I'M SORRY! (Jap. Sumimasen!)
I know I'm evil. I'm wicked. And vile. But please, don't be angry with me! I really wanted to write sooner, I just didn't have time... My first university weeks were sooo hard! Now it's better. I'm getting used to my new schedule, I've got new acquaintances and stuff, but I still have much homework to do and many things to memorize, so, you know... Studying Japanese is important for me, I don't want to be thrown out of the university. If I want to do well, I have to work hard.
However, the story and you, my dearest Readers, are as much important, so I'm torn apart! I don't want to neglect you. Actually, I have to confess that I miss you all like hell... I sometimes come back to your old comments and gain more courage for the next days. But it's not the same thing as reading the fresh ones. I hope you didn't drop the story just because of the delay...
Hurray, I can respond to the comments now (though late):
- Jess: I know that I made Dante and Monty's rivalry a bit harsher that it was portrayed in the episode, but I wanted Zhalia to have a good reason to cheer Dante up ;) I'm sorry for the cliffhanger, I couldn't resist! I think that it wasn't that Dante and Zhalia were just acquaintances and then booom, they fell in love. I think they were attracted to each other, so they were probably meeting - as friends or so. For adults, 'dates' are something different than for teenagers, so they don't have to be treated like a signal 'I love you', 'We're a couple'. Well, many teenagers also don't treat it like that, but... oh, you get the point, I hope.
- Kimberly: I feel especially bad for disappointing you! You sent me two comments and I almost broke apart seeing that you wait for the next chapter so impatiently. There aren't many things as valuable for a writer than such a devoted fan! Thank you. You made me pull myself together and find some time to write, no matter what the cost. You can feel like a co-author of this chapter ;)
- VVindlady: Yeeeah, Zhalia is such a smartass ;D She knows how to lure Dante the most effectively! I just had to make her tease Dante and compare him to Montehue. I wrote before that she has a thing for rough, blunt men, bruisers or so ^^ Monty isn't literally a 'bruiser', but he acts loudly and jovially and appears to be proficient at fulfilling the mission, so she fell for his pose. But her attitude towards Dante won - she thinks she feels pity for him, but... is it really just a pity or maybe a liking? And he had to show some devilish horns, he can't be a goodie-goodie the whole time ;P And it shows he doesn't like Zhalia to underestimate him, kukuku.
I know that the Guardian didn't really resemble any of the wizards, but, you know, it's just Lok ^^ He always says silly things. And I couldn't resist the 'You shall not pass' line ^^
This chapter can be a metaphor of my recent attitude towards you. I also was silent for some time and now try to make up for the time I didn't write anything. So, the chapter is fairly long. Hope it will be fine after a month-long break.
Enjoy and see you SOONER than before!
Sha
28th June 2009, Sunday, 16:12
Dante's house
Venice, Italy
Dante Vale, you'll certainly fall for me today.
And that's not just an empty boast! Do you really think I'd throw such announcements if I didn't have a 100% guarantee that they'd come true? Oh no, I always prepare the ground for my successes first. Now I know that I have the right to be a bit vain, I checked it before leaving. I look gorgeous! The hours spent in front of the mirror paid off, as well as the dilemmas such as: what to wear? What to do with my hair? Which make-up to choose?
I know that sooner or later, it doesn't matter anymore. The clothes are taken off faster than they were put on and the hair and make-up end up messed up, but… I couldn't deny myself just a small pleasure of seeing Dante's stunned face! I remember his goggled eyes when I flirted with him on plane from Iceland… It was hilarious, really. He's quite a good poser, but now I know that his coolness is just a façade which hides a completely helpless wimp. One could have thought that I was picking up an inexperienced snot, confused and puzzled by a mere stroke of a hand! I start to think that he hasn't banged anyone yet. Or had been so committed to his work recently that he forgot how a woman's touch tastes…
Don't worry, honey. I'll remind you as many times as you'd like.
After all, just for you I put on a push-up bra, thongs sharp like a knife's edge and skin-tight jeans underlining every curve of my bottom and made a war-paint. I hesitated the most over painting my lips. I'm well-aware that the red lipstick is the best decoy for horny guys, but maybe he doesn't like to be covered in crimson imprints? If my kisses surrounded his mouth with a smeared frame, I wouldn't handle it and burst into a mad laughter, comparing him to Joker. It'd ruin the whole atmosphere. That's why I choose the pale lip gloss. Moreover, it's not so suggestive. I know that now I'm denying myself – I WANT to send him a signal that he can take liberties with me – but more you think about it, more logical it gets: I have to look casual because he can't think that I really did my best doing myself up for the date! He has to be aware that it's him who needs to impress me before I let him slip under my clothes. And that's the whole philosophy of that seemingly insignificant detail.
The final effect is satisfactory, besides, with lips like these, I don't really have to do much to upgrade them. Screw modesty, Angelina Jolie can get stuffed with hers, pumped up like a rubber dinghy! I frizz my hair a bit before I knock to the door and make a nonchalant pose, waiting for Dante to open them in front of me, official and a bit uptight. I hope that just today, he won't wear his lame duster. He could try to look fine just that one time… I did myself up, I can even stand a string itching between my cheeks! Though, of course, I'm not going to let it stay there for too long, hihihihi.
What is taking him so long? Maybe he's in the middle of the feverish preparation? It'd be funny to burst in and catch him with his trousers tangled around his ankles and his compromising underwear revealed? The whole Organization would die from laughter, hearing such an anecdote! I can't resist, I press the handle, but, surprisingly, someone does it from the other side in the same time. We pull the door forwards and backwards for a while.
'Who's there?', the unseen person asks finally.
'It's me', I answer, holding back an expressive: 'you idiot'. Remember soon that you'll take a photo of his gross pants and send it to the whole Organization, I lecture myself not to growl. I let go off the handle, I have enough of that nonsensical struggle like from the slapstick comedy. We won't go far that way.
A fair-haired head appears next to the frame.
'Zhalia!', Lok smiles, opening the door wider. 'Hi! What're you doing here?'
'Standing like a fool', I grumble, not very pleased with seeing him. How could I mistake his breaking voice with Dante's baritone? But damn, I didn't expect him here right today! What the hell is he doing here?! Came for some free porn? Dante's already giving away the ticket for the 18+ showing?
'Oh, right', the embarrassed boy corrects himself. 'Come in please.'
'I didn't expect you here', I throw, still discontent. Does Dante need a butler before he greets me himself? Where the hell is he?
'We're taking care of the house', the boy responds, closing the door and inviting me to the living room. Great, so the red monkey is here too. She sits on the carpet as if she was in her own house, and when I just enter the room, she wrinkles her nose as if I had just washed in the septic tank and brought its odor here. I ignore her haughtily, pretending that she's not even here. That's safer for everyone, believe me.
'Dante asked us to drop in on here when he'd be away', Lok continues explaining, sitting onto the sofa next to Cherit. 'He hasn't come back from his mysterious trip yet…'
Excuse me? What does it mean: hasn't come back?! I don't give a shit what stopped him, he was supposed to be here, that's it! He made an appointment with a super chick, for whom he should even swim across the Atlantic just to get there in time! And what's he doing?! He's leaving me with three chaperones, if the unaware Titan also counts!
I can't stand the thought that Dante Vale simply gave me a miss, though he said clearly that we were meeting in two days, so, right today! Maybe he didn't specify the time, but he had few days to do so! And he did nothing, he didn't even call, hell, didn't send a stupid text message! I boil with anger thinking that he didn't count every minute dividing him from meeting me…
'So, there's nothing to do for me', I parry wryly, seriously offended.
'Oh, no, don't go, stay a while!', Lok encourages me, not deciphering my face as an evident symptom of fury. 'He said he'd be gone just for the weekend. Today's Sunday, he has to show himself soon.'
'Do you have some business for him?', Sophie reels up to me ostentatiously, deciding to accept my presence in order to satisfy her sick intrusiveness..
'Even if I do, this business concerns just him, as you remarked', I respond proudly. 'You're right', I say to Lok. 'I'll wait.'
The boy smiles and offers me an armchair, which I take with Cleopatra-like dignity. From this point, I'll have a perfect view of the return of the king, I mean, Dante, of course. And I'll throw him the most scornful stare I can.
He has to understand that no one forgets about a date with Zhalia Moon if he values his life.
The same day, 16:49
The Marco Polo Airport
Venice, Italy
'Sir… We've already landed. It's possible to leave now.'
Dante twitched, taking his eyes off the window. For a moment, he stared unconsciously at the small face of the petite, fair-haired woman in a navy blue costume, leaning over him with a professional smile. Then he blinked and shook his head, noticing that in fact the silhouette of his favorite city on the globe and people rushing on the airport were visible behind the windowpane.
'Right', he admitted apologetically, undoing the safety belt. 'Please forgive me.'
The stewardess smiled again, but somewhat less cheerfully; after a moment, the studied mannequin-like face was replaced by the way more natural expression of ordinary human worry.
'Are you alright, sir?', the woman asked, lightly furrowing her plucked brows.
The question was justified. Dante had seen himself in the mirror today and was well-aware that he wasn't bursting with vigor. He hadn't slept much for last several dozen hours, busy with feverish talks full of medical jargon, keeping a vigil at the bedside surrounded by a complex apparatus and listening to the heavy breath, or with anxious wandering around the guest room and racking his brain to finally find an ingenious solution which could end that suffering once and for all… Additionally, he felt as if his face muscles had frozen in one position, congealed from tension, and couldn't loosen at all, even now when he tried to force a grateful smile.
'Well enough not to trouble you', he responded as politely as possible, trying to make up for his limited mimic with kindness.
'If I could help you somehow…', the girl started shyly; she seemed very young and confused, as well as ready to help.
Dante saddened again. If anyone could help him… If there was such a person… he'd find the legendary cities of gold, found an unicorn or invented the perpetuum mobile to reward him for the favour which meant more than life for him.
'Thank you', he only said, standing up from his seat. 'I hope everything will turn out fine soon.'
His source of comfort was a small rectangular piece of paper stuck in his pocket, on which, with a sharp, angular style, a certain Vienna address was written.
The same day, 17:29
Dante's house
Venice, Italy
I'll murder him, I swear.
I know I promise it constantly, but now I'll do it for sure. And not in a smooth, humanitarian way. Oh no. I've got an idea to smoke the whole pack of cigarettes in his presence and then push the still-burning butt-ends into his asshole, one after another, until another spine would be found after taking an X-ray. What do you think about it?
I almost pierce the paper with the pen. Taking the dictated spare time, I've been trying to scrawl a map by Klaus' instructions. We had a small quarrel about it yesterday. He insisted that I should get interested in the new mission, targeting a certain townhouse in the center of Vienna, where the source of the Basilisk legends possibly laid. I told him that I'd be veeery busy and explained what was the matter, accentuating how clever and resourceful I was, but instead of praising my wit and effectiveness, he seemed dissatisfied. Perhaps he really got into his head that I'd be able to hunt the deadly reptile and set a trap for Dante in the same time! I announced him trenchantly that he had to decide what was more important for him instead of encouraging me to start more advanced actions at first and then suddenly changing his mind after I'm one step apart from fulfilling that array. I also added that personally, I'd prefer to pit myself against the oversized lizard than take care of Mister Vale's 'snake', but it doesn't depend on me and the order from above said that the infiltration should be my priority. Klaus had a hard time deciding. His greediness fought the sense of duty and the willingness to ingratiate himself with the Professor, and what comes next – being raised above all the Organization operatives. Eventually, he told me to do my stuff; however, I know that resignation from the worthy Titan was hard for him and he still isn't pleased with the necessity of such solution. He possibly still wonders how to get both prizes.
It turns out that you really can't have everything at once. When I could have gotten Vale, the Basilisk had laid out of my reach. But now, when Dante enjoys life somewhere in the world and doesn't even think about contacting me, I wonder if chasing the beast isn't quite a good option. After all, if I catch King Basilisk, I'll have a right to keep him; and Dante is just a toy for five minutes which I will have to give to the Professor and then forget about his existence. Maybe only remind myself about him as one thanks to whom I was raised to the top. MAYBE.
'Man, I'm clueless', Lok murmurs, leaning over the table. 'It's like having a pop quiz the day after the spring break…'
I peek askance at the brats. Since I came, they have been playing with some colorful blocks. They suit them perfectly. Finally the kids are in the right place, busy with some rubbish which doesn't really make more sense – apart from keeping them away from any other, more risky actions, endangering their health. Beside them, I feel like a blasé kindergarten career.
'Oh, don't give up, Lok', Cherit cheers him up; oh, sorry, the position of the babysitter is already taken. Right, I hate children. 'Take a look at Sophie!'
The boy obediently raises his stare at the puzzle created by the girl.
'Hey, how did you already get so far?', he wonders, observing how his peer expertly pushes the parts into the right places.
'It's just a tessellation', Sophie shrugs, not stopping her activity. 'You know, like the artist Escher, although it is a very complex one.'
'Tesse-whatses?', Lok furrows his brow. I suppose that on that point, he lost the idea what she was talking about and the whole speech didn't impress him at all. No wonder. For me, it's just a simple blabbering just to let Sophie prove her immense knowledge.
'A tessellation', she repeats patiently. 'It's a pattern made by the series of repeating images. Don't you remember art history class?'
'I'm trying to forget…', he mumbles with disgust, leaning both elbows on the sofa and observing the jigsaw with discontent. I almost see how the processor heats up under his skull. Give it a break, lad, and go take the console. Operating a few buttons is a task suiting your skills best.
'Dante!', Sophie shouts suddenly. 'You're back!'
In a second, I tense like a panther ready to jump, alarmed. I raise my head and the first thing to come at my eyes is a diarrhea-coloured duster taken off from the men's shoulders. Which will end up in pieces in no time, as well as its owner.
Then, I state that someone here had quite a hard weekend.
Dante puts the cloak onto the headrest and slumps into the armchair, staring at his knees, as if he didn't notice our presence. His peepers are vacant and squinted from tiredness, dark circles spread almost to his grayish cheeks. His beard starts to lose its appearance, the extra bristle, seemingly unshaved since the last time I saw him, ruins its usual shape completely. Overall, he seems somewhat crumpled; in the best case, he could pose for a civilized bum or a decedent who were buried too quickly and now was trying to come back to his everyday activities.
But that's not the reason to make me feel pity for him. Not after how he humiliated me. I clear my throat meaningfully to signal that I'm here and deserve some explanations. Unsuccessfully.
'You've been gone for almost two days!', Lok remarks with reproach. 'You haven't even called any of us…'
'That's right, we were worried!', Sophie joins in, looking at her idol anxiously, as if she was afraid that he'd snuff it right now.
'YOU were worried, you mean', I correct her chillily. I'm not interested why he looks as if he survived a close encounter of the third kind. 'Maybe Dante just doesn't wanna share every last thing with you two?'
But he could share it with me, I think, staring at him askance. I feel almost as if I was observing the title actor before the first shot of Dawn Of The Dead.
Sophie throws me a sharp glare, I answer to it meanly.
'Calm down!', Cherit interrupts us, sensing the storm coming, as if a spark of electricity went between us. 'He may have had a mission! What say you, Dante?', he reels up to Vale with curiosity.
The man wriggles anxiously, I don't know if that's a sign of impatience or the confusion.
'Actually…', he speaks up finally; oh, thanks for honoring us with the sound of your voice! Though you should have started with 'Hello everyone' or 'Good afternoon'. 'I was prepping for my trip to Vienna this week.'
I twitch. In Vienna? Why right in Vienna? Damn, I hope he didn't sniff anything suspicious concerning me… that it's not the reason why he's acting as if I wasn't here… as if we weren't appointed for a date…
'My dad's journal mentions Vienna all the time!', Lok remarks with excitement. 'Cool! Let's pack!'
Dante heaves a sigh and stands up slowly; his moves lost most of their springiness. What's up with him? He acts as if he got twice older during just those two days…
'Sorry, but I'm going by myself', he responds strictly.
Lok and Sophie goggle their eyes at him, giving subdued shouts of shock. Cherit's eyes pop out. Oh yeah, I admit, that was kinda out of the blue… I'd rather expect him to at least ask me to join and then spend some time together, maybe a few days during which he would pay me off for his late arrival and that instead of being in a state of advanced undress with my legs around his waist, I have to stand a bunch of kids and his mysterious image change for a George Romero's zombie.
'But…', Lok wants to protest, but he stops, as if he didn't know how to speak his mind, surprised by his teacher's behavior.
Dante approaches the window, passing by my armchair. I observe him askance. Well, maybe you'll at least apologize, you bastard?
'Some things have to be dealt with alone', he explains with a determined voice, lacking his usual understanding.
U-huu, cowboy, you overdid it, trying to impress me… I'm really not moved by silent, severe heroes, especially when I know them as simple dimwits right from the start.
'Too bad', I say out loud ostentatiously, judging that I have to take the lead to make the talk end up my way. 'There's something I've been meaning to check out in Vienna.'
I hope that it'll remind him of our date, that he was late for it and that he still hasn't done anything to fix it.
'Dante, I thought we were a team!', Lok joins in. 'Come on!'
It's not exactly what I meant… What's better: letting him go alone (which makes me miss the chance for the ultimate seduction) or following him, but also accepting the brats' companionship? Well, we could lose those two somewhere… for example, rent ourselves a DOUBLE room in some cozy motel…
Vale stays silent. I have my back exposed to him and I don't want to turn around and in the same way show him that I'm really interested in his reaction. I treat him just like he treats me – pretending not to notice him. The kids, however, stare at him openly, insolently and expectantly.
'Alright', Dante responds finally and I have a feeling that I hear a note of laughter in his voice, surprising given his mood. 'You guys win. Pack up.'
'Oh yes!', Sophie beams, waving her fist with triumph.
I can't say, I'm also content with the way it turned out. Maybe on the plane we will find a moment when Vale will confess repentantly in front of me and as a gesture of redress, ask me not for a coffee, but for a supper… with breakfast included, of course.
'Ehm… We can continue our search for your father, right, Lok?', Sophie corrects herself, realizing that her joy is too unambiguous to look innocent. 'Huh?! How did you…? When did you…?'
It's rare for the young Casterwill to lose her tongue (unluckily), so I'm curious what made her go into such a state.
'The reflection of the pieces caught my eye', Lok points at the mirror, presenting the complete puzzle, identical to the one Sophie created. 'The pattern is a snap to follow when it's reversed!'
Sophie crosses her arms on her chest, especially dissatisfied. I can only imagine that it's not pleasant to be outshined by the class dumbass. After all, she slaved for an hour over something Lok created in a few minutes!
'Sometimes', Dante starts, observing his charges with acknowledgement, 'looking at the problem from the opposite angle will allow you to move forward.'
The conclusion like from the kids' educational program. You don't notice a problem even when it's right in front of you and has been piercing you with a murderous glare for few minutes. If during the whole flight to Vienna you don't explain to me why you're ignoring me, I'll stuff that moral into your ass.
29th June 2009, Monday, 16:12
Next to the Huntik Foundation safehouse
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
Catching a plane to Vienna hadn't looked as easy as Dante had thought at first. Most of the flights had been canceled or delayed, so they had spent most of the night and morning camping on the airport. Vale envied Lok who could sleep in every conditions and even the plastic chairs made for him a comfortable bed. He himself had just wanted to bundle on one of them and fall into a long sleep, which could take him away from his dismal thoughts and loosen the knot of nervousness which tightened in his chest.
He hadn't had an opportunity to take a nap until they had gotten on board, after nine hours of waiting when he had been so exhausted that he had almost laid on the airstrip. However, he had been waking up every few minutes, anxious and tense. Then he had been dragging out his cell and checked the recent calls list over and over to convince himself that the last conversation hadn't been only his dream and everything had been settled.
He expected to get to Vienna sooner, so when they finally arrived at the Spittelberg, he was already nervous about the delay. He hurried his team as he could, but however obedient the kids were, not wanting to displease him, Zhalia seemed to put off on purpose. Moreover, he had a feeling that she was angry with him again. She sat far away from him in the plane, but from time to time, he caught her furious glare. He hadn't had time to worry about it. That problem had to wait for its solution. He just hoped that it wasn't only a girl's tantrum over some nonsense again.
When he finally dragged the whole gang to the Foundation safehouse, he told them to wait and stayed inside for a while. He finally left, carrying a rectangular, silver suitcase. The surprised team threw him an attentive gaze. Oh yes, he shouldn't have to flaunt it. They probably started to suspect him of smuggling the illegal goods abroad or money laundering. Let it be. At most, his repute would be stained by some mud, ridiculously small comparing to the avalanche that would come down if he hadn't endangered his name.
'I'll be out most of the day on the personal business, so don't wait around for me', he announced without mincing words.
Zhalia snarled, making the strand from her forehead bounce up and down.
'I'm fairly certain I can find what I'm looking for without your help', she blurted sharply with a stoutness he wouldn't accuse her of after they had managed to make up few days before. Not waiting for his reaction, she waved at the passing taxi and jumped into it without saying her goodbyes, vehemently shutting the door.
'Where are we going, lady?', Dante heard the driver's jovial, loud question even through the closed door.
'As far from that jerk as possible', she grunted, intentionally raising her voice and throwing Dante the last angry gaze before the car pulled out screeching.
During the last week, he had already manage to become a loser, and now the jerk was added. He wondered what terms of endearment still awaited him…
He sighed silently and turned around to the two young Seekers. Lok seemed embarrassed by the heard talk, but Sophie, strangely, beamed like a kid who had suddenly gotten a candy.
'I know you two can take care of yourself', Dante only said. 'Call me if there's an emergency', he accentuated the last word, making them aware that it's better not to seek his help in some trifle. Then he turned around and left them as they stood, increasing the distance as much as possible without dashing. Right around the corner, he used Hyperstride and made off, weaving his way between the buildings or running across their roofs to complicate the tracks as much as he could. He knew his charges too well to believe that they wouldn't follow him.
And right now he didn't want to have them by his side. It'd be bad to drag two fifteen-years-old with clean sheets into some black-market arrangements. Even those for a good cause.
The same day, 17:02
The Basilisk's townhouse
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
What an asshole one has to be to first ask a girl out, after that disappear for two days, not even send a word and then come back and pretend that nothing happened and there's no matter to settle?!
That's the only thing I'm wondering about, going through the dark corridor with Gareon on my shoulder. The Basilisk's townhouse is a real labyrinth, I prefer to have some aid by my side, in case I mistake the turns or something. I know I had so much time to memorize the map and I was sure I did, but now it turns out that I can't move in that mess freely! Everything's that idiot's fault!
He had so many occasions to talk to me! And if he only tried, but no, he didn't pay attention to me completely, as if he stated he hadn't had any obligations towards me. Does he suffer amnesia or what?! Or maybe he got swollen-headed?! Such a celebrity! Who'd have thought he's such a twat?!
'Me', Gareon interrupts the flow of my thoughts. I sense his approval every time when I spit some obscene epithets referring to Dante. Though I'm not in the mood, his satisfaction makes me amused. Little smarty-pants. I smooth his head and promise him that when I'm done with Dante, he'll get his duster to chew, scratch and tear. The gecko brushes against my cheek with happiness.
Suddenly he freezes and flexed his back like a scared cat. Someone's coming, he warns me. I prick my ears and hear the steps, too. I know that DeFoe wanders around and perhaps I shouldn't fear him, but I'd rather not meet him today. We're not in the best terms, as you managed to notice. Besides, even if we were, in the Organization, there isn't such a friendship which would be more important than a valuable prize. None of us would give up on King Basilisk.
I come back to one of the tunnel's mouth, but it turns out to be a dead-end. The nervous Gareon shifts from paw to paw. Divert their attention, I order him. He jumps from my shoulder and runs ahead, melting with the environment half-way. I lie in wait until the two silhouettes pass by my hideout. I recognize the red skirt. Oh, great. I lacked only those two here. They always have to mess everything up… It's not that they're some kind of rivals for me, no kidding! It's just that I don't need such a wayward company. I hope I'd manage to pass them by stealthily.
Too bad.
'We know you're there!', Lok shouts, turning around with Sophie to the opposite direction.
I'd love to see their faces when Gareon appears in front of them! Shame they're turned away from me. Shame they are here, at all. Well, nothing to do with that.
'Oh, do you know?', I emerge from the shadow, catching their attention. 'I think someone needs to work on your sense of direction…', I add acrimoniously, calling Gareon back to the amulet.
'What're you doing here?', Lok wonders out loud.
'That's what I'd like to know', Sophie joins in suspiciously, crossing her arms and scowling at me.
'This house and its treasure is what I came to Vienna for', I explain. 'Guess the Organization did, too.'
'What a strange coincidence…', Sophie throws bitingly, smirking with the corner of her mouth.
'Now look, just bec…', I begin sharply 'cause those never-ending remarks start to piss me off. Did they really urge to screw my mood up?! It's not enough that I'm parading in uncomfortable panties in vain, do they really have to add to it?!
'I know how much you like disliking each other', Lok interrupts me quickly, 'but we need to get to the Titan before the bad guys do!'
'Ay, we need to get moving!', Cherit supports him.
I think I preferred when we were bossed around by that shabby imbecile. I handled it better than the instructions of the fifteen-years-old whipster who don't even know where to lead us, 'cause when he tries, we immediately bump into DeFoe and his jolly team, dressed like Bob the Builder's subordinates!
We glue our bodies to the wall, hoping that he won't notice us in the darkness. No worry, he's too busy staring at some paper to do so.
'They're following a map!', Lok remarks in a piercing whisper.
'That'd explain the knowledge of the maze!', Sophie admits, kneeling down next to her peer.
'Well then, this will lead them to the end!', Cherit joins in.
'Oh yeah', I agree wryly, 'and they'll surely beat us to the Titan, too…'
'But if we can get that map, we'll get there first!', Lok states, loosening a bit when the enemies disappear behind the corner. 'We can't go around them, but… what if we try going OVER them?'
'Over?', I repeat, surprised.
'If you two cause a distraction, Cherit and I will take care of the rest', he assures us in a confident tone. I guess I know that pose from somewhere… What a pity he has to learn from that Italian stuck-up.
However, Dante's plan always worked, until now. Somehow I'm not certain if Lok's ideas would do the job as well… oh, I'll risk. If I can't get both preys at once, I'll have at least one. Klaus will be glad; since I informed him about changing my plans, he has been impatiently waiting for showing him King Basilisk, like a kid before Christmas. But why I'm not as happy, though I have a chance to win a powerful Titan?...
The same day, 18:30
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
This time the suitcase was two times lighter, but Dante was twice more tired than before, carrying it to the hotel. Earlier he hadn't been afraid to drop it, knowing that it wouldn't have any unpleasant consequences; now the handle was slipping from his hand which was getting sweaty at the mere thought that the content could end up destroyed. He also tried not to arouse suspicions, but he knew that the rare cut of his duster and the bottle-green sunglasses weren't the best camouflage. First, he should have consulted Zhalia about the disguise, he stated, passing by a small coffee house near the Foundation hotel.
Vale stopped suddenly and gazed at the sign. He knitted his brows. Coffee. Zhalia. Some screws in his brain clicked into position and switched off again like a burnt-out bulb, leaving only a feeling that he missed something. It was probably due to the fatigue. He dreamt only about trailing himself along to the hotel, throwing his body onto the bed and making up for the lost hours of the rest, feeling that he fulfilled his duty well. Coffee would completely spoil those plans. He shook his head and went ahead again.
He breathed out a sigh of relief when he finally got to the Foundation's safe base. He came up the stairs, found the right room and pressed the handle, expecting it to yield with ease. However, the door was closed. He furrowed his brow, searched into his pocket, found the key, then he unlocked the room and came in. The interior was drown in the darkness, he had to switch the light on not to bump into the furniture; he could walk blindly in his home, but he didn't want to risk in the strange place. In the best case, he would end up with a swollen big toe, in the worst – with broken skull. He needed his head in the full efficiency, as well as the rest of his body – in the city full of Suits, one had to be on guard.
He looked around; the door to every part of the apartment were open, and there wasn't a living soul in any of them. Only the untidy luggage showed that someone was here before. He felt his muscles tensing watchfully again. He judged the situation with the eye of the professional – no signs of a scuffle, just a mess, as if someone had been in a hurry before leaving.
'Seems like I didn't get invited to the party…', he murmured to himself, like always when he had to concentrate and set his thoughts in order; the sound of his own voice helped him keep calm and organize his actions, so without nerves, in a methodical move, he left his precious briefcase on the table and approached Sophie's bag.
'No Cypherdex…', he noticed, looking it up and down, then came to Lok's suitcase. 'No journal…'
He called something back; his photographical memory helped him find new trails. He came back to the living room and there he watched a piece of paper leaning on the top, which he took for a needless scrap before.
'This is the map Zhalia was looking at', he recognized. He studied carefully the crossing lines ending with circles and X-es, then he straightened up and went to the door. 'If it is a party, I'll have to crush it…'
The same day, 18:41
The Basilisk's townhouse
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
It turns out that my premonitions aren't just some women's exaggeration, just a true intuition. If it's not it, how to explain the fact that I know right from the start that listening to Lok would end up awfully?!
At first everything was going smoothly – we two distracted DeFoe, Lok played with Kipperin, woosh! and he stole map, we made away content with the success, but we didn't celebrate it for too long. Soon, DeFoe's men surrounded us and caught as easily as if we were a group of schoolgirls on the picnic. Sur-f*cking-prise! I'm used to them, but it doesn't mean I like them, dammit! And I especially can't stand wearing handcuffs, being tied tightly like a smoked ham next to two nasty kids by a long-haired freak whom I hate even more than them! Not without my Titans, taken away from me by force! Not surrounded by a group of Suits (who actually changed their usual clothes for yellow overalls, but let the name stay), listening to that maniac! And not before the monster which can turn me into stone in no time!
DeFoe dragged us into a chamber which was marked as the ultimate destination on my map. It's huge, the light of the lamps makes it look yellowish, broken only by the crimson curtain covering half of the wall vis-à-vis the door… and the head of the monument stylized for an enormous reptile. I'm not so willing to check what's behind the drape. Especially keeping in mind all the legends about the basilisks and the power of their stare…
Unluckily, it's not me who directs that performance.
'You two', DeFoe addresses two guardians from next to the wall. 'It's time for the final act!', he announces. 'Draw the curtain.'
I hold back a remark that it's the worst thing they can do. Don't expect me to protect these morons who treat me like an ordinary Foundation scum, though we worked together not so long ago. Two guys fulfill the order quickly.
'Hurry, you fools', DeFoe hurries them despite it.
Oh yeah, faster you do it, faster there will be less of you to beat up. I observe carefully how the guys draw aside the heavy curtain made of red brocade… and suddenly one of them screams hysterically. The other one jumps aside before he gets touched by the stream of purple energy, which actually entwines his pal like a ribbon and freezes into a granite shell.
'Oh my, how tragic', DeFoe comments theatrically, not paying attention to the animal-like panting of the almost-victim, looking at the statue which was his colleague just a moment ago. 'Guess we'll need some more guinea pigs… Luckily the Huntik Foundation has been kind enough to donate a few', he peeks at our compressed trio suggestively.
Oh no, DeFoe. If you endanger me right now, you'll go over the top. I'm already shaking from fury when I see my little Gareon's amulet, glistening to me longingly from the sachet attached to your belt.
'Our little flyboy and the Casterwill brat go first', he appoints.
And that's a very good move. At least you'll leave here with your balls in the right place, not stuffed deeply into your ass.
'You do love puzzles, no?', he reels up to Lok, like a teacher greeting a new charge.
'A-actually, no', Lok stutters, 'I-I'm… good. I don't need a puzzle right now…'
'No choice!', Sophie suggestively points at the Suits guarding them, with their powers ready to use.
The kids approach the sculpture on the shaking legs. Everyone watches the two in tension. No one pays attention to me and Cherit, we're not important. After all, it's not us who give the reason for thrilling bets if we are turned into a pile of junk or not. Very well. The others should buy me some time. It goes fine so far, 'cause they're only standing and gazing at the monument.
'Hurry, children', DeFoe hurries them sweetly.
I hope that they won't repeat their predecessor's mistake and get it that they shouldn't raise their eyes. And call back the childhood stories, in which to defeat the Basilisk, the characters used…
Great, Sophie. A mirror, exactly. I knew you'd be useful after all. Though in the same time you proved my opinion that you're just a shallow doll who just fixes her make-up every few minutes. What normal Seeker carries a make-up case as the basic equipment?!
I rather count on the hairpins. They can be used to pin my hair… or to unlock the handcuffs. This lock isn't very complex. Just one minute more and…
The curtain is drawn aside.
Lok falls onto his knees, covering his face. Next to him Sophie hunches her shoulders, hiding her head between them, and raises her mirror high. I close my eyes, I don't have a clue how far the Basilisk's glare reaches and if he realizes that the closest victims stay unaffected by his power, he won't look for the next ones. So, I don't see, just hear how the statue gets covered in the granite layer and breaks into pieces, when its own ability is used against it. When the parts of the monument fall down, they uncover…
'There's another room!', Lok remarks before he chokes, lifted up by his neck.
'Now that you've done my dirty work', DeFoe pants with hatred, possibly still angry that earlier, during stealing the map, he was tricked by a kid and a small Titan, 'we can pick up where we left off', apart from throttling the boy, he decided to use some power too, which surrounded Lambert's head in a cloud of poisoned smoke.
Oh, I'm not so sure… With the corner of my eye, I notice a glimpse somewhere in the corridor. I turn my head lightly, pretending that I puff off a strand from my face. I see a quick signal made by an open hand. I recognize its shape. For the first time in a while I'm happy to see it, though lately I was dreaming only about biting it off to the elbow. Well, some jerks really have a sense of time.
I start to struggle harder to disturb the Suits. Meanwhile the dark spot slips into the room and prowls under the wall right to DeFoe. The light uncovers a part of the bearded face and the whole silhouette sneaking to the boy's rescue. Despite his eyes watering due to the greenish mist, Lambert also recognizes the familiar figure.
'Don't you get it?!', he chokes out, holding back a cough; he starts to lack air to breathe. 'This is all part of Dante's plan!'
'I'll burn you to ashes for trying such a simple lie twice!', the furious Organization agent growls, doubling the dose of the toxic gas.
'If he's lying, then why am I right behind you?'
DeFoe turns around, shocked. Dante straightens up in the light of the lamps, throwing him a derisive stare. Though his stupid mug looks like a frame from the Frankenstein movies, this show-off hides it perfectly under a cocky face of the eternal lucky guy, who always ACCIDENTALLY drops into the locked townhouse to spoil his enemies' plans IN PASSING.
'No!', the long-haired leader yells, grappling Lok in a nelson hold and drawing out an inseparable ampoule with the poison, which always gets rid of his every unwelcome enemy.
A short whizz and Solwing knocks the phial out of his hand, additionally tearing off the pouch with our amulets from his belt; it lands somewhere in the corner. The long-haired leader grits his teeth, seeing his prizes out of his reach.
'Emerge, Kreutalk!', he shouts, both enraged and scared that his opponent is so close and he stays helpless.
The Titan attacks Solwing out of revenge. However, Dante doesn't intend to limit himself with such a short and ineffective performance.
'Time to clean house', he announces, taking out an amulet. 'Caliban!'
Now DeFoe doesn't stand a chance. Grier sees it as his duty to protect him.
'Suppress him, Breaker!', he orders strictly, resorting to his pet's strength.
Great, everyone's busy now – Dante took Grier for himself, Caliban fights Breaker, Solwing yanks Kreutalk, DeFoe gets under everyone's feet, and the kids, as always, have the easiest task – beating the Suits. So, what's left for me to do?
'Here's when things get interesting', I judge, knocking my guardian off with a single kick, easily as if I was throwing away a creased leaflet advertising a substance healing the hemorrhoids, and shaking off the handcuffs.
I rub my wrists, enjoying my regained freedom with satisfaction, but I don't have much time to triumph. Someone will notice soon that I should be found an activity, and I don't have any minute to spare, not now when the path to King Basilisk lays open in front of me… Shielding myself with Armorbrand, I cross the battlefield. I almost get hit by Kreutalk's tail; it turns around and spits a stream of acid towards me before Solwing draws it aside, tearing it with his claws and fluttering his wings. I manage to avoid the wave of toxicant and in a pretty slip, I get right to the abandoned amulets (polishing the floor with my butt for free). I regain my talismans and stuff them messily into my pocket, leaving only Gareon outside. I feel his rambling energy, trying to find a way out of the narrow prison. I summon him immediately, letting out his gathered anger and loneliness. I let him vent all his happiness from re-bonding on me for some time, but then I break the stream of caresses and give him a task of delivering the rest of the amulets to the others. He listens to me willingly, which I didn't expect from my little crosspatch; apparently he tasted the captivity beside DeFoe and now appreciates my wardship more. There are advantages of this whole mess.
Certain that the other amulets will get to their owners, I can take care of the more urgent matters right now. Making long leaps, I run up the stairs to the podium, then I dash in the corridor leading to the second chamber. Holding on to the wall, I go through the dark passing and finally I stand eye to eye with a statue looking similar to the previous one. I lower my stare automatically, but nothing happens, I don't feel even a slightest touch of power. Is it an another fix? I approach the stone reptile slowly and put my hand onto its muzzle with hesitation. I clench my teeth when a flow of piercing energy goes through me, like repeating bites of the dagger-sharp, poisoned fangs or smacking by a whip-like tail. Ouuuuch, it's certainly not a set-up…
'It's not exactly friendly…', I drawl, a drop of sweat slides to my mouth from the forehead. 'Can I even bond with it?...'
Colorful spots start to glitter under my lids. The pain gets more and more unbearable, hard to endure, sickly, burning like an acid, turning every cell of my body into a lifeless piece of meat, numb… I won't do it, even my blood seems to be freezing… No, I can't, I just have to give up and let someone else take it, I will have to deal with it…
'Caliban!'
Dante's frightened scream shakes the torpor off me. They're losing, I know it. No wonder. Lok had enough from DeFoe, Sophie had to resist King Basilisk, Cherit can't be counted at all, and Dante had been out of form for some days. If I don't do something, who else will?
'Screw you, King Basilisk', I growl from behind my teeth, 'you're going with me and that's it!'
I set my power against the lizard's deadly one, like a wasp which stings despite knowing that it'll die right after. I clench my fingers on the reptile's muzzle, breaking my nails, digging them into my hand… which finally gets filled by an irregular shape, resembling a rough stone in touch.
I open my eyes, observing the amulet without any emotions. I did it. I could do it. Now just don't faint. I have to manage, even if every wave of energy sent by the rebelling Titan, displeased with the imprisonment, hurts and bites. I straighten up slowly. Oh yeah. You're a great actress, Zhalia. You'll be able to play it.
The same day, 19:01
The Basilisk's townhouse
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
'Now I have you all', DeFoe announced, overjoyed.
Dante looked around at his decimated team. Caliban had come back to the amulet the second before, Sabriel and Kilthane lied on the floor, knocked down by Kreutalk's acid, and they weren't helpful anymore. Lok and Sophie got hemmed in by the Suits. Zhalia's Gareon did as much as giving them back their amulets, 'cause he wasn't able to defend them for long. One blow and he was done. Though the Casterwill girl tried to resort to Icarus' support, he also ended up awfully, hit shortly after the summoning. The brave Solwing kept holding on for the longest time, but eventually even him had to surrender to the Mindrones' domination. They could expect Cherit to get them out of the trouble, even if he gathered all his Titan power…
Dante felt his heart in his throat. Just not now. Not now when in the hotel room, there was a silver suitcase lying safely on the table, hiding the content which could turn out to be salutary. He had to send it to Germany as soon as possible. Without any delay. He couldn't give up now, let all the efforts go to waste… Someone counted on him. There was no option that he could cause a disappointment! But what could he do?!
'Wait!', a clear, female voice rang. 'You still have to deal with me!'
Dante turned around to the podium where the deadly statue had been scaring before, now changed into the miserable wreckage. Among them, with her hand raised and her legs spread a bit, a slender silhouette stood.
'She's bluffing!', the enemy stated, putting into it the whole gathered contempt.
Dante knew where it came from. Zhalia seemed exceptionally petite in the environment where someone visibly voted for the monumentalism to give King Basilisk enough space and to underline his majesty. Besides, she didn't have any weapon, she hadn't called a single Titan, she simply kept still on her position, alone, like an actress on the stage, exposed to the blows; 90% bullets directed towards her would reach their target for sure. What was that girl doing?! Why was she risking so much?! It wouldn't do them credit in any way!
'Look at her, she failed to bond with the Titan!' Even DeFoe noticed her helplessness. 'Grier!', he gave his minion a short signal. The bruiser waved his hand, setting Breaker on the woman.
Dante jerked ahead, seeing the bear coming closer and closer to Zhalia, but he was aware that no matter what he had done, he wouldn't manage to help her in time. Every second was one leap of the Titan, just two more and it would catch its prey, tear her apart in front of the audience, like in some kind of ghastly theatre…
'I wouldn't be so sure!', Zhalia shouted, her eyes brightened like two jewels; Dante recognized the flowing power, usually her irises were simply hazel, never so intensively purple, unearthly, from another world.
'Make them tremble, King Basilisk!', she screamed piercingly in extraordinary voice, ringing under the ceiling like a bell. She raised the amulet high, like an ancient priestess performing a forbidden ritual, summoning the forces which mere mortals couldn't even imagine. Her hair started to flow around her face and twine like glistening snakes, and her whole body emanated such strength and authority that Dante mechanically stepped back, struck by this change. There wasn't a fragile, helpless girl standing on the podium anymore; now it was conquered by the dangerous, powerful beauty, who, using just one command, summoned beside her a huge, skinny, yet muscular reptile with big membrane wings, forked bluish tongue, pointed nut decorated with a crown of gray horns and glowing eyes, fixed greedily on Breaker; suddenly the Titan compared to King Basilisk looked like a teddy.
The bear howled lingeringly when his fur started to get heavy; every hair turned into a stone needle. The roar stopped suddenly when the throat also got filled by the granite. Eventually the Titan fell apart into dust and his energy came back to the amulet hanging down shocked Grier's neck.
'Impossible!', DeFoe choked out, observing the summoned monster with half-opened mouth.
Zhalia just raised her head with dignity, as if she had wanted to say: 'Not quite'. She made a step forward, approaching the Titan's first victim.
'You wouldn't wanna end up like this load junk here, would you?', she asked proudly, lightly tapping the sculpture. 'You have two options: A', she raised her slender index finger, 'turn tail and hope I don't send him after you, or B', she added the middle one, 'the pedestal in the other room gets a lovely new statue…'
DeFoe's face fell. He knew he had no chances – not against the woman whom King Basilisk listened to like a well-trained terrier.
'Until we next meet, Dante Vale, I will think only of your destruction', he hissed, backing slowly not to enrage the reptile, who wagged his tail warningly, like an annoyed cat.
Zhalia observed the escaping enemies emotionlessly, as if she had been above it. She treated King Basilisk – dwarfing her few times, devilishly agile and deadly even when he wasn't moving - as uninhibitedly, as if he mattered to her just a little bit more than a bulging-eyed Chihuahua. The whole team stared at her in disbelief caused by such a daring performance of their comrade.
The woman moved finally. In the twinkling of an eye, King Basilisk changed into a purple ribbon of energy and came back to the amulet. Zhalia brushed the violet gem in the talisman with the tip of her finger. Then she crossed the podium in a dignified pace, like a queen descending among the folks. She came down the first step, placed her foot on the second… Dante couldn't take his eyes off her fluid movements. Every one of them hypnotized with grace and charm.
'Why did you let them go?!', Sophie broke this mystical atmosphere, raising her voice.
Dante knitted his eyebrows a bit, but he didn't stop to watch Zhalia, who stood in the circle as simply as if the hadn't just tamed a bloodthirsty beast.
'She didn't have a choice', he justified her, throwing her a gaze of acknowledgement.
Much to his surprise, she didn't respond to it with aloofness, spite nor coldness. On the contrary, when she gave the stare back, her eyes were exceptionally gentle. Even King Basilisk's glare wouldn't make as big impression on him as Zhalia's eyes did, now normal, without a trace of the power flowing through her body, but bewitching nevertheless. She smiled lightly, gratefully, and Dante, though he didn't understand how he had deserved such a sudden change of her attitude towards him, accepted the smile with happiness and relief, admiring it in silence.
And he would marvel at it longer if Zhalia hadn't faltered, falling ahead inertly.
The same day, 19:14
King Basilisk's townhouse
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
Those seconds when I fall down seem long like an eternity, but not dragging. The surroundings become a thousand times more fascinating than usual; the colors dance around me, everything blurs, mixes together… For a moment, Cherit's tail grows from Lok's head and Sophie's arm converges with his shoulder. And then everything turns upside down and I don't have strength to keep myself up anymore. Nevermind; I just want to lie down and sleep, I've had enough for today…
When I already prepare for meeting the floor, hoping that for my moonstruck nervous system, it will turn out to be yielding like a quilt, someone catches me by the shoulders and pulls me back not to let me hit my nose against the flooring. I totter a bit, now I've got a feeling that I'll land on my back, but no; I fall onto something similar to a well-pumped mattress – not very soft, but also not too hard, great for a bedding as well as for supporting my withy-frail limbs.
'Summoning a powerful Titan like King Basilisk is exhausting', a gentle voice speaks up above my ear. Oh yeah, especially right after the period, it crosses my mind before I realize that the voice belongs to Dante and that something pleasant I lean my back on is his firm, worked-out chest.
'She bluffed?! No way!', Lok doesn't believe it, but I feel admiration in his timbre.
I don't give a thing if I made an impression on them or not, they should just stop blabbering and take me away from here, otherwise I'll go alone… I try to stand up on my own, but my legs fail me. Dante grabs me tight again, this time I fall onto him face ahead, with my nose buried right into his sweater.
'Don't overdo it', he calms me down, supporting me, but the same time not hampering my moves.
'Give it a break, I can do it myself…', I resist gruffly, pushing him away weakly.
'Not an option', he responds firmly, embracing me huskily.
'Maybe you should carry her, Dante?', Lok proposes.
Oh yeah, keep suggesting him such stupid ideas! Dante's about to lift me up, but I manage to hold him back, squeezing my fingers on his shoulder.
'There's no need to', I assure him. 'I'll manage. It's just a temporary vertigo, it won't last long.'
'When you feel faint, it may be too late for us to catch you before you fall down', he states. 'If you're not fine with any other solution, just lean on me.'
The alfa male, damn it. You can repeat something to him over and over and he still has his own point of view. He gently takes my arm, as if he was asking with his every gesture if I don't mind. Alright, alright. Maybe that's better that he doesn't want to allow me to go alone. I let him hold my elbow. Involuntarily, I place my head on his shoulder, just to let it rest a bit. I've still got the rollercoaster circling around it. Maybe it's due to that smell? My nostrils are completely filled by the aroma of the washing powder, which hasn't vanished from Dante's clothes yet. No, it's not intensifying my ailments; on the contrary, it helps me refresh, especially mixed with a hard-to-specify fragrance of manhood. Even if a sourish tone of sweat gets through the combination of shaving foam, shower gel and deodorant, that's… geeez, how nice this shaggy baboon smells…
'We'll be in the hotel in no time', he assures me soothingly, his breath tickles my ear, but I don't even have enough strength to raise my hand and scratch it. 'We're going. Slowly. Don't be afraid, you can count on me.'
'I'm not so sure', I murmur, struggling with my heavy, closing eyelids. I won't confess at any cost that right now I'm completely calm about it. Dante has his highs and lows, but he won't let me break my nut as long as he's nearby. He's just such a helplessly altruistic case.
The same day, 20:30
Huntik Foundation safehouse
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
'This key was in dad's journal…', Lok murmured, turning the item in his hands. 'Why did the Organization have it?'
'Can't be sure', Cherit admitted, also staring at the simple piece of metal. 'Perhaps they were both after the same treasure...'
'You don't think my dad worked for the Professor, do you?', the anxious boy asked.
'Perish the thought!', the Titan reproached him categorically. 'Your father was a part of the Huntik Foundation, you must never forget that!'
'He's right', Dante joined in, raising his stare from above Eathon's journal he had been skimming through. 'Your father was a good man.'
'Yeah, but…', Lambert hesitated, 'he had so many secrets… I don't know what to believe in anymore…', he confessed outright, 'or even who…'
Dante peeked at him askance and started soothingly:
'As far as I know, your father was completely loyal to the Foundation. However, as you remarked, he concealed too many things to make me stick my neck out for him. But remember that even the best ones have a bad day at times, still, it doesn't mean that one mistake writes them off. Sometimes they just don't want their precious people to worry like they do.'
The boy nodded few times, but he didn't seem completely convinced. Dante wanted to say something which would calm him down, but he couldn't find suitable words. Unless they discovered the truth, Eathon's motives would still be arousing new doubts and anxiety. The only thing he could do was doing his best to find Lambert and give him a chance to explain everything to his son and the Foundation on his own. Empty consolations were needless, especially because he wasn't a person who should say them. He would love to believe in his assurances himself, right now when he felt bad with his own inadvertence and wanted to have a slight of hope for forgiveness.
He already understood why Zhalia had changed her attitude towards him so drastically last days and he couldn't believe that earlier he completely ignored her allusions and obvious clues. How did this happen that he had forgotten about their appointment?! He had been supposed to write it down in his schedule, adjust some reminder in his cellphone, and it turned out that it vanished from his head totally… It was simply unbelievable. No matter how busy he had been, he had always been trying to keep the imposed commitments or at least move them to another date if need be, but he probably had never ignored someone so absolutely and ostentatiously, like he accidentally did to Zhalia. No wonder she was furious. She had the right to.
He just couldn't come to terms with the way it happened. After all, when he had come back from Iceland, he even wondered how the meeting would go, how he should treat his guest, what new things he would learn about her, if their talk would be as smooth and entertaining as until then when they had been left alone… Those pleasant thoughts helped him ease the fears focused on the weekend trip. However, later everything had crushed…
He sighed, rubbing his lids. Reproaching himself for his own stupidity only increased his tiredness, but he knew that stings of remorse wouldn't let him fall asleep. He couldn't forgive himself that he had paid Zhalia off like that, after her sacrifice. She was incredible today… She saved them all again, risking her health, and maybe even life. Summoning King Basilisk, she exhausted herself totally, and she still mustered up enough strength to trick the Organization. She played a tough one though a moment later she was on the verge of fainting…
He felt a light shiver coming down his spine remembering the smell of her hair when she leaned her head on his shoulder; with every step they had taken, he felt a fleeting touch of her breast on his arm and her hip brushing his loin. It hadn't been unpleasant, though… Dante was a Seeker, but it didn't mean he stopped being a man; he noticed attractive women at once. And, as Guggenheim said, Zhalia was one of them. Yeah, definitely.
It would be such a shame to lose contact with her due to a silly misunderstanding…
He should have done something about it, and quick. The longer he delayed dealing with this problem, the bigger it was getting and harder it would be to solve it later.
He straightened up, put the journal onto the table and crossed the room. Lok raised his head, following him with his eyes.
'Where're you going?', he got curious.
'I'll be back in a moment', he responded evasively, then, after a short hesitation, he threw above his shoulder: 'Fancy drinking something?'
The same day, 20:42
Huntik Foundation Hotel
'The Spittelberg'
Vienna, Austria
'I knew you would do it, Zhalia', Klaus praises me with such an enthusiasm that I barely recognize his hoarse voice.
His joy doesn't rub on me; my headache is too ruthless to let me jump happily to the ceiling.
'Yeah', I just murmur, emotionlessly observing the amulet laying on the bedside cabinet. 'At least that.'
'It is just a matter of time', he cheers me up exceptionally kindly, as if he didn't scorn me like hell for the delay few days ago. 'No one can resist you. Even King Basilisk himself. It is more important than this Vale guy, is it not?'
I stay silent; I'm a bit surprised by Klaus' sudden change, and what's more – his question doesn't need a comment, it's so obvious to like having King Basilisk more than anything else, I don't have to say it out loud. Or maybe I just don't want to admit that King Basilisk's acceptance doesn't adulate me as much when Dante Vale, despite all my efforts, doesn't pay attention to me at all?...
I twitch hearing that someone quietly knocks to the door twice.
'Zhalia?', a male baritone speaks up from behind them. 'Are you asleep?'
'No!', I respond quickly in a shout, almost dropping my cell; damn, how long was he standing here?! How much did he hear?!
'No?', Klaus repeats, stunned. 'What is the meaning of this?!'
'That wasn't to you', I hiss and disconnect before he manages to choke out anything more.
Just in time; Dante's head appears in the slit between the door and its frame.
'Can I come in?', he asks cautiously.
'If you have to', I murmur unfriendly; first, I dream only about sleeping, and second, if I wanted a company, I'd rather get locked in a cage with Breaker than chatter with this moron.
'I've got something to pay my way into here', he announces (why he seems confused to me? I'm still dressed). To confirm it, he raises a squat mug.
'What's that?', I wonder; is he planning to poison me?
'Tea', he responds. 'A great choice if you're supposed to fall asleep quickly.'
'Right', I admit under my breath, surprised by his gesture. Why did it come over him right now? He's got so many other things to do, for example reading the journal with Lok or examining the found key. I have already seen that the talk with me must lose against his various duties, and I didn't even expect it. I guess it also explains why I didn't give him a roasting at once. A killing migraine may be my another justification.
Dante, encouraged by my submission, slips inside and closes the door.
'Better wait until it gets a bit colder', he advises me, putting the steaming mug onto the table. 'I didn't sweeten it, but if you'd like, I can bring you a sugar bowl. There's no lemon, though.'
'No problem', I respond, a bit disconcerted by his unexpected kindness. 'I drink it bitter, without any additives. I hate it when the pips fall into it', I add incoherently. What shit do I talk? I haven't drunk anything yet and I'm already blabbering as if I was tipsy.
He nods, either 'cause he thought so or to signal that he acknowledged it for the future. Leaving the 'parcel' on the table, he doesn't have anything to do with his hands, so at first he slips them into his pockets, after that, realizing it's not very cultured, he draws them out, leans them on the top, then hangs them loose by his sides again. The minutes passes, I just look at my hands; on the palms, there are some red traces left by the sharp edges of the amulet nailing into my skin. What, are you expecting me to offer you a seat? Get lost, loser. You will stand up for some time, so you will become discouraged sooner and leave me alone, finally letting me rest after I saved your ass another time.
'I know I promised you some coffee', he says eventually.
Putting all the willpower into it, I manage not to raise my head. He remembered? So what was the whole tomfoolery for? What's going on? On the outside, I still stay unmoved, though I'm boiling from curiosity within.
'I'm sorry, Zhalia', he continues, apparently embarrassed. 'For everything.'
'Oh no, an ordinary operative shouldn't be offended that she was ignored by a superstar', I throw wryly, focusing on one of the semicircular spots next to my thumb.
'That's not it', Dante excuses himself. 'It was not my intention to ignore you. It's just… I've got a really tough weekend.'
'Everyone has a worse day', I scorn him. 'But you could at least call me, send a text. And you didn't even have enough manners to contact me.'
'I forgot', he confesses with a suicidal frankness.
'Oh, right', I smirk bitterly when my opinion about men's honor gets proved. 'So many banquets, interviews… Who would remember about a meeting with one plain agent?'
Dante finally gives up; he heaves a sigh. I'm surprised by it; he sounds as if something really bothered him. It doesn't suit his usual pose of a smartyass who has a method ready to solve everything. But if he thinks he'll soften me that way…
'Zhalia, listen to me for a while, please', he whispers in a worried voice, full of remorse.
…he succeeds. I won't slap his face; I sit still, pricking my ears.
'If the situation was normal, I wouldn't forget about our meeting for sure', he assures me warmly. 'I'd wait for it impatiently, as it was one of the better things which had happened to me recently. Despite your opinion about me, I'm not a superstar who seeks fame. On the contrary, I cling to stay the most ordinary of the guys. But… as you probably guessed, my situation isn't normal', he continues even more gloomily. 'I've got some serious personal troubles now. I don't mean huge unpaid loan, an annoying scuffle with my neighbor or anything like that. I'd rather not dig into it deeper…'
'So why are you telling me all of this?', I shrug; if you want to grumble, find yourself a psychologist's couch.
'Because you must know that I wouldn't give up the meeting with you for some trifle', he says sincerely.
I raise a shocked stare at him. He looks at me solemnly, his face is so serious, as if he robbed, beat and affronted me rather than forgot about one date. It just makes the signs of his tiredness worse. I should be happy that I'm not the only one who resembles a minced meat, but… actually, I feel pity for him. Just a bit. A tiny one.
Big enough to turn my head aside with embarrassment and throw in a excessively light voice:
'It's alright. Don't bother. What's over is over.'
'I wouldn't want it to end up like this', he shakes his head. 'If you give me one more chance… I promise I won't blow it again.'
We both fell silent. It gets embarrassing; only the clock ticks in the hall, as if it urged me to say something finally. But what? Yeah, Dante, let's go out somewhere, maybe even tomorrow! No. I know Klaus insist on me to speed up, but Dante deserves a punishment. I'm not going to sleep with him a day after he offended me so much. He should put more effort into it if it really means so much to him…
'So?', he says quietly, as if he didn't want to interrupt my cogitation too sharply. 'What is your answer? Would you be so kind to let me make up for my blunder?'
His expectancy fills the whole room. Though I don't see him, I bet he's observing at me. I almost feel his hopeful gaze piercing me from a distance. I move my shoulders when a prickle caused by this percept leaves goosebumps on the back of my neck.
'I'll think about it', I respond, but those words aren't replete with as much haughtiness as I expected. Perhaps I'm really out of shape…
I budge when his auburn-haired nut springs up before me.
'You should drink it and go to sleep', he states gently, squatting and reaching the mug out to me.
His face is right in front of mine now. There's no chance for me not to look at it; though I try to avoid at any cost, it's impossible. Finally I give up and raise my stare, as tough as I can muster, given my poor condition.
It's too less to set it against the magnetism of his glare. Only now, when we're just several centimeters apart, I notice that his eyes aren't exactly brown. Rather… golden. Amber. Like Solwing's, just milder. Warm. They go through me to the core, but it's not horrible. It arouses a tickle in my belly… which bothers me a bit, though.
I examine him attentively. He's still got a tired expression, but… it gives him some kind of a Texas Ranger charm; as if he was always on the run, always needed and ready to come to the rescue even at 3 a.m. He's got quite a handsome yap, even with the beard. One of the better specimens I've ever received… And those hands of his, so big and strong… Guys with hands like those just have to be amazing lovers, it's not possible that such fingers wouldn't know the caresses which make a woman boil inside. I imagine the touch of his rough fingertips on my back and a shiver shoots through me…
What am I thinking about?! I must be really sex-starving if I dream about having the guy, who can play in The Walking Dead, took my trousers off… with his teeth best. That's all because of my recent period, I'm always horny like hell right after, and I didn't have a chance to relieve myself lately… I'd probably pounce even at Freddy Krueger if he was around.
I quickly reach my hands out to take the mug; I almost drop it when it turns out to be terribly hot. I cover my hands with the sleeves and catch like that; way better. And now I have something to make myself busy instead of gaping at Dante like a halfwit. Of two evils, it's better for me to look at the reddish tea. I take a sip. Wonderful. Exactly the way I like it, if I decide to make it replace coffee.
'It's great', I murmur.
'I'm glad', he says and in fact sounds as if hearing it was a real pleasure for him. 'Finish it and sleep. You're exhausted. I won't bother you anymore.'
He stands up, sweeping the floor with his cloak. I fix my eyes at the tail of the brown material. Just don't look at him. Don't look and everything will be fine. He'll leave in a moment and you'll calm down.
Suddenly he stops and looks at me above his shoulder. He opens his mouth; I beg him to change his mind and just leave.
'Zhalia… Thank you.'
I have to clench my hands on the mug not to let them tremble from emotions.
'Why?', I whisper. 'I didn't do anything.'
'You did', he says. 'And I'm not talking only about scaring away the Organization. I… I'm grateful that you didn't strike me off. It means a lot for me. I'll try to make up for it somehow.'
He's about to go outside, as if he judged that he had already said too much. But, hell…
'Dante!', it comes out from my mouth before I bit my tongue.
He turns away to me, surprised.
'I…', I choke out and stop short. What do I want from him?
I want to bang him. Here and now. I've delayed it for too long.
I shake my head, angry with my organism. The end of the menstruation and the adrenaline after fighting both the Organization and King Basilisk's power really messed it up… I shouldn't be so impatient. After all, a quickie with a victim is never a satisfying one, even if it presages well at the beginning.
'You know, if I had been there on my own, I wouldn't have managed', I utter. 'But… you got me out of there, took me here, and helped me not to trip over… and then made me some tea… and even told me about your problems, though you didn't have to…', I flounder like an idiot, 'I… oh, well… just… thanks', I mumble finally, feeling stupid, weak and shameful. Who am I to say such bollocks to a guy who will plead for MY mercy soon?
He just smiles lightly, and the tremor in the depths of my abdomen only burgeons, gets almost painful…
'Goodnight, Zhalia', he whispers softly before he leaves me on my own. Dumbstruck, with a stunned face and a distracting, tickly thirst which can't be slaked even by a half-full mug of tea, slowly getting cooler and cooler on my lap.