Power: Arca Book 3

by Karen Diem

  Zita became Arca and spun in a modified rasteira de costa. Her spinning back-kick hit his injured leg and sent him tumbling down. She propelled his gun under the transport with one foot and ran to get the bag from Tiffany.

  While she had been fighting, Tiffany had recovered enough to stop cuddling her satchel and withdraw a glass vial, rolling it between her fingers as she eyed the battlefield.

  Zita stilled, recognizing the ebony sludge roiling in the bottle. Her eyes darted around as she tried to guess where the woman would throw it. Tiffany had only two viable targets: Zita or Aideen, who floated in midair by an abandoned escort cruiser, scanning the area. The fiery woman drifted higher, revealing Wyn crouched below, a soft, verdant glow outlining her hand and a man with hideous burns lying at her feet. Zita’s stomach clenched. Wyn! Move before Tiffany gets you!

  As if in slow motion, Zita saw her friend look up, the healing spell fading from her hand.

  Tiffany smirked and wound up for a sloppy overhand pitch.

  Wyn flinched. She tugged at her patient, clearly trying to get him to safety.

  “Napalm!” Zita shouted, pointing at Tiffany and hoping to distract her.

  Aideen’s head turned at the shout, then she focused on Tiffany.

  Tiffany smirked at Wyn and threw. “Pretender,” she slurred.

  “No.” Aideen flicked a speck of fire at the bottle almost immediately after it left the hand of the evil sorceress.

  Acting on instincts, Zita dove away.

  The bottle exploded into iridescent ebony and orange flames in midair. Most of it splattered the ground around Tiffany, who screamed, a high, shrill sound, as napalm hit her left side, arm, and face. She collapsed, twisting and screeching.

  Aideen rose higher in the air, more fire swirling between her fingers as she drifted away. Her previous injuries were gone.

  Horrified, Zita called out, “Muse, be ready to heal Tiffany.” She sprinted after Aideen. “Oye, Fireball! Put out the flames on that woman!”

  Wyn nodded, ending her spell on her current patient. She murmured something to him and ran to Tiffany’s side.

  “Why? She attempted to kill me,” Aideen said, floating and scanning the area. “Where’d that blond asshole go?”

  “Because a woman is burning to death and nobody deserves that?” Zita growled. You stubborn, self-righteous bitch, she thought. Squinting at Aideen, she remembered the trick that had worked before. No one else is close to me, so at least nobody else is in danger if I piss her off too much. “Oh, I see. It’s beyond your powers to put out the weird fire, then.”

  Crouching by the writhing woman, Wyn sent, I can’t extinguish it on my own. If I can get close enough, I can remove the magic.

  Aideen narrowed the dark caverns that passed for her eyes and casually rolled flames over her knuckles. “No fire is beyond me.”

  Zita pointed at Tiffany. “Prove it, then.” She put as much mockery into her voice as she could.

  Aideen whirled to face Tiffany’s form, which had stopped making noise and now merely convulsed. Raising her arms, Aideen spread her fingers wide.

  The sickening flames reduced, but still lined half of the sorceress’ body.

  Doubt trickled in. Tiffany stopped screaming and went limp. The heat coming off Aideen increased until Zita was forced to back up. Oye, what if she really can’t stop it? Even if I could apply mud as fast as Remus, pouring highway roadside dirt on open burns would kill her anyway.

  As her fingers danced in a complicated pattern, Wyn stayed a few feet away from Tiffany, whispering something.

  The flames went out, though whether that was from the magic or Aideen’s efforts was uncertain. Nothing of Tiffany’s face was recognizable. The portion of arm Zita could see was horrifically burnt, and glimpses of charred bone below it seemed even worse.

  Aideen turned and drifted away. “Told you.”

  I’m afraid to touch the poor woman, but I don’t think I have a choice. Wyn rushed over, and set her hand on Tiffany’s ankle, the uninjured one, murmuring the words of her healing spell. A familiar green glow, like the first buds of spring, sprang up. She’s dying. You’d think Aideen would have more sympathy given I just healed her from some nasty wounds a few minutes ago.

  Zita rubbed her own arms. Tiffany’s a horrible person, but nobody deserves to go like that. Also, we’re so not having barbecue for lunch.

  A hum of acknowledgment came from Wyn, who bent over the sorceress, her healing spell bright against the charred, black, and oozing mess.

  Tiffany’s form began to lose some of its tenseness.

  A howl from across the battlefield preceded Garm’s attack. He charged at Wyn. “Halja!” he shouted, calling Tiffany’s chosen name.

  Shifting to a feral pig, Zita blocked him.

  He backed off, his eyes wild. “Call off your friend.”

  I wish I could talk in animal form, Zita grumped. I don’t dare change shape though for fear he’ll get Wyn.

  Give me just a few more, her friend sent. Healing takes time, and I haven’t even finished with the worst of it.

  The wolf lunged, all rationality gone from his eyes.

  Zita intercepted and blocked again, tossing him against a nearby vehicle. Doing what I can. She returned to her Arca form. “She’s trying to save Tiffany, not hurt her. Back off!”

  He staggered to his feet and howled again.

  When the hair on the back of her neck rose, and her instincts screamed, Zita ducked and rolled. Lightning crashed where she had been, close enough to taste the ozone and feel her hair prickle from the static. They’re too many and too powerful. I really want to punch them all in the nose.

  Garm lunged for Wyn, the great wolf still limping from Zita’s last hit.

  Her ears rang from the closeness of the lightning. Zita shifted to a rhino. Intercepting Garm’s charge, she angled her big body so he bounced off. While he was stunned, she charged and tossed him aside. Her stomach curled into a hard lump at the blood oozing down her horn and the crack of bone from the wolf when he’d impacted against the side of the other prison van. Andy, I can’t fight Zeus and Garm both at once and protect Wyn. Speaking of which, is the healing almost done?

  Words tumbled out from Wyn’s end of the telepathic link, sounding both panicked and distracted. I’m hurrying. The spell can only go so fast, and it’s fixing the big stuff first, but there’s so much damage it’ll take a while to get it all.

  “Pretorius! Come fetch Halja. The stupid bitch is injured, and her lapdog is useless,” Zeus shouted.

  To protect her friend, Zita thundered closer. Oye, Andy, we need you. It’s three on one here. I’m outmatched and Wyn’s exposed.

  Sorry, Zeus threw something at some cops, and I had to help. Pavement crunched as Andy did one of his preternaturally long jumps to join them.

  Zita shifted to Arca, splitting her attention between their enemies. “Take as many of them as you want.”

  Andy cracked his knuckles. “It’d help if they’d land,” he grumbled. Bending his knees, he jumped into the air and swung at Zeus. When he landed, he backhanded Garm, who had recovered enough to creep toward Wyn again. The casual blow sent the wolf flying back into the other police transport again, making it rock and the men hiding behind it swear.

  Heat and light exploded overhead. “Hey! I’m not done with you!” Aideen shouted, lobbing a ball of fire at Pretorius, forcing him to dodge and halt his slow flight.

  As Zita stood guard, she heard a gurgling sound from inside the truck. A quick check revealed a pair of female guards, both of whom were well beyond help, and a man in a blood-spattered lab coat, who twitched and held out a hand, imploring without words. Carajo, she swore. Garm’s still healing, and Andy seems to have Zeus under control. Aideen and Pretorius are keeping each other busy.

  “One injured in the truck!” Running to the medic, Zita stripped off the man’s lab coat and examined him to figure out the source of all the blood, hoping to slow the bleeding long enough to get him to
her friend. To her horror, she saw a long, thin piece of metal buried in the medic’s chest, the end just poking out. That’s not in his heart, but it’s awfully close. I don’t dare move him, and his breathing sounds awful wet. This is so far beyond my first aid certification.

  “Dying… don’t… alone,” the man coughed, his brown eyes pained and frightened.

  Zita winced. “We’ll see about that.” Afraid any other movement would bump the shard into an even worse position, she kneeled and took his bloody hand. “Muse! If you’ve got Halja stable, this guy won’t make it without your spell.” She repeated herself mentally, in case her friend hadn’t heard her.

  Eyes sliding shut, the man’s fingers twitched in Zita’s. “Not… alone.”

  “Hey now, no dying on me. You hang on, hombre.” Zita squeezed his hand and checked over her shoulder on her friend’s progress. Guilt pulled at her; she should have been able to figure out a way to stop the bad guys from getting into the vans.

  Aideen appeared to be exchanging blows with Pretorius again, while Andy fought Zeus, or at least tried to as much as was possible. His quarry could fly and seemed disinclined to stand still and let Andy punch him. From behind trees, and any other cover they could find, the police appeared to be adopting a slow, orderly forward movement to end the standoff with the gunmen.

  It felt as if Zita had been watching the others fight for centuries when Wyn finally joined her and the fading patient.

  “Halja still needs help but… Oh, Goddess help us all. Right.” Brow furrowing, Wyn said, “Would you please remove that without making the injury any worse than necessary? My spell can’t heal with the metal there, and he won’t survive much longer. Once it’s out, press the lab coat to keep him from bleeding out. I don’t know if I can do this, Z… Arca.” Despite her words, and the way she gnawed on her lower lip, her gestures were precise. Her hands ignited with the verdant light of the healing spell as she set them on the injured man.

  “We both know you’re a badass witch. You got this.” Zita prayed silently as she released his hand, trying hard not to leak the mental plea on the party line. Dios, I hope she’s got this. And that she didn’t just hear me doubt her.

  The semi-conscious man made a protesting sound, and his fingers grabbed weakly at the air.

  “Be strong, dude. This’ll hurt a lot, but my friend’s awesome and is going to save you,” Zita said, nearly choking on her own fake Mexican accent, her nerves drawn taut. She eyed the injury and the offending metal, and took a grip, mentally calculating where the bones and organs likely were.

  Wyn inhaled, squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded at Zita.

  After another prayer, Zita pulled out the shard. Blood fountained from the injury, and she pressed the wadded lab coat over it as fast as possible to lessen the flow, discarding the metal on the floor. “Now!”

  Their patient made a gurgling moan.

  Wyn’s lips moved, and her chanting took on an almost frantic tone.

  Although she knew it wouldn’t help the spell, Zita crossed herself and muttered a quick Hail Mary under her breath, her other hand holding the makeshift pad to the wound. She averted her eyes from the dead guards staring accusingly at her from the floor of the vehicle. It’s much easier when I can just kick a thug or fly away.

  A discordant noise, like someone bellowing, belching, and gargling all at once, rose above the scattered gunshots and shouting. It startled Zita out of her self-recrimination. Was that a howler monkey? In Maryland?

  As she craned her neck to see outside the vehicle, she caught the glimmer of a large hole, the edges lit by an incandescent glow. As she watched, Pretorius, carrying Tiffany, disappeared through it, followed closely by Garm’s furry tail. A few surviving escapees followed.

  At the edge of the portal he had generated, Janus braced himself, pale and unhappy in the bland beige polo shirt and khaki pants more suitable for summer resort staff than a Maryland jailbreak in October. If possible, the teenage boy seemed even more malnourished than their prior encounter. Constant shivers wracked his gangly frame.

  Raising the bullhorn to his lips, Zeus paused by the portal. “You can’t stop or hold us unless we let you. Give up and just surrender before our power!” He smirked and tossed lightning at the truck where Zita and Wyn worked.

  Andy threw himself between them, and the bolt dissipated around him. A moment later, he moved out of the way. “Guys? He’s gone.”

  Wyn glanced up and smiled. “But this man’s not. I think he’ll survive. Thank you both for helping.”

  As Zita sat back on her heels, relief flooded her. She released the makeshift pad she’d been holding and retreated to the edge of the vehicle where she could see more of the action outside. “And you were worried. I knew you had it.”

  Although Wyn quirked an eyebrow, her smile faded as she gestured at something behind Andy.

  He turned, and they all watched as the portal closed, leaving the boy behind.

  “Janus! Now’s your chance! If you run, they won’t know for a while!” Zita shouted.

  The teenager turned and stared at her for a long moment before he flexed his shoulders and shook his head. He flinched at a burst of gunfire.

  “Come on, Janus, you know you don’t want to help them!” Zita willed him to run for it.

  He gestured, and another, smaller portal opened. He jumped through it and disappeared. The glowing hole closed behind him.

  Light flashed like a grenade as a new portal dumped out Janus by the cement truck. When it closed a second later, he ripped open yet another, pulling on the edges of it until a giant rectangle appeared in front of the vehicle. The engines started up, and the truck drove through, followed by the sixteen-wheeler loaded with the metal rods. A thug toting an AR-15 and the teen leapt through it. The portal disappeared behind them.

  Chapter Four

  After an instant, Zita realized she hadn’t heard any gunfire for a while, but a persistent knocking sound in a short, sharp pattern came from somewhere. Wyn and the newly healed medic peeked out from the transport next to her.

  “I’m getting a better view,” she said, shifting to a gavião-real and launching herself.

  Beside the road, the cops slowly emerged, guns down but still out. Zeus’ people had disappeared, leaving behind only their injured, their dead, and their smoldering dead.

  Aideen hovered by the news van, hands on her hips.

  Jerome set down a bloody police officer by an ambulance and sauntered back toward the highway, his head turning side-to-side as he scanned the area.

  Andy and Wyn escorted the medic from the prison van to the line of ambulances, with Wyn peeling off to kneel by someone on the ground.

  Zita tilted her head and adjusted her wing angle. Knocking? Why do I hear knocking? It’s loudest near those downed poles, but you couldn’t pay me to go in there.

  The pounding throb of approaching helicopters drowned out the sound, and she swooped lower.

  No one lingered by the snapping electrical lines, but motion in the blackened bucket truck caught her eye, and Zita stared that direction. She landed nearby, not so close that her feathers rose with the proximity of the dangerous voltage, but near enough to allow her avian eyes to determine what was inside.

  Zita changed to her Arca shape. “Carajo, someone’s alive in there,” she said, staring at the pitted truck trapped in the middle of the live wires. As she watched, an eye-searing bolt shot out and raced over the vehicle, sinking into the surrounding ground.

  Another series of thunks sounded, and a dark shape moved in the front seat.

  She winced and steeled herself. Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems. Her instincts screaming against every step, she approached the zone of broken poles and tangled, sparking wires. When the fine hairs on her arms stood on end, she stopped. It’s obvious I’m not the right woman for the job. Fortunately, I know who is. Hey, Andy! I need you over here. Someone’s alive in the bucket truck between the broken electric poles.

  His tone
dry and long-suffering, Andy responded quickly. Did you call me a girl, then ask for my help? Why are we friends again? I’m helping Wyn with the wounded.

  Zita shrugged, unwilling to admit she had not meant to share all of her thoughts. Because we’re smart enough to know the difference between friends ribbing each other and actual insults? Seriously, dude, someone needs you.

  A moment later, the sharp snap of breaking asphalt sounded behind her, and she heard familiar running footsteps. “Where? There? You’ve got to be kidding. Nobody’s alive in that.”

  Zita blew out air in a huff. “You survived it earlier, and I heard them. If they stay in the truck, it’s eventually going to burst into flames, explode, or melt around them. On the bright side—you’d get a free massage out of it.”

  Andy opened his mouth to protest, but whoever was in the vehicle lifted their arms and hit the door. “Weirdly enough, you’re right. Someone is there. I’m on it.” He rubbed his arms, then the back of his neck, and took a few deep breaths. As he raced into the area, he flinched whenever a bolt came near him but didn’t seem to notice when they struck him from behind.

  “Oye, it is not weird that I’m right!” she called after him, backing away from the electricity. She glanced over to check on Wyn, who still knelt by the same person, her illusory face intent and the familiar glow of her healing magic emanating from her hands.

  Andy walked by, carrying the truck overhead. “Do I need to tell you how many laws of physics it breaks that I can do this without ripping it apart?”

  “Please don’t. We’ve already heard it,” Zita said.

  Wyn concurred. Indeed. I can recite the last several diatribes where you protested that our powers, and those of people like us, are sometimes more convenient than science would seem to allow.

  Please don’t start the magic versus science debate again. We need to go before the cops arrest us and I miss lunch. Zita frowned at Wyn.

  Your priorities are at least consistent, Zita. Wyn’s words carried a laugh as she ended her spell and eased away from the person on the ground.