thankfully – meaning I wouldn't have to go travelling through time/space.

"Good boy, Bennu," I smiled, petting his head. He chirped happily. I slowly rose to my feet.

"Where are you off to?" Dante went from lying down to sitting up, on the couch opposite, as he watched me struggle to the front door.

"I've got an appointment..." I explained, waving the letter from Imhotep. He got up, walking over to me, and took the letter to look at it.

"What language is this supposed to be?" The letter was written in hieratic – a version of shorthand hieroglyphs.

"Egyptian shorthand. It's a form of Arabic," I lied – not that Dante would know the difference.

"Right, right. Of course." He handed it back to me. I hadn't hidden the fact that I was born in Egypt, so it seemed natural that I knew everything and anything there was to know about the 'black land'.

Imhotep had rented a private office space for the time being.

"How bad is it?" I asked as he examined the holographic display of various scan results (like x-rays though, being Osirian, were far more advanced).

"Not as bad as it could have gotten. Your hip is completely shattered," he paused. Closely examining the hologram, Imhotep focused on the spine. "You've dislodged some vertebrae, but that will on its own. As will your ribs..."

"Imhotep?"

"Yes, cousin?"

"What is bothering you?"

"Bothering me?" Imhotep had been mortal, millennia ago, but had been 'reborn' as an Osirian after his mortal body passed. We were similar in that respect, which made us particularly close. "Why do you ask?" He turned to me.

"I could just tell..."

"That is a conversation for another time. Here," getting back to business, Imhotep passed me a small glass vial filled with a dark liquid. "That will repair your hip." I leaned back, draining the liquid in one sip – choking on the sheer bitterness of it.

"That's just vile!" If I could taste it then it was really bad! My sense of taste had been greatly degraded from millennia of battles...

"How is your on-hand medication?"

"I'm starting to run out." The Osirian painkillers were made of opium – which doesn't have the same effects on us as it does on human beings. I couldn't just go to a local pharmacy and purchase any old medication – it had to be Osirian-made.

"I'll get Heka to prepare some more for you at a later date and send Bennu with them." Imhotep always was very serious about his position, even back when he was trapped in a mortal form.

"I should get back. Thank you, Imhotep..." I went to leave, but Imhotep caught my shoulder.

"Wait, cousin," he paused for a second before he continued, "I should not be telling you this, but... Grandfather seemed to be upset with you..."

"Upset? How so?" There was a long pause.

"It is not my place to say, but prepare yourself." With that, Imhotep dismissed me.

"I wonder what Imhotep meant by that. What do you think, Bennu?" Bennu was perched on my shoulder. He whistled and shrugged. I certainly don't recall doing anything that would offend any of my kin. Especially Ra! It was late afternoon and the streets were strangely quiet. Bennu looked behind us and screeched, seemingly flustered. Turning to see what had disturbed my bird; my eyes fell upon the woman behind us. Even with dark sunglasses on, she was unmistakable! "Trish?" Bennu frantically flapped his wings and squawked – he didn't like Trish either. "What are you doing here?"

"There was something I need to talk to you about."

"Oh?"

"Not here," she walked on ahead, with a quick beckon to follow. After a moment of hesitation, I obliged. We ended up in a quiet little market square. Trish took a seat outside a café, so I sat opposite her; from her pocket, she pulled out a photograph, and handed it to me.

"What is this?" I glanced down at it.

"No mind-tricks or funny business: I need you to be honest with me..." She paused. Oh. She did, now. Did she?

"Go on."

"Do you know that man?" I looked back down at the photo – it was of Apep's human form! Despite my surprise, I kept myself composed.

"So what if I do?"

"He's been saying things about you..."

" 'Things' along the lines of 'she's not who she says she is'?" I replied promptly – that made her raise an eyebrow.

"So, you do know him?"

"He's wanted me dead for as long as I can remember," I said in a nonchalant manner. A brief expression of surprise danced across Trish's face.

"Was that all you wanted?" I went to get up and leave, but she grabbed hold of my wrist and stopped me. "What?"

"Just tread carefully from now on."

"Like you give a damn about what I do or what happens to me," I huffed, snatching my hand back from her grasp and strode off. Bennu, who was still perched on my shoulder, shrieked; irritated. "I know, Bennu," I muttered in Osirian, "she shouldn't have gotten herself involved in our business. What can you do?" He chirped a reply. "I could have put her in her place, but don't you think I would have revealed my true nature if I had?" My bird fell silent. "My sentiments exactly." It was starting to get late. "We should hurry home before the Sun sets. Fly ahead, Bennu." He took to the air – the movement of his body, and the colour of his plumage, giving the illusion that he was engulfed in flame.

It had grown completely dark by the time I got back to Devil May Cry. Dante was leaning against his desk, arms crossed and looking rather displeased.

"What's that look for?" There was a long silence before he answered.

"Nothing," when he finally replied, his whole demeanour – even his tone of voice was that of annoyance, perhaps even ... anger?

"So... you're not going to tell me what is wrong?"

"Why does anything have to be wrong?" he tried to act normally, but I wasn't so easily fooled. There was a pause. "Don't go worrying yourself over it."

"I'm supposed to be the one who says that sort of thing. Anyways; what implies to you that I was worrying?" Dante sighed, defeated by my remark.