My Wives are Beautiful Demons

A few days had passed since the fateful encounter with Azazel and the pact that now marked him as a Hunter of Fallen Angels.

Vergil, however, pressed forward as he always did, guided by his own ambitions. After all, he had desires of his own. His elegant silhouette moved through the shadows of a narrow alley in a secluded part of New York, his boots echoing softly on the damp pavement.

It was nighttime, and the glow of neon lights reflected in the puddles around him, partially illuminating the path to his destination.

Vergil stopped in front of an unassuming iron door, marked only by a small symbol engraved on its surface: a circle intertwined with arcane runes.

"Just as my dear one said…" he murmured with a smirk, "Always so dramatic."

He ran his fingers over the magical scar concealing the entrance, and the door creaked open with a deep metallic groan. Descending a narrow staircase, he plunged into a world few humans could even dream existed.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

But where exactly was Vergil heading?

The Bar Without a Name was a place that defied any mundane description.

Its interior was vast, an enchanted space that felt far larger than it should. Walls lined with trophies from supernatural battles and artifacts from countless eras shared space with murals depicting mythical creatures and forgotten legends. The music in the background was soft but carried an unsettling melody, like a siren's song.

"Okay… this is a lot different from what I expected," Vergil muttered.

Demons, vampires, werewolves, witches, and even some creatures he couldn't immediately recognize filled the space. They all had one thing in common: they were part of the supernatural. And even though the atmosphere seemed relaxed, there was an undeniable tension in the air. One wrong word could easily turn the place into a battlefield.

Vergil walked calmly through the room, ignoring the suspicious glances that followed him. He was clearly an outsider, fresh blood, but his aura of power discouraged any confrontations.

He approached the bar, where an old troll with a braided beard and tired eyes was cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. "New around here," the troll said, his gravelly voice nonchalant.

"I'm not here to socialize," Vergil replied coldly. He slid a few ancient coins across the counter. "I'm looking for a witch."

The troll raised a bushy eyebrow, picking up the coins and examining them closely. "Plenty of those here. Any particular one?"

"You know who I mean," Vergil said, leaning slightly closer. "The one everyone avoids."

The troll hesitated, his gaze flickering toward a dark corner of the bar. "You're either brave, kid… or stupid." He gestured with his head. "She's over there. Good luck."

Following the troll's gaze, Vergil spotted a figure sitting alone at a table. The woman had long black hair that seemed to absorb the light around her, eyes that glowed a vivid crimson, and a sharp smile that hinted at knowledge far beyond the ordinary. Her fingers danced above a glass of wine, a small whirlpool of magic spinning within it, reflecting an entire constellation.

Vergil approached her slowly, pulling out a chair without asking for permission and sitting across from her. "You're the witch they say knows everything," he began, his voice direct and cutting.

She lazily looked up at him, her smile widening like that of a predator spotting its prey. "Knows everything? Don't underestimate me. I know far more than everything." She laughed softly, tilting her head. "And you… you're interesting, Lucifer."

Vergil narrowed his eyes. "So, you know who I am and claim not to know everything. That makes this easier. I need something."

"Ah, you need my help? And what makes you think I should help you?" she teased, crossing her legs and propping her chin on her hand, clearly amused.

"Because you're a mercenary, like everyone else here. Who I am doesn't matter—only what I can offer." He placed a black card on the center of the table, but the witch didn't even glance at it.

"Oh, he came prepared," she joked, picking up the card... and reading it. "Agares," she said aloud. "So, the rumors were true, huh..." she murmured.

The witch twirled the card between her fingers, her crimson eyes glinting with curiosity and mischief. "Tell me, how can I help?" she asked with a sly smile.

"I want you to erase my existence completely. All records of my life before becoming a demon." He grinned.

The witch rested her hand on her chin, smiling. "Quite the request... and you think a few dollars will cover it?" she teased.

"Well, I expected as much," Vergil quipped back, rising to his feet. "Seems we won't reach an agreement." As he spoke, he summoned his demonic energy to pull the card back from her hand. "Viviane will be disappointed to hear her friend is so... stingy," Vergil said, turning to leave—though, of course...

"Wait..." she murmured, "You should've led with the fact that Viviane is with you, you idiot." She huffed, crossing her arms.

"Oh, so now you're willing to help, Morgana LeFay?"

Morgana froze momentarily upon hearing her full name, her mischievous smile vanishing and replaced by a serious, slightly irritated expression. "You have the audacity to come here, call me by name, and provoke me?" Her voice carried a dangerous tension, but also genuine interest.

Vergil slowly turned back, a faint smile curling his lips. "It's not provocation—just efficiency. You like being remembered for who you are, don't you? The legendary Morgana LeFay, the immortal witch, feared and revered, always teetering between power and chaos."

She scoffed, crossing her legs and eyeing him from head to toe. "You know nothing about me, boy. But since you've brought Viviane into this, that changes things. Why is the Lady of the Lake with a Lucifer, anyway? Seems I've missed a few chapters."

Vergil shrugged, walking back to the table and placing his hands in his coat pockets. "Viviane is... my dear employee," Vergil admitted with a grin.

Morgana narrowed her glowing eyes, a mixture of irritation and fascination gleaming as she studied Vergil. "You seriously expect me to believe that my aunt, Viviane—the legendary Lady of the Lake, the forger of Excalibur and Ex-Calibur—is... working for you?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm, though there was a flicker of genuine disbelief.

Vergil replied with a faint smirk and a small chuckle, more provoking than humorous. "Pfft... I get it. It sounds surreal. Took me some time to adjust too. But trust me, Sapphire likes to surround herself with efficient allies. And, well, Viviane was... assigned to me."

His casual tone acted as fuel for Morgana's irritation, her gaze now sharp enough to cut steel. She didn't respond immediately, but the silence itself felt accusatory.

Vergil noticed and raised an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. "If you'd like confirmation, come with me. We can settle this right now." His voice was calm, though the invitation sounded like a challenge.

Morgana hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing her options, but before she could respond, a third voice cut through the tension in the air.

"She's not going anywhere with you, demon."

Vergil felt a presence behind him, heavy and hot breath on his back. Slowly, he turned to see an imposing werewolf, his eyes glowing with primal fury. The creature stood a few steps away, his muscles tense, as though ready to pounce at any moment.

Vergil felt a presence behind him—a heavy, hot breath—and turned slowly to find an imposing werewolf, his eyes glowing with primal rage. The wolf stood only a few steps away, his muscles tense as if ready to strike at any moment.

Vergil stared at him for a moment, expressionless, before glancing sideways at Morgana. "A friend of yours?"

She crossed her arms, her lips curving into a disdainful smile. "Just another annoyance."

Vergil sighed softly, tilting his head slightly as he looked back at the werewolf. "Understood."

The werewolf growled, baring his teeth. "Leave now, or I'll tear you apart."

Vergil tilted his head further, as if assessing the threat. "Interesting. It seems you don't understand who you're dealing with."

Morgana's smile grew faintly, almost satisfied, but she remained silent, apparently curious to see how Vergil would handle the situation.