Page 50 of Virgil's Demons

My chest tightened, but I didn't hesitate. "I'll do whatever it takes."

She let out a slow, dark laugh. "I like dat fire in ya, Virgil. But listen ta me good. When ya deal wit' Death, it don't give nothin' back for free. If y'ain't prepared for what it's gon' take from ya, you better think twice 'fore we go any furthah."

I set my jaw, determined. "I'm ready."

There was a pause, and I could almost hear her smile on the other end of the line. "We gon' see 'bout dat, chère. I'll tell ya what ya need, but don't say I didn't warn ya. Ya ready?"

Both Spectre and I leaned closer to the phone, listening to Madame Laveaux's slow, deliberate words. Her voice, thick with that ancient Cajun drawl as she spoke.

"Virgil," she began, her tone steady but grave, "y'ain't gon' deal wit' Death 'til ya face dat demon first. It's two parts, a two-step dance. Da demon—it feeds off da ones ya love, da ones closest to ya. But ya gon have ta call it out, pull it from its hiding place."

I paced the room, the storm outside battering the windows of the clubhouse like a relentless drumbeat, matching my anxiety. My mind raced, and I knew where this was going. I just didn't want to hear it.

"How do I do that?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"The boy, Virgil," Laveaux said quietly, her voice carrying a deeper, almost mystical tone. "Hellsing,da boy, he special. He walks between da worlds of da livin' and da dead. He don't know it yet, but he's strong. Strong enough ta hold da demon, at least for a while. It's gon' hurt him, gon' break him in some ways, but he can handle it."

I stopped pacing, my heart hammering in my chest. "Hellsing? He's just a kid, Laveaux. You're asking me to put a demon inside him?"

"I ain't askin' ya to hurt da boy," she said sharply. "But dis demon, it's after da ones y'care for most, an' Hellsing—he's next. After Barythaya, it'll come for him, sooner or later. Da demon knows where ya heart lies."

I closed my eyes, my breath catching. Hellsing was like a son to me. He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve to be dragged into my world. But if what she said was true, then he was already a target.

"How do I transfer the demon into him?" I asked, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Ya gon' call it out," Laveaux explained. "Draw it outof its hiding place an' force it into Hellsing. Ya need ta use somethin' strong—somethin' dat'll make da demon cling ta him. A siren."

Spectre looked up at me. "The raven," he whispered.

"Dat Raven of yours will do. Tell her to hum her song. She don' good before wit' luring evil in. When it hears it, it'll latchonta da boy like a leech. But he's strong, Virgil. Strong 'nough ta walk between life an' death, even if he don't know it yet."

"And after that?" My voice was tight, the thought of putting Hellsing through that kind of suffering twisting my gut. "What do I do then?"

"Ya exorcize it," she said simply, as if it were a matter of fact. "Once da demon's in him, ya cast it out. It won't be easy, but it's da only way ta break its hold. Da boy will suffer, but he'll survive."

I took a deep breath, trying to process what she was telling me. This wasn't just about protecting Barythaya anymore. Now it was about Hellsing too. The demon wasn't going to stop until it destroyed everything I held dear.

"And after the demon's gone?" I asked, my voice low. "What about Barythaya?"

Laveaux was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her voice carrying a deeper sense of foreboding. "Death is inside her, Virgil. Not just some shadow or spirit—Death itself. It's seeped into her bones, her soul. But Death, it don't show itself like a demon. It hides, waits. It's a patient thing. We gon' need ta bind it, an' we gotta do it wit'out Death knowin'."

"Without Death knowing?" I repeated, the absurdity of it hanging in the air. "How the hell do we do that?"

"We disguise it," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "We make Death believe we're doin' somethin' else. A simple healin' ritual, somethin' small an' insignificant. While Death ain't payin' attention, we slip da binds round it, trap it inside Barythaya."

I could feel my throat tighten, the weight of what she was saying settling on me like a shroud. "And that'll work?"

"It's da only way," she replied. "But it comes wit' a price, Virgil. Nothin' in dis world or da next comes free, an' bindin' Death—dat gon' cost ya more than y'think."

"What price?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"To bind Death," Laveaux said slowly, her voice heavy with the gravity of it all, "y'gon have to give up a piece of y'self. A part of yer soul. But it ain't just any piece. It's da part dat's tied to her—tied to Barythaya. Y'll save her life, Virgil, but y'll lose da connection between ya. Y'll lose da love she's got for ya."

I froze, the full meaning of her words sinking in. "You mean..."

"She'll live," Laveaux said softly, "but da love y'share—it won't survive. Death gon' take it, leave y'two strangers. It's da price, an' it's steep. But if y'don't bind it, Death'll take her entirely."

I stood there, staring out at the rain as it lashed against the window, my heart pounding. How could I choose between saving her life and losing her love? How could I live in a world where Barythaya didn't know me, didn't feel what we had?

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