Devil May Cry: Volume 2

Prologue

The bombastic argument on the other side of the door shook the dust from the ancient volumes racked dutifully in the library. Battling voices drew nearer as black feet appeared at the bar of light beneath the door.

Stop! You don't have permission to go in there!" The first voice had the hollow wheeze of an elderly man. It contrasted sharply with the vibrant tones of the young woman who pushed the door open.

"I have permission to go anywhere," the woman said, waving a permit in the old man's face. "They didn't tell me anything was off limits. Besides, can't you feel something in here? I felt it in the hall. This place has a weird vibe." The woman brushed a curly strand of red hair aside and pointed at a thick wooden door on the other side of the library. Multiple locks braided the portal, each adorned with charms and incantations. "Whatever it is, it's coming from there. We can't just sit around and wait for something to happen."

"Miss Beryl!" the old man sputtered. Judging by his wardrobe, he was clearly under the impression that high priests were supposed to look like storybook wizards, although she reckoned he couldn't quite pull off the flowing beard. It took him a while to crank out a sentence due to the "whispery wizard" voice he employed.

Beryl wasn't impressed.

"Not a single trespasser has entered this vault in more than two thousand years," the old man continued breathily. "Your reputation precedes you, Miss Beryl. We don't doubt your skills or intuition, but observe." The priest reached out and stroked one of the charms. A small tuft of smoke crackled into existence at the point of contact, and he quickly withdrew his hand.

"The more wicked the person who touches these charms, the stronger the reaction," he explained, sucking on his fingers. "So you can imagine what would happen if a demon messed with one of these locks. Perhaps your fears are groundless. Just this once." He added hastily.

"Fears? Groundless? You really don't get it, do you? The demons I've fought were careful and cunning. They could get around these charms with their eyes closed!" Beryl's eyes widened as she unleashed the tirade.

The old man was appalled. "You meant these charms?" But Beryl's attentions were elsewhere. She unconsciously fingered her collarbone, tracing along an old scar. The wound pulsed with heat, a sensation that only occurred when she was near the object of her search.

Suddenly her instincts kicked in and she shoved the old man aside. Almost simultaneously, Beryl whipped a huge anti-tank rifle from its cradle on her back.

The high priest found this beyond the pale. "What are you doing? I'm a priest! You can't use violence on a priest!"

"If you want to live, shut up and hide!" she hissed. Beryl gripped the rifle in both hands and swung it around to cover the door. The old man considered his options and galloped out of the library as quickly as he could.

"I'm ready for you. Come on out!" Beryl unleashed a volley at the enchanted portal with a roar. But the silver bullets arced away from their target at the last moment, their trajectories tweaked by a mysterious force. The tiny missiles clattered uselessly to the stone floor. Beryl had been expecting something like that. She fired another three shots at the door. This time they embedded themselves in the wood.

"Orrruuuuuunnn." An uncanny voice howled from behind the door, which swelled as if sucking in a lungful of air.

The movement popped the charms from their moorings. Suddenly, the wood shattered. The scar on Beryl's collarbone grew hotter.

"Come on out, demon! I know you're there!" Beryl squeezed off a few rounds into the dark hole where the door used to be. The rifle's report echoed from the library's flagstone walls. Beryl swung the barrel around, looking for a target. Her chest heaved anxiously.

Where are you? Adrenaline washed over her, intensifying the heat in her collarbone. Beryl felt her fighting spirit burn stronger. Heat. Burn. Suddenly, Beryl flung herself toward the side of the room, rolling into a combat stance.

A giant flower of fire bloomed where she had been standing. The rolling flames grew into a white-hot column, linking the floor and ceiling with eldritch energy. It was somehow more than fire— a hellfire from the demon world, the work of magic.

Beryl smiled. It was exactly the move she would have made if she were a demon looking for an opening gambit.

"Orrruuuuuunnn." The blistering stench of decay accompanied the demonic howl. The atmosphere condensed, thick with a soul-crushing something that sought to etch despair into human minds.

Beryl willed herself to ignore the mounting fear and caught a lucky break.

"There you are!" She leveled her rifle and shot two more rounds. Silver bullets ripped through the darkness and punched through the black demonic shape she'd spied out of the corner of her eyes.

"Orrruuu-!" The roar broke off suddenly, replaced by the thunderous clatter of shaking flagstones. The library heaved violently. Beryl wobbled in place uncertainly. The exaggerated vibrations made it hard to think coherently.

An unexpected yelp escaped from her lips. She had no place to run. Beryl clinched her jaw and fell to one knee. The rumbling shook a rain of dust from the rafters, but she managed to catch sight of a dark shape slithering through the rubble. It was close enough to hit with her eyes closed. Beryl brought her rifle to bear and waited for the right moment.

"Orrruuuuuunnn!" The howl tore through the air once more as a tarry mass emerged from the cloud of dust.

"Not today, chief." Beryl unloosed a volley at the beast. An inhuman scream rang out in pain. The shadow was bigger than any man, rolling with malevolent fury. Beryl adjusted her stance and noticed that she had shot off the demon's wings. The creature regarded her dryly and let out a foul laugh. Its back bubbled with wet flesh, which grew into replacement wings. It had regenerated almost instantaneously.

And then Beryl realized that she was alone. The demon had slunk back into the depths of the earth; the violent tremors must have been the carving of a tunnel. The woman leaned on her depleted rifle. She could do nothing else but gawp awkwardly.

Beryl let her rifle clatter to the ground and surveyed her surroundings. Not only had the library been utterly destroyed, but so had the temple itself. She couldn't see a single living soul. The wizened priest was either fleet of foot or dead beneath the rubble.

"Looks like you got away again." she muttered. The old scars no longer burned or ached, but failure made her heart heavy.

She found herself crying. But it wasn't the end.

It was just the beginning.