Eighth Circle

A/N: No naughty bits in this chapter, I'm afraid.

 

Five days earlier...

There was a faint aroma of pizza in the air, as there usually was.

“…The Order of the Purple Axe extends this offer of friendship and sisterhood to all women, everywhere. In our society you will form bonds of fellowship stronger than any you have ever…oh, what a crock,” Dante scrunched the flier into a ball and lazily tossed it over his shoulder. Trish, looking unusually stern, snatched it out of the air and unfolded it again, smoothing it out on the desk.

An argument started, something about leads and evidence and the lack of evidence. Dante shot Trish down every way he could, with as much flippancy as he could muster, but she kept trying, bless her. Usually Lady would be in the thick of it, trying to coax Dante into a job with some flimsy, usually unfulfilled promise of financial reward. However, on this occasion she didn’t want to involve herself. Trish’s proposition had rubbed her the wrong way.

There was a cult; the Order of the Purple Axe, which, she alleged, was run by demons who got their kicks by luring young girls into their ranks, feeding off of their energy until all vigor and life was gone from them, and selling their husks to human traffickers. “Look, the whole thing’s regrettable, Trish, but unless you can prove to me that Demons are involved somehow, there isn’t a lot I can do. Besides, I don’t really think I’m cut out for detective work.” Dante looked as relaxed and disinterested as ever. He had assumed that familiar pose, his feet resting on his desk and his head resting in his hands, leaning back on his chair. This seemed to make Trish genuinely angry. She pushed over Dante’s chair, sending him tumbling to the ground. He either thought he deserved it on some level or simply couldn’t be bothered to avoid it. He jumped back up and dusted himself off. “You’re a real people person,” he said, resigned.

“Lady!” he called. “You’ve been awfully quiet. This is the kind of junk you usually involve yourself in, what do you think?” As Lady prepared to break her silence, Dante spoke again, interrupting her. “Wait, Trish. You said ‘Purple Axe’?”

“Honestly, Dante, sometimes I think if you paid more attention we’d get a lot more-“

“Hold that thought,” Dante hushed her with a smile, and strode over to his weapon wall. He sheathed his sword and holstered his pistols, and made for the front door.

Trish moved to block him. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Dante grinned, and gently nudged her out of the way. “I got a hunch, and a hankering for pizza. So!” he pointed towards the two of them. “I’m going to let you ladies handle this investigation for now. Don’t have too much fun without me, temper always your strength with wisdom, etcetera, yadda yadda yadda,” and with that, the devil hunter was gone.

Trish groaned and shook her head. She turned to face Lady. “You’ve got my back on this, right?”

Lady eyed her carefully. She and Trish had never been the best of friends, though of course they were hardly enemies. Dante was the common element that bound them together, and they had never taken much time to get to know each other besides. They liked each other well enough, but there seemed to be some mutual, unspoken agreement between them that they shouldn’t interact too much without Dante. It was sad, Lady decided, but probably necessary on some level. “I’m game,” Lady said, with a smile. “Should I expect to get paid?”

Trish folded her arms and rolled her eyes. “It’s always about the money with you, isn’t it?” She thought for a few moments, tapping her chin, and then her eyes lit up. “I’ll think of something.” Lady did not like it when a demon’s eyes lit up, nor did she particularly enjoy the wink that followed. But, ever dutiful, Lady swallowed her misgivings and soldiered on. “It’s a big city,” Trish said to her as they left Devil May Cry. “Someone’s bound to know something.”