10. Promise

The beautiful woman remained for two hours in the faculty café. Not because she had something to do, or because she was waiting for anyone.

She stayed there because she felt more secure. Not even during lesson hours was the bar totally empty, there were always students who missed lectures, or who were killing time between lectures, or professors with gaps or free hours that went down there to relax a little. In any case, she was never alone.

And being alone, in those circumstances, was what most terrified her. He would not attack her there, he would not try to kill her, not in public, not in front of witnesses. She knew him well. His persecutor was a professional, and the professionals left no trace, nor exposed themselves to be seen or recognized.

Or at least that was what she thought.

Two long hours with the empty coffee cup in front of her, with one hand surrounding it and the other on a huge manual on early Christian archaeology of the Cappadocia region, written by Dr. Selma Al-Jazeera, a graduate of the same university. An area she was familiar with, an archaeologist she knew well. Although at that time the manual was more of a distraction manoeuvre.

If she pretended to read, she would raise less suspicion. If she pretended to read, no one, particularly a man, would come to bother her. She'd already gotten used to the fact that it would always be difficult for her to go unnoticed, even with a scarf and sunglasses - but she could avoid being bothered.

A group of students sat at the table in front of her. The woman discreetly passed a page of the manual and pretended to observe carefully the diagrams of the excavation near Göreme from which Dr. Al-Jazeera had been working for years.

It was very easy to hear what the students were saying, carefree.

"... they say that in a week she's going to present her new thesis and then there will be a kind of reception."

"A what?"

"Big party, man. A night gala with cocktails and all the university's big shots..."

"A nice dinner for a thesis? When did you hear that?"

"Al-Jazeera has found something big down there. It's been years since they talk about anything else. I've heard..."

The student lowered his voice, but the woman had sharp hearing. "...she found Nephili!"

Another student, a girl, snorted. "Bullshit much? There's no way. It's a legend, dude. Those things don't exist."

"Well, National Geographic is nuts, girl. They haven't let her alone for months."

"As long as the History Channel and their aliens don't come..."

"What the fuck, guys?" Another one of the youngsters slapped on the table. "Cut the crap. What she found is lots of dead people. That's what I heard. Hundreds of corpses!"

"A special dinner for a handful of dead? What bad taste, man."

"Well, what else's left to an archaeologist? Ruins or bones."

"I've been told that..."

"What? What!"

"That Lara Croft will be there..."

A chorus of exclamations and excited shouts, followed by various considerations about the physical beauty of the British explorer the woman wasn't interested at all about, so she stopped listening.

Slowly, she slid her finger along the edge of the coffee cup, which still had the marks of her lipstick.

The Lux Veritatis, she thought. The horrendous cemetery of Tenebra. The victims of the massacre were going to come to light. And yes, if those remains were revealed, why not the Nephili.

She'd always believed that Selma Al-Jazeera was a stupid naive girl, a dreamer stuck in something that was too big for her. She never bothered to liquidate her - when she had the power to do so - because she considered her insignificant, much less than a fly. An ant, which was not worth the effort to crush.

But maybe he would crush her now.

"You're crazy, doctor." The woman murmured in a barely audible voice. "Completely crazy."

"You sure that's what you want?"

Anna frowned at the seemingly stupid question from her mother. "Of course! Besides, Dad already knows and agrees. I told him last night."

Selma, who was sorting some papers on her desk, glanced at Lara, attentive to her reaction.

The British explorer, with her arms crossed and leaning against the wall of the barrack, raised an eyebrow in a gesture of distrust. Kurtis, agreeing to place his dear child in front of two armed skeletons? Yeah, sure.

Anna blushed slightly. "Well…. huh... I believe he might agree."

"You believe." Lara sketched a crooked grin. "Now you're being honest."

"They're Lux Veritatis like him ... like me, Mom. They won't hurt me."

"Why would you want to go?"

Another stupid question. Her mother was acting really weird lately, not like herself at all. Uncomfortable, Anna shifted her weight from one leg to another. "Huh, well... curiosity. I've never seen walking skeletons!" She raised her hands in a frustrated gesture. "Not fair! You've seen tons of armed and walking skeletons!"

"Alright." Lara smiled slightly. "I'll talk to your father."

"If possible, without fighting, okay?" Anna turned around, shaking the ponytail behind her, and quickly left the barrack, leaving Lara open-mouthed with her impudence. She didn't have time to scold her, among other things, because Selma's giggle behind her distracted her.

"Well, as it's said... children never lie." The archaeologist murmured.

"I don't think, in any case, it's time for a trip to Egypt."

"Right? Everything is already tense enough." Selma looked at her fingernails absently, and then added suddenly. "When are you going to be honest with me, Lara?"

The British explorer turned to her. For a moment, the Turk thought she was going to raise an eyebrow, give her a dry retort or some other outburst with which she used to shield herself from annoying questions. But Lara just crossed her arms and watched Selma silently.

Now or never, the Turkish thought. "You know what Anna told me last night, when you sent her to sleep with me for your night watch?" Selma clicked her tongue. "She asked me if she was going to lose her father."

"What?" Lara exclaimed, suddenly perplexed. "Why would she?"

"Because you were going to kick him out."

It worked. Lara turned around, annoyed, and mumbled: "I'm not going to kick him out."

"You already did, Lara. You just need to send him away."

"Don't talk to me like that." The British turned to the archaeologist. A slow anger was beginning to thicken in her voice. "This is not your business, I already told you."

And suddenly, Selma got up, took three strides and stood before her, bringing her face close to Lara's. The explorer was still much taller than her and her muscular figure imposed in comparison to the delicate Selma, but the Turkish had stopped fearing her long ago. "No, it's not." The Turkish admitted calmly. "But the truth is that I'm done with your crap. I will leave aside my own career, my thesis and the fact that a murderer is around us for no apparent reason. Think of Marie, who's dying - and, above all, think of your daughter, who, although she didn't tell you apparently, told me clearly last night that she fears you might separate her from Kurtis."

Lara held her gaze for a moment, then, to her surprise, gave in and moved away. "I wouldn't do that." She mumbled. "She's very attached to him. She's always been." She murmured, more to herself than to Selma. "I gave birth to her, but she grew up close to him. Separating them... would be like killing her."

"What about Kurtis?" Selma raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't that kill him, too?"

Lara remained silent.

Sighing, Selma insisted: "Anna keeps telling me she's a Croft, that she has your last name... not her father's. She says that legally she belongs to you, and that in any file it's reported that she has no known father."

"Since when do you mess with our lives?" Lara jumped suddenly, now really angry. And why the hell is Anna talking about that? She thought, though she bit her tongue to keep it from escaping. How did Anna even know that? Was it possible that Kurtis ...? She realized, upset, that her daughter was becoming a stranger to her... or maybe was it happening the other way around? "It's an arrangement with which Kurtis agreed to from that day forth. To protect his anonymity, and to bequeath to Anna everything that's mine. He owns noth... " She bit her tongue. No, it wasn't right to talk about Kurtis' scarce patrimony.

More considering that he'd never wanted to touch a single penny of hers.

"But, if you wanted, you could separate them, right?" Selma opened her arms. "There's no legal relationship between them. Legally, Anna has no father. She's the daughter of an unknown father. That's what the records say, at least the one which she came to sniff at the hospital in Sri Lanka, when they cured her of her head wound."

"What the…" Lara ran her hand over her face. "What kind of monster do you think I am? And in any case, I don't have to give you explanations!" She turned her back and went to the door, but again Selma's voice stopped her: "Be careful, Lara. You've almost lost Kurtis, and you could lose your daughter too."

The explorer's hand froze in the air, inches from touching the doorknob. Then, she turned back to her. The expression on her face was terrible. "You want to know what happened, huh?" Her voice was cold, suddenly calm. She was scary, but Selma didn't flinch. She saw her lick her lips before continuing. "We had a fight. Since Anna manifested these powers in Sri Lanka, Kurtis has been acting paranoid, seeing ghosts everywhere, treating Anna as if she were a porcelain doll about to break..."

"He suffers for the girl..."

"...spreading those fears to her, after years raising her to be strong, to be independent."

"... as he suffered throughout his life, because of those powers. You can't blame him..."

"...so we had a fight. Thing escalated quickly, we lost control and he attacked me."

Selma looked at her, stunned. "What...?"

"Yes, he attacked me. Him! The father of my daughter!" She raised her hands and clenched her fists, making the leather oh her gloves creak. "He put his hands on me and slammed me against the wall as if I were a garbage bag. He sent me flying to the other side of the room!"

Selma had remained speechless, staring at her in amazement. Suddenly, she murmured: "I don't believe you."

Lara snorted. "Believe it or not, I don't care. So we fought because he's weak, he's always been, and now he will finally pass on that weakness to Anna."

"Weak? What do you mean, weak? Kurtis? The Demon Hunter? The Warrior? Kurtis Trent, weak? All of us here owe him our lives! The whole humanity owes him their lives! You too, Lara! He saved us!"

"His strength is only physical." Lara touched her temple with the tip of her finger. "Kurtis has always lived in a prison, a prison created by himself! His damned Order no longer exists, the powers afflicting him in the past no longer exist, but he's never been freed from them. And now…"

"...now his daughter is stuck in the same labyrinth." Selma shook her head. "Lara, how can you be so ruthless? Don't you have a heart? How can you talk about him like that? He loved you... he has... protected you..."

"I don't need his protection, or anyone else's." But her voice was weak when she said it.

"He's always been by your side! What horrible things you're saying! I don't recognize you anymore!" Selma began to spin, hands over her face, and suddenly muttered. "It's worse than I imagined..."

Lara crossed her arms, her face flushed with anger. "Think what you want, but I won't allow Anna to grow up with fear. I haven't wasted a single second in lamenting she inherited those powers. It seemed natural... we conceived her when he was still a Lux Veritatis." She hugged herself, trying to control the tremor that the erotic memory produced in her. "I won't waste a damn second to think or regret or wonder why she's inherited the Gift. What has happened has happened. What difference does it make? That thing saved her life! I held her in my arms, Selma!" She extended them towards her in a passionate gesture. "I held her in my arms while she shook like a leaf in that disgusting hospital, surrounded by all those unknown people. She was dying... And suddenly she was fine. I won't regret anything! Anna's alive thanks to those powers her father hates so much. The same powers that kept him alive again and again, when he should have died a thousand times! They are so welcome!"

Selma had listened quietly to her speech. Then, when Lara finished, she watched her for a moment and said in a choked voice. "You don't love him anymore, do you? Anna's right."

Lara remained silent.

"Oh my God." Selma covered her face with her hands. "Poor Kurtis. Poor An..."

"Enough." Lara muttered. "I'm tired of being the bad guy. Anna's fine..."

"No, she's not!" Selma slapped on the table. "How can you be so blind? She acts strong to impress you, so that you're proud of her, so she doesn't disappoint you! But you two fighting, her grandmother dying, strange things happening to her and as she told me, things aren't going so well for her in school either..."

"How so?" Lara blinked, surprised.

"How would you know? You've been stuck here for three months, doing nothing! You've abandoned her! Such a mother!"

Selma knew she'd gone too far when Lara suddenly paled. "What do you know about that?" The British explorer mumbled. Then she took a deep breath and continued: "Her father also abandoned her. He spent three months in the sun in Utah, getting drunk, or so he told me." She moved away from Selma again. "I won't talk about this anymore. It's not your business and you can't help us. Thanks, anyway, for your concern." And although she was honest, she couldn't avoid the sarcastic tone.

Lara winced when she noticed Selma was grabbing her arm. "What really happened?" The archaeologist asked her. "Why did he attack you?"

"I've already told you." Why the hell was she still answering her damn questions? "We argued about Anna."

"Kurtis has put up with you for years, even when no one could stand you!" Selma ignored Lara's murderous glare. "He kisses the ground you step on! He's always done so! Why would he push you against a wall? He's not like that, Lara! He...!"

And then, Lara relented. Releasing a gasp, she freed herself from Selma's arm, and, turning to her Turkish friend, grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her: "You always liked gossip, Selma. Your call is gossip press, not archaeology. Well, here's your exclusive, paparazzi." She mumbled, teeth clenched, a few inches from her face. "He proposed."

A thick silence fell between them. Slowly, Lara saw Selma's pupils dilate enormously as her lower jaw dropped off its own volition. The British explorer stared at her friend's wide-open mouth, from which, however, no sound came out.

"So, you see." Lara let go. "We fight, we yell, and in the middle of that chaos he grabs me and asks if I'd marry him. And I... I didn't react as I should." She looked away. "It was hardly the time or the place."

Selma kept looking at her with wide eyes, her jaw clenched. Suddenly, she closed it and muttered weakly: "He... he... you…" Breathing hard, the Turkish archaeologist took three awkward steps backward and collapsed on a chair.

Lara was watching her relentlessly, her arms akimbo. "What's wrong, paparazzi? Have you run out of questions?"

Selma covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh my God." She heard her mumbling under her fingers. "Oh, God, God, God..."

Lara sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You refused." Selma twisted in the chair, as if a red-hot iron had been stuck in her. "You had the nerve... to... you'd been able to..."

"No." Lara murmured. Suddenly, she looked immensely sad. "No, I didn't refuse. I was furious, angry, resentful and... " She shrugged and sighed. "I laughed."

Selma covered her mouth with her hands again, as her gaze transformed into sheer horror. "You did what?!"

"I found the situation so absurd that I laughed."

"... he... he asked you to marry him and you, you mocked him!"

"Yes." Lara sighed. "Exactly."

Selma leaned back in the chair and slumped her back on the backrest. She had a sad and horrified expression on her face. "Lara... how could you?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she shook her head, turned around, and finally left the barrack.

She'd believed that if she left in the middle of the crowd, she would be safe. Obviously, she had underestimated her persecutor, but she didn't find out until it was too late.

Until that moment, moving around in the middle of the crowd had worked for her. Her particular nemesis didn't like to call attention, as previously said. He was a mercenary, a professional killer, and even the slovenliest of the guild knew that calling attention was the death of the business.

That's why she thought that leaving the university in the middle of the student crowd and mixing with the tourists who, even in Christmas, packed Istanbul, was going to grant her usual protection.

She didn't count on an essential fact: her persecutor was insane, and after several years after her without achieving his goal, absolutely desperate.

Neither did she count on the fact that it was his last real target and, therefore, he didn't care to be arrested after murdering her. He no longer had anything to lose.

Of course, she didn't know this.

For the first time in a long time she allowed herself to be distracted, staring abstractedly at the Christmas decorations and wrapped in her coat, her hat and the scarf that almost completely concealed her perfect face: another added benefit of winter.

For some time, she flowed among tourists, inside and outside markets, alleyways and bazaars. She wondered why she was there. After all, why she cared about Professor Al-Jazeera's thesis? All this was linked to a part of her life, of herself, that no longer existed. Why keep poking around in the past?

To persevere, she told herself. To survive.

She had nothing to lose, but nothing to gain either - and in that inertia of her poor life, having something to do, or something to be interested in, was to delay a little more the moment in which to live would no longer have any interest.

Did it have it now, anyway?

She didn't realize the crowd had dragged her into the Grand Bazaar until she was under the roof and seeing the colourful stalls before her. She noticed the smells of the people and the spices and foods that were offered. Years ago, those mundane, mortal scents would have made her gag, as well as the more than inappropriate friction with those pieces of fragile flesh and counted days that were any human being.

But not anymore. Now she was like them. One more among the crowd.

And if she didn't act with caution, it would be one less. But she was so tired.

What is here? What do you see? Why do you want so much to live?

Life itself is an irony. The moment she asked herself that, her life itself almost came to an end.

She might have felt awkward and helpless, but she was still as smart as sharp minded. Her sight didn't miss the horror painted in the face of a tourist flowing with the mass in the opposite direction to hers, and who fixed his eyes on someone who was behind her.

The woman froze in her place. He's behind me. She didn't want to turn around to look. What for. She already knew.

She had an impulse to duck, to melt into the mass of legs that surrounded her, but it was too late.

A gun shot resounded in the middle of the bazaar. There were cries of panic and the crowd, terrified, started a stampede. The woman collapsed in the middle of that mob and was trampled by many, but that almost didn't hurt.

She'd barely had a few seconds to notice the right side of her head explode in a wave of pain and fire. Then everything went black.

It's over, she thought.

"No." Marie Cornel said calmly, and then fixed her calm gaze on her son, sitting in front of her on the plastic table. Between them two, the mortal remains of Konstantin Heissturm.

Kurtis let out a sigh and pushed the box of bones aside. "What do you gain by staying here?" He said. "Take Father's remains and go home. Rest well. You're very weak..."

"I'm not very weak - I'm dying." Marie made a vague gesture. "And I'm not going anywhere. I stay here, with my granddaughter, my family and waiting for Selma's event. I want to see the homage to the Lux Veritatis, and that published book. Then I can die peacefully."

"Is it your last request?

"Yes." The Navajo woman replied. "Regarding your father's remains, unless you want to do something particular with them..."

"I don't."

"...I will give them to Selma to be buried with the others, in the memorial they are going to do for the Lux Veritatis. He belongs to them."

"I thought you wanted him to be buried..."

"With me? That was before. Now, what's the difference? It really doesn't matter, for my land is not his land. If we're to meet again in another life, we'll do it regardless of where our bones rest." Kurtis didn't say anything else. He got up from the table and prepared to leave the barracks, but then Marie added: "You're right about one thing, my son. The dead don't matter as much as the living. You must fix things with Lara. Talk to her."

"Talk to her yourself, if you want to." Kurtis replied abruptly, turning his back. "I've already told her all I need to."

Marie opened her mouth to reply, but then the barrack door burst open. Zip stopped in the doorway, panting, the headphones still around his neck and the disconnected cord hanging on his back. "Kurt!" He shouted. "Geez, man, something big happened in Istanbul! Get your ass here!"

Images flashed quickly on the monitor screen. Zip raised the volume of the speakers: "...the aggressor, described as a Caucasian man, 1.72 m tall and almost 100 kilos in weight, grey hair and blue eyes, with Nordic features..."

Kurtis released a sudden punch on the table, causing the hacker to startle with shock. "It's him." He mumbled, teeth clenched. "It's Schäffer." But he wasn't angry, on the contrary, he exulted in satisfaction. The fucker had dug his own grave. "I guess the police didn't arrested him."

"Nope." Zip scratched his head. "Ever been to the Grand Bazaar on a normal day? You can't even see your feet. Now imagine that chaos. He escaped, of course."

Kurtis smiled. "Gotcha, motherfucker."

Zip looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Then he clicked on another tag he'd opened in the browser. "There's… something else. This is gonna blast you away, dude." He pointed at a text. "The description of the only wounded woman. Apparently, his target."

Kurtis approached his face to the screen as his eyes read the lines quickly. "Do we have a photo?"

"Nope." Zip scratched the back of his neck now, nervous. "You think it's...?"

"Barbara Standford." Kurtis read, and then snorted. "Doesn't ring a bell to me. She could be anyone."

"Read the description again, Kurt."

"I've already done it." Kurtis straightened up. "What are you thinking?"

"Same as you." Zip leaned towards him and muttered. "Description matches that fucking bitch..."

"Could be anyone." Kurtis repeated. "There are thousands of women matching that description."

"How many of them would that bastard Schäffer want to kill?"

"We haven't heard from her for years. We... Lara and me, have always left her for dead. For all we know, she never made it out of that hellhole."

"It's her, man. I swear it's her. Too many coincidences, and you know it."

Kurtis remained silent. Then he breathed deeply. "Is she alive?"

"Seriously injured. They sent her to one of the hospitals in the area. Intensive care. Oh, and under police protection."

The former legionnaire nodded: "Nothing I can't handle." And said it without arrogance. "Gotta talk to her."

"We gotta stay in contact." Zip started rummaging through his messy desk. "I've several communicators which..."

"No." Kurtis interrupted, and raised his hand. "I work alone."

The hacker rolled his eyes. "Kurt, dude. We agreed we're a team."

"This I need to do alone. Discretion."

"Man, what happens if that wacko finds you? Give me a chance. Croft and I worked together before. I'm more than just a pretty face, y'know?"

"That wacko finding me is all I want." Kurtis replied. "Only one will walk out. Stay here, Zip. You're more of a help in this place. And I don't want any communicator. If he kills me, you gotta get the hell outta here right away."

"How the fuck will I know you're dead? He can shoot you and throw you down the sewer, for fuck's sake."

"You will. I won't die without a fight. My corpse will attract attention, believe me."

"You gotta tell Croft..."

"You tell her. But," and he pointed a finger in Zip's face, "don't tell her about that woman, much less her description. Got it?"

Zip frowned. "Nice, hiding shit from Croft. We know what happens when we do that, don't we?"

"Lara's stubborn and unpredictable." Kurtis insisted. "I don't want her in this. I want to talk to that woman and get to Schäffer. The rest is irrelevant. And if you fuck with me and screw up my plan..."

"… yeah yeah yeah. Roger that. Whatever you say, boss."

He waited until the night to leave. During all that time, he stood apart and didn't talk to anyone.

In silence, he took out his soldier's pack, which he'd kept since his Legion days - an old sentimental stubbornness he couldn't overcome - and put in some clothes, food he could easily prepare in case of emergency, his faithful gun, a knife and some other weapons. After losing his powers and that, therefore, the Chirugai fell silent forever, he'd come to feel somewhat naked and a little helpless, but he'd never admitted it aloud. Anyway, that feeling had vanished long ago.

After all, he was born a fighter. He'd never been totally unarmed.

He also put in the Kevlar he sometimes wore under his clothes and which, in this case, due to the winter, would be easy to conceal, but he'd no high hopes about it. It wouldn't do him much good. Schäffer was a professional, like him, and professionals aimed directly at the head.

In fact, it was surprising that woman was still alive.

Although maybe it was just a matter of time.

For the rest of the day he devoted himself to slowly emptying himself of any thought, positive or negative, while he sat on the floor, his legs extended, his arms crossed over his chest and his back against the wall. Inspire, expire. Closed eyes. Slowly, irretrievably, shed all memories, leave the mind blank. It was a relaxation tactic that had always helped him before he went hunting.

Because he was also born a hunter.

He tried not to think about Lara, who didn't love him anymore; nor about his daughter, who was now at the mercy of the remaining demons; nor about his mother, who was dying.

Nothing, absolutely nothing.

He was a hunter, and now only the prey mattered.

When it was black night, he slipped silently out of his barrack and walked to where his bike was parked. He put the keys in the ignition, but didn't start the engine yet. He would have to drag it a few meters away to avoid attracting attention.

While securing the pack in the luggage of the motorcycle, he heard a twig breaking behind him. He turned sharply, pulled the pistol from under his arm and pointed in the direction of the sound. Then he circled quickly around the bike and checked the perimeter.

"Lara." He mumbled.

"No." A childish voice answered behind his back. He turned, stupefied, and saw his daughter planted on the other side of the vehicle. The girl had her arms behind her back and was staring at him. "You see, Dad." She said, and she was very serious. "You taught me well."

Kurtis let out the air he held in his lungs and put his gun away. "Don't do that again." He scolded her. "Could have shot you."

"No." She corrected. "You thought it was Mom. You wouldn't have fired."

"Anna, it's late, what are you doing up..."

"Where are you going?" The girl's voice was accusing.

As he approached her, he realized that her eyes were red. "Have you been crying?"

"Answer me."

"Anna..."

"Answer me, damnit!" She shrieked, and took a step forward, showing fists clenched.

Kurtis looked over her shoulder, toward the camp. "Lower your voice, I don't want them to hear me." And then looked at her. "Anna, I gotta go and you're delaying me. When I come back I'll explain..."

"You're not going anywhere." The girl said, and opened one of her hands.

Kurtis stared, mouth agape, his bike's keys on the palm of his daughter's hand. He turned abruptly and looked at the vehicle's ignition. "How did you get them?"

"I told you. You taught me well."

Kurtis took a step toward her, but then Anna stepped back and hid her fist behind her back. "Don't!"

"Anna, stop playing around. I'm in a hurry." He approached her, but his daughter stepped back and started to circle the motorcycle to get away from him.

"If you don't answer me, I'll scream." The girl threatened. "I will start screaming with all my might and Mom and Zip and the others will come, and your discreet escape is over." And then she inhaled deeply.

"Don't!" Kurtis exploded, and raised his hands. "Okay, you win. But give me the keys."

"Where are you going?" Anna had placed the vehicle between her father and herself.

"Istanbul."

"Why?"

"Serious business going on."

"What business?"

"I can't tell you."

Anna stared at him in silence, and then she burst in tears.

The ex-legionnaire stood watching her, astonished, and then went around the bike until reaching her. She didn't move away this time. "Anna, the hell's wrong with you...?"

The girl grabbed his waist and buried her face in his stomach while crying inconsolably. "Please don't go!" She sobbed against him. "Don't abandon us!"

How? What…?

Bending his knee to catch up with her, Kurtis hugged his daughter and held her tight against his chest as he rocked her gently. It had always worked to calm her down. Little by little, she stopped sobbing.

"Anna, I don't know what you're talking about." He said, noticing a lump in his throat, because he really knew. "I'm not abandoning you."

"Don't bullshit me!" The girl protested, and turning away from him, glared furiously. Her eyes were swollen and reddened. "I'm sick of you all lying to me, treating me like a baby! I know everything! You see? I know absolutely everything!"

Kurtis sighed and began to gently wipe tears from her cheeks. "No, you don't." He murmured. "I'm not leaving forever, Anna. I will return." I hope, he told himself mentally. "As I told you, there's an urgent matter I must resolve in Istanbul. When I'm done I will return."

The girl looked at him with a frown. "I don't believe you."

"What can I do to make you believe me?

"Swear it."

"I swear."

"On your dead. On the bones of Grandpa Konstantin."

"I swear."

"On your honor as a Lux Veritatis."

"I swear, too."

"A Lux Veritatis never lies, Dad."

"Never."

For a moment, father and daughter looked at each other in silence. Then, Anna said: "Alright. But what business...?"

"Remember that man who was after you? The one you heard that day that you were with Zip?"

"Yep."

"I think I already know how to find him, or at least approach him. I gotta grab this chance."

"What if… he kills you?"

"He won't. I'm a pro."

The girl looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then she nodded slightly, and put the keys in his hand. "Fine."

But Kurtis wasn't in such a hurry anymore. Goodbye to the relaxation tactic. "Anna, why did you think I was gonna abandon you?"

"Abandon us." Blue eyes, his eyes, were fixed on him. "Both of us. You don't love Mom anymore, do you?"

He watched her silently, then shook his head. "You shouldn't be carrying this burden. I'm sorry."

"Yes or no?"

"Anna, I'm very tired, and I have a long way to go. I can't deal with another of your interrogations." He rose, standing before her, and for a moment, it seemed to Anna that her father was tall and noble like a Greek statue.

"I will never abandon you." He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "You hear me? Even if you started to hate me, I wouldn't leave you. I've always loved you, from the first second I knew you existed, since you were only a possibility. I will never leave you."

"And Mom?" The little voice insisted. As he remained silent, Anna continued. "Y'know she had a fight with Aunt Selma? Y'know she cried? I'm frightened. I've never seen Mom cry before. But she cried last night, when she thought I was asleep."

In the gloom, it seemed to her that her father was bowing his head on his chest. "Whatever happens between your mother and me, doesn't change anything between us, Anna. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The girl said, finally giving up.

For a moment, only a heavy silence weighed between them. Then, her father embraced her again. Very strong. "I will be back." He promised. "Take care of your mother until then."

And he left quickly, pulling the motorcycle off, as if fleeing.