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!

13. Chapter 13: Deceptive Desires

Hi guys!

First, an apology. I noticed that most of you didn't take the chapter delay well. I'm sorry, but I was really busy. I have so much of the new grammar structures and to keep my grades on the right level, I have to give it some time to learn them. I'll also have the next kanji exam the next week, right before Christmas, so I'll have to study more this week.

However, I decided I have to make up for the delay this weekend and translate the chapter. I didn't manage to do it the previous week - I prepared just a half of it. I judged that giving you just a part of the chapter is really disturbing. I won't rather do that anymore. Sorry for the complications. Now await full chapters, maybe only ending with cliffhangers, especially after ep. 13 ];

As for the Wikia - it's still just a lose idea. Maybe I will work on it during the Christmas break, but it's not certain. Don't blame it for the chapter delay, though. I know what comes first - of course, the chapters do. What to create a Wikia abou if there's no story?

Comments, comments!

- Joey8: I also like the intimacy you wrote about :) Everyone knows that love isn't just about sex. Of course we can't rip our heroes off physiology (I mean, both Dante and Zhalia are adults who started their love life some time ago, and they take advantage on their attractiveness), but making the story all about reaching the climax with the characters going to bed and then nothing... It'd be worse than some porn. I prefer building Zhalia and Dante's relationship not only on physical attraction, but also on friendship, bantering with each other, teasing and discovering another similarities and their odd but cute habits.

On the other hand, I'm not going to hide that your comment about wikia made me a bit confused. I know that I have many duties now and it may be a bit hard to take care of all of them, but I just want to try it. I'm already making some kind of notes about the characters - my own Huntik data, something like that. It helps me keep the info about them together and not to mess anything in their CVs. But if I don't manage to carry that idea on, I'll just drop it. Life is about trying, right? Don't worry, I know that my studies come first, but I'm not going to let them rip me off the things I really love - and one of them is my story.

- Kimberly: So, you'll love Ryder for sure :D I think he'll appear in chap. 15 or 16, after the mission in Ireland... I have it planned :D So much time left to meet him, I can't wait! But I can't skip the episodes in between, sorry. You know, all the Scarlet Byrne thing is important for the plot - and a great chance to vent Zhalia's jealousy at someone :D
I know that Dante isn't someone who hasn't seen a naked woman, but... he had such a long break from any lovey-dovey stuff, so now he's so helpless ^^ I guess he really misses some intimacy, but doesn't have time to make a move... As you see in this chapter, he thinks only about helping Metz, putting his needs aside. Even if he really misses a woman by his side.

Jess: Don't worry, I don't mind the separate reviews ^^ Any of us doesn't like Sophie much, as I guess, but she's an interesting character to write about. She differs much from Zhalia. I guess that someday, I was like Sophie, while now I tend to be more similar to Zhalia (with my foul mouth, not with the love life, I'm promiscuous at all :] And I don't have such a great guy by my side... sniff). I want to show how she grows up - and out of her childish crush on Dante which causes her to act as if she was someone else. Dante will help her realize that she has to be herself to find everything she needs in her life. And that he's not exactly the one she wants to have beside her, just a vision of an ideal man she created. He knows he isn't. He has his demons, his flaws, he needs a woman who understands it and has similar experiences.

- CindyKayla: Actually, I'm the member of the wikia, the fifth one in the ranking :) I recommend you to join, it is fun (when you have time, of course...) I know, I made Dante melt maybe a bit too much ^^ But I like showing him in a state which differs from the collected pose he puts on usually. He's not only an operative, after all. As he once said (in the chapter, not in the original series), he tends to be just an ordinary guy :)

- StarTime101: Heh, thanks a lot ^^ The reason I didn't write where Zhalia is from is that it wasn't confirmed in the chapters yet. The info will appear on the website once they appear in the chapter. I guess it's better than writing every info I know right now and revealing all the secrets to you ;) Sorry again for the update mess. It's over now.

And for all:

Thanks for the good words, I guess I'll pass the test, though my homeroom teacher slacks off with marking it -.-

Anyway, enjoy the new, WHOLE chapter! And let me know what you think about it ;)

Best wishes,

Sha

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7th July 2009, Tuesday, 12:13

The Aegean Sea

Open waters

'This is cool!', Lok states, looking around with his eyes wide open. 'I love the ocean! Fresh air, sun and speed! Finally feels like a summer vacation!'

Not for me, though. I guess I should be amazed 'cause the weather is holding up. Not a single cloud! The sky looks as if it was painted with a turquoise enamel. It's so blue that almost unnatural. Through the sapphire of the clear water, I see the fish and other creatures swimming across the bottom. The white-winged seagulls play around us, chasing each other or diving to find food. Sometimes the bolder ones circle above our motorboat, exploring the deck with their curious, black eyes. Cherit tried to make acquaintances with them, but it turned out that the birds were more interested in the leftovers from our breakfast. Given that the gargoyle had a fancy for them as well, they didn't find the basis for an agreement. The calculating birds snapped their beaks jealously towards the biscuits and dried apricots which the Titan was nibbling at ostentatiously, not going to share with anyone. The seagulls had to be satisfied with the bread crumbs Sophie was throwing them.

Damn, what an idyll. Like on some postcards or in an advertisement folder. Or on the location of some kitschy soap opera. I'll vomit the rainbow soon. Maybe I'd be less skeptical if I hadn't been covering the never-ending areas of blue for few hours, not having anything interesting to do. I see the 'exotic vacation' more like a time of sunbathing on the beach, smearing your body with sun block, occasionally swimming in the cool sea and exploring some local attractions. And – nothing like that here! The permanent boredom. The outbursts of joy from the other passengers only get me down because I don' find any positives I could enjoy as well.

I turn around to Lok and Cherit, grinning like fools, and Sophie, lying flat on the deck and trying to tan her pale mug. The redheads should avoid such a sharp sun. She'll be tomato red tomorrow. At least there'll be something to laugh off.

'Good afternoon, passengers', I start, mimicking the studied manners of a stewardess, 'and welcome aboard the S.S. Seeker. We'd like to make a special announcement, reminding you that we're on A MISSION', I accentuate trenchantly.

'Pardon me', Sophie sits up, 'but I don't recall Guggenheim telling us that having no fun at all was part of our mission…'

'I don't know what Guggenheim ordered you', I interrupt her disrespectfully, 'because at the same time, I was fulfilling my task, like every excellent agent.'

Alright, maybe not every excellent agent appropriates a part of the important delivery. But let's just pass over it.

'Does every excellent agent', Sophie mocks my voice, 'has to cock up her nose and think of herself high and mighty? Do you always have to spoil the others' moods just because you're sulky?'

And who's saying that. I snarl haughtily, putting my hands on my hips.

'No, I'm just caring that you don't take the piss out of the mission', I cut back. 'You don't see pros like myself and Dante goofing off now, do you?', I throw patronizingly, counting that Mister Vale will support me just that one time.

I could wait till my freaking death. The meaningful silence which falls after my speech makes me feel like an idiot. I turn around, piercing Dante with my angry gaze. He just calmly drives our boat, turning the rudder left and right lazily when he has to. Strange that he's not whistling, it'd fulfill the image of an idyllic ride. But his manners probably don't allow him to do so.

'Can anyone of you steer the motorboat?', he throws out of the blue.

We look at each other hesitantly, surprised by the question. Dante just peeks at us above his shoulder; he seems collected, almost bored.

Am I the only one noticing the playful sparks in his eyes and having a feeling that they don't imply anything good?

The same day, 12:24

The Aegean Sea

Open waters

'What was that you were saying about pros, Zhalia?', Sophie asks sweetly, waving to the boys with a light smile.

'I'm not talking to you', I grumble, leaning over the dashboard with my elbows.

It's all Dante's fault after all.

I try to ignore the boys' and Cherit's shouts, coming from the back of the motorboat. I try not to think that Dante Vale cocked a snook at me, and in front of two brats. And I try not to hear how much fun they have.

Because Mister Vale suddenly had a fancy to go water-skiing.

Just like that, he gave the rudder to the fifteen-years-old snotnose, took his clothes off, drew the equipment out (uhm, I'm still talking about the ski) and there he went. Now he's enjoying himself, playing with the sea waves, observed by Lok and Cherit who hoot cheerfully every time he manages to perform a spectacular trick.

And though I should think about his childish capers with scorn, I constantly feel tempted to peek at him askance. Seeing Dante fooling around among the waves like an exceptionally grotesque dolphin, I can't hold back a small smile. What a big kid he is.

'Now it's your turn, Lok!', he encourages the boy.

Lambert takes over the ski, meanwhile Dante clambers onto the deck, leaving puddles on the planks. He shakes his head like a dog after a bath; I cover my face when a rain of droplets flies at me, however… through my parted fingers, I observe how Vale gratefully takes a towel from Sophie's hands and dries his wet hair energetically. I have a feeling as if I was watching the behind-the-scene of creating the men shower gel advertisement. Until now, I've seen such tasty muscles only there. The water dripping from the strands flows down Dante's torso, bends smoothly on every highs of his muscles, refracts at his strong arms, slides down the six-pack on his belly and eventually disappears on his pants' line…

I'm curious how the way of the streams behind this border looks.

I reproach myself for such stupid thoughts. How is it supposed to look like? Actually, there's nothing especially interesting to watch what I haven't seen before. And it even amuses me how the guys can make a fuss over it, compare it and stuff. I turn my face away proudly, though only I know how much it costs me.

'And you, my ladies?', Dante reels up to us, putting the towel aside. 'Don't you want to try?'

'I'm wet enough, thanks', I throw ironically, pointing at my blouse speckled with damp spots.

He grins to me apologetically, and I feel as if something was melting inside me. Just a moment and my announcement will develop a new, way more spicy meaning… especially if he's not going to put his T-shirt on in two seconds…

What can I do that when he take his lame clothes off, he uncovers quite a piece of meat? David Beckham wouldn't be ashamed of such a body. I said before that I have a weak spot for well-built guys. And Mister Vale has something he can boast about. He looks as if he didn't do anything apart from pumping iron during his spare time. He completely denies the stereotype that Italians are just couch potatoes, stuffing themselves with pizza and pasta… I wonder if his butt is just as bitching…

I bite my lip, trying to win over the tremble of excitement and unhealthy curiosity, which take over me against my will, though I try to fight with my own horniness. I breathe deeply, it doesn't help; I feel even worse, I'm starting to suffocate. I guess that's due to that smell… sweet, sickly… The colorful spots flash before my eyes, the view is blurring… I slump inertly into my chair, hitting my head against the dashboard; I'll probably have a bump, but I don't give a damn, 'cause I'm so freaking faint…

My last thought before everything gets dark is:

Damn, what an enforced celibacy does with a hot-tempered woman.

The same day, 12:34

The Aegean Sea

Open waters

'Zhalia? Zhalia, wake up!'

I murmur unclearly, with discontent, when someone shakes my shoulder. I had such a pleasant dream… a beefcake with a sexy body of a Greek god was stripping to Sexy Back… or maybe it was something else?

'Zhalia!'

I open my eyes reluctantly, blinking intensively. I hiss; my eyelids are stuck, they itch terribly. It's hard for me to focus my stare, but when I finally manage to do so, I notice above me an anxious, intent and awfully unshaven mug.

For a moment, I have a feeling that I'm in my dream again. But no. I'm completely awake. I recognize that mug. And thanks to being fully conscious, I realize that its owner isn't dancing naked in my erotic dream, just leans over me. Damn, I haven't felt so embarrassed for ages. Luckily my eyes aren't screens displaying the content of my thoughts. Otherwise Dante would see himself in them, sweepingly flourishing his pants, just torn off his butt.

I could spin such fantasies just during sleep. Matter-of-factly, I would choose someone more handsome for an object of my dreams. Maybe Bradley Cooper.

'You're awake', he sighs with relief. 'Fortunately.'

I think so. If I wasn't, a thought of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation could cross his mind. He'd scratch me with that bristle.

'What happened?', I straighten up slowly, holding my head, heavy like hell. 'Did I faint?'

'Not only you', he responds, pointing at the rest with a move of his head.

I look around. That's right, Sophie also just raises her head from above the rudder, massaging her temples. I lash at the dashboard in a flash, reminding that, damn it, we're rushing at high speed and no one is steering.

'Calm down', Dante puts his hand onto my shoulder. 'We're still. The engine is almost dead.'

True, I don't hear the familiar buzz of the machinery. Now it sounds more like the last breath of the choking pistons, cranks and other devices which according to me are contained in the engine (but don't try to take a mechanics exam basing on my dubious knowledge).

'We're lucky we didn't end up on the rocks', I murmur.

'Yes', he admits. 'Everyone of us passed out, except of Lok. He realized something was wrong and tried to save us.'

He points at the boy lying on the deck on his side, put into a safe position to let him breathe freely and at the same time preserve him from choking. Cherit watches over him faithfully, parting his wet hair with a protective, caring gesture.

'What's with him?', I ask before I think. Why do I care? I had an itch to finish him off myself so many times…

'He almost drowned, but I pulled him out the water in time. He'll be fine', he calms me down. 'What's more, thanks to him we're alive and well.'

Lok moves with a moan. Vale loses his interest in me (I should get used that he pays more attention to complete losers and wimps), approaches the kid and kneels down to him. Lambert gets up; his eyes are a bit blurred, but conscious.

'Again', he murmurs, spitting the water. 'I'm not a born swimmer for sure.'

'Luckily, you've got friends who won't leave you to die', Dante soothes him, pointing at Cherit and passing over his own input tactfully.

'Thanks, Dante', Lok hoarses, remembering about his help as well. 'How did you wake up?'

He coughs spasmodically.

'Easy there', Dante pats his back to help the boy throw out the sea water faster. 'My watch keeps tracking my pulse', he taps at his wrist; did I mention how boys love to boast about their toys? 'If I pass out, it'll give me a jolt to bring me back.'

'Man, I hope you don't forget to turn it off before going to bed…', Lok tries to joke, but it doesn't come out well, 'cause he still looks as if he was run over by a steamroller.

'When did we all decide it was naptime?', Sophie wonders, approaching us in a bit unsteady pace. 'What happened?'

'There was a vine caught in the engine', Lambert explains; the only one knowledgeable about the situation (exceptionally!). 'The smell made everyone zone out faster than a…', he wonders about a good comparison, 'trigonometry lesson.'

'That's not all it did', I remind them, pointing meaningfully at the place where the squealing engine should be.

'We'll need to dock to make repairs', Dante admits, scratching his chin. 'Let's check the map.'

He approaches the holotome and turns it on, then finds the appropriate application. It goes smoothly, we've been often using the Seekers technology recently not to get lost among the boundless waters.

'It's lucky for us that this Foundation boat has a built-in GPS that links to your hotolome!', Sophie states.

Dante nods.

'Holotome, access the Foundation's global mapping network and find the nearest habitable island', he orders to the device.

'One habitable island within range – display…', the machine responds with a cool female voice, zooming a small, pointed spot which turns out to be an island with a mountain sticking out in the center. It doesn't look impressive… I hope that they have fast foods here at least. It's the most important indication of industrial progress for me. Especially when my stomach starts to rumble.

'Since we only have one option', Dante spreads his arms, 'I guess we're heading there.'

'Alright', I accept, coming to the conclusion that even if the island lacks running water, electricity, toilet paper, the hamburgers are everywhere. EVERYWHERE. 'I just have one suggestion.'

Everyone stares at me enquiringly.

'Get dressed', I advise to Dante. 'Better not to scare the natives away right from the start.'

Lok bursts into laughter, still bubbling with water. He doesn't suspect that my request has its reasons.

If there is another unexpected nap, I'd rather not dream about Mister Vale as one of the Chippendales.

The same day, 12:49

An unknown island

The Aegean Sea

'Seems we've made it', Dante judges, looking at the shore.

Any of us doesn't seem very happy. Maybe we didn't expect a metropolis, but at least some corner comparing to Hawaii, with joyful, colorful natives, offering us drinks, handing us coconuts and so on. Meanwhile… the area looks completely empty. Maybe someone lives here – the exotic forests full of astonishing fauna and flora raise hope that one won't starve to death – but I've got a strange feeling that according to the Foundation, 'habitable' includes even a single hut deep in the jungle, the possession of some toothless old man hunched with arthritis, who won't even hear what we're asking him about 'cause he's been deaf for ages. However, he'll be all eyes seeing two nice chicks in his hermitage for the first time in a while. And I bet he'll drool from joy.

I sigh like a martyr. If we don't have another choice…

Dante throws a rope at the shore; the hook tied to it gets stuck between the stones. He checks if the rope is tight enough, and then with two jumps of a circus acrobat, he crosses it and lands on the shore. Me and Sophie do it more slowly, but as nimbly – we just don't fool around, we're rather not twist our necks. However, Lok proves his awkwardness again and lands in the water in a flash.

'He was water-skiing this morning and now he's taking up body surfing?', I comment patronizingly, seeing how the dripping-wet Lambert clambers from the shoal with a face of a perpetual sucker, who isn't even surprised by another failure.

'Not everyone can apt the grace of you two, ladies', Vale defends the boy, spreading his arms.

'Don't try to deal the point with your charm, Dante', Sophie advises him, exceptionally unmoved by his clever compliment. 'The boy is an absolute klutz!'

'Give the poor boy a break!', Cherit joins the talk; he was the only one sure that he won't even wet his fur. Wings are quite a good thing to have, after all. 'He performed fantastically today!'

'Yeah, give me some slack!', Lok snaps at Sophie, embarrassed and angry with himself at the same time; no one would like to make a fool out of himself in front of his wonder wall. And to be judged by her so harshly. 'This klutz just saved your life ten minutes ago!', he reminds her about his deeds. It's hard to believe in them seeing him in such a poor state…

'Greetings, strangers…', a strange note sneaks into our familiar choir.

We turn around at once, looking from the source of this voice. It appears in the guise of a group of women, approaching us slowly, but without fear. All of them wear long, trailing tunics made of a light, airy fabric, waving smoothly with every move. Most of them also have rich, golden ornaments incrusted with colorful gems – on their wrists, forearms, hanging down their necks, pinned into their intricately styled hair, into their ears… Just as if they ran away from some myths. I saw such characters only on the pictures from Klaus' old mythology, showing the pantheon of goddesses… souped-up, idealized, spruce… Is that possible that those images had their real prototypes?

Ahead of the procession, there's a proof that yes, they did. The woman who leads the group could easily hold court during a party on the Olympus and become another victim of the amorous Zeus, much to Hera's fury. Her every move is like a separate chance to accentuate the unearthly charm oozing from her – to swing her well-rounded hips seductively, fix her tumbling blonde curls, waving in the wind, and to flick an invisible speck of dust from her floating tulles, playing around her slender waist and a low neckline.

'If it is help that you seek, then you have landed your vessel on the right shore…', the stranger speaks up with the same melodious voice, standing in front of us with her hand on her hip. She reaches the other one out to us with a graceful, elegant gesture which makes the golden bracelets on her wrists ring. I'm clueless why such a move reminds me of a jaded hostess.

I guess I'd rather prefer the drooling grandpa. At least Dante's eyes would glisten with a spark of a great interest at his sight…

'Our engine is having trouble', he explains, sending her his smile no. 5 from the category: 'I'm sexy and I know it'. Though it should be called: 'I wear a lame duster, but I can take it off for you' instead. 'We were hoping we could dock here until we fix it.'

'I am Medea', the blonde beauty introduces herself, waving her lashes, unnaturally long - like two fans. 'Please allow us to be your hosts and guides. This island is a paradise that will provide you with everything you'll need…'

Why do I have a feeling that she drawls the syllables terribly and there should be an ellipsis at the end of her every sentence?! Perhaps it's some kind of a journalist's deviation…

Speaking of deviations, I bet that many of them has just crossed Dante's mind, 'cause he goggles at Medea as if he was enchanted. I throw her an attentive stare, trying to make it also appropriately scornful. At such a close range, I notice that she has a flawless, porcelain doll-like complexion, her lashes resembling curtains throw a shade at her cheeks, and her eyes develop a rare, greenish-blue tint in the sun, like sea waters. Contact lenses, for sure. And she has to have a very good face powder. Though, uhm… it's rather hard to find any chemist's here…

But, damn it, no one will tell me that her tits are completely natural! I don't care how she get them if there isn't any plastic surgeon, but I could gamble on my savings that they're made of silicone!

Fake or not, Dante seems to like them, because at their sight (it's not hard to notice them if this bitch wears such a revealing dress), he got dumbstruck.

'We appreciate your hospitality', Sophie takes over the steer, coming before our stunned leader. 'Pardon our rudeness'', she nudges him, 'for not having introduced ourselves…'

'Of course', Dante wakes up with a surprising vigor, massaging his side. 'My name is Dante Vale', he bows a bit. Yeah, and sweep the ground with your fringe as well, moron. 'This young lady is Sophie Casterwill', he makes further introduction. 'This soggy young man behind me is Lok Lambert, and the basket of sunshine is Zhalia Moon', he points me out to them negligently.

Sunshine?! Don't you dare 'sunshining' me! Call your dog 'Sunshine', if any living creature could stand you!

I pant with anger, throwing Medea such a stare that Dante's presentation develops even more ironical undertone. The woman flutters her lashes innocently in reply. I start to think that they're not fake…

'Pardon me, my lady', one of her comrades speaks up, coming ahead; geeez, do all of them have their own stylists who does their hair, paint them and dress them up?! I would have to have Victoria Beckham's credit card to look like that… 'but is your name truly Casterwill?'

I just realize that the whole 'my lady' stuff wasn't addressed to me, just to the red monkey. Daaaamn it, do even those chicks have to add to her vanity?! Who's she, the niece of Queen Elizabeth, that you confirm her in her opinion that she's not a mere bread-eater, just an aristocrat?!

'Yes, that's right, it is', Sophie admits, nicely surprised by such a treatment. 'Do you know my family?'

'Almost as well as my own!', the fair-haired girl assures her with joy in her voice. 'This is my family's responsibility to guard the Casterwills' legacy. My name is Christine', she lowers her head humbly.

Tears of agitation start to appear in Sophie's eyes. Oh no, the hysteria is coming again. She's really crazy about her lineage. But is it really necessary to kneel down to Christine's feet?!

'I lost my parents before they could annunciate me as a noble and reveal the Casterwill secrets!', she confesses querulously, embracing the girl's knees; she strokes her hair soothingly.

So the princess' rights to her heritage aren't as obvious as she wants us to believe… I'll remember it for the next time when she starts to queen over me due to her royal origins.

'I will be more than honored to lead you to your heritage as fast as I can!', Christine beams, pulling Sophie to the depths of the forest.

I don't have anything against it. This trip will be a thousand times more pleasant without the redhead around. Medea also accepts it with a smile.

'Let us help you relax', she offers, taking a basket full of herbs from her comrade's hands. 'We have many medicinal teas, made from the island's wealth of plants and flowers…'

'Medicinal plants?', Dante eyes still burn, though he's no longer staring boldly at Medea's exposed cleavage, just examines the basket's content with equal fascination. Well, well, does someone smoke weed here? Next time I visit him, I'll check what kind of plants he cultivates on his windowsill… I'm curious if they have five-finger leaves. 'What sort of illnesses can you treat with these?'

'Anything you can imagine', Medea responds, as if owning an infallible panacea was a completely normal thing in the world where someone died of cancer every second. 'Some of the more exotic flora can even break enchantments and cure curses…'

Dante raises one of the twigs, ending with a trembling, violet flower; the stalk seems to emit its own light, as if someone sprinkled it with glitter. He examines it closely.

'I have a friend who's in desperate need of a cure', he speaks up with a rapt voice. 'Can you take me to these herbs?'

Medea gives him a gentle, warm smile. I would say: maternal, if she only hadn't taken him by the hand in such a familiar manner.

'But of course! I've been studying them all my life', she says calmly. 'Come with me, let me show you…'

I can't believe it, but this idiot doesn't even look at us, just runs hopping following that bleached cutty! What, does he expect her to show him not only her herbs? Maybe other scrubs, damn it. On her legs best, 'cause I doubt that she found any razor in this pisshole… However, they can remove their unwanted hair with some self-made mushes…

Maybe they have better results in the depilation than me?...

I snarl. If Dante wants to play the catcher in the rye, that's his business. But I advise him not to overdose the magic mushrooms, 'cause I'm not gonna act as his nurse later.

My hope that the last two members of the team shows some sense is very tenuous and vanishes quickly; Lok's already surrendered to the charm of some chick who fastened onto him and chirping, leads him through the beach. Eh, like we see, men are inconstant in their feelings regardless of their age… It's obvious Lok has a thing for redheads. Though, I have to admit, the girl is prettier than Sophie, with her petite face and brown, almond-shaped eyes.

Cherit wants to catch up with his friendly naively (not realizing that Lok rather won't be happy having a chaperone around), but suddenly a small, chubby hand grips his tail and pulls him like a balloon on a string. A girl with sandy-colored hair separated from a group playing on the shore to catch the Titan and now runs back to her peers to show them her loot. The babysitter releases the gargoyle quickly and apologizes to him, acting like a novice kindergarten teacher. I wouldn't ask her to look after my cat, let alone a brat, if I had a slight of maternal instinct. But I don't, so I don't give a shit that the island mothers are stupid enough to leave their offsprings under the care of a woman whose IQ doesn't surpass the intellect of a medium-sized eggplant. Of two evils, Cherit is a better choice… He's on cloud nine that she proposed him to teach the girls. He can be someone's authority at last.

'The entire team is off chasing their fantasies', I state to myself; who else I could be talking to now?

'Fantasies aren't worth chasing', a voice responds; it doesn't belong to any of my alter egos, though, 'but secrets are!'

I turn around ostentatiously, facing some old woman. And it wouldn't be anything strange if not the fact that she doesn't resemble her comrades at all. I'm not talking about her age – it's obvious she won't keep the shape and complexion of a twenty-years-old – but about the styling. She differs much from a woman in her dotage who still tries to look elegant and neat nevertheless. A grayish, worn-out tunic hangs on her loosely like a negligently girded rag, her hair, partially tamed by a bun, ducks out of it and stick out like quills. Her nails, long and sharp like cat's claws, and prominent nose connote stereotypically to me – with a twisted witch who tries to interest me, speaking in riddles. If she thinks that I'll allow her to read my palm for a sky-high price, she's wrong.

'Where could any secrets worth finding be hidden on this island?', I throw scornfully, then answer it myself: 'Nowhere.'

'Nowhere is exactly where secrets hide!', the old woman squeals, then reels to me with a conspiratorial voice: 'I could show you an ancient weapon with a power to control minds that lies nearby…'

'Not interested', I interrupt her wryly, leaning over to her aggressively which makes her shut up immediately. 'I have a mission and it's time I got back to it.'

I leave the stunned old hag alone and come back to the boat. I have enough of freaks for some time. A weapon controlling minds, ridiculous. The island girls don't need any weapon to deal with Dante, as I see. It's enough just to flutter their lashes, show him some body and pull him to the bushes…

What a moron.

The same day, 23:41

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

I lie flat on the deck, gazing at the navy blue, cloudless sky, covered with stars as thickly as Lady Gaga's outfits with sequins. I placed my arms under my head and bent one knee, that's the most comfortable position. It's still warm around – not hot, but nice enough to relish in the night without putting on a sweater and wrapping in a blanket. A gentle touch of breeze smoothes my face and plays with my hair, twining them around my neck and fingers. It's pleasant here, calm, like in a fairytale…

In that case, why do I feel so bad? Do I really miss the row of the troublesome four with whom I spend most of my time lately? Ridiculous! I don't mind solitude. There are so many things I can think about then, not getting pissed off every time when someone interrupts my flow of great visions with screaming the place down spontaneously.

What of it if now I'm just thinking about what happened with the rest?

Screw the brats; I don't care if Lok maybe stops being a virgin tonight and Sophie discovers her lesbian tendencies. But imagining Dante with that busty blonde is rather disturbing.

She's just a shallow slick chick who acts like an additional island attraction; as if everyone had to explore her… And how quick-tempered Dante is, damn it. He sees a woman and is ready in no time. Shame he doesn't notice what a looker he has right beside him! I'll let him know what I think about the downslide of his taste when he comes back. Yeah, right – when he comes back… What is taking him so long?! Collecting herbs?! Is it the way they call it right now?!

I turn to my side, irritated, but on the other hand… offended. I want to yell at somebody, just like that, to throw my anger away. But I don't have anyone I could yawp at. I could summon Gareon, but… I wouldn't expect him to understand my inner state. He would just be here, letting me hug, scratch and talk to him, but not responding with anything which could replace me the other man's presence.

I bundle, pressing my hands to my cheek.

F*ck them. I'll manage alone. It's worked fine for so long.

8th July 2009, Wednesday, 10:12

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

When I wake up, the sun is high on the sky. My hair is warm; I hope I won't get a sunstroke. Or that I didn't get it already. I lift myself up ponderously, unlike me. Everything hurts after sleeping in such conditions. My lids are dropping. I wriggled in place many times wondering what with the others before I fell asleep helplessly, exhausted by the uncertainty. I look around, searching for any signs of my teammates' presence.

Nothing. No one else's come back since yesterday. This isn't right. Can't I leave them alone for five minutes not to let them fall into some trouble?!

Looking for them at night was pointless, but now I take up the search without hesitation. Maybe leaving the motorboat without any supervision isn't the wisest maneuver, but it can't compete with the rest of the team's behavior in the ranking of the stupidest moves.

Where should I start the search? It would be easiest to find Sophie; if the Casterwills' library is really that important, every island girl should be able to show me the way. But… I'm the most interested where that baboon is. Besides, I should find the pack leader first, right?

It's not so easy 'cause I don't even know where to go. Though I checked Dante's location on the holotome, I'm still clueless where to find him. The paths in the forests weave, cross each other, are blind, lead to another place than I expected… When I finally manage to win the fight against the puzzlement and the thorny, twining flora and I find myself on a stony path leading up, I'm like a hand grenade without the safety pin. I'm just seconds away from exploding. My mood isn't lightened by the lovely scene spreading before me: Dante handing Medea the armful of flowers on the glade full of aromatic plant life. I should be glad I didn't find them in more embarrassing situation (by the way, he's a complete corny if he didn't take the chance), but his enraptured smile is more meaningful than showing a naked ass. I want to wipe it away. With my fist.

'Dante!', I interrupt the idyll with a sharp shout, approaching them as if I took some gear.

'Oh, Zhalia!', he notices me and pulls away from Medea.

'What are you doing?!', I don't give him a chance to speak, just lay it on the line. 'Last time I checked, we had a mission, remember?!'

'I decided we're staying here until I find all the herbs I need', he responds lightly, as if we were discussing a change in the annual picnic's program.

'There are only a few more that we require…', Medea adds with her irritating diva-like voice, smiling like Gioconda. I squint my eyes, trying to kill her with my stare, but she just turns away from me, as if she judged that the matter had been settled. Vale, surprisingly, follows her before I think about a speech full of arguments pro leaving.

'But Dante…!', I throw at his receding back; I'm not sure if my trenchant timbre is enough to convince him to get a grip on himself.

'Not now, Zhalia', he throws above his shoulder, not even giving me a stare.

Not now?! What the hell do you mean by: not now?! Then why the f*ck did you dash into my hotel, force your way to my room, make a suitable speech and pull me to Greece?! Just not to give a sh*t about me now!? Only because you saw better tits?! You damned…!

I want to fire Poisonfang at his back and make the blow come through him so badly… Screw the info he'll take to his grave. He deserves that…

But I won't descent to his level, right? I turn away proudly, leaving the apprentice herbalist with his new mentor. I recede with vigor, making my way through the forest like an enraged female rhino. I don't give a damn that the eco-freaks will get me for destroying the environment. If they dare to criticize me, I swear they'll regret it. I'll go bowling using their heads.

This thought is so soothing… Especially when I replace the greenies with my teammates and charming islanders. Medea's nut would be such a great bowling ball… if I only shaved her curly mop. With pleasure!

Besides, will I really disgrace myself paying attention to someone who paints her lips with a rotten mirabelle plum-like color?! That'll be the day!

'If Dante is so determined to stay', I murmur under my breath, trying to regain inner peace, so necessary during coming down the rock ledges, 'there's not much I can do… It's not my problem', I state powerfully, landing smoothly on a carpet of leaves.

What could I do then? I'm itching to rummage through Dante's backpack and cut a hole in every pair of his pants. On the ass. Then throw Sophie's make-up case into the water and take the batteries away from Lok's GameBoy… How could I punish Cherit? I don't know yet. I guess that the punch he gets from a hermit crab when I reach the shore is enough. The girls surrounding him burst into laughter.

'Oh, I guess the best defense is a good offence after all', Cherit tries to turn his failure into a joke.

'Teacher!', one of the kids waves her hand to catch his attention.

'Ay, Lass?', the gargoyle reels to the girl with a beaming mug; everyone likes to be appreciated and admired.

'How did the island get its name?', the little one asks.

'I don't know why they chose to call it Medea Island', Cherit responds truthfully, 'but I do know Medea was a powerful figure in Greek mythology!'

'She was?', the blonde wonders, blinking her angel-like blue eyes with curiosity.

'Indeed!', Cherit admits, floating above his students' heads. 'She was known as a great witch, and a women not to be trifling with! In the legends of Jason and the Argonauts, she had the power to control men's minds...'

Kheh, for sure. She passed it down to her namesake. But every mere Amsterdam slut is able to enchant a man with her boobs…

'You look like you're enjoying yourself', I remark, approaching Cherit in a fit of impulse. I won't say that I'm so overwhelmed by loneliness to stand even the small Titan's annoying squeal. It's just… I had a funny feeling when I eavesdropped his lecture.

'That I am, Zhalia!', the gargoyle admits joyfully, fluttering his wings with doubled power. 'Class, would you excuse me for just a moment or two?', he asks the kids, who accept enthusiastically, just waiting for an opportunity to mess around.

We recede from the children (I've always been allergic to them), choosing more solitary beach part, from where Cherit can keep an eye on his charges, though. He sits on the rock I'm leaning on.

'Those kids are amazing!', he ravishes over them. 'Their minds are so open, so receptive…'

'They're not even surprised at your sight', I interrupt wryly, 'and that's a rarity.'

'What do you mean?', the Titan asks, furrowing his brows. His enthusiasm dampens a bit.

'A Titan who can talk in reason like a person… Ridiculous', I throw dryly. 'You know, when I first saw you, I thought that you were pretty useless…', I say bluntly, 'but then… I got to thinking.'

'Yes?', Cherit is a bit embarrassed, he isn't sure what he should think about my straightforward opinion. However, he listens to me carefully – so carefully that he doesn't notice the crab crawling to him; it's the same one who pinched him before.

'You've been around since the time before when Titans first came to Earth', I continue, 'so you must know all about the ancient magic and the truth behind the legends…'

'That was a long time ago', Cherit brushes it off humbly, squinting his yellow eyes.

'So what happened to you between now and then?', I insist, not giving him a chance to breathe. 'What makes you so special?'

Cherit thinks, leans his mug on his paw, and then the paw on the crab's shell, accidentally.

'I'm afraid I don't remember…', he sighs.

I respond with a sigh full of disappointment. Well, looks like it's the end of the interview.

'I guess you think I'm pretty suspicious asking all this', I throw, about to leave.

'Not at all!', Cherit responds, cheering up a bit. 'Dante asked me all the same things when I first met him!'

Oh, great. Looks like we do agree in some things. Even if it includes only gathering info during the missions. Maybe I should be happy that I think similarly to my prey, but it doesn't give me anything if we differ so much in more important matters. For example, I don't make a beeline to a mere nymphet who flashes a part of well-toned thigh. (Probably it wouldn't enrage me so much if it was MY thigh.)

'Whatever…', I fob him, I don't want to carry that topic on. 'I don't suppose you have any desire to leave this island, do you?', I guess.

'Not really', Cherit admits, a bit remorseful 'cause he feels my antipathy, and a bit saddened by the vision I spread before him. 'I hate the thought of leaving these girls behind…'

'I figured you'd say that…', I roll my eyes and leave him on the beach without saying my goodbyes.

Looks like I won't find an ally in a fight of returning to the mission.

The same day, 17:13

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

The digits on the on-board clock change for the thousandth time this afternoon, counting precisely the sixth hour of my surfing. Nope, not among the cool waves, though I'm on vacation. I rub my lids which itch terribly after staring at the holotome screen for so long, browsing the Foundation data and the Internet. Many info about Jason, his journey, meeting Medea and their blossoming romance with a tragic twirl in my head. If Dante had studied the myths more carefully, he would have known that Jason paid a high price for trusting the bewitching sorceress: losing his sons, killed of passion, and his beloved, burned alive due to the wedding gift, and, eventually, meeting his own death under the Argo's broken flagstaff. There were also many accidental corpses along the way, for example the witch's younger brother, dismembered to carry out the runaway plan, and king Pelias, boiled in a poisoned potion by his own daughters. Strange that the guy skipped such bloody parts. Maybe he just turned a few pages of mythology when he felt a stirring of romance.

Either way, I read the myth about the Argonauts from cover to cover and now I have a complete image of the witch who entrapped Jason. In the text, she was described as supernaturally beautiful – black-haired, with burning dark eyes and milky white complexion. It's obvious under which scheme they created the villains back then – they had to look disturbing right from the start. It wouldn't pass in the modern times… that's why the bad guys are disguised as attractive, appealing blondes with gentle, endearing smiles and sea-colored eyes.

It's certain she was clever and charming if she was able to lead everybody up the garden path… Definitely, everyone leched over the beauty who could easily coax them. However, there were also some useful spells concerned… some toxic plants, infusions, brews… and the mind-controlling weapon… Everything starts to form a coherent whole.

'Holotome', I throw to the device, 'I gave you the locations of Medea and the other island girls. Why can't I see them?', I demand the answer.

'Cannot extrapolate the targets; experiencing magical interference.'

So I was right.

'Dante and the others are all just outside the central forest…', I wonder out loud to myself, because there's no other rational interlocutor around. Besides, I wouldn't find a more intelligent one. 'Whatever's got into their heads, and the holotome, has to be there. It's not really my concern… but still…'

I reach for another dried apricot which I eat as a frugal dinner. I bite the fruit open pugnaciously, though I'd rather wolf down a hamburger. I hate healthy food. However, Sophie fancies it. She'll be pissed off when she comes back and notices that I snarfed all of her dietetic snacks. Very good, serves her right.

I should leave them all here and get the hell out of here at once. But, it shames me to admit, I don't have a clue how could I get rid of the buzzing and coughing engine… I guess I'd damage it even more. I think that the only person competent enough to undertake the repair is Dante. Damn, it's pissing me off like hell.

I throw another apricot into my mouth, just out of revenge. It tastes awfully.

I'll better leave them for Sophie and Cherit, who absorbs everything. I stand up as ostentatiously as it's possible, though no one is observing me. I want to look dignified in my own opinion.

I can't just admit that I miss that bunch of idiots. I'm doing it only for the mission's sake. And 'cause otherwise I won't get out of here. Yeah, just because of that…

The same day, 17:20

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

A droplet fell onto a glistening, bowing straw of grayish-green grass, trembling on the slender leaves before it sunk between the other plants. Dante raised his head apathetically, checking if it hadn't been going to rain. It wouldn't change anything in his plans, though. He realized that it was the sweat coming down his forehead; he brushed it off carelessly with his sleeve. The heat was pestering, but he hadn't minded it until now, preoccupied with his task.

He pulled the little plant; the root smoothly slid away from the soil. His fingers were chafed due to constantly collecting the plants, even the fragile leaves were hurting his reddish skin. He gritted his teeth and ignored the pain. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered as much as the thought that the cure for Metz could be so close…

If not him, he'd have resigned from penetrating the bushes in search for the hidden, rare flora a long time ago. He couldn't do that, though, having a vision of his friend's swollen, strained face in mind; his withered, watery eyes, brownish liver spots covering his hands… The medicines hard-fought in Austria hadn't helped for long, they had just eased the pain. Dante couldn't even relieve himself, finding the black-market deliverer and beat his yap into a pulp because he had disappeared without a trace. On the other side, why would he take his anger out on the man who hadn't promised him anything? Metz had already taken so many medicines and any of them hadn't helped him… Maybe curing his affliction wasn't something a man could do, because it wasn't a man or his creation who brought the illness down upon him?

Dante brushed this thought off himself. There had to be an antidote for the mortal curse somewhere and he was going to find it, even if it had meant going to the outer space. However, he hoped he wouldn't have to look that far away, that he had already achieved the goal of his long search finally, docking on this island. Medea had assured him that they knew the secret of breaking the curses here. She was so calm, she didn't hurry with anything, she was putting the herbs into her basket so methodically, as if she hadn't been affected by the heat, effort, lack of rest. Additionally, she looked as if she had just raised from before the dressing table – fresh, flawless, charming. Dante felt like a complete scruff comparing to her. He felt dampness under his armpits, there were streams coming down his back. He should have take off the sweater… but there was no time for that.

Medea peeked at him and looked at his basket lingeringly.

'Just about done', she announced. 'We only require one more, the flymushroom, which only grows high on trees…'

Dante blinked, trying to focus his stare; Medea's lips started to wave before his eyes. He had just noticed how the hot air was billowing between them…

'Let's… go find that…', he murmured, trying to make a step forward and fighting his own sluggishness.

He tripped over and didn't have enough strength to regain balance; when it became dark before his eyes, he just fell down, landing with his back on the mossy ground.

'Finally', he heard before he lost consciousness.

The same day, 17:21

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

The old woman almost drops dead due to heart attack when I jump from the tree right in front of her.

'I've changed my mind', I throw breathing out and leaning over her cryingly, with my hand on her shoulder. 'Show me this weapon of yours.'

The grandma's jaw drops (which exposes every cavity in her mouth and poor last of her blackish teeth; yuuuk…), she inhales for some time through her wrinkled lips. I start to think that some attack really struck her. I'm ready to get an IV therapy and carry her on my back just to make her show me the way. Then come what may to her.

'So?!', I insist. 'Are you going to lead me or not?!'

The old woman slowly stands up, trembling.

'Follow me', she throws shakily.

And that's what it's all about.

We slowly dip into the forest, so thick and compressed that despite the sun hanging high on the sky, it's almost dark under the dome of leaves and climbers. The faint sunbeams keep piercing through the canopy of lianas here and there, quickly suppressed by the wealth of flora… which doesn't really look beautiful in this scenery. Rather oppressive, overwhelming. Rapacious. I've just noticed that I haven't seen a single living creature in this wilderness, well, I haven't heard even the shiest bird trill. The silence becomes disturbing. I welcome an importunate buzz almost with relief; it's a fly flying around the old hag (I guess her clothes doesn't only LOOK as if they hadn't been washed for a long time). She scares the insect away with a hand slap, which throws it away on the leaves of some bulging plant. Due to the calyx and the stalk's built, I recognize the sundew, setting her deadly trap. It doesn't look, as most people think, as a quick muzzle snap – the fly just gets struck in a sticky secretion covering the leaves. Any clever predator doesn't act rashly when there's a chance to miss directing the ultimate blow. It's better to prowl, set your snares, lure your prey and make them fall into your trap on their own. That's my tactics.

But when I imagine how the sundew's calyx closes slowly and the plant's saps turn the insect into a smear, I feel sick. The apricots whipped from Sophie start to dance in my stomach. Ill-gotten gains never prosper… I turn my stare aside quickly not to vomit, wondering: does it look so disgusting only in the fauna and flora's world?

I shake my head and catch up with the old hag, what's not so hard 'cause she shambles a lot, quaking like a jelly. She parts the branches, looking for the way. Suddenly she shows more vigor, making her way among the twigs and hurrying me up with an impatient gesture. We come out onto an empty, non-wooded space surrounding a mountain – the same one I saw on the holotome first, enwreathing the island like a crown. And on the top of it, like a jewel, a crystal glistens with an emerald glow, sparkling in the sunbeams.

'This is the psychic weapon!', the old hag points at it.

'You're not kidding', I state with surprise, 'cause I expected to stray in vain, chasing the chimeras of the loony witch. 'That's the real thing, alright… Its power is incredible…', I make a step forward, wanting to have a closer look at the crystal.

'Before one can use the weapon, they must first form a connection with it', the old hag warns, stopping me.

'Alright, but… how?', I ask, not content that I know so little about the obelisk and that I have to fall back on the old one's help.

'Slowly hold out your hand before it', she instructs me precisely, showing what I should do, 'and relax…'

I fulfill the order with hesitation. The celadon monument gleams between my raised hands. From such a distance, it looks not much larger than my index finger… however, I sense its immense power, spreading all around and engulfing the whole island, like circles on water… The wave of energy washes my whole body, electrifying my hair and raising them around my head… My skin starts to itch as if there were electric impulses biting it… it should be unpleasant but it's not… actually… I don't want it to end…

'Now… let its power enter your mind…', the old hag's voice comes to me as if from a great distance, from the bottom of a well, echoing under my skull. 'Surrender yourself to it, only then will the connection be complete!'

Surrender? To erase the only person courageous enough to say out loud that something is wrong here? Not to let anyone break the spell which took over my comrades, messing in their minds?! To become another doll pulled by its strings by some mean power which finds pleasure in playing with human desires?!

'You must take me for an absolute fool!', I snigger, overcoming the numbness of my tongue. 'If I did that, I'd be a vegetable… forever!'

Instead of holding my hands out thoughtlessly, I raise my guard.

'Armorbrand!', I shout clearly, pushing the unknown power's tentacles away from me and tearing off its fetters.

'What are you doing?!', the shocked hag screams. 'Do you not want the power?!'

'Not to bright, are you?', I remark scornfully. 'I wanted to find the source of all these illusions… and I figured there had to be a connection to the mind-controlling weapon you kept talking about!'

'So you…!', she points at me with her shaking finger, goggling her eyes out in fear.

'Now that I found the source…', I raise my hand, gritting my teeth not to hesitate. 'Augerfrost!'

I don't close my eyes when the ray of icy-blue light hits the old woman's chest, though at the thought of her paralyzed, numb body falling onto the ground inertly, I barely manage not to throw out. Fighting a helpless enemy is so humiliating. However, I try to explain to myself that now there's just a delusion. In fact, there's no old woman. There's just an illusion created by the obelisk; an illusion which vanishes in an explosion of green light when my charm hits it.

I don't have time to ravish over my own perspicacity 'cause suddenly I fall onto my butt, tripped up by an unexpected earthquake. The mountain rocks to its foundations, as if there was a monster trying to come out from underneath; a tyrant who had had the island under his reign for too long.

'Great', I throw ironically. 'Now it's mad.'

Go on, bitch. Let's settle the matter like women. Which means: no holding back.

The same day, 17:32

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

Dante twitched, feeling a terrible itch in his arm. He clenched his fingers, trying to overcome something which, as he thought, was just a neuralgia after picking up the herbs with his numb hands endlessly. It hadn't helped; the tingle was still crossing his skin, like a thousand of marching venomous spiders, effectively scaring away the weakness which had wiped the last five minutes off his memory. Oh yeah, the watch…

He opened his eyes and twitched again, noticing a hem of blue tunic and a hand decorated with golden bracelets above him. He recognized Medea and guessed that she was the reason his back was so beat-up – the herbalist was pulling him across the stony shore to the sea, which was surprising… Such a slender woman dealing with a guy two times bigger than her?! Suspicious…

He pushed her away and jumped to his feet.

'What's going on?!', he shouted distrustfully, looking her up and down.

The woman blinked few times, but then she smiled with an immeasurable gentleness.

'I was getting worried about you', she started with concern. 'Stopping to rest now of all times… We have to find the medicine for your friend, remember?', she reminded him suggestively.

Some other time stings of remorse that he had wasted so much time instead of helping Metz would overcome Dante. But now he knew that he had passed up more time wandering around this island and chasing illusions. The infallible panacea… Yeah, sure!

'There is no medicine here, is there?!', he threw contemptuously, then aimed at Medea's basket and shouted: 'Touchram!'

The herbs spilled in the wind, sprinkling them with shredded leaves, petals and stalks. Medea observed the rain of plants with her lips parted. Then she pursed them, a dull, almost animal-like growl came from behind them. They went blue; this color spread all over her face and shoulders, giving it a deathly shade. An unearthly, turquoise light blazed up in Medea's irises, engulfing her sclera and turning her eyes into two empty gems, like the emeralds in her jewelry. Her gowns waved, twirled, then parted, however, they didn't show two human legs – now the fabric barely covered a squat casing resembling a turtle shell with four fin-like legs. Her laugh sounded like an unnatural squeal.

'Here to dance?', she proposed him ironically, balancing few feet above the ground.

'No gentleman would refuse to dance with a lady!', Dante responded, preparing for Medea's attack.

He wasn't mistaken; the Titan charged at him with her whole rotund body. Dante bounced off the ground, jumped into the air, curled up to hit the mark more easily, then he straightened up and landed exactly on her shell.

'Touchram!', he shouted, aiming at her hardened flesh.

The spell left just a shallow scratch on the surface. I'm too weak!, Dante realized before he landed on the sand, thrown away from Medea's back like from a restive mare. He jumped to a safer distance, then he fumbled in his pocket, finding the needed amulet. Luckily the sly sorceress wasn't cunning enough to take them away from him!

'Solwing!', he yelled clearly. 'Cover me!'

The falcon came down on the Titan like a bolt from the blue when she was just an inch from getting Dante. Solwing stuck to her with his claws, pulling her away from the Seeker. Dante took advantage on the Titans' struggle.

'Dragonfist!', he hardened his fists and aimed at Medea's shell without hesitation.

The Titan howled when her body started to fall into pieces. Luckily Dante didn't see the whole decomposition process, because Medea vanished in a cloud of glistening energy, leaving just the scraps of the wicker basket and the herbs treaded into the sand.

Dante crouched, lifting a crumpled stalk with a purple flower. Suddenly he hissed, hit at the back of his head with something heavy – not as strongly as to make him fall down, but powerfully enough to let him see stars.

'What was that for?', he asked Solwing, who hung before him, peeking at him reproachfully.

The Titan just fluttered his wings and pointed at the mango lying on the ground with a move of his beak. Dante got embarrassed.

'Oh, right', he murmured. 'Thanks. That's exactly what I needed.'

This, not some useless herbs, the falcon's wise eyes were saying. Vale had to admit he was right. He lifted the fruit and cleaned it with his duster, then sunk his teeth into it. He almost sighed with delight when its sweet juice flowed down his throat. Few hours more and his stomach would stick to his spine.

However, he knew it wasn't the right time to stand like this and stuff himself with local snacks. The rest of the team was also under the spell… Sophie should have been in the ruins of the library, deep in the books. Lok… he hadn't been there to confirm it, but the islanders had told each other that he had been racking his brain over some complex puzzle. Some other woman had praised Cherit, helping her out with the kids. Everyone fell for the trap. Everyone… except of Zhalia.

A piece of mango got stuck in his throat. He swallowed it with difficulty, realizing that if he hadn't brassed the woman off few hours ago, maybe he would have avoided exhausting his organism completely and wandering around the island which didn't have anything to offer them. And… since she was the only person who hold her ground against the spell… she was also the most endangered one, the first to eliminate by the island's wicked magic to let it continue its reign.

'Solwing', he threw quickly to the Titan. 'You have to lead me to Zhalia. As soon as possible.'

The same day, 17:43

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

Damn it, now I'm sure that the crystal is the source of the illusions! Otherwise it wouldn't defend itself so rabidly when I shot spells at it! Perhaps the weapon read my mind somehow and took the challenge I threw down seriously. We fight like two wild animals, coming on strong with each other, by fair means or foul. What a pity I'm on the hiding for nothing, fighting a losing battle… First – due to a bad location. The ones above always have the advantage. The forest should act as embankments, but what a burden is it for a non-physical energy which penetrates everything like a knife cutting butter? Second – I get weaker and weaker each moment, and the crystal seems to drain power from everything around, sucking it from the roots of the plants twining around its foundation… even from me.

Why did I undertake to rescue those idiots?! Just to die here badly and end up without a funeral?! After all, do they care that I'm trying to save their butts now?! They haven't even noticed they're in danger for such a long time! But now it's a bit too late to be kicking myself. If I had said A, I would have to say B. I've got to destroy this rock or Dante and the others will be…!

Will be what?! Still under the spell which lets them believe that they're just a step apart from fulfilling their dreams? Like Sisyphus, rolling a huge rock up the mountain naively, hoping that his laborious efforts will end soon? They deserve that. They should finally see that hard work isn't everything to achieve your goals. That sometimes it's not enough to make your dreams come true. That fate isn't distributing the clemencies fairly.

But actually… I'd rather win over that stupid rock and have a chance to say right to their faces: 'I told you so!'

Overcoming the defiance of the strange energy, I fire a blast at the crystal, putting all my anger into it.

'Raypulse!'

The sphere of light breaks up against the crystal's surface like a fallen star.

'No, stop, please!'

What? My shield comes down when I stare at the obelisk in surprise. I think that I… no… it's stupid… no one else is here… but I've heard it…

'No, stop, please!'

Again… that lisping, inarticulate voice of a girl…

I shake my head, trying to toss away that strange feeling that someone is calling me… that the crystal's surface is waving, parting before me like water and sucking me inside, and I fall into the hole head on, holding my breath as if I was really sinking into the depths…

The celadon gleam fills my eyes before the green mist disappears, showing an image clear like a just-printed photo…

A dark dead-end full of toppled dumpsters and their content piling up under smeared walls, peed here and there by stray cats… Laughter of a bunch of musclemen, emptying another dustbin and throwing mucky wrappers at a shape curling up on the ground… It's a girl, I recognize it; though her silhouette is so bony that it's pointless to search for any signs of femininity in it, her long hair give her away – ruffled, greasy and tied high on her head in a messy ponytail. She raises her hand; a hopeless, pitiful defensive gesture, ineffective against the blows landing on her, however, the kid keeps that position until one of the persecutors doesn't lift up one of the dustbins, intending to direct the final strike… The metal dumpster hits the little one's head; the girl, befuddled, falls onto the pavement head on, swallowing tears. She helplessly presses the sleeves of her grayish, overstretched sweater, which must've been green before, to her dingy face, but she just smears the dirt more. She bundles in her quilted waistcoat, pressing her hand to the hole torn accidentally in her worn-out jeans…

'Someone help me! Why won't anyone help me?!'

I shake myself off; the group of hooligans disappeared somewhere, and the girl isn't crawling in the mud now, just knocks violently to someone's door. Her fists hit the wood with a dull tap, time after time, and once more, the splinters mutilate her thumbs, but she doesn't stop, desperate, feverish.

'I don't have anything to eat…!', she yells in a breaking voice before she loses steam; staggering, she leans on the door with her whole body, shaking and crying silently. Now I know why she's so horribly scraggy that I wonder why her legs aren't breaking like matches. The jeans slide from her waist – even more battered, but decorated with a neatly sewn patch in a shape of a cat's head… a patch which I was so proud of 'cause it saved my only trousers…

That girl was me.

That's right, I was left to die and no one even blinked. Why should I help anyone?! They also left me, didn't care if I dropped dead during the time they were wandering on the island! As if I wasn't even there! They didn't deserve risking my own life which was so hard to protect until now!

No, it's a trick! The stupid thing is trying to stop me from attacking! Don't try your games with me, sister!

'Touchram!', I growl, trying to break the vision haunting me.

'What do you think you're doing?!', the silhouette of a slovenly girl with a distinct speech defect, still present in the crystal, shouts.

'Going through you!', I respond furiously, driven mad that due to the stay on the island, I'll develop the split personality. I shot Augerfrost at her.

That little half-arsed something which was me someday, parries the attack with one hand. She squints her eyes in anger, then turns away buoyantly, raising both arms to the sky.

'Kilthane!', she lisps. 'Gareon! Strix!'

Yeah, try again, honey. It just so happens that their amulets are still in my pocket.

O-oh. The energy twirling around me starts to form more clear shapes…

'What's that supposed to do?!', I choke out, seeing the summoned Titans appearing in front of me.

'You wouldn't attack your own bonded Titans, would you?!', that little bitch is certainly making fun of me! 'After all, they're the only ones who haven't betrayed you!'

Her voice echoes in my head. Betrayed you… Betrayed… Betrayed… the sound is as painful as scratching glass with a nail…

'Stay back!', I yell when the Titans come at me, 'cause I don't have enough power to stop them in any other way… I fall onto my knees, pressing my hands to my ears, trying to defend myself against the strange voices, but my head is splitting under the intrusion of the piercing, racking whispers:

'Everyone's betrayed you… you're alone… all alone… no one will help you… alone… ALL ALONEEEEE…!'

Yes. Yes, I am alone. I don't have anyone who will come hearing my scream. Klaus hasn't been calling for few days, satisfied with my wry texts. I wonder after how many days he'll realize that I won't manage to find any interesting info for him anymore…

And them, my team… They probably won't even notice that something's wrong. Trapped in their fantasies, they'll forget soon that I even existed… Sophie has never cared about me, for Lok, it's only her who matters, I frighten Cherit like the Predator, and Dante… oh, his whole affection ends when he doesn't need me on a mission… He once said that I could always count on him, and now… Where is he when I need him?! I WAS LEFT ALONE!

Damn it, I've always been alone and I managed to keep going somehow! And now, unfortunately for you, I've got some support!

I sink my hand into the depths of my pockets, feverishly searching for that one particular pointed shape. There it is; I wrap it into my fingers and draw it out, letting the sunbeams dance in the purple gem.

'CLEAR MY PATH, KING BASILISK!', I shout desperately.

The shiver of a strange energy strikes through me, but it's not trying to turn my brain into a pulp; just the opposite, it activates every cell of my withering body to fight, incites to stand up and face the danger – which is exactly what I'm doing. No one refuses the ruler. Especially King Basilisk, who claims his reign with a piercing roar and scares the enemies away, sweeping his tail so violently that he reaches the rock; some stones come down the versant, there are scratches left on the crystal.

'Uhhh, we did it…', I sigh with relief to myself, shaking a bit 'cause I still feel like a pudding heart. Good that King Basilisk took care of the attackers.

Not every one of them. Suddenly Kilthane emerges in front of me, raising his curved sword. I can try to cover myself with my arm – not much of a difference if I am put into the coffin in one or two pieces.

'Go, Caliban!'

A shape agile like a panther lands between me and my own Titan set against me. Kilthane falls onto the ground, rammed brutally with an armor-plated shoulder. I raise my stare; where the emptiness of the dark knight's visor was earlier, now I see a windblown, white mane. Caliban… if he's here, there must be also…

'Dante!'

Geee, do I really hear an ineffable relief, joy and disbelief in my own voice?! It's impossible… I can't be glad to see that moron manipulated by a mere blond chick…

However… When I just see that familiar silhouette in front of me, I feel how somewhere inside me, in a place which was filled by stream of fear and pain before, a warmth gets lit, and the hole through which uncertainty flowed in disappears… He didn't lie. He really came. He didn't let me get hurt.

And that's not important that instead of entering spectacularly like Bruce Lee, he just stands, nibbling at a nectarine.

'Sorry it took so long', he speaks between the bits. 'I had to stop for some groceries.'

I'm able to forgive you that, you idiot, because, damn it… I've never been so happy to see that unshaven mug of yours…

But I will whack your mouth anyway just in case, 'cause if you were just a second late…

Before I manage to fulfill my threat, someone grasps my shoulders. It's Kilthane who raised from the ground and decided to finish his action. Luckily Caliban is on guard – one sword slash and the dark knight is gone.

Alright… I guess it was some kind of a warning that I should stop with the punishments. OK, OK, I won't punch him. At least not now.

'Why is this happening?', I ask, approaching Dante, now without any bad intentions.

Before he responds, Gareon charges at us. Cross my heart, I love him… but only when he's on my side. In any other case he's… annoying, especially when he intends to kill me. And combining his power with Strix's efforts, he can succeed.

Dante pulls me away before the rays from the Titan's eyes shoot me. The gecko prepares to fire another blow, but…

'Freelancer!'

'Stop them, Sabriel!'

The help arrives, guised as the headstrong Lok and Sophie! The steel shield separates me from the lizard's murderous glare. Freelancer pins the gecko with his lance easily. It's not pleasant for me to watch, but… I remind myself that the real Gareon is laying safely in my pouch. Just like Strix who vanishes in a pop, cut in half by Sabriel's rapier.

My alter ego clenches her fist with anger, but she raises it in a quite proud manner.

'I'm not done yet!', she assures us boastfully.

'Oh yes, you are!', I retort 'cause I'm fed up with that little bitch. Only me can finish her off. And that's the right time to do so. 'King Basilisk!', I make a signal.

The girl turns around rapidly and raises her head, just now noticing a muzzle with bared teeth above her. It's my reptile's mean grin. As a goodbye before he sweeps all the past nightmares away from the surface of the earth with one big wag of tail.

I breathe heavily, observing how the crystal crumbling into thousands of greenish shards, glistening in the sun like the tears of the girl whose scream full of helplessness, protest and despair still fill the air.

But she's already gone. And won't come back.

The same day, 18:01

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

'Good job, everyone', Dante praised his team. 'It's over.'

It was true; the only thing that had left from the rock were the shards of the greenish crystal and a yawning hollow gaping in the top of the mountain, big enough for King Basilisk to curl up in it, what he had already done, probably claiming the hole as his new nest.

'That was such a magical trap!', Lok stated, biting mango and staring at the reptile, or rather his paw because he didn't dare to raise his glare higher; he still remembered about the lizard's deadly eye power and wasn't going to check if it still worked.

'It must've been left to guard an important treasure', Sophie guessed. 'Let's… Uhm, wait a minute!', she stopped halfway, turning away from the mountain. 'How did you have time to go and get food?', she asked suspiciously.

'Well…', Lok fazed, which didn't disturb him in eating the fruit, though. 'It was kinda on the way, Sophie… Are you OK?', he asked naively.

He should have read from the girl's face that no, she wasn't.

'You two are unbelievable!', she burst, raising her arms to the sky as if she had been taking it as a witness. 'Zhalia was fighting for her life, and all you could think about was…', she was in a pother over it, gesturing vividly, then she lowered her arms helplessly, as if she couldn't have found any more words to denounce their actions. 'Oh, nevermind, I'm so hungry I can't think! Give me some of that!', she demanded from Lok.

'No way!', the boy responded, probably still remembering her mocking after his morning failure. 'Find your own!', he added, then ran away laughing, noticing the dangerous sparks in his schoolmate's eyes and finding an ideal occasion to banter with her a bit.

'Get back here!', the girl growled, pursuing him.

Dante observed those two with amusement, finishing the apricot. However, when he started to nibble at Sophie's words, he stated that she had been right, somehow… Although his common sense was telling him that if he hadn't stopped for some food, he wouldn't have done anything, but it wasn't exactly the first thing he should have thought about. After all, he satisfied the biggest hunger. Now he could function normally.

He looked around, searching for Zhalia. He noticed with surprise that the woman was lying on the ground, curled up in the shade of a tree, with her hands placed under her cheek instead of a pillow, contorted uncomfortably. How tired she must've been to fall asleep despite such a rough position?

Dante approached her and knelt down, turning her to himself lightly. Her breath skimmed over his fingers; warm, regular, just a bit too fast. He brushed away some of her tousled strands, uncovering her face and examining it with concern. He was struck noticing how vulnerable and innocent that face looked; where had that fierce, self-confident expression of the go-getting agent gone? Now it was replaced by tightened lids, pursed lips and a disturbed twitch coming through all of her muscles. Dante really regretted that he didn't have his cloak on. He would take it off and wrap her into it up to ears. However… it was June. What a stupid idea. But today only such stupid ones were crossing his mind.

Just then he realized that for a few moments, he had been smoothing her cheek automatically. He took his hand back, embarrassed by that observation, though anyone couldn't have seen that. He stated that instead of doing bollocks and acting like a complete blockhead, he should have taken Zhalia away from here. She had to rest and it wasn't the best place to do so.

He gently slipped his hands under her knees and back. When he was about to lift her, he noticed a flutter of her lids. She looked at him distractedly.

'You can sleep', he calmed her down. 'I'll take you to the boat. We'll come back here later.'

She blinked few times, shook her head and raised on her elbow, then sat up, brushing her hair back. She hadn't say anything for some time, looking around and gathering her thoughts. She slowly managed to pull all the facts together.

'Have I slept for long?', she asked in a hoarse voice.

'Maybe five minutes', he responded. 'It was a hard day.'

'You can't imagine', she retorted, dusting herself off from sand and twigs. He reached his hand out to her and helped her stand. She looked at him gratefully. 'Have you already found the island's treasure?'

'Hm, we didn't have a chance', he threw suggestively, peeking back.

Zhalia also gazed above his shoulder at the mountain where King Basilisk were glaring at them, wagging his tail left and right like a pendulum.

'Of course', she murmured. 'I'm not sure if anyone would manage to make him go away.'

'Could you try?', he encouraged her. 'You defeated Medea, King Basilisk won't be a challenge for you.'

'Shut up or you'll enrage him', she threw with amusement, then she approached the mountain and raised both hands to tame the reptile. He listened to her coax and turn-ons reluctantly, returning to the amulet. Zhalia turned to Dante with triumph.

'You coming?', she asked.

'Are you sure you don't want to go back and sleep for some time?', he wanted to make it clear. 'You seem exhausted. It can wait.'

She denied again.

'Let's deal with it right now', she proposed. 'Don't you think you'll brass me off and pick up the prize yourselves!', she warned him. 'After all… what would you do without me?', she added more gently, with a light smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

Dante gave the smile back, observing her, with her hands akimbo, her ruffled hair, rings under her eyes and the sleeve of her blouse torn, the obvious signs that the woman had done her best today… just to save a bunch of naïve jerks they had turned out to be.

'Yes', he admitted softly. 'What would we do without you, Zhalia?'

The same day, 20:31

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

'Medea helped Jason complete his quest easily, but she became his greatest foe. You must remember: no matter how good things appear to be, they can be deceptive…'

Cherit's voice rang all around the beach, reaching even Dante's ears. The man raised his head from above the beams supporting the boat, listening to the end of gargoyle's tale. With a moral, of couse. He sighed realizing that that conclusion summarized his today experiences perfectly.

He had had a feeling that he had been so close! That he had just needed some effort to help Metz! That everything he had had to do had been finding some suitable components and deferring to Medea's help to brew them! That it had been only one flower, one mushroom away and…

Now that the cruel sorceress' trick had been revealed, he couldn't believe how he could have fallen for it so easily. It was obvious the Titan had been leading him by the nose not to let him discover the island's secrets! She could've been cheating him like that his whole life and him, blinded, would've been wasted time, constantly strengthened in his belief that he had been so close to achieving his goal.

And maybe she had planned to harm him even worse than playing with him… Dante studied the Argonauts myth more carefully, paying more attention to the fragments about Medea. He had lost heart when he had read that the mythical sorceress in fact once brewed a potion which had brought back the life and health of Aeson, Jason's father; however, he had quickly shook it off when he had also read that the scheming witch could have also prepared a poison which she had given to Pelias. Could he really gamble like that with Metz's life and risk treating him to a decoction of unknown content?

Still, it had felt so good to believe for a moment that there had been a chance to win over the friend's illness, and the solution had been so close… He had already imagined the miracle cure, he had waited impatiently for the soothing of that never-ending fear about Metz's life… Now the uncertainty came back, additionally increased by the awareness that he had lost so much time for fruitless efforts.

If not Zhalia, he would have been still trifling away the priceless minutes.

He combed his hair with his fingers, then he hid both hands in his pockets. Much to his surprise, in one of them he found a creased violet flower. He examined it carefully, wondering if he shouldn't have consulted its features with some expert herbalist… The wind blew, the stalk quaked in his fingers, flashed deceptively. Few leaves got ripped off and floated above the sea. When one of them fell onto the surface, the water went darker. Dante shook himself off, then crushed the rest of it in his hand, turning it into dust which got carried away by the breeze.

'It's not over, Metz', he promised, staring at the horizon where the golden and orange sun was setting.

'Dante?'

He twitched, hearing Zhalia's voice behind him. He turned to her, surprised. He was sure she was still napping; she had gone to sleep right after they had returned to the boat. Meanwhile she was standing before him, embracing herself with her arms, though it was still warm; he judged that gesture had an additional meaning.

'What happened? You should rest', he remarked gently.

She shook her head, then tilted it a bit, looking at the water licking the starboard. Her lashes were casting an open-work shade onto her cheeks.

'I'd like to go for a walk', she responded, then raised her stare at him; there was an unspoken proposition showing in her eyes.

He understood it. He smiled lightly.

'So, shall we go?', he said simply, and she gave the smile back.

The same day, 20:47

Medea Island

The Aegean Sea

I don't know what came over me. I really don't have a clue.

I was lying on the deck, trying to fall asleep unsuccessfully, haunted by old demons, and not finding anything which could keep my thoughts busy; they had been circling around the same topic for few hours. I managed to close my eyes few times, but when I was starting to dream about the past, I was waking up rapidly by shaking my head. No, I couldn't sink into my memories again, letting them take away my inner peace. I won over them once. Everything that has already happened is not going to come back, I tried to convince myself. In vain.

And suddenly, completely out of that blue, I thought that I need a walk. Not alone, best. And since the first person I saw when I got up was Dante…

fact, the first people I saw were Lok and Sophie, chasing each other around through the beach like kids… whom they actually are. And I knew I don't want to spend the evening surrounded by their laughter, not able to share that joy.

Dante pulled me to himself somehow. Maybe 'cause in his posture when he was standing like that on the shore and gazing into the distance, I noticed the sadness, which, though different than mine, strangled him as powerfully as mine? I'd rather sadden together than be the only person in the company who can't find any reason to laugh myself sick.

Eventually, we turned our backs to the kids fooling around and walked in the opposite direction. Not talking. Supposedly next to each other, trying to keep our distance, but brushing each other's arms over and over when we waded in the sand powdery like castor sugar. Just like that, ordinarily. But pleasant, somehow… especially when I constantly catch Dante's gazes on me.

'I should apologize to you', he speaks up finally, making slow, cautious steps.

'I must admit that', I respond, realizing that I don't want to butter him up. I get bogged in the prisms of sand every minute; luckily it's not getting into my boots.

'I acted like a jerk', he confesses, obviously repentant. What a music for my ears.

'As if it was the first time', I sigh theatrically, waving my hand disrespectfully. 'I got used to that. Though I'd never have thought that you regard yourself as such a Casanova that even the female Titans keep hitting on you…', I mock him, wanting to accentuate that his interest in Medea didn't slip away unacknowledged. I know that I was ready to smash him like a tomato for that before, but now when I kicked Medea's butt, it's easier to tease him about that temporary fascination. The danger got eliminated.

My ironic joke stays unanswered for a moment.

'Don't worry', I throw patronizingly. 'Every guy would lose his head if a chick in transparent gowns pulled him into the bushes so willingly.'

Having some knowledge about Dante's sense of humor, I thought that this remark would amuse him. It turns out to be different. Vale's face darkens.

'It's not like that', he responds quietly. 'It's my… trouble again. Remember, I mentioned it in Vienna.'

'Yeah', I nod. 'I constantly hear unclear allusions. I'm reminding you that you also mentioned that you'll explain everything to me someday', I add trenchantly to let him know that I have enough of understatements.

Dante turns his stare to the sea.

'Yes', he admits finally, deep in his thoughts, 'but that's not this 'someday' yet.'

I regard it as a tactful form of a strict refusal. Too bad. This evening creates a proper atmosphere for confidences. Call me sentimental if you want, but I'm sure that I prove the lack of subtleness and romantic touch with every unrefined joke I make.

'Maybe someday', Dante adds suddenly; and that word again, 'there will be a time when we will be able to talk openly about our secrets…'

He turns around to look at me questioningly, enquiringly, as if he hoped that I'd confirm it. On the background of the bleeding sun, he looks like in a halo; his hair burn with the gamut of fiery colors, his cloak is waving around his tall, muscular silhouette.

I wrap myself in my arms tighter, feeling a sudden flow of cold; maybe it's due to the breeze blowing above the darkening sea, which slowly swallows the passing day.

No, we won't, Dante. Never. If I confessed my secrets to you, we could no longer walk across the shore together, admire the sunset and talk so friendly. But it won't happen. It can't.

The silence drags on; I have a feeling that it's awkward only for me. I don't see Dante's face, 'cause he's staring at the graying horizon again.

'Are you angry with me?', he asks eventually.

I should. I would want to. But I can't. Because you saved my life today. That's not important that we're even 'cause I also rescued you many times. You did much more for me. You searched for me. You came when no one even heard me screaming.

'No', I respond in a whisper, which comes out more gentle than I intended. 'I'm not. It was exactly how Medea's trap worked. She wanted to possess us, that's why she aimed at our weakest spots. She offered us the things we want the most…'

Dante looks at me carefully again.

'And what do you want the most, Zhalia?', he asks seriously,

approaching me. He stands before me; not close enough to let me feel his smell, but enough for him to look into my eyes and, if he stares well, notice how embarrassed his question made me. I turn my head aside.

'Now', I start with emphasis, 'I just want to come back to the boat.'

And not waiting for his reaction, I pass by him and turn back. I don't want him to sense that I lied. 'Cause return to the boat isn't exactly what I really desire now. Nor the power I sought my whole life.

For that moment, my only wish is breaking not only Medea's spell. I wish Dante's eyes stopped holding such a sway over me. Such an influence that I feel like a Titan someone is trying to form a bond with. And if he succeeds, there will be no turning back.

He won't. I won't give him a chance.