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!

12. Chapter 12: (Un)deserved Trust

Hi my dear Readers!

Since you gave only positive responds to the idea of updating only the half of the chapter, I decided to repeat that move. I wrote too much to translate it in just one weekend, I'll need some more time to do so. I'm not sure how much, though. I'll be a bit busy this week, and the next one too. But I promise I'll do everything not to let you down.

To sweeten the wait for the other half, I'll answer your comments:

- CindyKayla: Yay, that's great that you praised the part I liked so much! I always like to write about Zhalia and Klaus (of course my favourite thing is Dante-Zhalia relationship, but there must be a break between their interactions, right?), because their bond is so difficult and painful, so bittersweet. Zhalia struggles with her loyalty for Klaus and meeting his exceptations and the mad scientist fights with care for her and carrying out his orders. But they need and cherish each other. I just know it. It's just... hard for someone as emotionally scarred as them to express it.

Yeah, Dante's so helpless when it comes to outgoing women ^^ It makes him a bit shy... He got out of practice, like he said. But he's a man, right? Even if he doesn't express it, he sees women not only like comrades.

I guess the fights in Huntik are very violent to M-rate them ^^ No blood, no ripped flesh, no broken bones... no injuries at all! Only a bandaged head once. The story is M-rated because there's a vulgar language sometimes and I plan to stuff some intimate moments into it...

- Joey8: Glad to know the scene with butterflies turned out well! I was afraid that it might be too gross, sweet, mushy and far-fetched. I tried not to overdo the way they treat each other - like, for example, hugging. I thought that if Dante hugged Zhalia, it'd be unbelievable. She has her highs and lows and may not detest Dante as much as before, but I don't think she would like to be touched by any man right after she was hurt so badly. And Dante isn't that kind of man to force his way towards women. Like you, I think he's too gentle and tactful, respects Zhalia's feelings and understands her behaviour.

Well, since the 'nut' matter isn't settled, I'll leave it like that. If you find something new about it, I'll consider it.

Kanji drills aren't my favourite thing in learning Japanese, but well, that's just the way the studies are :)

- Kimberly: I always wait patiently for reviews, so don't worry :) I just thought I should clear misunderstandings. I know that Klaus doesn't act fine towards Zhalia. But I guess he's not doing that only because he is evil. He's rather... confused. He doesn't know how to make Zhalia listen to him in another way, so he uses violence. It's easiest, but also makes him frustrated, as well as noticing that she's not as obedient as before... He doesn't want her to slide away from his fingers.

- Jess: I'd love to write Huntik scenario along with the original creators! I'd stuff as much DanteXZhalia as possible, but in an interesting way :) And I'd settle the matter with Klaus... it's sad he and Zhalia fell out. I don't blame him for treating her the way he does. I know it's wrong. I know he makes her suffer. But it's not like he really wants it. He just doesn't know what to do. He's not really a best father model... he has to learn a lot.

Honestly? I could keep this half waiting and update the whole chapter at once later. But I miss the pleasant feeling of reading your reviews, of keeping in touch with you. I need your support, especially now. And I'm not going to play a humble one - I love knowing that you like my story. I love realizing that we look at the series in a similar way. And I love spreading Huntik awesomeness!

Thanks a lot for being there for me! Enjoy and check this file because I'll post the second part here!

Sha

EDIT: 25th November

Here goes the second part!

I had to relax during memorizing kanjis and decided to translate the rest of the chapter. I want to hurry up so badly, knowing what interesting eps and my ideas wait for me! Just wait for the chapter in the Ireland, kukukuku~! ]:

- Joey8: sorry to disappoint you, but there's not very much of Zhalia/Dante intimacy. You know, with kids around and stuff... But I guess the next chapter (especially its last part) will be fine for you.
I stuffed the talk between Zhalia and Sophie here because I wanted to show that Zhalia is... a bit jealous! She'd like to be as naive and innocent as Sophie, but she's been through too much to believe in people. Especially in men. But it'll be written in the next chapters, can't specify in which one exactly. I've got just a rough plan of the story.
- Kimberly: It's not that I hate Sophie, actually... I know I portray her in the way that doesn't make her more likeable, but the truth is, my feelings towards her weren't friendly for the first half of the series. Though I don' really have a character I despise. I think that every one of the bring something fresh and interesting into the story. Just wait for Ryder and Scarlet, they'll mess around a lot ]: I guess most of you will hate Ryder...
- Jess: Yeah, I think that Dante has some moments when he just has to vent his anger somehow... but he doesn't feel well with being vulgar, so he apologizes right after ^^ And he usually swears in Italian, 'cause less people understand him, so, they don't feel offended by his words.

Yeah, Dante isn't such a fag when it comes to women ^^ I guess he took advantage on his charm and popularity many times... not in a wrong way, of course. He's a grown-up man, after all. It's not like he knew he'd meet Zhalia, so he waited for her crystal-clean, right? He knows what he wants from a woman, and he finds Zhalia attractive both physically and mentally. Even if now he treats it only like a mere flirt, maybe a friendship of sorts, but not a very romantic relationship. He's concerned because he likes her. And feels attracted to her, that's for sure.

As for translating the chapters: it depends. It usually takes one weekend to write and translate them, but not when I'm busy. And I am until Wednesday. You know, first kanji test. Hard luck. Keep your fingers crossed!

Thanks for all the comments! See you soon, I hope, and enjoy the last part!

Sha

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4th July 2009, Saturday, 9:15

Dante's house

Venice, Italy

Cherit looked up anxiously every few minutes, staring at the ceiling which was creaking as if it had been going to collapse. The noises coming from the second floor sounded as if an Irish dance competition had been organized there. Meanwhile the Titan's attention was also caught by the biscuit held in both paws, half-eaten and still luring with its light inside. Torn apart between fear and gluttony, the little fellow decided to get rid at least of one stimulus. And it wasn't the cookie.

'Is it really a good idea to let them train without any supervision?', he wondered out loud, looking at Dante.

The man hadn't even raised his stare from above the holotome; he was clicking on the keyboard doggedly, like a pianist with a fast-running metronome. The device, just like a broken piano, was squealing and beeping. Cherit made an unsatisfied face, not very pleased that his doubts had been ignored for the apparently broken equipment.

'Aren't you worried that Lok and Sophie may get hurt?', he added more loudly, trying to attract Vale's attention.

'They've been training for few days already and got only several bruises. Sparring won't harm them. Harder they damage each other now, faster they'll learn how to avoid that', Dante shrugged, catching his chin and scratching it pensively. He furrowed his brow, observing the info moving across the screen.

'It's not helping Lok', Cherit remarked. 'He's not making any progress. He should learn from Sophie, meanwhile…'

'I don't think it'd work', Dante smirked patronizingly, though he still seemed to be spirited away. 'Not with her attitude focusing on showing off instead of helping him.'

'So, why won't you take care of that yourself?', the Titan wondered.

'First, Lok wouldn't handle my training in that state. He should end up being a couch potato before. Then I'll buckle him down to work.'

'And second?', Cherit crossed his arms on his chest, a little disappointed with that answer.

'Second…', Vale murmured, hitting the keys, 'I am… a bit… busy… now…', he drawled with his fingers dancing on the keyboard. 'Merda!', he cursed in Italian.

The Titan twitched – though he didn't know the language well, the meaning of that exclamation was too clear. It surprised him even more, coming from the mouth of the cool, cautious man.

Dante realized his gaffe and cleared his throat in embarrassment.

'I'm sorry', he murmured. 'I just need a piece of info', he explained, feeling the Titan's reproaching gaze, 'and that stupid thing is still…', he stopped and hit certain key, looking at the error communiqué on the background of the document with frustration.

'Maybe you should ask Guggenheim?', Cherit suggested, forgiving his friend that previous outburst magnanimously.

The proposition was worth considering.

'I'll try', Vale accepted and was about to stand up to use the bigger LCD screen hanging on the wall, but suddenly it brightened and showed the wide, straightforward face of the Foundation chef.

'Telepathy!', Cherit beamed. 'Dante was about to call you, and here you go! You're a bit similar to the Titans if you can communicate in your heads even from such a distance!'

A smile flickered on Guggenheim's lips when the Swiss heard that conclusion.

'Talk of the devil and the devil arrives!', he commented. 'I guess we had the same idea in the same time. I don't know if I should consider it a sign of my intuition or your professionalism, Dante, letting you sense the mission from far away! After all, you're our prodigy for a reason!'

'I think that it's in vain', Vale threw wryly, 'if after all those years of working hard for Huntik I'm still treated like a mere newbie.'

'What do you mean by that?', the Swiss asked in surprise.

'This', he turned the holotome to Guggenheim and pushed it closer to the screen, showing his friend the banned site. The Swiss squinted his eyes, trying to read the small letters. Dante pushed some button; it caused the holotome to speak with a cool, female voice:

'Access denied, section: 'Zhalia Moon: current location' unavailable. Too low ID number priority.'

The Swiss raised his eyebrows.

'And what's so startling?', he wondered. 'You don't expect us to allow our operatives, even those pro, to disturb their colleagues' privacy, do you?'

'I just expect to have an opportunity to contact the person who has become a part of my team recently', he responded a bit too sharply.

Even if Guggenheim was shocked by his reaction, he didn't show any signs of it. He just smirked.

'Well, I thought that you took care of it yourself', he murmured with a strange amusement which was accompanying him every time they were talking about Zhalia. 'You have her phone number.'

Vale automatically peeked at the phone laying on the frame of his armchair.

'She's not been answering me for few days', he said impatiently.

That was true. The cell was staying silent stubbornly. And even if it had been speaking, it wasn't the voice Dante had expected. His calls and messages were left unanswered. Zhalia hadn't even forced herself to send him a curt text, just a short, soothing info that she was alive even if she wasn't too fine.

At first he had put that ignorance down to exhaustion and discouragement; after the last vicissitudes the woman had a right not to beam with enthusiasm, especially because the trip back from Vienna passed in quite a tense atmosphere. Sophie had held a grudge against her, offended by the vulgar treatment; Lok hadn't crossed her way, as if she had been something worse than a black cat. Zhalia, apparently running out of words after her blunt performance, had pursed her lips and turned her back to the rest, sensing their unfriendly attitude. Or maybe just hiding her bruised face?

They had parted their ways rather chillily, mostly thanks to agent Moon herself; she had just collected her luggage and catching a random taxi, moved away with a speed of light, not even throwing an ostentatious 'See you'. Dante didn't know if she had wanted to show them her disregard and scorn by that or if she had just wanted to disappear from before their eyes as fast as she could. He hadn't even managed to let out a single word, and the car had vanished at the end of the street, taking Zhalia who knows where.

However, after three days without any news, he stated that it couldn't go any further. Three days without any sign of life should be disturbing even when everything was supposed to go smoothly, and Dante knew already that something in Zhalia's life had gotten messed up terribly. And he didn't want just to wonder if she had already gotten rid of it or if the trouble had overwhelmed her, making her unwilling – or unable?! – to answer the phone. He had to make sure if everything was alright. But how, not having a clue how to contact her in a different way that through the phone?

He needed just an address where he could find her. Every operative had to update that kind of info to let the Foundation locate them easily in the time of need. He had hoped that as a top operative, he would be able to unlock them. Unluckily, he had miscalculated it badly and wasn't going to hide that it had stung him. He didn't expect Huntik to give him special attentions, prepare a red carpet when he was passing by, admiration, waiting on him. After all, he didn't deserve that – he owed to the Foundation as much as it did to him, so they were even. But now he was ready to argue about that one privilege, even if it meant playing a spoiled superstar who wouldn't risk anything without the right payment. Well, some matters needed sacrifices.

Luckily it wasn't one of that cases.

'Oh', the Swiss said in surprise. 'That's a problem. To be honest, I thought that I'd convince her to go as well. That's a really serious mission. You'd need some support.'

He hesitated for a while.

'I guess that in that special case…', he started and stopped, looking for something on his desk. In a second, Dante's holotome beeped quietly. The error communiqué disappeared, uncovering Zhalia's profile with the unlocked address.

'Is that enough?', the Swiss asked.

Vale read the info and nodded. He knew where to look for that hotel.

'Certainly', he responded, satisfied, leaning back to the armchair's headrest and laying on it nonchalantly. 'So… what's the mission?', he asked ostentatiously, putting his legs on the table.

The same day, 10:30

Room 49 in Al Ponte Antico Hotel

Venice, Italy

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

And so on, like a few hundreds of thousands times during last four days.

Surprised that I know?

I haven't had anything better to do apart from listening to the clock's ticking.

Or rather: I convinced myself perfectly that I haven't if I can just bundle under a thick blanket and don't come out until someone forces me to do so.

I took care of having some peace. I reported to Klaus about my last moves towards Dante, embroidering them a bit. The mad scientist swallowed them without suspecting anything, apparently certain that after the 'lesson' he taught me I wouldn't dare to cheat him. Or just thinking that he overdid it last time and giving me some credit as a redress. This or that, now he's convinced that Vale almost whimpers for my attentions, and he doesn't disturb me, sure that I'm using it the right way.

I didn't lie to him completely. There's some truth in it. After all, Dante has been calling me every few hours for three days. The phone felt silent just today morning. Or maybe the battery got empty, don't know. I don't give a damn. I was disconnecting the calls and deleting the texts without reading them nevertheless.

I don't need his f*cking care. I'm not one of his weeping, miserable clients who would sob into his sleeve and stick to him just because he plays a psychologist, therapist, social service worker and policeman at once.

I'm not some emotionally unstable madwoman with an inferiority complex. It's just that sometimes there are days when you don't even want to exist. You just need to wait for them to stop and everything will come back to normal… won't it?

I turn to my right side; Gareon hisses when I crush his tail and peeks at me with reproach. I pull him closer and brush my cheek against his lumpy body. Earlier, when my whole jaw was still aching, the touch of his cold skin was bringing me relief, but now when the swelling disappeared and the pain stopped, I state that a soft, fluffy cat would be better to hug, unlike such a bone-stinging lizard. Though a beautiful Siamese tom would probably die from starvation by my side. How could I remember about feeding it if I skipped the meals myself lately? Gareon wins because he doesn't have to eat.

Suddenly the phone rings. Not mine, the one in the hotel room. Screw yourself. I would have to get up to answer it. I don't feel like. I said I'm not here for anyone. I don't need a cleaning lady. I just need some damned peace. And maybe a bottle of wine. Oh yeah. It'd be nice to be bothered by hangover more than by my thoughts.

The signal stops, then rings again. I try to ignore it, coming back to counting the passing seconds. It doesn't help. I raise on my elbow unwillingly and pull the cable out of the socket with one tug. The irritating beep gets silent. I bundle again, clenching my fists and pressing them to my forehead to make them stop trembling.

The hotel staff, asking about the bedclothes change, calls me more often than my carer, who should be just a bit interested if I still have his 'souvenir' on my face, meanwhile he was fine with the info that I'm acting as a bed heater for his dream victim. Well, even the prey almost storms me with calls, unlike someone who has known me since my childhood and was supposed to care for me more than for his monstrous pets, like stinging slugs and man-eating sundews…

What a farce.

What a tragedy.

But I won't cry because of it, right?...

When the first tear comes out from under my eyelid, someone knocks to the door.

I grit my teeth, chewing the curse in my mouth. The melancholy disappears, replaced by increasing anger. Hell, can't anyone really be alone for a while?! I jump from under the blanket with a panther-like leap and pounce at the door, unlocking them with one move.

'I told you', I growl, opening them rapidly, 'not to let anyone…'

I get flabbergasted in the middle of the sentence; my hand hangs loosely on the handle, my knees fail me. I guess that's because I gave up on breakfast. Or rather, approximately on ten meals. Maybe that's why I have hallucinations. It's impossible that Dante Vale could stand at my door…

Sadly, I comprehend that I haven't know anyone with that eye color until now. And that it has never matched such a lame duster.

'Good morning, Zhalia', Dante smiles hesitantly, looking me up and down.

I realize that his hesitation is justified. My greasy hair probably looks like a stray cat's fur and my tired face without any make-up must've gotten the color of vomit. I'm not sure if this T-shirt is covering my grayish shorts. Additionally, I don't wear a bra. And I'm afraid that it's visible. I cross my arms on my chest to hide it.

'What're you doing here?', I ask with as much dignity as possible despite being well-aware of my abnegation.

'You didn't answer my calls', he remarks, stopping to eye me and focusing on my face. 'I decided to check what's up with you.'

'That's not what I'm asking about', I throw a bit too sharply, trying to hide the fact that this honest declaration made me feel embarrassed. 'I told that receptionist idiot to tell any guests off.'

'I'm a Seeker', he reminds me, as if I didn't know. 'I have my ways to overcome such burdens.'

'Did you Simplemind her?', I interrogate him, not moving from my spot, still with my hand on the handle. I feel an itch to slam the door in front of his face and separate him from me, just not to wonder what he thinks seeing me in such a deplorable condition. But, why does it bother me, anyway?! In fact, I just don't give a shit about his company. He'd better clear off in no time.

'Well, it's not my favorite method, but since I didn't have another choice…', he shrugs, peeking inside the room above my head. 'If you are going to keep me in the hall, too bad I didn't bring a foldaway chair', he throws meaningfully.

I guess I won't manage to kick him out in a cultured way.

'Uh, of course', I correct myself and add reluctantly: 'Come in.'

Dante accepts the invitation gladly. Meanwhile my thoughts fly into a frenzy; they run amok from my oily hair to the bra which in theory should be on my chest, but in practice it changed its location to 'unspecified'. Where did I stuff it!? I must find it quickly, then catch some clothes and sneak out to the bathroom to put myself back together… I won't entertain Mr. Vale in a state of undress. At least not in such a miserable one. Why couldn't he choose a moment when I was stretching out lasciviously in a transparent nightgown?! Hm, maybe because I don't have one, and even if I did, I wouldn't put it on knowing I'm spending the night alone… Only an idiot would torture her with a laced bra in such a case; a normal woman would send it to hell and change it for a less flattering, but way more comfortable cotton one. Or give up on any annoying harness. Which, as seen on my example, isn't always the best idea.

Luckily, Dante looks around the room and doesn't pay attention to my boobs. What, on the other side, is irritating in some way. Does he really prefer the candelabra over my feminine curves?!

'Take a sit', I almost order him. Though I should rather make him sit on the fakir's bed due to his lack of admiration for my body's ups and downs.

'I'd rather resign from that', he turns to me and points at the sofa with a move of his head. Gareon, backing to the corner between the pillows, eyes him menacingly. He bent his back and hisses like an infuriated cat. 'I'm afraid that if I come closer, one of us won't survive that.'

'If it is Gareon, you won't dwell in this world for much longer', I warn him. 'If you hurt him, I'd rip your head off.'

It doesn't mean I won't do it nevertheless.

'Let's just avoid that risk', he responds deftly. 'I'll stand.'

I roll my eyes. It'd look more effectively if they weren't faded and surrounded by bags, and if I accentuated them with seductive make-up earlier. I nod to Gareon, telling him to leave the sofa. He protests, giving out a quiet, angry drone. To convince him, I order him to sink under the furniture and look for my bra. It should keep him busy and get me out of trouble at the same time. There's nothing better than killing two birds with one stone.

'Now you can sit without fearing about your bottom', I remark ostentatiously when the little one disappears under the chest of drawers.

Dante nods and lounges comfortably on the leather upholstery. Someone feels at home here…

'I've got a proposition for you', he announces, getting to the point finally. 'Guggenheim appointed my team to fulfill a mission. We're supposed to find the ship of the Argonauts. I thought that maybe… maybe you'd like to accompany us?', he says less formally. 'Of course if you don't want to, just say it', he adds quickly. 'Maybe… you need more rest… time…'

I know what he wants to ask me about, though he doesn't have enough courage, he can't choose right, gentle and tactful words, like he always manages to do. He has circled around the bruise topic since he arrived. His first stare was directed at my cheek. And his doubts are connected to my mood after the whole accident. He's not sure if I've already pulled myself together.

I'm not as well. But I know that I don't want him to take me for a wimp and a hysteric at any cost.

'Nope', I respond quickly. 'I need to keep my head busy, and that mission is perfect for that.'

He nods, still not taking his eyes off me. His irises are clouded by some strange shadow. Apparently, he's not convinced.

'It's just that… I have to change, get packed', I continue not to give him enough time for protests, questions. 'Uhm… can you give me an hour?', I propose. 'Just tell me where we're going to meet. I'll join you soon.'

'I'll wait for you', he responds calmly.

'You'll get bored', I warn him.

'I'm not a person who can't find himself anything to do', he throws soothingly.

'No one is if he has a cell phone with the newest version of Snake', I parry it ironically.

The corner of his mouth trembles, as if he was barely holding back a laughter.

'I'm glad you are willing to joke again', he remarks warmly. 'And that you didn't kick me out. I thought that's exactly what you would after three days of silence. That, I don't know, you didn't want to see me… or something.'

I feel myself tongue-tied. I hate that state.

'I…', I choke out, staring at my hands. 'I overdid it. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I felt down in the dumps. But I shouldn't have given you such a miss. You tried to contact me so many times, I could have just texted you.'

It's stupid. I didn't really want to do so. I didn't… unless he came here. And I realized that I blame myself for ignoring him. He visited me despite my attitude, after all.

'So, the next time', he starts gently, 'just don't keep me in suspense for so much time. Remember that if you stop showing any signs of life, I won't hesitate to visit you again. I guess it should scare you', he says jokingly, then asks in a more serious way: 'Though I hope there won't be any reasons for worrying… that everything turned out fine.'

I turn my head aside. I'm not sure if I can say so. The bruise disappeared, that's true. And if I listen to Klaus, there won't be any swellings more.

'Yeah, everything's alright', I respond cheerfully. 'The bad mood's already gone. I'm ready for new challenges!', I gather my clothes energetically, choosing only those which are in quite an usable state. I notice with content that the invisible Gareon sneaked out to the bathroom, smuggling my bra there. Ufff… 'I'll be back in five minutes.'

Or maybe twenty.

The same day, 13:12

Velos Island, Greece

Zhalia sat on the bench with content, crossing her legs.

'Well, what a quick tempo we had', she stated, exposing her face to the sun. 'The speed of light, literally.'

Dante couldn't say so about her preparations for the mission. He had waited exactly forty five minutes before she had dealt with all her matters, but he didn't resent her. He knew the women too well to believe in their assurances that 'they'll be back soon'. Besides, he had been willing to give Zhalia as much time as she had needed to feel like the same go-ahead, self-confident woman whose face she was showing to the world every day.

To be honest, when she had opened the door for him, he had gotten scared. She hadn't look better than few days earlier. On the contrary, she had been twice as subdued, gray, nondescript. Unlike Zhalia. Such an ignorance simply didn't suit her. He had known she had had to have some serious reason to neglect herself like that, and he had been worried that she had been suffering alone for so long. Good thing he had come. Even if he hadn't helped her to come to terms with her problems, at least he stimulated her to some activities.

Besides… he had derived advantages from it as well. He listened to the lap of the shower with pleasure, imagining clouds of vapor filling the cabin, settling onto the pane, covering Zhalia from too bothersome stares of anyone who would find a way to overcome the barrier of the door lock (it could be done with Farslip)… or streams of cold water sliding down her body, between her breasts which without a bra, under a loose T-shirt seemed more pointed than round, but still luring to cup them in his hands…

He knew that he should have focused more on cheering her up than on such thoughts, but it hadn't been his fault that she had opened the door in such an informal outfit. His male brain picked out the info which was the most interesting for any guy. Now she had to reckon that there would be times when he would be insolently staring at her cleavage. Hm, though… she hadn't caught him red-handed yet…

However, listening to the hum of the hairdryer had been pleasant as well, though he wouldn't have minded if Zhalia had done her hair in his presence. That way, he could have observed her strands twining around her neck and head, inhale the smell of her shampoo with every breath he had taken. He loved the scent of women's hair. He'd like to know how Zhalia's hair smell, what it is like to touch them, what they look like before she tamed them. That curiosity forced out his mind the tempting images of her naked body, wrapped only in lather… Maybe that was better. After all, he had felt bad with the lone awareness that he had been acting like a horny fifteen-years-old.

'You've been fasting for so long, mac, so don't feel surprised', he stated patronizingly. 'You're such a damn ascetic lately.'

In reproaching himself, the worst thing was that his reproofs were painfully right.

When the bathroom door had opened and Zhalia had come in, leaving the hot, steamed interior behind and bringing a fleeting aroma of various shower gels, soaps and cosmetics with her, Dante had felt the corners of his mouth coming up without the contribution of his will; he couldn't have stopped them even if he had wanted to. If he wasn't a gentleman, he would have whistled in admiration. His eyes had followed her the whole time when she had been getting packed, and Dante couldn't have stopped eyeing her even when they had reached the airport and met the two young Seekers and Cherit. During the flight to Velos, he hadn't managed to praise her properly, but now, when they were alone and had gotten their part of the job done, he had a perfect opportunity. Especially because she looked more than favorably in the Greece sunbeams.

'Now I'm not wondering anymore if I hadn't mistaken the door', he threw, supporting his leg against the bench nonchalantly and leaning over to the woman. 'Operative Moon in full bloom! What did you do to that sourpuss who impersonated you? Did you drown her in the shower?'

'No, but I'll drown you instead if you don't stop teasing me', she promised, throwing him her hazel stare. However, he read from her expression that his joking compliments had come upon a breeding ground. 'In the loo', she added for a better effect. Then she looked around and corrected: 'Hm, though it'd be hard to find a toilet here… So, you'll swim in Stavropolous when we finally get there. You wanted to find Jason's journal so badly, I'll just help you do so.'

'I'm not teasing you', he assured her warmly. 'You look great.'

'And you're such a convincing liar', she smirked, but she seemed really pleased. Her eyes brightened; though it could have been just a benefit of some women's tricks. He was well-aware that the change in her looks hadn't occurred thanks to a swing of wand, just a careful make-up. He preferred her in the lighter styling, however, he stated that if putting on some face powder could have cheer her up a bit, he had nothing against it. The most important thing was that she felt better.

'That's sad that you've got such a bad opinion about men', he remarked. 'Do you really think we can only cheat?'

'I've got my reasons', she responded meaningfully, staring at the horizon, the clear, cerulean sky and the deeply sapphire sea. However, he knew what she was talking about. After all, there was still a thicker layer of foundation in the place where the red marking left by the hit had been before. As if she was afraid that it was still visible. It wasn't. It was the first thing he had checked when he saw her on the doorstep. He had had to. He had been afraid for so many days that when he finally found her, there would be more injuries…

'I hope it was a single case', he said seriously. 'If it ever happens again…'

'It won't', she interrupted him wryly. 'I won't let it happen.'

It closed his mouth. She had said it as if she had been suggesting him that she would manage on her own and she didn't need him at all. As if she had been slapping him for the faults of someone which was similar to Dante only in gender. As if she had been thinking that just because he was also powered by the testosterone, he praised every moves the hormone was pushing the other representatives of the male sex to. But then, she suddenly sighed and came down a peg or two.

'Don't bother', she threw in an unduly light voice. 'It's really over.'

'Because of me?', he asked, throwing out the doubt which had been tormenting him during the last days. 'Because of our meeting?'

The stings of remorse wouldn't let go off him if Zhalia, even unclearly, had admitted it. That he added to her suffering. It was not something he wanted for her. He valued this girl too much to endanger her in any way. Even accidentally.

Much to his shock, she burst into laughter, tilting her head back. It wasn't a joyful laugh. Rather a cynical chuckle.

'Give it a break', she cut short. 'We're all grown-up. No one normal larks around because of drinking coffee together.'

Dante saddened. Though he calmed down, knowing that he hadn't been the reason for Zhalia's troubles, he was stung that she treated their date so disrespectfully. What else did she expect from a man to look at him in a matrimonial way? He had never dared to think that she was one of those who were impressed by aggressive brutes or stuck-up smartasses, thinking that all women were their property. But maybe she was. Apparently he wasn't her type and all her moves were just a playing of a bored little girl. After all, she called him a loser once. He had to be so distant from her ideals.

Or maybe it was just a comfortable way to shake off her frustration, caused by her relationship? Maybe she tried to play with someone the way some other guy played with her? A nonsensical way to deal with problems, but it helped someone people not to go crazy. Nevermind how it was. The important thing was that it hurt Dante, damaged his pride. So that's why he acted so fine towards her? To let her laugh it off? To make her treat him like her scapegoat?

He straightened up. He wanted to turn around and leave her alone. Just for a moment. Strangely, he felt angry. With himself. With her. Just a bit. Though he felt bad with it, 'cause he was supposed to feel sympathy for her. She had a right to act suspiciously towards men. But why did she tar them all with the same brush?

'But I'm glad', she spoke suddenly in a more gentle voice, 'because now you will have a chance to hit on me without remorse…'

She surprised him. The anger vanished immediately, as if it had never been there, replaced by stun, disbelief. Dante didn't know what to say. Was it just a casual remark? Was he supposed to comment it somehow? Or maybe she was suggesting him something?

'What's the idea I'd like to do so?', he threw eventually, pulling himself together and trying to sound as nonchalantly as her.

'I don't know', she smiled lightly. 'Maybe it's just that the common agent imagines too much. Kind of a fan girl syndrome when a chick faces her idol.'

'I don't think you're my fan', he responded, fighting with a mix of joy, excitement and surprise which had come over him much to his irritation. 'At least you didn't let me notice that until now.'

'Well…', she lowered her leg, joined them together, leaned to him. 'You're right, I'm not. But I hope you don't choose objects of interest from among your fan club members?'

There was something so charming and appealing in her honest voice, in the smoothly tilted head, in the faint smile, that she completely broke his defenses. He couldn't blame her for biting remarks and haughty poses anymore, he simply couldn't.

'Just on the contrary', he gave the smile back. 'I avoid them at any cost. Which is visible…', he made a gesture with his head to point at Sophie, approaching them. 'Notice that I choose you as my support', he accentuated.

'How should I understand it?', she asked, piercing him with her attentive, hazel stare.

How should she…?

And how was he supposed to explain it to her if he wasn't sure himself?

The kids' arrival helped him out the troublesome situation.

'There's a river several miles north from the coast', Sophie informed them, followed by Lok.

'Yeah, it's called Staverpop-something-rather', the boy apparently hurried up with the announcement, wanting to pass on the news as soon as possible.

'The fishermen called it Stavropolous', Sophie corrected him.

'Right… Stavripooplose…', he tried to repeat, with poor effects.

'That's what we've got', Zhalia responded.

'It may be a local legend, but there's a chance the Argonauts sank their ships there, so no one else could use them', Dante joined in, content that the talk moved to the topics he felt more confident at. 'So… let's find out.'

The same day, 14:01

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

What a luck I accepted Dante's proposition and went to Greece! Though I don't have time for walks on the coast or sipping drinks in the beach pubs, but the motorboat ride and scuba diving are included in the mission's schedule. I can't complain. And I have to admit that it's way more better than turning into an untouchable bundle of unhappiness… If Klaus learnt about it, he would think that I was worried! No way! As a punishment, he'll discover that I'm having fun. What doesn't precludes carrying out my task in the meantime, of course.

Which is not so easy, given that I didn't look as a dream lover in the hotel. And that Dante didn't catch my clever allusion that I'm free and willing… He hasn't been paying attention to me since then, focused on the mission. Such a f*cking workaholic.

'I've input the available map data into the holotome', he informs us, showing the right plan.

'That's our best bet', I point at the river bend, where a large ship could fit in with no problem. 'Anywhere else it would've been spotted by now. Holotome, add a ship model right there.'

'Perfect fit!', Lok notices where the mock-up gets updated in the pointed place. Seems like I should get down to boatbuilding…

'We'll swim down and enter from this side', Dante instructs us, sliding his finger across the map. 'Even if the hole's been preserved by magic, we'll have to stay alert.'

'What if there's trouble?', Lok anticipates the facts. 'Can we invoke Titans underwater?'

'Of course!', Cherit, our infallible mine with knowledge about his fellows, responds. 'Just stick with heavy Titans, like Freelancer or Kilthane! They'll be able to walk along the bottom.'

Dante closes the holotome, apparently judging that everything is settled.

'Cherit, keep an eye out for unwanted guests', he says to the Titan. 'Everyone else, suit up.'

'Alright! I've always wanted to learn how to scuba dive!', Lok gets enthusiastic.

And I'd like to check finally what a beefcake Mr. Vale is.

'Wait a second', Sophie raises her index finger. 'Suit up? Maybe you could leave us alone first, boys?'

'Hm?', Lok exclaims, clueless like always. 'What do you mean?'

'Don't expect me to take my clothes off in front of you!', the girl bridles.

'Pheh', I snarl, exceptionally supporting Lok. 'I don't have nothing to hide.'

'That's true', Dante throws in with amusement.

I guess that means that in the hotel, he noticed the lacks in my clothing… but is that so important? He couldn't speak up more ambiguously. Sophie's jaw drops at that comment. I bet she imagines wild scenarios how Dante got that knowledge… Vale gets embarrassed, realizing in which way he could have been understood.

'I mean… any of you girls don't', he corrects quickly to save the situation, but it's too late.

'He's right, Sophie', Lok supports him willingly. 'You can suit up here…', he adds hopefully.

'Lok, you pervert!', the Casterwill growls, rapidly taking her sneaker off and throwing it at Lambert. 'Get out NOW!'

'Ouuuch!', the boy howls, hit right in the back of his neck. 'What was that for?! I just wanted to be nice!'

Sophie doesn't regard it as an extenuating circumstance. She doesn't stop the attack unless she forces the boy out onto the rocky coast. Cherit clears off alongside him. The Casterwill throws Lok's diving suit away and then lowers her arms, panting with anger.

'Alright, alright, I'll go voluntarily', Dante, the perpetrator of the whole mess, raises both his hands open in a defensive gesture. He picks up his suit and jumps into the river, landing smoothly on his feet.

'Hey, that's unfair!', I yell, leaning over the barrier. 'Don't leave me alone with that hysteric! She can throw me into the water or something!'

Sophie finds another bullet in the blink of an eye. I dodge it before it hits my head. Dante observes the belt with a metal buckle falling into the water, then raises his stare at me. And I've got a hunch he doesn't want to leave as well.

Letting my tits hang loose was worth it.

The same day, 14:27

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

Dante emerged from under the water, piercing the surface with his head, and took a big breath. Panting, he tightened Lok's grip on his neck and pulled him to the coast. The boy was worryingly heavy and paralyzed, like a balloon filled with water. Vale's heart throbbed in his chest, frightened. How could've he let it skip unnoticed that the boy had gotten lost?! Why hadn't he realize it earlier?! Nevermind he had been able to find him before he had run out of breath completely, stuff his mouthpiece in the boy's mouth and pull him to the surface; if he had been just a second late and something would happen to Lambert…

He quickly took off the protective glasses from the boy's face and put his ear next to the lad's chest. His heartbeat was a bit subdued, but rhythmical. Vale calmed down a bit; he straightened up and waited a moment, placing his goggles on his forehead; they started to squeeze his temples too tightly. Suddenly Lok twitched and choked, spitting out a small puddle.

'Oh my…', Cherit squeaked, appearing above Dante's head from nowhere and staring at his young friend with fear.

Luckily Lok quickly regained consciousness; he was throwing out the swallowed water, blinking and snorting. Dante supported him gently, helping him raise his head.

'What happened?!', Sophie, slipping on the wet stones, ran onto the bank; Zhalia emerged right after her.

'I got separated', the boy explained, still pale, coughing and hoarsing through the sore throat. 'The room started caving in… Didn't know what to do… I lost it…'

Dante placed a hand on his shoulder in a soothing gesture.

'Don't worry', he calmed him down leniently. 'You just felt a little out of your element, that's all.'

'I don't think he has an element', Zhalia stated bitingly, standing behind Sophie's back. 'He should know his own limits, for his own safety.'

'Speaking of limits, is there one on your rudeness?!', the girl cut back, for a change defending her peer like a lioness.

'It's too dangerous to go back in there', Dante interrupted the argument before it increased. 'The ship's unstable. We'll try something else tomorrow.'

'What's the plan?', Zhalia insisted; as always, she was the least preoccupied with Lok's accident and it was easy for her to get back to the mission.

'If we can't go down there, we'll bring the ship to us', Dante informed them, smiling mysteriously. 'But, like I said, tomorrow.'

Zhalia sighed with relief.

'Great', she stated, unzipping her suit a little. 'I'm starting to suffocate in this.'

It was easy to notice. Her suit covered looked like a second skin… just way more tight, especially on her hips and cleavage. It accentuated every strategic points of her body. Dante tried so hard not to look at the triangle where her thighs met, emphasized by the tight-fitting outfit.

'In this case, go and change', he advised them, trying to sound normal. 'If it gets windy, you'll catch a cold. We'll stay here and give you ladies some time.'

'That's right', the woman admitted, shaking her wet hair. 'Lok had enough attractions for today.'

Dante also wasn't sure if he would survive more. Especially coming from Zhalia.

The same day, 14:39

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

Sophie is exceptionally silent when we try to free ourselves from the diving suits. I can't put it down to the mouthpiece of the scuba tank, 'cause she's already taken it off. I peek at askance, intrigued by that unexpected change. The girl peeks at the bank above the stern every few minutes, observing it with her eyebrows knitted.

'Well, well, well', I mock her. 'First you protested so much and now you're regretting that he didn't stay to watch… What a hypocrite you are.'

She wriggles at that comment. It's the first time I spoke about her feelings so openly. I guess she didn't know her crush is so obvious that everyone sees it. However, she is clever enough to realize that denying it is pointless.

'And who's saying that', the girl snarls haughtily, unzipping the suit. 'The person who hides something from everyone.'

'At least I don't act like a prune', I throw patronizingly, pulling the flippers off.

'Because no one would believe you', she cuts back, taking off her gloves and sliding the suit down; it falls to her feet. 'Such clothes and make-up would be suitable for a… for a…'

I guess she is too prudish to say 'a whore', so I finish instead of her:

'A classy chick. Not a fifteen-years-old redhead with a silhouette like an asparagus. Really, honey', I start sweetly, 'do you think that even if Dante saw you right now, like this', I look her up and down, 'he'd see a woman in you?'

Sophie straightens up hesitantly, blinking in surprise and probably wondering what I mean. She lowers her head, observing her body, callously exposed, only with two small pieces of delicate, pinkish, laced underwear. It's slender, tall, strangely elongated, as if she grew up in height in a very short time. Like an awkward, callow nestling. From under the bra with ridiculously small cups (so what that it has push-ups?), her ribs are clearly visible; her legs are long, almost too slim, a bit grotesque in that bony silhouette. She has a very narrow waist, seeming terribly fragile; her pelvis has the same wideness. It's not a woman's body and every part of it speaks volumes to prove that. It's a body of a teenager. Sophie must see that, but she purses her lips, ready to fight.

'Is that so?', she throws haughtily. 'So how a REAL woman looks in your opinion?'

I smirk with a corner of my mouth. I pick up the gauntlet willingly, certain of my victory.

'Like that', I respond, tearing away my suit with one tug and staying only in my black panties and bra, with my hands leaning on my hips in triumph.

Sophie clenches her fists, observing me from head to foot. She stares jealously at the curve of my hips, barely buckled bra, waistline. Her silhouette lacks all those nubile shapes which attract men so much. Even she can realize the difference and blushes more and more.

'Now you see, kitten?', I ask with the same lovely voice. 'Give it up and play with boys your age. You'll be fine enough for them.'

'A beautiful body is not everything', she murmurs under her breath, glowering at me. 'And it is not certain that I will never have one. My organism is still changing. Besides… there's something more than that…'

'Don't delude yourself', I extinguish her belief scornfully. 'You've read too many fairytales where the prince was fine with just a kiss, married the princess and they lived happily ever after. But in the real life, there aren't princes. There are just ordinary guys with ordinary needs, which have nothing to do with cute stories about lofty feelings…'

'Dante is not like that', she defends herself – and, at the same time, Vale. 'He… he doesn't pay attention only to that…'

'Maybe', I fob it off with a wave of hand, 'but anyway, those details really make him wired…'

Sophie gets stunned, goggling her eyes out; they start to shine strangely. She blinks quickly when the tears of fury, pain and humiliation appear on her eyelashes. She bends to her clothes, abandoned onboard, trying to hide those treacherous salty little streams sliding down her chin.

'You know nothing about him!', she bursts finally, struggling with her skirt. 'You think you do, but you don't have a slightest idea…!', she puts her blouse on, her hands shake when she tries to button it up. 'Maybe you didn't have contact with anyone of his sort before, but it doesn't mean that… that you can measure him in the same way like the others! You don't have a right to…', she gets flabbergasted, she has to take a breath.

I'm about to burst into laughter. Her naivety, her innocence, her trust… It's so ridiculous. She doesn't know life at all. She doesn't know men. She don't have a clue how cruel they can be. Even those who seem so chivalrous on the surface. You'll never know their real self. A well-mannered, sophisticated businessman who treats you with fancy meals and talks about ancient art, behind the closed door can turn out to be a violent bastard who will nail you to the bed and stuff his c*ck into your pussy without a scrap of foreplay, ignoring your protests, saying that you're a filthy bitch born only for that…

I shake my head slowly.

'Forget it, Sophie', I advise her wryly. 'You can't change the way it is.'

She takes shallow, short gulps of air, standing in front of me hopelessly, not finding another arguments against my cynical smirk. She swallows her tears and raises her head bravely.

'He'll notice me finally', she states with all her might, brushing her eyes with her fists. 'He will… You'll see it soon!', she adds insolently.

Some people never learn.

'I can't wait', I laugh patronizingly, trying to sound biting.

We'll see who wins this competition. Tomorrow.

5th July 2009, Sunday, 10:15

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

'Alright, team', Dante stood up after the finished breakfast. 'Let's get back to work.'

The whole four nodded. Lok jumped to his feet willingly, ready to wipe away his yesterday failure. Only Sophie was ahead of him, jerking up as if she had been sitting on some springs. Zhalia straightened up smoothly, without any rush.

'Everyone knows what to do?', Vale asked. They nodded again. 'So, we're going to suit up on the bank. We'll leave the board for you ladies', he appointed chivalrously.

'I'm going with you', Zhalia decided suddenly, grabbing her suit. 'The princess can use her wardrobe.'

'There's no need to', the Casterwill cut in unexpectedly. 'You can stay', she informed them generously. 'I don't mind.'

Dante and Lok exchanged stares, surprised by that change. Cherit also looked puzzled, but he just opened his arms, as if he had wanted to quote a famous aria composed by Dante's countryman: 'La donna e mobile!'. Who would argue with a classic?

'If that's so', Vale shrugged and took off his sweater and T-shirt without unnecessary hesitation.

He noticed with the corner of his eyes that the girls were observing him askance, which didn't mean shyly… On the contrary, their gazes were very… importunate. Dante didn't have any complexes, however, he felt strange under such a careful examination. He caught Zhalia's stare, raised his eyebrows enquiringly. The woman just smiled, looking his torso up and down and licking her lips in a very sensual way. Then she took off her boots. Untied the bandanna from her neck. Dante got paralyzed with his hands on the belt buckle when she undid her jeans and slid from them easily. And when she took her blouse off…

Lok's jaw dropped. Standing on the one leg with one feet tangled in his trousers, he faltered, lost balance and fell down on the deck.

'Oh blimey!', it spurted out from his throat. Even laying astride like a frog, he couldn't take his eyes off Zhalia.

Dante couldn't blame him. It crossed his mind that lately he had seen such an attractive picture only on the cover of June magazine for men. Though he wasn't a devoted reader of that kind of papers, he remembered clearly how during shopping, a beautiful, voluptuous brunette, bending seductively in the satin sheets, had flashed before his eyes in the magazine section. He knew he should have made allowances for such photos – the graphic programs did their job – so he hadn't paid much attention to it. Now any conning or distortions were out of question, though. There was a woman of flesh and blood standing in front of him, additionally, he had known her for few weeks already and could certify that she wasn't just a dreamed-up being created due to the needs of thousands horny guys.

However, he would have never thought that a woman so close to the ideals without any corrections and embellishing had existed anywhere. But seemed like she did - and stood right in front of him. Zhalia was devilishly attractive, picture postcard shapely, literally like from some photo session for a magazine, and not a girlie, rather a high fashion one. The only thing she and the porn models had in common was a perfect silhouette coming right from men's fantasies. Her petite shoulders changed harmoniously into a nubile rise of her breasts, imprisoned in a simple, black bra. Her flat, muscled belly was a great prelude for a gentle rounding of her hips, narrowing into the slender, smooth thighs and slim calves. And that tush… It couldn't have slipped unnoticed earlier, when it was swathed in her close-fitting jeans or a skin-tight diving suit, but now, barely covered by the skimpy knickers, appeared as a bait too alluring to resist it. She was exactly one of the women who didn't let men sleep. Even if they sentenced them only to hankering in the sleepless nights and fleeting erotic dreams without fruition…

He pretended to look aside when Zhalia peeked behind above her shoulder. He didn't want her to read his expression, which must've been too clear and easy to decipher now.

'Is something wrong?', she asked innocently.

'Of course not!', Lok denied warmly, finally freeing himself from his trousers. 'Everything is perfectly fine…', he added, blushing more and more when he stood up and eyed new parts of the woman's body.

Agent Moon smiled with content and put her suit on. She reached to her back, trying to catch the zip. She fought with it for a moment, but managed to jerk it up only few centimeters. Finally, she gave up.

'Can you help me?', she asked Dante.

Vale nodded, glad that he hadn't taken his trousers off yet. His opinion about the view spreading in front of him could have been… too obvious for the rest of the audience if he had the suit on; it stuck to the trouble spots too tightly. A camouflage wouldn't harm him… just in case. He caught the pendant attached to the zip and for a moment, fought with a desire to yank it down. He resisted somehow and zipped it to the end calmly.

'Thanks', she said, pulling her hair out of the collar. The strands touched his cheeks fleetingly. They smelled of oranges. A bit bitter, a bit sweet. But he couldn't specify which one dominated.

Sophie cleared her throat meaningfully. Dante blinked and looked at her.

'I won't manage on my own as well', she remarked suggestively.

Vale didn't have a clue what had happened to his team that they couldn't deal with their suits, though yesterday they had put it on with ease. He was about to help the girl, but Lok went ahead of him. He zipped the Casterwill's suit with one move.

'Done', he said. 'Isn't it a bit loose for you, Sophie? It's protruding on your back. And in front too.'

The girl pierced him with her stare.

'At least I'm able to button it up', she hissed.

'And Zhalia barely manages to do so', Lok remarked. 'Maybe you two could switch up? Your suit would be just perfect for her.'

'No, thank you', the girl growled, pushing him away. 'I'm fine with mine.'

Zhalia barely hold back a smile of amusement. To hide it, she turned to Dante. She threw him an attentive stare and made a stricter face.

'And what's up with you, cowboy?', she asked, putting both hands onto her hips and shifting her weight to one leg. 'Jump out of your pants', she added peremptorily, 'or I'll help you…', her voice changed into a soft, playful purr, spiced up with a smirk.

What man would protest? Even if it meant only equipping for the mission… Dante just hoped that his body wouldn't react in a way which might have suggested how much he liked Zhalia's proposition.

He did. Very much.

The same day, 10:41

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

Damn, what a luck that I got a grip on myself and accepted this mission!

I would've never thought that it'd be so much fun!

Everything goes easy. I'm getting closer and closer to Dante, like a vulture circling above a carrion. I don't have to lie in wait for him anymore. It's obvious he likes me. I've got a very pleasant feeling that completely accidentally I wrapped him around my finger. I constantly catch his gazes of a faithful spaniel. Strange that he's not wagging his tail. If he thinks I don't notice that, he's wrong. And who was right? What are all the guys interested in the most? Sophie may believe in their noble intentions, but I know better. Showing them a piece of naked body is enough to have them in the palm of your hand. Even such spotless heroes like Dante.

My mood gets better also because we managed to pull the ship to the surface with ease – of course with the Titans' help, but let's not be so fussy over details. Now the ship, though a bit shabby due to spending so much time underwater, rolls proudly in front of us, moved by the placid river waves. It's nice to watch. And that's enough for me. I don't really care for it. However, the brave Scouts always have to crack every mystery. I observe them from one of the rocks, drying my hair in the sun and gentle wind blows. I had enough of swimming and working for today. They can rummage through the ship as much as they wish, I won't disturb them. The boys always have an urge to take their toys to pieces.

'We can tell the ship is from the right time period', Dante states, 'because the metal work is bronze, like these rods', he points at the two meters long, dull bars carried onto the bank from the board.

'Why bronze?', Lok wonders, as usually. He always acts as if he had just arrived from Mars.

'That's all they had', Vale explains, examining the rods. 'It took many more centuries to innovate iron work and steel.'

'So, everything was made out of bronze then?', Lambert has to set everything in order. 'It was like a… plastic of ancient times?'

I smile lightly. It was actually a pretty good comparison.

'See?', Sophie shows them Eathon's journal. 'Our wreck looks just like the pictures the Greeks left us of their vessels…'

'However, there are things about this wreck that lead me to believe it's not the Argo itself', Dante dampens her enthusiasm.

'Like what?', Lok delves.

'It's way more cramped than the Argo's description in the ancient legend, isn't it?', Sophie guesses.

'Yes. Also the cabin layout is very simple', Dante adds, comparing the sketches and our finding. 'I'd expect more from a flagship. My guess is it's one of the ships in Argonaut's fleet, but not the Argo itself…'

Great, Dante. You're always such a killjoy.

Oh no, sorry. That DeFoe loony complicates everything way more than you. Damn it, who would have expected him to suddenly jump out among us, surrounded by his men and their Titans?! They land around us from nowhere, crowding us in the ravine and cutting out our way of escape. Excuse me, but wasn't Cherit supposed to be on the lookout?! Thanks, he didn't do his best.

'You're mine, Dante Vale!', DeFoe triumphs. Unluckily, I think that someone else also has an itch for Dante. And that someone has a booty way more attractive for a normal guy than DeFoe's thin buttocks. 'Poisonfang!'

Dante pushes away Lok and Sophie, they quickly crawl away from the charm's reach. He himself jumps away for a safe distance, but he gets dangerously close to the rest of the persecutors. Noticing Breaker and Kreutalk awaiting him, he gets a grip on himself quickly.

'Lend us your might, Metagolem!', he shouts, clasping the amulet in his hand. It glistens faintly, irregularly, like a shooting star. 'Oh no… I used all my power on the ship!', Dante realizes, looking at the useless talisman helplessly.

I just sigh theatrically, standing up agilely.

'I always keep something in reserve for emergencies!', I announce, reminding the rest of my presence. 'Kilthane!'

The dark knight emerges right in front of Dante, shielding him from the enemies. You'll thank me later.

'Take cover in the ship!', Vale orders, but doesn't move from his place himself. Hell, his Captain America syndrome got switched on again. However, Breaker and Redcaps's charge forces him to use his own advice. Bravo. We'd rather not see his guts flowing out from his abdomen. Under Augerfrost shoots, the whole four of us runs onto the ship board.

'How did they get here?!', Sophie freaks out, panting partially from effort, partially from anxiety. 'And why?'

'That's not the point now, right?', I snarl, crossing my arms; though I also wonder what the hell DeFoe is doing here. I thought that since Klaus told the Professor I caught Dante Vale into my cobweb, our boss would decide that disturbing my plan by the other agents is pointless. Well, I guess I was mistaken. Or DeFoe is so crazy that he had guts to opposite our chef…

'Follow my lead', Dante starts, gathering us in a small circle. 'I know it looks pretty bad, but I have a plan.'

'Oh yeah?', I throw ironically. 'You don't say?! Is the failure during summoning Metagolem a part of that plan?', I investigate sweetly. Dante clears his throat in embarrassment. 'We're locked and packed like sardines with the Suits around us', I spread my arms. 'There aren't many options left for us. Even such a Texas Ranger like you won't manage to get us out.'

'Zhalia's right in some way', Lok agrees with me (even if partially), looking outside through the slits in the planks. 'This guy may be a total nutjob, but he got cornered!'

'Zhalia, Lok, Sophie, go to the main entrance on the deck and bar the door', Dante ignores our remarks, coming back to his role.

'What about you?', Sophie worries. The little obsession is still alive.

'I'll be fine', he assures her. 'Just trust me.'

'I have a funny feeling that I've heard it before', I wonder, catching my chin in an overdrawn way. 'Well, let me think… wasn't it before every mission during which DeFoe's men treated us like dartboards?'

'We walked away OK so far, right?', Lok remarks. 'Maybe we should listen to Dante this time as well.'

Vale gives him a thankful stare, but waits for our opinions.

'I'll obey it', Sophie answers sturdily.

'I won't let you two go alone', I shrug. 'If I did, I could write my last will.'

Dante accepts my peculiar agreement.

'You should use small Titans, like Gareon or Icarus, to conserve your strength', he advises us. 'Now take your positions…'

Suddenly he casts a glance somewhere at the right and a strange, cocky smirk appears on his mouth. The one which could win over the Internet if someone decided to make a meme out of it. And then Dante jumps aside, dodging a blade reaching to his neck. A few auburn hair hangs in the air like copper threads of gossamer before Vale cuts off the source of light, barricading the hole in the hull with Touchram.

'DeFoe', he smiles widely, as if he wasn't standing in front of his persecutor.

There are various mental deviances. And Dante apparently gets wired that someone hunts him constantly. Good there's so many volunteers to do so, apart from me. I don't wait for the continuation. Let's allow him to play on his own.

The same day, 11:04

The Argonauts' ship

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

The long-haired operative panted, getting up from the floor, but he couldn't hold back a satisfied smile. A long, silvery sword glistened in his hands; its handle was created of two crescents joined together and making a background for a lone golden cross.

'Your time has come, Dante Vale!', the man announced dramatically, as if he played a villain in a touring theatre. 'Mindrone! Gar-Ghoul!'

Dante took the Titans' arrival with calm. He didn't even twitch, though one blow of the gargoyle's large stone fist would be enough to knock his head off his neck. He jumped back when a stream of acid flew to him, but it was a planned move; he let the toxin separate him from the Gar-Ghoul, then he used the monster's puzzlement and jumped over his back, in the same time avoiding DeFoe's sword again. He noticed that the Organization agent didn't have a clue how to fence. He squeezed the handle with both hands so tight that his knuckles had gone white. Dante knew how to take advantage on it. He exposed himself to the attack; DeFoe took the bait and charged at him. Vale dodged in the last moment; the enemy, putting all the momentum into that slash, lost his balance – the blade cut only the air. The furious DeFoe lifted himself up onto his knees; his glasses titled on his nose, his hair stuck around his head. He repeated the blow, growling; he missed again.

'You won't run away from me this time, Dante Vale!', he drawled.

'But I'm not running away at all, DeFoe!', Vale laughed more to enrage him that out of real amusement. 'It's you who's fighting your shadow instead of me!'

'Gar-Ghoul!', DeFoe became furious, his anger came over his Titan as well. The gargoyle swung his tail, almost tripping Dante up. Vale leaped away, barely passing by Mindrone. He stated that fighting three opponents alone in such a cramped place hadn't been the best idea.

'Solwing!', he called, choosing the trusted Titan which wasn't tiresome to invoke, though.

The gray-feathered falcon dived above his head, catching Gar-Ghoul's fist before it crushed Vale's skull open. The infuriated giant struggled, unable to believe that such a small bird stopped him. Not having another opportunity to attack, he spat a stream of water. Meanwhile DeFoe gushed acid at Dante. The joint hits would have crushed him with ease but the man quickly used Hyperstride and grabbed hold of the beams under the ceiling. Raving over Spiderman in his youth was worth it… Falling down, he straightened his legs and knocked DeFoe down with a kick. The Organization agent fell down onto the planks. Dante thought that now he would get rid of him with no problem, but DeFoe got a grip on himself terribly fast and when Vale was approaching him, he responded to it with a swing of his sword; its tip barely missed the Huntik operative's cheek.

'Fool', DeFoe panted, 'what could a fist against a sword?

Dante had to admit that not much. The essential matter was to take the sword away from DeFoe, then. Well, it's normal to even take scissors away from awkward kids, and his enemy was just like a child lost in the fog for him. For now, he backed, noticing that the support – Gar-Ghoul – was coming.

'You know, after all your failures I figured out that the Organization would've done something about you by now', he mocked, not even blinking vis-à-vis the stone mug. The gargoyle reached his enormous hands out; Dante didn't wait for the end, he jumped and bounced against his back, landing on the other side of the monster.

'I'm guessing they must be really short on people', he finished with a sarcastic smirk.

DeFoe howled with anger, flying into a passion due to his rival's comments.

'Poisonfang!', he roared.

'Touchram!', Dante quickly blocked the spell, putting all his strength into it.

The stench of burning fabric filled the air when the spell brushed against DeFoe's jacket. A thin curtain of waving heat separated them from the fighting Titans. The Organization agent fell down, but there was still a blood thirst in his eyes. Dante calmed his breath. He ended just the first round, and DeFoe was already getting up. Vale was still surrounded by the enemies outnumbering him – DeFoe and Mindrone in front of him, Gar-Ghoul behind. And just Solwing above, observing every maneuver of his foes attentively. Suddenly the bird screeched, hit by the ray from Mindrone's eye. Dante growled, enraged by such a nasty trick. The Titan hadn't even attacked, he had just been hanging in the air! The blow should be directed only to defend yourself! Vale clenched his fist, strengthened it with a spell and forcefully stuffed it into Gar-Ghoul's belly in revenge. Solwing, pulled back together after the hit, supported his Seeker without hesitation, aiming at the Titan's eyes with his claws. Dante took advantage of the monster's confusion and knocked him off under the deck with Touchram. The strongest player had gotten eliminated.

Dante turned around and made a step forward, reaching his hand out in a determined, balanced gesture.

'You won't be able to defend my Titan's attack at this range', he informed warningly. 'It's over, DeFoe.'

The tip of the sword touched the floor when the long-haired agent hunched, as if he had been accepting his failure. However, Dante knew that it wouldn't go so smoothly. Especially because the enemy was hiding his face from him very carefully.

'You'll have to finish me, Dante', he announced with a surprisingly calm voice, which caused Vale to tremble. Strangely, this timbre made terrified. As far as he had known his opponent, he had expected a hysteria, yells, DeFoe ripping his hair out of his head. And now… nothing. Such a frightening contrast… Dante couldn't resist a feeling that DeFoe was planning a very unpleasant trick.

Agent raised his chin a little, looking him up and down with a mocking gaze from behind his yellowish glasses.

'I'll never surrender to you', he drawled, suddenly drawing something from under his belt and lifting his sword a bit; Dante tensed, ready to parry any attack.

'Think again, DeFoe!'

Both wings of the door hit the walls when Sophie rushed into the room and lashed at the Organization's minion.

'Sophie, wait!', Dante yelled through his throat, sore from emotions. What was she doing here?!

She didn't listen. She had her eyes fixed on the hunching enemy. Before Dante managed to stop her, in a blink of an eye, she jumped, turned around and with a kick, she knocked a transparent phial out of DeFoe's hand, then crushed it in the air with Boltflare. And before the shards of the flask landed on the floor, she stood with the blade at her throat.

Blood flowed away from his face when DeFoe slid the tip of the sword across the girl's neck.

'Apparently the tide's turned, Mister Vale', he hissed with an unduly sweet voice. 'Now it is you who must give up!

Dante felt his heartbeat in his eardrums.

If he surrendered, he would endanger the rest of the team.

But…

Did he have another choice? Could he really do anything else seeing DeFoe holding Sophie hostage, threatening her with a sword, dangerously close to her neck? Knowing that one quick move would be enough to cut the girl's artery? And observing the large, frightened, green eyes fixed on him?

If he decided to oppose DeFoe now, that begging stare would haunt him his whole life.

Gritting his teeth not to howl out of frustration and anger (with DeFoe? Sophie? Himself?), he lowered his arms next to his sides and opened them.

'I'm sorry, Dante!', Sophie choked out apologetically.

Her life was in danger, but the first thing she had thought about wasn't getting free, begging for her life, just… an apology?...

DeFoe smiled with triumph, probably finding this situation ridiculous.

'Unlike you, I have no weakness', he remarked haughtily. 'I don't make friends with my colleagues, so… they're expendable…'

Dante pretended to listen to that speech, but in fact, he was more focused on a silhouette which had sneaked into the room behind DeFoe's back. A silhouette with a very fair hair. The biggest klutz in their team. But now… their only hope.

'Lok, don't screw this up', he begged the boy in his mind, then, to make DeFoe busy, he threw trenchantly:

'You don't have friends at all, DeFoe.'

'Boltflare!', Lok took advantage of the moment of confusion perfectly. The Organization operative howled, hit by the spell sent right at his back; his body bent from pain.

'Spidertouch!', Dante quickly took care of the sword, pulling it away from Sophie's throat. The girl fell onto her knees, released from DeFoe's brutal grip; Lok kicked the man, knocking him off right next to Dante's feet. Vale immediately took the blade away from him, then caught his wrist and twisted his arm onto his back. DeFoe wriggled like a beetle, sticking out his bottom in the burnt trousers.

'Yes!', Lok beamed. 'It must be time to eat, because DeFoe's just got served!'

Sophie wasn't about to laugh, though; she trembled, holding her shoulders and trying to stop her knees from shaking.

'Dante, I'm sorry, I didn't mean…!', she started, but cut short when she heard the noises from the deck.

'No time for that!', Vale interrupted her sharply. 'Help Zhalia!

Sophie hunched. Lok called her to order; he pulled her by the elbow and they both ran away. Meanwhile Dante stood above DeFoe.

'Now I'll have a chance to take care of you properly', he announced icily and emotionlessly. 'Say goodbye to your treasures.'

DeFoe peeked at him with fear, then he joined his knees together automatically. Dante barely held back a laughter. Someone people really had such primitive associations…

And he probably spent too much time with Zhalia if such suggestive situations were starting to make him amused.

The same day, 11:16

The Argounats' ship

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

Grier looks at the wreckage of the barricade flatly when he treads on it unceremoniously. He doesn't pay much more attention to me either. Maybe 'cause I also lay on the floor and look just a little bit better, showered by the splinters, covered in dust and dirty? You wouldn't look astonishingly if you held back the pressure of the group of bruisers, and eventually got thrown away few meters by the power of their hit and covered up by planks, nails and pieces of metal.

And it was supposed to be such a nice holiday! What a pity that the folder of that travel agency didn't contain any info about one of the attractions: playing war. A very realistic attraction, given the explosions, bullets and injuries. The guys in front of me also look as if they had just escaped from the box of lead soldiers.

What do you think, do I have any chances against the eight burly brutes and their Titans?

Pheh. Of course I do. Just watch it, they'll be hard up in no time.

I jump on my feet, making a fighting pose.

'Gareon!', I shout, spitting dust from my mouth.

The little fellow's presence on my shoulders lifts my spirits. I throw quick gazes at my both sides, hearing that Lok and Sophie came back here. I've got a support. Shitty, but still.

'I'm not here to bully Dante's puppy and a couple of girls', Grier announces. 'Just make this easy for everyone and surrender now.'

'Girls?', I repeat in disbelief, putting my hands akimbo. 'You must mean Sophie!', I snarl, encouraged by Gareon's sinister hisses next to my ear. 'I'm a woman, a woman who's about to make you eat those words!', I add, leaning to the bruiser aggressively.

And then I punch him right into his face.

I don't know what came over me! It's stupid to start a hand-to-hand fight with someone twice, no, three times bigger than me! But hell, I couldn't let him escape uninjured after such an insult! Tarring me with the same brush as Sophie, especially after my speech which proved that I'm way more mature, pretty, sexy, cool and attractive, simply BETTER than her, is unforgivable!

I hiss; that brute has a hard jaw. But I'm proud of myself regardless, 'cause my action gave the others a signal to fight.

'You take the three on the left, Sophie, I've got the four on the right!', Lok decides bravely. 'I'm no one's puppy! Hyperstride!', the boy knocks down two of Grier's man. I don't know if he'll have enough strength to do anything more, but damn, it was beautiful! A bruised male ego can be such a deadly weapon.

Unluckily.

I learn it the hard way when Grier, growling, tries to return the blow. I dodge agilely, sneak behind him and kick his chest. The hit which was supposed to knock him onto the ground only makes him go one step back. My only advantage over him is my nimbleness; however, I'm not sure if this will be enough against his muscles. That's why Gareon supports me, sending beams at the agent from his burning eyes. What a shame he wasn't in Klaus' library when he raised his hand to me; my superior would have had two big holes in his palm.

I give out a shocked shout when Gareon vanishes in a cloud of greenish mist with a squeal. Grier takes his fist back with a satisfied smile.

'You bastard!', I growl, flying into an immense fury. I could forget that he was about to hit me. But I won't let him get away with beating Gareon, the only male who defends me always and everywhere, no matter what!

I bang my fists against the muscleman's torso; they deflect off his tough, pumped-up chest like ping-pong balls. Grier, not moved more than he would be after being hit by a rolled paper handkerchief, grabs me by my shoulders and pulls me away, like a disobedient, irritating dog who takes liberties with him.

'Zhalia, no!', I hear Sophie's scream, struggling in Grier's strong grasp.

I hate such assholes. They think they can do everything they want with a woman… that they can push her around just because her brains aren't placed in her pants… that they can rule over her, treat her like something worse…

Oh no. That's too much!

I pull my knees up, putting all effort into it, and brace my feet against the man's chest, pushing away from it as powerfully as I can. I grit my teeth, the pain in my arms only doubles due to such maneuvers. But I won't give up. They won't get me. No man will boss me around.

'Enough!'

Grier's grip gets weaker when he hears an unhesitating, ordering voice. I take advantage on his inattention and slip away from his hands like a soap. Just a bit of acrobatics and I land on the floor in a crouch, calming down my breath. My arms and legs are still aching a bit, but not as much to make me resign from raising my guard. However, Grier doesn't pay attention to me anymore, he stares somewhere above me.

'Release him!', he insists, clenching his fists.

'Abandon the ship, boys', the same collected, terrifyingly cold voice orders, 'or he walks the plank.'

Despite what logic advises me, I turn around. And I can't believe that such a threat left Dante's mouth. I can't even believe what I see. Vale stands in front of the entrance; in one hand, he holds a shiny sword (where did he get that from?!), with its tip scratching the floor. The second one mercilessly grasps DeFoe's collar, like on the bloodthirsty dog's. Not a human. Not an enemy, a dangerous freak who pissed us off and spoiled our plans many times. Just a dog, wriggling at his feet. A rag doll, dragged here by its clothes for a garage sale. Pitiful. Pathetic.

Dante, however… There's not a slight of his typical cheerfulness and gentleness in his eyes. They're like two topazes – golden, but cold, without the sparks which usually warm them up. His pose also lacks everyday nonchalance. He stands bolt upright, with his legs spread a bit, braced against the ground as if he was saying: 'That's my territory and I'll defend it'. He's never looked so tall for me, though I know that he dwarves me and I have to look up twenty centimeters to look at his face. He's unmoved like a rock. Aloof. Proud. I don't know if that's due to the sword, but he reminds me of some ancient hero on the battlefield. Let's just make the duster slip unnoticed. It kinda looks fine now. Like a cloak of a mighty warrior…

Even Grier doesn't dare to put up a fight. Why? Normally, he could crush Dante with no problem.

'I took an oath', he dispels my doubts. 'I won't leave my commanding officer.'

'That won't be necessary, Grier', Dante calms him down, calling us to his side with a slight move of the blade. We stand next to him in a row, as if his presence was generating a protective aura. 'Promise you'll back off and I'll give you DeFoe!'

What?! Did he go nuts?! If we get rid of him, we'll have peace once and for all! I'm already fed up with that lunatic, screw it that he's one of the Organization operatives! I've never liked him!

'He's from the Organization, Dante!', I remind Vale. 'You can't trust any of them!'

I know best how true it is.

'I'm with Zhalia!', Lok joins in. 'Do you really think someone like that would keep his word?!'

Dante suggestively peeks at Sophie who wriggles anxiously. Uhooo, someone got stung by the conversation. The girl lowers her stare at her feet, embarrassed by our gazes. Well, it looks like our arguments lost.

'So what do you say?', Dante addresses Grier again.

The bruiser takes a deep breath, then he lets it out, spreading his arms.

'Agreed', he accepts the conditions. 'I won't break my word, Dante Vale', he adds, bending his head.

It wouldn't be enough for me. I know the Organization too well. However, Dante seems fully convinced. He lets DeFoe go, but still holds the sword at the ready until the agent doesn't crawl to his minion's legs.

'Idiot!', he squeals aggressively, though he shakes like a leaf. 'You'll pay with your life for this weakness! Men, attack! Show no mercy!', he orders, waving his trembling fist in the air.

Grier stops the puzzled group, shaking his head.

'What?!', DeFoe yells, seeing that. 'What're you waiting for?! Grier! I said: attack! You are my minion you idiot!', he lashes onto the floor and bangs his fists against it helplessly until the bruiser doesn't lift him up like a feather and flings him over his shoulder. 'Let me go!', now the hands of the humiliated leader hit the soldier's back. 'I will have your head for this betrayal! You serve me, me! Without me you're nothing! I will destroy you all, I swear it on my life!...', DeFoe's howling quietens down in the distance when the Organization operatives back off without a word.

'Sometimes', Dante speaks up when the footsteps get silent, 'honor can be found where you least expect it…'

I peek at him askance. The aura surrounding him faded away already. He has a bit hunched arms, the sword hangs down from his hand like an ordinary rod. The metallic harshness disappeared from his eyes. Now they're… full of sympathy. Embarrassed. Why? Because he humiliated DeFoe in front of his men? Did he prefer to avoid that? Did he really think that he could get rid of the enemy in another way?

Damn it, he's truly hopeless. In the movies, the main heroes at least are happy when they win.

The same day, 12:51

The Argonauts' ship

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

'We were correct', Dante wonders out loud, taking the chests with notes from Lok and Sophie who stand on the deck. 'The ship isn't the Argo. It belonged to Atalanta, one of the bravest of the Argonauts; but her map tells us where the Argo was sunk. Apparently it's sunk in deep waters near the Aegean Islands…', he murmurs, placing the packages one next to another.

I'm not joining the work. No one forces me to do so, either. I guess everyone feels guilty that they left me alone with barricading the door before. I don't even raise my stare from above Atalanta's journal, which I skim through out of boredom. You know, I have a soft spot for women who write (or wrote) diaries. Call it vanity if you wish, but I prefer: the solidarity of pens.

'So to complete our mission, we gonna go track it down, don't we?', Lok adds, freeing himself of the last box.

'Yes', Dante admits, 'but first we're going back to confer with Guggenheim.'

Lok and Sophie accept that plan. The girl, finishing her job, clear off to the bank. The boy stretches out with content, apparently dreaming about rest now. He has his reasons to be happy; Dante rewarded him, giving him the sword with the Titan named Lindorm sealed in it. I wonder why he showed him so much confidence. But… is that the first time he surprised me today?'

And not the last one. I twitch when quite a heavy pouch lands on my lap.

'Zhalia, what would you make of this?', he asks, bending to me with his hand leaning astern.

I undo the latch locking the bag, opening it. And I part my lips from surprise.

'These are… DeFoe's amulets!', I choke out, touching one with my finger. To my surprise, it doesn't respond with a tickle of energy; however, I sense clearly that it's surrounded by a bubble of power, just like the others. 'Separating a Seeker from an amulet isn't easy! You must've used the power Sorrowbond!', I guess, raising my stare to him.

'Don't go making assumptions', he says with a very innocent face, reaching his left hand out. 'I could've just asked for them nicely…'

Just like that, as if he asked the way. It's so hard to believe that this lightly smiling, laid-back guy scared away a group of aggressive bruisers just two hours ago… I shake my head, trying not to marvel at it. Because it just excites an unhealthy admiration in me.

'This won't hold them for long', I remark, coming back to the amulets and touching them tenderly. 'We need to get them to the nearest Huntik Foundation safehouse.'

'That's right', Dante agrees, straightening his back. 'When we're checking with Guggenheim, I want you to take them', he points at me to accentuate his words.

'But… All this power… it seems like a waste!', I spread my arms, unable to believe how one can willingly resign from such a find.

'Unfortunately, they've been bonded to a very evil man for too long to be useful for us', he explains. I guess he's not happy with that as well, 'cause he turns away, probably not wanting to watch how much he's losing.

'Hey!', I stop him, seeing that he's about to walk away. 'Are you sure you want me to do this? I am the least trustworthy member of your team…', I remind him suggestively.

Why is he doing that? Why does he always entrust me with the most difficult tasks? Is he still unconvinced to me and seeks occasions to test me?

He stops. He stays silent for a moment. And then he turns to me.

'Despite what Sophie says', he speaks up, and I feel a light tingle coming through me, 'cause his voice is soft like a tiger's purr, 'I know that at the end of the day… I can trust you.'

I sink into the bench. Literally. I can't say anything, just open and close my mouth, like a fish dragged out the water. I bite my lip when I realize that his eyes aren't cool and emotionless anymore. There's something… attractive in them. Appealing. Making me want to look into them. They smile. Only to me. Until Dante walks away slowly, leaving me with a very stupid face. I stare at his broad shoulders, covered by a loose duster, filled by the wind. And for the first time, I can't find any cutting remark I could throw at his back.

'No one's… ever said that to me before', I whisper to myself, just regaining my voice.

So what? He also didn't have to. Then, it would be easier for me to think that… that I have to kill him. Just use and murder him. And it would be easier just not to give a damn about his order and just steal DeFoe's amulets from the pouch.

But…

He's a private eye. He'll notice. If not him, his colleagues. They'll tell him… And should I make myself suspicious in the eyes of someone like him? Someone even the Professor is afraid of?

That thought strikes me. I haven't wondered until now why the Professor wants to get rid of him so much. I judged him from my point of view – and all I saw was just a ridiculous, sometimes even pitiful stuck-up dude with a blown-up ego and any sign of balls. But didn't he prove that apart from the normal, ordinary, pathetic guy, there's someone else inside him? The Professor wouldn't mind a mere worm he could crush with his shoe. He considered Dante a danger. And now I know why. Because despite not standing from thousands of the other men, he has something in him that frightens even the biggest bruisers, sages and smartasses.

The Professor knows that he doesn't have to intimidate anyone to make them follow him. It's enough for him just to look at them, speak a word with his warm, friendly voice, lean to them on equal terms… and say that he trusts them.

How I deserve that?

I was trying to get rid of him right from the start. I'm mean, biting, haughty, cold and sarcastic towards him. I laugh him off every minute. And even if I think about him as a partner, it's just a plan for a few nights, and not even for my own pleasure, just to deal with my dark business.

So why despite all of this, does he treat me so… kindly?

And… why can't I respond to him in the same way?

Or maybe I can?

I peek inside the bag. The amulets twinkle to me encouragingly. They shout to me to screw the gratefulness. That Dante's kindness is just a façade which hides an equally ruthless self-interest? But I know these are only my doubts. Why can they know about him? What do I know about him, apart from those formal info in his Huntik profile? Apart from some insignificant details, like the body beating the pants off Michaelangelo's David, a sexy smile and a honey-colored gleam of his eyes?

Sophie was so damn right. I don't know Dante at all. But despite that… I wonder if I should pay off for his trust with just a temporary loyalty.

What should I do?, I think desperately, letting the talismans slip between my fingers. 'What?'

The amulets just wink to me playfully.

I sigh.

Alright. Just one.

The same day, 13:01

Stavropolous river

Velos, Greece

Dante easily spotted a silhouette in a dark red blouse on the bank. Trying not to make a noise, what was difficult given the stones getting under his feet, he approached her.

'Hey, Sophie', he reeled to her, standing above the girl. 'You OK?'

She twitched, then got paralyzed for a moment. After that, she came back to pouring the tiny, light gray pebbles from one hand to the other, pretending that she was deep into it.

'Yes', she responded quickly, but unsurely. She sighed after a moment. She let the pebbles slip away through her fingers and just then she answered honestly: 'No.'

'Just as I thought', he nodded. He sat next to her, leaning one of his arms on right knee, and looked at her from the side. 'I guess we have to talk.'

She pulled her knees to her chin, staring at her sneakers.

'I'm sorry', she murmured. 'I don't know what came over me. I should've listened to you, but I preferred to decide on my own. I did something very stupid. I was supposed to protect you, yet… I endangered you even more… I lost my head completely, I couldn't even fix my mistake… You must be furious with me…'

'No, I'm not', he assured her gently. 'It's true I'm not very happy about what happened… but everything ended up well. And I know you had good intentions. Besides, if I was in your place, I'd probably do the same. DeFoe was right in one thing', he announced, observing the water. 'The concern for our friends makes us lose our common sense. But he didn't have a chance to see that it's also our greatest power.'

'It was all because the phial with the poison', Sophie explained herself, spreading her arms helplessly. 'When I saw it, I got scared… I didn't know if you had seen it, if you would manage to avoid the needle in time… I was afraid that… that it would be the end… I… I just had to do something…', she threw out desperately, still not looking into his eyes.

'I understand', he calmed her down. 'But you have to remember that if I order something to you, I have my reasons. Above all – it's me who is your carer and it's my duty to protect you, not the other way round. You can't risk your life even if I'm in danger.'

'Do you expect me to stand and watch how they hurt you?', she raised her large, shocked eyes at him finally. 'Do you really think that I could?...'

'I'm not boasting about it', Dante warned her, 'but the truth is, from all of us, I've got the most experience. I'll get out of trouble faster than you and Lok. I always have it in mind when I plan the missions. I try to give out the task so everyone could manage to fulfill them. But don't think I underestimate you both. If one of you fails even at the small thing, the rest will crush as well.'

'But Zhalia gets important maneuvers', Sophie remarked sadly. 'Why do you trust her? You barely know her.'

Why? Dante knew that this question, once pushed away, would come back now or then. And it would be coming back like a boomerang unless he found a proper answer.

She was attractive for him, that was obvious. Hardly anybody could resist her charms. He saw her almost naked, he could admire every part of her body, except of the two intimate areas hidden by thin pieces of fabric – being more of a coquetry than a real coverage… At the mere thought about it, he felt a shiver striking through him, focusing mostly on his underbelly. But not only her good looks spoke to Zhalia's advantage. That girl had something in her that dragged to her like a magnet. She seemed to hold people at bay by her cool attitude on the outside, however, Dante sensed in her that special spark of fiery temperament, bursting into a flame when she was getting angry or excited. She intrigued him. Enraptured. And at the same time… worried. He caught every moment when she got spirited away, throw an unclear allusion, saddened, got silent. And then all his enthusiastic feelings were fading away, subdued by the hunch that she hadn't shown her hand yet. That she hid some dark secrets, which sometimes made her eyes less shiny and her sarcastic remarks less joking. It couldn't discourage him nor convince to stop that acquaintance, though. He wasn't one of the men who acted hastily. He wanted to crack that riddle, devote as much time for it as necessary.

'We have to trust each other', he responded evasively. 'We're a team.'

'We managed in a foursome before', Sophie reminded him. 'It was alright. What has changed, Dante? Why do we need Zhalia now?'

He couldn't answer her. Maybe there wasn't a good answer for that question. Or maybe he simply couldn't admit that in fact, they would deal just fine without operative Moon in their team. And that actually it was just his egoism that forced everyone to treat her as a part of the group. Because he himself had gotten so used that Zhalia was around, that she commented his every move and always, even in the direst hour, she relieved the tension with her black sense of humor. And that he knew what was she doing; he was sure that she was alright. He could keep an eye on her not to let the situation from before a few days earlier happen again.

But he hadn't known what it meant yet.

He got silent, watching the horizon. Sophie understood that she wouldn't get the answer. And she didn't cheer up at all. He stated that each of them should have some solitude now.

'Come back soon', he asked. 'We'll have to set off before 3 p.m. to make it before the evening.'

He stood up and left, having a strange feeling that instead of oversimplifying the problem, he had only made it more complicated.