"So this is an Angel Stone?" asked Marin, turning the spherical ruby over in her hand as she stepped into her apartment and closed the front door behind her.

"Yes. The others should all be identical, and you should be able to find them in a similar manner." The dachshund looked smug.

"And they're all conveniently placed within walking distance of my apartment?"

"Convenient, isn't it?"

"I get the feeling—"

"You have a lot of feelings, girl. But in case you'd missed out on the past bunch of days, they're not important. Get with the program. You do what I say now. You find the Angel Stones. You don't ask questions."

"No questions?"

The dachshund growled threateningly.

"Alright, I'll get going on the next one. No sense wasting time."

"Attagirl," approved the dog. "You won't need to obey me anymore once you've gathered them all, after all!"

<i>Eerie, how pleased it seems by this notion,</i> thought Marin. <i>Well, no matter.</i> She set the Angel Stone she had collected on her desk by her keyboard, knelt, and closed her eyes, repeating the words in her mind: <i>from the darkness in my heart, a violent awakening.</i> 

"Whoa there, girlie!" was the last thing Marin heard, and then she couldn't open her eyes and then she couldn't think.

She awoke a while later, disoriented. Looking around, it shortly became obvious that she was lying on her bed. She tried to sit up but couldn't find the strength to do so. She heard some grating laughter and then the dachshund's head popped into view.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

"What happened?"

"Happened? Nothing! You're even weaker than I thought!" cackled the exuberant dog. "Can't even perform your search magic twice in a day without crumbling. Damn, did craiglist ever land me with a useless servant this time around."

Marin was, as usual, upset at the way in which the dog talked down to her, but she had no recourse and so merely lay there motionless.

"How did I get on to my bed?" she asked.

"Ma-gi-cal po-wers," answered the dachshund before laughing derisively.

"Unbelievable," muttered Marin.

"I can't hear you," prodded the dog, leering in the girl's face. "I think whatever you have to say, you'll have to say it when you've recovered your strength." Marin saw no reason to disagree with this; she was in no position to argue with the damn canine. She closed her eyes and let the darkness return. As she drifted off to sleep once more, she heard the dachshund add, "goodnight, sweet prince."