"But that's just an extra condition," Soren said after a beat, pushing for more.
Bayonetta didn't get angry. She actually laughed, a low, throaty sound that made the air feel warmer. "Greedy little thing. Aren't you worried about choking on it?"
She reached out with one white-gloved finger and tapped him lightly on the chest. "This whole mess involves your girlfriend Patty's safety. Aren't you even a little concerned she might get hurt again?"
"Even without you, I could clean them up myself," Soren answered, meeting her gaze without flinching. "It would just take longer. Since we're working together, I expect real sincerity."
Her smile deepened at his cocky tone. "Not just greedy. You've got quite the temper too."
With a flick of her wrist, a long sheathed blade appeared in her hand. She tossed it to him without ceremony.
"Heard your last weapon broke. Consider this my way of sweetening the deal."
She licked her red lips, eyes glittering with something dangerous and playful. "But fair warning—if you break this one, you're paying with your soul."
Soren caught the blade. The moment his fingers closed around the hilt, a cold, bloodthirsty hunger stirred in his chest. He drew it partway.
The blade was longer than Yamato, more like a nodachi, with a deep blood groove running down the center and a classic diamond-pattern grip ending in a tassel. Even half-drawn, the edge radiated a sharp, vicious aura that made his skin prickle.
He recognized it instantly.
Demon Sword Shura Blade.
The one that sealed the demon god Asura inside it.
Just holding the thing made his blood sing. With this, he could finally use every technique he'd stolen from the Yamato experience card—Swift Iaijutsu, Dimensional Slash, Void Blade Realm—plus the blade's own signature move: Iaijutsu – Vacuum Wave. A charged draw that unleashed a massive crescent-shaped slash of sword energy across the battlefield.
Jackpot.
The excitement lasted about three seconds before suspicion crept back in.
How long had this woman been watching him?
She knew about Patty's attack. She knew his sword had broken. She knew way too much.
He opened his mouth to ask, but Bayonetta was already done talking. Her body dissolved into a swirling flock of black crows that scattered into the night.
Soren let out a long breath and turned toward the corner where Constantine had been chain-smoking in silence the entire time.
"You two from the same world or something? How the hell do you know each other?"
Constantine took a slow drag, exhaled a perfect smoke ring, and gave him a flat look. "I was digging for information on that damn mark in the black market. She caught me."
He shot Soren a look that clearly said you're on your own now.
"That woman's more trouble than half the demons in Hell. If she's got her eye on you, your life's about to get a lot more complicated."
Soren glanced out the window and shook his head. He knew Bayonetta's personality from the games he'd played. As long as he didn't piss her off and played along with her twisted sense of fun, she was actually pretty easy to deal with.
He stored the Shura Blade away and headed for the door. He had what he came for.
By the time he got back to the office it was deep into the night. The place was quiet. Patty and Carrie were already asleep upstairs. Vergil still hadn't come back.
Soren didn't bother with the lights. He dropped onto the couch, pulled a blanket over himself, and opened his phone.
He started searching for information on red soil.
Bayonetta had given him four states: Louisiana, Illinois, Maine, and Virginia. He cross-referenced them with keywords like "serial disappearances," "bizarre murders," and "occult killings."
Louisiana had old voodoo cult rumors and a string of missing tourists in the swamps that search parties never found.
Illinois brought up Haddonfield again—nothing new there. He'd already dealt with Michael.
Maine, though… Maine kept popping up.
Besides the recent fog incident that had the whole country talking, there were older reports about animals coming back from the dead in Ludlow and, farther back, recurring waves of child disappearances in Derry every few decades.
Pennywise.
Soren's eyes narrowed.
The clown that lived in the sewers, fed on fear, and turned into whatever terrified its victims most. The one the Losers' Club had eventually driven off by facing their fears.
If the Heretic Coven was behind all these "experiments," then Pennywise was probably one of their creations too—a demon-human hybrid they'd cooked up and let loose.
He set the phone down and looked at the slip of paper Bayonetta had given him.
If he was going to play bait, he needed to hit the place with the highest concentration of their monsters and smash as many of their toys as possible until they came looking for him.
Louisiana was too messy—swamps, entrenched voodoo factions, local gangs. Too easy to get bogged down in endless fights.
Illinois was already burned. Haddonfield was done.
Maine, on the other hand, was perfect.
Military fog experiments, resurrection rumors, a literal child-eating clown, and who knew what else they had cooking up there. It was clearly one of their major testing grounds.
Soren folded the paper and stared at the ceiling.
Maine it was.
Time to go hunting.