Before we begin, I owe you an apology. I haven't updated this fic for a year, basically because I'm now a mother… of twins! Which makes it exceedingly difficult to find time to write and complete what little I have left to finish this fanfic. However, I'll try to do it ASAP, because I hate unfinished projects, and I already have enough of these among my personal writings. At least I'll finish the fanfics. So, I'm sorry you had to wait for this, and thanks for being there, always.

28. Again

Kurtis woke up before dawn. Still in the dark, he didn't feel like looking for some clothes to put on and the pieces of his wedding suit, scattered on the floor with some haste the night before, couldn't wait for anything else but to be picked up and put away. Neither had he intention of putting on one of Lara's bathrobes, which were too tight for him and caused genuine outbursts of laughter from its rightful owner when he tried them on in the past.

Naked then. He shrugged.

He sat on the very edge of the window, staring off into the still-dark horizon. Long ago he would have opened the window and quickly smoked a cigarette, blowing the smoke out through the crack in the window before Lara woke up. But it couldn't be anymore. Tobacco was out of the equation. Forever. "And soon, alcohol." He growled.

It was an empty complaint. Truthly, he was more than willing to sacrifice what few vices he had left. Life was much more valuable, as he now appreciated it.

Kurtis reflected in silence for a long time, while some slight reddish tints began to appear on the horizon. By the time Lara woke up and saw him, a golden shadow on a burning ocean, the first songs of the early birds were already being heard. "What a vision." She said aloud, getting up on her bed. She wasn't wearing clothes either, nor did she intend to put them on. Yet.

He smiled slightly, but it was a sad smile. Here we go again, Lara thought. She thought of throwing a pillow in his face to cut off that typical thread of negative thoughts, but much to her chagrin, seeing him gloomy had always increased his appeal- and, therefore, her desire for him.

"Who just died?" She joked while she stretched out. Kurtis got up and went to her, but when he was about to grab the sheet that covered her, she yanked it out of his reach. "Oh, no way! Until you tell me what's bugging you."

"It's okay." He raised his hands in peace. "I've been thinking about Anna, and I've made a decision. It's not safe to train her here, as you have already seen."

Lara frowned. "If it's about Winston's greenhouse, I'm over my grief. Told her it wasn't her fault; I know she can't control herself."

"Lara, there will be bigger and more dangerous things that she will blow up. Here or there, in private or in public."

For a moment, she saw again the precious greenhouse that the faithful butler had cultivated for years with dedicated love exploding in a supernova of broken glass. She raised an eyebrow. "Fine." She sighed. "Tell me."

"Utah."

She sighed. "Are you sure you want to involve the Navajo in this?"

"They've always been involved." Kurtis shrugged "I grew up with them, remember? I'm Diné as well. Nothing that Anna can do will come as a surprise. She can't scare them. They know her, they love her. They won't ask questions - and if someone comes along to ask them, they will close ranks around her. They will protect her."

It was a clever idea. In the Diné land, Anna would be safe. Isolated. Surrounded by people who would die for her if necessary. But… "I still wake up sometimes at night thinking about what happened to Putai and her people." Lara confessed bitterly. "I don't want to bury anyone else because of us."

"The Cabal killed the Bedouins and Putai." Kurtis refuted categorically. "The Cabal's extinct. Personally took care of it."

"Except…"

"She won't hurt her. She won't even go near her."

"You sure?"

"I'll kill her if she does, and she knows."

"Then Anna will approach her."

Kurtis straightened up with a sour expression. "Why would she?"

"She'll do it." Lara assured. "Not today, not tomorrow, nor in a few years. But eventually she'll look for her. Bathsheba's too fascinating; she knows too many things. Anna will want to know everything, and she'll tell her."

For a few moments there was silence. The rising sun was already dyeing the entire room red. "Doesn't matter." Kurtis concluded. "I'll kill her the same."

"You let her go after you said she wasn't a threat."

"And she's not. Besides, I owed her that much. Without her we wouldn't have caught Schäffer. He was the Cabal's last real threat."

"And you'd still kill her if Anna comes near her."

"And I'll still kill her if Anna comes near her."

"Why?"

"What kind of person am I if I make a threat in vain?" He waved his hand. "Better an honest murderer than a hypocrite."

"You're not a murderer."

"Oh, but I am." And so are you. And she will be too. He thought it, but he didn't say it.

Lara sighed and leaned back against the pillow, her chestnut hair spreading over it. "Should have let you pull the sheet. This conversation's not sexy."

"I'm taking Anna to Utah," he added, "and when we get back, she'll be trained."

"Have you ever coached someone?"

"No," and a sardonic smile appeared on his face. "But there's no one else left to do it."

Then she realized it and sat up suddenly. "Did you say you're taking Anna? What about me?"

"You're not coming."

"Excuse me?" Lara raised her eyebrow again. "Are you telling me I can't go somewhere?" She snapped her fingers. "I own the damn world."

He was laughing. "You got better things to do than watch cows and horses fly. What about returning to your temples and tombs?"

She fell silent and thought as she tapped her fingernail against her cheek. "Shilah will kill you if you blow up his cows and horses."

"I'll make it up to him. Where are you going this time?"

"Me?"

"Don't deny it. I've seen you look at your maps and make calls..."

Lara smiled. "Charles has been telling me about a certain place in Nigeria…"

"There you go."

"… but I was going to refuse. Anna needs me."

"No offense, m'lady, but not really. She needs me. You're free to go looting again, but please don't get into another mess like the one in Sri Lanka. Won't be able to get from Utah in time to save you."

She rolled her eyes. "You didn't save me." She snorted. "Okay, you saved me! But I was already coming out of that bamboo cage."

"In which you ended up stuck by your own stubbornness."

"Are we talking about Anna or me?"

"We're talking because you didn't let me pull this sheet."

"Alright!" She shouted, throwing the fabric in his face. "All yours!"

Kurtis slapped the sheet aside and pounced on her, who stifled a laugh. She resisted him, but only a little, just enough to play around. Just that much. After, she didn't resist him anymore.

Barbara stayed up till late consulting the files. Long after the janitor had dropped off the cleaning cart at its spot and said a polite goodbye to her, turning off all the lights except the ones in her office.

Sitting on the carpeted floor and absentmindedly drinking coffee - a disgusting drink, but certainly effective, in her opinion - the now-researcher at the National Museum of Tehran watched, fascinated, the texts and photographs of ancient Persian linked to her lost race, and to the mother goddess of them all.

She reached out a foot and covered the relief photo of the Queen of the Night with a transcribed sheet. Nope, Lilith. Today she wouldn't haunt her dreams like usual. Not today.

She took another sip of coffee and adjusted her diaphanous veil over her jet-black hair, concentrating on a tablet that spoke of the first Nephili, although this term did not appear as such. So focused was she, that she didn't hear the creak behind her. She mistook it for the decrepit sound of old bookshelves.

"Blessed Daughter." A cracked voice whispered behind her.

She felt her blood run cold in her veins. Turning sharply, she caught sight of a shadow behind her and in two seconds she had jumped to her feet and backed up until she collided with her desk.

The figure raised its hands in peace. "No, don't be scared, Venerable. I'm not here to harm you."

Barbara frantically rummaged through her jacket for the pepper spray. It had already come in handy on a couple of unfortunate occasions. But she didn't have it at hand now. Perhaps in her purse, which was at the other end of the table. She looked there desperately.

"Don't run away, please!" The intruder whispered again. "See, I bow before you." He stepped out of the shadows and indeed, laboriously, he knelt. Just a harmless old man, dressed in an old-fashioned suit, looking at her with fascination while smiling good-naturedly. "Do not fear me, Blessed Daughter. I'm a friend. I'm a faithful servant."

At last, she found a voice to speak. "Go away." She mumbled, her mouth dry with fright. "You're speaking to the wrong person."

The old man widened her smile. "Oh, I highly doubt that, Bathsheba of the Nephili."

Her guts churned. No, she thought terrified. "I don't know what you're talking about." She mused. "Name's Barbara Stanford, and I'm a researcher and art dealer specializing in ancient Pers…"

"In the culture and ancient lineage of the Nephili, your relatives, your ancestors, blessed woman. We know you, Bathsheba. We've been looking for you."

She shook her head slowly, and without confirming or denying, she croaked: "Who are you?"

"Can I get up, my Lady? My knees are not what they used to be, and though I and all mortals in this world must bow before you, I would appreciate a little mercy, if I am worthy of it."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. This can't be happening, she thought anxiously, as the old man struggled to his feet, apparently unwilling to wait for her permission. "I'm going to call the police." She threatened, reaching for the gondola phone that was on the table.

"Oh, it wouldn't do any good. I cut the cable while you were away, Lady."

"What do you want from me?" She moaned desperately. Her mouth began to twist and quiver, the way she used to when she got nervous. She put her hand to her jaw and lowered her head, so that both her veil and her hair hid the deformity from him.

The old sycophant didn't seem to have noticed anything. "Answers for my Lady." He said affably. "We are an organization looking for you for years, well, and before you we looked for your father, and the man who protected him, heh, and even your ancestral enemies. We call ourselves the Men in Black, although, this is just a cover."

You gotta be kidding, a small voice sounded in her head. "Again, what do you want?"

The old man smiled. "You, my Lady."

"No! Leave me alone!"

In response to her shriek, he raised his hands again. "Please, Lady! We don't want to hurt you. We just want to give you back the place you deserve. You're meant to reign, Lady, forever - and we want to reign by your side." For a moment, silence weighed between them. Convinced that she was listening to him, the man continued: "It's unfortunate that the Blessed Daughter has been left so alone, without friends to support her or servants to carry out her will. We want to be that for you, Lady. You will no longer have to hide with a crude human identity, nor pretend to be a common mortal. You will return to the throne that was prepared for you before you were born, Lady, and this time you will sit on it and rule the world."

A chill ran down Barbara's spine as she realized the horrible truth. That man didn't know that she...

"Lady?"

"What if I refuse?" she snapped, her voice suddenly turning hoarse.

The man shivered. "So, the Lady prefers to continue in hiding, living the sad life of a mortal woman? How has it been for the Lady like this?"

Lady, Lady, Lady...

"What's your plan?" She said, standing up suddenly.

The sycophant smiled again. "The Cabal's gone, true, but we have more resources and personnel than the Cabal. We are already de facto ruling a world serving corporations, lobbies, and conglomerates of companies that in fact serve us. You will be our guide and leader, and with your powers you will give face and reality to that power. With your blessings, we will extend our dominion beyond the world."

"How do I know that you only intend to serve me, and not use me?"

"Lady?"

"The Cabal claimed to serve me but wanted to use me. The Mother of Demons herself said she had chosen me, but only to give birth to a new race of Nephili. How do I know that you are not more of the same?"

The old man bowed. "We are nothing before you. The Lady can burn us to a cinder as soon as we displease her, and we will be honoured by it."

Silence weighed on them again. Barbara, now more relaxed, shifted her weight from her leg and leaned on the desk. "Fine." She spoke. "It's okay. What's your name?"

The sycophant smiled, clasping his hands devoutly. "Murphy, my Lady. To serve you, with honour and blessing."

"Come closer, Murphy."

Trembling with excitement, the sycophant approached her. She was not just beautiful as he had been told, but much more than that. And that scent of lavender… they had fallen short in describing her. "My Goddess." He murmured fervently, the last words he ever spoke. Then he felt a terrible pain at the base of his neck, like a bolt of fire, searing, rending, and as he opened his mouth to scream, he found it full of blood. He could only let out a gurgle of stupor.

Barbara, Bathsheba of the Nephili, his beautiful goddess, stood before him, her right hand raised, holding a simple letter opener, the metal tip still tilted toward him. She hadn't let go after stabbing him in the jugular. His blood, thick and blackish, filled her hand and, dripping from her white fingers, ran in thin threads down her wrist and arm, drawing a river map on the white, white skin of her hand.

My Lady, he thought, with no time to wonder why. He collapsed to the ground, writhed in a pool of blood, and died.

She didn't begin to lower her arm until long after the agonized gurgling had died down. She still had a tight grip on the letter opener, digging it into the palm of her hand. Then came the tremor that took over her body. Her knees buckled, but she held on to the table. She struggled to hold back the vomit, but she ended up emptying her stomach next to her corpse, a river of acid mixed with coffee.

Then she sat next to the corpse, trying to collect her thoughts. "What a fool you've been, Murphy." She whispered.

He ignored that she no longer had any power. No one, no one should know.

Slowly, overcoming her revulsion, she reached out and dipped her fingers in the pool of blood. Rising, she went to the wall, a pristine white expanse, with a few maps of the Zagros Mountains that she tore off with her hands.

"This is for you, father." She expressed aloud and began to draw a large symbol on the wall.

"How long it will take?" Lara said later, resuming the interrupted conversation.

Kurtis looked at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his neck, a light film of sweat still covering his skin. He shook his head. "We've already discussed this." He spoke. "Months. Years. Maybe she's never fully trained. There are things for which you are never prepared."

She shrugged. "Didn't go bad for you. She'll be fine."

"If she listens to me…" He mumbled.

"Did you listen to your instructors?"

"You know I didn't" He grinned. "But you also know what my instructors did to me. That's not going to happen to her."

Silence weighed for a few moments between them. Then Lara sat up and pulled back the sheet. "If I go to Nigeria…" she said then.

"You can go to Nigeria. You've seen I can defend her - with my life."

"I know." She headed towards the bathroom. "But I hope you don't have to do it again. Nevermore."

"Nevermore." He whispered.

The glass remained motionless.

Anna sighed, rubbed her hand over her face, and concentrated again.

Nothing.

Come on, move on, you piece of shit, she thought silently.

The glass remained motionless.

She concentrated. She concentrated more. She forced herself not to blink. The tear ducts in her eyes began to sting. They began to burn.

The glass didn't respond.

"Fuck!" She burst out furiously, and she slumped back in her chair in frustration.

"You should rest for a while." Catherine said, watching the scene while she forced herself not to burst out laughing.

"Rest from what?" Anna slammed her hand against the table "I did nothing!"

"Your eyes are bloodshot."

The damn glass was supposed to move, right? Why wasn't it moving?

Dad's right, she thought bitterly. I'm not trained. I'm not ready.

"When are you leaving?" said Lady Kipling's daughter, looking absently out of the kitchen window, pretending none of this made her sad.

"Tomorrow." Anna said, looking at the glass out of the corner of her eye. "Early in the morning, before the sun rises. Dad doesn't want us to arise attention, even though we're taking Niyol with us, back home."

"And your mother? Is it true that she's going to Africa?"

"Yes. Charles has found an ancient shrine on the banks of the Niger with some ancient object... a painted shield or something. It's very valuable."

"Compared to other things she's recovered; a piece of painted wood won't seem like much to your mother."

"Oh, but she doesn't care about the artifact. What she wants is to explore again. She's bored to tears here, and the Navajo Nation isn't exactly thrill-seeking either."

Wait. Had the glass moved?

Nope.

"Sometimes I envy her." Kat sighed. "Must be wonderful to travel through wild and beautiful places. Well, I envy you both."

"Maybe at first." Anna shrugged. "But with time you get tired. Sleeping with the chance of a tarantula getting into your sack isn't very exciting at all."

Her friend laughed with that giggle she had, like a tinkling glass. "So you're not going to follow in her footsteps?"

"Me? No way!" Anna stared at the glass again. "I'm going to be like my father..." And then the glass vibrated. She winced. "Kat! Kat! Did you see?"

"What?"

"The glass! It moved!"

"You kicked the table."

"I did not! It moved!"

"Anna!"

"What?"

"Your nose is bleeding!"

She noticed a certain itching, yes, in her nostril. She rubbed her hand over her nose. A small red tinge appeared on her fingers. "It's no big deal."

Katherine sighed. "You want to get to C without having gone through A and B. You should listen to your father when he tells you that you should…"

CRASH!

The girl jumped back, shifting her chair a little.

The glass had raised into the air and crashed loudly against the opposite wall, shattering into several pieces of glass that fell, like tinkling rain, onto the huge kitchen sink.

Anna was livid, her face covered in a film of sweat and her nose bleeding from both nostrils, two reddish threads that snaked across her lips and trickled down her neck. But she was smiling.

She was smiling widely.

"Lux Veritatis mecum." She gasped, triumphant.

"I'll say it." The woman sighed, categorically. "Bathsheba of the Nephili caused less problems when we thought she was dead."

A thick silence fell among those gathered, the ten of them around the round table, like knights of King Arthur, only more worldly, and more sinister.

"She should have stayed in a fucking hole." Snorted the man to her right. "Murphy would be alive."

"Murphy was an idiot." The young businessman sitting opposite waved his hand contemptuously. "He was obsessed with the Nephili and with Bathsheba's divinity. He believed he could deal with her - and now he's dead. I'd say that I already warned you, but…"

"… leave it alone." The police officer to his left growled. "Don't torture us anymore."

The woman, whose name was Grace, turned her greying head toward her partner, a middle-aged broker, and said: "How it happened?"

The aforementioned leafed through some documents: "Looks like she severed his jugular with a sharp object. Then, she painted the Monstrum symbol on the wall."

There were several sighs and gasps of disbelief. "It's a warning." The businessman said, not without certain admiration. "Either we stay away from her, or she will recreate the murders of the Black Alchemist. One by one, she will take them all down, just like he did."

"Don't summon old ghosts." Grace shuddered. "Eckhardt is dead, and so is Karel."

"She's still there." The broker mumbled. "Well? Who does it?"

"Do what?"

"For God's sake, James. Who kills her?"

Choruses of outraged voices.

"Kill her? That's outrageous..."

"…even by our standards!"

"She's from the seed of the angels..."

"Immortal! The blessed crystal of the Lux Veritatis was destroyed…"

"... there is no chance to kill her ..."

"... we have been warned ..."

"Enough!" Grace burst out. Silence fell. The old woman resumed her speech. "You have chosen me as leader, so I will lead. We will not contact Bathsheba again, at least not for now. She has openly rejected us; she killed our emissary. Any insistence on that aspect would be madness. She's powerful, and extremely dangerous. We must guarantee her cooperation, but we won't make another attempt until we are sure that she has changed her mind... or that we have another idiot willing to sacrifice himself. Anything to add?" More silence. Grace turned back to the broker turned secretary. "What about the girl?"

He flipped through the documents again. "Our reports say that Anna Heissturm left with her father to go back to Utah, to Navajo land, after the private school incident. Everything seems to show that he intends to train her."

"And her mother?" The old woman raised her eyebrows. "Isn't she with them?"

He denied with his head. "Lara Croft is in Nigeria, looking for a new artifact. She seems confident the girl is well cared for."

"And she is." Grace drummed her fingers on the table. "Except that even that does not escape our surveillance. Well, any ideas?"

James snapped in a venomous voice: "Kill them. Kill them all."

Grace sighed. "Jesus…"

"Do what I say, stop fooling around. Kill the girl, kill her father. Kill the fucking mother too. Let's get rid of those people."

"You fix everything by killing, James."

"You want control? You want peace? Liquidate them - and that Bathsheba as well, let's test if she's immortal or not. The world's better off without them."

Indignant snorts, protests. "What a waste! To destroy such power, such talent..."

"… we have to convince her to cooperate!"

"Yes of course, as we did with Kurtis Heissturm, right? Have you forgotten what he did in New York?"

"Because you were trying to lobotomize him!"

"So what? He refused to show us his powers..."

"That was brutal. Are you going to lobotomize the girl as well?"

"No, you have to win her over..."

"Well, you won't win her if you kill her parents! She will come to take revenge, and woe betide us if she catches us in her way!"

Grace was pinching the bridge of her nose with two fingers. "This is madness." She whispered and slapped the table several times. "Enoguh! We will not take any action until she completes the training. And then…" She hesitated.

"Kurtis Heissturm must die. "James concluded. "I'm sorry, but it's the only solution. He will never cooperate with us; you don't know him well. He killed everyone on Alcatraz, left no soul alive, and the years haven't made him any nicer. If we touch the girl, he will go berserk."

"The girl must not be harmed..."

"Harmed or not, he will lose his mind. You were not there. You didn't see what I saw. That man…"

"He's not the only problem." The broker interfered, dropping the sheets. "You have forgotten about Lara Croft. How do you think she will react if we kill Heissturm? What if we take the girl?"

"Croft doesn't bother me." James made a vague gesture with his hand. "She's just a woman, and a mortal one unlike Bathsheba. Hire a good sniper, get the job done. Clean and fast, from a distance, a single shot to the head, and it is over."

Grace shuddered. "Now imagine the reaction of the father, or the girl, if we do that."

"That's why I say we must liquidate all three of them. Anything else is putting our head in a bear trap."

"No, no, no and no!" The young businessman banged his fists on the table. "It's power that we pursue, not blood!"

"If they refuse to cooperate, they must be killed! Or will they leave us alone when they know we're after them?"

"Enough!" Grace burst out again. New silence. "We'll wait for her to complete the training." She concluded categorically. "The girl does not control her powers today, and only her father knows how to train her. Kurtis Heissturm is necessary… for now. We'll wait for him to teach her everything he knows, and once he does..." She hesitated again. "… then, he will no longer be needed."

"Pew!" James hissed, throwing his arms into a sniper position.

Grace looked at him with disgust. "And then, to avoid retaliation, we'll get rid of Lara Croft."

"Pew, pew!"

"James, for God's sake, stop it. Let's at least be serious."

Once again, silence.

"She will hate us forever."

"Who?"

"Anna. She will never cooperate with the murderers of her parents."

"She doesn't have to know. She won't know…at all."

The silence thickened even more.

"She'll find out. She'll get us."

"In that case, let her come." Grace leaned back in the chair. "We'll be waiting for her."