Disclaimer: Huntik Secrets & Seekers belongs to Iginio Straffi. And isn't that just fantastic. -_-

Seekers, Zhalia realized, were far different than the average person.

Although many people within the Foundation claimed to hold normal lives, it only took one actual normal person to see their blatant lie amidst a bundle of titans and magical ancient artifacts. Not that there was anything wrong with being a seeker, mind you. But really, Zhalia curled her lip at the books and trinkets littered around Dante's living room. Lok's head was covered by an old Victorian hat while Sophie sat pleasantly beside a tower of Babylonian parchment. She raised her eyebrow in mild distaste. How much history does a person really need to know?

Zhalia may be a seeker for the Huntik Foundation now. A couple of years ago, though, her involvement with the Organization honed her skills for espionage and target termination. Having the ability to execute hostiles proved vital and presented Zhalia with many useful allies and even more useful tactics, some of which were never seen by anyone in her team.

That is, until now.

1. Snowflake

No, really. Her name was indeed, Snowflake.

Currently, Dante was leading the Huntik team on a mission to Lake Como, approximately sixty miles away from the Swiss Alps and harboring one of the most lethal titans in all of Europe. Unfortunately, for all their combined knowledge of foreign diplomacy, no one held access to the underground roads of the neighboring Swiss districts.

Cue Zhalia's Finnish informant.

It was almost impossible not to stare at her large breasts bouncing through her see-through blouse, a pierced nipple protruding from under her flimsy jacket and catching the eye of the orphan brothers. Although Harrison was fighting hard to look above the woman's head, Den's mouth hung open in the most obvious way imaginable. Snowflake, however, pay them no mind. Her entire attention hung on Zhalia.

"Oh, Älskling!" Her fragile arms snaked themselves around Zhalia's slightly smaller frame. "It has been so long since you last sought," her arm delved slowly down her chest then rose back up to circle her shoulder. "My services."

On the opposite side of the table, Dante cleared his throat in a sign of irritation. Zhalia had previously notified them of her informant from her past as an Organization agent. She had assured them that this informant frequently passed by the neighboring districts almost daily and retained a large range of gossip from the leaders of the underground crime groups. She conveniently failed to mention, however, that the informant wasn't so much an informant as she was a prostitute. A prostitute with an unhealthy obsession for Zhalia. Then again, that would explain everything. Loose mouth, loose tongue, loose…everything.

"Can you get us past the Vintergröna Gate, yes or no?" Despite the clear frustration in Zhalia's voice, she made absolutely no attempt to remove herself from Snowflake's wondering hands. Dante was left speechless as the Finnish woman slid herself over Zhalia's lap, one of her fingers twisting around Zhalia's jet black hair. If anything, seeing Dante's growing unpleasantness made Snowflake curl herself closer to Zhalia. She sent Dante a devious smirk as her lips planted themselves on the corner of Zhalia's mouth before giving a mischievous lick. Dante gaped.

"My sötis. For you? Anything."

2. M82a1 / M107 Barrett 50 Caliber: optimal sniping position, excess of 800 meters. Note: avoid low ground.

"The key is patience. You have to find the highest position to get the best view and wait." Zhalia was teaching (read: trying to teach) Lok how to project his bolt of Touchram from a higher distance. To their dismay, this was easier said than done. "Try it again."

Lok took a deep breath, extended his right arm and shouted, "Touchram!" The burst of magic went straight for approximately 200 meters before it deviated and struck a nearby branch. The wood splintered in tiny pieces as the remaining tree limped and rolled to a pathetic stop, the green glow all but gone. Almost a quarter mile from their actual target, Lok took one last look and sucked his teeth in annoyance. "You can't shoot anything from this distance, it's impossible! I give up!"

"Hm." Zhalia narrowed her eyes at the scene in front of her then turned on her heel and marched towards the Huntik safehouse. About two minutes later, she returned, a strange sort of gun slung carefully over her shoulder. As she stood beside the young blond seeker, she brought the gun forward, cocked the magazine, kneeled flat on the ground and squinted one eye as she peered behind the scope. Exactly three seconds passed before Zhalia pulled the trigger and a whooshing sound travelled through Lok's ear. Over 500 meters north, the bullet lodged right in the middle of their practice target, the hole neatly round from the speed and force of the bullet. Lok looked from the perfect aim to Zhalia in complete amazement. On her part, Zhalia lifted the gun, removed the scope as she dusted herself up from the ground and cocked her head to the side. She shot a deadly glare in Lok's direction, her next words non-negotiable.

"Try It. Again."

3. Nicotine smoke: ash residue poignant, ideal for tracking.

"He couldn't have been gone for more than half an hour." Zhalia's voice was heard from behind the room as Dante and Sophie roamed the floor for missing clues. Cherit flew across the roof in amazement of the intriguing artwork. "His cigarette smoke is still pretty strong, you can see traces of ash still warm on the floor from where he fled in a hurry."

Sophie wrinkled her nose in an aristocratic display worthy of her lineage. "I have no idea why anyone would want to smoke," She flipped her beautiful hair behind her back, careful to avoid the ash beneath her violet sneakers. "It's completely unattractive."

"I'd have to disagree." Dante flashed a charmingly boyish grin. "There are times where smoking is actually pretty attractive."

Sophie made a face of derision. "Like when?"

"Right after sex."

Sophie made a sound of disgust at Zhalia's admission. Dante, however, stared long and hard at the other female seeker, anxiously waiting for the next time he had Zhalia beneath him again.

4. Gambling

Zhalia's secret to winning most of the time when gambling were these three rules:

1. Bet high, but only once.

2. Follow the second to final bidder.

And most importantly: 3. Know when to quit.

Den tried to not run out the door, he really did. He swore to every deity he knew that he had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into when he agreed to play strip poker against -cards-to-cheat Moon. Actually, he previously had somewhat of a sick fantasy. Oh, he had imagined it then. His gorgeous teammate left in nothing but a lace black bra and matching panties, her collarbone shown just as smooth as her long, svelte legs. A beautiful blush would show on her face as she stared up at Den from under her demure eyelashes, just one move away from losing her top…

But as his luck would have it, Zhalia still wore every article of clothing she had entered with. The naked one, the player one move away from losing his boxers was him. He was down to three cards, each one as useless as is predecessor and with no chance of winning. Den looked at Zhalia then and felt the pitiful urge to cry. An evil grin was plastered on her delicate face, one long leg draped over the other as her nails tapped on the side of the rickety table. Her right eyebrow raised in amused malice over the state of Den's desperation. She looked like a venomous serpent ready to strike on its unexpectant kill.

Zhalia had him and they both knew it.

"Well?" Zhalia's grin turned feral. "What's it going to be?"

Den cursed heavily as he threw his pathetic cards on the table. With an annoyed click of his tongue, he rose from his seat, placed his index and thumb on the side of his grey boxers, then proceeded to pull them down, inch by agonizing inch.

In front of him, Zhalia burst out laughing.

5. Lethal Dehydration

"An average person can last a median of five days without water, exaggerated cases notwithstanding. You can expect to hold someone secluded with no food nor water, causing each organ to shut down as the nutrients from the body are drastically reduced. And then, once you anticipate the person is close to dying, you let him loose. You give him all the water he wants, all the food he can possibly shove down his throat, and when the acid lining erodes from the sudden intake of all the sodium and liquids, his stomach explodes."

"Then he chokes on his own blood and vomit, finally dying from chronic asphyxiation. By that logic, if the authorities manage to find the body, there are no traces of your DNA imprinted on it. So, technically it's not murder. It could be considered assisted suicide, but they'd have to prove it first. And let's be realistic. If the person is smart enough to torture someone by denial of sustenance over a period of five days with zero contact, then evidence of the murder wouldn't even be there. It would void the act of slaughter. Then again, you can also do it in open water. I mean, it has no traceable legal system." Zhalia looked up from her phone to look at everyone in the room. "But, you know," she placed a piece of popcorn into her mouth. "Depends on how much you hate him." Everyone silently contemplated her words.

Lethal dehydration, huh?

To be fair, Zhalia's next door neighbor did play atrociously loud music.

6. Skinning

"Don't you have a sharper knife? This thing is duller than Caliban's swords," Zhalia flipped the large piece of chicken from the metal board then proceeded to rip the legs clean. It was Thursday night at Dante's house, and every Thursday Zhalia and Dante made it a habit to eat together and talk about things that happened. Well, they usually just skipped the talking and headed straight to the bedroom afterwards, their libido heightened from the adrenaline of past missions. But between making reports and traveling with a band of overpowered teenagers, it was a wonder how they managed to remain sane. Truly, these Thursday evenings were of extreme importance.

Dante huffed under his breath at Zhalia's obvious annoyance. "Very funny." He stole a quick kiss when she turned the other way then grabbed her tightly from her waist to deliver a deeper kiss. Zhalia moaned upon feeling his large hands around her body, then opened her mouth to welcome his devilish tongue. One leg raised up to brush against his strong side, inwardly smiling as the other seeker's breath quickened. Dante's calm demeanor snapped as he picked her up then hoisted her on the kitchen counter, leaning his full weight on her. Her hair tickled his throat as his lips sucked just below her ear, his hand traveling to her back and cupping one round globe. Meanwhile, Zhalia kissed Dante hungrily, letting her hand roam seductively over his chest down to his abdomen and finally…

"Fuck," Dante's groin subconsciously pushed forward into her warm hand, Zhalia's wrist twisting tight enough to increase his stiffness. Each rub set his nerves aflame, his arousal becoming more apparent with the speed of her palm against his hardness. "Zhalia, Jesus Christ…"

"Did you know," Zhalia's wrist twisted even faster, her hand reaching past his shaft to cup the back. "You can heat the metal of the knife to the point of scorching to increase precision." Her words seemed like liquid honey, her breath warm against his neck making chills run across his body. "Makes it easier to skin them." She sucked a bright purple bruise just below his collarbone. "Makes them scream even more."

Dante moaned low in the back of his throat as her hand sped up. The last of her words died as his ears heard nothing but a deafening ring, the blood rushing to his head leaving him breathless. And with one final twist of her hand and a suck of his tongue into her mouth, Dante groaned as he reached his orgasm.

Zhalia placed numerous kisses on his chin, his cheeks, his forehead, and finally his beautiful lips. She loved the way his eyes took on a dazed look after he reached his climax.

On his part, Dante tried desperately to forget the part where Zhalia practically confessed her psychotic tendencies. In some sick, twisted way, it somehow made her all that more alluring.

He was surprised to realize he honestly did not care.

7. Foreign/External Magic

Her short, red hair seemed ablaze against the setting sun. A pair of bright green eyes stared coldly at their table as her lips set in a grim line to display her blatant suspicion of them. Her gaze fell on each of their amulets before finally resting on Zhalia's neck. Sophie was the first to take notice of the older lady staring in their direction with obvious distrust, and as such, immediately voiced her opinion. "Everyone, I think that woman keeps looking at our amulets."

Dante, Zhalia, and Harrison used the reflection on the front window to catch a glimpse of the red hair woman. Lok and Den did a full 180 and gawked at the woman behind them. Sophie sighed.

So much for subtlety.

A ruffle sounded from the bottom of Harrison's suitcase as the tiny titan shifted uncomfortably in the cramped space. His voice quivered in apprehension. "Do you think she already saw me?"

Zhalia caught a sliver of burning red hair and instantly recognized the weight of her gaze.

Remington.

"Relax, she's not going to do anything." Zhalia dropped her gaze then went back to typing away on her phone. "She's not interested in seekers, trust me."

"You know her?" Dante turned his attention to his side where Zhalia already seemed to lose interest. Mindful of the people around them, Dante dropped his voice several octaves as he whispered, "Does she possess magic as well?"

Zhalia raised her head to look at the woman's reflection again. Through the glare of the blurry glass, their eyes met and suddenly Zhalia's eyes saw the protruding of spidery black veins running across the woman's face, reaching her eyes as her pupils grew large and a dark aura emerged from where she sat. Zhalia's face grew stoic for a minute then simply broke eye contact as she turned to look at Dante's handsome features once more. "Not of the seeker kind, no."

Harrison could not disguise his skepticism. He rested his face on the palm of his hand. "There's other magic aside from that of seekers?" They all turned to look back at the mysterious woman only to find her gone. To the rest of the people on board, it was as if she was never even there.

Zhalia looked outside the window and stared at the rolling hills and graying skies, wishing to feel the bitter cold wind nipping at her delicate skin. "There's all sorts of magic, Harrison. Even more dangerous and untamed than that of seekers. It's only a matter of time before you see it." She let her head drop on Dante's warm shoulder as she snuggled closer to his side.

Outside, the train entered the approaching tunnel, the darkness momentarily engulfing everyone in a solemn feeling of serenity.

A/N: I had these tidbits in my head for a while so I decided to write them, just in time for the end of my winter break. I have to say, Zhalia and Dante are undoubtedly some of my favorite characters ever, I wish we got to see more of them. And Zhalia as a spy is an amazing headcanon, just saying.

Thanks again for all the reviews for my previous story, I am extremely glad you liked it! Hope you like this one just the same.