Livin' fandom

When Destiny Calls You 2 & 3

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 21:32:21 GMT

I couldn't get online last week; sorry! Have two chapters to make up.

The flight got into Ireland late that afternoon, just after five. Lok was quiet as they headed for Kilorglin, leading them through the village towards his mother’s home outside it.

He paused at the end of the main street, eyeing one of the buildings. “Dante? We have a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I just want to check something.” He stepped into the building; Dante shrugged at Zhalia, following him in, and the girls followed on.

It turned out to be a book store. Lok headed for the stairs, and Sophie slipped past Dante to catch up with him. “What are we doing here, Lok?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

He grinned back at her, ducking through the doorway to the children’s section. It was deserted except for a salesgirl, kneeling in front of a set of shelves and checking through the books. Lok waved the others to wait for him and passed his backpack to Sophie, grinning at her.

He knelt beside the girl, studying the shelves with every appearance of interest. “What are you doing?”

“Returns,” she said absently. “Pass me that.”

Lok passed her the book she was pointing at, eyes alight with mischief, and rested back on his heels. Zhalia shifted, about to speak, but he glanced up to catch her eye and she subsided.

The girl spun, eyes wide; Lok caught her arm as she threatened to overbalance, laughing out loud.

“Lok Lambert, you wretch!” Her accent wasn’t as strong as Scarlett’s, but it was still Irish. “How long have you been home? I should hit you!”

“Only a few hours. We’re on the way to see my mom.”

“I thought you were studying this summer?”

“Time off for good behaviour.”

She laughed, reaching forward to pull him into a hug. Sophie tensed, watching them, but if Lok caught the look it didn’t bother him, and neither did his current touch issues; he returned the hug without hesitation.

“Tara,” he murmured into her hair, “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah, well, Venice. I couldn’t pass Irish, never mind a foreign language.” She let him go, pushing him back slightly so she could rise to her feet. “How long are you home for?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s sort of a flying visit…unexpected time off. And we speak English at school.” He turned her bodily to look at the others, taking a step back to join them. “Hey, I want you to meet my friends. Sophie Casterwill, Dante Vale, and Zhalia Moon, this is Tara Malley. We pretty much grew up together after I moved here.”

Sophie smiled, examining her quickly. Tara was two or three years older than Lok, with dark brown hair and a thin face, but she seemed friendly enough.

“Nice to meet you.” Tara waved a little. “Dante Vale. The treasure hunter?”

Dante frowned. “You have the advantage of me.”

“Oh, I took a history course at college. They talked about you, some things you’d found. Thought I might follow in your footsteps, for all of five minutes.”

“Well, it’s always a pleasure to meet an admirer.” He lifted her hand, brushing his lips lightly over her knuckles.

“You’re leading Lok’s archaeology course, right?” Zhalia snorted, and Tara frowned. “Is that…I thought that’s what Sandra said you were doing this summer. Did I get it wrong?”

“No, you’re right,” Lok said quickly. “Dante’s our field leader. Digging up relics, and all that.”

“Lok’s a very good student,” Dante added, mentally thanking Sandra’s quick thinking.

“What have you been doing? Tell me everything.”

Lok turned to the shelves, scanning them. “A bit of this, a bit of that. You know.” He pulled out a couple of books, handing them to her.

“You’re worse than Cathy! I ask her about you, I get something about her globe trotting little brother and that’s it. Details, Curly.”

Sophie laughed. “Curly?”

“Don’t,” Lok said warningly.

“Lok means curly. Didn’t he ever tell you that?” Tara grinned at him.

“Yeah, well, Tara means…never mind.”

“Oh, please go on! This is fascinating.” Sophie threaded her fingers together, looking as innocent as she possibly could.

“Lok’s a very old…Middle English, I think…name for someone with curly hair. That’s where we get a lock of hair,” Tara explained. “Or it’s Chinese for Joy, but whichever. Tell me where you’ve been, Lok.”

“All over. Greece a few weeks ago. Iceland before that. Prague…we seem to end up in Prague a lot…and Rouen.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have thought there were many archaeological digs in Rouen or Prague.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dante offered. “Builders turn up things all the time. In fact, I heard they dug something up in Killarney just recently.”

“Oh, the Black Friar’s graveyard? Yes, I heard about that.” She glanced at Lok. “You’re not going poking around there, are you?”

“No. And if we are you don’t have to come.”

“Black Friars?” Sophie repeated.

“Dominican Brothers. They had a monastery there, a couple hundred years ago. The people who own the shop now thought it was just outside their walls, but either the records are wrong or the ground’s shifted.”

“Interesting,” Dante murmured.

Tara eyed him for a moment before very deliberately pronouncing a sentence in Irish. Dante had no idea what she’d said - he spoke most of the Romance languages, but not the Celtic ones - but from the way Lok choked, he could make a fairly good guess.

“Thank you,” he said carefully. Tara smiled, bending down for the pile of books at her feet, and he added, “Help you with those?”

“Thank you.” She let him take the books, crossing to a counter at the other end of the shelves. Dante followed, holding the books patiently as she sorted through them.

“Can I assume you just threatened me with something painful if I let anything happen to Lok?” he asked politely, aware of Zhalia standing just behind his shoulder.

“You can. You don’t strike me as the kind of man who needs a warning like that, Dante Vale, and I’m not the type to make good on it…” She looked up, catching his eye. “And I’m fairly sure Zhalia would stop me before I got anywhere near you, but yes. If you hurt Lok, there’ll be trouble.”

“If you know he doesn’t need one and you can’t enforce it anyway, why bother?” Zhalia asked curiously.

“Whatever happened that Lok’s not talking about, it’s pretty serious.” Dante and Zhalia exchanged looks; Tara went on quietly, “I’m not asking. But I know Lok. Something happened, something that’s shaken him up pretty badly, and he’s trying to drag himself back up, to piece himself back together. And knowing that people care about him is important for that.”

“We care about him.” Dante looked over his shoulder; Lok had found the hand puppets and was attacking Sophie with a rhino…or possibly an elephant. It was hard to tell.

“Yes, but you’re tied up with whatever happened.”

“Dante,” Zhalia protested, but he waved her down.

“I told you, I know Lok. He loves Sandra and Cathy, but he doesn’t just come home for no reason. Something’s wrong with him, and he’s come to surround himself with the things he knows, to remember who he is.”

Dante nodded slowly as she took the last book from him. “That’s more or less what I thought.”

“Dante…”

He shook his head, and Zhalia fell quiet.

Lok darted between them, swinging Tara around and holding her in front of himself as Sophie pursued him with the puppet in her hands. “Tara, help me!”

“You break it, you buy it, Curly.”

He twisted away, looking utterly betrayed, and held the expression for almost three seconds before breaking down into laughter again. “Spoilsport,” he managed between laughs.

“Uh-huh. You know, for an Irish boy living in Italy, you manage to sound very American at times.”

“English, Tara, my father’s English.”

“Yeah, but you’re a good Irish boy.” She reached out as though to touch his face; he backed into Dante, looking oddly alarmed, but she ignored the move to straighten a book on the shelf behind him. “Is that one of ours?”

Lok glanced down at Cherit, doing his best to lie limp in his arm. “No. I had Cherit with me.”

“Cherit,” she repeated. “Huh. How long can you stay?”

“Um. Right now? Not very. My mom’s expecting us. When are you finished?”

“Half past six,” she said with a sigh. “At least it’ll be bright.”

Lok nodded. “Hey, Sophie, do you have that package I asked you to carry for me?”

“You mean the…yes. Of course.” Sophie took a small parcel out of her bag, passing it to him with a frown. Dante turned away, examining the nearest shelf with apparent interest, and Zhalia wandered off towards the counter at the far end of the floor. Sophie turned away to hang the puppet neatly back on its’ stand, taking Cherit from Lok on her way.

“Subtle people, your friends,” Tara said, bemused.

“Yeah, they’re the best.”

“Well, Dante could be better. I find it hard to believe he needs a book about how to deal with puberty. Unless it’s for you, of course.”

Dante quietly put the book back and moved down a few steps to the fiction section; Lok grinned, dismissing him and offering Tara the parcel. “I got you something.”

“Yeah? What’s the occasion?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “No occasion. Tara…”

“Don’t tell me,” she said quietly. “I think you probably shouldn’t, whatever it is.”

“No. Open it?”

She tore the paper off with the enthusiasm of a three year old, and he laughed as he tried to catch the scraps. Inside was the box holding the small ring.

“Ooh, rose quartz! My favourite. Thank you, Curly.” She grinned, slipping the ring onto her little finger.

Lok took her hand, twisting the ring so the stone lay against the inside of her finger. “If something happens,” he said very softly, and his eyes were very dark, “think of me.” And he closed her fingers into a fist over the stone.

“Lok,” she said shakily, “what exactly have you gotten into?”

“You just said not to tell you.”

“Yeah, but now I’m really scared.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“For you,” she interrupted him. “I’m scared for you, Lok.”

“I’m alright,” he promised her. “Honest, Tara. Dante and the others…I’m safe, I promise.”

Tara looked from him to Dante, who’d turned from the shelf to watch them. The two girls were standing near the door, eyes on the conversation, but she knew they couldn’t hear anything.

She held up her hand, still closed into a fist. “Think of you, right?”

“Right.”

“Ok, then.” She raised her voice. “Mr Vale, I’ll ask you to make sure Lok doesn’t run off back to Venice…or your dig, I guess…without coming back to see me again.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dante promised.

“But you know Lok,” Zhalia said lazily. “Stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking!” Lok protested, spinning away from Tara. The darkness in his eyes had vanished as he advanced on them, and Tara smiled in quiet satisfaction.

Dante touched her hand, brushing a finger over the ring. “It might help him,” he murmured, “if you don’t take that off for a while.”

Tara shook her head. “I didn’t plan to.”

“She seems nice,” Sophie said casually as they walked.

“Tara? Yeah. I’ve known her forever.”

She lowered her voice, glancing back to Zhalia and Dante behind them. “Lok, do you really think she might be in danger?”

“Cathy and Tara are the only people I have who aren’t part of the Foundation,” Lok said evenly. “Cathy lives at home, and the Foundation have protected the house because of Mom and Dad. Rouge Seekers would find it very hard to get her. But Tara and I stuck together all through school; it’s easy to find her, even looking for me.” He caught Sophie’s look and shook his head. “No. I don’t really think she’s in danger. But just in case…”

“Right,” Sophie agreed. “Just in case.”

“Will she do it, if she is in danger?” Cherit asked. “Will she think of it?”

“Mmm. She knows I wasn’t telling her something. She’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t need to know; she’ll do it just because I asked.”

“Sounds like a very good friend,” Sophie said.

If Lok caught the tone of her voice, he didn’t react. “The best.”

Behind them, Zhalia was frowning. “Dante, Lok came for the mission.”

“Yes.”

“Tara said he came because…” she gestured vaguely.

“Zhalia, we’ve been in the country for half an hour and he’s already more engaged than he has been for days. I think you’re right; between what you told him about Eathon, and what we found – and didn’t find – in Atlantis, he needs a break. He needs to think about it. And he probably needs to talk to his mom.”

“Eathon was the best.”

“Yes. And Lok’s better than him; Lok found the entry to Atlantis and retrieved the Amulet his father spent twenty years looking for. He just needs a little break.”

“Well, let’s hope he gets one this time. Ireland tends to be a little exciting for my tastes.”

Sandra Lambert was just as happy to see them this time as she had been the last time. Cathy was home this time, working on a school project, but she put it aside when they came in.

Dante slipped out to the kitchen to help Sandra with the tea. “Has Scarlett talked to you?” he asked quietly.

“About the Seekers? Yes. That’s why you’re here?”

“Yes. That, and…how much has Lok told you about our missions?”

“Not a lot.”

“Mom, do you need a hand?” Cathy asked, coming in.

“No, sweetheart, Dante’s helping me.”

“How long are you guys staying for? I asked Lok, but he said he didn’t know.”

“We’re not sure yet,” Dante told her. “A few days, anyway.”

“Here, Cathy, bring these out please.” Sandra passed her a tray of glasses. “We’ll be out in a moment.”

Cathy nodded, taking the glasses and heading back into the living room.

“Lok found Eathon’s journal,” Dante said quickly. “We’ve been following his trail, but we lost it on our last mission. Lok’s been a bit…shaken, since then. Guggenheim and I gave him a break, but this mission…he wouldn’t have let us give it to anyone else.”

“No,” Sandra agreed. “You found Eathon’s trail?”

“He was chasing the Amulet of Will.” Sandra nodded; she’d known that much. “He left clues, for Lok, but the Organization found him and he led them away from the Amulet. We’re not sure where he went after that, but he didn’t come back for it.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry,” Dante murmured.

Sandra shook her head. “No, don’t be silly. It’s good to know anything. Do you have the journal now?”

“Lok has it. He never lets it go.”

“I wouldn’t mention it to Cathy. She loves her father, but she never really…”

“I understand,” Dante agreed quietly. “Let me take these out. I’ll ask Lok to come in here, and you can look at it together. We’ll keep Cathy busy for a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Dante.” She smiled gratefully, letting him take the drinks out into the other room.

Lok slipped inside a minute later, Cherit tucked under his sweater. “Hey, Mom. Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine, Lok. Dante tells me you found Eathon’s journal?”

Lok nodded, pulling it out of his bag, and they sat together to examine it.

An old Black Friars cemetary genuinely was dug up recently, but in Waterford City. I've taken the liberty of moving it.

Cathy played hostess quite willingly, but after a while she excused herself to continue her school project. Lok had reappeared by then, and if he was a little red eyed, no one mentioned it.

“What’s the plan, Dante?” he asked, settling on the couch beside Sophie.

“I was hoping to talk to Scarlett. How far is this…Bru na Boínne?” He carefully pronounced it the same way Lok had.

“Bru na Boínne is the proper name for Newgrange and the surrounding area. We were there last time we were home.”

“Right. Pretty far away, then.”

“She wouldn’t get back tonight. But she does have a phone,” Lok reminded him. “And a holotome. Why don’t you call her on that?”

Dante nodded. “I think I’d better. We need to know everything she knows.”

Scarlett wasn’t much help, unfortunately, though she was pleased to see them. “I told Guggenheim everything,” she said apologetically. “Two boys, a girl, a bit older than Lok and Sophie there. They all three had amulets, but only one of them actually called his Titan, and he looked pretty tired afterwards…they’ve not been Seekers long enough to have enough power for what he was doing.”

“Did you recognise the Titan?”

“Deachtaire.”

Sophie’s Cypherdex beeped, displaying the Titan. It looked a little like a fish.

“Special abilities; can rapidly assess battles and adjust its’ own strategy to match,” Sophie read.

“That fits. Deachtaire was the Salmon of Knowledge. Fionn Mac Cumhail used it to gain wisdom, to help him solve problems.” Lok sat back, frowning. “I guess he was a Seeker too.”

“How did Deachtaire end up in a monk’s graveyard?” Zhalia asked, frowning.

“Some of my ancestors were Seekers in this area,” Sandra said from the kitchen doorway. “It’s possible the amulets were buried with them, if no one knew what they were.”

“Many Titans were buried with their Seekers,” Cherit agreed. “Sometimes on purpose, sometimes by accident.”

“Do you recognise the name?” Dante asked, standing to offer her his seat.

“No. At least, only from legends, the same as Lok.” She peered at the holotome’s display. “A powerful Titan.”

“Aye. And the boy didn’t know how best to handle it; that much was clear. These children can throw fire and spells, but they’re not true Seekers.” Scarlett glanced over her shoulder. “I have to go, Dante; my team’s waiting for me.”

“Congratulations,” he said with a smile.

“If I can help, let me know,” she added, and her picture faded out.

“There have been fires in Killarney,” Sandra said quietly.

“Yes. That’s these kids,” Dante agreed. “We need to track them down.”

“What’s wrong?” Cathy asked absently, coming down the stairs.

“Mom was just telling us about those weird fires in Killarney,” Lok told her. “Have you heard anything?”

“Oh, they think there’s some kids lighting them for fun,” she said dismissively. “Mom, I’m going out for a while.”

Lok bit his lip, and Sophie said quickly, “Can I come? I didn’t get to see much of the town last time we were here.”

“We’ll be studying,” Cathy said doubtfully.

“Sophie’s a great student,” Dante said easily. “In fact, she was trying to find out about Fionn Mac Cumhail today. Maybe you could help find her something to read while you’re working?”

“I won’t get in your way, I promise,” Sophie added.

Cathy glanced at Sandra, who nodded. “Alright,” she agreed. “Let’s go, then. We won’t be late, Mom.”

“Alright, dear. Your friend thinks fast,” she added as the door closed, “but is that necessary?”

“Scarlett was attacked,” Dante pointed out.

“Yes, because they knew who she was. They have no reason to attack us.”

“Maybe. Better safe than sorry, though.” Lok looked back at Dante. “What’s the plan?”

“We need to know what we’re fighting, first. This monk’s graveyard?”

“I know where it is.”

“Alright.” He glanced out the window. “It’s late. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“You know where your rooms are,” Sandra said easily. “Lok, can you help me with these?”

“Sure, Mom.” Lok gathered up the empty glasses, following her back into the kitchen.

Cathy and Sophie returned a couple of hours later, Sophie holding a couple of books. Cathy wished them all good night and went straight to bed.

“Find anything?” Dante asked.

“Only more references to Deachtaire, I’m afraid. I’ll go through them more thoroughly tomorrow; perhaps we can figure out what other titans we might be up against. Where’s Lok?”

“With his mom in the kitchen.” Zhalia gestured. “I think they’re looking at the journal.”

“Of course, she hasn’t seen it in ten years,” Sophie said quietly. “What about Cathy?”

“I don’t think Cathy would care as much,” Dante said.

“Why not? If I had something from my father…”

“Cathy remembers her father. She never really was into puzzles, not like Lok, and she doesn’t know about Seekers. The journal wouldn’t mean anything to her, not like it does to Lok.”

Sophie nodded, rising to her feet. “I’ll just say good night.”

“Night, Sophie.”

“Does she think she’s fooling us?” Zhalia asked quietly as the door closed behind her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s that obvious?”

“Dante, Guggenheim probably knows. It’s hard to hide something like that when we spend so much time together.”

“It is, isn’t it,” he murmured, and suddenly she didn’t think they were talking about Lok and Sophie anymore.

Sophie tapped on the kitchen door before stepping inside. “Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say we’re back, and goodnight.”

“You’re not interrupting us, dear,” Sandra assured her. “Lok and I were just catching up. We didn’t get much chance last time he was home.”

“No, of course not.”

“Did you find anything?” Lok asked, rising to clear away the cups they’d been using.

“Not sure yet. I didn’t want to do too much in front of Cathy.”

“Probably wise,” Sandra agreed.

“I’ll look some more in the morning. Good night, Mrs Lambert. Night, Lok.”

“Night, Sophie,” he said over his shoulder.

The site was under guard. Dante and Zhalia walked the perimeter, but it was pretty clear they weren’t getting in. Even Dante’s credentials weren’t enough.

“Now what?” Sophie asked, frowning.

“Now we research,” Dante told her. “Who was buried here, when. I’ll have Guggenheim send us records for any Seeker who died in Ireland.”

“Dante, most of the records for this graveyard have been destroyed,” she protested.

“It’s still the best chance we have.”

“Unless these Seekers just appear out of nowhere,” Lok added.

“Unlikely, Lok.”

“Yeah. Look, there’s a tourist office down that way.” He pointed down the street. “If they don’t have records, they might know who would.”

“Zhalia, you and Lok try there. Take Cherit with you. Sophie and I will go to the local library. Lok, when the monks left this site, do you know where they went?”

“Out of town, I think. I’ll find out.”

“Good. They might have records, too.” Dante turned, following Sophie towards the library.

“We should get going,” Zhalia murmured.

Lok nodded, turning back to look at the shop once more. A boy who’d been standing at the barricade turned away, bumping into him. “Oh! Sorry.”

“No big deal,” Lok assured him, taking a couple of steps back. The boy shifted his weight uncertainly. A year or two older than Lok, he had dark hair and eyes and was well built.

“Kind of creepy, huh?” He gestured vaguely towards the building.

“Yeah, a bit.” He shrugged.

“Oh, well. Makes life interesting, anyway.” The boy half-turned, looking up the street, and Lok frowned, attention caught by a flash near his throat.

“Hey, that’s a cool necklace you’re wearing. Look.” He touched Zhalia’s arm. “You were looking for one like that, weren’t you?”

Zhalia studied the amulet for a moment before nodding. The design matched Deachtaire’s. “Yeah. Where’d you get it?”

The boy had instinctively gripped the amulet. “Oh, I don’t really remember. Just thought it was cool, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Zhalia caught his arm, steering him away from the crowd and into an alley, pushing him into a recessed doorway. Lok followed, keeping an eye on the crowd. “Want to try that again? Where did you get it?”

“Around.” He jerked free of Zhalia, pointedly straightening his clothes. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is you and your little friends have been causing damage. And we’re here to stop you. Where are the other amulets?”

“We have them.”

Lok spun, moving out of Zhalia’s way as she turned. Another boy and a girl were standing behind them, watching them. The girl had brown hair and eyes and was all but hanging off the arm of the boy, who, blond and blue eyed, looked a little like Lok himself. These two were older, though, closer to Zhalia’s age.

“Cherit,” Zhalia murmured, “go find Dante. They can’t have gone far.” Cherit soared straight upwards; the boy eyed him, but they didn’t try to stop him.

“Mark,” the girl said, “come on.”

“We told your friend,” the boy said. “Leave us alone, or we’ll make you.”

Mark stepped out of the doorway, moving around Zhalia. “I would,” he advised them. “Aidan has a temper.”

“Don’t make me prove it,” Aidan added.

Lok shifted, watching Mark rejoin his friends. Neither Aidan nor the girl wore visible amulets, but that didn’t mean anything; he carried most of his in a pocket, and Zhalia rarely wore hers. It didn’t make them any harder or slower to invoke.

“We don’t want to fight you,” Mark said, ignoring the girl’s pout. “We just want you and yours to leave us alone.”

“Can’t do it,” Lok said. “Just hand over your Titans.”

“Titans,” Aidan repeated. “No. Now unless you want to fight us for them right here, turn around and walk away.”

“Lok, come on.” Zhalia caught his sleeve, tugging.

“We can take them!” Lok protested.

“Too many people around. We’ll get them later, come on.”

“Yeah, run away,” Aidan agreed. “Keep an eye out, though. We might come after your Titans next.”

“I wouldn’t,” Dante said from behind them. Aidan turned, looking unimpressed.

“This is your backup? An old man and a girl?”

“There’s only three of you,” Lok pointed out. “And you don’t know what you’re doing. Hand over your Titans and walk away.”

“Tine!” the girl hissed, and a jet of fire shot out of her hand, headed straight for Lok.

“Honourguard!” Zhalia yanked him back behind the shield. “Augurfrost!”

Aidan and Mark were attacking Dante and Sophie, but they weren’t having any more luck. Sophie’s shield held up without effort, freeing Dante to shoot back at them.

“Dante, we can’t fight here!” Zhalia called. The street was temporarily empty, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

“Deachtaire!” Mark called, and the Titan appeared.

“Lok!” Dante ordered.

“Freelancer!”

Deachtaire was technically almost a match for Freelancer, but Mark clearly had no experience guiding him. Freelancer forced him back into the amulet in less than thirty seconds; Mark stumbled backwards, sitting down hard where he stood.

The girl’s attack faltered and dropped; Aidan scowled, wrapping a hand around Mark’s arm to get him back on his feet. “Come on. Deateach!”

Thick black smoke spewed out around him, enveloping all of them. Lok coughed, dropping to one knee and trying very hard not to breathe in. His lungs were as strong as they’d ever get, now, but still not as strong as they had been before he’d drowned, and breathing in smoke like that would probably knock him flat.

Cherit bounced off his head, recovered, and landed on his shoulder. “Lok, you ok?”

He nodded, hoping the Titan would feel it; he didn’t dare take a breath to speak. “It’s clearing up,” Cherit assured him. “Just hang on, Lok.”

The smoke was clearing. Lok eased backwards until he could lean against the wall behind him, finally risking a breath. The smoke tasted horrible, but it didn’t really restrict his breathing any more.

“Lok? You ok?” Dante asked, crouching in front of him.

“Yeah. Just catching my breath. Are they gone?”

“Yeah.” Zhalia was standing at the mouth of the alley, eyeing the crowds. “They’re gone, all right.”

Dante rose, holding out a hand to Lok. “Scarlett was right, they don’t have much control.”

“Mark couldn’t handle Deachtaire at all,” Sophie agreed.

“And yet Deachtaire bonded with him,” Dante said thoughtfully. “He must have ability.”

“You want to go ahead with the plan?” Zhalia asked, coming back to join them.

“Yes. But I’ll go with Lok. You two go to the tourist office. Come on.”

The desk at the tourist office was manned by a guy, who looked up as they came in and smiled. “Ladies.”

“Hi.” Sophie smiled. “We saw them digging in the centre of town, there. What’s going on?”

“Everyone’s asking about that,” he said, sighing in mock boredom. “They dug up an old graveyard by accident.”

“Really? How fascinating!” she cooed. “What kind of graveyard?”

“An old monastic order. They’ve already sent representatives to come and look. I can give you some information about their current monastery if you like.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Who was buried there?” Zhalia asked.

“Monks,” he said, frowning.

“I mean specifically. There must be a list.”

He handed some flyers to Sophie, still eyeing Zhalia. “The monks have a list, yes. It’s not available to the public.”

“Simplemind,” Zhalia murmured.

“Although I don’t see why you can’t see it,” he continued in the same tone. “It’s not really like a secret.”

“Thank you,” Zhalia said politely, taking the list he offered her. “Come on, Sophie.”

“How long does that last?” Sophie asked quietly as they left.

“Only a couple of minutes. He won’t remember us after that.”

Sophie glanced down at the leaflets in her hand. “I don’t suppose we need these.”

“Keep ‘em anyway. They might be useful later.”

When Destiny Calls You 1

Wed, 24 Jun 2009 09:45:29 GMT

This story follows on from Lost and Found and Decisions that you Make but it's not absolutely necessary to read those first.

This is set between Coming of Age and The Golden Asp.

Dante was starting to worry.

He didn’t worry about his team much. In battle there wasn’t time, and they generally didn’t need it anyway; Lok and Sophie had developed into a very effective team, and Zhalia fought beside Dante with a determination that sometimes surprised and sometimes amazed him. Outside of battle, they rarely seemed to need it either. Sophie was self-possessed to the point of isolation; she rarely dwelt on her mistakes, choosing to learn from them and move on. Zhalia…

He’d kept an eye on Zhalia after Vlad’s castle, but when she’d returned to him that rainy day in Venice, she’d seemed easier in herself. The weight she’d carried since the day they’d met was gone, and Metz’ easy acceptance and Lok’s steadfast belief had wiped out any doubts she had left.

Speaking of Lok.

The boy had been sitting at the table for almost three hours, Cherit beside him, working out of a thick text. Dante had assumed it was one of Sophie’s, that he was learning a new power, until she’d told him it was summer homework from the Academy they both attended.

“I didn’t think he’d do it,” she’d added quietly. “I was expecting him to ask for mine to copy.”

Zhalia and Lok both maintained that Zhalia had taken the brunt of the ill-treatment during their captivity in Australia. They agreed that Lok’s pneumonia, while alarming, hadn’t been as serious as it seemed; it was enough to destroy his control over his magic, but not dangerous in any way. On the contrary, he’d played it up at every opportunity to keep Klaus from taking his magic. And both of them, separately, insisted that the other couldn’t have done anything else to protect them. Zhalia agreed that sending Cherit away, though a bad idea at the time, had worked out for the best. And Lok told him how Zhalia had manipulated Klaus into sending for a doctor – indirectly keeping them in Australia long enough for Dante to find them – and how she’d consistently taken punishment herself rather than let them hurt him.

In the wake of her defection back to the Foundation, her protection had come to mean even more; surrounded by the people she’d sworn loyalty to, she’d still stayed by his side, still kept him safe. She could have avoided all her own injuries by simply walking away from him, and she hadn’t.

Dante doubted there was much Zhalia could ask for that Lok wouldn’t do, trying to repay a debt she’d never even acknowledge.

Zhalia, Lok and Cherit were all adamant that apart from a few shoves, and one medically impersonal examination, no one had touched Lok. So none of them could explain why he was so jumpy now. The first time Sophie had cuffed his shoulder – something she’d done a hundred times in the two months they’d known each other – he’d all but fallen over himself to get away from her, and then locked himself in his room for the rest of the day. They’d learned since; none of them touched him now unless they were on a mission, and then only when absolutely necessary.

“Penny for them,” Zhalia murmured, leaning against the wall beside him. Dante tilted his head; Zhalia followed the gesture and sighed. “Lok.”

“Lok,” Dante agreed.

“I wondered why Guggenheim suddenly ran out of missions. Here we have the fabulous Amulet of Will, the one Eathon Lambert spent twenty years searching for, and we haven’t done anything with it yet.”

“Atlantis shook Lok up pretty bad. Guggenheim and I agreed to give him as much of a break as we could.”

“That might be partly my fault,” Zhalia admitted.

“Your fault? How?”

Zhalia glanced at Lok, still bent over his book but probably within hearing range if he’d cared enough to listen, and led Dante into the kitchen. “Lok wanted to know why the Professor wanted him so badly. I messed up, I kept saying ‘you’ instead of ‘us’.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That Eathon Lambert was the best Seeker in his generation, and that you’d taken Lok on because he has the potential to be the best in ours. I didn’t - I know that’s not the only reason you took him on. I just needed him to stop making Klaus so angry.”

She wasn’t looking at him, but she thought Dante sounded mildly amused. “Did he?”

“He stopped talking. It scared me. But I think that’s why, when he realized Eathon had failed…” She fell silent, thinking of the near-rampage Lok had gone on, tearing through Rassimov and his Suits almost without effort.

“Eathon didn’t die in that room,” Dante reminded her. “It’s true he didn’t reach Atlantis, but that doesn’t mean he failed. He moved on, is all.”

“Dante!” Lok called from the other room. “Guggenheim's calling.”

Dante headed back into the living room, sitting down beside Lok. Zhalia stayed in the kitchen doorway, raising a hand in acknowledgement when Guggenheim looked in her direction.

“Hello, Dante. Hope you weren’t in the middle of anything too important. I’ve got a mission I think your team might be able to help with.”

“What is it, Guggenheim?” Dante asked.

“We’ve had some reports from Ireland.” Lok tensed but didn’t speak as he continued, “Specifically from…Killarney. Scarlett Burne has reported what seems to be unaligned Seekers causing havoc there. Unfortunately she is currently in County Meath, at a site called Brugh naw Bone, and she…”

“Bru na Bóinne,” Lok corrected him.

“Er…yes. At any rate, she can’t investigate it herself. She’s officially requested backup, and I thought your team might be the best. Home advantage, and all that.”

Dante glanced at Lok. “Killarney’s pretty near your mother’s home, right?”

“Yeah.” Lok looked down at the table. “Pretty near.”

“So what do you think?”

“What’s the mission?”

“According to Scarlett’s report,” Guggenheim said, “renovations in a disused store unearthed old graves, thought to belong to a local monastic order. Scarlett believes that three, possibly more amulets were also uncovered. She left Brugh…Meath…to recover them, but before she could they were stolen. Since then there have been incidents in the town she believes can be attributed to new Seekers discovering their powers. She battled them once, but they escaped before she could stop them, and she’s had to return to Meath to complete her work there. Besides, this is not really the type of mission she’s suited for.”

“If these new Seekers don’t know what they’re doing, they’re dangerous,” Zhalia said quietly.

“Yes, precisely why we want to find them,” Guggenheim agreed.”

“And do what?” Lok asked.

“Recruit them,” he said, surprised. “A Seeker who figures out how to cast spells on their own is worth recruiting. Oh…Lok.” He looked down, shuffling through his papers. “These Seekers aren’t using the standard terms for their spells. Scarlett included the names she was able to overhear, but they’re in Irish. I’m sending the list to Dante’s Holotome now.”

“We’ll talk to Sophie and let you know what we’re doing,” Dante said. Guggenheim nodded.

“One more thing, Dante. Scarlett was attacked on her way back to Meath; she thinks it was these same Seekers. She and Gybolg fought them off and there’s been no further threats.”

Dante nodded grimly. “She’s alright?”

“Yes. Be careful, Dante. These Seekers are not above trying to get revenge.”

Dante nodded again and Guggenheim’s image vanished.

“Why aren’t they using the normal spells?” Lok asked, frowning.

“They probably are.” Zhalia perched on the coffee table, twisting so she could watch Dante fiddle with his Holotome. “They’re just not using the names we would, because they don’t know them.”

“You and Dante taught me,” Lok said, getting it.

“Right. Metz taught him, and Klaus taught me,” and she ignored or didn’t see Lok’s shudder, “but we’re all working from the Casterwill spell book; he created the first spells.”

“They’re most likely using the same spells,” Cherit added, “but just not the trigger words you would.”

“I knew a Seeker once who yelled ‘Higher!’ every time he wanted to use Hyperstride. It can be useful in combat, because your opponent doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing. Here.” Dante turned the Holotome towards him.

Lok studied the list of words. “That’s fire,” he said after a moment.

“Like fire a gun?” Zhalia asked.

“Nu-uh. Flames.” Still studying the list, he didn’t see the look that passed between Dante and Zhalia. “Jump, throw, smoke…”

“What’s wrong?” Dante asked when he trailed off.

“Scarlett must have heard it wrong. That…” He tapped the word gortaigh. “It just means hurt. It must have been something else.”

He caught the look that time; frowning, he sat back. “What?”

“I’m going to call Sophie,” Dante said, getting up and heading for the kitchen again. Zhalia made a face at him; Lok carefully shut down the Holotome, meeting her gaze when she looked back.

“Something Dante thinks I’m not going to like?”

He even managed to sound only mildly bitter. Zhalia shrugged, pretending not to notice. “Seekers who find their powers that way almost always either burn themselves out, trying to do too much, or they join the Organization.”

“Why?”

“Because a Seeker who finds his power that way starts to think they’re better than everyone. They get power hungry. And if the choice is between the Organization and the Foundation…”

“I guess. They don’t just stay rogue?”

“That’s not usually an option,” she said carefully. “Rogue Seekers are a threat to all of us. If they won’t join – the Foundation usually just takes their Titans away.”

Lok didn’t ask what the Organization did. He knew how far they’d go to protect their secrets.

“Sophie’s on her way,” Dante announced from the doorway. “You guys ready?”

“Dante?” Lok stood, looking oddly nervous. “Killarney’s less than fifteen miles from my mom’s house.”

“I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. Go and get your stuff; we’ll go as soon as Sophie gets here. Maybe your mom would like to see the journal?”

Lok frowned. “Yeah. Come on, Cherit.”

Zhalia waited until his footsteps faded. “Twenty eight thousand square miles in that country and you think it’s a coincidence?”

“No. Last time we were in Ireland, Lok said his mother’s family were from that area.”

“His mother’s a Seeker,” Zhalia said slowly.

“She was. She was good, too; she’d have been a Elite Seeker if she hadn’t quit to raise Lok and Cathy. It’s possible her ancestors left those Titans there.”

Upstairs, Lok zipped up his backpack. Over the last two months he’d got used to travelling light, and since he still had clothes in his mother’s house he was travelling lighter than usual this time. Flopping onto his back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling. “Cherit?”

“Aye, m’boy?”

“How does taking a Titan away stop someone using magic?”

Cherit perched on the bed rail, watching him. “That’s a complicated one.” Lok didn’t answer, and after a moment Cherit continued. “Many people have the ability to use magic. Maybe as many as half the people in the world. But magic is wild and difficult to control. Very few people can master it alone.”

“So Titans help control the magic.”

“Aye, exactly. Titans lend their strength to their Seekers. The more Titans you have, the more control over your magic, the more Titans you can have. In Vlad’s castle, when you lost your Titans, you didn’t cast any spells.”

Lok rolled over onto his front, frowning. “No, I guess not. I didn’t really think of it.”

“You knew instinctively it wouldn’t do any good.”

“I guess. Why did the Organization bother blocking Zhalia’s magic, then? Why didn’t they just take her Titans away?”

“Because she might have gotten her hands on a Titan, taken it from a Suit. And if she’d had her magic, I could have helped her temporarily. Blocking her magic was safer.”

“And more painful,” he muttered.

“Aye. I don’t doubt that was part of it.”

“Lok!” Zhalia called from downstairs. “Sophie’s here!”

“Coming!”

“Ireland again?” Sophie said, when the mission was explained. “And so near your home, Lok!”

“That’s what I said,” he agreed.

“Have you called your mother?”

“No. I figured I’d call her when we find out what flight we’re on.”

“She won’t mind us arriving without warning, will she?” Dante asked, swinging his bag onto his back.

“Nah. Mom loves having people to fuss over. The more the merrier.”

“And Cathy?” Zhalia asked.

“Cathy? Cathy doesn’t care what we do.” He glanced at Cherit. “You’re gonna have to hide a bit, buddy. Cath still doesn’t know about the Foundation.”

“Why doesn’t she know?” Sophie asked. “I think Cathy would be a great Seeker.”

“She’s certainly more studious than Lok,” Zhalia remarked, carefully not meeting their eyes.

Lok mouthed ‘boring’, smiling when Sophie chuckled. “My mom doesn’t want her to feel like she has to join up. She wouldn’t have told me yet either, if I hadn’t found Kipperon. When Cathy finishes college next year we’re going to tell her.”

“That’ll be a fun conversation. ‘So, Cathy, we’re all part of a secret organ…secret group, including your younger brother, and we’re trying to save the world. Want in?’ Don’t see how she could say no.”

“If you were giving that speech, I’d say no,” Sophie told her.

“Studious isn’t always better,” Dante said thoughtfully. “Sometimes it works very well, like with Sophie here. But Eathon and Lok work best on instinct.”

“That’s another way of saying he rushes in without a plan?” Sophie asked, arching an eyebrow.

“What about my mom?” Lok asked interestedly, ignoring Sophie.

“Your mother studied. Much like Sophie, she came from a family of Seekers and knew Titans growing up. She only ever Bonded with four, I believe, and two of them are with the Foundation now. When she left the Foundation she only kept Lunar and Solar.”

“It’s weird thinking about her as a Seeker,” Lok said thoughtfully.

“She was very skilled.” Dante ushered them out, locking the door behind him. “Now we should go, or she’ll be facing down those Seekers by herself.”

“I bet she could handle it,” Lok said brightly.

“I’m sure she could. Let’s not find out.”

Lok was waiting with Sophie while Dante sorted out their tickets. Zhalia was standing nearby, staring at the arrivals board.

“Sophie?” Lok said quietly. “I read about a spell in one of your books, a warning spell. One you can cast and then anyone can trigger, even if they have no magic.”

“Yes, I know the one.”

“Can you cast it?”

“Cast it? Why?”

Lok looked away, frowning. “There’s…I’m worried about someone. This mission? These Seekers went looking for Scarlett after she tried to stop them.”

“Yes, I heard about that,” Sophie agreed. “It’s not a very difficult spell, Lok, you could probably do it. Setting the trigger is the most difficult part.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have time to practise it right now. Please?”

“Alright. Do you have something to use as an anchor?”

Lok swung his backpack off, lifting Cherit out and digging through it. Zhalia wandered towards them, pausing.

“Forget something?”

“No. Sophie’s just going to show me a little spell.”

“Here?” Zhalia raised an eyebrow, looking around.

“It’s a very subtle spell, Zhalia, it won’t attract any attention,” Sophie promised. Lok offered her a small ring, set with a pale pink stone, and she nodded. “That’ll do. What’s the trigger?”

“I am.”

Sophie studied him for a minute before nodding. “Alright.”

“What’s the spell, Lok?” Zhalia asked.

“It’s a warning,” he said distractedly, watching Sophie murmur. “If someone holds the ring and thinks of me, I’ll know.”

“Why?” She touched Lok’s arm, turning him to face her.

“Because these Seekers are working fifteen miles from my home, Zhalia.” He pulled free of her, turning back to Sophie. Cherit, looking worried, flew up to Zhalia’s shoulder.

“There.” Sophie closed her fingers over the ring; Lok winced, one hand going to his head. “It’s working.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s best if I hold on to it for a while,” she added when he reached for it. “While the spell settles.”

Lok passed her the box for it, glancing up as Dante joined them. “Everyone ready?”

Choices that you Make

Wed, 17 Jun 2009 10:25:52 GMT

A brief interlude taking place during 'A Vampire Loses its Fangs'.

”The target is no longer only Dante Vale. His entire team must be eliminated!”

Zhalia made a vague effort to search. It didn’t matter; they wouldn’t find Klaus, or Vlad’s Titans, until Klaus was ready for them to. In case Dante came looking for her, though, she had to appear to be searching.

Gareon had followed Lok and Sophie, hiding when he could, vanishing when he had to. Through the Bond she caught flashes of what they were doing, enough to keep track of them.

When Lok fell through the secret door Zhalia abandoned her search, heading down to the dungeons.

‘Another hour and I’ll be done with this. I’ll be back with the Organization, where I belong.’

Where they hurt you for fun, or because you’ve refused an order, her inner voice added. Where you can never trust anyone, ever.

Annoyingly, her inner voice sounded a lot like Lok.

‘Klaus is the only person in the world who believed in me,’ she thought fiercely.

Dante believes in you. Believed in you from the start. And his team took you in.

‘Oh yeah. Sophie really loves me.’

Sophie fights alongside you.

Zhalia shook her head, suddenly realising she’d stopped moving, completely absorbed in her internal argument. She started forward again, pushing a gentle enquiry through the Bond.

Good. Lok and Sophie were still wandering around. Really, she was doing the Foundation a favour; those kids were far too easily distracted to be Seekers.

Good enough to beat DeFoe, the voice popped up again. And Grier.

‘DeFoe’s not a challenge and Grier stood aside and let them pass. I’d be dead on the streets of Prague right now if it wasn’t for Klaus. Where was the Foundation when I was starving?’

Klaus made you into a weapon. If you go back to him now, that’s all you’ll ever be. A weapon for him to use against anyone he chooses.

‘I’d die for him.’

Would you kill for him?

Zhalia pressed herself against the wall, shaking. Where had that…

But she knew where that had come from. She knew what it would mean if she went back to Klaus, what being his favourite meant.

Will you kill for him? the voice insisted.

‘Yes.’

Her inner voice didn’t speak. It didn’t have to.

Lok yelled in alarm, somewhere just out of sight, and she slipped around the corner. He was holding Vlad’s Titans, but, true to form, he’d also triggered some kind of trap. Sighing, she stepped out of hiding and gestured them to hurry up, trying to figure out how to spin this. She couldn’t fight both of them and their Titans; they were too strong together. She needed to separate them somehow.

Separate them…yes.

“That trap homes in on whichever Seeker nearby holds the strongest amulets,” she said quickly. “And that’s me.”

Predictably, Sophie bristled. “How do you know whose Titans are the most powerful? It could target Lok or me while you’re trying to distract it!”

Poor Sophie was far too easy to manipulate. She was right, of course, not to trust Zhalia; but it made her too easy to predict.

“Let’s ditch our amulets,” Lok suggested brightly. “If we’re not wearing them, we shouldn’t register on the skull trap’s hit list, right?”

Zhalia smiled mentally. He made it far too easy.

Will you kill for him? the voice asked again, quieter now.

‘Yes.’

And to prove it she spun, taking out Lok with her strongest Augurfrost. He crashed hard into the nearest wall and collapsed, wheezing in a breath. Zhalia resolutely refused to regret it; protective instincts born in Australia were screaming at her, but Lok was too unpredictable, too dangerous not to take out first. Sophie was easy by comparison; right now, she was going to…

“Lok! No!”

Cry over Lok for a second, and then attack.

Sophie spun on her, fury in her eyes. “I never trusted you, but I didn’t think you’d do something like that to Lok!”

“I’m full of surprises,” Zhalia said carelessly, trying to ignore the crumpled form behind Sophie. “So what are you gonna do? Your Titans are all locked away.”

“I’m full of surprises too! Attack, Sabriel!”

‘Blast your suspicious mind!’ Zhalia took a step back, quickly rethinking. She could probably take Sophie in a straight fight; Sophie’s bloodline gave her power, but Zhalia had experience and desperation on her side.

“I still have every one of my Titans! All it required was a simple sleight-of-hand.”

“Actually, I was hoping we’d get to fight.” ‘This is it.’ “One on one, Sophie.” ‘There’s no turning back now.’ “Kilthane!”

“I never trusted you! But I didn’t think you’d do something like that to Lok!”

“I’m full of surprises. So what are you gonna do? Your amulets are all locked away.”

“I’m full of surprises too! Attack, Sabriel!”

Lok struggled to sit upright, aware from the tone of the girls’ voices that something was very wrong. Being thrown into the wall had shocked lungs that would never be as strong again, and he was having trouble catching his breath.

“Actually, I was hoping we’d get to fight, one on one, Sophie.”

“Zhalia versus Sophie?” he murmured. “Am I dreaming?”

“So you’re part of the Organization?” Sophie spat.

Zhalia shrugged. “Life is about power. And the Organization is about getting power. That’s why we will always dominate.”

“No,” Lok breathed. Not Zhalia, how can that possibly…

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t concentrate on the fight. Zhalia had saved him from the Organization, had protected him at the cost of her own injuries, and now…

“Life’s not about getting power, Zhalia. It’s about how you choose to use it.”

“Then let’s put it to use. Attack!”

He managed to focus on the fight; Sophie was going for it, trying to hurt Zhalia, but the older girl was holding back. She could have taken Sophie down by now if she’d wanted to.

“I can’t let them hurt each other…” He struggled upwards, leaning heavily against the wall.

“Doublespell! Raypulse!”

“What? No!” Zhalia ducked backwards, but not fast enough; Sophie would kill her…

“Sophie, don’t hurt her!” Lok cried.

Sophie’s eyes flickered to his for a moment. It was all the time Zhalia needed; she was gone before Sophie looked back, vanished into the shadows of Vlad’s dungeon.

“Sophie, you’ve missed your one chance!”

Sophie turned, searching, and caught a flicker of movement. “No I haven’t. Boltflare!”

“Sorry, little girl.” Zhalia was behind her, energy humming in her hand. “But that was an illusion created by my Thoughtspectre power!” She flung the energy, knocking Sophie off her feet.

“Sophie!” Lok doubled over when he tried to move, unable to hold himself up. “I can’t…I’ve got no Titans…”

Sophie was unconscious on the floor, unable to fight Zhalia’s Mindsight and Shadowspeed. “Now I’ll put you out of my misery!” Zhalia hissed.

“Zhalia!”

Lok shoved off the wall, not caring about his injuries, not caring about his lack of power. All he could think was that Zhalia couldn’t hurt any of them. Whatever was going on, whatever she was doing, if she hurt them now he knew she’d never be able to come back from it. She’d lose herself to the darkness forever.

“Venomhand!”

“No!” Lok threw himself over Sophie, staring wide-eyed at Zhalia. “Don’t do this!”

“Lok, get out of the way!”

“No! Zhalia, no!”

She punched the ground furiously, letting the power drain away. “Lok…”

“You can’t hurt her.” Lok risked sitting up, watching her warily. “Zhalia, what are you…”

“Klaus is my father,” she spat. “He wants you gone.”

“He’s not your father,” Lok said without thinking.

“He saved me! He gave me a chance when no one else would.”

For the one who saved you, you’d do anything…he didn’t make it easy, but he gave me a chance…

Lok grimaced as the various things she’d said came together. “Oh, Zhalia…”

“Shut up. I don’t want pity from you.” She shoved him backwards, knocking him over and jarring him hard enough to interrupt his breathing again. “I can never repay him. But I’ll do what he asks.”

“You didn’t do what he asked in Australia,” Lok wheezed, picking himself up again.

“In Australia he…” Zhalia cut herself off, glowering.

“In Australia, he wanted to hand us over to the Professor,” Lok supplied quietly. “You’d rather see us dead?”

“You’d rather be dead,” she muttered halfheartedly. “Get up.”

“Why?”

“Just get up! And get her up, too.” She gestured vaguely to Sophie, still unconscious beside him.

“Zhalia…”

“I’m not going to kill you. Just get up and come over here.”

“Lok, be careful!” Cherit called helplessly from the sealed-off alcove.

Lok followed Zhalia’s instructions, letting her tie them to the wall. “Why are…”

“Because Klaus really will kill you.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “And I can’t bring myself to do it. You’re such an idiot, Lok Lambert, you know that?”

“I was right about you.”

“You were stupid. Any other Suit would have just taken you both out.”

“Yeah. But you’re not a Suit. I’m not afraid of you, Zhalia, and I never will be.”

“We’ll see.” She stripped Sophie’s amulets, dropping them into a pocket, and then stood. “Recall Freelancer.”

“I don’t have his amulet.”

“He’s still yours. Recall him.”

“Freelancer, return!” Lok couldn’t quite see him, but the flare of light threw shadows on the opposite wall.

“Cherit, give me Lok’s amulets.”

“Cherit, do it,” Lok said loudly.

Zhalia came back and crouched in front of him, amulets in hand. “You really are an idiot, Lok.”

“I don’t think you’ll keep them very long.”

“You’re right. I’ll be giving them to Klaus in a matter of moments.”

“Maybe. You’ll have to go through Dante, though.”

Zhalia flinched, lowering her head. “Yeah. Goodbye, Lok.”

“See you later, Zhalia.”

She laughed softly as she left. He really does never give up. Silly little boy.

“She said she couldn’t bring herself to hurt us after witnessing my major stupidity.” Lok shrugged, looking down.

“Jumping between us was bravery, not stupidity,” Sophie told him.

“Don’t forget, Lok, it played a part in bringing Zhalia back to her senses,” Dante added.

“It’s weird,” Sophie said reflectively. “Now that I know everything Zhalia went through, I kind of want to forgive her.”

“Aye, her life was a hard one at that,” Cherit agreed.

“But in the end, she came through for us. I won’t forget that.” Lok sat back.

“Thank you.” Zhalia stepped from the shadows. “That means a lot. I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“You know, you don’t have to do that,” Cherit said hopefully.

“You heard everyone. We forgive you,” Sophie added. Zhalia smiled faintly – talk about words you never thought you’d hear…

“But I can’t forgive myself.” She looked down, unable to meet their eyes - Dante, who’d trusted her even as she stood over him ready to kill; Sophie, who’d accepted her apology before she’d even made it; and Lok, who’d never stopped believing in her, even as she broke his trust.

“It’s alright,” Dante said gently. “We understand.”

“See you,” she murmured, letting her projection fade out.

As she vanished, she heard Lok say, “Whatever she says, Zhalia’s still a part of our team. She’ll be back. I know it.”

The boy never gives up…

Lok stood up after a few minutes, wandering into the kitchen. Cherit looked after him, frowning, but it was Dante who followed him.

“Lok? You ok?”

“She protected me. In Australia, she….she didn’t have to do that, Dante.”

“No, she didn’t,” he agreed. “That may have been Klaus’ plan.”

“Klaus wants me. He had me. There was no reason to keep it up.” He glanced up, catching Dante’s look. “What?”

“You don’t have to worry about Klaus anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Zhalia took care of him.”

“Zhalia fought him off for us?”

“Yeah.”

“She called him her father.” Lok looked away, unable to hold Dante’s gaze. “I wish she hadn’t had to do that.”

“Me too. But she made her choice, Lok.”

“You think she’ll come back to us?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“So do I. She belongs here.”

Dante squeezed his shoulder before heading back to the living room. Lok could hear them speaking – Sophie questioning, Cherit high and worried, Dante reassuring – but the words were lost to the distance and the door closing. He glanced towards the window as movement caught his eye.

Zhalia was standing there.

Lok took a step forward, reaching to touch her, but she shook her head. “Don’t.”

“Come back.”

“Maybe. One day.” She glanced over her shoulder at something he couldn’t see. “I have to…there are things to do first. To make it right, if I can.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to us,” Lok said fiercely.

“Not you. Me. I need to, Lok, or I’ll never be able to let it go.”

“But you’ll come back, right?”

“I’ll try,” she promised. “You’re a good man, Lok Lambert.”

“You’re a good woman, Zhalia Moon.” He laughed suddenly. “Is that your real name?”

“Yeah. That’s my real name.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled. “See you soon, Lok.” And then she was gone, leaving him alone in the brightly lit kitchen.

Lok smiled and went to find his friends.

Against a Stone, 3/3

Tue, 16 Jun 2009 21:14:19 GMT

Title: Against a Stone
Author: fandomlver
Rating: 12A
Genre and/or Pairing: Angst
Spoilers: General for S4. Set somewhere between 4.10 and 4.16, but no episode specific spoilers.
Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst. Also, my first ever fic. Critique gladly accepted.
Word Count: 1981 / 6752
Summary: Written from a prompt on this comm. Castiel pays for his friendship with Dean.

“Dean?” Ruby tapped on the door, leaning around it.

“Coming. Cas, I’ll be right back.”

“Careful. I might vanish if you leave me alone.”

Dean ignored him, stepping outside to join Ruby and pulling the door almost closed.

Two days had passed since Uriel’s attack. Cas was struggling; with no experience of emotions, he couldn’t control himself and it made everything so much harder. He wasn’t eating, he wouldn’t drink anything but water, he couldn’t sleep.

Dean had basically locked them in the room and was trying to wait him out. His rib was keeping him more or less in one place anyway, and Cas wasn’t physical; he barely even raised his voice, even when he was angry. His anger never lasted long, anyway, washed away by the next emotion to claim him.

“Sarcasm,” Ruby observed. “He’s obviously feeling better.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to look at it. What’s up?”

Ruby looked away. “I have to go, for a while.”

“And you’re telling me because...”

“Cas was an angel, Dean. Any demon can tell. They’ll be coming, they won’t be able to resist. An angel you can kill?”

“No one’s killing him,” Dean said automatically.

“I’m going to lay some false trails. So to speak. Keep your hex bags on. Here, I made one for Cas.” She tossed him the little pouch. “Sam can find me if you need me.”

“Right.” Dean weighed the bag for a moment. “Thanks.”

She glanced past him at the door. “How’s he doing?”

Dean laughed softly. “He’s doing ok. I mean, he’s got no emotional control and he doesn’t know how to do anything, but apart from that...”

“His body should know how to do things.”

“Yeah, it did, but he’s...blocking it, or forgetting, or something. Go lay your trails. We’ll work it out.”

Ruby nodded, turning away.

“Dean?”

Cas was standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, Cas. I’m coming. Here, Ruby made this for you.” He tossed the hex bag; Cas caught it, studying it for a moment before looking up.

“Where are you going?”

“To draw some heat off you guys.”

“Heat,” he repeated slowly.

“I won’t be long. A day or two.”

She turned to leave and he took a step forward, suddenly looking worried. “Wait...”

“I can’t, Cas, I have to go. Here.” She took the hex bag from him, looping it over his head. “Don’t take this off, ok? I’ll be back in a couple days.”

Cas nodded, fingering the bag as she turned away. Sam was standing in the door of his room; she glanced at him as she passed, but she didn’t stop.

“Sam,” Dean said quietly. “Can you...”

“Dean Winchester.”

He turned, eyeing the blonde behind him. “ ‘Scuse me?”

“Dean,” she repeated. “I am Armatt.”

“Angel of wisdom, truth and goodness,” Cas supplied from the door.

“You’re twelve.”

Armatt looked down at herself. “The vessel was quite young, yes, but I am not intended to enter combat. Only to guide you.”

“You’re twelve!”

“I believe the vessel was sixteen.”

“Dean,” Cas said quietly. “She’s telling the truth.”

Dean caught her arm, yanking her towards the room. Cas retreated as they came in, Sam carefully closing the door and standing in front of it.

“Armatt, huh.” Dean let go, stepping back to join Cas. “Were you in the barn, Armatt?”

“No.” She shook her head quickly. “I was not corporeal at the time.”

Dean looked to Cas, who nodded. “Armatt is...you might call it ‘reserves’. I was unaware she had been dispatched.”

“You guys have reserves?” Sam demanded. “We’re losing Seals left right and center, and you have reserves? How badly do we have to lose for them to be called up?”

“No. Armatt is a...special case.” Cas sat abruptly, bracing both hands against the mattress. Dean half-turned, watching him concernedly, but Armatt was speaking before he could say anything.

“Two thousand years ago I almost Fell,” she explained. “I was removed from this world, never to return, but...I spoke in Castiel’s favor, before his fate was decided. When you refused Zadkiel, I was called in.”

“They choose an angel who almost Fell to deal with the man who’s already made one Fall?” Cas laughed. “You must really have scared them, Dean.”

“I’m not supposed to fight,” Armatt explained. “They think dealing with Dean alone won’t be enough. And I’m to report to Zadkiel; he’ll make sure I’m not behaving...inappropriately.”

“And Sam? What about him? You gonna attack him?” Dean asked.

Armatt turned to look at Sam. “You protect the Seals, Sam?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then there is no conflict. We can work together.”

“And Ruby?”

“Yes, and Ruby. Where is she?”

“Not here,” he said shortly. “She’ll be back.”

“One more thing.” Dean took a step to one side. “You look Cas in the eye and acknowledge what’s been done.”

Armatt nodded. “Zadkiel was cruel—though I don’t believe that was his intention.” She moved past Dean, kneeling easily in front of Cas. “It’s not worth much, Castiel, but I am sorry for what’s been done to you.”

Cas nodded slowly and she knelt up, leaning forward until her forehead brushed his. She whispered very softly to him; Dean frowned, unable to hear the words.

Cas smiled, though, so whatever she was saying, she wasn’t upsetting him. Dean watched, twitchy at having anyone that close to him, but as long as Cas was alright with it...

Sam moved, coming to join Dean. “Deep breaths,” he murmured. “He’s fine.”

“Right,” Dean muttered.

Armatt rose, inclining her head to Cas before stepping away. “Now, Dean Winchester, can we be allies?”

“Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas blinked as though surprised before nodding. “Yes. Armatt is a good choice, though subordinate to Uriel and Zadkiel.”

“We won’t be talking to them,” Dean told him. “That’s the deal,” he added when Armatt started to protest. “We deal with you, and that’s it.”

“I will do my best,” she promised.

“You do that.” Sam opened the door, glaring pointedly at her.

“They want you to leave,” Cas told her.

“Oh! Very well.” Armatt moved past them. “Until next time.”

Sam closed the door on her, looking back at Cas. “She’s the best choice they have?”

“Armatt almost Fell for love of the human race. Had she been left in her assignment she would certainly have Fallen. She’ll be watched, but she is the most—sympathetic, the most likely to be able to work with Dean.”

“You’re shaking,” Dean noted. “You ok?”

“Yes. No,” he corrected himself. “I could—sense her. Sense Armatt, within the vessel. It felt like...” he gestured helplessly. “Your language is so imprecise. I cannot explain how it felt.”

“Yeah, language is like that,” Sam agreed. “It feel like something crawling over your skin, inside, where you can’t get at it?”

Cas pointed at him. “Yes. Like that. How did you know?”

Sam shook his head. “Lucky guess.”

“Sam?” Dean said warily.

“It’s nothing. Here.” Sam tossed Cas the water bottle. “Drink this.”

“I should go,” Cas murmured.

“Go?” Dean repeated. “Where’d that come from?”

He gestured vaguely. “Armatt will not be able to keep the others away. Most of them dislike you already; they will not look kindly on you for helping me.”

“Screw ‘em. Drink your water.”

“Dean.” Cas stood, planting himself in front of the brothers. “You know you can’t stay out of the war, and I am useless.”

“You’re not useless. You’re Cas.”

“My name aside, I cannot fight. I cannot tell you what’s coming. I cannot sense the Seals. I can’t help you.”

“We’re not keeping you around because you’re useful, Cas,” Sam told him. “We’re keeping you because we want you to be here. And, honestly? You need help right now, and we’re all you have.”

Cas dropped his gaze. “This is obligation.”

“No, this is family,” Sam corrected him.

“No, this is me barfing,” Dean muttered. “Cas, sit down and drink your water, ok? We’ll talk about this when you’re not about to collapse.”

Cas did sit, and he even took a sip of the water. “I’ve spent so long protecting you, Dean.”

“Yeah, and you’ve paid. Our turn.”

Sam caught Dean’s eye, stepping away towards the door. “He’s right,” he said quietly. “Armatt might like us right now, but sooner or later there’ll be a mission or a hunt, and he’s not in any shape.”

“Yeah, well, right now I’m worried about getting him on his feet. Look, can you do a dinner run? We really need to get some food into him.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Cas, you got any dinner requests?”

“No.”

Sam grimaced, turning to go.

Dean followed him to the doorway. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“Something crawling on your skin?”

Sam shrugged, looking oddly guilty. “It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s something. Why is that the first thing that occurs to you?”

He grimaced, stepping away from the door. “Because that’s how I feel when Cas is in the room.”

“Cas is setting off your supernatural radar? He’s not an angel anymore!”

“I know. But Ruby said the demons would be able to sense him.”

“Yeah, demons, Sam.” Sam gestured pointedly and Dean sighed. “Yeah, alright. You feel it from Armatt too?”

“Yeah, Armatt, Uriel, Zadkiel, all of them. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just there. I pretty much ignore it now.”

“You get anything from demons?”

“No. Just angels.”

“Right.” Dean sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “Well, between you we’ll know if Junkless is spying on us, I guess.”

Dean let himself back into the room, locking the door behind him and dropping onto his own bed.

No, this is family.

Cas woke, startled to hear Sam’s words again so clearly. Dean was already awake, watching him warily. “You ok?”

“Yes. I’m…I believe I was dreaming.” He frowned, thinking. “Why do you dream, Dean?”

“Beats me. Don’t you know?”

“No. Angels know so little of what it is to be human.” He sat up, reaching for the bottle of water on the bedside table. “Dean.”

“Hmm.”

“This is not obligation?”

“Jesus, Cas. Jump a guy while he’s asleep, why don’t you?” He levered himself upright, scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“Sam’s right,” Cas said reflectively. Dean sat, watching him; they had to hash this out, but not until Cas knew exactly what he was asking. “I’ve nothing but you. But if you’re helping me only because you think you must, or should…I can’t do anything to help you, Dean, but my presence can bring you great harm.”

Dean reached for the bottle of water, taking a mouthful. “Cas…”

“I would leave, Dean.”

“Yeah. I know you would. That’s not the problem. Look, I’m grateful for what you did for Sammy. And I’m sorry you lost your wings. But this, this is not obligation, Cas. If you want to leave, we’ll find you somewhere. But you’re welcome here, if you want to stay.”

“Demons will sense me.”

“Demons know where we are all the time. You’re not adding anything.” He gestured to the hex bag. “Keep that thing on, we’re fine.”

“I don’t…know how to be a man.”

Dean sighed, taking another mouthful before passing the bottle back. “We can work on that. First lesson; humans make choices, all the time. Do you want to stay here, Cas?”

“Here?” Cas glanced around the room.

“With us.”

“Yes. I want to stay with you.”

“Alright. There’s a choice right there. See? You’re getting the hang of it already.”

Cas smiled suddenly. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, no sweat. Now get some rest. We’re checking out tomorrow.”

“Where are we going?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Bobby’s, maybe, till we get a handle on things. We’ll see in the morning.”

Cas leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “I think we should go west.”

Dean frowned, watching him. “West? Why?”

“Because…because. It’s a choice.”

“Yeah.” Dean flipped off the light, listening as Cas’ breathing evened out. “Yeah, it’s a choice.”

Lost and Found, Chapter 5

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 11:56:52 GMT

We've reached the end of the story, I'm afraid! But never fear; next week is an interlude, then it's on to the second story. And I'm working on an AU...this series gets in your head, I swear...

I'm still looking for a beta, if anyone's interested.

“How’s your friend?” Haki asked.

“Worn out, poor thing.” Sophie folded the map back up. “He’s been flying all day.”

“Cherit’s not really built for long distance flying,” Dante agreed, joining them. “Sophie, can I see that?”

Sophie handed over the map. “Is he alright?”

“He’s resting. Here.” He tapped the map. “That’s where he came from.”

“It’s along the river,” Haki said, studying it. “It’s only about another hour away. Is he sure?”

“He’s sure. Can you call Stefan?”

“Yeah. Let me get the sat phone.”

“How did he know where we are?” Sophie asked.

“He didn’t. He’s been trying to avoid the Organization. He dodged them about ten minutes ago and started towards Perth, looking for the Foundation safe house there.”

“And we just happened to be in the way. Poor Cherit.”

“Lucky for us, though.”

Haki came back, offering Dante the sat phone. “Stefan? Dante. Listen, how fast can you get your Seekers into position?”

The sun was starting to go down again. Zhalia’s body clock was finally realigning; it only felt like she’d been up for a day instead of two or three.

“Lok, your pills,” she murmured.

Lok, curled on his side, didn’t respond. Zhalia sighed, picking up their last water bottle and crossing to sit on the bed.

“Lok,” she said more firmly. “Take your pills.”

He took the pills obediently, dry swallowing them and waving away the water she offered. “You really should be drinking more,” she protested.

He still didn’t answer, curling into a tighter ball. Sighing, she hauled on his shoulder until he unfolded enough that she could touch his forehead.

“Lok, you’re burning up. You need to drink this.”

Grier shoved the door open, carrying a tray. “Dinner.”

Zhalia took the tray from him, grimacing. “I see we’re getting the gourmet menu.”

“Food’s much better on this side of the door.”

“Yeah, but the view’s better over here.”

He scowled, tossing two more bottles of water on the bed before stomping back out again.

“Looks like cheeseburgers and chips,” Zhalia told Lok. “Sit up and eat something.”

Lok rolled over again, pulling the blanket up over his head.

Zhalia grimaced, pushing the tray aside. “Lok…”

Noise filtered in from outside and she paused, crossing to look out the window.

“Boltflare! Honourguard!” Sophie rolled to her feet next to Dante, glancing around.

She’d never seen a fight on such a huge scale. The Seekers outnumbered the Suits, but the Suits were defending rather than attacking and thus had the advantage. Titans romped around, threatening their owners as often as the enemy, and the lights from attacks cast the whole field in strange colours.

Santiago appeared next to her, scanning the field. “Dante! If you and Sophie cover me, I believe I can get inside. There’s a gap in their lines.”

“I see it,” Dante agreed. “Grier is inside, though, and he’s dangerous.”

“I’ll go,” Sophie said. “I’m faster than you,” she added when Santiago started to protest.

“Be careful,” Dante warned her. “Ready?”

“Quite. Sabriel, let’s go!”

Grier was alone in the main room, fiddling with the lock on one of the doors. Breaker’s amulet was in his hand, but he hadn’t invoked him.

“Hey!” Sophie yelled. Grier spun, staring at her. “I thought we left you on Sutos Island!”

“Appearances can be deceiving,” Grier snarled. “Augurfrost!”

“Honourguard!”

The room was too small for him to summon Breaker. Sophie sent a Boltflare at him, examining the room. The door behind Grier was the only one locked, and there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the building.

Grier charged her; Sophie waved Sabriel back, ducking under Grier’s blow. Sabriel immediately engaged him, freeing Sophie to slip past and unlock the door.

Zhalia was standing next to the door, a wooden board clutched in her hands. Lok, eyes dull and empty, was hunched on the floor next to her.

“Lok!” Sophie dropped to the floor beside him. “Are you alright?”

Lok didn’t answer; his eyes drifted shut, and Sophie looked up at Zhalia. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but I have no magic. What’s going on?”

“Everyone else is still outside…Honourguard!”

Grier burst in; Zhalia swung the board, catching him in the stomach. Sophie yanked at Lok’s shoulders, pulling him further away from the door. Grier doubled up, groaning, and Sabriel came in behind him, blade ready.

“Stop her!” Zhalia yelled at Sophie, who waved Sabriel back. “Grier, go outside. Join the fight out there.”

“Those Foundation Seekers will never defeat us,” Grier spat.

“Then it doesn’t matter which side of the door you’re standing on. You want to sit in here and babysit the kids, or you want to go out there and defeat Dante Vale?”

Grier scowled, backing out the door. Sabriel followed him into the main room, setting herself on guard at the door.

Sophie went back to her knees beside Lok. “Lok, are you alright?”

“He’s sick,” Zhalia told her, going back to the window. “Is that Santiago?”

“Yes. Cherit found us a little while ago.”

“The little Titan did it?” Zhalia smiled, impressed despite herself.

“It wasn’t your idea?”

“Lok’s. Can you seal that door?”

Sophie nodded, sitting back on her heels and concentrating. She murmured the spell under her breath; Zhalia ignored it, leaning out the window to catch Dante’s eye. He nodded when he saw her, turning to wave to the other Seekers.

“Step it up!” he yelled.

Several of the Suits tried to retreat towards the building; Dante, Santiago and three or four other Seekers somersaulted over their heads, cutting them off. The battle quickly descended into a rout; even Grier couldn’t save them, and the Organization fighters were soon unconscious or under guard.

Dante and Santiago hurried into the building; Sophie’s spell was still holding, but she dropped it when Santiago called her. Santiago knelt beside her and Dante went to Zhalia, touching her shoulder lightly.

“Are you alright?” he asked, studying her. The bruises on her jaw and throat were vivid against her skin, and there were traces of blood still under her nose and ear.

“I’m fine.” She leaned against him for a moment, gathering her strength.

“Cherit says Klaus blocked your magic. Do you know how?”

“Is he here?” She glanced at the window.

“No. He got away before we could stop him. Zhalia, do you know what he did?”

“Yeah.” She looked past him at Sophie and Santiago. “He has pneumonia.”

“Zhalia.”

She looked back at Dante, surprised. “What?”

“She’s in shock,” Haki said from behind them. “We should get them out of here.”

Dante nodded. “Santiago, can you…”

“We have him,” Sophie assured him.

“Good. Zhalia, listen. How did Klaus block your magic?”

“He has a…thing.” She gestured vaguely. “Like a bug.”

“Ok,” Dante agreed. “And where is it?”

Zhalia turned, lifting her top a little. The bug was nestled into the small of her back, partially burrowed under the skin there.

Dante started to reach for it; she caught his wrist, stopping him. “It’ll hurt you.”

“Doesn’t matter. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath, letting go of his wrist. “Do it.”

Dante’s hand closed over the bug and he pulled.

Zhalia was bone weary, but – for the first time in a long time – she didn’t hurt anywhere. For a long time she was willing to just enjoy that, but eventually she woke up the rest of the way.

“Morning,” Dante said quietly from somewhere nearby.

“Is it?”

“Well, almost. How do you feel?”

“Tired.” She stretched, wincing as the movement woke all the aches in her body. “And stiff,” she added. “Where are we?”

“Huntik Foundation safe house in Perth. You’ve been asleep for a day and a half.”

“Have I?” She thought about that for a minute. “What about Lok?” she added, more sharply.

“Lok’s fine. His doctor says he’ll be able to travel by the end of the week…and you should be alright to fly by then, too. He’s surprised you made it here with that ear.”

“Didn’t have much choice,” she murmured, sitting up.

“No, I suppose not,” Dante agreed. “The doctor says Lok was already taking antibiotics.”

“Yeah.”

“Where did he get those?” he prompted her.

“Organization doctor.”

“Klaus called a doctor?”

“Zhalia made him,” Cherit said from the doorway.

Zhalia threw her pillow at the little Titan. “Sneak!” Dante laughed softly, and she glanced back. “Klaus needed us alive. It wasn’t hard to persuade him. And only Lok could get pneumonia and heat exhaustion at the same time.”

“He does have a knack.” Dante got up to retrieve her pillow. “The doctor says your ear’s already healing up. He gave you painkillers, if you want them.”

“No thanks. It’s not that bad.”

Cherit landed on the bed. “You should take them. They’ll help you sleep easier.”

“I don’t need them.”

Dante frowned, sitting back on the bed. “Are you sure? They’ll ease some of that stiffness, too.”

Zhalia grimaced. “They make my head fuzzy. I can’t think straight or cast any spells.”

“You don’t need spells,” Cherit reminded her. “This is a safe house.”

“Yeah, I know.” She looked away, picking at her blanket.

“It’s fine,” Dante put the packet on the night table by the bed. “Take them if you need them, alright?”

“I will.” She glanced at the window. “Huh.”

“What?” Dante looked over; the sky was starting to lighten, but it wasn’t dawn yet.

“I finally feel like it’s the right time. Just in time for us to head back home.”

“Not for another couple of days,” Dante reminded her, standing. “Get some more sleep. Sophie’s been trying to sneak out to see Lok all night; I should go catch her before she tries again.”

Zhalia caught his arm. “Let the kids play. Lok was pretty sick for a while.”

“That bug…”

“Was meant for you. Klaus developed it for you…the Professor’s obviously getting tired of you.”

“Well, they say the man who never made an enemy never made anything. Zhalia, get some sleep.”

“Stay with me?”

Dante smiled. “If you like.”

Lok was curled on his side in a hospital bed, gazing idly out the window, when Sophie slipped in just before dawn that day. “Morning, Lok.”

“Morning. Where is everyone?”

“Zhalia and Dante are back at the safe house. She’s still exhausted.”

“Is she alright?”

“Well, when Dante got the bug off, all her Titans spontaneously invoked. Getting them back under control when she was already so tired used up all her reserves. She’s been asleep for a day and a half.” She sat carefully on the side of the bed. “Lok, do you know what was going on?”

“Yeah.” He sat up, playing with the edge of the blanket. “The Professor wanted me either out of the game or on his side. They were waiting for all the Seekers to reach Australia, then we were going back to Prague…only I got sick, and they couldn’t move me.”

“Yes, the doctors here said if you hadn’t been taking the pills you’d be much sicker. As it is they think you’ll be able to travel by next week, and Zhalia’s ear should be healed by then as well. You’re lucky they gave you those antibiotics.”

“Zhalia made them call an Organization doctor.”

Sophie frowned, studying him. Lok sounded oddly distant. “Lok, are you alright?”

“Course.” He smiled quickly. “I’m just looking forward to getting out of here. Go back home, get a few more missions.”

“Oh!” Sophie dug into her pocket, lifting out a slightly crumpled envelope. “This came for you, just after the mission to Spain. It was waiting at Dante’s.”

“Oh?” Lok took it from her, pausing to cough.

“Yeah. I didn’t mean to bring it, but…” She shrugged, looking away.

“It’s from my mom,” Lok said in surprise. “She says that…hey, she used to be a Seeker!”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know about that. I mean, she must have known my dad was, but I didn’t realise…” He let the letter slide out of his hands, thinking.

Sophie carefully picked up the letter, scanning through it. “She says Guggenheim called her when you started working with Dante, and she’d like you to go home to visit her. Where does she live?”

“Ireland. Kerry. I went home at Christmas, but I haven’t been back since.”

“Is it just your mother?”

“No. My sister Cathy lives at home.” He took the letter back from her. “Hey, you’re invited.”

“I am?”

“Well, my team. Which is you, Dante and Zhalia.”

“Why did you go to the Academy? It’s pretty far away.”

“My dad wanted me to go there. They talked about it before he went missing. Plus…” he shrugged. “You might have noticed I’m not very studious. The Academy has a really good reputation.”

“Hmm. Your mother sounds really nice.”

“She is.” He stared at the letter for another moment.

“Dante’ll be here soon. You could ask him.”

“Yeah, I think I will. I’d like to go home.”

“For a holiday?” Sophie winced; that hadn’t sounded anywhere near as casual as she’d wanted it to.

“Yeah. Just a holiday, Sophie. Even Seekers get holidays, right?” He smiled, reaching out a hand. She took it lightly, and they sat together and watched the sun rise.

Against a Stone, 2/3

Sun, 07 Jun 2009 09:18:22 GMT

Title: Against a Stone
Author: fandomlver
Rating: 12A
Genre and/or Pairing: Angst
Spoilers: General for S4. Set somewhere between 4.10 and 4.16, but no episode specific spoilers.
Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst. Also, my first ever fic. Critique gladly accepted.
Word Count: 2835 / 6752
Summary: Written from a prompt on this comm. Castiel pays for his friendship with Dean.
Pt 1 is here.

Dean woke at Sam’s touch, rolling over and freezing half way. “Shit,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Bruised rib. You?”

“I’m good. Here…”

Sam got him upright, leaning awkwardly against the wall of the stall. “What about them?” Dean asked, nodding towards the other two.

Sam looked over his shoulder, squinting. “Dunno. I’m guessing Uriel got what he came for.”

“Yeah. Get me up.”

“That a good idea?”

“No. Up.”

Sam scowled, but he helped Dean to his feet and over to the others. Ruby looked up as they approached. “I don’t think he’s all here right now,” she said quietly. Sam eased Dean down beside them and crouched to examine Cas; he was dry-eyed, at least, but the blank look was back and he was clinging firmly to Ruby. Sam could sympathize; he didn’t much want to face what had just happened, either.

“You ok?” he asked, touching Ruby’s cheek.

She smiled quickly at him. “Never better. We should go, though, Uriel’ll be over his snit pretty soon.”

“Can you manage Cas?”

“Yeah, but I can’t get up.”

“Alright. Here.”

It was awkward—Cas wouldn’t let go of Ruby, and Dean couldn’t help—but Sam got them on their feet. Cas’ balance was off, but Ruby got him heading towards the door after a couple of false starts; Sam turned back to Dean, holding out a hand to get him off the floor.

“I hate barns,” Dean said angrily, pressing one hand against his ribs as he caught his balance. “No more hunts in barns, deal?”

“Deal,” Sam agreed. “Come on, let’s get those wrapped.”

Ruby got Cas as far as the car and then stalled; she couldn’t get him in without him letting go first. Sighing, she propped him against the door and waited.

He still wasn’t responding; the blank look in his eyes was starting to creep her out, and the death grip he had on her sleeve was getting annoying. But he seemed suddenly very fragile, and she found herself feeling sorry for him—and oddly protective.

The boys were only a minute behind them; Dean let go of Sam, pausing in front of them. “Cas? You in there?”

“I think he’s in shock,” Ruby offered.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Dean agreed, touching Cas’ chin and lifting it lightly to meet his eyes. “Hey. Hi, Cas.”

Cas blinked several times before focusing on him, drawing in a shaky breath. “Dean…”

“Hi. Back with us?”

“What’s…I can’t…” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “It’s all gone,” he whispered, and he sounded utterly broken in that moment.

“Yeah,” Dean said softly. “I know. Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” Cas frowned, and he added, “Get in.”

“I’m…”

“Get in the car,” Dean said patiently. “We’ll worry about everything else later.”

Cas turned, looking at the car. “Where are we going?”

“Motel. Somewhere. For now. We’ll figure it out later on. Just get in, Cas.”

“I should go,” Cas said quietly.

“No. You should get in the car.”

“Dean…”

“This isn’t a debate, Cas! You’re human now. We’re not leaving you here. Get in the car.”

Cas flinched, looking down; Dean sighed, turning to Sam, but before anyone could say anything Cas was sliding into the Impala’s backseat.

“Careful, Dean,” Sam murmured. “He’s in shock.”

“Yeah, Sam, I know. We’ve just got to get him out of here, let him freak out in private.”

“And get your ribs bound,” Sam added.

“Yeah. I’m looking forward to that.” Dean got in beside Cas, letting Sam drive.

“Are you hurt?” Cas murmured, watching the way he sat.

“Yeah. Bust a rib. It’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean studied him for a moment. “I’m not. You’re alive.”

Cas began laughing softly. Once he’d started he couldn’t seem to stop; he was still chuckling when Sam pulled into a Motel courtyard, almost twenty minutes later.

Sam leaned back over the seat, eyeing Cas warily. “Dean, you got a card?”

“In my jacket in the trunk. Get two rooms.”

“Yeah. You ok?”

No, Sam, I’m sitting with a hysterical angel and I don’t know what to do.

“Yeah. Take Ruby with you,” he added. Sam nodded, climbing out. Ruby followed him without looking back at them.

“Cas? You ok back there?”

“I can’t…” Cas broke off, breathing very fast and shallow.

“Yeah. Look, just hold on for a couple minutes more, ok? Sam’s getting us rooms, you can freak out in private.”

That started him laughing again, and he was still laughing when Ruby came back with the key. “Ground floor, nineteen and twenty,” she told him. “Need a hand?”

“Yeah. Get me…”

She helped him out of the car, bracing him while he caught his breath. “Ok,” he said finally. “Cas?”

Cas climbed out under his own power, but the sight of the sky seemed to paralyse him and Ruby ended up towing him to their room. “Sam’s coming to look at your rib,” she told Dean.

“Thanks, Ruby.” He turned to look at Cas, barely registering the click of the door as Ruby left. “Cas?”

“I feel…” He laughed softly, but the hysteria seemed to have died down. “I don’t know. How do you tell?”

“You learn. You’re probably tired. Sit down.”

“Tired,” Cas repeated quietly, but he sat down, staring straight ahead.

Dean found a bottle of water in the mini fridge, holding it out. “Drink some of this, and lie down.”

Cas took it, studying it carefully, but before he could drink anything there was a tap at the door. “Easy,” Dean said, seeing him tense. “It’s probably Sam.”

“Yes, of course,” Cas agreed, watching warily as Dean opened the door.

“How’s it going?” Sam asked quietly.

“Not sure yet. Come on.”

Dean wasn’t really sleeping. Even wrapped, the pain in his rib was enough to keep him on the edge of wakefulness. Besides, he was worried; Cas had taken some of the water, but they couldn’t get him to eat and as the day wore on, he’d fallen silent. By the time they’d turned in, Cas in one of Sam’s old t-shirts, he hadn’t spoken in hours.

So when Dean drifted awake to hear Cas muttering, he stayed still, listening.

“Deus meus, ex toto corde poenitet me omnium meorum peccatorum, eaque detestor,” Cas murmured. Dean eased upright, back to the other bed, listening carefully. “Quia peccando, non solum poenas a Te iuste statutas promeritus sum, sed praesertim quia offendi Te, summum bonum, ac dignum qui super omnia diligaris.”

His voice was shaking. Dean grimaced, staring down at his hands as the quiet recitation went on.

“Ideo firmiter propono, adiuvante gratia Tua, de cetero me non peccaturum peccandique occasiones proximas fugiturum. Amen.”

God, I repent my sins and detest my weakness, Dean translated mentally, as closely as he could. He was missing chunks, he knew—Sam was the Latin scholar—but he could get the sense of the words. Guide my penance, help me do better, and lead me from temptation. Ah, Cas...you don’t need to confess. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“Deus meus...”

“Cas.”

“Ex to...Deus meus, ex toto...”

“Castiel.”

Cas shuddered, turning to look at him. “I cannot hear my brothers.”

“Your brothers aren’t talking to you. Cas, you remember what’s happened?”

He looked away. “Yes. I have Fallen.”

“You didn’t Fall, Cas, they stole your Grace.”

“It was commanded. I disobeyed.”

“Yeah.” Dean sat up, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Cas was probably still in shock, but they did need to talk about this. “Look, you really...”

Wings outside alerted him; he stood as an unfamiliar figure appeared in the room. “Dean Winchester.”

“Just what we need, another of you guys. Where’s Uriel?”

“Reassigned. We have need of you.”

“Have you.” Dean flipped on the lights, studying the man. He probably fit the standard definition of tall, dark and handsome, but he had the air of arrogance that had set the brothers against Uriel at their first meeting. Dean was already pretty sure he wasn’t going to like him. “You are?”

“Zadkiel.”

Castiel laughed softly, the hysterical tone edging back in. “Angel of mercy, benevolence, and tolerance.”

“Uh huh,” Dean said flatly. “Were you in the barn, Zadkiel?”

“You are needed...”

“Were you in the barn, Zadkiel?” Dean’s tone hadn’t changed.

“You...”

“Were you in the barn, Zadkiel?”

“He will continue until you answer,” Cas advised him. Zadkiel ignored him, watching Dean.

Sam slipped in behind him, carefully circling him to join Dean. Ruby stood in the doorway behind him, eyes dark. Zadkiel studied Sam, eyes narrowed as though disgusted, and glanced briefly at Ruby before turning back to Dean.

“Yes. I was in the barn,” he said finally. “I laid no hand on you, nor your brother, nor the demon.”

Dean was already turning away, though the gesture was only dramatic; the room was too crowded for him to actually go anywhere. “I’m not working with you.”

“Dean,” Cas protested.

“I have been assigned to you,” Zadkiel said flatly.

“Yeah, but I’m not working with you. If Uriel sends more angels after Sam, what are you going to do?”

Zadkiel hesitated, clearly aware that this was important. “I will not harm Sam,” he said finally.

“You going to protect him? Sam’s been killing himself saving your Seals, you going to return the favor?”

Zadkiel’s lip curled. “I won’t harm him,” he repeated. “You have no right to demand protection for a halfbreed.”

“Get out,” Dean said shortly.

“I did not harm you.”

“You hurt my friend,” Dean said sharply. “I’m not working with you.”

Zadkiel tilted his head to one side. “Why do you think you have a choice? We can simply place you anywhere you are needed.”

Dean smiled grimly. “You can pop me anywhere you want, Zadkiel, but guess what? I have free will. I’m not working with any angel who would stand by and allow Uriel to destroy one of your own. I’m not working with any angel who will try to hurt my brother, and I’m not working with any angel who can’t at least acknowledge what you did.” He gestured towards Cas. “You haven’t even looked at him. See? Castiel. He’s right there.”

“Castiel is dead,” Zadkiel said flatly.

Dean hissed, aware that Cas had paled, aware that Sam had moved to support him. Ruby took a step forward, fury darkening her face; Dean waved her back, mildly surprised when she went.

Zadkiel ignored the sudden movements, eyes on Dean, who nodded suddenly. “Yeah. Maybe Castiel is dead. But Cas is right here, and we like him a whole lot better than any of the rest of you. Now buzz off.”

Cas rose shakily; Sam silently supported him until he found his balance, standing beside Dean. “You will not compel Dean Winchester to obey, brother,” he told Zadkiel.

Zadkiel’s gaze was locked somewhere over his head, refusing to look at him. “Anyone can be compelled.”

“Not the Winchesters.” He turned to Dean. “He can’t understand. I didn’t, either, at first.”

Dean was still watching Zadkiel. “You look at him. Look him in the eye, or leave, right now.”

“Dean,” Cas protested.

Zadkiel vanished.

“Pansy,” Dean snorted, catching at Cas’ arm as he swayed. “You ok?”

“I feel...” he hesitated, closing his eyes.

“Dizzy?” Sam guessed.

“Dizzy,” Cas repeated thoughtfully. “Yes. I believe I feel dizzy.”

“Good cure for dizzy is sitting down.” Dean steered Cas to the bed, pushing his head down. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“You cannot refuse to work with them,” Cas said, voice muffled by his knees.

“I can do anything I want, Cas, God gave me free will.”

He lifted his head. “They will take you. They’ll give you no choice.”

“Head down,” Dean snapped, alarmed by his color.

“Dean,” Sam said softly.

“I’m not...” Dean rounded on him, cursing when his rib flared. “Ow, damnit! I’m through letting those guys run our lives, Sam.”

“Cas is right,” Ruby told him. “They’ll just take you. They don’t care about your free will.”

“Let me see,” Sam muttered, pushing Dean’s hand out of the way and lifting his t shirt. “Stop yelling,” he added, very softly. “You’re freaking Cas out.”

Dean bit back his instinctive response, taking a deep breath. It took several more before he trusted himself to speak without yelling. “Cas,” he said, voice more level. “There anything I can do to keep them away?”

“No. They are angels, Dean, they cannot be stopped.”

Dean shook his head, but he didn’t argue. “Sam, go back to...” He glanced at Ruby, changing his mind about what he’d been about to say. “Your room. We’re fine here.”

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

He waited until the door closed to turn back to Cas. “How’re you feeling?”

“Not dizzy,” Cas said, head still down.

“Good. You can sit up. What?” he added, when Cas stared at him. He hadn’t lost the penetrating stare, and it still made Dean feel uncomfortably as though Cas were peering into his mind, rummaging around to see what was in there.

“Zadkiel was not trying to be difficult. He doesn’t understand. None of us did, to begin with, and he has not been dealing with people.”

“Cas, are you saying I corrupted you?” Dean grinned.

Cas smiled, very faintly, before turning serious again. “You can’t refuse to work with them simply because...”

“Simply because nothing,” Dean cut him off. “Uriel stole your Grace. He killed an angel, Cas. Why does no one see how screwed up this is?” Why aren’t you pissed?

“We’re fighting a war. No one has time to grieve one soldier...one who arguably brought his fate on himself.” He glanced down at himself. “I don’t think I’m tired anymore.”

“You haven’t even slept yet,” Dean pointed out. “Yeah, it’s almost time to get up anyway. You want a shower?”

“A...” Cas blinked. “Yes.”

“Your body remember how?”

“Yes.” He caught the towel Dean threw to him, rising and heading for the bathroom.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice halted him at the door. “I have to ask, man. What happened to the guy who used to be in there?”

“I don’t understand?”

Dean gestured vaguely, trying to explain without actually saying anything. “The devout man. The vessel. He still in there?”

Cas blinked. “No. The...‘guy who used to be in here’...has been gone for some time. His spirit was removed to Heaven shortly after I...moved in.”

Dean smiled at Cas’ attempts at slang. “Alright. I had to ask.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed, turning to go into the bathroom.

“Don’t lock the door.”

Ruby was standing by the window when Cas came back out, dressed once again in borrowed clothes. He glanced around, but Dean was gone.

“Where’s Dean?” he asked.

“They went to get some supplies. They won’t be long.” She turned, arms folding as she studied him. “How are you doing?”

Cas sat on his bed, frowning. “Is there...should I be doing something?”

“No. I meant, how are you feeling.”

“Small. And very mortal.” He tilted his head, studying her. “I can see you.”

“You...”

“I can see Ruby.”

“You can see demons.” Ruby sat on Dean’s bed, facing him. “That might be useful.”

Cas closed down, staring at the floor. “Yes, of course,” he agreed, tone absolutely neutral. “It’s important to be useful.”

Shit. “Cas, that’s not what I meant.”

“I’m tired, Ruby.” He turned away from her, curling onto his side.

“Cas.”

He sighed, sitting back up, and she closed her eyes, trying to get her thoughts in order. This was important; if she got this wrong, now, with Cas so fragile...

“Dean lets me hang around because I’m useful. Because I can fight, and I know the rituals, and I can sense things, sometimes.”

“Sam loves you,” Cas protested.

“Yeah. But if Dean wanted me gone, I’d be gone. I’m not stupid enough to think Sam would pick me over him.”

“I’m not useful,” Cas whispered. “I’m not anything.” One hand reached for his shoulder, searching for his wings.

“You’re Cas. They don’t need anything else.”

“I’m nothing,” he murmured again.

Ruby moved, coming to sit beside him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, gingerly touching his shoulder.

Cas laughed, hiccupping a little. “Yes. Everyone’s very sorry. Everyone understands.” He rubbed his face, smearing tears across his cheeks. “Lilith wouldn’t do this to you.”

“Lilith would knock me back down below to the rack. She wouldn’t do this. So no, I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I am sorry you’re feeling it.”

He nodded slowly. “Thank you, Ruby.”

In the barn he’d cried from shock. Uriel had hurt him, yes, but the full impact hadn’t hit him yet, he hadn’t really known what was happening.

Now he knew. Now he’d felt it, now he understood. This time when he wept it was fear and anger and loneliness and grief, and the loss of the faith that had always been his rock.

And again, the only thing Ruby could do was hold him, whispering useless platitudes, and let him cry.

Lost and Found, Chapter 4

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 10:57:17 GMT

Chapter four! One more to go.

Lok let Dr Schmidt examine him, sitting passively and following his orders. Zhalia thought that probably had more to do with the newly-arrived Grier, standing directly behind her with an Augurfrost in his palm, than any desire to make things easier for the Organization.

Grier was a complication she hadn’t anticipated. He respected her as a fighter, he’d trained her himself, but he hated the subterfuge that accompanied her role and she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to out her to Lok if he could find a reason to.

Not that it mattered, of course. Within forty eight hours they’d be back in Prague, and once he’d met the Professor it wouldn’t matter what he thought of her.

For the first time she wondered about Cherit. She wasn’t sure if the Professor could control Titans, but even if he could Cherit was something different.

She refused to think about what would happen if the Professor couldn’t control him.

Schmidt finished binding Lok’s shoulder, turning away from the bed. Zhalia took a careful step away from Grier; when he didn’t object, she crossed to the bed, sitting beside Lok. He was busy glaring at Schmidt, but his hand slipped into hers. Cherit, who’d been banished to the next room while the doctor was working, drifted back to curl under Lok’s arm.

“Mild pneumonia,” Schmidt told Klaus. “The air here isn’t helping, but it’s too late now; you’ll need to watch for heat exhaustion, as well. Keep him still for a week or so, give him these.” He produced a bottle of pills, tossing them to Grier. “Be careful of his shoulder; it’s healing up now, but it won’t take much to throw it out again.”

“We have to be in Prague in two days,” Klaus protested.

Schmidt hesitated, studying his notes. Zhalia bit her lip, waiting; she didn’t realise she was squeezing Lok’s hand until he shook it lightly, trying to loosen her grip.

“No,” Schmidt said finally. “The boy can’t travel.”

“The Professor wants to see him.”

“You can’t move him. Send the girl if he needs a Huntik prisoner so badly. Put the boy on a plane now you’ll kill him.”

Klaus scowled, storming out of the room.

“Plenty of water,” Schmidt told Grier. “Give him the pills. And get some air flow in here.”

Grier threw the bottle of pills to Zhalia and turned to snap at one of the Suits. “Get someone on guard outside that window and get those boards off.”

“Good.” Schmidt looked back at Lok. “Try to relax, my boy. It should clear up in a week or so.”

“Oh, no problem. I love being surrounded by the Organization.” He began to cough again; Zhalia hauled him upright, waiting out the fit.

“Keep him quiet,” Grier warned Zhalia, ushering the doctor out and locking the door behind him.

Zhalia snagged a bottle of water, offering it to Lok with two of the pills. “Heat exhaustion? I thought you lived in Italy. It’s not much hotter here.”

“I grew up in Ireland. Sixty five degrees is a heatwave. This is more like eighty five.” He swallowed the pills, choking a little on the water. “Where’d you grow up, Zhalia?”

“Prague,” she said absently, and then mentally cursed.

“Prague? Isn’t that Organization Central?”

“Yeah. But there’s thousands of people there who don’t know anything about this world.”

Lok nodded. “Isn't Prague cooler than Ireland? You should be feeling it even worse than me.”

“Heat’s never really bothered me. And I travelled a lot, even before the Foundation.”

There was a crash outside and the boards fell away from the window. The sky was lightening towards dawn; Zhalia sighed. Her body clock was still off, insisting that it was only late evening.

Lok flinched, rolling away from the sight. “Ow.”

“It’s not even dawn yet.”

“It’s been practically pitch black in here all day,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow. “Night. Whatever.”

Zhalia settled on the edge of the bed, back against the headboard. “You should get some rest. Klaus isn’t going to give you a whole week.”

“You need rest too,” Cherit told her, lifting out of Lok’s arms to hover in front of her.

“We’re surrounded by the Organization, Cherit.”

“Aye, that we are. I’ll watch them for you. No magic makes you weaker. You need sleep.”

“Zhalia, g’to sleep,” Lok mumbled. “Cherit’ll wake us.”

“Cherit’ll wake me,” Zhalia corrected him pointedly, easing down to lie beside him. “Don’t hog the blanket.”

“It’s ninty degrees out. Who needs a blanket?”

Haki was standing by the window, coffee in hand, when Dante left his room just before dawn. “Morning,” he said quietly, offering a second cup to Dante. “I figured you’d be up pretty soon. We’ll be heading out in about an hour.”

“Still no news?”

“We haven’t narrowed the field any. But the last of Guggenheim’s Seekers flew into Darwin during the night.”

“How many?”

“Including the four of us? Seventy three. I had an idea that might help us, though…look at this for a minute.”

He crossed to a map on the table; the search area was pencilled in and various other sites were marked and notated. Sophie slipped out of her room to join them, stealing Dante’s coffee from him and taking a sip.

Haki pointed out five or six towns on the edges of the pencilled circle. “I know people in these towns, good people. They’ll know if there have been strangers around.”

“We’d risk alerting the Organization,” Dante said neutrally.

“This may be the fastest – or only – way to find them.”

“Sophie, what do you think?”

Sophie frowned, studying the map. “Can’t you just call them, Haki?”

“Calls can be intercepted, especially over distances like that. I can, if you like, but the risks go up.”

“No. Let’s do it.” Sophie looked up at Dante. “Yes?”

“Yes. Where’s Santiago?”

“On the roof, I think. I’ll go find him.” She handed Dante’s cup back and headed for her room.

“My friends won’t give us away, Dante. Unless the Organization actually see us, they won’t know we’re there.”

“Never doubted it.” Dante pulled out his Holotome, scanning the map in. “Who’s staging the Seekers in the field?”

“Stefan Orain, at the moment. He’d step down for you.”

Dante glanced up as Sophie and Santiago came in. “No. Stefan’s a good man. Let him know what we’re doing, and we’ll go.” Haki nodded, stepping back from the table.

“What’s the plan?” Sophie asked.

The Holotome produced the mission card; Dante studied it for a moment before offering it to Sophie. “The plan is we find our friends, and we bring them home.”

Sophie slipped the card into her pocket. “Sounds good to me.”

Lok woke a little later, too miserable to sleep any more. Cherit climbed onto the pillow beside him, pressing one paw against his forehead.

“Hmm…getting better, Lok!”

“Ssssh. Zhalia’s still asleep.”

“She needs it,” Cherit agreed. “I don’t think she’d slept since you were taken.”

Lok nodded, eyeing the window. “Cherit,” he said very quietly. “Do you think you could get past the Suits out there?”

“Aye, that I could, but why?”

“Dante’s got to be around somewhere. Do you know any Huntik Foundation safe houses in Australia?”

“I know where the safe houses are, but I don’t know where we are right now. It would be hard to find them.”

“Think you could find your way? We can’t get out on our own, and I think Zhalia’s right; Klaus isn’t going to wait for me, whatever Schmidt says.”

Cherit bounced off the bed, hovering near the window. “I could do it, but you’ll be alone.”

“No, I won’t.” He glanced at Zhalia, still sleeping the sleep of the completely exhausted.

“Go back to sleep,” Cherit advised him. “So they won’t know it was your idea. I’ll be gone when you wake up.”

“Be careful, little buddy.” He lay back down, careful not to disturb Zhalia. It didn’t take long for him to drop off again.

He woke some time later when Zhalia was yanked off the bed and dropped to the floor. A Suit reached for him, but he ducked, sliding off the bed as carefully as he could under his own power.

“Where is the little Titan gone?” Klaus demanded. “Whose idea was it?”

“What – Cherit?” Zhalia asked, genuinely surprised. Lok said nothing, keeping his head down and concentrating on his breathing.

“A Titan acts only under orders,” Klaus snarled.

Zhalia answered in Czech; whatever she said didn’t go down too well, as the nearest Suit hit her hard enough to spin her head around. Lok braced her until she caught her balance again.

“Zhalia didn’t do anything,” he protested.

“Lok, shut up,” Zhalia hissed.

“Let the boy talk, my dear,” Klaus told her.

Zhalia spat something else in Czech; Grier yanked her to her feet, pinning her against his chest without effort.

“Cherit’s a free Titan,” Lok said quickly. “He doesn’t have an Amulet, he does whatever he wants. He probably got bored hanging around and bailed to find some place more fun.”

Klaus gestured to Grier, who put some pressure on the arm around Zhalia’s throat. “And left you, his Seeker, behind?”

Zhalia kicked out sharply backwards, catching Grier on the shin. He pulled her up into the air, off her feet, pressure still on her throat.

“Cherit’s not mine,” Lok said desperately. “He goes where he wants.”

He reached up suddenly and caught Zhalia’s ankle, tugging sharply. The move took Grier by surprise and he dropped her; she landed on her knees, coughing and rubbing at her throat.

“Zhalia didn’t do anything,” he said firmly, eyes locked on Grier.

He took a step closer, raising one foot to kick them. Zhalia laughed, voice deep and pained. “Go ahead, Grier, break a bone. We’ll see what the Professor thinks. He can’t use a broken Seeker.”

“He can’t…” Lok started hotly, but Zhalia whipped around to glare at him and he subsided.

“Grier,” Klaus snapped, and he backed off, scowling. “Double the guard.”

“The Foundation will find us.”

“They’ll find us anyway if that damn Titan breaks the lines. Get more guards out there!”

Grier turned away, already snapping out orders. Klaus watched Zhalia for a moment before following him.

Lok collapsed as soon as they were gone, trying to catch his breath without coughing. Zhalia didn’t move, watching until he relaxed and drew a deeper breath.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Lok started to rise, changed his mind, and edged around the bed on his knees. The water wasn’t cold anymore, but it was water; he allowed himself two mouthfuls before coming back to Zhalia with the second bottle.

“You’re bruising already,” he murmured. Tearing a strip off his shirt, he soaked it in water before offering it to her.

“Thanks.” She laid it gingerly against her throat. “Did the little Titan really leave on his own?”

“Little Titan – that’s what Klaus called him,” Lok said thoughtfully.

“Yeah. I heard him. Was it your idea or not?”

“Yeah.”

“You little idiot. Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“Hey!”

Zhalia pulled the damp cloth away from her throat. “Get back to bed, Lok.”

“Zhalia, what’s…”

“Get back to bed!”

He obeyed, watching her carefully. When he was settled she sat carefully on the end of the bed.

“The only reason you’re alive, Lok, is because the Professor wants a spy in the Foundation.”

“I’d never…”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. The Professor can warp minds. He’ll turn you against the Foundation without even trying. But if Klaus thinks Dante’s close to finding us, he’ll just take us out. He doesn’t want you in the Foundation. Especially you.”

“Why not?”

“Because Eathon Lambert was the best Seeker of his generation. Dante Vale, the best of his generation, has taken you on. You’ll be the best in your generation pretty soon. And your team, Dante’s team, has the highest success rate since your father. The Professor means to change that one way or the other.”

“My dad worked with Metz.”

“Metz learned from your father. He was the best. Everyone knows that. Lok, the only chance we have is if Klaus believes we can be converted.”

“I can’t go against Dante, even pretend,” Lok said, troubled.

“Figures,” Zhalia muttered. “I can.”

“But just pretend, right?”

She looked away. “I work for the Foundation, Lok, you know that. I can keep Klaus quiet for a while. You just need to stop arguing with him. Stop giving him excuses to hurt you.”

“Alright,” Lok agreed quietly. “I’ll stay quiet.”

Zhalia nodded, sagging against the edge of the bed. “Thank you.”

“You should get some rest,” Lok murmured, curling up.

“I will.”

Sophie sat on the bonnet of the car, face up towards the sun. If she opened her eyes she could just see Dante, waiting patiently outside a house. Haki was inside, talking to another contact. Santiago had gone to meet the other Seekers, at Dante’s request.

“Three towns,” Sophie said, mostly to herself. “Six and a half hours. Seven different contacts.”

No luck, she didn’t add.

Something thumped against the car and she sat up, startled. A child of about six froze in the act of running after a ball.

“Sorry!” he squeaked.

“That’s alright.” Sophie slid off the car, catching the ball and crouching to hold it out. “Here you go.”

“Thank you.” The boy took the ball, laughing. “Are you Haki’s friend?”

“Yes. Do you know Haki?”

“He asked my mama about the bad men.”

Sophie frowned. “The bad men?”

“Two days ago they were on Wanamangura’s path.”

“Wanamangura’s path,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

The boy smiled, turning and running away with his ball. Sophie rose to her feet, glancing around.

Dante was coming back towards the car, deep in conversation with Haki. She went to meet them.

“What is it?” Dante asked when he saw her.

“I met a boy who says there were bad men on Wanamangura’s path two days ago.” She kept her voice down.

Haki frowned. “Wanamangura’s path.”

“Does that mean something?” Dante asked, pausing to spread the map over the bonnet of the car.

“Wanamangura is the local incarnation of the Rainbow Serpent, who carves out rivers as he travels. Rivers are very important in this area.” He gestured to the desert surrounding them.

“This is the nearest river.” Sophie traced it carefully. “It flows towards Ayer’s Rock.”

“If they’re anywhere near Uluru, we can find them.” Haki grinned, folding the map. “Come on. I know the man we need to talk to.”

Sophie scrambled into the car behind Dante. “How long will this take?”

“Two hours, give or take.” He caught Dante’s look. “I’ll see how much I can shave off that.”

“Do,” Dante agreed.

Almost an hour into the trip, just over half way to Haki’s contact, they had to stop to refuel. Sophie got out to stretch her legs, walking away from the road. The sun beat down on her; she’d thought Ethiopia was warm, but Australia was even hotter. And it was so dry out here. Between them they’d already drunk about ten liters of water.

“Sophie!” Dante called. She waved, turning and beginning to pick her way back to them.

“Sophiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Frowning, she turned away, looking out across the desert again. Dante watched her, turning to follow her gaze.

“Sophiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Cherit fell out of the sky.

Wed, 03 Jun 2009 10:51:33 GMT

My Egyptian Name is Jendayi (thankful).
Take The Egyptian Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

Against a Stone, 1/3

Mon, 01 Jun 2009 11:06:18 GMT

Lost and Found, Chapter 2

Fri, 29 May 2009 18:27:36 GMT

Since no one weighed in, the sequel is being written with the OC. There's still time to vote, if you care.

Cherit was curled into the crook of his arm.

That was the first thing Lok was aware of, but as soon as he realised he was awake all the accumulated aches crashed in on top of him. For a moment he couldn’t breathe through the pain.

“Ow,” he murmured. “Everfi…”

“Don’t.” Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist. “You’re sick, you shouldn’t use your powers.”

“Zhalia.” He opened his eyes, but it didn’t help; he was in a fairly comfortable bed, but the room was dark and the air was cold. “Where are we?”

She snorted. “Enjoying the hospitality of the Organization.” Lok picked at the blanket, and she added, “I persuaded them that you needed something better than the floor.”

“She was very brave,” Cherit agreed.

“Lok, can you sit up?” Zhalia asked. “I want to look at your arm. Try not to move it.”

Lok nodded, carefully propping himself up on his other arm. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. They just pushed me around some. Does…”

“Ow!” He jerked away from her, cradling the arm.

“That answers that. It’s dislocated.” She reached for it again; Lok pulled back, and she frowned. “I have to reset it. It’ll swell.”

“I know,” Lok agreed. “Be quick?”

“Yeah.” She gripped the arm carefully, watching him. “It’ll hurt for a second, but once it’s…”

She shoved and Lok screamed, arching against her.

“…in,” she finished more quietly, “it’ll feel much better.”

“Geez,” Lok breathed. “Remind me not to get on your bad side. Where are the others?”

“Planning how to break us out, I’d guess.”

Lok glanced around, eyes adapted to the dark now. His ‘bed’ was a mattress on the floor – Zhalia was apparently making do with a blanket. The only other thing in the room was a plastic tray with a half-full plate and a jug on it.

Zhalia followed his gaze, leaning over to retrieve the jug. “It’s just water.”

“Drink it slowly,” Cherit advised him.

“All of it,” she added when he stopped after a few swallows. “They’ll be coming with more soon anyway.”

“Where are we?” Lok asked, tipping the water into his hand and rubbing it over his face.

“Prague, I think. I wasn’t exactly conscious when we got here, but I’m almost certain we’re at Organization Headquarters.”

“Prague,” Lok repeated. “Why haven’t you busted out yet?”

“They’d kill you, for one thing.” She took the jug away from him, offering him an apple from the tray instead.

“And she has no magic,” Cherit added.

“Cherit!”

“What?” Lok looked from Cherit to Zhalia, unsure. “Zhalia, how does…”

“They have a little toy that drains magic,” Zhalia said off-handedly. “They’re not worried about you, but I put six Suits down when I woke up. Cherit can’t charge me up enough to overcome it, and he can’t help you at all, so they’re not worried about him, either.”

“But that’s…Zhalia, how does that even…”

“They were saving it for Dante,” she continued. “But lucky me, I get to be the guinea pig They don’t want to kill him, just make him helpless, and they weren’t sure what this would do.”

“Where is it? I can try…”

“No. It’s set up to shock anyone who touches it, and you’re sick enough as it is. Eat your apple.”

Lok started to protest; Cherit pulled urgently at his arm, shaking his head. “I’m not hungry,” he said instead.

“I bet you’re not. But you haven’t eaten anything in two days. Try it.”

“Two days,” Lok murmured, rolling the apple in his fingers.

He managed it, but it took him a while; Zhalia coaxed him semi-patiently, until he’d eaten the whole thing, and then gave him more water.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “Are you ok?”

“I just feel tired,” she assured him. “You’re the sick one.”

The door rattled suddenly and she cursed, dropping the jug back onto the tray. “Lie down,” she told him. “Close your eyes and keep them closed—you’re still asleep, got it?”

“Zhalia…”

“Look, just do it!”

Eyes wide, he slid down until he could lie back, shutting his eyes tight. Cherit crawled into the crook of his arm, tense against him.

The door crashed open; light flooded the room and he heard Zhalia hiss. “Room service!” someone yelled. “How’s the little brat?”

Zhalia’s hand pressed against his back through the blanket. “He hasn’t woken up.”

“Huh. You’d think a Lambert would be stronger.”

Lok tensed helplessly; Zhalia leaned harder, and Cherit crawled out from his arms to stand defiantly over him.

“Aw, I upset the baby Titan – leave them alone, Foundation Foundling, Klaus wants to see you.”

Zhalia’s hand shook as she let go of him. “Get your hands off me. I’m coming. Cherit! If Lok wakes up, tell him I’m fine.”

He knew that message was for him; hard as it was, he waited until the door had closed and Cherit had relaxed before he sat up, stifling a cough. “Cherit, who’s…”

“Klaus is someone important, Zhalia says. Higher up than DeFoe. He’s in charge of us; it’s his machine that keeps her powerless.”

Lok sighed, sliding down the bed again. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him fully aware of the pounding in his head and the ache everywhere else. “Is she ok?”

“She won’t talk to me…Lok? Stay awake, Lok!”

Cold wetness on his forehead woke Lok; he groaned, reaching for it, but Zhalia brushed his hand away with an irritated “Stop that.”

“I don’t think he can hear you,” Cherit said wearily.

“Of course he can hear me, he’s just being stubborn—as usual. Lok, stop that.”

The room tilted when he opened his eyes; he thought it was him, for a moment, until he realised Zhalia had planted a hand on the wall above his head and squeezed her eyes closed. “Zhalia?” he whispered, suddenly scared.

“Hey,” she said tiredly, opening her eyes and letting go of the wall.

“Where…”

“We’re on a plane. From what I can tell Dante and the Foundation were tearing Prague apart looking for us, so Klaus is taking us somewhere else.”

Lok reached up to brush a finger over the bruise on her jaw. “Zhalia…”

“I’m fine. Sit up.”

The plane pitched again and she groaned, reaching up to her ear and sagging against the wall.

“Zhalia!” Lok pushed his blanket aside, scrambling up to kneel at her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Get back in bed, idiot.” She pushed at him, but there was no strength in the move and even ill as he was she couldn’t move him. “If they think you’re getting better, they’ll take you magic too, and then we’ll really be screwed.”

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, not moving.

“I busted my eardrum,” she said impatiently. “So every time the plane…”

She broke off as the plane tilted back in the other direction, and Lok caught her arm, alarmed at how much she’d paled. “Zhalia…”

“Please go back to bed,” she said tightly.

Lok let go of her arm, climbing back over the pallet and sitting down. She pushed off the wall, digging a bottle of water out of a corner and passing it to him. “Drink up. You’ve been out for nearly a day.”

“Dante must be going insane,” he said absently, taking a careful sip.

“He was tearing through Suits like paper, anyway. I gather Santiago was helping him.”

Lok smiled. “No wonder they wanted to get us away.”

Zhalia touched his forehead, frowning. “Your temperature’s not rising, anyway. Do you want something to eat?”

“No. I think I’m getting airsick.”

“You don’t get airsick.”

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“No. But we’ve been in the air a long time.”

“So somewhere out of Europe.”

“Or they’re trying to throw off pursuit. But yeah, I think out of Europe. South America, maybe.”

“That’s pretty far.”

“Uh huh. Drink your water.”

Dante put the phone down, bracing his arms against the counter. “Confirmed. Zhalia, Lok and Cherit were on a plane out of Prauge this morning.”

“Where did it go?” Sophie asked from behind him.

“Fell off the radar.”

“We were so close,” she mourned.

“Don’t give up,” Santiago advised her quietly.

“You’re right, of course,” she agreed. “Dante, what do we do now?”

Dante turned, leaning against the counter and folding his arms across his chest. “Right now, you get some rest. We’ve got Seekers on alert all over the world. When that plane comes in to land, we’ll know about it.”

“No.”

“Sophie, you haven’t slept in three days.”

“You haven’t slept since we lost them.”

“I’m used to going without sleep.”

Santiago touched Sophie’s arm, but she brushed him off, intent on Dante. “I can’t sleep until they’re home.”

“I understand that, but I need you. I can’t get them back without you. And you can’t help me unless you get some sleep.”

Sophie studied him for a moment before nodding. “Alright, Dante, I’ll get some sleep, on one condition.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“That you get some sleep as well. Santiago can answer the phone for a while; Guggenheim knows who he is.”

Dante looked over her head at Santiago. “Think I have any chance of talking her down?”

Santiago pretended to consider it, ignoring her indignation. “No,” he said finally. “I raised her to fight for what she believes in.”

“And I believe you need sleep. You gave too much energy to Lok, you’re not recovered yet, and you won’t without sleep.”

Dante nodded. “Alright, I give in.”

Sophie nodded, rising to her feet. “If he’s still here in five minutes,” she told Santiago, “Knock him out. Let him get his sleep that way.”

“Yes, my lady,” Santiago agreed.

Dante smiled faintly as she left. “Guggenheim does know who you are. If he or anyone gives you trouble, or you hear anything, come and wake me up, alright?”

“Of course. Out of curiosity?” he added as Dante turned to leave. “There are spells to send someone to sleep; Sophie knows several. You could have just…”

“I could, but I don’t do that to my people. I was pretty sure we could persuade her between us. Good night, Santiago.”

“Good night, Dante.”

Lok dozed on and off as they travelled. His temperature wasn’t rising, and it wasn’t dangerous, but it was enough to make him miserable. Zhalia made him pretend to be asleep any time the Suits came to check on them but mostly ignored him apart from that, sitting against the wall of their little cabin with her knees up and her head down.

Lok’s sense of time was completely gone; he had no idea how long they’d been travelling for. Cherit thought more than half a day but not as much as a whole day; Zhalia said it didn’t matter and he should just get some rest.

The plane banked suddenly; Zhalia whimpered, curling into a ball and sliding to the floor. Lok scrambled off his pallet, bringing the blanket with him. Moving carefully, he wrapped first it and then himself around her, ignoring the weak push.

“Just hang on to me,” he murmured, and she did, gripping his arms all the way to the ground.

Santiago was careful to make plenty of noise opening Dante’s door; startling him awake was never a good idea. Dante was already sitting up, reaching for his shirt.

“Got something?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“A seeker in Australia reported a plane matching the description landing in the Outback. Another confirmed it.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere within two hundred kilometres of Ayer’s Rock. They’re trying to narrow it down now, but the Organization have disrupted radar readings in that area.”

“Two hundred’s too wide.”

“Guggneheim’s calling in every Seeker he can. The country will be flooded within a day. He’s booked us a flight leaving in two and a half hours, and he’s sending someone with extra amulets.”

“Good. Wake Sophie. I’ll get us something to eat.”

By the time Sophie reached the kitchen, he’d pulled together a rough meal. “Sorry. The Foundation keeps the safe houses stocked, but not very well,” he said vaguely.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s the plan?”

“We’re flying out of here in about two hours. We’ll meet a Seeker I know in Perth. By the time we land we’ll have a better idea where the plane went down.”

“Not one of our more detailed plans,” Sophie said with a sigh.

“I don’t know. We often jump into things without any plan at all.”

Santiago joined them, waving away Dante’s quiet offer of coffee. “The flight is almost twenty two hours. We’ll lose a day travelling.”

“Can’t be helped,” Dante said. “The Seekers in Australia will move if they have a chance. Otherwise they’ll wait for us.”

“They’ll be careful?” Sophie asked, pushing her plate away.

“They won’t go near enough to be seen, and they won’t go in unless they’re sure they can get Zhalia and Lok out first. Assuming they find them at all.” He took the plate away, laying a hand on her shoulder as he passed. “Don’t worry.”

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.

Lost and Found, Chapter 1

Fri, 15 May 2009 19:00:19 GMT

I have no imagination for titles. Sorry about that.

This is set between "The Beautiful Trap" and "Home Turf". I'm technically disregarding "Like Father, Unlike Son" because Grier shows up later, but they have their Hoplite Titans.

This started out as a fluffly little exploration of the fact that Lok nearly drowned twice in two episodes, and then turned into a multi-chapter monster with fighting and kidnapping and people getting beat up and a sequel in the works. A little more violence than you'd see in the show....or, rather, the same amount of violence as the show, but with actual lingering after effects.

Oh, and I know what it looks like, but I'm not upsetting the canon relationships. Promise. According to Guggenheim, Lok and Sophie are 15; for the purposes of this story, Zhalia is 23 and Dante is 27. It doesn't come up, but that's the ages I imagine them as.

The Organization always found them. Dante fired off another Boltflare and dropped lightly behind Zhalia, brushing her shoulder as she turned.

“You ok?” he asked, raising a shield around them and dropping it a moment later so she could fire.

“You should be worried about them,” she told him. Dante glanced past Kilthane, trying to make out shapes in the shifting shadows on the other side of the crypt.

Rumours of a powerful curse had brought his team to a crypt in the Spanish countryside, miles from anywhere. The information had been sadly lacking, though; expecting a simple tomb, they’d found a labyrinth of tunnels. The holotome had found them a path through, but the curse was hiding nothing useful and before they could get back out the Organization had attacked.

Lok was abruptly outlined in green as Kipperon retreated back into his amulet. The rush of energy staggered him; Sophie jumped in front of him, shield already raised, and Cherit barrelled past, trying to distract their attackers.

“Go,” Dante told Zhalia. Sophie wouldn’t like it, but Lok wasn’t up to fighting and between them the girls could protect him.

Lok’s two near-drownings had taken their toll; he was slower to respond than usual, tired more easily, and found it harder to battle.

It didn’t take him long to finish the Suits; they were all low level, not even challenging except through their numbers. He was advancing on the last one when Sophie screamed, “Lok, look out!”

Dante spun, trusting Caliban to watch his back, but he knew even as he turned he was too late. Zhalia was moving too, but half a step too slow; Lok took the Augurfrost to the chest and went down hard, unmoving.

Dante fired over Zhalia’s head, taking down Lok’s attacker, and she whirled past him to deal with the last Suit. Dante slid to his knees beside Lok; Sophie was already there, biting her lip as she examined him.

Dante ignored her protests to haul Lok to a sitting position; his breath was catching, labouring, but it eased as he raised. Bracing him carefully against his chest, he nodded for Sophie to continue.

“He’s not bleeding,” she said after a moment, “and I don’t think he’s broken any bones.” She sat back on her heels, lifting a hand as Cherit crawled into her lap.

Zhalia knelt beside Dante, touching Lok’s chest and forehead quickly. Dante caught her eye, frowning. “Ready?”

“Ready for what?” Sophie demanded.

Dante shifted Lok, freeing his other hand. “We’re gonna try and wake him up. It’ll make it easier to get him out of here.”

“Let me help.”

“You keep an eye on those guys,” Zhalia told her, gesturing to the Suits. “Once we start this, we can’t stop.” To Dante, she added, “Can you do it from there?”

“Good a time as any to find out.” He pressed his hand against Lok’s chest, over his heart, waiting for Zhalia to mirror him. “Ready?”

Sophie kept her back turned, watching the Suits for any signs of consciousness. Cherit was still curled into her arm, trembling against her.

The light from whatever Dante and Zhalia were doing cut off suddenly, and she blinked hard against the colours streaking her vision. Cherit scrambled up her arm, peering over her shoulder, but she still didn’t turn.

“Slowly,” Dante said warningly.

“Careful!” Zhalia added more sharply.

Cherit jumped from her shoulder and she heard Lok whuff as he caught him. A moment later he laughed, low and tired.

“Sophie, come on,” Dante said. “We have to go.”

Lok was on his feet when she turned, even if he was leaning heavily against Dante, but he was too pale and seemed somehow smaller than normal.

“What?” he asked when she just stared at him.

“N-nothing. Sorry. Are you alright?”

He made a face. “Feel like a herd of Titans trampled me.” Cherit made a protesting noise and he added, “Big ones. What’s wrong with me? I’ve been hit before.”

Dante moved towards the entrance, steadying Lok until he caught his balance. “You nearly drowned twice in the last week, Lok. Your lungs are weaker than normal and that hit shocked them.”

Zhalia hadn’t moved, and it took Sophie a moment to realise she was shaking. “Zhalia?”

“I’m alright,” the older girl said irritably, but it lacked her usual bite. Cherit flew back, alarmed, but she waved him off and headed after Dante.

Sophie stayed behind them, watching. Lok was walking well enough, but his sense of direction was shot; Dante couldn’t let go of him for long, because he would walk into the nearest wall sooner or later. Zhalia’s awareness of them was lessening; she almost walked into Dante each time he slowed or stopped, saved only by Cherit catching her hood or scarf and hauling her back.

“Dante,” Sophie called after the fifth near-collision, “how about a break?”

“We really need to get out of here,” Dante reminded her. “Those Suits will be waking up soon, if they haven’t already.”

“Five minutes?” She let her gaze slid deliberately to Zhalia, standing with her head down, and to Lok, leaning against the wall and not really hearing them. “Even after we get out of the tunnels, it’s forest for miles. At least it’s fairly warm and smooth underfoot down here.”

“Five minutes,” he agreed reluctantly.

Look dropped where he stood. Dante looked from him to Zhalia, but Sophie took the decision out of his hands by crossing to sit next to Lok. Behind her, she could hear Dante and Zhalia murmuring softly.

“Hey,” she said quietly, holding out her water bottle.

Lok tilted his head to look at her without lifting it from his knees. “Hey, Sophie,” he murmured, taking the bottle but making no effort to drink from it.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better’n Zhalia, I think.”

Sophie glanced over his shoulder. Zhalia had refused to sit down but she was leaning against the wall, talking quietly to Dante. The holotome was projecting the partial map of the tomb in front of them and they were studying it carefully.

“How is she?” Look asked quietly.

“She’s fine. Drink your water, Lok.”

“Well, if you’re going to ask nicely…” He lifted the bottle, swallowing several mouthfuls before tipping it over his head. Cherit flinched, abandoning him for Dante.

“Sophie?” Lok said quietly. “Where are we?”

“Still in the tunnels.” She took the empty bottle back from him, playing idly with it. “There’re still Suits around; it’s taking us longer to get back to the entrance because we have to avoid them.”

“Time to go,” Dante said from above them. “Lok, you ok?”

Lok accepted his hand up, glancing at Zhalia. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Let’s just get out of here. I’m sick of being so cold.”

Sophie flinched. It was damp down here, certainly, but it wasn’t at all cold. “Lok…”

“That’s fine,” Dante interrupted her. “It’s not far now.” Lok nodded, turning and heading away with one hand on the wall for balance.

“Dante,” Sophie protested.

“We can’t help him here.” He had to be tired too, she realised suddenly; she wondered if Zhalia had given more energy to the spell, or if Dante was just better at hiding it.

Zhalia paused beside them; she, at least, looked better for the rest. “He’s a strong kid,” she offered, eyes fixed firmly on Lok’s back. “He’ll be alright.”

Frustrated—there really wasn’t anything else to do, much as she hated it—Sophie took Cherit from Dante and headed after Lok.

“Tell me you at least called Guggneheim,” Zhalia murmured.

“No signal. It’ll have to wait until we’re back above.”

Zhalia sighed, following the kids, and Dante fell into step just behind them.

Naturally, they were in sight of the exit when it all went wrong.

Zhalia was pretty sure she knew all the Suits, and they should all have known her, but of the group of seven surrounding Dante’s team she only recognised two. Wearily, she prepared to fight; she wasn’t sure she had enough power to summon Gareon, let alone a more powerful Titan, and neither Lok nor Dante were in any better shape.

“Sophie,” Dante said quietly, apparently realising the same thing. He caught her arm when she turned, pulling her back to stand between them and in front of Lok. Zhalia nodded quickly; she could still fight hand-to-hand, if she had to, but Lok couldn’t even stand up straight right now.

Sophie rapidly invoked Sabrial and Icarus; Zhalia saw Dante going for Caliban’s amulet and reached to push his hand away. “You can’t,” she warned him.

“Hoplite!” Sophie yelled, adding “Honorguard!” a moment later.

“Zhalia,” Dante protested, reaching for Caliban again.

Zhalia took a step closer to him, behind Sophie now, ignoring how much she hated letting the poor little rich girl fight her battles for her. “If you go down, we all go down,” she hissed. “Sophie can’t get us out of here by herself, and I can’t help.”

“I can hear you,” Sophie protested. “Boltflare!—they’re figuring out something’s wrong.”

“They’re dumb, but not that dumb, considering Sophie’s the only one of us actually fighting,” Zhalia agreed.

“You don’t think I could take them?” Sophie grinned over her shoulder at them.

“Zhalia, can you throw a few flares?” Dante asked.

“No,” she said reluctantly. “But I can shield Lok. You two go fight.”

Dante nodded, pressing a hand to his shoulder. “Everfight!”

Zhalia leaned against the wall. She was absolutely exhausted, barely even able to keep her eyes open, but with any luck the Suits wouldn’t try too hard to defeat her.

A Mindrone hit the wall over their heads; she pushed Lok aside, wincing at his cry of pain, and yelled “Hyperstride!” just in time. The rush of energy left her dizzy, though, and she slammed hard into the ground, unable to even sit up let alone get out of there.

Cherit grabbed her scarf, tugging uselessly. “Up, up! Titans coming!”

Zhalia tried to swat him away, but her hand fell embarrassingly wide. Distantly, she heard the little Titan moan “Oh, my!” and Dante call “Cherit!” but the words were lost in the wave of energy that swept over her. Radiating out from her chest, it washed from head to toe, leaving her, if not back to normal, at least closer to it.

Cherit was out cold and she scooped him up as she rose. Dante was standing over Lok, ready to fight; she called another Hyperstride, marvelling at how much easier it was, slipping Cherit gently into Lok’s arms.

“Can you summon King Basilik?” Dante demanded.

Zhalia hesitated, examining herself. “Not for long. He’s too strong.”

“Boltflare! Call Kilthane, then.”

“Kilthane! Defend your lady!”

Dante and Kilthane set themselves against the incoming attacks; Zhalia crouched beside Lok, checking him over quickly. “You ok?”

“Sure,” he murmured. “You push hard.”

“Sorry.” She touched his arm lightly and he flinched, pulling away. “I’ll let you…Armorbrand! I’ll let the Mindrone hit you next time.”

Lok shifted. “I thought you were out of power.”

“Cherit charged me up.”

He looked down at the little Titan. “I guess you’re the better fighter.”

“It’s not about that. You’re sick. He can’t help with that.”

“I’m not…”

He broke off to cough harshly; Zhalia got an arm around his shoulder, hauling him to sit upright. “Want to try that again?” she asked dryly. Lok managed to roll his eyes while still coughing.

The wall behind them vanished without warning; Lok tumbled backwards, dragging Zhalia with him. They crashed down a steep slope, slamming into each other and the rocks at the sides of their path.

Zhalia managed to land mostly on the bottom, saving Lok the impact, but he’d knocked his arm again on the way. She allowed herself two breaths to recover before sliding carefully out from under him.

“Cherit?”

Cherit didn’t answer, still out from charging her up, but tucked into Lok’s shoulder he seemed to have escaped without injury.

Kilthane’s amulet flared as he retreated and she doubled over, breathing hard. The battle above them couldn’t be going very well for Dante.

Lok hadn’t moved yet, and he was breathing very quickly. Zhalia dropped to sit beside him; Cherit’s energy burst was wearing off, and her exhaustion was catching up to her. “Lok?”

“Ow,” he breathed, opening his eyes. “Dante?”

Zhalia shook her head. “Just us.”

“Where are they?”

“Still up there.”

He turned to look, hissing in pain and reaching for his head. “Oh, that’s not good,” he murmured, looking at the blood on his fingers.

Two Suits rounded the corner, checking slightly on seeing them. “Look, two little Foundation Foundlings,” the woman sneered.

Zhalia ignored them; Lok’s eyes had glazed and he wasn’t responding.

“Maybe we should help them out,” the male Suit suggested.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Zhalia snapped.

“We have orders to take the boy,” the woman told her. “Stand aside.”

“You know who I am?”

“We’re on Klaus’ orders.”

“So am I.” Zhalia rose to her feet, forcing herself into a defensive position. “You’re not touching him.”

“You want to fight us?” The Suits exchanged glances. “You wouldn’t last ten seconds, Zhalia.”

“Let’s see what Klaus says if you lay a hand on me.”

On the topic of sequels: the sequel for this is underway. It currently features an OC who, while not in any way the focus of the story, is in it quite a bit. Now, it could be rewritten without too much effort so the OC is Cathy, Lok's sister, instead. (She's almost an OC anyway, being as she's had about four lines and one scene, but nevermind that.) What's the fandom opinion on OCs? I don't want to be accused of writing the first Mary Sue in the Huntik fandom. :D

Testing, testing.

Tue, 10 Mar 2009 19:15:27 GMT

Just testing to see how this works. Don't mind me.