In Pieces

by Suzue0Shayana

A shattered story about a woman who had lost something important during every part of her life. Will she be able to collect her missing 'pieces? 'Dialogues as sharp as thongs hurting your butt and as incisive as a bitchslap. Reflections as brilliant as a Vegas neon. Cliffhangers as violent as truck drifts' - at least Zhalia says so, you'll check it yourself!

4. Chapter 4: Tricks And Threats

13th June 2009, Saturday, 22:18

Jodis Lore's tomb on the central cemetery

Hradčany

Prague, The Czech Republic

Lok and Sophie's quick steps were slowly getting quiet somewhere in the distance. Dante breathed a sigh of relief; he was certain that convincing them to split up into two subdivisions wouldn't be so easy. Knowing the girl's attitude towards their new teammate, he expected a long, fierce discussion which could wake up the dead. If they started to argue again, Jodis Lore probably wouldn't stand it and rose from his grave to punish them for disturbing his rest once and for all. Dante wouldn't be surprised. He himself felt tired of constant explanations, asking, categorical refusals, getting his own way… He started to believe more strongly that he wasn't destined to be a teacher.

'I admire you', Zhalia remarked under her breath.

He turned around to her; it was easy to forget about her presence. Compared to his up-to-now Prague mission comrades, she appeared as the embodiment of taciturnity and composure. Even now, knowing that they were running out of time, she wasn't panicking; on the contrary, she seemed very relaxed, as if even the awareness of the threat hanging above their heads couldn't have thrown her off balance. Perched on the edge of the table, she stared attentively at the laboratory equipment, which densely covered the top.

'What do you mean?', he asked, observing how she lightly touched the graduated cylinder; her long nails clinked, scratching the glass.

'That you can stand them', she smirked, not raising her glare at him, as if she was fascinated with what she was doing. Dante automatically started to observe her slender index finger, circling slowly around the graduated cylinder's edge. There was something calming in the smoothness of her moves, contrasting with the tension pulsing within his body with every flow of his blood.

'I'm starting to get used to that', he only murmured, in the meantime noticing that Zhalia had very slim wrists, though they were usually covered by the sleeves of her blouse. 'I'm sorry I forced you to witness it', he added after a moment, surprising even himself. He didn't know why he stated that though it sounded a bit silly, it was also proper. If he hadn't say that, he would have felt somewhat unfair towards Zhalia. After all, he exposed her to Sophie's tantrums and unpleasant encounter with the Organization, he owed her just some apologies.

'Relax, it's nothing new for me', she assured him, suddenly taking her hand off the vessel and jumping onto the floor lightly. 'What do I have to do?', she asked, approaching him. 'I was supposed to be useful.'

Dante blinked, waking up from the stupor which took over him under the influence of the hypnotizing monotony of her previous movements. Under the woman's expectant glare he reminded himself why he was here. He nodded and picked up the explanation.

'You saw this, didn't you?', he touched the silhouette of the key, perfectly visible in the coat of dust. She agreed. 'What do you think, would you be able to make a duplicate?'

She peeked at the shape and tilted her head, wondering. When she leaned over to see it better, she brushed him with her arm; a shiver went through him, and it wasn't due to the mausoleum's cold. Zhalia's back blocked out his vision for a moment – shapely, with her shoulder blades joined together. Dante felt grateful she couldn't see him gazing at her figure; that was embarrassing enough as it was.

'It's possible', she responded after a while, straightening up again; she was quite tall as for a woman, she reached above his shoulder and he wasn't the shortest. 'But it'll take some time, and we don't have any in excess.'

'How long?', he asked a bit demandingly, wondering how quickly Sophie and Lok would find Cherit.

'At least an hour', she estimated, shaking her head. They both knew it was too long.

Dante scratched his beard.

'You're talking about the option when you would be using traditional solutions, right?', he investigated. She nodded. 'How about using Formtake?'

'How do you know I can use it?', she got surprised, furrowing her angled eyebrows.

'Let's just say I've got my sources', he responded evasively. 'Would you manage?'

'Forget it', she advised him. 'To use Formtake, I'd have to make an exact measurement, and I don't have any precise tools. Of course I could make a similar one, but it rather wouldn't work. Sometimes even thousandths of millimeter matter. One more or less and the lock won't open, especially the one guarding the treasure.'

'The holotome will deal with it for us', Dante drew out the mentioned device and lifted it above the key's silhouette. 'Scan this shape for me and create its three-dimensional model.'

The holotome brightened, sending long waves which moved left and right across the key's outline. Nothing happened for a moment, and then emerald beams directed from the device got formed into a spectral replica of the key, moving around slowly.

'Is it enough?', he asked, waiting for the verdict of one-man jury.

Zhalia looked the copy up and down.

'That'll do nicely', she responded with content, raising both her hands so that they almost embraced the pale green hologram; for a moment they resembled a paper lantern, lightened up by the celadon beams. 'Formtake!', she pronounced clearly in a sharp whisper, and then she caught her totally material creation with satisfaction before it fell onto the table with a clank. With a furtive smirk, she waved the key in front of his eyes.

'That's just the thing you wanted to get, mister Vale?', she asked playfully. He gave the smile back, it was hard to resist the sparks in her eyes, full of pride. Damn, what a stare this girl had; she could probably bend metal rods with a simple blink.

'I'm impressed', he admitted. 'It's pleasant to work with someone who knows the right ropes to pull…'

'I know even more', she corrected mysteriously, turning around rapidly. He wanted to say something, but he cut short, feeling her hand grasping the tail of his coat unerringly and drawing it aside without embarrassment.

His breast pocket got heavier; the key fell to the very bottom. Zhalia patted it lightly as if she was making sure that it was there; her hand, elongated like a cherry tree leave, with olive complexion, was barely discernable, somewhat fleeting, but it left a circle of warmth nevertheless.

'Just don't lose it', she warned Dante, keeping an eye on him; hazel and very feline in shape, with curled lashes.

They just stared at each other for some time. Zhalia's facial expression was inscrutable, but Dante had to admit it suited the entirety - enigmatical, coming from who-knows-where and still full of surprises. And every new one was getting more interesting… After all, there were two main things that Dante Vale had studied for most of his life and never fully discovered: ancient secrets and women. Nevertheless, he hadn't grown tired of researching neither of them. And if he was facing both at the same time, it was like a full package.

Suddenly, his phone started vibrating wildly; quite a necessary cold shower. Sometimes he just got too absorbed with only one of his foibles… No wonder Guggenheim makes fun of him every time. He shook himself, then took the phone out and quickly scrolled the message down, skimming through the info.

'They found Cherit', he announced, sending a short answer. 'And gave us some clues about Lore's townhouse. The Organization's heading there too. They have advantage – they're going by the car. If there's no traffic jam…'

'So what are we waiting for?', Zhalia asked, handing him the holotome. 'DeFoe won't stop at the red lights for sure!'

Dante nodded and taking his possession from her, he rushed across the chamber. She followed him. The patter of their boots echoed in the tomb. Zhalia stayed behind for a while, but later she came abreast of him, speeding up to match his long leaps. Arm in arm, they ran up the stairs and dashed into the chilly night, first through the cemetery, then the gate to get to the street. She didn't complain about the tempo even once, which he was grateful for – he got used to run in high gear. Besides, she easily adapted to different situations. She knew when she could loosen the screw and when to set her every sense on the mission. Now she didn't waste her breath for small talks, just followed him without a word, without any disturbance to the silence of the sleeping city apart from their steps and breaths echoing. Dante thought, again, that he had made a right choice. And he started to believe that Guggenheim wasn't mistaken judging Zhalia; not a tiny bit.

The same day, 22:32

The Road of Alchemists

Hradčany

Prague, The Czech Republic

Go-to-hell-you-damn-marathon-runner.

That's roughly how my thoughts look like when I try to catch my breath after a crazy effort of keeping up with Mister Road Runner. Of course I could have told him to slow down. But, damn it, I insisted on impressing him with my fitness and making myself believe that it's the best way to achieve my goal, way better than acting like a frail plant. Oh, just screw it. It's certainly a way, but to depart this mortal coil. Does he gobble nuclear fuel to work his hump off like that?! I wonder if he's a long distance kind only during running. Maybe he's a typical sprinter in bed?

I observe his wide stature, bent in half after such an effort, judging him like an actor during the audition. After all, I want to familiarize myself with him before we move to the more intimate level of our acquaintance. Not that I really care much for the emotional depth between me and my prey, but it's better to know your target before you lock it. Even thinking about his sexual preferences seems weirdly suitable; it's just, I have a feeling we'll be moving very fast with our so-called romance. I'm sure that the sight of a woman taking off his shit-colored duster was very suggestive for the primitive centers of Dante's male brain. After all, a statistic guy thinks about sex round the clock. Even if he hadn't expected that his vision would come true – you know, the tomb isn't the most suitable place for some hanky-panky – the fact that such an idea had crossed his mind would do my credit. Stimulating his fantasies is just a first step to wrap him around my finger. And there's no better way to arouse his interest than subtle, yet meaningful gestures, instigating his imagination to invent obscene scenarios. For this evening, I still have some ideas worth carrying out… just to see him bend and break to my will.

'Tsss… over here!'

We both raise our heads to see both Lok and Sophie hidden between the lower part of the cloisters, Cherit sticks his small head between them too.

'The Organizations goons haven't made it here yet', Lok informs us. 'We've been trying to explore the building, but it's firmly locked.'

'Even Farslip didn't work', Sophie reports.

'Don't worry', Dante says. 'Zhalia's made a copy of the key, the door is no problem. What else did you find?'

'We climbed to the roof, there's a lot of skylights up there!', Sophie explains. 'You can see the interior pretty well.'

'Though there's nothing special', Lok notes. 'Just a big empty room.'

'Let's see it from the inside then', Dante proposes and proceeds to the door.

For the next few moments, he's busy with unlocking the entrance to Lore's house. One thing I know for sure, and that does not presage well, he's not good at putting things in the holes. What I've prepared the key for if he's slacking off right now?

'Does it fit?', I ask, seeing how he fights with the lock.

As a respond, the heavy, wrought-iron door cracks and Dante opens it wide before us.

'A precise job', he praises me in passing before adding: 'Cherit, keep a lookout. The rest of you, we're going in.'

When we enter, it's just silent and gloomy for a moment, especially when the thin stream of light getting through a slit between the two casements of the door disappears. Jodis Lore apparently had a thing for such places. It doesn't stink like the tomb, but the indescribable smell of a place uninhabited for ages fills the air. I sneeze when dust gets into my nostrils, other don't have it much better; Lok went grey in a split of second, Sophie's hair looks like a pile of dust bunnies.

'Fancy a tissue?', Dante asks, sliding in after us, then locking the door far-sightedly and drawing the key out from the hole.

'Rather a surgeon's mask', I state, waving my hand in front of my face to disperse the specks. It doesn't work and even makes the situation worse; I feel as if I put my head into the full bag from the vacuum cleaner.

'Where do you guys think Lore hid the Golem?', Lok asks when he comes abreast with me.

'I don't have a clue, I can't even see a thing', Sophie says through her dust-irritated throat.

'It's time to change it', Dante raises his hand. 'Boltflare!'

A sphere of golden light jerks up and hangs in the air like an intricate candelabrum, sending beams into every dark corner and extracting all the hidden shapes. It's not difficult, given the fact that we are in a square hall so small that it resembles some kind of a cupboard. I wonder where Lore's guests (if he had any) were leaving their shoes, cloaks and umbrellas when they visited him. There's no room even for a coat-stand! If I had made two steps forward, I would've hit the next door with my forehead.

'Just don't tell me they're closed too…', I throw in pessimistically.

'Do you know anyone who locks the room and then the house?', he responds with a question, going forward. 'That's like unnecessary duplicating certain procedures… or being an absent-minded genius.'

'You won't tell me that an alchemist playing Prometheus and having so much to hide is a total ditz who wouldn't find his ass with both hands?', I retort when he reaches for the handle. I don't know what he expects. At one level, it would be better for my plan if the door opened, but on another… if he makes the 'I-told-you-so' face again, I won't handle it and this time I'll stick the key not into his pocket, but down his throat, and I'll force him to swallow it.

Damn it… When Dante presses the handle, the door yields so easily as if its hinges weren't hundreds years old. Vale can't hold back a satisfied smile when he throws them open and says in passing:

'Evidently Lore had a hard time in the lavatory.'

And someone is going to have a meal full of ferrum… Wonder if that would be easy to digest and then drop a deuce. Lok almost comes in but Dante lightly catches him by the elbow.

'Wait', he stops him and takes the lead. 'It's not safe to come inside like that. There're probably traps all across this room, and we don't know how they can be activated; maybe our presence or powers might ignite them.'

'Is it your concern just now?', I ask a bit snidely. 'You've just set this place ablaze with a freaking disco ball...'

'OK then, so at least we know we can use powers', he shrugs. 'It won't hurt if we double-check, though', he responds, taking out a gilt amulet with a green jade. 'Take flight, Solwing!'

The falcon Titan materializes from nowhere and hangs above his Seeker, waiting for his orders. Dante points the another room to him with a move of his head; the bird flies in silently. We are agog for few long minutes until Dante announces:

'It's clear. We're entering.'

The interior of the second room doesn't resemble the standard image of a townhouse. It's almost a chamber or rather a hall with a very highly-domed vault supported by towering columns. It's simply huge, the whole flat would fit into it. Lore could have invited approximately a hundred people and it'd still be enough room to dance. Though I doubt he threw parties here. A solemn, austere atmosphere reigns here, as if there was a sanctuary formerly… or a setting for mystical rituals. Apart from the atmosphere, however, the chamber is just a big empty room. Nothing there.

'So… that's what it was all about?', Lok murmurs, apparently disappointed.

'Maybe it was robbed before we got here?', Sophie suggests, looking around, at the floor covered with such a thick layer of dust that it resembles a carpet. 'There's no sign of that, no footprints apart from ours, but it might've been a long time ago.'

'The Organization wouldn't bother then', Dante denies with a crease on his forehead, 'yet they are weirdly concerned about this place… Don't tell me they just dragged us here to ambush us!', he hisses, looking around like a cat following a laser beam.

No, they didn't. Well, it would be nice if it worked out as a side job, but as far as I'm informed, locking Dante here like in a great mausoleum wasn't the main goal, not this time. However, I cannot just state it openly, that would look suspicious as hell.

Luckily, I've got a little help.

'Don't forget I was under the car!', Cherit chimes in. 'They certainly weren't there before us. I lost them halfway, but there's no possibility they went ahead.'

'They could've send some more forces from Prague headquarters', Dante argues.

'They don't know we escaped from the tomb', I point out. 'DeFoe still thinks we're drowning in the clay duct. None of the defeated Suits was able to inform him right away, they were unconscious. Even if there were reinforcements, it took them a while to get there and notice our disappearance…'

'Besides…', Lok raises his hand a little as if he was going to answer in the classroom. 'Don't you think they would've attacked us already as we speak?'

Dante looks a bit dumbfounded, but then he lets out a short snort of laughter, rubbing his face with his hand.

'You're right. I got a little paranoid here.'

'I'd say that for Prague, it's kinda… Suit-able', Sophie smiles slightly.

Some part of Dante appreciates the joke, because he laughs again.

'OK team, since we've got an upper hand, we need to press the advantage to the max. I've got an idea. If the Organization is after the Golem, we will give them one.'

'What do you mean?', Sophie pricks her ears.

'We'll use good old ploys, tested by the ancient heroes. A Trojan horse', he crosses his arms and looks around.

'We don't have a horse', Lok looks puzzled.

'Lok, don't you know anything about myths?!', Sophie loses her temper. 'They even made it into video games! After the ten-years-long siege of Troy, the Greeks constructed a wooden horse and left it as a victory gift to the Trojans, then sailed away. What they didn't know is that there were great Greek warriors inside of the horse and… oh, I get it!', Sophie exclaims. 'It's a wonderful plan, Dante!'

'We've got plenty of space here, enough to fit in quite a statue', Dante looks around. 'Zhalia, do you think you will be able to create a shell of one, big enough to fit both of us inside?'

'Both?', Sophie's face clouds with disbelief. 'What about us?'

'You, Lok and Cherit will be on the lookout from above', he informs. 'I need you to secure the place, get rid of the Suits outside. Me and Zhalia cannot face too many at once. DeFoe and Grier are our main targets.'

'But Dante…', she protests, but then we hear voices outside. Not DeFoe, but certainly some new Suits.

'We're running out of time', Dante is adamant. 'Fulfill your part of the mission, and we're gonna do the same here. Go! Upstairs and onto the roof, quickly!'

Lok shrugs and pulls Sophie by the elbow; the girl resists a little, but then leaves on her own, with a face of an injured fawn. Cherit follows them as if he had an engine in his small butt. Dante loses his interest on them; he faces me instead.

'So, think you can handle it?', he asks again.

'Don't know if I'll have enough material to form a big one', I shake my head doubtfully. 'The key was small, so even the tiniest grains of dust combined were enough, but…'

'Tell me know if it's too much for one shot', he insists. 'Better knowing now that later when we fight.'

'Don't offend me', I chide him, a bit ruffled by his assumptions. To prove my capability, I raise my hands and concentrate on gathering all the flecks of dirt into one solid state. They are painfully slow; guess bigger forms just take more time.

'Might take a moment', I say through my teeth, all tense in order to force the grains to move faster. 'Meanwhile, you can tell me the details of your plan', I suggest, 'Wouldn't it be easier to whizz through the room before the Organization does? Why even bother with a trick?'

'The thing is, searching through this whole mansion might take a while, and we won't certainly make it before the Organization gets here. I just think that if they already do know where to find the Golem, we can just follow them and take it.'

'They might be as clueless as us as for where to find the amulet', I disagree. 'DeFoe might try to bond with the fake Golem…'

'If that's the case, we will have to confront them anyway in order to win this place over. We should have some kind of a back-up plan, that's it.'

'Your back-up plan is getting into a huge pile of clay?', I raise my eyebrows. 'How would we even know somebody is approaching?'

'Solwing will warn us.' We lift our eyes at the Titan circling under the ceiling. Every minute his wings cover the light coming from the window in the roof, thanks to which we are surrounded by dimness, not a complete darkness. 'Then he'll hide somewhere under the roof and wait until we smash the sculpture up and attack all of the sudden…'

'The two of us and a small Titan is a bit too little', I throw in skeptically. 'DeFoe won't go easy on us, he'll summon his best pets. You won't tell me that one Solwing will beat up his whole retinue.'

He can only shit onto their heads, if only the Titans have to defecate. I barely hold back a giggle, but I remind myself that I can share that fate. I peek at the falcon warningly. It'd be better for him if he didn't choose me for his toilet, otherwise I'll grill him and eat like a KFC chicken.

'I've got some more friends up my sleeve', he smiles lightly, tossing another talisman. He catches the strap attached to the amulet, then I look at it carefully: it's oval, gray, with a shiny light blue gem and three white cones like Tasmanian devil's teeth. I saw such an amulet only in the Organization's database, never in concert. They're extremely rare and only a few can obtain them, but they're hard to mistake for anything else. I can't believe my eyes…

'Don't tell me that it's…', it comes from my mouth before I bite my lip. I barely resist the temptation to break the Formtake spell and clench my fingers around the gem.

'Yes, it's Caliban', Dante admits, carefully hanging the amulet down his neck.

A real Caliban – attack: 8, defense: 6, type: Meso-Titan Warrior, size: average, special ability: weapon change… A great find for every ambitious Seeker. And he's waving it around as if he found it in the chips. Given the fact that he denied being careless many times, I assume that such behavior stem from his inflated ego. Though any sign of excessive pride doesn't sound in his voice when he continues:

'Him and your Kilthane will be a great striking force, and…'

'Hey, hey, wait a sec', I interrupt him. 'How do you know all of this? I haven't summoned Kilthane in your presence. And I haven't used Formtake as well. However…', I pierce him with my suspicious glare. 'Can you enlighten me?'

'You forget we've got a mutual acquaintance', he informs me. 'Guggenheim. He was delighted to hear that we work together, and he was kind enough to share some data.'

Oh yeah, right. It all makes sense. That Swiss potato probably babbled to him about everything. I only hope that he didn't spill the beans and tell him that once I also was very interested in him.

4th April, 2006, Tuesday, 10:15

Manhattan

New York City, the USA

'Guggenheim?', I started, leaving my espresso, sipped in the American pub. It was a very sultry Spring morning, not long after I joined the Foundation, during the break in acquainting myself with the Huntik operation under the tutelage of its portly chief. 'Can I have a question?'

'Of course, go for it', the fair-haired plump encouraged me, noshing his sausages with elan. If I weighed so much, I would resign from stuffing myself with another portions of fat, but he apparently wasn't afraid of the high cholesterol level in his organism.

'What's up with those patters about Dante Vale?', I asked, playing with my spoon. 'Today I heard someone mentioning that topic again and I didn't get what's the matter. Is it some kind of a Foundation joke? Like, about a local mascot? Some 'John Smith' equivalent?', I added lightly, with a bit of mild leniency. After all, then I had to pretend that the whole story about Titans, powers and secret societies are a total novelty for me, which I just approached in the Foundation; I couldn't reveal too much knowledge on how important Dante Vale was.

'A mascot!', the fatso laughed heartily. 'I'd like to see his face if he heard that!'

'So it's an authentic person, isn't it?', I investigated, acting genuinely surprised.

'Oh yes, by all means!', he nodded, carving another piece. 'Everyone in the Foundation knows Dante. Even if someone has only heard about him. In 2005, he was appointed the top Huntik operative and since then no one has deposed him. A great fellow, he's really worth meeting.'

'So why haven't I met him yet?', I wondered. 'Or maybe I did? Oh my God', I facepalm hard, staring at the content of my cup, then raising my eyes at Guggenheim, 'don't tell me it's a game you play on every newbie, Guess which one is Dante Vale kind of stuff… and then look as they make fools of themselves yelling at the guy by the copy machine. We could even pass each other by on the corridor…', I pretended to be a slightly overreacting noob who was afraid of compromising herself in front of the crowd's idol.

'No, no, don't worry', he laughed at the idea. 'Although maybe that would be worth trying. However, it's hardly possible to bump into Dante in America', he calmed me down. 'He's more of the Europe branch member. And now he's… let's just say he's on a break. For an indefinite period.'

'There are leaves in the Foundation?', I picked up; as if the newbie had thought only about holidays.

'When you'll establish your reputation equally to his, you'll decide it yourself', he winked at me.

'Why did he resign at the height of his career?', I got interested, making it sound like a normal curiosity, not investigation.

Guggenheim got confused a bit.

'That's not a public information', he said, putting his cutlery aside for a while. 'Forgive me, Zhalia, but I'd rather not pore over it', he addressed me apologetically. 'First – as the superior, I can't give away all the Foundation secrets; second – it's unseemly for me as a friend.'

'Oh, so you're friends', I nodded with understanding. That's better. You'll be a better source of information.

'For a long time, I've met him when he was a teenager', he added with a slight hesitation, as if he didn't want to look like an old geezer in my eyes. 'You could hardly believe it, he's wise beyond his years. And it's also difficult to dislike him, his sense of humor always cracks me up. A great fellow, I hope you'll see it yourself someday, but it's impossible for now.'

'Sure, I understand', I responded meekly, coming back to my coffee, though I wanted to smash the cup against the ground so badly. I had a mine of information in front of me but he made a vow of silence… But slowly. You can reach some facts even taking the roundabout way…

'All right', he swallowed the last piece and cleaned his mouth with a napkin, 'let's get back to work. I'll show you few Foundation codes now…'

13th June, 2006, Saturday, 22:41

Jodis Lore's townhouse

The Road of Alchemists

Hradčany

Prague, The Czech Republic

'Zhalia?', Dante's voice shakes me off the pensiveness. 'I hope you're not holding against me that I asked Guggenheim about you?', he asks with concern. 'I just wanted to prepare some tactics, and it wouldn't work without any info. And you don't have anything to be ashamed of, only successes recorded', he adds in passing, but meaningfully.

Well, well, tell me about it. Besides, I also looked through your papers. From cover to cover. It took me some time, but I had plenty of it when I finally became a Huntik operative with full rights. With my cleverness, I didn't even need Guggenheim to obtain the essential data.

'Of course not', I answer charmingly. 'I should rather be proud that Dante Vale himself expended his attention on me…', I add only with a touch of irony and a lot of seductive blandishment. 'You're a living legend, after all. So enigmatical that some people even wonder if you exists. I was one of them too. When I joined the Foundation, you'd just vanished.'

'Oh, right…', his face gets morose or it's just Solwing shading the window again? 'I must've settled some matters.'

'For three years?', I throw in smoothly.

'It'd have lasted a lot longer if not a visit of one kid with a very important journal', he parries with emphasis, creating more distance between us as he started to walk around the forming statue, which was getting thicker and thicker by seconds; reaching up to Dante's chest.

Seems like he thought that the talk was finished. Or as if he wanted me to think so.

'I get it. I didn't want to be intrusive', I say apologetically, though I don't feel any repentance. I just know that a cultured, well-mannered lady should say so.

'It's fine', he only responds. 'Let's just leave it, we've got something to do', he says as he examines the fake Golem, kneeling down next to the sculpture with his back exposed to me. He pokes it cautiously and knocks onto the surface. 'I think this will be enough. We want it to break easily, after all.

'OK', I lower my hands, breaking the energy channel; I'm glad it's over, I don't think I could do much more anyway, there's still a limit to such complicated powers, and I used it twice today.

'You OK?', Dante checks in one me, eyeing me up and down.

'No sweat', I respond, squatting down next to him. 'This guy looks far worse', I shake my head at the huge, gray lump of stone; quite a shapeless mass, apart from roughly human feet, hands and features – just approximately ten times bigger and more grotesque, as if it was modeled by an incapable child. 'Sorry, I'm not much of an artist, and I cut on design anyway.'

'I'm glad you did, it's gonna be ruined anyway', he says. 'OK, let's go inside.'

'How are you going to open it and then close again without any trace?'

'I thought we would use Touchram and then you'll fix the sculpture with Formtake', he proposes. 'But only if it won't exhaust you too much…'

'Don't underestimate me, I respond in a voice which doesn't sound offended, though, and sweeten it with a smile.

'I'm sorry', he gives the smile back, getting that I'm only joking. 'So, on three?'

'Alright. Just don't overdo it.'

'That's not me who forced the hotel door open', he makes a harmless remark. 'One…', he starts, not waiting for my reaction.

'Two…', I join in.

'Three!'

'TOUCHRAM!'

A stream of green energy strikes the statue's side and crumbles a considerable hole, big enough for us to worm through it with some effort. Now the sculpture looks like a patient on the operating table, prepared for the surgery, with its belly cut open and loose bowels flowing out from it in shape of clay crusts.

'See, I can do it gently too', I accentuate. 'But will we really fit into it?', I add doubtfully, looking into the darkness of our future hideout.

Dante doesn't answer; suddenly he tenses and peeks at Solwing, fluttering in the shade of the ceiling beams.

'DeFoe's already here, he's gonna open the door', he warns me. 'Come on inside!'

He doesn't give me a second to react, just pushes me into the sculpture. At first I resist mechanically – stuffy air and fustiness is my first association with an empty colossus – but I have no chance to go back, with Dante behind me, urging me to hurry up. Willy-nilly, I let the darkness in the quasi-golem's stomach swallow me. Vale squeezes himself in right after me, I hear a short hiss when he hits his forehead against the clay vault. I have to back myself to the very wall to let him pull his legs inside; he's a big lad and when he finally hides his whole body, his arm pushes me against the clay surface.

'It's a bit cramped', I notice with my breath in.

'Sorry', he responds. 'I can't move aside.'

'You don't have a choice, I must cover the exit somehow', I say, turning aside to take less space. Then I lean on my arm and get up, bumping my forehead, and stick out towards the light, balancing over Dante's body. But… why not to make a small scene? I move my hand and pretending that I had slipped on his duster, I fell right onto his chest, hitting it with my belly.

'Sorry', I throw to him, though I triumph in my mind. 'There's no other way. Just hold on for a sec.'

He nods, not even moaning from pain. He has some hunky chest. Few additional exercises won't harm him, he can carry me for a little more. I move just a tiny bit forward, deliberately brushing my breast against his arm. He trembles a little, I can see in the dimness what look he throws at it. Yeah, yeah. You're not a hero or anything. You're just a man who gets wired by tits.

'Formtake!', I whisper sharply, with a tune of triumph, and the pieces of clay jump onto their places nicely, blocking out our only source of light.

I try to go back but this time it's so dark around that I constantly bump into another part of Dante's body, and now not on purpose. It'd be funny if I laid my hand on his crotch. Then I'd know for sure how much he likes me… Unluckily, before I can put this plan into practice, I feel that both his hands clench onto my waist and pull me back to my place.

'Don't move', he whispers so quietly that almost noiselessly, but my sense of hearing is set so sensitively that I'd hear a moth's flight.

Damn, it's easy to say, harder to do. Let him try to lie for a while with an oddly twisted pelvis, one leg bent and the other unnaturally straightened up, and one elbow stuffed under my butt, additionally. However… He also doesn't seem very comfortable when my hair tickle his neck and I almost press my nose against his collarbone. With some kind of surprise I notice that he smells nice. As if he didn't even sweat after all the running. He must have a long-lasting antiperspirant.And a good washing-powder, 'cause his sweater, though seems a bit worn-out, still stays soft to the touch.

Oh my, how those seconds drag… Though my sacrum hurts, a stream of sweat annoyingly slides down my temple and I'll develop claustrophobia soon, I don't dare to move or to breathe louder. Especially because even through the thick walls of the quasi-golem, the steps rumbling in the huge chamber and excited voices reach my ears. It pisses me off a bit that it's Dante who will give a signal to attack – I could propose my Gareon instead of his Solwing, then I would lead.

Colorful spots start to flicker in front of my eyes. That's probably due to staring into the darkness, my sight starts to play pranks. But not, the blue grows stronger. Dante grasps my elbow, giving me the signal. I tense, focus all my gathered energy and…

'Touchram!'

The clay colossus falls apart into small pieces, finally letting us breathe freely and stretch our legs. I jump aside from Dante, we both spring to our feet and raise our guard. The explosion's impact threw DeFoe and few Suits onto the walls; they sank onto the floor inertly. Only Grier somehow managed to keep standing, but it's hard to move such a muscleman, I didn't expect miracles. Besides, DeFoe also pulls himself quickly as for such a wimp.

'I don't know what grudge you have against me, DeFoe, but it's about to get a lot worse!'

Oh great, what an idea, Dante itched to make a quote like from Indiana Jones.

'Dante, don't give them time to recover!', I remind him, holding back an urge to add emphatically: 'You idiot!' at the end.

He takes out the strap with the amulet without hesitation and shouts:

'I invoke Caliban!'

A blue circle of energy appears from nowhere and in a blink of an eye, it forms a silhouette. It's hard for me to take my eyes off an Aztec warrior arising in front of me, with a mane of white hair, from head to toe covered in leather and metal armor incrusted with gold and bones, furthermore, with a crooked sword in his hands. Such a sight happens rarely. However, I know I have something to do, so I find my own amulets.

'Gareon! Kilthane!'

The small gecko-Titan and the dark knight, who would frighten just with his shield with a painted dragon, join Caliban.

'Attack!', Dante orders, marking Grier as his target while Kreutalk aims at me.

I dodge the stream of green acid and landing on the ground with both feet, I direct Raypulse to DeFoe, hoping that this time I won't miss and burn a hole onto his ass. This bastard shields himself with Honorguard. Meanwhile, the Suits charge at Kilthane. There's nothing better than fair play, two women at single guy… but my Titan can handle opponents like those, he's a defense specialist. Dante fights well too. I didn't expect him to stand up to Grier, but he keeps up with him and the boys even have some time to talk… At some point Dante even trips the fair-haired hulk up.

'How about some under-job training?', he remarks mockingly.

I smile to myself. I told you he's a cocky bastard.

'Zhalia!', he shouts warningly before he dashes into the fight with Grier again, only his cloak hums in the air.

I cover myself with Armorbrand automatically; just in time before the Suit's blow hits me. Kilthane backs down, ready to defend me. DeFoe pushes from the other side. Apparently, he insisted on assaulting me. Gareon climbs up my arm and sends beams of energy to him. The freak runs aside, I correct Gareon's strike with Augerfrost, DeFoe shelters himself again and sets Kreutalk against me. I duck the toxin nimbly, it leaves a wet, smoky spot on the floor. Directing spells and parrying the blows, I also spot out a noise in the corridor. O-oh, if the Organization calls the reinforcements, we're screwed.

'Poisonfang!'

The hell! Gareon jumps out of my shoulder and becomes invisible; DeFoe's charm would sweep him out, but he missed by a whisker. I parry the strike, but only by millimeters, then I have to strengthen the barrier under a rain of bullets, coming closer and closer to Dante. Few steps away Caliban tries to get rid of Breaker; he makes a dripping slash, but Kreutalk's acid hits him in the same time. Titan writhes in agony, and then the huge bear captures him and chokes in his grip. He announces his victory with a piercing roar. Caliban's done. I admit I expected something more…

'Things're getting sticky…', Dante remarks, grimacing a bit when Titan's power comes back to the amulet.

'Lok's hurt too!'

Sophie? What's she doing here?! And also the ninny who causes more troubles than benefits again! They were supposed not to interfere and now it turns out that instead of watching out for ourselves, we will have to look after the snotnoses getting underfoot. And furthermore, one of them brought few new Suits with her…

'We've got to do something!', the girl adds. Such a shame she didn't think about it before she left Lok alone and gave the advantage to the Organization, dragging those guys from the hall.

'Was this part of your plan, Dante?!', I vent my bad mood on Vale, as if it was all because of him. It is, partially. What was the whole Caliban performance for if they finished him off in the first instance?

'Now, press the advantage!', DeFoe orders to his men.

And the playing starts.

The spells fly in the air as thickly as the dust falling down from everywhere. We bustle about feverishly, dodging the blows and at the same time trying to tip the balance in our favor with few efficient charms. We've got slim chances, but well, it's worth trying. I won't give up so easily. The worse it becomes for us, the more fiercely I lash around, because I get really furious. Why does this idiot DeFoe fight seriously?! I know that either way I'll be on the winning side, but it's not only about getting the Golem! My mission was supposed to last way longer than this! Why does he want to screw it up at any cost?!

The Organization's forces push us harder and harder. The efforts of Kilthane and Sabriel (which was brought here by Sophie) go to waste. This twit at least summoned a Titan, and Dante seems to slacken completely! He doesn't even aim at the Suits, just defends himself, maneuvering near the wall opposite to the door. Our Titans double the work now, blocking all the Raypulses and Augerfrosts.

I give out a painful moan when Breaker finishes Kilthane off. Sabriel stands in front of us and adopts the posture of a fencer. It's not the time for such poses…

'Looks like my Sabriel is our last heavy hitter', Sophie notices. As if it was something to be happy about.

'She seems a little light to me', I throw her off balance dryly.

DeFoe beams. I'm not surprised, if I saw only one Titan on my way, I'd also leap with joy.

'Victory is in my…', he starts and then he falls flat at his face, kicked into the cheek with a trainer.

'Lok!', Sophie shouts, raising her head. I also look up and my jaw drops. The kid summoned Kipperin?! But even Dante said it wouldn't go as smoothly as with Freelancer! Meanwhile young Lambert floats in the air onto the wings of the moth-like Titan, which entwines him with its tentacles like a living paraglide.

'You're gonna have to be a lot quicker than that!', he mocks the Suits, diving to them. He draws all their attention. 'Too slow!', he taunts them when DeFoe's men send at him a bunch of inaccurate spells, forgetting about us.

Well, almost.

On Grier's instruction, Breaker prepares to attack, but Dante, praising Lok nonchalantly, calls the forgotten Solwing back from near the ceiling. The large bear can't underestimate the falcon's sharp claws, reaching to his eyes. If the Titan is busy, I'll take care of his master.

'Gareon!', I call my favorite pet, who at my order becomes visible again and aims at Grier, striking him with energy from behind. The hulk writhes in pain and exposes his weak spots, what I make a good use of immediately. Seeing that I took the hardest enemy for myself, Lok handles the Suits, tripping them up. Meanwhile Dante, using the other's inattention, runs towards the direction which has attracted him for a while – to the coarse jug standing among the crushed tiles; for me, it resembles an urn the most. What interesting did he find here? Though I'm fighting with Grier from the distance, I keep an eye on Vale. Is it possible that he… Yes! I see a transparent veil of purple light surrounding his hand.

Finally he earned my slight respect! Comforted, I clean the floor with Grier's back, pushing him away with Touchram across the whole length of the room. Breaker, enraged by his owner's failure, throws Solwing aside with one flap of his paw and runs heavily to Sophie… who since few moments has just been standing stock-still. What, the savior appeared, so she can just be and look nicely?!

'Boltflare!', I jump in front of that moron and dazzle the bear with a sphere of light. The Titan hoarses with pain and lashes around, but can't see us.

'Breaker, they're in front of you!', Grier has already swallowed the loss to a woman and now seeks revenge at any cost.

And he'd probably succeed if not Dante's spectacular, almost movie-like entry; he suddenly stands between us and raises high a gray amulet, seeming to be made of stone.

'Do your worst, Metagolem!', he shouts so loud that it rings under the vault.

The energy released from the amulet is so immense that I involuntarily hold my breath. The clay remains of the quasi-Golem shake on the ground when something crushes it from below. A moment after an incredible weight falls onto it, just as if someone threw a tone of stones onto the flooring. An enormous silhouette shades us, crushing Breaker with one big blow of its rocky fists.

'Dante, that thing's huge!', Lok speaks up, floating above the colossus. The gold-crowned head of the giant almost touches the ceiling, the cloak sweeps the floor, and the whole posture resembles a bodybuilder from the Titan world – it's even got a six-pack on its belly, and the chest is covered by gold-encrusted breastplate, fitting the metal covering of the abdomen which would be good enough for a gladiator.

'Everyone, regroup!', Dante orders, lifting the Titan's shiny amulet. We stay in the formation obediently, me with Gareon on my shoulder, Sophie next to me and Sabriel on the other side, Metagolem behind us; Lok lands by Dante's side, Solwing on his usual spot on his shoulder.

'On my mark, concentrate your attacks on DeFoe!', Vale commands. He seems to feel good as a leader. At least he knows how to make a suitable pose. And I have to admit that it kinda fits him.

And furthermore, this inflated authority works. Maybe because Dante used kinda… heavy argument in the guise of Metagolem.

'Retreat', DeFoe pants, not even wasting his effort to adjust his tilted, twisted glasses. 'Everyone, retreat!'

'But sir…', Grier starts, still not throwing the fight on the scrap heap.

'Don't question me, they have Metagolem', the long-haired freak hisses and I sense his fear with satisfaction. 'And the advantage!'

'Yes, sir!', Grier is obedient to the orders. 'Everyone, hold back!'

With wide grins on their faces 'my' team observes how DeFoe's minions clear of there. When the last Suit disappears behind the door, Lok lets out an outburst of joy – a fist thrown triumphally into the air. The Seeker's emotions take over Kipperin and for a while the Titan lifts Lok few centimeters above the ground.

'Oh yeah!', Lok shouts so enthusiastically that it echoes in the room. 'The first mission finished successfully!', he adds, landing on the floor again and calling Kipperin back to the amulet.

'Hey, don't claim the whole credit to yourself!', I dash his zeal. 'If Dante hadn't found Metagolem, DeFoe wouldn't have run away hopping.'

'Lok also dealt fine with him', Dante parries gently. 'Good job, you chose the perfect moment, without it we would have been doomed and that way you bought me some time to bond with Metagolem', he praises the boy; too much, in my opinion. 'I'm curious about only one thing: how did you pull yourself together? Sophie said the Suits got you.'

'I used Everfight!', Lok begins. 'I learned it observing you, Dante!'

Ah, hectolitres of icing on the every sentence spoken until now. But Dante is impressed, his face shows it.

'And how's Cherit?', Sophie interrupts. 'Is something wrong with him?'

'He stayed outside, I didn't want to drag him into it', the blonde responds. 'Now he'll do just fine at the lookout.'

'Hey, hey, are we going to talk like that till midnight?', I break the lovely chat full of oh-and-ah. 'They can bring reinforcements, we're in Prague, wake up!'

'Right', Lok realizes his mistake and scratches his mop with embarrassment. 'So, you two show us the way. You managed to find something here, didn't you?'

'Actually, we kinda… didn't have time', Dante states, summoning Solwing back and hiding his amulets. 'We made ourselves busy with something else.'

Sophie at those words furrows her brow and throws me a suspicious, hostile stare. It's hard for me to hold back a smile. Ah, Dante. I couldn't say it so ambiguously. Thanks for your help.

The same day, 23:46

On the way to the Ruzyně airport

Prague, The Czech Republic

'Are you sure you can handle it alone, Dante?', Lok asks for a hundredth time.

'I am', he responds tirelessly, carrying the box full of Jodis Lore's notes with ease. 'You're being treated leniently, so just rest for now. You never know when the exhaustion after Kipperin's first summoning will strike.'

'You also summoned Metagolem for the first time, Dante', Sophie remarks. 'You shouldn't overtax yourself. We can split it between me and Zhalia.'

'Oh no, I'm not going to burden the ladies', he smiles. 'You did your job, Sophie. And Zhalia must be tired after the whole day of me abusing her.'

He does it on purpose or it's just my dirty mind? As if he tried to say such suggestive remarks at any cost… I peek at him, but he doesn't ever throw me a lustful, lecherous glare or anything like that. As if he himself didn't notice that he could have been understood in two ways. Such a pity. I just thought that he really drools over me. It'd make many things easier.

'You didn't, the time spent with you is intensive, but not wasted', I respond, trying not to watch Sophie's reaction, though I'm dying to make fun of her rage. 'Besides, I'll find you if I need help the next time.'

'I'm serious, Zhalia', he adds in a voice that really sounds as if he meant it, I even turn around to look at him. 'You run the risk of this mission with us, though you didn't have to', he continues solemnly. 'I owe you a reward. We all do.'

'Give it a break, I did it incidentally', I resist them just for show. 'If you were in my place, you'd do the same.' Like all those 'good' suckers.

'Obviously, that's why you can always count on us', Dante nods, 'but for now…'

'Watch it or I'll make a good use of this right faster than you think', I banter with him. 'When I just return from Venice…'

'From Venice?', Sophie breaks in sharply. 'And what will you do in Venice?'

'I told you I was in Prague on a mission. It was appointed to me by the Venice base of operation', I lie blatantly. 'I have to report now, and then I'll probably give myself some time to chill out…'

'We're also heading to Venice!', Lok interrupts me joyfully. 'Me and Sophie are studying at the Venice Academy, and Dante has a house there!'

I prick my ears eagerly. The description of Dante Vale's house is exactly what I would call useful.

'…you should just see it, it's so huge and full of cool stuff, and the Foundation…!'

'I'm sure Zhalia would like to visit her house first', Sophie cuts in, however, flashing a warning stare at him, then throwing me the same meaningful glare. 'Right?'

I purse my lips in discontent. I was so close to get to something valuable, yet I suppose I cannot be too insisting. I play a different card.

'Shame I'll miss a peek at our treasure', I shrug, sighing. 'Can't be helped, I guess.'

'Don't be ridiculous', Dante chimes in. 'We should celebrate victory as a team. It would be a shame if you've done so much and didn't' get anything in return.'

His words sound like a standard pleasantry, but his eyes are clear of misgivings. He means what he's saying. Somebody must've taught him a lot about fair play, and the lesson was learnt. Although he lacks in common sense if he's so willing to invite a total stranger to the secured citadel he's been so secretive about for so long. Well, that's good for me; seems like I've earned his trust.

'Come on', he insists, but his stare is warm and friendly, not demanding. 'Guggenheim would rip my head off if I let you go like that.'

'Well, I shouldn't probably say no to the Huntik pro, huh?', I return the smile. 'It may cost me a promotion if Guggenheim finds out.'

'Does it mean we're going together?', Lok overjoys.

'It seems so', Dante nods and a smile wanders in both corners of his mouth. 'You won't get rid of us that easily.'

'Unfortunately', Sophie hisses bitingly.

Rather: luckily.

14th June 2009, 7:12

Dante Vale's house

Cannareggio

Venice, Italy

'Welcome', Dante says, opening the door in front of me.

I must be careful not to let my jaw drop. Lok was right, this house is huge! I kinda had a feeling that the Huntik celebrity won't live in a mere studio apartment, but I've never imagined that he owns a house that could easily fit three families with kids and pets. And maybe even grandparents. Three floors and a basement for a single guy? That's too much extravagance. Some people just need to enlarge their ego.

I have to say that while being a self-indulgent prick, he's also got some taste. Only a few would be able to mix modern luxury with an ethnic touch of various souvenirs from around the world, and still make the space feel oddly comfortable. Thanks to the big windows, the living room is just so bright it is almost hard to watch; I stop at the doorstep, not sure if I wanna be blinded.

'Come on, make yourself comfortable', Dante invites us, putting the notes onto the table. I stay where I stand, however, I'd rather have a peek into the corridor to get some image on how the rooms are planned. The Organization would love to know for sure.

Not everyone feels so qualmish.

'You don't have to tell me twice', Lok murmurs, dragging his feet through the room, his eyes like slits. 'Man, I feel like we should celebrate our first victory as a team, but… I'm just too tired', he concludes, falling into a bunch of pillows on the couch and burying himself in them.

'Don't you wanna know what's written here first?', Sophie says, reaching for Lore's notes and putting a few pages onto her lap. 'You're unbelievable…'

'Lok's got a full right to be exhausted', Dante says in a praising voice. 'You've done a great job, kid.'

'It was a sight to see, that's for sure!', Cherit exclaims enthusiastically.

'Yeah, Lok using his first power and spontaneously too!', Sophie admits. 'That's rare! Powers are normally learnt from study and careful teaching! That's why I'm good at them', she adds, trying not to sound too full of herself. Didn't work.

'I'm just glad we've found these in the Golem's attic', Lok admits, managing to sit up straight somehow and pointing at the notes.

'Well, they're definitely Jodis Lore's notes, but I can't read the code', Sophie confesses, losing half of her usual self-confidence. Huh, something too complicated for Miss-Know-It-All? That's a sight to see.

'Don't worry, the Huntik Foundation will be able to decipher them', Dante assures her, however, as she leaves the notes on the table and gets up, as if she wanted to be as far from the source of her failure as possible.

'Then we'll know why my dad was trying to find that place', Lok suggests. 'Maybe even where to go next.'

I try not to roll my eyes. Only one day and I've already had enough of Lok's desperate search for the clues about his father. The kid should just finally say goodbye to him and stop chasing his pitiful fantasies. The guy may be dead, or maybe faked the whole disappearance thingie to cover that he's having the time of his life in Hawaii, groping skimpy-dressed girls, free of any responsibilities. I wonder if that even crossed anyone's mind. At least Dante should have some brains to consider it a possibility.

Whatever. If they're gonna talk about this Lambert guy again, I guess I won't hear anything more interesting. I attempt to leave, but then I notice Sophie standing next to me. She's got a determined look on her face, one that I've noticed in the plane as well; as if she was fighting herself.

Apparently, one part of her finally won.

'You really saved me back there', she says vaguely, straightening up, as if to boast her own self-confidence as she admits her mistake. 'Maybe I was wrong not to trust you.'

I raise my eyebrows questioningly. Didn't expect that, I must say. I don't even feel that much satisfaction from my victory. This is still too little to make her pay for being a little prissy bitch, and I'm not gonna let her forget that.

'If I was an evil Seeker, setting that up would be an easy way to earn your trust', I inform her meaningfully, just to watch her struggle with her resolution to tolerate and her instinct to smack me in the face… and maybe the slightest anxiety that she cannot have the upper hand, as she's all alone in her doubt and conquest to find out my true loyalty. Oh, I just love to see my targets wriggle like cockroaches when they realize they cannot escape.

I don't see any of those emotions in her face.

'I guess', she responds simply, still locking her eyes on me calmly. As if I just confessed the last thing she's needed to hear.

I feel annoyance creeping up my skin. I wish I could just gouge those green eyes out with my nails. Why is she so calm?! And what brought me to say something so stupid?! It was really as if I spilled the beans!

No, no, it's going way too far. Sophie is not a threat; a little sheltered girl that has little to say in important topics, a posh princess who only provides cash and, occasionally, useful spells, but lacks experience; a bitter jealous freak who's been prejudiced towards me right from the start because she's got a crush on her teacher. She is certainly not a valuable figure in this equation. She can go on and on about how she suspects me, but I've seen how Dante ignores her openly; it's not like he will take her paranoia about me seriously.

Speaking of paranoia…

'Hey Dante, you alright?', Lok asks, drawing everyone's attention to the leader's face. Dante surely looks gloomy… and he hesitates to answer.

'There's one thing still on my mind', he drawls finally. 'Those rumors about the Professor.'

'Yeah…', Lok's face fades too. 'He seems like a dangerous foe.'

Damn, they took my words to heart too much. I need to placate them a bit. I don't need them to take a lock on the Professor. Not that he wouldn't manage to get rid of them, but they might dig out too much to let me carry my mission.

'If only what they say about him is true', I shrug indifferently.

'You were the one who told us about the Professor', Lok points out. 'So, do you believe in the gossips or not?'

'Listen, I told you only what I've heard here and there, but rumors are just that: rumors', I say blatantly. 'People always make stories about things they don't know and are afraid of.'

'But they have a reason to fear him, apparently', Dante says, scratching his chin in concern.

'OK, if you guys gonna analyze gossips right now, I think I'm off', I roll my eyes and turn to the exit. However, I stop halfway, finding a good opportunity to correct some of my other mistakes too. 'You shouldn't believe in everything you hear, Dante', I throw in passing.

'Yeah, exactly', Sophie accentuates bitingly.

We eye each other hostilely. The battle has only just begun.