by Amy Sumida
“El, you really should start lifting,” Cer said as Jago let him out of his cell.
Cerberus swept me up into a hug before Jago could get between us.
“All right, come on now.” Jago nudged my back. “I get it; you love each other. That's adorable.”
“She's been my best friend for over two-hundred years, Jag-off.” Cerberus stepped back from me only to glower at Jago. “If you weren't such an asshole, you might have a friend like her too. And then you'd understand.”
“I have friends.” Jago's whole body looked disgruntled as he pushed both of us forward. “You know where it is, Dog-turd. Get to walking.”
I shot Cerberus a look, and he smirked at me. He liked Jago. Yeah, okay; the gargoyle guard was growing on me too—like a smelly foot fungus.
We strode out of the cell block and into a courtyard. I took a deep breath and stared up at the cavern's ceiling. It was so odd not to see the sky above me. The ventilation in the Zone was good enough that there was even a slight breeze moving against my face. It felt as if I were truly outside. But even though the lights, far overhead in the cave ceiling, were dimmed to resemble stars, they weren't real stars and there was no moon among them. I had walked out of one cell and into another. The best prisons had layers—levels to break through before you reached freedom—and the Zone was a damn fine prison.
There were already several beneathers working out in the yard; all under the supervision of gargoyle guards. I walked by a wendigo doing push-ups, and he stopped to look up at me as if he felt my stare. At least his collar kept him from shifting into his monster form. Wendigos could transform into the walking dead; gaunt bodies, ashen skin stretched over bones like a fist against plastic film, tattered and bloody lips. He would have smelled like death too. But even though the eyes he raised to me weren't sunken in his skull, they were still full of malice.
I winked at him and moved on. Never let them see you sweat. Speaking of which...
“Hey, beautiful.” It was the thunderbird who'd asked Jago about me.
His long hair was braided back from his face; out of the way while he did pull-ups on a bar. His biceps bulged as he lifted himself up, and then he dropped to his feet gracefully and leaned against the pole to leer at me. He was bare-chested and gorgeous; all golden-brown skin and hard-earned muscles. But the look he gave me was broadcasting all the things he wanted to do to me; bloody things involving claws and a rending beak.
“Look at her like that again, and I'll carve you up like a Thanksgiving turkey,” Cerberus said casually to him.
The thunderbird smirked, but he also looked away.
“What's up, Edgar?” Cerberus called over to a cynocephalus.
The dog-headed man nodded in greeting. His hands were too busy clinging to a weight bar to wave; curling up what had to be over three-hundred pounds. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he panted.
“I usually train here.” Cerberus waved at an open weight bench. “But we can move over there for today.” Cer pointed at another bench that was a few feet away from a wooden picnic table and started ambling toward it.
The yard was full of all sorts of equipment but they were pretty basic; benches, weights, pull up bars, dipping bars, kettlebells, and a couple of primitive pulley stations. Most of the equipment was being used but a few of the prisoners stood in groups socializing. And there were more women than I'd expected. One was a stunning kitsune; a fox-shifter who had fluffy tails even in her human form. And yes, I said tails as in plural. The more tails a kitsune had (up to nine) the more powerful they were. This lady had the ultimate amount; a silky mass that wrapped around her feet like a furry train. She slanted a sly glance at me and smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. The wendigo hadn't disturbed me as much as this lady did.
I climbed up on the picnic table; sitting on the top with my feet on the bench so I had a good view of the yard with my back to the wall. Jago had left as soon as we reached the yard; leaving us in the care of the numerous guards who were already posted there. The gargoyles stood in a loose circle around us with even more of them along the entire length of the wall. Sharp, gray eyes scanned everything; inside and out of the facility.
“There are some dumbbells over there.” Cerberus nodded to a collection of weights. “Do some biceps curls or something; you look like a pussy sitting there.”
I grimaced at Cer as he added more weights to the barbell that was laid across his bench. Each disc had “100 lbs” cast into it. I didn't realize they went that high. Maybe they were special, beneather weights. I shook my head as he added the third disc on the left side; it had started with one. I picked up a ten-pound dumbbell and lugged it to the table. Climbing back on my perch, I scanned the area again and scowled as I saw a naga approaching us. I set my elbow on my knee and started absently curling my forearm up as I focused on the naga.
“Incoming,” I murmured to Cer.
Cerberus stopped what he was doing to turn around. An annoyed expression settled on his face. He crossed his arms and waited for the man to reach us.
The naga was in his man form; only his vibrant, green, snake eyes betraying his race. I was starting to appreciate the collars we were forced to wear. I dearly did not want to see this guy in his snake form. He smiled viciously at me and flashed a pair of needle-thin fangs; one more clue that he was a naga. I hated nagas; most of them were the kind of mean that you get from having a bad childhood. But Nagas weren't the victims of child abuse, they were born like that. I heard they were hatched from eggs; just like Griffins. But where Griffins are known to be noble creatures, Nagas were known to be... well... snakes.
“You're on my bench,” the naga hissed.
“My girl's out here today; she needs a seat. So, I'm working out here,” Cerberus said. “Do me a favor and use another bench.”
It was damn polite for Cerberus, and I lifted a brow at him in surprise. He didn't usually respond well to the type of tone the naga had used.
“I don't want to use another bench,” the naga said. “I want this one.”
I looked at Cerberus. Yep; there went the polite act.
“Fuck off, fang-boy.” Cerberus hunched forward as if he were about to launch himself at the naga.
The gargoyle guards started edging closer; electric rods at the ready.
“You're getting a lot of attention,” I warned them.
But neither man heard me; they were too busy tossing testosterone at each other. The naga narrowed his snake eyes and then leapt at Cerberus. I groaned as Cer gave him an uppercut that sent the snake flying. But the naga didn't stay down. In fact, he'd barely hit the ground before he twisted about and flung himself back at Cerberus.
The other prisoners cheered and gathered around as the guards shouted and closed in. But the brawling men ignored everyone and just started bashing each other.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I saw the naga's head reel back; his fangs lifted to strike.
Naga venom was deadly but not to immortals. Still, it would sting and possibly paralyze Cerberus for a minute or two. Enough time for the naga to tear out Cer's throat. So, I tossed the dumbbell at his head.
Everyone froze as the naga's head whipped back from the blow of metal to his cranium. Cerberus laughed and used the distraction to grab the naga's neck. But as he choked the snake (so many jokes), it did a perfect Taekwondo side kick. Not at Cerberus but at me. I was knocked off the table and into a pumped-up satyr. The goat-man made a screaming, grating sound and punched me in the face; sending me reeling into a suparna. The suparna shoved me into the kitsune. Her nails sank into my arms as I jerked away; leaving bloody trails that dripped down my arms. I hit the back of the thunderbird, and he turned around to reach for me; his eyes lighting up like it was Christmas morning.
I was getting sick of the spellsinger ping-pong ball routine, but I wasn't about to stop on the thunderbird paddle. I lurched away, but the thunderbird grabbed me. His face lowered to mine; his stare holding me frozen as he lifted my left arm and lic
ked the blood away. He closed his eyes and shivered. I kneed him in the balls and ran.
The thunderbird howled but there was a look on his face that said he'd enjoyed the pain. It was foreplay for him.
“El!” Cerberus shouted.
The gargoyle guards were busy brandishing their wands; sending prisoners trembling to the ground in palsy. But they had acted too late. The entire training yard had joined the fun. It was a fucking bloodbath, and there I was with my magic suppressed and the physical strength of a wounded wombat.
Okay, I wasn't quite that weak. I could hold my own, but against the likes of the beneathers in that yard, I definitely felt like a crippled marsupial. I was about to get my ass handed to me from all sorts of bad motherfuckers. Still, I wasn't going down easy. I punched, kicked, and even bit my way to Cer's side. By the time we reached each other; I was bleeding all over the packed dirt.
“Stand down or I will fucking start shooting!” Slate stood at the edge of the training yard with his guards.
He had a grenade launcher pointed at the mass of writhing, punching, hissing beneathers. Everyone froze. Then they slowly backed away from each other; bloody hands lifted in the air and stares focused on the barrel of the gun. Most beneathers could survive a gunshot but the rounds in that monster weapon would be enough to kill one of us with a single hit. Slate's eyes roamed the lot of us; pausing on me briefly before moving on.
“Get them back in their cells; training is canceled until further notice,” Slate snapped.
The prisoners muttered angrily but wiped the blood off their faces and went peacefully back to their cells. As peacefully as a bunch of murdering psychopaths could go. Jago came to collect me and Cer. We were the last group to head inside.
“You okay?” Jago asked as he brushed some blood off my lip with his thumb.
I was startled by the gentle, intimate act and stared at Jago warily.
“Yeah; she's fine, Jag-off.” Cer pushed Jago's hand away. “Stop touching my girl like you're in love or something.”
“I was just checking to see if she needed a healer.” Jago sounded gruff but his expression looked embarrassed.
“She heals fast enough on her own; leave her be.” Cer stood between us; staring Jago down.
“Is there a problem?” Slate's voice cracked over us like a whip.
“No problem, Boss.” Jago smirked at Cer. “The Hound is just howling a bit about his bitch.”
“She's not my bitch; don't ever fucking call her that,” Cer snarled at Jago. Then he transferred his glare to Slate. “You need to tell your guards to keep their wandering hands to themselves. And that goes for you too, fucker. I've seen the way you look at her.”
“Bad move, demon-dog,” Jago muttered under his breath as he backed away.
Slate's eyes flashed like lightning, and he started to move toward Cerberus. Cer tensed; eager for the fight. I rolled my eyes; knowing that I was going to get another beating because I'd be damned if I let Cerberus fight Slate alone. I moved forward into the fray.
Before a single blow landed, we were all tossed to the ground as if a giant hand had slapped us down.
Cerberus grabbed me and tucked me into his side as the earth rolled beneath us. Screams came from the civilians on the other side of the wall but those of us within the confines of the metal fence were silent with wariness. My eyes shot around me at the quaking stone buildings; wondering how these gargoyles could be stupid enough to build an underground city over a fault. But then the quake abruptly stopped. It didn't peter out; it just stopped. Five to zero on the Richter scale in a second.
I glanced at Cerberus as he helped me to my feet. He scowled at me and then turned that scowl on Slate.
“What kind of dumb fuck builds a zone over a fault? Where the fuck are we; California? You fuckers better not have taken me to California!” Cerberus and I thought a lot alike when it came to stuff like that. The fault thing, not the California thing.
“There is no fault below us,” Slate growled as he stared around himself furiously.
“Then why did we just get tossed around like a fucking James Bond martini?” Cerberus snapped.
“I don't fucking know!” Slate shouted and then clenched his teeth together.
No; this man did not like to lose his cool.
Cerberus went still. He glanced sideways at me. “Not good.”
I shook my head.
“At least he didn't pull the trigger accidentally.” I waved my hand at the beast of a gun Slate was still holding.
“You three”—Slate motioned at some gargoyles—“get out there and find me the epicenter of that quake.”
“Wouldn't it be hypocenter since we're below ground?” I asked snidely.
Slate sliced his stare back at me. “No; the hypocenter is the focus point where the quake originates. It obviously originated below us, despite the fact that we're underground. Thus, the point I want them to find will still be the epicenter.”
“Don't fuck with a gargoyle when it comes to any sort of earth-related terminology,” Jago said with a grin.
I just shrugged.
“Get them back to their cells and then meet me upstairs,” Slate said to Jago.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Jago murmured.
“And keep your hands to yourself, Jago,” Slate tossed over his shoulder.
Jago grimaced.
“You know; you have the best bloodhound in all the realms here, and I don't mean me,” Cerberus called after Slate. “You'd be a fool not to use every advantage you have available to you.”
Slate stopped, turned on his heel, and stared at me.
“What the fuck, Cer?” I hissed at him.
“Help him and get us the fuck out of here, El,” Cer hissed back.
“He's not going to let us go because I solve a fucking earthquake riddle,” my voice rose with my irritation.
“No; I won't,” Slate agreed. “But I might be inclined to grant you a few perks.”
“Perks?” I asked warily. “Like what?”
“First tell me what you can do.”
“I spellsing,” I said blandly. “If I can put it into a song, I can make it happen. Have you learned nothing from watching me every day?”
“You can make anything happen?” Slate asked with the smallest measure of shock.
“Anything,” Cer said smugly.
“I'm limited by lyrics and intent,” I added.
“And are there lyrics that can discover why an earthquake hit a zone that's never been shaken before?” Slate kept his stare on me.
“I can figure something out.”
Slate looked back and forth between Cer and I. “Better meals for both of you.”
Cerberus perked up, but I rolled my eyes. Food? Oh, please.
“What do you want?” Slate asked me.
“I want time out of my cell somewhere that I don't have to deal with the other inmates.” I crossed my arms and lifted my bloody face. “Every day. And also better food for Cer and me. And I want books. I saw the other prisoners with books. Action and horror; no non-fiction.”
“Books?” Cerberus huffed. “How about a fucking television?”
“And a working television for Cerberus; either with cable or DVDs if you can't catch cable down here,” I added.
Cerberus grinned. “Thanks, El.”
I nodded at him. I got you, buddy.
Slate smirked. “Done. But I want results.”
“I can't guarantee that I'll give you the answer you want to hear, but I will find the truth for you,” I said confidently. “Whatever truth there is.”
Slate waved me over with a quick flick of his hand. I glanced at Cerberus before I went, and he winked at me. That man had more confidence in me than my mother.
The Zone Lord looked me up and down. The loose cotton tunic and pants I'd worn out to the yard were covered in dirt and blood; as was my body. He grimaced at the muck and then jerked his head toward Building 1; AKA Gargoyle Headquarters. I'd noticed the sign poste
d on the building during my few minutes of peace in the training yard. Who the hell lives in a place called Building 1? What was this; the Gargoyle Military?
It wasn't as if there was a horde of buildings in the complex that needed numbering. There was Building 1, Building 2 (the cell block), and then the arena that joined them. I didn't see a sign on the arena. Technically, they were all one structure. It was ridiculous to number them.