15th June 2009, Monday, 19:37

The catacombs

Paris, France

'Alright, that's enough', I say after a minute, annoyed by their stillness. 'Feel free if you want to wring your hands, but I'm not going to wait for some miracle!'

What? If the male part turns out to have no balls at all, I have to show mine.

'We don't!', Lok protests. 'But what can we really do?'

'First, get up and help me find another exit', I command.

'But what then? Will we leave the ring here? After all, no one can touch it not to go nuts!', the boy panics.

'Don't worry', I calm him down. 'I've got some trick up my sleeve. Dante, you know what I'm talking 'bout, right?', I address the kneeling Vale.

He raises his stare to me, finally taking it off from the unconscious Sophie. For a moment, he wonders what I mean, with his brows furrowed. Geee, it takes him so long; maybe it's because Sophie's exclusion really moved him. Or he's not such an Einstein like everybody says. Eventually, something is dawning on him.

'I guess', he responds slowly. 'Are you sure it'll work?'

'No', I don't try to boast, shrugging, 'but do we have any alternative?'

'That's not the best moment for a Russian roulette!' His faces gets contorted with grimace. 'It's enough that Sophie overestimated her abilities! We don't need another casualty!'

'Relax, you won't have to carry me', I respond stiffly, offended by the word 'casualty'. 'I'd rather crawl than…'

'That's not what I meant!', he interrupts me sharply, irritated; I haven't seen him in such a state yet. Where did the collected pro analyzing every problem in cold blood go? 'I just don't want any of you to get hurt! I am responsible for you…'

He gets silent, seeing my expression.

'Don't forget yourself', I throw chillily. 'And don't treat me like another one of your charges. We're here on the same rights, as equal operatives.'

You scum, you won't play my superior. I hate guys who think too high about themselves. You're just a Huntik prominent symbol. Like a business card. Which can be easily thrown away; torn apart, crushed, burnt before that…

Alright, Zhalia, cool it. I can't lose my head and vent my anger at him, 'cause it'd scare him away for sure, and then my plans of an after party in some cozy hotel room would come to nothing.

'I'm as responsible for you as you are for me', I add in a more gentle voice, making a face as if my rancor fought against concern.

He looks at me seriously, I give that stare back haughtily, trying not to make it too hateful, though. For a moment, we just size each other up. In the ring's weak, ghostly light, now pale green, his eyes seem very dark. Finally, he closes his lids and lowers his head, as if he was exposing his neck to the executioner – my reasoning is the final blow this time.

'Fine', he gives up. 'We'll do it your way.'

I nod. Yeah, honey. Now and many times more, you will dance to my tune, though you rather won't be aware of that.

'Stay here with Sophie, let her recover a bit', I advise him. 'Lok, move it.'

Lambert gets up from the floor reluctantly and idles around, following me when I start searching in the adjoining chamber, separated only by a narrow passage. I look the walls and tiles under my feet up and down, searching for any warps or swellings which could hide the additional manhole. A protruding flag sticks my eyes a mile. I approach it and tap it with the tip of my shoe. It shakes a bit, it's not integrated with the rest of the flooring.

'Lift it up', I order to Lok. I kinda like seizing the leadership. I could easily get used to that… but I would consider more capable teammates.

Lok obediently kneels down. He takes aim for raising the stone few times, then he fulfills my order, panting quietly.

'I think there's another exit back here!', he states, looking at the created hole.

'Ay!', Cherit admits, floating above and observing the just-uncovered wooden hatch with a metal ring on the one side of the quadrilateral.

'Then we don't need this one', I judge, coming closer to the door through which we entered before.

'What're you gonna do?', Lok asks with surprise, leaving the plate aside, 'cause it's got too heavy.

I don't answer; he'll see it himself.

'Touchram!' I aim the double spell at the ceiling just above the entrance. Cherit clogs his ears when some of the ornamented arches get smashed into debris and cover up the door.

'Zhalia, grab the ring', Dante suddenly appears in the chamber, probably alarmed by the noise.

He sounds as if he wasn't delighted with this idea, but had no other choice. In contrast, the ring of Arc itself seems to hear everything we say and react on its own will – it levitates to me so quickly that I barely have time to prepare for its attack.

'Careful, that crazy ring will scramble your brains!', Lok warns me.

Relax, kiddo, I'll manage. I catch the band confidently and squeeze it tight. A sharp impulse goes through my hand, as if I put my fingers into the electrical socket. I hiss with pain when I suddenly get lifted up and the current flows up my arm; even my hair picks up static, dazzling sparks fly around, dancing all over me and forming images… Klaus shielding himself from a blow… Dante's face contorted with disbelief… The Professor's eyes piercing me mercilessly, him reaching out his hand with a golden signet ring…

I close my eyes tightly, trying to stop the flooding stream of visions, but it only makes it worse; now they become more importunate, they fly through my head with wild speed, which makes me feel sick… I can't distinguish particular shapes, they merge into one, however, a moving sob of a girl rings clearly in my ears… I shake my head, but I can't snap it… Oh no, Arc, you won't play with me, you'll see that no one falls foul of me!

'Headcage!', I shout, dreaming only about making this piercing cry stop…

After a running and running wail its sudden break feels like an… explosion of peace. Silence wraps me tightly like a soft blanket, soothing my pulsating eardrums. I breathe with relief and triumphantly reach out my hand with a ring in it.

I see a genuine admiration on Dante's face. And surprise that I was right, after all.

'Impressive', he admits. 'That's not a spell you see every day. Now everyone, out the back, quickly!'

Enough praises, come back to earth, Zhalia… literally. I land onto the floor smoothly and follow the rest, already disappearing in the passage. The circle of metal in my hand seems very heavy, too heavy as for a thin silver rod… and it heats up thanks to my body very quickly, as if it drained warmth from it.

No, Arc. Don't think you'd break me.

The same day, 19:52

The catacombs

Paris, France

'We'll make a stop now', Dante ordered when the team reached a round room, where two corridors crossed squarely, creating four tunnels to choose. A low, circle-shaped pedestal stood in the center; possibly, it had been used as an altar for funeral masses. Or the French simply hadn't known how to fill an empty space.

'How come?', Lok got surprised. 'Now? What's with the Organization?'

His anxiety had its grounds, but Dante also didn't act without a specific reason. His justification for the decision was Zhalia's heavy breath, which he had been hearing clearly for few minutes. During the runaway, the woman had been visibly falling behind. Dante wasn't sure if it was due to her itching, strained legs, tiredness after using an exhausting spell or eventually, the ring's power affecting her despite the mental barrier, but he knew that in every case, she needed rest. He was well-aware, though, that if he proposed it to her, she would try to prove again that she can move mountains, in spite of the obvious symptoms of tiredness. And just now, she shouldn't overdo it; he had a hunch that they would need their whole strength soon.

'I need a break', he responded, settling Sophie in his arms suggestively. 'I wouldn't like to drop her.'

Of course he lied, and more, with premeditation. Sophie was very light and he was in good physical condition, so carrying her a bit longer wouldn't be a slightest problem. Zhalia peeked at him suspiciously, but he pretended not to see that, moving his neck, which in fact had gone stiff; the bones cracked, making the fraud credible.

'Ah, of course!', Lok was taken in. 'I can carry her if you wish…', the boy volunteered, reaching his arms out.

'That way we both will be equally tired', he protested. 'We won't agree to be driven like a quarry. Let's rest for a while. Zhalia, leave the ring on the pedestal. Lok, I'll seat Sophie, and you take care not to let her fall. Just be careful.'

Lambert hadn't needed to be told twice; when Dante left the Casterwill in his care, he embraced the girl so cautiously as if she was made of glass. Given his usual awkwardness, such delicacy was very unexpected, but praiseworthy.

Meanwhile Zhalia was putting off a bit; Dante thought that she would leave the burden eagerly, but she only stared at the ring glistening on her hand. Catching Dante's gaze, she dropped the band onto the pedestal reluctantly; it hung in the sphere of fiery light. The woman leaned on the wall in her usual pose, with her arms crossed on her chest, turning her head away from Dante, as if he seriously offended her. Maybe she guessed that he had noticed her weariness and she didn't like it?

To placate her, he offered her his flask; she peeked at it indifferently.

'Take it, your body needs some liquids', he encouraged her. 'I know it's unhygienic, but I don't have anything else to offer. I assure you I brush my teeth, and my bacteria are well-trained.'

'I've got my own water', she threw ostentatiously.

'It wouldn't fit in there', he remarked shrewdly, pointing at the small pouch hanging down her thigh.

She pursed her lips, caught red-handed, and snatched the bottle. She took a sip which wouldn't be enough even for a sparrow, and gave him the flask back with a face asking: 'So, are you happy now?'

What a stubborn girl… Why did she try to prove at any cost that she was completely self-sufficient? Dante only sighed; he himself took a big gulp, very thirsty. Lok looked at it with greedy eyes; he had his flask and something even stayed in it despite pouring most of the content in the Gar-Ghoul's cavern, but he didn't dare to let go of Sophie and reach out for his bottle.

'Dante…'

Vale almost choked hearing his name. Lowering the flask, he looked at Sophie, who was wriggling in Lok's arms, slowly blinking her eyes.

'We beat them.. together…', she murmured, trying to focus her sight.

'Sophie! You're awake!', Lok beamed, and not because he could drink at least. He was apparently relieved that the girl had revived.

'O-of course I am!', the girl pulled her peer away with an extraordinary verve, blushing; however, she quickly faltered and leaned onto the floor with both hands. 'What's going on?!', she got out, a bit dizzy.

'We're just waiting on you, Sleeping Beauty', Zhalia murmured from next to the wall, not even honoring her with a stare.

'Welcome back, lass! We're glad you're finally awake!', Cherit said with relief.

The girl smiled to him gratefully; raising her stare to the flying fellow, she noticed the levitating ring.

'Is that the ring of Arc?', she mumbled, getting up and approaching it to take a better look. 'Something's wrong with it, I can feel it!' She reached her hand out to touch the band, but she quickly stepped backward with a moan, struck by its energy. 'It's cursed!'

'We can't do anything with the ring like this', Dante spoke. 'Know any good Casterwill spell, Sophie?', he asked, trying to show her that he didn't treat her patronizingly. She deserved it.

'Yes!', she didn't hesitate to answer. 'Well, I should say… maybe', she corrected herself honestly. 'I've read all about it, but… I've never seen a real curse before…'

'Won't be your last', he threw with a smirk.

'You'll be OK, Sophie', Lok comforted her, embracing the girl's shoulder. 'You're like, a homework master!'

The girl apparently didn't like that dubious compliment; she pushed Lok away with dissatisfaction and approached the ring. She surrounded the light sphere with her hands, focusing on the artifact. She closed her lids, a piercing moan came out from behind her pursed lips. Sweat pearled on her forehead, the girl almost broke her teeth, clenching them hard and still howling dully as if she was possessed.

'Sophie, come back to us!', Lok shouted, seeing her in such a state.

'You can do it, just keep it together!', Cherit supported her.

'Banebound!', she screamed sharply.

A beam of light jerked up between her hands, filling the whole room and blinding everyone. Dante barely saw anything from behind spots dancing before his eyes; he had to cover his face to let his sight come back to normal. When he lowered his arm, the ring was just falling onto the pedestal in front of Sophie, ringing like a silver bell.

'It worked!', Lok beamed. 'Nice!'

'Yeah…', Sophie admitted, leaning over the plinth; she was exhausted, the spell demanded an immense amount of power from her… '…but only for maybe thirty minutes. Then the curse will overpower my magic…', she announced, seeming ashamed that she couldn't have done more.

'That's thirty minutes more than we had', Dante reminded her, leaning over her and placing his hand on her shoulder. 'Good work', he praised her, trying to make up for the distress he had caused before.

Sophie beamed; Dante felt a little better knowing that he had somehow made up for his mistake; but at the same time, the way she looked at him was embarrassing. He had a feeling that he shouldn't overdo the kindness; it would lead Sophie to the wrong conclusions for sure. He backed and then got busy with the ring. He lifted it up, examining it too attentively to look natural. Zhalia interrupted that performance; she took the band from his hands and then started to check it on her own. Meanwhile Dante drew out the holotome, put it onto the pedestal and opened it.

'Seekers, we have a mission', he announced. 'Named: Joan of Arc's ring. Our objective: protect the ring of Arc from the Organization and safely deliver it to the Huntik Foundation safehouse.'

'Notre Dame is the Huntik Foundation safehouse, so they must have one', Sophie remarked.

'But look!', Lok waved his hand at the underground map projected on the holotome; red animated silhouettes loomed in the corridors. Each one had a formal outfit… 'I haven't seen so many bad Suits since my TV got stuck on the news channel… We'll never get past them!', he spread the prophecies of doom.

'True', Dante agreed, 'but if we split up, our chances increase, and the holotome will help us avoid the Suits.'

'We'll take the paths of least resistance…', the boy wondered out loud. 'So, who takes the ring?'

'Lucky for you, my disguise kit has a selection of rings', Zhalia butted into the conversation, dropping four bands onto Dante's hand. 'I modified them with a spell…' Vale even know which one. 'So now we have three fakes.'

Dante peeked at her askance. When did she manage to use Formtake and make the ring's duplicates? And what for if she hadn't known his plan then? Did they have a similar idea in the same time? He didn't believe in coincidences, but Zhalia's professionalism could help her anticipate the events, just like him… perhaps.

'I get it, we'll all have one!', Lok picked up. 'The Organization won't know who to go after!'

'But if one of us gets captured, their magic can steal the info right from our heads!', Sophie challenged the effectiveness of this method.

'Exactly', Dante admitted, 'so no one will know who has the real ring except from me. Is everything clear?', he asked, looking at every face.

The kids exchanged stares hesitantly. They probably were afraid that the burden would fall onto one of them. Dante didn't undeceived them. It was exactly how the bluff was supposed to work: no one could know their role. He gave all of them one ring. Lok examined his suspiciously; he raised it to Cherit for check-out, but the Titan only opened his paws helplessly. Lok shrugged before he threw the copy to his pocket. Sophie tried to sense if her band was emitting any energy, but with no effect. She only sighed and hid the ring.

Zhalia slipped hers onto her finger; it fitted perfectly. Joan of Arc had to have equally slender hands, which contrasted a bit with her low descent and military career. Dante always regarded Joan as an admirable, but plain female of simple looks; that discovery had verified his opinion. However, he still couldn't imagine a lady with such petite hands to wield a sword effectively. But, like Cherit once said – women still remained the greatest mystery…

'Now we'll split up', he decided. 'Choose your corridors.'

The kids accepted it without dallying, but without enthusiasm either. For a moment, they argued where to go, finally they reached an agreement. Zhalia stayed philosophic about it; she took her place next to the east mouth; nonchalantly leaning on the wall, with her eyes closed, she looked as if she was taking a nap.

'Alright, everyone goes their own way', Vale announced when only the north corridor had left for him. 'And don't panic. Everything will be alright, I'm certain.'

Lok nodded; Cherit's presence also cheered him up a bit. The Titan, despite knowing Dante for the longest time, and the fact that the Lambert boy usually had been getting him into trouble, felt the best by his side. They sank into the darkness of the west tunnel. Sophie slowly marched into the south one. Zhalia opened her eyes, straightened up and also was about to leave.

'Zhalia!', Dante stopped her. 'Wait a minute. There's something I want to ask of you…'

The same day, 19:57

The catacombs

Paris, France

I peek at him above my shoulder. Why am I not surprised?

'I'm listening', I respond calmly, turning to him. My profile leaves a lot to be desired, mostly due to my snub nose. I look way more favorable en face.

He reaches the ring out to me.

'Could you make one duplicate more?', he asks.

I'm not really dying to waste my energy for his whims. Anyway, not for ones like those. I'd rather accede to his proposition of a rough quickie on the pedestal. Besides, that's probably what Sophie accused us of, when she was leaving the room and threw us a suspicious glare. What does this unappeased teenager imagine, huh?! That right when they vanish behind the corner, we jump at each other like two sex-starving maniacs? Nope. Well, at least not YET.

'What for? Every one of us have a copy. And you even have the original', I add, loosening my face in a sly smirk.

Dante doesn't show his shock in any way, which makes me a bit anxious. I thought I'd make him a surprise, however, he looks as if he's anticipated that.

'Yes', he admits; probably considers any pretending as unnecessary. 'However, I'm not going to keep it. I've got a certain idea… but I'll need your help again.'

I nod, sensitive about every change in his behavior.

'At first I considered the possibility of making it out with the ring on my own', he explains carefully, 'but I assumed that it'd be too much of a risk, given that DeFoe apparently holds some grudge against me and won't give up unless he gets me. He'd leave you at peace and that's a huge value, but if he concentrated his attacks on me, I doubt I'd protect the ring of Arc. He'd get it with ease, especially because he probably called for the reinforcements. We'd find ourselves in much worse troubles.'

I nod again.

'So, I thought of other way. During the fight in Lore's townhouse, I noticed that Gareon can turn invisible temporarily', he carries on. 'I've just recalled it now and… I thought that it could come in handy. What do think about making him slip between the Suits and deliver the ring to the Foundation hideout?'

I am silent for some time, observing him attentively. His face, as well as his eyes, doesn't show any emotions, still, wary. Strange. He is usually so easy to read.

So, you want to check me. That's why you're spoon-feeding me with the legendary ring, giving me a chance either to protect or to steal it. That's the test I've been waiting for since I fell into the crystal trap.

I didn't expect him to wave it aside. I know I exposed myself to suspicions when I didn't pass the purity test smoothly. That was the first mistake I've made so far, but it can cost me a lot if I don't act the way I should.

Luckily, the craving for the ring waned when I just realized that it wouldn't be very useful for me. The curse precludes it from being used for my goals. I won't win over it – Headcage works only for a while and weakens me a lot in a battle against Arc's immense power. Of course, Klaus could examine the spell and maybe even break it… but if the ring got into his greedy hands, I would never see it again.

Besides, I don't know if I really want to have it. It caused me to get overflown by doubts. What is the meaning of those three clear visions I saw? One of them indicated that I will succeed at cheating Dante Vale. But the other two denied it – Klaus' face was horrified, and the Professor didn't look pleased to see me either. I know that look and it doesn't make me optimistic. Does it mean that something will go wrong? Maybe I'll trick Vale, but when he sees through the mystification, he'll slip through my fingers somehow? Will he take his secrets to the grave, leaving me only with his useless corpse? And… exposing me and Klaus to the Professor's wrath?

Oh no, I won't allow that to happen. I won't let it be that a stupid trinket throw me off balance. That's probably what it wanted to do, it's some kind of a defense mechanism, like a frog which can't do much, but still tries to be scary, puffing up and showing its threateningly-patterned skin. If I only act according to the plan, failure is not an option.

Now relaxed, I smile lightly. I know what to do.

'Brilliant', I praise Dante excessively.

He gives the smile back. Perhaps I stared at the ring for too long; now it seems to me that his pupils are surrounded by a bright border of light.

'I won't make it without you', he responds humbly. 'So, can I count on you?'

I know he doesn't ask only about this task.

'Do you have any doubts?', I throw coquettishly, regaining my courage. That's enough to assure him; only guilty ones talk through their teeth, trying to hide their true intentions, confess repentantly, are humble and meek. People who doesn't have anything to hide act naturally, freely and loosely. One point for me thanks to psychological knowledge. Seeing my confidence, Dante calms down apparently.

I draw out the amulet and summon my pet. The small fellow clings to my shoulder with his sticky fingers. I shortly explain him what he has to do. He looks at me with his yellow peepers and only pats my back with his tail as a sign of acceptation. I scratch his nodular head. Dante reaches the ring of Arc out to me, keeping his hand at a safe distance from the Titan's mug; Gareon wriggles nervously, observing him unfriendly. He asks me if he can snap up Dante's finger. I refuse quickly, 'cause I know Gareon's ready to do so. Don't scare him away, I lecture him. Rather let him stroke you. The Titan, disgusted, bristles up a set of horn flaps on his back. I hold back a laugh caused by his reaction, busy with creating another copy. Done; I give the fake ring to Dante. I hang the original down the Titan's neck and check if it won't get torn off.

'Alright', I announce.

We both watch Gareon disappearing from my shoulder and blending into the environment. He slips from the chamber without a sound; if I hadn't known what he was doing, I would have never sensed his presence in the catacombs.

'I wish everything went easy', Dante voices his hopes. 'I guess for half an hour, we will manage to run away from the Suits. But if they hem you in…', he begins cautiously, 'don't start a fight, just give them the ring. They'd realize that it's a fake. Then direct them to me.'

'Do you want me to expose you?', I raise my eyebrows, surprised.

'You think it'd be better if they chased Lok or Sophie?', he responds with a question.

'That's what this is all about, right?', I shrug. 'The Suits are supposed to run after us scattered. More people they chase, harder for them to join forces later.'

'She's still exhausted', he shakes his head. 'I'm already starting to regret that I let her go alone. And Lok… he's very enthusiastic, but even two Suits are too much for him, at least for now. It won't be any problem for me, though.'

'Do you always like to play a hero?', I make a cutting remark.

'I just don't want you guys to suffer any harm', he denies, a bit offended.

'How chivalrous', I shake my head theatrically. 'As you want.' I can even set them on you, if you wish. 'Well then… good luck', I add, preparing myself to leave.

'Same to you. And… watch out. I'm not saying it as to a charge, but as to an equal operative', he accentuates with a slight mockery before the darkness swallows him.

What a pig. A pig with a silver tongue is surely a rarity.

Klaus will be happy to dissect such a phenomenon, then.

The same day, 20:19

The catacombs

Paris, France

Fifteen minutes still left and I already have enough of weaving my way through the labyrinth of corridors. The battle against Arc, though short, was very intensive and drained some energy from me. My legs will come off soon; in places where the rocks hit me before, bruises spring up like mushrooms. But what can I do? Sit with my arms crossed and wait, whistling? I promised Dante to drag the Suits away from the kids. So that's what I'm doing now. I've got three of them breathing down my neck…

What a pity I forgot to take the ring off from my hand before I blended with them in disguise. If I did, everything would have gone smoothly. I mimicked the accent well, the red-haired mouse who fell victim to my ambush and had to lend me her clothes, wore the same size, and additionally, a wig – I knew that such color and hairstyle simply couldn't be natural. But it happened, one perceptive Suit (it probably excludes one another…) noticed the band on my hand and all of them started to chase me. Luckily, I lose them at one of the turns. At least I don't have to cram in a jacket and creased trousers; I've never liked the uniform much.

I just want to leave those awful catacombs and find Gareon. I don't even know where he is now – at such a distance, our telepathic connection almost disappears. He hasn't returned to the amulet, although it probably means he's safe and sound. Maybe he's even finished the mission? Of course I won't know for now – only our noble leader will get the message from the Foundation, his faithful pawns may get stuffed; who would talk to their tools, right?

'There's an exit up there!', I beam, coming down the stairs and seeing the end of the road before me. Finally. I scorch like crazy despite the blisters I discover at my feet with every step I make.

'Not so fast, Foundation scum! We know who you are!'

I slow down sharply when a groups of Suits springs up in front of me. And it was supposed to go nicely!

'Oh, I doubt that', I dash them, putting my hand on my hip. That gesture enrages them; they aim at me. I anticipate their spells. 'Shadowspeed!'

They look around in surprise, wondering where I disappeared after a nimble jump. I land behind a long-haired gingy and get rid of him with Darksleep. The rest, alarmed by their colleague's elimination, turn around as if on accord.

'Grab her, Redcap!', the red-haired operative shouts. Ouch, she reaches such a high register… I silence her with a kick to the face.

Her blond peer launches himself at me with doubled efforts.

'Hold them up!', he growls.

I avoid his blows, deftly slipping through his punching fists and kicking feet. Eventually it gets a bit boring. I reduce my field of vision with both hands and staring right into the blonde's eyes, I drawl clearly:

'Mindsight!'

The blonde shakes his head, confused, then he tries to hit me again. I move out of his way. The kick doesn't turn out too well, I dodge it smoothly.

'I know where you're going to punch before you do', I tell him to make him give up that tomfoolery.

He doesn't take it to the heart. He directs his fists at me again. I warned him. I crush him down with one accurate kick to the chest and intend to leave him here.

'Those powers!', he pants, getting up. 'You must be…'

'Who cares?', I interrupt him derisively. 'You won't remember anyway. Simplemind!', I turn around without a warning, hitting him with the spell. I don't check if it worked, only buzz off to get the hell out of here before I got chased again by such clumsy louses which can't even entertain me a tiny bit.

WOOOOSH! A ray of energy flies right before my eyes. If I had been a step forward, it'd have burnt my nose.

'What?!', I growl, directing my stare to the place from where the bolt came.

'A shame, Zhalia Moon…', a familiar, irritating voice speaks up. 'You were so close. Too bad…'

Hell yeah. Of course you're really sorry, DeFoe. I pant with hatred, seeing his whole merry team surrounding me in a semicircle. Damn, did he have to bump right into ME?! Dante wanted to play Superman so badly, they could have fun with him! I just want to get to the surface and breathe in some city fumes instead of the odor of the local occupants. Why can't DeFoe just leave me? He knows I'm not really on the Foundation side! But he apparently doesn't care; I guess he's lost common sense a long time ago, now he's just slipping lower and lower. Yeah, he really makes my mystification more believable, trying to kill me like one of the ordinary Huntik agents…

'Come on then!', I goad them. 'But while you're wasting time with me, Dante's escaping with the ring!'

I try to get through this thick skull of his, reminding DeFoe of his real target. If Dante wanted it so badly, here it comes. DeFoe would probably seek him to get revenge; every mention of Dante is like waving a fresh carrot in front of a starving donkey.

'Oh, how clever', DeFoe mocks me theatrically. 'But… I know you have the real ring of Arc. You see, we've already captured the other three fakes…', he grins derisively.

I itch to wipe away his arrogant smirk. With a fist. Though I should probably start from punishing Dante. I swear, the first part of my body which he'll come to know better will be my leg when I'll kick his butt! He swore that he'd take everything onto his shoulders and now it turns out that it's me who's doing the dirty job.

'Can't those idiots do anything right?', I wonder out loud, unable to hold it back any longer.

'Destroy her!', DeFoe orders.

Not so fast. I jump away from the Suit's blows skillfully, but it's harder for me to avoid Mindrone and Kreutalk. I hiss from pain when the Titan's acid brushes my arm. The second hit tears my blouse. Now that's too much! One simply doesn't destroy a woman's clothes without being punished!

'Fight for your lady, Kilthane!', I summon sharply, shouting my frustration out. With the dark knight by my side, I feel a little more confident, especially facing the next charge.

'Attack!', DeFoe insists.

'Jokoul!'

'Redcap!'

Oh, great. DeFoe still uses everyone around to get out unscathed.

'I know your type, DeFoe', I throw mockingly. 'You had an easy life, isn't that true?'

'Surround her!' My words doesn't make an impression on him as long as he has me in the palm of his hand.

'Because of that', I continue in defiance, 'you think you're better than everybody else, and you think you have the right to lead them…'

'Let him have it!', he growls, irritated that the prey has guts to retort.

Kilthane shields himself, but three bolts at once is much even for such a strong guy. If Mindrones crawling under the ceiling attack him now, he'll be off. I can't allow that; without him, I won't manage for sure.

'Impale them, Strix!', I call.

Surrounded by the bloodthirsty insects, I feel safer, especially because those small Titans handle bigger Mindrones with ease – they simply pierce their single eyes, making them explode into dust. The last bug buzzes to DeFoe. Such a comical view – a grown-up dude squealing from fear at the sight of a hornet.

'Assist me!', he shouts.

I don't feel like laughing anymore when Jokoul takes the hit, and two Redcaps aim at me. At the last moment, Kilthane covers me with his shield, scaring the other Titans away from me by waving his curved sword around. Busy with protecting me, he forgets to defend his own back. He falls down, paralyzed by Kreutalk's acid, and it seems that he won't get up anymore, given that he gets hit every second.

'Is that it, Miss Moon?', DeFoe mocks me. 'No more… subterfuge?'

BOOOM! One of the Redcaps scatters into tiny pieces.

'That's a big word for such a small-minded man…'

I must have a stupid expression, observing how Dante himself emerges from the clouds of battle-risen dust. He walks peacefully as if his Caliban hadn't just split Redcap in half and there wasn't a group of enemies around. Meanwhile I… damn it, I got the role of a damsel in distress whom he has just rescued. I don't want him to see me like one.

'Dante, I tried to keep them busy', I explain myself, scratching my neck nervously.

He throws me a smirk, as if he knew perfectly how it had looked like. He tries to prove again that he doesn't fall for my confident poses. Well, I'll let him think so. That's better for me.

'What is the meaning of this?!', DeFoe gets furious, enraged by his enemy's mere sight.

'Zhalia, go ahead', Vale encourages me, 'give him the ring.'

I shrug and nonchalantly send the band flying to DeFoe's feet. He scrambles for it greedily, gazing at it lustfully.

'It can't be! Another fake?!', he can't believe it. 'Which one of you really has the ring of Arc?!', he gets more furious each second… and more nervous as well. It staggers his imagination that we could have made a fool out of him.

'None of us did, of course', Dante responds with satisfaction. I guess it's DeFoe's frustrated look and the fact he pushed him to the limits that make him so amused.

'Dante!' With a loud patter, breathless Lok and Sophie approach us running; they're a bit shabby, but safe and sound in general. Cherit is with them too. The dream team together again. 'Our thirty minutes is almost up, we've gotta get out of here!', the boy rushes us.

'The real ring of Arc was safely delivered to a Foundation safehouse ten minutes ago', Dante calms him down.

'That's impossible!', DeFoe almost spits this sentence out. 'No!'

'Actually, it was pretty easy', Vale spreads his arms disrespectfully. 'After we split up, Zhalia's Gareon took the real ring and slipped right through your defenses', he enlightens the unaware ones. 'You see, Gareon has the ability to turn invisible for short periods of time. Combined with our diversions, that allowed him to escape to the surface and reach a Huntik Foundation safehouse in plenty of time…'

'But that means…', DeFoe chokes out, stunned and infuriated at the same time.

'You lost', Dante finishes in his place, 'before you even knew it.'

'Oi, that's the Dante Vale touch!', Cherit comments with pride.

'Yes, we did it!', Lok and Sophie triumph, high-fiving.

'If I can't have the ring…', DeFoe drawls; his hand gets covered by a veil of cold brightness, 'I'll have you!'

'DeFoe', Dante interrupts his performance before the maniac manages to name the spell, 'there's another interesting consequence of my strategy…'

Our. You wanted to say: our. Without my duplicates of the ring you could have gotten stuffed with your idea…

'… I've planned just for you!', Dante finishes lightly.

'Oh, and what would that be?!', DeFoe's charm burns out like a blown-out flame.

'Your forces are spread through all the catacombs', he enlightens him, 'while mine are right here.'

That remark does the job; no one underestimates four Seekers and their Titans, especially after witnessing them in action. DeFoe's men run away almost kicking their butts, leaving him alone.

'Useless cowards!', the panicked man screams. 'Next time, Dante Vale…!'

He doesn't finish his threat, turning away and following his minions, which proves that he's not more courageous than them. I raise my hand to trip him over with a spell; he deserves a lesson after playing with me like that.

'Let him go', Dante stops me. 'We have business to take care of.'

I shrug. Have it your way. Just one more time.

The same day, 20:51

The Huntik Foundation hideout

Notre Dame

Paris, France

'I take it you got my message', Dante begins, addressing a ginger-haired Foundation worker.

You don't even know what a pleasure it is to finally get to a warm, dry and cozy place after crawling through stuffy, cold tombs filled with mold and decay… Even if the Foundation's huge library lacks hot coffee and a comfortable sofa to let me stretch my legs. However, the most important thing is that I found Gareon here; the small fellow immediately jumped into my arms. He doesn't like to leave me for too long. I have to make it up to him for that prolonged separation, so I scratch his rough skin patiently.

'Yes', the Huntik worker admits. 'I wasn't quite sure what was going on but I prepared the reliquary right away… and it does seem to be holding.'

I skeptically glare at the ring placed on the lining. From that distance, it looks innocent and ordinary. As if it wasn't rummaging through my brains not so long ago…

'Fine, but can you tell what it is?', I insist. That riddle still bothers me. I want to know what I sacrificed not to blow my cover in front of Dante. 'An amulet maybe?'

'I don't think it's one of the Legendary Titans, if that's what you mean', the ginger responds. 'I'm guessing it's just an ordinary cursed ring.'

Yeah, that sounds comforting. I don't even regret that I decided to give it away. I don't need a jewelry which sends me hallucinations.

'With that strong of a curse, not even an elite Seeker could sense a Titan inside', Dante disagrees. He always has to spoil everything…

'OK, I'll request our top experts from the Huntik Council and… we'll figure it out, alright?', the four-eyes proposes.

'Fine', Dante accepts such solution. 'Till then, don't let the ring leave here.'

I lose interest in the continuing conversation, concentrated around the chain of security procedures; I'm done trying to get the ring anyway. Instead, I eavesdrop the kids' talk.

'Lok? Did the ring of Arc show you anything? Like… visions or something?' Sophie asks hesitantly, lost in reading a thick volume until now. She's got some privileges; the princess took the only armchair here. She's treated leniently 'cause she still gathers her strength after her achievement with sealing the ring temporarily. What a wimp. I had my calves crushed by massive rocks and I'm still standing (even if not with great pleasure).

'Yeah, some were good and some were bad', Lok admits, not so moved. He can act light-heartedly all he wants, but he couldn't have seen his own face when the ring of Arc had released him from its grip.

'Mine were all bad', Sophie confesses in a whisper, curling. 'Really bad…'

'Oh… hey, all those visions meant nothing, OK?', the boys calms her down awkwardly. 'All that seeing the future stuff is just a story!'

'Right', Sophie tries to convince herself to that at any cost. 'It was only a cursed ring!'

Yeah. Only a cursed ring. It means nothing that it caused confusion within me. It couldn't do anything more than that. Now it's not a danger anymore. I form my future on my own, it's not shaped by some stupid trinket.

'You know, you two were something to see today!', Cherit praises them suddenly, landing on Sophie'a armchair. I guess he's trying to drag them away from unpleasant topics.

'Yeah, Sophie!', Lok picked it up willingly; he's such an optimist, he hates talking about difficult matters. 'Using that spell you've only read about, and on the first try! You were great!', he sucks up to her, that's obvious. He'd say anything to make the Casterwill look at him more favorably.

'What about you?', she repays him, apparently with more spirit. 'Psyching out those Suits, leaping from the pit… You're like a real Seeker or something!', she mocks him; the fly in the ointment…

'Don't sound so surprised!', Lok bridles. 'I'm gonna give Dante a run for his money… someday…!'

'Sure you are', she throws leniently. 'Right after Cherit beats Caliban in armwrestling…'

I have great fun due to their raptures. They're completely forgetting that that's the two of us who took the whole weight of the action. Well, nevermind. I can stay the power behind the throne. I'm used to that.

'You were quite amazing yourself today, Zhalia.'

I shiver a bit, surprised by a brush of someone's breath against my ear. I turn around, just noticing that Dante has been standing behind me for few minutes already and also listening to the kids' bantering. I should realize it; Gareon started to wriggle strangely. I calm him down, patting his scraggy side, but he still hisses with hostility. Well, at least I tried.

'Thanks', I throw to Dante with a light smile, ignoring my grumpy pet. 'You also showed your stuff. No wonder Guggenheim chose you for that task.'

'I wouldn't have done much on my own', he shakes his head. 'That's thanks to our teamwork that everything went according to the plan. And thanks to that little fellow here', he reaches his hand out to scratch Gareon's head; at that sight, two sparks ignite in the Titan's eyes.

And now Dante's got some comeuppance.

'Oooouch!', he hisses, pulling away rapidly and shaking his hand. 'He's bitten me!'

'Gareon!', I snap at the Titan, congratulating him on that move in my mind, though. 'Bad boy! Come back to the amulet at once!'

The gecko throws Dante a mean glare and obediently disappears from my arms.

'I'm sorry', I say to Vale, though I itch to burst into laughter so badly, seeing his face of an offended five-years-old. 'He feels kinda… out of sorts.'

'I noticed as much…', he murmurs mockingly, watching his hand; there's a semicircular, still bleeding trace of teeth on the loose skin between his index finger and the thumb.

'Should I kiss it better?', I ask playfully, biting my lower lip seductively. My chance to flirt a little.

'I don't think so.'

Sophie breaks the perfect moment to cast my net. Bitch. She is fainting the whole time, and when she sees me next to Dante, a berserk wakes up within her!

'Oh, you've suddenly regained your strength', I remark ironically.

'Fortunately, otherwise Dante wouldn't get out of here safely', she grunts, taking the man's left hand. 'I'll dress it.'

'There's no need to', Dante calms her down, taking his hand back and hiding it in his cloak's pocket. 'That's just a mere nip.'

'I wouldn't say so', Cherit judges. 'Someone should teach Gareon some manners… Maybe I should talk some sense into him?'

'He'd bite your paw whole', I warn him.

The small gargoyle lowers his sticking-out ears, not very pleased with such a vision. Sophie's face also indicates troubles.

'Not only Gareon needs some savoir-vivre lessons', she comments cuttingly. 'Like master, like man.'

I bridle; that remark pricks like a sting, and it doesn't want to let go. For the first time after a while I don't know what to say. I'd love to deny comparing me to my irritable, introverted Titan, but I can't – I'm too well-aware that we've got much in common. We both have to hide in order to survive, otherwise we will get crushed. We both scare people away. And we both know how to bite when they cross certain borders.

'Sophie, that's enough', Dante cuts the quarrel; I'm delighted with his face, full of remorse. Oh, my knight on the white stallion, really. You always exaggerate your role in such clashes. 'Let's not make a fuss about nothing.'

'Of course', Sophie agrees exceptionally obediently. 'After all, we'll go separate ways soon… we can't end our cooperation with an argument', she adds spitefully.

I purse my lips into a thin line and turn at my heel.

'Hurry up, will you?', I throw wryly above my arm. 'I want to be in Venice before midnight.'

The same day, 22:16

The Paris-Venice flight

Still above France

Zhalia hadn't spoken a word since they left Notre Dame. She had stubbornly been ignoring every remarks and questions addressed to her. She had been quiet during the way to the airport and hadn't let them drag her into the talk when they came abroad. She seemed pleased to take a seat apart from the rest - most distant she could have probably gotten - showing them trenchantly that she had had enough of them. She had been sitting in the same position for one and half an hour, with her elbows leaning over the window frame and her eyes fixed on the layer of dark clouds.

The kids hadn't paid much attention to her behavior. Sophie even seemed content with how things had turned out. The victory, which she, in her opinion, gained over Zhalia, had disposed her more kindly towards the rest of the world. She was attentively listening to Lok's story about the researcher's corpses found in the underground and patiently answered his questions about the French Revolution. Cherit's companionship had fallen to Dante. Given that they were almost alone abroad, excluding a few sleeping passengers, the gargoyle could have left Lok's bag; now he sat on the seat with his head leaning on his paws and also observed agent Moon. Similarly to her, he didn't have the happiest face.

'Fancy a snack, Cherit?', Dante reeled up to him gently; he decided to cheer up at least one depressed comrade. 'I've left a cookie from the supper, especially for you.'

'Thank you', the little fellow muttered bleakly, 'but I don't have an appetite.'

'What are you worried about?', Vale asked. Cherit refusing a meal was such a rare phenomenon that it had to have a serious reason.

'I have a feeling that Zhalia is still angry with me for this incident with a trap', he confessed cheerlessly. 'I've been trying to apologize, but she just turned me away. She's really annoyed.'

'Don't worry', he comforted him. 'That's not because of you. She had a tough day. Let her cool a bit.'

The Titan nodded, but didn't seem convinced. Dante was silent for some time. He also had a hunch that something bothers Zhalia, he just didn't know what exactly was that. Did Sophie's remarks add insult to the injury? He seriously doubted it. Until now, she had been taking them haughtily and hit back. However, she apparently struggled with something. She hadn't spoken even to him, though not so long ago they were joking like usual. Had she guessed that he put her to the test in the catacombs, entrusting the ring of Arc to her, and she resented him?

He moved anxiously. He didn't feel good with what he'd done either. He tried to explain to himself that it was for the mission's sake, but… in reality, he had just wanted to silence the doubts aroused by Sophie's remarks and Zhalia's strange actions. He also noticed her peculiar changeability – one second she had been completely loose and chattered with him like an old acquaintance, the moment after she had been tensing and repulsed him even with her stare. He didn't understand it and that's why disturbing thoughts were created in his mind. They pushed him into putting her into the risky test… which she had passed with flying colors, causing him to feel ashamed of his previous suspicions.

However, he still didn't feel completely calm. Some kind of anxiety couldn't have been erased; it was as distinct and noticeable as the trace of Gareon's teeth on his hand.

He hesitated, peeled his eyes off the red semicircle, then turned to the gargoyle again.

'Cherit', he began. 'Could you give me an answer to one question?'

'I can't promise…', the small fellow responded tentatively, raising his little head and looking at him enquiringly with his eyes as big as table tennis balls. 'But I'll try.'

Vale knew it would be neither easy nor pleasant. But the answer niggled him, so he braced himself and threw quickly:

'What do you think about Zhalia?'

Cherit blinked few times, as if he didn't anticipated such an issue. He stared at Vale, waiting for him to take the question back, laugh it off, waving his hand and telling him to forget that. But Dante didn't do that, so the Titan furrowed his brow, thinking intensively.

'She's a very efficient Seeker', he started cautiously. 'And she seems intelligent. Though a bit secretive as well. She's not the life and soul of the party, but she can listen. When she says something, it is usually a relevant remark… even if sore.'

Dante nodded. The description tallied with own opinion so far.

'However, her Gareon gives me creeps', the Titan murmured, moving his wings nervously. 'He's such an unpleasant monstrosity… You know it best.'

Vale smiled faintly, though he didn't feel any joy thinking about the next question.

'And what do you think about Sophie's fears? Do they seem justified for you? I mean… does Zhalia really act suspicious in your opinion?', he investigated.

'I don't know what you mean by 'suspicious'', the gargoyle said honestly. 'For me, all the people behave strangely.'

Dante sighed; that was an apt remark. He couldn't demand from Cherit to judge Zhalia applying human standards.

'I'll try to express it in other way', he informed. 'Just… just warning you – it may sound a bit rough.' Cherit nodded, ready for everything. 'If there was such a possibility… if you were like other Titans…', he fouled, completely not in his style, 'you get it?'

'If my power was contained in an amulet and could be released only by a Seeker, right?', the gargoyle guessed; his voice had become even higher, as if speaking about it was very stressful for him.

Dante nodded, not willing to develop that painful description. He broke the talk for a moment; did he really have to dwell upon the issue which was so hard for Cherit?

'Would you let Zhalia bond with you?', he threw quickly not to change his mind.

The gargoyle now deserved such a name, resembling his still, stone cousins from the temples. His eyes looked like two huge yellow bulbs. Very surprised, embarrassed and scared bulbs. Dante felt stupid.

'I'm sorry', he peeked aside and covered his face with the hand, angry with himself; curiosity killed the cat… 'Seekers can be so insensitive when they want to learn about something at any cost. Don't answer if you don't want to', he said quickly.

Cherit shook his head so hard his fluffy ears flapped.

'I'd like to', the confused Titan responded, leaning his nut on the paw, 'but… I don't quite know how to express it.'

'Just try it', Vale insisted.

'Let's put it that way… that Zhalia isn't the best kind of a Seeker for me', he said, choosing words cautiously.

'What do you mean by that?', the man got interested.

'What is your favorite ice cream flavor?', Cherit parried suddenly.

'Chocolate', Dante responded mechanically. 'But what does it have to do with…'

'And why?', the gargoyle didn't let him finish the sentence.

Dante thought about it, then shrugged.

'I don't know. I just like it, I've liked it since I was a kid, that's all. But what does it have to do with…'

'That's exactly what I'm talking about', the gargoyle said with emphasis. 'Just like you can't say why you like this and not any other cream flavor the most, I can't tell you why I could bond with one Seeker and not another one. Though I haven't been bonded with any Seeker for such a long time that I forgot how it is like and what was important when making the choice, but…'

He stared through the window, thinking intensely.

'You people base most of your actions on your personal judgement, on your moral code…', he continued pensively. 'We Titans do not know much about what you people perceive as good and evil, we're more… neutral... in a sense. The majority of us Titans just tend to bond with the Seekers that would put our qualities to the best use. Of course, there are exceptions, like Titans corrupted by the evil of their Seekers, or those who were tamed by them and shared their mindset; influenced by their soulmates so much they forgot their own purpose. However, their development is based on that one simple initial choice; an impulse that makes everything clear.'

The Titan heaved a sigh.

'That's just the way it is, Dante. I can't explain that. I'm a Titan, it's simply natural for me. That's just as if you tried to explain to me how your emotions work. Or how you breathe. You simply know it. And I know that I couldn't form a bond with Zhalia.'

Dante sighed as well. He didn't await such an answer. But he asked for it himself.

'I'm sorry I can't help you', Cherit spoke when the silence had gotten heavy. He was apparently discomfited; he moved the tip of his tail left and right nervously.

'You said enough', Vale assured to fortify him. 'Thank you. Take it', he draw one callison cookie from his pocket. 'To lighten your mood.'

Titan accepted the gift, but didn't sink his teeth into it immediately, like he used to do with all the sweets. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Dante.

'Now you seem worried', he stated sadly, proving that not every human behavior was a mystery for him.

Dante didn't say anything, turning to the window. In the windowpane, he saw his face contorted with anxiety; it was so strange for him because he had been rarely getting so tense.

He twitched, lightly poked in the elbow.

'Here you go', Cherit was reaching a half of the cookie out to him, pouring the crumbs onto the upholstery. 'You also need some comfort.'

Dante forced a smile and stroked his head with his finger, taking the gift with gratitude. He didn't really feel like eating it, but he didn't want to be rude towards Cherit again – he was aware how much it had cost the small buddy to part with a piece of the snack. The cookie was delicious as always, but nothing would taste good enough for Dante now. He swallowed it, though, trying to overcome the bitterness in his throat when he observed a tip of dark-haired head and a bit of slim female back.

What is wrong with you, Zhalia Moon?...