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!

18. Chapter 18: Cheating a Cheater

Long time no see!

Did you know that this sentence was invented by Chinese emigrants who couldn't speak 'It's been a long time' properly?

Alright, I'm just trying to fast talk you to delay the moment when I will have to explain myself for such a long absence.

I'm sorry, guys. I really tried to do my best, but there was a lot of things that kept me away from writing. I don't want to play on your feelings by poor excuses, but I will just try to abridge you that month.

First: just as I expected, I failed my History exam. Luckily, most of my grade did, so I didn't feel alone in that failure. I don't say I enjoyed my colleagues' loss, but it's better to fail with friends, right? Besides, I'd feel like a worst idiot if I was one among, let's say, four who didn't make it. I'm still sad about that, though, mostly because I will have to re-take it soon and I still don't feel prepared enough. I hope a miracle would happen...

Second: like always, I had a lot of work. New tests, new kanji signs, Chinese lessons... You can imagine how it feels like to be deep in the work. I don't have to describe it further. Let me just say - Chinese is a drug. Not due to the language alone - the grammar is rather simple - but the schedule of that course is rather messed for me. Why am I supposed to read dialogues written in signs I've just seen during the same lesson?!

Third: the end of winter found me dull, exhausted and nervous. I don't know why - maybe it's the weather? It changes so often - the sun, then the snow, and so on. It's always like that in March, at least in Poland. I feel as if I was waking up from a long winter dream... It might take a while to gain new strength.

Fourth - connected to the previous one and the most important, I think - I've tried to make this chapter perfect. And I got stuck. I've changed the plot so many times that I got lost in it myself. Then, I rewrote it again - and still don't know if it's good enough to post. But, as you were starting to get impatient, I couldn't let you down.

This chapter was originally approx. eight pages longer. However, I thought that the events occuring after the main adventure are also very important and deserve a separate chapter. After all, Ryder's case isn't just a casual thing... I guess the Foundation wouldn't just get over it. But I'm not sure if you would like to read about the later investigation and Zhalia's struggles to keep herself covered. I can just tell that this chapter would introduce new characters, yet don't push aside the main pairing - on the contrary, develop their bond even further.

If you vote against it, I'll just try to write a short ending there. However, I'm not sure if it would be that good, as I'm not very skilled in diminishing my stories. But the choice is yours.

Thank you guys for being there and writing to me despite my absence. You always make my day. I didn't expect anyone to already miss my story. I know you all like to read it, but... aww, I can't explain it... I thought that was just like 'Oh, new chapter. I will read. Oh, no chapter. Let it be'. However, you always surprise me. You proved you are like... fans (I don't know if that's a good word, it would make me an idol and I don't feel like one...). No, let's write: devoted Readers.
I read all the comments and longed for a chance to answer them. So, here it comes.

- Joey8: I was so touched when I found your message in my inbox. It gave me a big kick to get back to work - both education and writing. I'm sorry I didn't make it as fast as I promised. But I managed to update during weekend! I think we have similar overview on the way the minor characters are treated in Huntik. I'm actually happy I could give Cathy more room. I plan to lengthen her screentime. She's a very fresh character, I think she and Zhalia would make a good duo - better than Zhalia and Sophie, actually.
I hope Ryder will gather as much praises as her :) I actually like his way of speaking - it's so different from Dante's calm and collected demeanor. We fell in love with Dante's chivalry and joy and any of us doesn't expect him to suddenly change into a bad boy, but... they are also necessary! At least to be villains or add the sarcasm :) So, having Ryder around, I can satisfy both needs.
- Kimberly: My heart almost broke when I read your desperate comment... I couldn't wait any longer. I hope you'd enjoy this chapter and soothe your longing a bit... especially 'cause I stuffed a lot of Ryder's humor into it :D Maybe he's not exactly a character that seems appealing from the start and might leave you wonder why the hell Zhalia fancied him, but... sometimes we girls get hit on the head or something and go chasing after boys whom we didn't see as ideals. And so, if we have Dante whom we love for his stability and thoughtfulness, here's also Ryder who strikes with a bastard charm. Anyway, I hope I would explain their relationship better in the upcoming chapters, adding Zhalia's thoughts about it. For now, just a preview.
- Jess: I've always wanted to dwell into the Lamberts' household a bit, as I simply love family relationships... They struck me with their care for each other. Remember all the scenes when Lok's mother rushes to his aid and he gets enraged when the villains hurt her? They always make me touched. I think about my Mom then, and I know she would do the same for me. And though I'm not always the best daughter and happen to hurt her myself, I'd never ever let anyone lay a finger on her or offend her in any way. And about Cathy - I also have an older sister. We scuffle and argue, we call each other names, but every tease is full of our mutual love. I don't know what it is about having a father away, like Eathon - mine is with me, luckily - but I know that if we got separated, I would miss him like hell, even if we often fall apart. I will always cherish family bonds - and praise them in my chapters.
- CindyKayla: I'm sorry for omitting the date! There will be one... if you decide to have another chapter about Irish adventures. It'll turn the tables... Zhalia would lose some of her sharpness. I guess it will also give Dante a chance to make up for his gaffes and show some of his balls (not literally, you perverts ;P), which some people question he has. Some of my friends accused Dante of being too soft. I also wonder if I don't make him too... you know... wimpy. I've always seen him as gentle yet strong, but maybe my imagination and the way I write don't match? I don't want the readers to wonder 'Why does Zhalia fancy such a pussy?!', just to nod their heads and say 'Ah, I perfectly understand her...' So, if you have any observations on that topic, please, share them with me.

- CrzyAsians: thanks for following, hope you'll favourite as well, but if something keeps you from it, tell me, maybe it'll help me improve :) Please stay here and have fun!

What else can I say? I hope this chapter is good enough to make you forgive me. But hell, I'm telling you, I haven't been so anxious in a while... I'm preparing for a rain of tomatoes!

Please, have mercy!

Sha

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15th July 2009, Wednesday, 15:35

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Dante's walkthrough broke the spherical Overshield like a muslin curtain when left the safety zone as soon as he got convinced that the cave-in wouldn't surprise him with another attempt to smash him like a tomato. He dashed to the rocky wall and plastered to it, examining it closely. He tried to find a hole in the thick rubble, but as he looked closer at its surface, his hope to discover at least a slightest slit decreased drastically every minute. He reached the end of the wall and started to search again, shifting the smaller stones, sliding his hand between the larger boulders and checking if they were movable, then bracing himself against the ground and pressing them with his whole body, despite the pain piercing his muscles. The rampart was thick and made of big blocks. There was no way for a single man to break it. But for a Titan… Metagolem, perhaps…

Vale checked the free space to estimate if the colossus would fit in the place. The Titan would have to bent a bit… however, the possibility of the awkward giant throwing off egg-sized stones from above raised. The ceiling was unstable already, violating it even more could have meant sealing their fate. Then, Caliban maybe? No; the warrior's strength came in handy many times, but even for him, removing the burden would take few hours, if not longer. They didn't have as much time.

Dante growled, thinking desperately of another plan, but his thoughts seemed to stuck in place, unable to invent some other ways to solve the situation, paralyzed by tension and fright spreading through his veins. Out of anger, he banged his fists against the surface of the rubble, insensible to the pain caused by small sharp pebbles nailing into his skin and moved only by his own helplessness. He clenched his teeth, letting a long set of Italian curses escape his mouth in a piercing whisper and clamping his lids. In the silence broken only by his furious hiss, Scarlet's sobs sounded very loud. And… annoying like hell, especially to his shaken inner calmness. Damn, even his usual patience couldn't have resisted such behavior. Of course, that was an easiest way to solve problems: sit there, do nothing apart from crying and wait for another cave-in to bury them here. A brilliant idea, really!

He shook himself off like a dog after a bath, disgusted by such visions. There was no option for him to surrender now. Zhalia could be somewhere behind the blocks... under them… unconscious, injured, helpless… or…

No, he protested stridently against that doomsayer sneaking into his head. Don't you even dare thinking like that, Vale. There's nothing certain unless you see it with your own eyes, remember.

And the only thing he saw was Zhalia's absence. It didn't mean anything. As a competent agent, she wasn't new to such dangerous and unexpected events and had proved many times she could find a right way to effectively avoid unpleasant accidents, even caught by surprise. Maybe she had found shelter in the nearest nook and got stuck on the other side of the wall. He shouldn't have lost his hope yet. And regain control immediately. Someone had to do so, if Scarlet wasn't going to take responsibility for the mission she had dragged them into.

He straightened up, stretching out his strained shoulders and resuming what he had noticed until now. Apparently, the destroyed cavern got divided in two parts. As Dante estimated from the measurements of the whole chamber, they got stuck in the bigger section; the entrance of the tomb was cut away from either of the segments, though. However, there were still other tunnel mouths left… It might have seemed difficult, but…

'We'll have to find another way out', he stated, separating from the wall; he winced, feeling all the places when rock had grazed his knuckles.

Scarlet's only response was a loud sob. And that was the worst answer she could've given him; it stung his hectic nerves and hit their weakest spot, already at the edge of breaking into a scream. For a moment when his primitive instincts prevailed, he wanted to turn away and yell at her to zip it up, to act like a grown-up, not a little girl, to lift the burden of her actions, to carry the consequences she deserved for her stupid cocky ideas; to throw at her that for the first time in her life, she should have stopped giving up in stalemate and relying on the others to correct her mistakes.

But he couldn't bring himself to do that when he looked at her and opened his mouth to let the harmful words escape them. Suddenly, he shut his gob, chewing all the reproofs, his arms lowered at the sight of the woman kneeling on the floor. Yellowish dust had sifted her whole silhouette, however, she was far from looking like a fairy covered in golden powder. Her tousled curls' bright red shade had gotten dimmed by the dirt, her creased clothes had ripped in few places, revealing few shallow, pinkish scratches and a bleeding knee. He didn't probably look better, however, at least he had quickly gotten a grip on himself. Scarlet hadn't; she trembled heavily, as if she had had an attack. If her pale fingers hadn't been tightened at his cloak, torn off his back few moments ago, her nails would turn her skin into one big wound. If it hadn't already been a gash due to the attack of the squirrel Titan, of course.

Dante felt the shame grasping at his throat when he stared at his devastated companion, recalling a violent attack of the unearthly weasel as he saw the blood trickling between her knuckles and striking with crimson against the background of her waxy complexion. Scarlet was shattered after all; he shouldn't have added to her misery by venting his anger at her. He followed his deepest, most valuable instinct and approached her, then squatted next to Byrne. He reached to her face, hidden in the duster, to take a closer look at the injuries. She recoiled, shaking her head and pressing the fabric to her cheeks so tightly that the force had left reddish spots on her temples.

'Scarlet', he said in a calm, gentle manner he had learnt to use towards devastated women who had densely filled his life, not only as a detective. 'You have to show me your face. It has to be treated before we move on.'

She protested noiselessly, wriggling even harder, but he perched her in place with a firm yet non-violent gesture, placing both hands on her shoulders.

'We don't want the scratches to get infected, right?', he carried on convincingly. 'I will just treat the wounds. I'm not a damn paparazzo to take a photo and update it in your Huntik profile, right?', he added, forcing a smile and making his voice sound confident. Only heaven knew how much it cost him.

Scarlet got stunned, then slowly, slowly removed the cloak from her face, raising her chin. Dante held back a stifled shout as he stared at the shambles the weasel had left. Scarlet's cheeks were all covered in scratches and burning stains. Blood dripping from the wounds got smeared all around and mixed with tears; a thin layer of salt dried up on her lower eyelids, her eyes red and squinted due to crying.

Her lips trembled as she noticed her reflection in Dante's eyes, so he quickly looked aside, rummaging through his backpack and drawing out a medicine kit. He cleaned Scarlet's skin with a tissue soaked in the peroxide. It made her focus on the pain not appearance; she hissed, but remained still, calmed down by Dante's murmur. She handled sticking the plasters on the biggest scratches with patience, abandoning herself to the treatment.

'Done', Dante announced, smoothing the edges of the plasters. 'Better?'

Scarlet nodded hesitantly, but her lips didn't stop to shiver warningly. Eventually, she burst into tears again and fell onto Dante's chest head on. He stiffened, not pleased by that intimacy, but then loosened again, reproaching himself that right at this moment, it didn't have any sensual meaning. She just needed comfort, a person to lean on and tell her everything would be alright. He embraced her, letting her surrender herself into his arms and bury her injured face into his clothes. He heaved a sigh and smoothed her hair in a soothing manner.

'There, there', he whispered softly, patting her shoulder. 'It's fine. No need to cry. We both are OK… the scratches will heal soon as well. We just have to get out of here.'

'Please, don't leave me', she mumbled beggingly like a child after a nightmare, breathing heavily through her blocked nose and swallowing tears. 'Please.'

'I won't', Dante assured her, through part of him wanted to go as far away as possible from her grip resembling a straitjacket. 'We have to stick together.'

Stick together, his brain mocked him. You've already lost one of your teammates.

Yes. Zhalia. Zhalia, her location and state unknown, lost somewhere in the tomb, separated from the main halls of the labyrinth, with no way to get out, maybe stuck under the boulder or left at mercy of that mysterious Organization muscleman…

He freed himself from Scarlet's embrace and stood up. She looked at him, disoriented and puzzled by that sudden change. Meanwhile, Dante checked the reception in his phone. No signal, just as he expected. He opened the Internet browser. Failure as well. After all, they were underground. Holotome was working, but as the connection was off, they wouldn't contact anyone and check any of the maps stored in the online database. There was only the paper map left. And human mind, the source of knowledge independent of the availability of network and telephony.

'We're cut off the electronic assistance, we can't even send the red alert to get help from the Foundation', he explained. 'We have to rely on our own skills. However, I don't know the tomb', he said sturdily. 'I will need your guidance to get us out. Will you manage?'

Scarlet eyed him for a moment, checking his expression, as if she had expected him to burst into a mean laughter and tell her he had only joked, knowing that such a wimp like her wouldn't be any help. However, he wasn't going to, such thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He kept still, unmoved, encouraging. Finally, she nodded.

'I will', she murmured, wiping the tears off the face with the sleeve of his duster. When she realized that, her face got confused. 'Oh, I'm sorry…', she looked at the black spots left by her mascara. 'I always mess everything up…'

She was about to break apart again, but Dante quickly took the duster from her hands and flung it over his shoulders.

'Don't bother', he said calmly. 'I've got worse problems than a stained cloak. But', he added a bit more loudly, seeing her chin shivering dangerously at those words, 'it's a right time to try to fix them. Let's go. We have to find Zhalia. She may need us.'

Scarlet didn't seem cheered up, but accepted with resignation. As they descended into the lower parts of the tomb, Dante could just pray she wouldn't cause more troubles and be a burden if they met another extremes. However, despite his request for help, he felt that he'd be the one to carry the weight of this mission on his shoulders.

If it meant finding Zhalia safe and sound, he'd accept those conditions without hesitation.

The same day, 15:36

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

I can't convince myself I'm not dreaming. I'd rather believe in one of my morning nightmares that in the view spreading before my eyes. I pinched myself furtively, just in case, but it didn't help. Maybe I did something wrong, maybe there's a special pattern of pinching to break mind-boggling visions. Or it's a far-fetched idea working only in the movies. Or…

I have a special habit of weaving stupid thoughts right at the times when I have to focus on more important problems, don't I? Quite an annoying thing, if you ask me. I guess it's the way my brain deals with incredible events. Is there a better description for the situation I found myself in? I'm in some stinky ancient grave which exploded right after I entered it, and when I found myself alive and well, I stood face to face the last person I should have met there. If there's someone who'd call that ordinary, apply to the mental hospital at once. Maybe we'll bump into each other there soon; due to the twists of fate my life serves me with a perverse mock, I'd probably need a special treatment someday.

In Boltflare's flickering flame, I observe a guy lying on the ground in quite an uncomfortable position, with his limbs spread like a spider's legs, though not as skinny; rather fleshy, thick like a branch and as tough as a tree trunk, what is visible even under a muddy-greenish jersey and baggy khaki trousers with protective pads on the knees. A multi-pocket vest hangs loose on his both sides, revealing his whole wide chest with clearly imprinted belly muscles a bit lower, tensing when he jeers eventually, leaning on his elbows and throwing me a stare from under his wide brows, sliding it across me up and down, and up again before giving out a short chuckle.

'What a sur-f*cking-prise, eh?', he murmurs in his raspy voice.

That old catchphrase of his… He still uses it, after all this time…

Despite my shock and disbelief, there's no doubt. I'm facing an Organization operative, one of the most efficient treasure hunters they could afford, the most hardshell freelancer and individual…

And someone I've tried to throw out of my memory a long time ago. However, as you see, it didn't help much. I'd recognize that ugly mug everywhere, he hasn't changed much since the last time I saw him.

'Ryder', I drawl slowly, trying to hide my shock and soak my words in disdain. 'But… how…?', my voice doesn't sound exactly tough, so I quickly shut my gob.

He moves his mouth slightly, though the grimace doesn't resemble a smile.

'I wasn't quite sure before, but now it's all clear! Who else would start from lightening a candle and a foreplay?', he leans his arms on his knees, then massages his bum openly, as if I wasn't there to see it. 'Though I didn't think I would bump into you right here, in a f*cking ancient dump full of stiffs after three years', he continues, not taking his eyes off me, as if he waited for my reaction. He'll wait way longer; I clench my teeth, not going to comment his stream of remarks. Not only because I'm not going to act as if I was pleased with that meeting, but also 'cause I'm afraid I'd sound so confused and puzzled again. He raises his brows questioningly.

'No more hugs?', he ironizes, opening his arms theatrically. 'I expected something more after our first meeting in a while… and saving your life', he adds, trying to pull himself together. 'Ouch, you've gained some weight, didn't you?', he says, moaning and holding his sternum like an old man. In that position, he gets up from the floor slowly, resembling a hunchback from the Notre Dame. Then he straightens up cautiously and shapes up his loose military trousers, sweeping them off the dust negligently.

'Daaamn, it was quite a blast', he speaks up when he finally pulls himself together and looks around the cavern. 'Hell, when I said: 'I want a f*cker', I didn't mean it could spread me all around the walls! ', he murmurs to himself, knocking to the rock as if he counted that a freaking cave kobold would open a hidden door and show him the way out, bowing. Suddenly, he stops, hearing a loud crack under his boot. He lifts something from the ground and then puts it closer to his eyes, squinting them. 'Well, guess me and Dud'll have a heart-to-heart soon… He thought he'd get rid of me like that or what?', he wonders out loud. 'Well, he'd be pleased it worked… at least on that wuss', he snarls and throws the item onto the ground. It slides to my feet, rolling left and right for few second; when it stops, it becomes clear it's a shell of a payload. I eye it gaping, then everything – I mean, the chain: the explosion - Ryder's blabbering – the torn asunder shell - starts to make sense… However, instead of being overjoyed by the solution and finding the origins of the sudden impact, I feel anger arising in the depths of my chest and rushing to my head with a wave of hot blood as I realize who is the 'wuss' he is talking about.

'RRRRRRRRYDERRRRRRR!', I yell, turning the R's into a growl. 'I'M GONNA ROAST YOU FOR THIS!'

The Raypulse sphere I held in my hand before flies from my hand and buzzes through the chamber like a furious hornet, flashing right before Ryder's nose and missing it by an inch. He sees it off with his stare as unconcerned as before, only smirking when it splashes on the rock like a fallen star.

'What a warm greeting', he ironizes, looking at the sparks meaningfully. 'Are you so happy to see me to set fireworks?'

His expression falls when another bullet dashes above his ear, forcing him to recoil abruptly.

'That firework can turn your balls into hard-boiled eggs in no time', I roar at him, raising another lantern. 'I've got at least one good reason to castrate you.'

'Do you mean that little spanking I gave you in Albania?', he asks innocently, blinking. 'Damn, I knew you'd come back to this… you foamed all over the mouth when I groped your chunky…'

'STOP THAT SH*T!', my lightning bullet almost turns his brain into a cooked cauliflower. 'YOU'VE BLOWN THE F*CK OUTTA THIS TOMB', I start to enumerate, accentuating every sentence with a blow, 'ALMOST BURIED ME UNDER THE BLOCKS, PROBABLY GOT RID OF MY TEAMMATES AND COMPLETELY RUINED MY MISSION!', I yell, watching him avoid the shots swiftly, much to my annoyance and adding to my ferocity. 'SO BETTER SHUT THE F*CK UP AND CUT THOSE STUPID JOKES OR I WILL…'

I give out a shout of fury and shock when suddenly some of the bullets ricochet against the barrier he raised and force me to move quickly not to get hit. Ryder bursts into laughter, seeing my wild dance. It enrages me even more, shading my sobriety; I dash forward, leaping at him fiercely. He smoothly avoids my kick, with his face bored as if he was bothered by a nasty fly. I attempt to punch him, but then he catches my wrist and twists my arm onto my back. I try to use my legs to force my way out, but he takes care to disarm me; his knee stuffed between mine and hooked on one of my calves is quite a capable burden. Damn. I'm the only one guilty of my failure. I should've remember that at the distance, I'm on the upper hand. He's never been into powers and spells more advanced than basic shields and bullets. And I voluntarily moved the clash onto his territory, hand-to-hand combat, where I have no chances against such a strapper.

'Cool it', he says slowly to my ear, not loosening his grip. 'Are you f*cking crazy to scream bloody murder and lash around like a joker?! There's just been a cave-in!'

'A CAVE-IN YOU'VE CAUSED, DAMN IT!', I bark at him, trying to reach him with my free hand, however, it seems pointless, as he keeps a safe distance between us, restraining me at the same time.

'This was controlled. We don't want another one, way more unhampered, right?', he carries on, pushing my arm so strongly that it's about to get numb. 'So, calm your tits or I'll have to gag you.'

'Get off me!', I shout, still not abandoning the hope to wrench myself away. What does he think he's doing?!

THUMP.

As we struggle, a lone stone, separated from the angular ceiling, falls onto the ground right next to my feet. Not extraordinarily large – in a size of a medium aubergine. Big enough to splash my head like an egg if it fell few centimeters to the left. I swallow hardly.

'Alright', I say slowly, slackening in Ryder's grip. 'No more shouting and shooting.'

'Welcome the common sense back', he cracks scornfully.

I feel like a pumped-out bladder when he releases me. I fall onto my knees, feeling blood rushing into my numb legs like an army of ants. I rub them to make this process faster, however, it doesn't help much. When I try to get up, my calves fail me and I have to lean on the wall; there's no gentleman to help me stand…

Oh yeah, but there was at least one five minutes ago! And now… he might be everywhere. Literally. Spread on the rocks as tiny pieces of ripped flesh, blood and guts… I gulp again, trying to clear my mouth off the taste of bile which suddenly overflows it, mixing with the dust that got inside during the cave-in. How come I let this happen?! I'd have managed to help Dante… I would have casted a shield over him or something… but Ryder pulled me back into the nook before I even blinked.

And now, he's towering me, with both hands placed on his hips and a discontent face, as if I was a cockroach crawling through his sandwich. Who should be more pissed off, damn it?! It's not me who screwed everything up! More I stare at him, harder the anger boils in my guts. Eventually, I can't stand his expression anymore, so I curl up and then leap at him, slapping him across the face. He catches his jaw as if it almost fell off its place, his other hand squeezed on my wrist like a handcuff.

'What the hell was that for?!', he throws me a burning stare, tightening the grip.

'I wanna turn you into a bloody pulp for screwing my mission up!', I hiss, squinting my eyes out of fury. 'Did you have to show off?!'

'Oh yeah, I should have let that wuss crush me like a flamer on a skinhead parade', he ironizes, puffing through his nose like a balky horse.

'That WUSS', I underline, scrabbling, 'was MY prey! I was supposed to deliver that WUSS to the Professor!', I raise my voice, then got reminded about the labile ceiling and lower it to a piercing hiss: 'Alive and well enough to make Klaus extract every single info from his brain… and how am I going to do that having him turned into a minced meat?!'

'That doesn't explain a slap', Ryder shrugs, unmoved, but loosens the grasp a bit. 'I should be the one hairless. You hit Ratatoskr and made that fag find me. If you hadn't, I'd have sneaked out unnoticed, without all that shit. But I saved your life, after all', he highlights, trying to soothe my frustration. To no effect. I'm not quite moved by that confession. I'd have managed to get out alive on my own. Additionally, I wouldn't have gotten separated with my team… and let a freaking rock eliminate my precious prey.

'Thanks a lot', I scorn, shaking his hand off finally. 'Dying under the stones would be way more pleasant than the punishment Klaus will prepare for me when he learns about today.'

I fall onto a lone boulder with my butt, clenching my fists so hard that my nails leave traces on my skin. Ryder watches me cautiously from a safe distance; the faint shape of my hand on his face is still visible, after all, so he'd rather not risk another injury.

'So the rumors are true, huh?', he murmurs, still rubbing his cheek.

I peek at him expectantly, not sure what he means by that question. I was away from the Organization society for too long to know the freshest gossips. Otherwise I'd be the most knowledgeable source of info; it's my job to collect various data, just in case. Such a pity Klaus doesn't find it necessary to keep me posted about the news. I guess he doesn't want me to know that I'm becoming such a celebrity whose life is a main topic during the chatters, to preserve me from getting big-headed. No worry. After today, I'd rather want to do a Houdini.

'They say you joined the dimwits, and serve as a bait', Ryder explains, rummaging through the pocket of his military trousers.

'Oh', I choke out, those words turn the knife in the wound. A bait? Do they really talk so or it's just a translation in Ryderish? In a different situation, I'd most probably be pleased by that sudden change and interest I'm receiving, but now… Damn, if I'm already setting tongues wagging, how would they slag me off when they learn what happened…?

'Yeah', Ryder nods, not noticing my expression, now busy with checking his vest, patting the pockets. 'The Suits are making bets how long it will take you.'

Ryder's painful frankness leaves me hesitating. Not that I was surprised by his straightforwardness, but it arose a dilemma: should I be angry or amused that my colleagues are backing their cash on me like on an aspiring horse during the racing? Well, I know them too well to be offended by their greediness, however, I'm also not in the mood to roll on the floor laughing.

'What a pity', I just chuckle gloomily. 'I guess they can appoint the winner. My mission is over.'

He gets stunned, stopping the searching and knitting his brows, confused. Then, he catches something.

'You mean that wuss…', he points at the wall, probably meaning everything left behind it.

'Yup', I nod, bending my knees to my chest. 'It was Dante Vale.'

We both fall silent. Ryder seems knocked off the loop. He clears his throat, then brushes his face and centimeter-long red hair with his big, stout hand. The same pattern I remember clearly. It's hard to tell about him, but he seems preoccupied. Or just performs a well-acted scene not to endanger himself. He knows I'd gouge his eyes out if he started to fob me off with his cheesy jokes. However, when he has to tell something more witty than them, he loses his tongue.

'What a sur-f*cking-prise', he murmurs eventually, scratching his shaved chin. I snarl, hearing that. Boys never grow old of their habits. But don't expect me to slobber over that memory. I'd rather stuff that word back into his throat that welcome it with sentiment.

'He didn't look exactly like I imagined a pro. A pussy, rather', he carries on, trying to convince me, just not to fall a victim of my another outburst. Wrong way. His impressions on Dante sting me like a needle right between my bums. I know I laughed Vale off many times (damn, who wouldn't, seeing his greenish sunglasses?!), but who is Ryder to comment the other's appearance?! Brad Pitt?! Nope, he's just a big boy still playing war and looking like a plastic soldier figurine with a mug taken after Butterball from the Hellraiser movies.

'Guess it saved you a great deal', he continues, getting more and more confident, as I don't react the way he expected. 'Getting rid of such a poove was far below your skills', he greases me, sending me his cocky stare from the corner of his eyes.

'It won't be a justification for Klaus', I dampen his enthusiasm. 'He'll skin me for this. I'm sure.'

Then silence again. No one has anything to add. I don't expect Ryder to deny my statement. Everyone in the Organization knows how erratic Klaus can be, even if they only listen to the gossips about him and his stubbornness. Those who know him can admit that all the stories about him aren't exaggerated. I'd rather say: incomplete. There'd be a lot more of nasty details to add.

Ryder had a chance to meet him in person. And it was quite an… intense interaction.

13th April 2004, Tuesday, 20:17

Klaus' library

Vienna

Austria

'I am repeating it a thousandth time, and this will be the last!', Klaus' hoarse voice filled the whole library, raised in an irritated manner, breaking the evening calmness like a nail scratching the glass. 'I will not pay such a horrendous sum!'

I got curious at whom the scientist yelled like that. You know, I was just an eighteen years old chick. During this short period of time, I had gone through enough not to let me grow as a normal teenager. However, I was still just a callow and even if I usually thought like a world-weary dame, there were times when my behavior truly fitted my real age. That was one of the examples: I found a twisted pleasure in listening how Klaus scolded other people. It made up for the times when he vented his anger at me.

I turned the knob, keeping my fingers crossed that it wouldn't crack, and opened the door so lightly that there was just a slit to peek into, wide enough for one eye. I examined the interior as far as I could. Klaus was sitting in his leather armchair, like always. He repeated the same scheme every time someone visited him: a suitor entered his room and stood puzzled, not noticing him, and then he almost got a heart attack when the man suddenly turned the chair away from the curtained window. Klaus just loved their impressions. I thought he dreamt of a day when one of the petitioners would drop dead right in front of him and grant him another specimen to experiment on.

However, not this time again. The guy sitting before him didn't seem a wimp who fainted at a mere noise. I guessed that looking in the mirror every day had prepared him for disgusting views… I'd never seen such an ugly nose. I didn't know why they call that shape 'Roman'. Did really Italian ancestry, one of the pillars of our culture, after all, deserve to be associated with such a nozzle? It was quite a clever tactics to turn people's flaws into advantages, making them special, giving them sophisticated names or something. Then, I should have called those man's hair titian… no. No offending the dead painter. They were red. Fricking red. No wonder he kept them so short, like a pig's bristle. However, it still struck compared to his pale skin, especially given that he had a wide forehead, furrowed and creased as well as his face. He doesn't seem old, though. Rather like a tearaway who didn't hesitate to use his head as a ram and start a struggle in a bar, given his impressive built and muscles cambering his clothes. He had to have beef, as he lounged in his chair as if he hadn't been sitting in front of his superior agent and trying to make a deal with him. As he listened to Klaus' defenses, he just raised his eyebrow and leaned forward.

'This is my last word', he said calmly with some dull English accent. His appearance didn't misguide me, he was from the Isles. 'All in exchange for the goods you ordered. Everything in the state of finding. No delay. Clean and neat like a first-class callgirl's ass.'

I smirked. He spoke like a western freewheeler or a low-budgeted action movie gangster. Klaus winced, I wasn't sure if due to the terms or the words the guy used.

'Those are standard conditions!', he snarled angrily. 'Every tracker could provide me those! Without ripping my last shirt off my back for a pile of rubbish!'

'Then maybe you should find another tracker', the Englishman shrugged, still playing with his metal cigarette lighter. 'But… If that's a pile of rubbish, why do you need it so much?', he shut the lighter and leaned to Klaus curiously, his muscular back, tucked in a khaki jersey, hunched a bit.

'That shouldn't bother you', Klaus chided him.

'It does', the man denied, the corner of his mouth lifted a bit. 'Maybe I should double the prize if that's so important.'

'A bold youngster you are!', Klaus remarked scornfully. 'And that is what makes me the most suspicious. Such brave lads tend to run away right after they smell fresh banknotes. I will not pay even an earnest without a proper agreement.'

'I'm not signing any papers', the stranger shook his head. 'My word must be enough for an assurance.'

'A word of some random tracker means as much as a cur's piss for me!', Klaus barked as if he was a mongrel himself.

'Too bad', the guy commented ostentatiously, raising from his chair. 'So, you'll have to scorch to England on your own, geezer', he threw disrespectfully, turning away.

'Mind your tongue, you bantling!', Klaus barked, jerking up from his seat and reaching his hand out. I fell onto my bum when an impact of an explosion threw me back. I quickly got up from the floor only to find both men standing face to face and ready to pounce at each other ferociously. Klaus' hand was still covered in green Poisonfang venom and there were shreds of Overshield barrier still glistening around the redhead's boots on the carpet.

'F*ck you, loony!', the tracker spitted at Klaus' feet, his saliva making a neat arch before landing at the wooden panels. 'You're the one who brought me here and now is sulking! Stick that cash in our ass, now I wouldn't accept the mission even if you turned my shits gold! I just don't know', his narrow eyes flash like fox's peepers for a moment, 'what the Professor will say when he learns that you stopped the research only due to stinginess…'

'You bastard!', Klaus attempted to attack again… but I dashed into the room and caught his arm.

I smirk to myself bitterly. Oh yeah. If I hadn't stepped in during their first encounter, it could have gotten way more unpleasant. However, I couldn't have known that I'd be the one regretting that bold choice.

'Klaus, what's going on here?!', I jumped between them, though I wasn't sure if it would hold any of them back from starting a fight, even if it meant tearing me into pieces.

'That straggler tries to make a fool of me!', the Austrian growled, his veins clearly visible on his temples. 'He thinks I would let him rip me off all the money with no guarantee that he would turn back with the requested items! I will not stand such impudence in my own house! Let go off me!', he struggled, trying to free his hand, but I knew him for too long not to take advantage on his weakest spots to restrain him.

'Hold it', I calmed him down, hissing. 'I'll handle it. How much is your price?', I asked the guy out loud.

I observed how he straightened up, losing some of a caged predator-like appearance. He eyed me suspiciously, looking me up and down, and up again. More he stared, harder it was for me to stand it, as his lips started to bend in quite a racy manner. When he hummed with satisfaction, stopping for a moment at the most strategic points of my silhouette, I was about to punch him right in the face so hardly that his nose would sink into the depths of his skull. If it hadn't been rather oblate after all.

'One thousand five hundreds pounds', he responded lightly, not taking his peepers off my cleavage. That's probably why I felt as if he had estimated my own price.

I smacked my lips and snarled to show him my discontent. Who was him to demand such a high reward?! I'd worked for Klaus longer than him and never seen a half of that money!

'However, I could think about decreasing it a bit… if you propose me as interesting offer', he added, moving his brows up and down suggestively.

Good thing I had to hold Klaus, otherwise I'd crush the tracker like a disgusting maggot.

'Alright, finish him off', I shrugged and let go of Klaus. The treasure hunter blinked, not understanding the sudden twist. However, he immediately switched to a combat mode; he lifted his guard abruptly, preparing for another clash. Then Klaus jerked his hand up; the guy tensed, but the scientist only caught his chin in a wondering manner, his artificial eye flashed behind the monocle as he gazed at me as if I had been a goddess who had blessed him with enlightenment. I responded with a furious stare, not understanding his changeable behavior.

'Wait', he soothed me. 'Remember that cleaning the Persian rug will cost even more. I guess that in that case, accepting your offer would be wiser', he nodded to the treasure hunter.

I gaped, dumbstruck by his shocking reaction. He went mad over his money but ignored treating me like a slut?! Uh… It shouldn't have surprised me, after all.

'However', he continued, now with a smile as mild as his velvet vest, 'I still need a guarantee that you will fulfill your duties to the letter.'

'And the guarantee will be…?', the stranger responded, his tense voice coated with politeness; I couldn't believe in that sudden change. A moment before, they had been about to go to the limits to wipe each other off existence, and now they have a lord-like conversation?!

I shivered when Klaus placed his hand on my shoulder and said as if it had been obvious:

'Her, of course.'

'WHAT?!', I managed to choke out along with the tracker before the scientist pushed me forward like a gladiator onto the arena, thrown to the lions. The ginger lost interest in Klaus, ignoring even the threat that he'd get turned into a frog in no time if he stopped watching the scientist carefully. He focused on me, piercing me with his wolfish eyes. I felt like under an X-ray, with shivers shooting through me from head to toes. I couldn't even back having Klaus behind me. I just stood there like a cow to be sold when the traders were discussing the transaction.

'You will just have to accept an extra passenger or say goodbye to your money', Klaus crossed his arms on his skinny chest. 'And I guess that the Professor would be even more disappointed by your refusal to a superior operative than by my delay…', he added in passing, examining his nails ostentatiously.

'No way. Do you suppose me to babysit that chick?', the hunter lost interest in my anatomic details and paid more attention to the practical terms. Balancing it with visual advantages, he apparently voted they were no match for his methods of working. He seemed to have some brain, luckily.

'Don't worry', Klaus waved his hand dismissively. 'Zhalia is not one you would have to look after.'

The guy's eyes returned to me quickly. I felt their chilliness on my skin when they made a journey through my body, then stopped at my face, apparently turning it into a frozen mask, as I stated my muscles tensed automatically.

'Zhalia?', he repeated suspiciously. 'That Zhalia Moon? You gotta be kidding me', he snarled. 'I won't believe that the Professor's chosen one is such a brat…'

'Watch your tongue, young man', Klaus warned him. 'That 'brat', as you dared to name my precious little charge', Klaus' sudden words of fondness didn't help me regain my senses, and he shocked me even more, adding praises to them, 'got rid of threats more important than you. The Professor highly values her skills.'

'I've heard about them. A lot', Ryder admits, his stare losing a bit of their coldness and gaining a lot of curiosity and… strange, animalistic hunger, igniting sparks deep down his pupils. I had to swallow as I watched them flickering despite the lack of light around; strangely, my mouth watered, as if I had been a Pavlov's dog, though my throat felt extraordinarily sore.

'If that is so, you should understand she would be very useful for you', Klaus kept the persuasion going slyly, inflecting his voice suggestively. 'So, what is your answer?'

The tracker's only response was a heavy curse, quickly garbled by a snog stuffed into his mouth. However, Klaus knew exactly how he should have read that reaction, given its resigned tune. He allowed himself to give out a hoarse chuckle, which didn't help to scare away the tense atmosphere, though.

'Then, maybe we should sit and talk over the details?', he opened his arms, inviting his guest to take a seat and looking me in the eyes piercingly, seeing my body trembling from emotions.

I could only clench my teeth not to yell at the top of my lungs.

15th July 2009, Wednesday, 15:49

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

I twitch when Ryder pokes me. I raise my head and give him a sharp stare, angry that he interrupts my sorrowful isolation. My eyes fall onto a small carton with one white and orange stick rolling left and right. An almost empty box of cigarettes. I could expect that. He's still a chain-smoker.

He reaches the packet to me, giving me an encouraging stare.

'The last one', he shakes the box and the lone snog hits both walls. 'Have a smoke.'

'Stuff that in your ass', I come back to my shell again, mumbling from behind my palms.

'Odd fantasies still on, I see', he comments, sitting next to me; I feel his back touching my hip when he makes himself comfortable, almost knocking me off the rock with his wide ass.

A short crack makes me peek at him between my parted fingers. He stuck the last ciggy between his lips and now opens his inevitable Zippo lighter. So, he still has it. I could never understand that he had to carry it everywhere he went and got so angry forgetting it. It seems new, cleaned to a high-class polish, but I know it's only due to Ryder's strange attachment to that old thing. But that's another story. Enough saying, seeing him without the lighter is as rare as spotting two guys pissing to the contiguous urinals. Even now, he smoothes it with his fingers in a thoughtful way, playing with the shutting. The flame lightens, then goes off. I always get hypnotized by such routine events. Especially when my only dream is zoning out.

'We're both in quite a deep sh*t', Ryder comments, moving the snog to the corner of his mouth. 'The entrance is closed. Finding another exit would take a lot of time, and I'd like to catch the evening flight. My payment depends on it, faster I make it, higher it will be.'

'Oh yeah, tell me about your dreadful troubles', I snarl sardonically, 'right when I'm wondering how to save my life and explain to both Klaus and the Foundation that I lost Vale.'

'He might be still alive', Ryder shrugs, not quite moved. 'I kicked him outta the tunnel before it got destroyed. If he's such a pro, he'd get out with no problem. It'd be quite a view to see, though. The top Huntik operative thrashing in the tunnels like a rat in the labyrinth…', he smirks, chewing the end of his ciggy.

'You think it's funny?!', I yell at him, pushed to the edge of my patience. 'My life depends on it, damn it!'

'Nope', he puts me off inattentively, puffing out a cloud of smoke through his nostrils. 'Your life depends on my orientation only. And so, you don't have to freak out. Remember I'm a tracker, I never get lost.'

His dismissive tone ignites a flame of rage in my guts. What does he think, that I'll fall to his knees and kiss his feet for being so chivalrous and offering me his guidance?! He owes that to me, damn it, however, it's not like I'd really need it. But does he consider such option? Nope. He acts as if he showed me mercy and couldn't imagine I would refuse him! I hate stuck-up men. Even if I used to be very close to them. It doesn't make them immune to my anger, damn it! It even worsens the consequences.

'Oh, thank you, my hero', I crack disdainfully. 'What could I do without you?! Maybe, as a Foundation operative', I accentuate sarcastically, 'I would send the red alert and fill this place with as many agents as station in Ireland.'

Ryder freezes beside me.

'You wouldn't do that', he says in a seemingly relaxed tone, though I still feel his tension. He wouldn't fool me with that casual smoking and stuff.

'Why not?', I shrug, mocking his gesture with the brows. 'I have nothing to lose. If I can't bring Vale back, I'd at least give them a prey to blame…'

Suddenly his cigarette falls onto the ground, still burning. It alarms me and make me jump away when Ryder attempts to immobilize me again. I aim myself with Poisonfang, just in case. I have to go through this talk on my conditions.

'No wrong move', I warn him, underlining my upper position.

'You won't get out without me', he hoarses, lifting himself onto his feet again and panting hard. 'You don't know the tomb. One wrong turn and you'll stay here forever. Even the location spells you learnt from me won't help you.'

'See?', I put one hand on my hip. 'We both have something to offer. It's enough to make a deal as equals, right?', I wave my cell before his eyes. He tries to catch it with Bubblelift, but I hide it in my hand in time, bantering with him on purpose. 'You will get me out the tomb and help me find Vale, and I won't give you out to the Foundation.'

'If you suppose me to run around the grave and look for that wuss…', he lowers his voice in annoyance.

'Exactly', I fake a wide, irritating smile. 'Otherwise the Foundation would accuse you of murdering him. You'll become famous', I rile him, 'maybe the Professor would appoint you a hero after your honorable death for the Organization…'

'You…', Ryder starts, but chews a curse in his mouth, minding the bullet in my hands.

'So?', I tilt my head left, waiting for his answer.

He tries the old trick with throwing me a furious stare to discourage me, but I don't give a damn anymore. I'm not a teenager now, there are a few things that could kick me outta the track. I learnt my ways to achieve my goals no matter what. Thanks to Klaus' treatment, I'm experienced in standing my ground like a hard-boiled gunslinger. And I know when I have to keep calm and not let the others overwhelm me to finally get what I want. It's a method of small steps. Each of them takes you closer to your aspiration.

'Think about it, Ryder', I persuade him, using the argument that would speak to him. 'Any of us won't lose anything. We can both gain.'

He sighs, still crushing the filter of his ciggy with his teeth, confused. I guess I hit the bull's eye – his parsimony.

'F*ck it, babe', he growls finally. 'I hate making deals with you.'

He probably meant to offend me, but it doesn't work; right now, those words sound like the most beautiful music in my ears. I smirk triumphantly, observing him so angry yet unable to withstand me, knowing that I'm right, despite his wishes to find a crack in my plan. He doesn't even protest when I come closer and take the smoldering cigarette from the ground. He just throws me a sharp look, which I ignore haughtily. I press the snog to my mouth meticulously, as a symbol of claiming my victory, and exhale a big cloud of smoke, finding a perverse pleasure in its choky smell.

I wish Klaus could see me now. He'd notice I learnt something from him. After all the times of observing the mechanism of his tricks, I can mimic them perfectly. And I use this ability very often. One can get addicted easily to the superior feeling they give.

13th April 2004, Tuesday, 21:36

Klaus' Library

Vienna

Austria

'Klaus, have you lost it?!', I leaned over the desk when everything that was left from the treasure hunter was a faint odor of his cigarettes. 'What the f*ck was that?!'

'A deal', he responded calmly, lounged cozily in his armchair and very pleased with himself.

'A deal, oh, you don't say!', I ironized, banging my palms against the top. 'You've just sold me to that face-ache! Why on earth didn't you ask me what I think about it?! It's not like the first time, of course', I added scornfully, 'but I thought that maybe you owe something to me after that March mission…'

'You are littering', he remarked chillily.

I threw him a confused look, then peeked at my hands. I hadn't noticed that I had clenched them into fists and tapped them against the desk with so much force that the grayish dirt from the ashtray had gotten spilled around it in a circle.

'That's not the point!', I shouted, my breath spreading the grayish powder even more. 'I'm not going to treat him like the others! If you think that I'd sleep with him to lull him into a false sense of security and then get your money back…'

'Do not worry', he continued in a collected manner. 'You will not have to do anything like that. We will take care of Mr. Ryder… the old-fashioned way.'

He pulled a drawer and brought out a small leather cover. He opened it and showed me its inside, overstuffed with black pads. I furrowed my brow, not sure why Klaus showed me an empty box, but then I noticed a faint glimpse of steel. I took a closer look, directing the lamp's light to the cover. Then I saw then: there were three needles attached to the lining. Their tips had a somewhat purplish tint, like wings and body of a fly.

'They were soaked in a highly toxic substance', Klaus explained, sliding his fingertips through the metal, avoiding the ends, though. 'I called it Stillbreath. I will keep the composition secret, however, I can assure you that one drop would knock off even a draft horse, let alone a grown-up man.'

It took me a while to understand what it meant. And then I exploded.

'Then why the hell didn't you give me that earlier?!', I yelled, pushing the ashtray onto the floor out of fury. 'If I knew, I'd never have to…'

'Stillbreath is not a very suitable truth serum', Klaus interrupted me neutrally. 'The victims are not very talkative once the substance is applied to their veins. They get rather… silent.'

I bit my tongue not to say that that was the only state they should be seen in. I took few deep breaths, trying to drown my anger with them.

'So, won't the Professor be angry if we bump him off like that?', I wondered out loud. 'That Ryder guy threatened us as if he was a big thing.'

'A big thing!', Klaus chuckled, patting his knee. 'Oh no, my dear, he is just a mere nobody. No more than an errand boy. The Professor will not even notice his disappearance. Even if so, he values me… and you', he nodded to me flatteringly, 'too much to pay attention to that little… quirk.'

He drew the needle from the holster and handed it to me.

'Just one. Keep an eye on it', he warned me. 'You will not have a second chance to eliminate him.'

I raised the gift to the faint light of the only lamp. It was no longer than my little finger; easy to hide in the sleeve, insignificant, yet powerful enough to knock off an adult guy with one shot. Just like me.

'I won't need it', I convinced Klaus, observing the needle's glow with fascination. 'Certainly.'

15th July 2009, Wednesday, 15:57

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

I smoke the ciggy as fast as I can, at the same time trying not to look in a hurry. I don't want Ryder to notice how much I want to go searching for the others right now, yet I shouldn't put the bantering with him over finding Dante… and Scarlet, though not necessarily. I feel torn apart between those two urges and even the snog doesn't help me ease that tension. Damn, sometimes my acting goes too far. I hope Ryder would be the first one to turn up the tempo, as he is worried of his payment. However, he seems to be taking his revenge, suddenly losing interest in me. He turns around and crouches to the sack he dropped before.

'So', I say with overdone friendliness (f*ck, it's so hard to address him in such a voice, given everything he's done to me, but no choice…), looking at his hunched back, 'as we're going to be partners, maybe it's a good time to complete our knowledge about each other. After all, we haven't seen each other in three years.'

'It's not me who disappeared without a sign', he grumbles, lifting the sack from the ground.

'Why are you here?', I ask him directly, ignoring that comment. I'd rather not dwell into the reasons of my departure; he knows the basics already, that's enough.

'Constructing a new Challenger, isn't that obvious?', he ironizes, not even looking at me, but I know for sure he wonders if he should have continued the talk or ignore me for the rest of the time spent together due to his pride. After all, he's not used to being bossed around nor questioned by a woman. Born a sexist and not corrected until now (and he's already 28!), he sees every female as a brainless object created only to entertain men and fulfill their needs. However, he knows that his beliefs fail him in my presence. I proved many times that when it comes to independence, decisiveness and perseverance, I could easily compete with the most manly man. When he peeks at me, I still glare at him expectantly. He rolls his eyes and then reaches for something to the floor.

'See those?', he tosses an item in his hand; in the dimness, it resembles a metal cup embodied with intricate ornaments. More findings surround Ryder's combat boots in a puddle of golden gleam. 'I have to deliver them to the Organization. They will take care of the rest.'

He collects the goods from the floor neglectfully, in a hurry, but it's enough of time to let me take a closer look at the loot. Most of the pieces resemble ritual implements, tools, utensils, in a nutshell, all the stuff usually put in the graves by the ancient tribes as gifts for the dead ones for 'the last journey'.

'Why do they need it for?', I investigate, not sure if I really need that info; I just want to keep the conversation going.

'Dunno', he shrugs, tying the ropes and flinging the bag over his shoulder. 'Not my business. It's probably another order from one of those fanatic collectors. They pay every price to have something the others don't. Poor fags', he spits at the ground, then turns around and sinks into one of the corridors.

'Yet you still work for them', I mock him, throwing the butt onto the ground and crushing it with my heel. 'Doesn't it make you a fag as well? Like, an errand boy?', I catch up with him, following the clatter of the goods in his sack rather than relying on my sight, as everything is drown in the darkness.

'Nope', he chuckles, not very moved by my remark, making his way forward as if he knew perfectly where to go. 'I don't work for them, just for their money. That's quite a difference. And I prefer calling me a highly trained tracker.'

I snarl. The same old Ryder. Seeking every excuse to justify his greed and thinking he's cunning.

'And, who's the one talking, by the way?', he peeks at me. 'Are you still a special something, high above the others? Yet chasing every prey Klaus points you at like a faithful bitch on his leash?', he gives me a taste of my own medicine.

'Don't push the point', I warn him. 'Mind what you're talking about. It is a mission from the Professor himself, a special task which can turn the tables in advantage of the Organization.'

'Yet it doesn't change the goal', he shrugs, making the items clank out loud; he freezes for a moment, listening out, but I don't think he'd attract anyone's attention. The hosts doesn't seem to mind loud passers-by, kheh. 'Chasing after some pussy, playing hares and hounds like brats… What an idea? It sounds troublesome, dragging and unexciting, like a boring theatre play.'

'Quite a good description', I admit gloomily. 'A diva like me shouldn't bother herself with such a pitiful spectacle, especially surrounded by such low-class actors…'

'Yeah, that's another point', he remarks. 'Why only that coochy is your target? As far as I know, you're travelling with the Lambert's brat and a Casterwill girl.'

'Don't remind me', I mutter. 'I'd love to blow Sophie's fiery nut away… But she and the wimp aren't a threat. I always wonder how the hell Lok managed to reach the age of fifteen if he'd be able to kill himself stepping on a rake.'

Ryder lets out a short chuckle.

'Well, that explains much. But damn, why do they piss their pants about that Vale guy?', Ryder wonders. 'He didn't seem any better. Is he really that dangerous?', he asks me, waiting for my opinion.

I fall silent for a moment, surprised by his question. Is Dante dangerous?

My answer varies. Few weeks before, I'd vote no for sure. Since I found his old photo in the database, I knew he couldn't be called a cruel brute exactly. I don't know, maybe I took him lightly 'cause he looked like such a damn softie then, probably just out of some university, with smooth face, no beard, his hair shorter yet as messy and a small smile playing somewhere on his lips though the rest of his face tried to keep serious…

My thoughts didn't verify much after I happened to know him better. I saw that he can kick asses and whack somebody's mug if needed, but… His fighting mode and everyday attitude are so distant! It's almost impossible to relate a panther-like swiftness, dexterity and accuracy with calm, collected and joyful demeanor he expresses casually. It's just as if I was watching two different people, the combative one – a complete stranger, an action hero from a TV series.

As I spend with him also the time between various important tasks and spectacular fights, when he is so concentrated and immersed in the jobs, I focus mostly on the self he shows to his friends and allies during the off-duty hours. I tend to forget that he's the Foundation number one Seeker as I learn more about his weaknesses and flaws. I pay so much attention to his lame duster and creepy greenish sunglasses, his blunders and mistakes, the way he clears his throat in embarrassment and furrows his brow when he's preoccupied - all those small signs of him being a normal, quite a hopeless male case - that I probably can't be scared of him at all. I've never really thought about the reasons. Maybe because I have never faced him as an enemy? That I feel immune knowing he treats me like a teammate and won't turn his abilities against me?

However, I observed many times how people react to his sudden demonstrations of power. I remember clearly that time when he captured DeFoe, brought him to his minions like a rag doll and forced them all to retreat on the Argo. There was something in his posture, voice and stare that made everyone take him very seriously and step back from this lone operative, as if he was surrounded by a force field ripping the bruisers off their strength and confidence. Even I felt the strike coming out him like an electricity shooting through all of us. It wasn't the kind of supremacy the Professor emits, intimidating, overwhelming and paralyzing. It was something… deeper… more complex than simple fear. More like… authority?

I guess I didn't give it a second thought 'cause I've never found Dante scary myself. I probably should… After all, I'm one of them, his enemies, even if he doesn't know this. But strangely, I don't expect him to cause any problem for me. Of course I don't see him as a person accosted as easy target by street robbers, even at night – they'd have to lack some screws if they dared to attack such a tall, well-built and muscular lad – but he's also not the one who would frighten me in a dark alley. Not with that sane, serene attitude of his and his strong need to protect everyone rather than hurt them. He creates a strange aura of safety and support around him. Yet he's not only a severe sentinel fulfilling a hard mission of guarding humanity, just a good-humored, caring guy arising friendly feelings and admiration, with a pleasant smile and… that special spark in his bright, emphatic eyes. Both gentle, yet confident and stern. Like a fire which can either warm or burn to ashes.

How can I explain all those aspects to Ryder, who thinks that a real strong man has to be all muscles, eats just steaks for every dinner, drinks beer every evening and treats everybody around like a scum?

'Don't underestimate him', I advise him, trying to get to him the way he'd understand. 'You know, he beat DeFoe…'

'DeFoe was not a hard player, though', Ryder chuckles again, very amused of my argument, as if it only proved his beliefs. I am about to start a clash, but something else than Ryder's disregard catches my attention.

'Was?', I raise my eyebrows. 'What do you mean by: 'was'?'

'Don't you know?', he peeks at me. 'He was found dead in his laboratory. Smothered. Strangely, Grier disappeared the same day…', he adds meaningfully. 'The Suits are searching for him, but seems he sunk underground. No trace.'

Oh, yeah. I lower my eyes not to let him notice a change in my eyes. I know where their target could be. But I agreed with Dante to keep it secret… What should I do? I guess I wouldn't harm anyone if I spilled the beans. The Professor would wipe the traitor off existence thanks to my help, what would raise my status even more… Dante also shouldn't mind having Grier eliminated. After all, the goon is his enemy, right? However…

'What's up?', Ryder breaks my desperate mind battle. 'Feeling pity for the poor old DeFoe?'

'No kidding', I shake my head. 'I doubt anyone misses that crazy fag. They should rather honor Grier with a badge or something for getting rid of that pebble.'

'This Vale guy didn't manage to do so', Ryder remarks, nodding. 'Seems like his fame is exaggerated, after all. I bet I'd win over him with ease.'

'Don't underestimate him', I murmur, a bit uneasy with the sudden change of the topic. 'You could be surprised.'

Ryder falls silent, shrugging, yet his face tells exactly that he thinks just like that and isn't going to take it back, just doesn't want to lower himself to the brain level of a creature with vagina and a small brain which gets impressed by mere tricks. He searches any way to take a small revenge on me. He has his reasons. I guess that since we met, my free-spirited feministic ideas had been quite a pain in the ass for a men chauvinist like him. But I don't regret it. He deserved that.

15th April 2004, 12:54

Flughafen Wien Airport

Vienna

Austria

'Here he is', Klaus gritted his teeth, looking through the smoked car windows and seeing Ryder waiting for me on the airport; of course, with a cigarette stuck to his mouth. 'Filthy robber!'

'Don't panic, I'll get the money back', I assured Klaus, sitting next to him and collecting my things in preparation to leave, though I didn't really have a fancy to do so.

'Just wait until he gets the ordered goods. I do not want to pay twice for the same thing', he reminded me sharply.

'Have I ever failed you?', I asked him, trying to calm him down… and (I would never admit that then) to hear a kind word before my departure.

The man gave me a strict look.

'Well, there were a few occasions', the man accentuated, his chapped lips pursed. 'Better do not disappoint me this time.'

I swallowed the letdown and left the car with only an inarticulate goodbye. I doubted he had answered me, though I felt his glare on my back when I was approaching Ryder, flinging my backpack over my shoulder. I winced when I finally stood close enough for the cloud of smoke to reach me. Ryder did the same, noticing me. It didn't help his face. He looked as ugly as two days before and the spring sun only accentuated every flaw of his appearance, especially the ironic grimace playing on his lips.

'Six minutes before the meeting hour, sur-f*cking-prise!', he exclaimed without any greeting, even residual. 'My thanks, I expected a longer wait. And only one bag!', he peeked at my back (and took advantage on the moment to slide his eyes down where my spine ended, huh). 'I was worried the plane wouldn't manage to set off with your luggage in the hold.'

'Very funny', I gave him a heavy stare. 'I guess that your knowledge about women comes from cheesy jokes and lame sitcoms.'

'And all the descriptions fit you perfectly', he cut back. 'You're a typical TV drama teenage sulker with badly-written lines which were supposed to be funny. But don't worry, you make up for them with your pretty face, babe', he added negligently.

'I recommend you not to repeat that', I warned him. 'I don't care what you think about me, but I won't stand treating me like a make-weight to your imagined awesomeness. I'm not here as a decoration, I'm just gonna do my job. And quick', I accentuated strongly.

'I prefer quickies too', he gave me a meaningful glare and moved his brows, then fixed his backpack and headed to the check-in.

'Your hand must be skilled, then', I murmured under my breath, not really thinking he'd hear that. But he did. He threw me a sharp stare.

'What?', I shrugged. 'No normal woman would agree to go to bed with you.'

'Every woman is easy when you have enough money', he said with certainty.

'…said a man buying a rubber doll', I completed the sentence mockingly.

His expression – dropped jaw, widened eyes and unintelligent gaze - was priceless. I felt a tingle of pride in my stomach. I flung my backpack onto my shoulder and started to whistle out of satisfaction, walking through the airport more energetically. Seemed that trip could be a fun after all.

The same day, 23:49

Yeovil

Somerset County

England

The United Kingdom

'Damn those airlines', Ryder exhaled, lounging on the chair and sliding down until his ass barely kept its seat. 'Three delayed flights, the whole day gone to waste…'

And he was the one talking! I was the one sentenced to listening to his nagging, observing him fidgeting with the lighter and forced to be a victim of his raising anger, as if I was the one to blame for all the troubles. I knew sailors believed women to bring misfortune, but I wouldn't accept stupid d*cks pushing all the responsibility to my sex. Luckily, my period was far behind me and my patience had its ups, otherwise I'd be arrested for murdering Ryder in the broad daylight.

I passed by his backpack thrown in the center of the room, omitting it like something disgusting in kind of a mouse corpse, and put my luggage under the wall. Then I drew my toilet utensils out and headed to the bathroom, but I froze on the doorstep. Ouch. I decided to skip the shower. I didn't want to come back home with fungal infection after entering that neglected cabin. I even took my hand off the door handle with repulsion, closing the door with a kick. I sat at the bed, feeling strange and dirty. I hated the missions forcing me to abandon basic sanitation. I couldn't avoid the difficulties completely when I was, for example, in the deserts of Saudi Arabia, but being ripped off a bath in England?! It seemed ridiculous. Ryder didn't seem to have problems with that, though. He peeked at me, keeping untying his shoes. Sitting on the bed. ON MY BED. Oh wait. On OURS. There wasn't a second one.

'You could tell me it'd be a survival camp', I barked at him. 'A stinky toilet, an only bed… What is that supposed to mean?!'

'Sorry, princess', he smirked, kicking the bovver boots off his feet. 'I told your old man that I only work alone. I'm not gonna change my economical ways for an additional passenger. I don't have money for your fancies.'

Well, I guess Klaus hadn't bothered to negotiate some exemptions from that rule. I snarled, jerking my head up pridefully.

'Not my problem anyway. It's not me who'd sleep on the floor.'

'Me neither', he answered with a mean spark in his eyes. 'Don't mistake me with a gentleman.'

It took me a moment before I understood what he meant.

'Oh no', I pointed my index finger at him. 'If you think that it'll discourage me and send me back home, you're terribly mistaken. I'm not here to relax. It's my job.'

I threw my blouse off my upper body, staying only in my plain top. I wondered if it'd be a good idea to take my trousers off; I decided to keep them on. Then I slid under the quilt, expecting the night to be rather chilly. And to separate myself from Ryder completely, showing him my back.

He let out a short, hoarse chuckle, not taking his eyes off me as I made myself comfortable.

'See?', he muttered with amusement. 'Women do enter my bed willingly.'

'Of course, if you always scrimp on twin rooms', I cut back.

He fell silent for a moment. I felt the mattress undulating as he moved on it.

'Damn, don't be such a high muckamuck', he muttered, approaching me. 'You're quite a cool girl, why ruining it with such fads?'

I ignored him, curling on the sheets and staring at the dark sky, barely visible through the stained windowpanes.

'You know', he murmured in quite a different tone, turning left and leaning over me, 'we both could relax a bit.'

'I try', I growled at him, 'but you keep yapping.'

'I meant…', he cleared his throat, and it happened surprisingly close to my ear, 'together.'

At first, I couldn't believe that I felt his touch on my belly. I froze, thinking it was just my imagination or that it was just the edge of the quilt smoothing my navel. But then I felt his hand raising my top and climbing up to my breasts. Just like that. As if it was normal and natural. As if I was his property.

It was not that I hadn't expected that. I had been a victim of such advances since I grew boobs and got an hourglass-like figure. But… it had never gone far, cut before it had really started. However, then it had been right after that night in March when I could do nothing but accept everything that happened to me like a mute, disabled, supine, helpless. I didn't want to feel like that ever again.

I caught his hand halfway.

'Take it off', I demanded coldly, 'or I'll make you.'

I would never forget his reaction.

He smiled widely and then laughed out loud, not going to do anything with his hand on my belly – apart from pawing me without restraint.

'Hell, girl', he said confidently. 'Just put those games aside. Do you think I don't know why your old man chose you to accompany me instead of one of his minions? Everyone knows what 'skills' make you so famous. I'd have never agreed to take you if I didn't expect some… benefits from that. You don't have to play so hard-to-get…'

Ryder didn't end the sentence; it got drowned by a piercing hiss when I jerked up, caught his thumb and twisted it hard.

'Don't you dare repeating that', I warned him, turning to him and screwing his arm even more powerfully, pressing it to his back and then pushing his head to the mattress. 'If you do, I promise you'll have a chance to walk in women's shoes. I'll turn you into a lady faster than your cock gets stiff', I added, hearing his bones cracking loudly. I had to control myself not to break it; he'd need it during the search. However, I knew how to make someone suffer without causing serious, lasting damage – Klaus', a human anatomy expert, school. 'I don't give a damn what you expected from me, but I'm not here to let you have fun on lonely nights. Understood?'

He couldn't answer as pain was contorting his face in a grimace and the bedding kept him throttling. I loosened my grip a bit, but not enough to let him slip away.

'Now, say it', I demanded firmly. 'Say that you will keep your hands close to your own butt only. And don't try to force your way on me or I'll chop your arm off to the shoulder.'

'Damn you', he uttered, getting yellowish from pain. 'You're a fricking virgin or what?'

I chuckled bitterly, letting go off him. He couldn't have taken a worse aim.

'Oh yeah', I looked right into his eyes as he tried to get a grip on himself, panting hard. 'As if it was an only excuse.'

We sized each other up for a long, dragging moment. I tensed, expecting him not to accept the refusal so obediently, as his eyes flashed as if he had dreamt only of gouging mine out.

However, he just let out a loud breath and fell onto the mattress, still massaging his knuckles.

'I think somebody should give you a right spanking and make you unwind a bit', he judged, examining his hand, clenching and loosening for maybe a minute, then, as he judged everything was alright, placing both arms under his head. 'But your choice. Keep selling tickets to enter your pussy of gold', he murmured, staring at the ceiling. I kept an eye of him, suspecting him of some nasty trick hidden in the sleeve, but he just bent his legs and froze, apparently finding a right position. I hesitated for a moment if I should have trusted his passive response, then lowered my head to the pillow, but still couldn't believe he had given up so quickly. I wasn't mistaken. There was a reason.

'Maybe someday', he said vainly after five minutes when I started to think he had really fallen asleep, 'I'd be able to afford the access.'

'I wouldn't screw with a minger like you even if they paid me a million!', I burst out, showing my teeth like a wild cat, ready to bite, scratch and tear apart if he had tried to come any closer.

He just raised his brow doubtfully, quite oblivious to the reasons of my anger. I had to calm down not to gnaw at his throat. I quickly reminded myself of the needle hidden in my clothes.

Just few days more.

15th July 2009, Wednesday, 16:47

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

'This way', Scarlet whispered vehemently, marching through another empty corridor. 'This is the right place, there's no doubt.'

Dante just nodded automatically. It was already the fifth time Byrne said so. He started to get used to such assurances, but he couldn't say anything not to rip Scarlet off the hope that pushed her through.

However, when the tunnel mouth they entered ended with a plain, smooth slab, he didn't have to voice the obvious conclusion. She understood it herself. She gave out a choked shout and pressed her fingers to the stone, pushing it hardly and banging into it as if she couldn't believe it was material and touchable; as if she expected it to be an illusion created only to trick her rational thinking. However, the rock was too stable and unmovable to be just a fake vision.

'That's impossible', she uttered. 'That's just… I… I have no clue… I was sure that…'

Then her just-recovered attitude, already with weak fundaments, completely cracked. She cried out and fell down like a cut flower; she slid down the wall, curling into a small, trembling bundle. She hid her face in her hands, her voice was drowned with tears bubbling in her throat. She sobbed, wiping off her nose.

'I can't do that', she shook her head desperately, then pressed her forehead to her knees. 'I… tried… but… I'm sorry, I don't know where to go… It seemed so simple on the map, but…'

Dante didn't say anything; he couldn't force himself to repeat over again sentences like 'Don't worry', 'Everyone can make mistakes', 'Just try one more time'… Those pretty lies just couldn't go through his throat for like a millionth time ; they weren't spells, they wouldn't change the reality. Both of them knew the truth which didn't need to be spoken: They were screwed.

Vale also sank onto the ground, tilting his head back and furrowing his brow in hope it could ease the pain in his temples. It didn't work, so he leaned forward, placing both hands on his knees and breathing slowly which was supposed to help him collect his thoughts. However, there was nothing to collect; his mind seemed empty, washed out of every notion by a dull feeling of exhaustion, both emotional and physical. He hated that unusual state which caught him only when certain reasons occurred. He could stand much, but he had lost a comrade… no, that was unbearable…

He hid his face in both hands. He wished Zhalia was there, blaming them for all the commotion, venting her anger at Scarlet, throwing her bitter 'I told you so earlier', proving her superiority and cleverness, making cutting remarks about her perceiving things further than an experienced investigator… but instead, he didn't even know if she was alive. She could as well need help. Maybe she was suffering alone, numb, unable to move forward, lost in the darkness; perhaps right behind the wall, yet he couldn't reach her…

He clenched his teeth so tightly that he feared they'd fall out their places. That f*cking uncertainty which only gave him false hope and lengthened his suffering! No, he wouldn't surrender to it. He had to find Zhalia no matter what. He would give up only if he discovered a proof that there was no chance for her to survive. He hadn't, so he wasn't going just to sit there and lament over something which hadn't been certified! She could be alright. She wasn't a type of person who would just lie and wait for death to come not seeing any obvious way out. She was used to working alone and counting only on her abilities… She'd rather push through, with anger, ferocity and perseverance, like she always did. She'd even wake up the dead and annoy them to the point that they'd throw her away their house themselves rather than let herself join them.

He got up; Scarlet looked at him with wet eyes.

'Stand up', he said firmly. 'We're not gonna rot here.'

'What can we do?', she mumbled. 'We got lost. The map is not actual anymore, as the cave-in buried most of the tunnels.'

'There's always a way out', he said strictly, taking her hand and pulling her up. 'Sometimes it just takes a while to find it. Maybe we're close. I'm not resign if we might be just a meter away from the exit. Let's go', he encouraged her.

She stood up obediently and followed him as he returned to the chamber with seven corridors. They had already checked five, so… there were two left. He came into the sixth one and crossed it quickly, despite his body protesting against any effort and urging him to stop fighting against all odds. He ignored it; his organism didn't lead his actions, it was just a tool to achieve his goals and he could steer it the way he wanted, not the other way round. He had to be strong enough to share his power with Scarlet. His will seemed to be an only source of energy that kept her going. If she noticed he started to shake, she would never force herself to act. Sometimes being somebody's idol, even involuntarily, had its pluses.

He crossed most of the distance in cautious steps, however, he hurried up seeing an oval place which suddenly ended in an angular, untidy wall. It didn't resemble the rest of the stones; the carvings didn't create any particular ornament, just looked like messed puzzles in which the shapes didn't fit each other. Dante's face brightened when he understood that they got to the other side of the rubble created by the explosion. If Zhalia got separated from them, she landed there for sure!

He let go off Scarlet, thought she tried to keep his hand in her pincer-like grip, and started to look for any traces of Zhalia's presence. Much to his relief, there weren't any drops of blood around, which meant that either operative Moon shielded herself with Armorbrand or found a natural shelter. However, she had certainly left it some time ago and went who knew where. What if they passed each other by? That would be a nasty joke from fate…

However, it wouldn't be unnatural for fate to play with him a dirty game and giving him disturbing clues. For example, those burnt markings embodied with grime didn't resemble holes left by the falling stones, rather fire bullets… But why? Zhalia wasn't a person who would lose control over her spells and, for example, let Raypulse fly around the cavern like a rubber ball bouncing against the walls. Suddenly Dante knelt down so abruptly that he hit his knees painfully; massaging them, he lifted a small yellowish pipe from the ground, right next to a large boulder.

'We might not be alone', he whispered piercingly to his comrade, showing her his finding. It probably looked like a tube before, but now, crushed and dirtied by gray ash, resembled a flat strip rather.

'What's that?', Scarlet seemed way more puzzled than understandable.

'A cigarette stub', Dante explained, a bit irritated as the answer seemed obvious to him.

'But how?', she asked him, still clueless. 'How did it get there?'

Dante put all the effort not to roll his eyes with impatience. Any of them didn't smoke, he also didn't expect the inhabitants to be addicted, so there was only one believable answer he could think of.

'He, that Organization goon', Vale added to make things clear, 'was there as well.'

There, with Zhalia!, his brain screamed.

His blood froze in his veins for a moment, then started to pump twice faster, especially flowing through his temples and causing a throbbing pressure on his nerves.

No blood, he reminded himself. There is no blood.

Bruises can be as painful as bleeding injuries, his subconciousness mocked him cruelly, even if they don't leave traces on the surroundings.

Dante took a deep breath and jerked up, then threw the butt away with disgust. He snapped his fingers, making Scarlet twitch with fear, but she calmed down a bit when she saw that he had only created a spark to ignite the butt.

If he did something to Zhalia, Dante thought furiously, observing how the cigarette end fell apart and turned into ashes, I promise that bastard will end up just like this stub. No one hurts my comrades. No one.

He felt new strength arising in his cells as he made such decision. He swept the floor with his duster as he headed into one of the halls, not looking back.

'Where're you going?!', Byrne asked, pressing both hands to her chest and knitting her eyebrows in fright.

'Follow me', he ordered Scarlet, surprised by his own indomitable tone. 'I will find the way out for all of us, even if I will have to bite through the stones or dig another passage!'

Byrne stared in the darkness, afraid of the dangers that might be hidden there, but she didn't want to be left behind either. She caught up with him soon. He threw her a short stare and nodded, approving of her decision.

'Stay close', he advised her.

She took advantage of that proposition and plastered to him, catching him by the elbow. Dante winced a bit; he didn't mean being THAT close. He wanted to shake her hands off, but as he moved it, she just tightened the grip. He gritted his teeth quietly; good thing she couldn't see his face right then. Dante felt like a cripple when he had to pull that unnecessary load. However, if there wasn't any other way to keeping moving forward… He wondered if he should have told her to loosen the grip, as it was restraining him a little, which could make counterattack inconvenient if there would be such a necessity. And he felt it would. He had waited for it the whole time. He couldn't believe the Organization goon would give up so easily an opportunity to gain some fame by eliminating two Huntik operatives. If he had been so willing to cause an explosion, who knows what lengths he was able to cross to achieve his twisted goals?

However, he wasn't afraid of the raider's aspirations. He even looked forward to their meeting. He would force him to drop everything he had stolen from the tomb and give him out to the Foundation… Additionally, if he did something to Zhalia, he'd first have to go through Dante's program of redeeming his crimes. And then spend some time in the hospital before getting jailed for the rest of his life.

Dante stretched his shoulders a bit, fighting with the adrenaline awakening in his body by those appealing thoughts. Then he focused on the path, determined to cross it even if he was forced to crawl the whole way.

He reminded himself he had to keep cool if he wanted to succeed. Fulfilling his primitive instincts wasn't the most important matter now. He couldn't say that imagining the persecutor who separated them from Zhalia locked or taking a walk only on a prison yard wasn't pleasant, however, there would be time for administering justice. For sure.

15th July 2009, Wednesday, 17:20

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

As we descend into the lower parts of the tomb, I keep having a strange feeling that I hurried up with counting on Ryder's infallible sense of direction. We've been weaving our way through the maze like two blind mice for – as I checked on the phone - almost two hours, and still didn't make any notable progress. I wonder if I should act like Donkey in Shrek 2 and ask Ryder 'Are we there yet?' every five minutes to make him finally inform me why it is taking so long. And maybe discover if he needs a hand. I may not be as proficient as him in location spells, but I've got something he doesn't: a woman's intuition.

I laughed noiselessly to myself. Yeah. Ryder asking for help out of his own free will. And choosing a woman as his support. Of course. Just after I'll undergo a sex change operation and get asked out by Ricky Martin. Ryder's not that type of guy. He'd rather cling to every plan he invented himself, even if it doesn't make any sense right from the start, than admit something is beyond his reach or abilities.

18th April 2004, 12:11

Cadbury Castle

Somerset County

England

The United Kindgom

'Only a day left', I reminded Ryder, observing the hill fort's interior with boredom and crossing my arms on my chest. 'Only a day and Klaus wouldn't pay you one red cent.'

'Turn yourself down or I will do that, damn it', he mumbled, not even looking at me, just examining the Gobelin tapestry. 'I'm already fed up with you. All you do is snapping your mouth and clenching to me like a flea. I didn't insist on you to go', he shrugs. 'Blame your old man instead.'

'He's the one settling the conditions', I mocked him. 'So better don't mess up with me or you won't see even a penny when I tell on you.'

'Oh yeah, a born tattletale', he snarled, throwing me a disapproving stare. 'Geez, why did I agree to take you?'

'Maybe 'cause you expected me to warm your bed', I smirked to him, 'taking me for an easy bimbo? I hoped that my little… rap on the knuckles talked you out of such outlooks', I sighed. 'What a shame. Seems you still want to have your arm broken', I underlined, reminding him of our first night together.

'Shut the f*ck up, I'm trying to concentrate', he growled, furrowing his brow and losing half of his pep. The lesson I had given him worked. He hadn't done more than telling dirty jokes since then. I guessed he had tried to make up for the shame I had caused him by treating me like a silly prune, but I just waved it off, not moved by that efforts to regain his male pride. I also started to feel more confident around him, not paying attention to his overwhelming detest for women's self-appraisal.

'And it doesn't lead to anything', I shrugged, throwing him a superior stare. 'We're just wandering around the whole England for four days, rummaging through stinky tombs, musty underground labyrinths and ruined chambers, sticking our noses in every hole and not achieving anything.'

'It's not so easy to find the real Camlann', he explained, gritting his teeth when he tried to move one of the stones, in case it could have opened a secret passage. 'There are many places thought to be the location of King Arthur's final battle', he stuck his tongue out, struggling with the brick. 'At least my informers told me so. I'm checking every possibility.'

'However, it drags a lot. I guess that your gray matter isn't used to such a hard work', I smirked meanly. 'Need help?'

'Sorry, babe, but brains don't seem to be your main asset neither', he cut back. 'I'll call you if I'd need a pretty ass.'

'Your choice, but you'll regret it soon. Your time is running out… Tick-tock, tick-tock', I bantered with him, moving my finger left and right like a clock hand. However, he shot me a stare that warned me that if I went further, he'd crack my skull like a walnut, as he regarded it the least useful part of my body. I winced, but when he turned back, I poked my tongue at him. Then, I took a seat in a nook in the wall, as I expected the search to drag. I made myself comfortable, whistling tunelessly just to annoy him. He winced, but didn't say a word of reproof, pretending not to hear the spurious melody. However, louder I whistled, more chaotic his searching was getting. He circled around the room, looking for any hint where to find the entrance to the lower area, but finally, he just leaned both hands on the wall and lowered his head.

'Aren't you really gonna give me a hand if I don't beg you?', he asked pressingly.

I blinked innocently, fluttering my lashes like a clueless dolly bird.

'Me?', I said with exaggerated surprise. 'A hand? No, no way! After all, only my ass is useful enough, isn't it? Call me if you'd need it', I mocked him, flashing my eyes meanly.

He snarled, giving me a sharp stare, but seemed confused by my response. He hadn't expected me to refuse him, had he? Well, he had been mistaken for the second time already. Guess he had always achieved everything too easily. Sorry, goofball, not everything appertained you.

'Alright', he straightened up and approached me. 'Come on. We're leaving.'

'What're you doing?!', I barked as he pulled me by the arm to the main hall.

'If we can't find a secret entrance', he said, coming down the stairs to the basement level, 'we're gonna make one.'

I felt the troubles coming the moment he drew out a payload.

Wait… I hope he's not going to repeat the scheme ONCE AGAIN.

'Ryder', I address him, 'do you know where to find the other exit?'

He peeks at me, surprised that I'm not sulking and speak up first.

'Why all of the sudden?', he turns back, remembering that he has to watch the way. 'Afraid you made the deal too fast without checking my skills, scaredy-cat? Geez, you're getting more and more like your old man.'

'Nope', I murmur, a bit resentful; how can he compare me to a homely geezer like Klaus? 'I just don't want you to do something stupid and make this scaredy-cat save the day again, like… like in England.'

'But you like me too much not to trust me, don't you?', he banters with me, I hear clearly that special timbre in his voice which he has used since we met. However, I'm not a teenager anymore and I want him to notice that, just as much as I did before. Though fuelled by more serious reasons.

'Don't flatter yourself!', I mumble, observing his wide back. 'It's a fifty-fifty deal, isn't it? I'm not giving you out to the Foundation, you're getting me out the tomb. A fair trade. I have no reasons to doubt your rationality', my tongue gallops pell-mell, I'm unable to stop it even if I try to, hearing that my excuses start to sound too far-fetched. 'If you won't fulfill your conditions, I won't feel obliged to keep you covered anymore…'

'As you like it', he interrupts that blether finally, shrugging and still smiling meanly.

He peeks at me meaningfully and I can't resist his stare. I lower it at my feet, pretending that I'm just cautious not to trip over. What does he think, that he'll play those dirty games with me again? I know him too well to be impressed by his cheap shots at women. Especially knowing what happens next, when he shows them his hand.

Suddenly I bump into Ryder's back, hitting my nose against his jersey. I rub it, humming angrily, not very satisfied by that unexpected contact. I'd rather stay as far from him as I can.

'What's up?', I ask him sharply.

'A dead end', he murmurs, observing the walls. 'Hell, how come?'

'Bravo, genius', I mumble, though it doesn't sound quite as mean as I intended 'cause I find my thoughts stuck on the impression that his jersey still smells of the same deodorant, a bit shaded by the scent of his sweat. Which doesn't mean it stinks, though… at least not for me.

'I was there before, there must be an exit', he shakes his head, examining the cave. 'See? There's a hole up there', he comes up some stones and shows me a slit in the pile. 'Probably the rubble covered the tunnel mouth.'

'Then we'll just have to clean it', I shrug. 'I have my slaves for such jobs.'

I rummage through my sack and finally feel the curved spikes under my fingers. I draw the amulet out; the mat surface reflects my face faintly. Ryder notices the talisman in my grip and his face lightens up suddenly as reaches his open hand. I gap a bit realizing that he shows me an identical gem, like a mirror image – the spikes, the shape, everything fitting perfectly.

'So, you still have it, huh?', he murmurs, raising his stare at me and looking directly into my eyes for the first time since we met again. I have a chance to notice that unusual fulvous edge adorning his plainest rust-brown irises. There's a spark igniting them to a flame-like color… which warms the pit of my stomach in a manner that alarms me.

He sends me that famous half-smirk of his; not the one full of irony and scorn, but more amused, lightening his face and completely changing its expression. I suddenly find myself speechless. I just move my mouth like a fish drawn out the water, feeling warmth coming up my cheeks. And, uh… thighs. I shake that feeling off, ashamed by my stupid thoughts that this smirk makes him almost handsome. Almost is quite a big difference, after all…

'Just like the old days', he comments in a voice even more raspy than usual.

I know that we recalled exactly the same memory.

18th April 2004, Saturday, 12:42

Cadbury Castle

Somerset County

England

The UK

'WHO THE HELL TOLD YOU', I yelled, scorching through the tunnel, 'THAT DETONATING A BOMB WOULD SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS?!'

'The merchant I bought the device from', he choked out, running beside me in heavy leaps, 'he said those are completely safe in usage…'

'SAFE IN USAGE, DAMN IT!', I chuckled like crazy, feeling my lungs burning. I guess a half of that fire was leaving my body with all the words I screamed out. 'YOU TURNED THE CHAMBER INTO F*CKING RUINS, ALMOST KILLING US!'

'Don't exaggerate it, the hole turned out quite neat…', he defended himself.

'TELL IT THOSE CRAZY BLACK KNIGHTS CHASING US SINCE WE WOKE THEM UP!'

I pointed at the two Titans following us since we had interrupted their stillness by blowing their nest away. Ryder peeked above his shoulder, measuring the bodies hidden under spiky dark armors, with strange pieces resembling spider's legs protruding on their shoulders and surrounding their helmets. The curved blades, raised above their heads, flashed in the Boltflare's light, guiding us through the halls; the golden dragons on their shields looked way too realistic in that scenery.

'Think they're immune to being buried under the ceiling?', he asked me, his voice accompanied by a thud of his combat boots and a scrabble of Ratatoskr's claws; the Titan fore-reached us and was checking every tunnel not to let us mindlessly run into a dead end.

'DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT DOING IT AGAIN, BASTARD!', I cried out, not sure if wasting my breath was the best option yet feeling a desperate urge to let off some steam.

'Shut up and run, then!', he chided me, pulling me by the elbow. 'I see the light at the end of the corridor!'

'BRILLIANT!', I mocked him. 'DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT MEANS IN MOST CULTURES?!'

'YOU DON'T HAVE TO FOLLOW, DAMN IT!', he hoarsed, panting hardly. Listening to his breath resembling a whizz of the steam engine, I realized that he tired even more than me, and blessed the fact that I smoked once in a blue moon.

We dashed through the arch, where the weasel waited for us, and immediately shut the door; Ryder supported them, bracing himself against the ground, and then I barred them, though lifting a heavy log took some effort.

'They'll break through in no time', Ryder rasped, bend in half and coughing.

'You don't say!', I growled, my heart jumping like crazy from adrenaline. 'I have enough of technical knowledge to know that steel swords can cut the wooden doors with ease!'

'Better help me', he pulled himself together and pushed a metal chest to the entrance. I thought that there was no point in resisting just to show him my disapproval of being bossed around. I added a full barrel above the chest, he found some desks more and supported the door. I topped the barricade with a box… We looked at our creation and exchanged content stares, certain it would buy us at least a minute to think of the next step.

And then the barrier exploded, ruining all our work and sending us onto the floor. Ratatoskr, pushed away by the impact, slid through the chamber and only her claws helped her to stop before she hit the wall. She bristled her fur when the knights entered, hissing like a Tasmanian devil and bowing her back. In a flash, she skittered between their legs and tried to escape to the corridor, but one sling of the blade discharged her with no problem. Ryder winced, catching her energy, a drop of sweat slid through the layer of dust on his face. The Titans approached us; we could only crawl back, praying to die a quick, painless death.

But hadn't I always been a rebel? Hadn't I always opposed everyone and everything, ever since I had learnt that I could offer something the others want to have and force them to make effort to get it instead of surrendering to them willingly? And hadn't I usually invented a plan to show them that no matter what they did, I was the only person who could predestine the results of the struggle?

'GAREON!', I called piercingly.

One of the knights arched and spread his arms, shot at the back by two green raybeams coming from the eyes of the lizard emerging from nowhere after a long period of invisibility. The gecko-like Titan repeated the blast, and then, seeing the sword approaching him, curled up and rolled aside, then hit from a different angle. It gave us both time to jump onto our feet, however, not enough to make any plans of way out. I saw a flash in the corner of my eye and barely dodged the slash of the second knight; Ryder sent Augerfrost right into the knight's visor. I turned around and added Venomhand to that, knocking him back. I almost fell down when Ryder hit me with his back, forced to back out by Gareon's recent victim who stopped to care for the lizard wandering around his feet and marked us as more interesting targets.

'What about now, Mr. Not-So-Cheap Tracker?!', I cracked, plastering to him to have my rear covered and observing as the infuriated knights raised from the floor, pissed like hell and ready to chop us into pieces in no time. 'Maybe now you're ready to pick up teamwork with a mere chick?!'

'No option!', he shouted back as he swept one knight off his feet and pushed him under the nearest wall with a spell. I snarled and fired Raypulse right at the Titan's chest; it red-heated his armor for a moment, but there was no other sign of any damage. I leaped aside and used Touchram; it worked way more effectively.

Next to me, Ryder almost wrestled with the second attacker, relying mostly on hit-and-run method. When the knight started to get irritated by his runaways, he tried to pierce him like a roasted chicken, however, the treasure hunter dodged it and rolled aside, kicking the knight right into his steeled butt and making him fall onto his face. I let out a laugh. It looked ridiculous to see a Titan touching his bum in a human-like manner! Ryder peeked at me and smirked, winking knowingly. My lips twitched, but I held back a smile and shrugged instead, pretending that I didn't give a damn about his show-off and had seen better performances.

He shook his head and came back to the fight, now changing his tactics to punches and strong kicks; however, even his heavy boots must've felt like pebbles against the sturdy armor.

'Redcap!', he shouted eventually when his head almost got chopped off his neck.

The Titan appeared in front of him and charged at the assaulter, outstretching its long claws. They scratched the breastplate, but didn't reach any further, and when Redcap backed its hand, the claws came off his paw like broken knifes. The black knight pushed it back with one swing of his reinforced gloves and then charged at Ryder again.

'Armorbrand!', he shouted and the bluish barrier started to raise around him… but before it covered him up to the head, the knight buzzed through the forming power shield and got inside the energy sphere, tearing it from the inside. Ryder choked out a shout when a steeled hand was about to squeeze his neck like a twig. However, the knight's hand didn't reach his throat; it fell down few meters away, ripped off his gauntlet. Both Ryder and the Titan watched it with shock, however, the knight didn't get enough time to understand what was going on as a blast tore him into pieces right away.

Ryder's jaw dropped as he observed me through the mist left by the disappearing knight as if he couldn't have believed I'd just made a Titan pop out just like that, with one spell.

'What're ya waiting for?!', I chided him angrily, fighting with a desperate feeling that maybe I overdid it, though I'd love to observe his stunned face a little longer and wallow in pride. 'Get up, there's still one left!'

He listened to me and quickly stood beside me; now the tables had turned, we were two on only one attacker. The knight seemed confused and didn't know which one to eliminate first; it tried to kill two birds with one stone, charging right between us in hope to ram us both. We jumped to different sides, then fired spells from left and right. It wasn't enough to defeat the enemy, but immobilized him for long enough to prepare the next move.

'Strix!', I called the same time when Ryder summoned Enforcer. After the hornets and the monstrous bug finished their job, piercing through the dark armor, the remains of the breastplate looked like a sieve. It fell down along with gauntlets, shin guards, shoulder pads and the helmet which slowly turned into a sparkling dust. Half of it disappeared, but the other half formed a spiky shape.

We exchanged stares, but before I made a move, Ryder swept the amulet right before my nose. He raised it and examined closely and too attentively, as if he was trying to irk me. However, when he saw as much as he could have wished for, he threw the amulet to me so suddenly that I barely caught it.

'Here', he muttered. 'Take it. You deserve it. You were quite a view to see, after all.'

'I know', I jerked my head up proudly, squeezing the talisman in my hands. 'You're not the one to distribute the prizes. Besides', I continued as he came to the wall, searching something on the floor, 'you're not doing it out of gratefulness for saving your life.'

'Saving my life?!', he repeated, turning to me. 'I was the one to push the knight off you first!'

'Yeah, right', I ironized. 'I won't believe in your chivalry. You only gave me that', I showed him the amulet, 'because you knew you would find… this one', I point at the thing he tried to hide in his pocket with the gesture of my head.

He froze with his hand in his clothes, then sighed and lowered his head.

'Well, you got me', he murmured, peeking at me. Then he did something I couldn't predict. He smiled to me. Without the spite, disregard nor irony. Kinda… approvingly.

'Damn, girl', he smacked his lips. 'Maybe your ass isn't your only asset.'

And then, though I fought desperately not to show any sign of satisfaction and make him realize I don't care for an opinion of some low-class errand boy, I smiled widely with triumph.

15th July 2009, Wednesday, 17:20

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

When the next hour passed and there still wasn't any sign of Zhalia's presence, Dante felt that soon, there'd be no power that would push them through the maze. His own started to fade away with every empty chamber they were passing through. His keen senses screamed from pain when he urged them to make another damn effort to found just a slight evidence that there might have been the third member of the party, he looked every room up and down, he didn't miss any insignificant detail which could bring him closer to the lost companion, however… there hadn't been any trace of human appearance since they had found the stub. Yet it didn't belong to the person Dante desperately searched for.

Worry and fear caused his body to lose strength faster than usually. He didn't know if he would be able to continue that determined march for much longer. He promised himself he wouldn't resign from searching until he fainted from exhaustion, however, it was too drastic to fulfill. How would it help if he became a lifeless ballast? That way, he wouldn't save Scarlet nor Zhalia… Soon, he would have to rest, no matter how awful that thought seemed. And how impossible. How could he relax? It meant wasting every minute Zhalia spent in the labyrinth, waiting for their arrival…

'Dante…! Come here!'

He shook his head; he couldn't stand the imagination of her voice calling him through the halls with no response, as he was too far away for it to reach him. It only doubled his pain. He wished he could answer her shout, find her and take her away back to the Lamberts' safe house, promising he would never ever ignore her opinion and go on a mission against her will, but… hell, it was too late…

'Dante!', the voice insisted and he realized it was not Zhalia, but Scarlet calling him. He was disappointed like that just few times in his life. 'Take a look over here! I see the light… and, here!', she pointed at her hair. Vale took a closer look and noticed how small strands around her face flowed; it meant…

'The wind is blowing', he remarked. 'There must be a hole it gets through… maybe big enough for us.'

Byrne nodded vigorously, as if that observation refreshed her. They both dashed forward, not paying as much attention at the stones under their feet as their had done before. They ignored the times they almost tripped and crossed the hall in few seconds, then entered an oval chamber. Dante had to cover his eyes; after a long walk through the tomb, they had gotten used to darkness, and now a stream of light was cascading onto them through a round hole in the ceiling – maybe a meter wide - made just above a pedestal with strange ornaments carved on its surface.

'It must be an oblation chamber!', Scarlet recognized; she boldly fought against the pain in her squinted eyes, shot by the sunbeams as well, and came closer to the stone table. 'The smoke was leaving through there', she pointed at the hole. 'It all makes sense!', she laughed, clapping her hands and almost dancing around the chamber. 'We are saved!'

Dante closed his eyes and didn't say anything; he observed Scarlet happiness and couldn't force himself by remarking: Not all of us yet.

'Dante!... Dante, please, come!'

He clenched his teeth. Even his mind added to his suffering. He couldn't stand it any longer. He stood on the pedestal and nodded to Scarlet to do the same. Faster they would get out, faster he'd call the Irish Foundation compound to bring help.

How long would it take for them to get here? How long Zhalia would have to wait for them?... Will she survive that long?...

'I'll give up a leg-up', he said to Scarlet, trying to drown that inner voice by speaking out loud.

'I can just use Hyperstride', she proposed.

'Conserve your strength', he calmed her down. 'I'm fine with that. You must be light like a feather.'

She gave him a small smile, the first in a while, probably intending to thank him that way for his concern. However, he only felt bitterness seeing it. How could she smile and laugh knowing Zhalia's loss was her fault? At first, he could accept her behavior as a sign of relief after a long tension, but now… it resembled more a cruel mock. He had to bite his tongue not to say anything harmful.

He quickly formed a stirrup from his hands and offered it to her. She stepped onto it and he lifted her up.

And then he heard a painful howl. Not in his mind. All around him. It was coming from one of the tunnels, echoing in the empty space like in a cathedral and turning the voice into a desperate prayer.

He straightened up a bit, forgetting he was Scarlet's only supporting point and any abrupt move would interrupt her equilibrium. She automatically caught some protruding stones not to lose balance, however, he had to embrace her in the waist not to make her slide down and bruise herself harder.

'What's up?!', she asked, looking down and catching shallow breaths due to shock.

'Someone… someone is screaming…', he mumbled, barely able to move his lips as he listened out to the voice, trying to recognize it – and holding Byrne at the same time, in a very uncomfortable position. 'A woman… I can hear her, she's close! It must be Zhalia!', he stated and then raised his stare to meet his companion's gaze, saying firmly: 'You come up', he demanded, lifting her higher. 'Climb a little and you'll make it!'

'What about you?!', she asked in fear, sensing a strange tension in his voice; or maybe it was the expression of his eyes what gave him out?

'I'm gonna try to find Zhalia!', he shouted back, not trying to hide it.

'Dante, that's madness!', she shook her head, bracing herself against the walls. 'You can't stay down here! That man… you cannot face him alone! I saw what he did to you. He won't hesitate to kill you if he bumps into you again!'

'I won't give him a chance!', he panted. 'Don't worry! I will manage!'

'No!', she protested, starting to wriggle in his arms. 'I won't leave you!'

'Get out of here!' he ordered her, gritting his teeth, as her struggles only doubled the effort. 'Once you're up, you'll be able to get help!', he underlined, pushing her up so suddenly that she only squealed and popped out the hole like a cork out the champagne bottle, surprised and unable to stop it.

'Catch the signal and send the red alert to the Foundation! And quick!', he reminded her when she got up from the grass and dashed to the hole again; her contorted face shaded the slit, the afternoon sun was lightening her fiery hair like a torch.

'Dante, you…!', she screamed a second before Vale turned around abruptly and disappeared in the tunnel.

He didn't listen to Scarlet's loud screams, though she was trying to stop him; he tried to turn the noise down in his brain and listen just to that sobbing somewhere in the maze, so weak, faint and insignificant, yet thundering under his skull like drums and trumpets.

The same day, 17:37

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Waiting for the Kilthanes to clear the way drags a bit. Seems that the cave-in made more serious damages to the passages than I previously thought. Well, I shouldn't be surprised. It was quite a boom, after all. Guess the ancient Irish people really knew their stuff. However, it seems strange they went such lengths to protect their rituals and worship places. Destroying them so one else would have a chance to possess them? Quite a drastic method of keeping their culture safe… But who am I to judge it? I'm an atheist, after all. The only thing I believe in is my own capability.

My only entertainment is observing how Ryder puffs out small circles of smoke, finding a special pleasure in smelling the clouds. He doesn't even mind a cough which sometimes escapes his mouth. I guess that the reasons for his good mood are: finding an extra pack of snogs in his backpack (a bit rumpled after my landing on him, but he stated the ciggies taste as fricking as ever), the close departure from the tomb and his chance to loot a high reward. No wonder he seems so relaxed, lying on the wall with both arms under his head and his legs stretched out comfortably. I wish I could mimic his behavior, however…

'You know', I start slowly, 'before we go, I must find Dante.'

He opens one eye and peeks at me attentively.

'Dante?', he repeats mockingly. 'You're on the first name basis with that wuss?'

I shrug, embracing my knees.

'I have to keep my cover.'

'Of course', he murmurs with amusement, then adds lightly: 'You know, I've always mistaken his name with Homer. Stupid, eh? It's like offending good ol' Homer Simpson…'

'You've always been dumb when it comes to names', I interrupted him negligently. 'Even your own. But don't put the wool over my eyes. Say, are you able to locate him?', I insist.

He throws me a short stare, then closes his eyes again. He doesn't say anything for a while, just tapping his foot against the ground and continuing smoking; the grayish mist starts to make my eyes watery.

'Why do you care so much?', he asks me eventually, in a low, raspy murmur.

'I've told you', I growl, a bit annoyed by his laziness. I guess he just wants to win another spare minute by making me blabber. 'Klaus told me to take care of him.'

'Seems like you do', Ryder smirks. 'A very deep care.'

I gap my mouth, surprised by his comment. What?! Me caring for Dante? Ridiculous… I'm the one who agreed to blow him off existence. I couldn't care less if he survives or not, however… Klaus seems to be concerned about the secrets he'd take to his grave, so is Professor. And if they are, I must be as well. I have to share their point of view, as they will be the ones to account me for my moves towards Vale. For losing him prematurely as well…

Besides, he doesn't deserve to disappear just like that, without fanfares. After all, he somehow won that high position in Huntik… he can't just die like a mere mongrel, buried under the boulders. It seems even less glamorous that being eaten by mechanical bug… I promised to give him just a final gift of an elegant departure. It's not much, but don't expect me to be too generous. Especially towards a guy who hasn't given me a single flower while he strews Scarlet with bouquets.

'Stop screwing', I snarl, irritated by Ryder's suggestion. 'I just don't want to come back and tell the high-ups I failed… You can imagine what'd happen then. So?', I don't want to continue the topic. 'What's with your part of the deal?'

He raises his lids lazily, stopping with his cigarette a centimeter away from his lips. He looks at it, then lowers it reluctantly, observing the ribbon of smoke playing around his fingers yearningly.

'How to tell you that, babe…', he murmurs, rolling the cigarette between his fingers in a caressing manner. 'There's a bargain I made way sooner than this.'

CRACK.

Suddenly, a loud scrape of bended metal makes my teeth ache. My Kilthane gives out a metallic shout and disappears in a cloud of greenish dust, pierced through his armor so suddenly that his curved sword didn't manage to block… exactly the same blade. I moan from pain when his energy comes back to the amulet and I feel a faint shade of that injury. When I manage to open my eyes, through a layer of tears covering my lashes due to smoke and pain, I see that Ryder no longer smokes the ciggy; it lies next to his right boot and quickly gets crushed by a mail-clad leg of his Titan.

'I'm sorry, babe', Ryder says slowly. 'I have my debts to pay.'

'What the hell does it have to do with me?!', I drawl, blinking to clear my vision.

'It makes a very straight connection', he explains patiently. 'I made a bet with one of the Suits. I said you'd get rid of Vale in two days… and so, I lost my cash', he adds with some kind of reproof in his voice.

Is that another stupid nightmare or I'm really scolded by my ex for causing him trouble? And he thinks that it's an honor for me that he believes in my capabilities so much to see my mission as an opportunity to earn easy money! That's so ridiculous I'd burst into laughter if I wasn't a heroine of that bitter anecdote.

'You won't get it back that way, damn it', I growl, still holding my side. 'If he's dead…'

'…I will win another bet', Ryder smirks. 'Do you take me for a fool? I always keep myself covered. I forced him to make an agreement that he'll give me the cash back if Vale passes in his marbles in two months.'

I grit my teeth.

'How could you know if you win this one? There was no assurance I'd decide to finish my mission during this time…'

'I could take a risk', he shrugs. 'I didn't lose anything, I could only gain.'

'Yet I can't understand… how did you happen to be here just the day we did?', I squint my eyes suspiciously.

'I've always been lucky', he grins. 'I didn't expect to win the bet, so I accepted some new jobs to gather some funds. Then, I happened to bump into a lovely group of tourists… and right when I thought I was doomed due to being spotted, you informed me that I turned my bet into self-fulfilling prophecy! Isn't that a sign the fortune loves me? Way more than your lover boy, I think…', he chuckles, very satisfied with himself, though a long cough followed by the laughter dampens his mood a bit.

A stream of hot blood rushes to my head at that remark. Lover boy?! How Ryder dares to make such assumptions!? Did I give him any reason during those five minutes he saw me beside Vale?! I guess not, as I was too angry with him to even pretend to be nice… Damn, I've never ever acted as if I was attracted to him! Alright, maybe… once, when I was in a really bad condition, I wondered how it'd be like to have him. But that's all! Me and Dante hadn't even hold hands once! We didn't hug, kiss nor screw until dawn! I've never ever fawned over him! However, it pisses me off as f*ck that I'll never have a chance to decide if I'd want to! If Dante's dead, I'll be as well soon…

I clench my teeth, lifting myself up from the floor awkwardly.

'Ryder', I mumble, breathing heavily due to the effort I put into keeping straightened on my jelly-like legs. 'Soon, you'll regret finding that packet of snogs.'

'Because?', he asks me with a mocking politeness, amused by my miserable performance.

'I'm gonna stuff them in your ass', I growled furiously, 'one by one, so they'll find a second spine on your X-ray!'

He's always had a good reflex. I didn't expect him to estimate my current abilities so low that he wouldn't manage to cover himself with at least a basic shield when I fired a double Raypulse right at his face. If it hit him, his mug would be a good showpiece for a Borneo head hunters exhibition, shrunk and dried like a raisin.

However, there was Kilthane by his side. His shield blocked the hit with ease. Moreover, it kept me from continuing the attack. And covered Ryder, leaving me exposed to his moves. I try to reach him under Kilthane's arm, but he only doubles up, apparently dodging the blast… and then dashes from behind the shield, pouncing at me and knocking me off my feet.

My back explodes in pain when I hit the ground. I gasp, trying to catch my breath desperately, but my lungs seem filled by nails, every flow of air ignites fire in them. I can't even move a finger, let alone push away the man pressing me to the floor. He takes advantage on my temporary helplessness, twisting my arms and pressing them to the ground above my head. He immobilizes me with ease, using his weight to restrain me.

'Relax, babe', he calms me down, feeling my weak attempts to release myself. 'I'm not gonna do anything bad to you. I just want to make sure you won't mess my plans up by calling your new friends or something… Even if they start to search for your team, they won't do anything to me as I have a hostage, right?', he explains. 'I'll release you the moment I'm away from the Foundation territory. I have no intention of dragging you all the way. Unless you decide to follow, lured by my pheromones…', he grins unpleasantly.

I struggle in his grasp, but his hands are more effective than a wire. Then, I try the nastiest method of getting rid of a man: kicking him in his crotch.

'Woah, you're still quite prancing, aren't you?', he mocks me, pressing my knee to the ground with his; I have to clench my teeth not to scream. 'I always appreciated your agility... Who would think that you spend most of your time in bed?'

If I don't spew out a long set of curses right into his mug, I'll explode from pain and rage. I choose the worst I have in my dictionary, aiming at his ancestors, mother in particular, but before I finish it, his hand covers my mouth so suddenly that I don't even have a chance to avoid it. My furious mumble doesn't sound scary at all if I can't use my mouth properly!

'Then, a gag and a tie', he states firmly. 'Damn, I've always wanted to give you a bondage…', he adds in a less serious tone, making me even more furious. I can only wriggle as he prepares to tie me. 'I can't let you alarm your pals with all that shouting. Your lover boy could interrupt my performance the way I'd rather not accept.'

What? Dante… he's alive?! He's been all the way? And Ryder… he didn't tell me anything, just to use me the way he wanted?! Like a puppet pulled by its strings?! Giving me a sense of superiority, yet weaving the plot to suit his needs?!

'What's with that look?', he twitches his brows a bit. 'Of course I didn't let him rummage through the tomb without supervision. I kept an eye on him all along. He's in quite a good form. Don't overjoy', I can't tell how he noticed that, as I didn't do anything… maybe just widened my eyes a bit, 'not for long. I'm not gonna lose the money I could earn after his disappearance… and risk letting him out with all the info about my whereabouts. He'd take that to his grave… after all, cave-ins happen, right? And sometimes there are casualties… but don't worry, at least he'd have company here', he guffawed.

I tensed, then tried to push him out – with no effect, but desperately enough to surprise him. His Kilthane moves nervously, raising his blade a bit, just in case. However, Ryder manages to keep me immobilized with ease – he's almost thirty kilo heavier than me, and I feel it on my lap, slowly getting numb due to his weight.

'So, angry I outsmarted you?', he banters with me with apparent pleasure, now that I have no opportunity to punish him for his scorns. 'Did you really think I'd agree willingly to your conditions? Knowing what a sly vixen you are? I still remember your dirty little tricks, babe', he whispers meaningfully to my ear, sliding his finger across my neck and then pressing it to my skin.

Like a needle.

19th April 2004, Sunday, 0:21

Yeovil

Somerset County

England

The UK

This was a right time.

We fulfilled our mission. The goods Klaus wanted to get are lying safely in the sack, just few of them stand before Ryder, examining them in a dim light of the lamp.

'That was quite a blast', he comments. 'If I knew it'd take so much sweat, I'd demand a double prize for getting the loot out unscratched…', of course. I didn't think the items valued for him as cultural heritage; more as a tool to score a right payment.

He had turned his back to me. He didn't even pay attention to me, lost in his observations. He was a perfect target. The moment had come.

I slid the needle down my sleeve and caught it in my fingers, squeezing it tight not to drop it onto the floor and alarm him with its quiet clatter. I took a deep breath. Only one chance. I couldn't fail. I had to do my best just for a tiny bit of second… and then it would be over.

'I guess your old man would be pleased', Ryder stated, then started to whistle quietly.

Of course he would. He'd have both the loot and the money without any effort. I hoped he'd just notice how much it had cost me. Travelling for few days with a man who treated me like his maid, standing his sexist jokes, dumping his importunity… Revenge would be sweet.

I sneaked out right behind his back. I was a step away from him. Just one agile jump and a swing of hang, then thrusting the needle deep into his vein, in that plain place uncovered by the low collar of his jersey…

I didn't hesitate. I used all my nimbleness and crossed the small gap between us, then, moving smoothly like a ballet dancer, reached to the side of his neck.

And then I hissed, feeling a handcuff-like grip on my wrist. I clenched my lids, feeling a contortion in my hand, yet unable to slacken it as the grasp doubled.

'You thought you'd fool me?', Ryder growled; his rusty eyes looked like two gates of hell, burning with fury. 'I knew right from the start that the old fart was planning some dirty trick', he barked, pushing me back to the wall covered by cabinets. I gasped when my back hit the wood and the handles pushed into my flesh. 'Sending me off with a hot chick, agreeing to my conditions so obediently…', he continued, not giving a shit about the obvious signs of my pain. He was so close that I see the lighter edge surrounding his pupils and a small scar next to his left mouth corner; his breath settled on my lips like a vapor as he spoke. 'Don't take me for a halfwit.'

He tightened the grip on my wrist; my hand got closer to my neck, the needle almost reached the vein. I gulped, trying to free my hand, but he's so damn strong, there's no way I'd break his grip. So, that's it. Klaus warned me I'd have only one chance. I had lost it. I had overestimated my own strength, thinking that after the whole day of escapes, using a dozen spells and defeating two powerful Titans I'd be as fresh as a daisy and deal with my prey with no problem. That mistake would cost me an arm and a leg… maybe literally.

'Too bad', Ryder whispered when the tip was just a centimeter from my skin. 'I started to like you.'

'F*ck you, Ryder', I spitted it at his face as a goodbye.

'I'd rather f*ck you instead', he smirked, not moved by my rage. 'What a pity you made such proposition too late.'

15th July 2009, Wednesday 17:43

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

I shiver when Ryder's hand suddenly slides down my cheek.

'You know I hate to do that', he assures me almost softly. 'Even though you're such a snaky b*tch… I guess that's why you used to stir me. Well, you still do', he admits ostentatiously, shrugging. 'Too bad we didn't meet somewhere else, in other circumstances… I prefer women moaning because of me in quite different situations… way more pleasant for both…', he moves his brow in a suggestive manner.

And then, out of impulse, I realized there was the only idea I could try before giving up. It wasn't exactly a thing I'd like to do, on the contrary, I'd rather kiss my ass than stoop so low, but it couldn't hurt to try. After all, I was prepared to rely on such dirty methods and stay insensible to them somehow.

I bite his palm and he backs his hand, surprised, growling and shaking his arm. However, before he manages to do anything more than cursing, I dash forward and smack my lips against his.

Just like back then.

They were still, unmoved when I pressed mine against them. They tasted of rough skin, smoke and salt. So dry. Unless I felt them parting; his wet tongue slid across them and entered my mouth, finding mine and catching it in a violent dance. I let him take the leadership, having more important thing to achieve. It was a bit hard to focus on French-kissing Ryder and trying to release my hand, but I doubled my efforts to do so. However, his grip didn't loose a tiny bit. I felt his breath on my mouth when he broke the kiss only to give out a mean chuckle.

'Very clever', he murmured, 'but don't you think you can scoop out like that.'

He twisted my wrists a bit and the needle fell onto the floor, sliding from my fingers.

'That's what I call safe sex', he commented, peeking at the needle. He swept it under one of the cabinets with one swing of his leg, then pressed me to the wall. 'Now… both of us can have some fun.'

No. I wouldn't, I didn't want to, I hated him, his looks, his personality, his irritating way of looking down on me, the odor of his snogs sticking to his fingers, clothes and hair, his certainty that he'd have me on his terms, like everyone! I didn't want it, I'd be the one to decide how it looked like, despite my duties, my orders, my fate which protested hardly against my actions…!

A sudden shiver shot through me when I felt his rough chops sliding down my exposed neck, the tip of his tongue leaving a warm, wet trace on my skin. His fingers played with the edges of my trousers, hooking on the straps of my knickers and tickling those sensitive spots on my groins, additionally brushed by his tough, muscular thighs. I bit my lower lip not to let out a moan, but I couldn't do anything about the growing undulation of my chest and my raising body heat…

And then, despite my desperate attempts to save just the pieces of my haughty pose, I just surrendered to them, forgetting about my promise to Klaus and the consequences. There was just only thing I wanted to fulfill. I wanted to convince Ryder that out of us both, I was the one on the upper hand, the one who had to power to leave him at my mercy, crawling at my feet and begging for more.

I pushed him away the moment when I felt him vulnerable due to the obvious changes occurring in his body reacting to mine. He gasped and backed, but I didn't give him a chance to recover. I threw him onto the bed before he even blinked, then pounced on his lap like a wild cougar, sucking face with him as if I had tried to drain his power like a vampire. We broke the deep kiss only when it disturbed us in tearing our clothes off. I blindly unzipped his trousers, he'd already slid mine down my calves, groping my buttocks in a way that I both hated and enjoyed due to the mix of violent pleasure it was giving me. When he turned the tables and pressed me to the mattress, I wanted both to send him flying and pull him closer right away. As I couldn't do both, I just made my inner needs satisfied by nibbling at his ear as strong as I could, making him suffer for the stream of unwanted, twisted delight he caused in my whole body…

That was like a first jab leading to my two-years-long addiction.

15th July 2009, Wednesday, 17:44

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Dante crossed the corridor and turned left, then right, then left again… with each choice he made, the voice seemed to be closer. And then… he dashed into a chamber filled with a pile of rubble; apparently, it was one of the rooms which surrounded the initial cavern, blown by the Organization tracker. They took most of the damage; now their walls looked like messed puzzles, the carvings on them didn't even create a certain pattern, just pieces of it tossed around like uneven corn flakes.

Boltlflare lit above his head gleamed like a sparkler and casted an aura of glow in the dimness. The tiny sparks fell in a semi-circular pattern, creating a diadem-like ornament above a dark-haired head and making her hair looking even more bluish than they were normally.

For a second, Dante stared at that view as if he was blessed with an epiphany, so miraculous that he couldn't do anything but stare paralyzed and just watch the stars disappearing one by one. He was just blinking and in the diminishing light, staring at her small face surrounded by a mass of ruffled hair, lying messily like a blotch and falling onto a shallow crease on her forehead, her knees and hands scratched, her big, wet eyes flashing brightly in the dirt covering her cheeks, with small lines created by tears making their way through the dust…

'Zhalia', he uttered before the last spark blew out, and as he spoke that name, something broke in him; after all that time of worrying, tensing in fear and desperately looking for any sign of her presence, hell, she was alive and well, SHE WAS THERE!

He felt so desperate to check her injuries, catch her into his grip, bring her so close to his chest that she'd certainly accuse him of choking her, kiss her stained forehead or apologize for making it so long… yet he couldn't make a step out of the tunnel mouth, paralyzed…

She solved his trouble; five second after she saw him, she just raised her hand impatiently and shot him.

Right at his chest.

Without hesitation.

And smirking.

He realized what Scarlet shouted to him before:

'It might be a trap!'

He sneered. As if he hadn't known it. He fell into it willingly.

Overshield stopped the blast right before it pierced through his skull like a thin beam of a bluish laser. It barely resisted the next energy wave, but Dante withstood the damage somehow, just got pulled under the wall, observing how the familiar face was melting into another one, long, pale and crowned by red hair.

'So, we finally meet again', Dante snapped, recognizing the one that gave him a large bruise on his chest.

The ginger's only response was a fiery stare and a quick twitch of his lips.

'You don't seem very happy about that', Dante remarked sarcastically. 'I guess you prefer to get rid of your enemies by shooting at their back when they least expect it… for example, leading them astray by playing on their emotions… just like every Organization scumbag', he snarled. 'Too bad you failed. Your method was old, yet quite clever…', he recalled the look on the fake Zhalia face and a shiver came down his spine; it was so hard to resist its painful look, even if he had had a feeling it was a doppelganger… 'However', he added, shaking that memory off, 'I found the proofs of your presence before. And strange traces of a fight… which made me aware that maybe you had an encounter with my teammate. And would try to use it somehow… I wasn't mistaken', he finished, straightening up.

The guy just raised his brows in a manner saying: 'Well, well, quite a smartass you are.'

'I'm sorry', Vale answered with a mean grin. 'It's just my occupational habit. Now, we'll get straight to the point. Where's Zhalia?', he asked sharply.

The man responded with an unmentionable gesture. However, he quickly lowered his hand when a flashing beam almost ripped his middle finger off.

'If you're not gonna tell me willingly', Dante growled, 'I'll make you spit it with your blood or pull it directly from your throat!'

Then he rushed at the rival, distracting him with a double Boltflare. However, the spheres of light quickly drowned in a cloud of smoke that shot up from the floor and covered everything in a thick, choking shroud. Dante quickly covered his mouth and nose in case the dust was toxic. He looked around to find the Organization operative, but he vanished in the smoke. Dante cursed, unable to believe he lost him due to such a simple trick.

His fear was too early. Two seconds later, a heavy combat boot almost created a hole in his temple. He dodged the blow and another one coming right after, then tried to counterattack. He managed to direct two kicks, then a punch, but they got avoided as easily as if the sturdy man wasn't made of flesh, as his strength and appearance suggested, but of wind. Dante was greatly shocked by such efficiency; he had rather expected the guy to be a hill of meat, too heavy to act fast if needed and focused on crushing his enemy no matter what the costs, and supposed that he would have advantage over him, due to his lighter weight, overall flexibility and canniness. However, he had to admit the goon wasn't just a mere cannon fodder; though his style resemble a wild mix of advanced martial arts wrests and simple ploys right from a cheap-jack taproom, he seemed experienced in combining them effectively enough to impress even such a stager like Dante. Additionally, he showed some shrewdness by blinding Dante and threatening him with an unknown substance. Fighting with his mouth covered was a bit complicated and, as it turned out a moment later, doomed to failure. When the guy aimed at his head again, Dante somersaulted, but to keep his balance, he had to lower his hand and expose his nostrils to the smoke. He didn't mind so much, though; he thought that since his enemy was immune to it, he would be as well.

Wrong. When he took a breath, he thought he'd either suffocate or vomit, trying to push the smell from his mouth with the stomach contents. He fell onto his knees, banging his fist against his chest, as if it could have helped anyhow. The guy chuckled somewhere in the maze, sensing an easy target. However, Dante had a suitable support, even in such inconvenient conditions.

'SOLWING!', he choked out quickly, holding back his nausea.

The falcon dashed into the air so swiftly that he resembled a reversed lightning. He didn't mind the smoke – just like his kin, he didn't have to breathe. Dante wished he could summon Caliban, but he didn't have enough energy to risk such a move. Besides, out of his Titans, Solwing had the best eyesight and would notice even a moth on a dark tree trunk, let alone the stout goon in the smoke. In a blink of an eye, he swooped, scaring the attacker away from Dante, aiming at the bruiser's eyes with his sharp claws. It gave Vale time to pull himself together and get ready to continue the fight. Moreover, Solwing's fluttering wings quickly dissipated the cloud which would have taken time to clear off normally, as the air in the tomb was rather still; thus, the risk was saw off and Dante could stop worrying about being knocked off again.

'I must ask Zhalia to teach me Headcage', he reminded himself. But first, he had to pump the goon for information where she was. Oh wait… Where was him, to begin with? Vale examined the whole interior, but he was nowhere to find. Solwing seemed confused as well, flying above his head in circles. Dante asked him what happened, surprised that the falcon couldn't tell where the enemy was, but the bird was just sending him unclear responses that he could sense the persecutor somewhere nearby, but he was 'out of his reach'. Dante assumed it was some kind of an invisibility power that even Solwing's sharp stare couldn't pierce through.

'Alright', he growled, even more determined to crush the operative due to fooling him like a mere youngster. 'Enough of dirty tricks and playing hide-and-seek. Come out and fight me like a man, if you have any balls.'

There was no response, but Dante wasn't going to give up that easily.

'You're quite silent! Out of your witty jokes and cocky catchphrases?', he started to talk trash him. 'Sad that you don't have anything more than that.'

There was a flash behind him. Vale smirked.

'You're helpless without your explosive toys, aren't you?', he continued casually, as if he had talked with an old peer. 'Making everything explode, seeing the destruction you cause… yeah, that's just how the real man would like to handle stuff', he perfectly hid the mockery. 'But… it's a bit disturbing that you were so willing to give me a blow job', he underlined sarcastically. 'Wonder what you colleagues will think about it when the news spreads in the Organization… You will have to make a lot of explanations!'

Dante was prepared that the results would come very quickly. That was how insulting another dude worked – especially if the other guy was very sensitive about his masculinity and couldn't stand being accused of any suspicious acts. However, Dante almost missed the moment nevertheless. When the man jumped out of nowhere, he had just a second to turn around and fire a double spell right at his chest. Raypulse's increased energy lit between them, separating their bodies, then repulsed the goon so hard that he hit the wall. Dante gritted his teeth, expecting a loud crack of bones. However, it didn't sound. Instead of the short thud of a falling body, there was silence… in which a stream of reddish energy almost sneaked out the room, leaving just a faint splash of sparks in the place where the man's back was supposed to be.

A Titan!, Dante's eyes widened in realization. Of course, that explained the immunity to poison gas and invisibility! However, if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he'd never believe in a Titan mimicking human appearance and behavior so accurately…

He didn't think twice.

'Solwing!', he shouted to the falcon accompanying him. 'Follow him! We can't lose him! He'll lead us directly to his master!', he hurried the bird up. The Titan flashed through the chamber and disappeared, but Dante still felt their connection. He rushed to chase the reddish gleam as fast as he could. However, now there wasn't a risk he wouldn't manage to catch up with the nimble, phantom-like ribbon, having Solwing on its tail. He tried to do his best not to fall behind too much, though. It was way easier as he felt as if he had had an engine instead of heart, pushing him to dash through the tunnels like a rocket.

Just a little longer, Zhalia, he thought with new power. I'm coming.

15th July 2009, 17:47

The Heapstown Cairn

Carrowkeel

County Sligo

Ireland

Despite my plans, it wasn't me who broke the kiss.

I should have done so a long time ago. I should use the distraction, put my elbow into his abdomen, push the air out of his lungs and take advantage on his confusion to get free.

But, once again, I overestimated my skills. I didn't distance myself from my action. I simply couldn't back down. When I plastered myself to Ryder, all my brilliant ideas disappeared, leaving a striking emptiness which got filled by shock, disbelief and puzzlement. I should think only about how he detests me, everything I hate in him, our twisted relationship arising frustration, anger and competition between us, all the times he let me down, that one moment when he completely broke my trust, the whole time I tried to recover after he left me devastated…

I couldn't. Just as strongly as I pushed him away before, I don't want to let go now. His lips taste as salty as before, and are equally creased, but I don't mind them feeling so chapped against mine, full and soft. I can't get enough of his heat, his distinctive smell, both displeasing and appealing, the scratch of his short hair on my hands, his breath tangled with mine, a murmur of content escaping his throat… It was like a first dope after a long, long detox; though the bitter rehab appeared an only right thing to do before, now, contrasting with the pleasure of tasting the fresh drug, the defiance seemed dull, unnecessary and boring in comparison, way less exciting than sliding down the spiral of addiction…

I doubt we would brake in time if he didn't suddenly wince in ache and pull away abruptly, holding his ribs as if he had a heart attack. I see a thread of crimson energy sinking into his flesh as he grimaces, wriggling in twinge and pressing his hands to his chest. He screams loudly when three long scratches add to his suffering, crossing his face and dripping with blood. I look around to discover what caused such injuries, and then I notice a mass of gray feathers, pulling Ryder away from me despite Kilthane's attempts to eliminate it…

'Solwing!', I recognize the Titan. If he's close, then… then Dante must be nearby!

Two hours ago, I'd probably jump from joy to the ceiling and didn't mind hitting my head against it. But now… My heart shrinks in fear. I'm not worried he'll suspect me of knowing Ryder way better than a victim should know her persecutor. We don't look exactly friendly… apart from the kiss, of course, but I'm not gonna repeat that in front of Vale. However, keeping my cover means I'd have to fight with Dante against Ryder… convincingly, using my full strength. There's no way Ryder would stand us both. But there are certain borders of camouflage, damn it! I can't let the Foundation capture one of our best trackers!

I quickly push Ryder off me; it goes way easier than before due to the weakened state he's in. He exhales chokingly and falls back, but before he does, I manage to catch a small metal box strapped to his belt and tear it off with one quick tug. I take a closer look; hell yeah, easy like a club's structure… Only one button on the shell and a timer above. Good thing it doesn't require any advanced knowledge on incendiary devices…

'What're you doing, you idiot?!', Ryder shouts, noticing the lack of one of his toys. 'Do you want to bury us alive?!'

I raise my stare at him, at that face I hate so much, yet couldn't have erased it from my mind during all those years of separation; ugly like hell, contorted in frenzy, stained, smeared with red, resembling a bloodthirsty murderer from a thriller movie. But then, apart from that, I notice a spark of fear behind his eyes, which only increases his rage; like a hedged animal, torn off his dominion and confused by sudden realization that he might not deal with the events as smoothly as always. And a pitiful smile bends my lips a bit. I've decided.

'Zhalia!', I hear Dante's voice behind me. I take a look behind me; I see a brownish spot just entering the chamber. I don't have time. No hesitation anymore.

'I'm sorry', I say, jerking up from the ground. Ryder dashes to stop me by any means, but I repulse him to the exit our Kilthanes cleared. I turn my head aside not to see him gaping in disbelief as I clench my teeth and push the button on the shell, then throw the box between us. Before it falls right into the centre of the chamber, I'm already on the move, running to the entrance as fast as my numb legs can carry me, feeling his stare on my back.

I've got only four seconds.

One.

I hear Solwing's piercing whizz when Kilthane slashes him in half.

Two.

I stand on something slippery like a piece of soap and trip over; I'm not gonna make it.

Three.

As I lay on the floor and try to crawl to the exit, I feel the ground is starting to shake already. I cover my head when I get shaded by a large shape, thinking that my time has come, but then I feel someone's hands catching me in half and pulling me through.

Four.

KABOOM.

---

Ouch.

And that's your whole afterlife. No suffering, they said. No injuries, they said. No bumps, they said.

However, I can perfectly feel mine. Especially my knees, torn off the skin when I fell onto the ground; my hands, clenched in fists so tightly that I suppose they got spasmed temporarily… and my head which feels so heavy that I would never ever lift it from the ground. I doubt spiritual beings have headaches… which only proves that I'm not gonna join the merry company of the Carrowkeel tombs soon.

But why is everything so dark, then? Was I blinded?

Nope; when I open my tightened lids and blink few times, a colorful mist before my eyes vanishes slowly, revealing a good view on a black sweater and a diarrhea-colored cloak. And a pair of worried, brown eyes somewhere above.

'Dante?', I speak up, though my throat feels very sore. 'Why… how…'

'Zhalia!', he beams suddenly. 'You woke up!'

'U-hum', I try to nod, but my neck feels so stiff. I rub it, wanting to remove the inflexibility as soon as possible, 'cause I feel like in a collar stiffener when I intend to turn it left, to the entrance. Much to my surprise, I can't see the destroyed chamber, as the entrance is barred by an enormous rock… dressed in a red loincloth?

'Metagolem?', I mumble in puzzlement.

'Yes', Dante admits. 'I managed to summon him in a last resort. If not him, we wouldn't probably get there unscarred. He's been covering us since then, in case the cave-in reached there.'

I listen out to the sounds of the falling rocks, but there is just a drown thud somewhere in the depths of the tomb.

'I don't hear the noise', I remark. 'Have I been unconscious for long?'

'No, I wouldn't let that happen', Dante assured me. 'We're just not exactly next to that chamber. I couldn't carry you far away, as I wasn't sure if you're not seriously wounded, but we couldn't stay so close to the cave-in.'

I murmur affirmatively and unbend a bit. My head doesn't want to keep straight. I have to hold it with my head not to let it fall off.

'Easy', Dante supports me with his arm. 'It's not very wise to move a lot in your state. You're fine', he calms me down, seeing my short, nervous stare. 'You just hit your head and have only a small bruise, here', he gently touches my forehead, brushing a strand falling onto my nose behind my ear, 'but it's barely visible.'

I tense when he slides his fingers across a sensitive, chaffed skin on my temple. His fingertips feel so rough… and they tremble.

'Only a bruise', he repeats, his voice strangled disconcertingly, 'when for all this time, I was worried that… that you… that I wouldn't get to you in time… when I think about it, I want to tear that bastard apart for keeping me away…'

I look at him in confusion. His face is so shallow, begrimed with grayish smears on his neck and forehead. On that background, small gashes on his temples and cheeks are barely visible, though some of them are still bleeding, the rest covered in dark scabs. When I lower my stare, I notice that his ruffled sweater, falling neglectfully onto his trousers, reveals a large, bluish contusion… And he's concerned about one insignificant bruise?!

Good thing my skin is darker than most people's. Otherwise I'd be red like a tomato, realizing that during all this time we were separated, I didn't think much about him. He rummaged through the whole tomb searching for me and blustering if I am safe and sound, left at the enemy's mercy, alone, maybe hurt... Meanwhile, I was just concerned if he wouldn't mess up my mission dying, and didn't worry exactly if I'd make it out alive, having a highly skilled tracker by my side and treating the march through the cairn like a walk with a long-time-no-see acquaintance… and finally, I risked our both lives to let Ryder slip away.

I turn my head aside, bite my lip and dig my nails into the fresh wound on my knee; feeling it splitting in half is way more pleasant that bitter, shameful feelings that are flooding me… However, when I press my thigh, I feel something sticking in my flesh. I slide my hand under it and touch something smooth, curved and warmed by my body heat. A lighter… But how? Of course; that's probably what I tripped over. I must've caught it automatically and carried it there. I've heard a lot about contortions so strong that people had to have their fingers broken to loosen the grip. Good thing mine wasn't that case and I dropped the lighter when Dante laid me there.

I must hide it. No one from the Foundation can see it, otherwise they'll get suspicious... But what can I do now when he's watching me? He'll notice… and start to ask, as a private eye and as a Foundation operative…

I squint my eyes when a shaft of light sweeps through the hall and then disappears, and then flashes again.

'Hey, is anyone there?!', I bristle mechanically due to the tone of that yell echoing in the tunnels, however, I've never been so happy to hear a man's voice.

'Don't shout!', a male baritone hushes piercingly. 'There's just been a cave-in! They'll see the lights, no need to scare them…'

'It's the Foundation', Dante overjoys, standing up briskly. 'We're saved!'

I sigh with relief, using the distraction to bring the lighter from under my thigh and drop it into my pocket. It feels heavier than it should. Maybe that's how the guilt weighs?...