Power: Arca Book 3

by Karen Diem

  Zita lowered the rag and the cleanser in her hands. “You’re welcome, but you’re on your own with the bedroom and fixing the hole where the soda bottle was. So, dude, about Brandi…”

  Andy groaned. “Et tu, Brute? You’re the last person I thought would want to dissect the crash and burn of my relationship with her. Even my stepdad was higher on the list of people wanting to ‘help,’ and he hardly talks at all.”

  “I don’t want to,” Zita said.

  “Good, because people need to stop asking me about it. Our breakup was for the best. She’s safer, and I don’t have to worry about hurting her with my cursed strength anymore.”

  Zita blinked. “Uh…”

  “I’m doing fine. I don’t need a relationship. It’s better—I’m better—without one, and I’m plenty busy.”

  She tried again, curling her fingers into the cleaning cloth in her frustration. “Mano—”

  He interrupted. “So, you go tell Wyn you tried, and we can go back to not talking, understand?”

  Zita threw the rag at him. “Will you let me finish? All I was going to say about Brandi was that she’s real happy we kept our promise to give out the experimental sportswear. She sent a whole new batch via Remus, with a few extras for us, including masks in the special material so we don’t keep losing them. Plus a bunch more to hand out, of course. Wyn and I got the distribution covered, but we need to know if you want the shirt to match the pants you wore home the other day.”

  Andy deflated. “Oh. I suppose so.”

  She huffed. “Fine. We’ll get it from Wyn when we see her next. She’s keeping the spares in her magic purse because it’s easier to hand it all out that way.” Pausing, she decided a good friend would probably say something sympathetic and struggled to find the right words. “I’m sorry about your breakup. If you want to go spar or something, I’m here for you even though you’ve been blowing me off for the past month and a half. Given all that other stuff you just said, I guess you’re still all chingado about the whole thing.”

  He sighed and turned his face away. “I don’t need a pep talk, Zita. Or whatever this is supposed to be.”

  She snorted. “Like I’m the person to give one of those about relationships? Brandi might make a sweet set of gear that works with our powers, but she’s an idiot to dump your ass… unless you mentioned your plans to stop showering and hanging with your friends. ‘Cause seriously, mano, going without bathing is not one of your superpowers.” Zita made a face and pretended to gag in case he missed her meaning.

  Her friend turned back around to scowl at her.

  “Don’t make a face at me. I’m just telling it like it is. You ditched us after the Water Balloon Death Run 3000 when we had all agreed to go to that buffet near the obstacle course. Who does that? It was all-you-can-eat, and they had the giant snow crab legs and a sundae bar! It’s inconceivable you would skip it! Just inconceivable!”

  “I don’t think that word means what you think… Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” He fidgeted. “Wasn’t hungry, and not all of us are slaves to our stomachs. Look, I’m not good company right now anyway—”

  Zita waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve made some dick moves lately, but you’re still our friend. Wyn and I don’t give a shit about you amusing us. After all, we know you, or did before you stopped sparring or responding to texts or anything, even when Wyn emailed that really funny cat picture.”

  “If you’re working through a script of some sort, you can skip to the sympathy part,” he said.

  With a mirthless laugh, Zita hefted a barbell and carried it over to the newly dusted set in the corner. She placed it next to its mate after a couple quick bicep curls. “No script here. You want sympathy, talk to Wyn. She’s dying to pat your hand and give you ice cream. Me? I think you’re doing just fine with your own sorry little pity party, but it’s time to end it.”

  “Wow. Can you be less sympathetic?”

  She rolled her eyes. “If I didn’t feel bad for you, I wouldn’t have given you more than a month to put on your big girl panties… or Spider-Man boxers, whatever.”

  Andy frowned. “The fact that you know anything about my underwear is frightening, but at least you recognized Spider-Man.”

  Waving a hand at the overflowing basket in the corner, Zita said, “His name is on the butt of that pair right there. My point is, if you can’t handle it yourself, you need to talk to somebody.”

  His face flushed with color. Andy edged over, picked up a shirt that had fallen from the basket, and draped it over the top of his boxers. “Yes, why give me any hope you could recognize a hero? Who could I talk to, anyway? Don’t say yourself. I can’t take much more tough love.”

  Zita waved her hands in frustration and paced, now that she’d cleared enough space to do so. “It doesn’t have to be me. Wyn’d be a good choice, but I know you haven’t spoken to her about anything. She’s made it clear, and so did your office.” I’m probably the third-worst choice in the world to be his confidante, coming in only after Miguel, who has to remove the stick lodged in his ass first, and the Squirrel King, who badly needs medication and a serious vacation from the rodents. Still, I have to try.

  He stopped and glanced at his computer. “My office?”

  “The one you used to have. About a week after we got back from New York, I went by your office at the university to see if you wanted to hit this street picnic with free food samples. Imagine my surprise when they told me they let you go at the start of the semester.”

  Andy looked away. “Oh, that.”

  “What happened?”

  “A post-doctoral student works cheap, but a graduate student is cheaper,” he said, his mouth a tight line.

  She winced. “Did you tell anyone?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Other than you, my dad’s the only one who knows. I had to explain why my rent would be late. He’s got me doing apprentice stuff for Cristovano Heating, Ventilation, and Air Conditioning, and has even been talking about adding an ‘And Son’ for me. So?”

  Zita winced. “First off, that sucks. I know you don’t mind doing HVAC to help your dad’s company, but it’s not what you want to do. Second, Wyn will notice eventually since she still works on campus. You should tell her before that, or you’ll be the one in trouble with her this time.”

  “We don’t need to mention it to her.”

  Zita ran a hand over her short, uneven hair. How long does he think he can keep a secret from a mind reader? She snorted. “I’m not lying about it. I just got out of the doghouse with her, and I’m not going back, even if you add air conditioning.”

  His mouth twisted. “Sure, side with her.”

  Knowing how much he hated it when people pointed, especially at him, Zita put her hands on her hips. “Oye, it’s not a war. I won’t say anything unless she asks me direct. If that happens, I’m busting out the truth. I have enough trouble lying to my family about my powers and where we go sometimes. Wyn is going loca wanting to cheer you up. Helping you find a job will distract her from finding you a date. Plus, she needs something to do other than obsessing over the lawsuit mess with her parents and her sick aunt and when’s the right time to tell her new girlfriend her real identity behind the illusion.” Did I just play the guilt card like a pro? I think I did. And Miguel thinks I never learned anything from him.

  Emotion flickered on his face. “How is she?” he asked, his voice gruff, even if he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  Zita shrugged. “Hanging in there. Her lawyer says the lawsuit is meant as a nuisance suit, and that her parents are hoping for a payout to make it go away. Apparently, they’ve got a history of such cases behind them and are doing the minimal effort thing. It’s a lawsuit, so it’s slow. She visits her aunt regular to keep her from getting worse. For the dating stuff, ask her, but I get the impression it’s going well. She gets that goofy smile thing when she talks about it.”

  He grunted.

  Touching his arm, she leaned closer.
“Andy, you should tell her. She might know somebody who can get you a job that doesn’t involve possible gas furnace explosions.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that for a while. Thanks for reminding me of a truly stellar day in the world of HVAC.” Andy rolled his eyes before his face lost even that animation. “No physics jobs are available unless I want to move out by my mom and teach high school science on the Diné reservation. When I was little, it wasn’t so bad. Now, after living in this world for so long and never really being part of the tribe, I’d be politely treated as an outsider the rest of my life.”

  She huffed, annoyed. “We’ll find you something, and once we get the job thing fixed, we’ll get you a woman who will work out better.” A thought struck her, and she bounced to her feet. “Pues, we should hook you up with an athlete. Maybe a chick who owns her own dojo! That’d rock. That way, we could all work out and tag team spar if I find a dude who likes sparring and sticks around for more than one or two dates.”

  “The likelihood of you finding a guy who lasts that long is… wait, is this about you or me?” Andy said, blinking.

  Zita grinned. “What? Is it wrong to hope you find someone fun so we can skip the whole my-girlfriend-thinks-you’re-a-bad-influence thing? I hate that speech even more than the it’s-not-you-it’s-me one, though at least with that one, it usually is me.”

  “Voice of experience, then,” he said, a corner of his mouth quirking upward. “Don’t worry, Z, you’re family, and any girlfriend would have to deal with you. Every family has a black sheep, so she’d have to understand.”

  She wrinkled her nose, scooped up her dust rag, and headed for the treadmill. “Whatever, hater. Listen…”

  His smile faded, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “I don’t think another girl’s in the cards anyway, so it’s all a moot point.”

  Zita rolled her eyes while dusting the treadmill. “Wallowing, much? Is this about your strength and sex? If it is, we need serious snacks, maybe more brownies or brigadeiros, before we talk about that again.”

  “You don’t understand,” Andy said. He frowned at the rug. “I have no job. I have no people—”

  She poked him in the stomach gently to avoid hurting herself. “You’ve got us. I’m totally a person, except when I’m not, and Wyn’s always herself, unless she’s an illusion.”

  Andy didn’t even smile. “No tribe, then, as I know little about my birth one and don’t have any Diné blood. I probably can never have a romantic relationship again, and pretty much I’m coasting, living off my dad and the spare five hundred bucks I get every month for maintaining a fan site devoted to a far more brilliant physicist than I’ll ever be. So, I figured if I’m a failure as a regular human, I could at least do some good as…” His ears tinged with red, and he mumbled something, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  That’s not bad money. I wonder if maintaining a fan site is hard? Bringing herself to a stop by him, she said, “Mano, it’s not that I’m not listening, but I missed that last bit.”

  He sighed. “I figured if I couldn’t live a normal life, I could try to be a superhero. That’s the deal. You get superpowers. Your normal life goes to crap, and you spend all your time fighting crime and helping others. In all the comic books, the hero patrols the city and ends up somewhere high and broods while he watches over the city. Not only did I not stop anything, I didn’t even manage to get on top of anything. All I did was break a building façade. Once or twice, I thought I saw Pretorius and Janus by this office building, but when I went over, nobody was there. I staked it out for a couple nights and saw nothing.”

  Zita waved her cleaning rag in his direction. “See? I told you climbing is a useful skill. If you took lessons from me, you’d know how to do it without damaging surfaces as much. We should go practice that. And sitting in a high place and brooding doesn’t sound useful. You at least need something to do up there.”

  “That’s your take away from this? I just revealed that I’m a failed vigilante. Zeus’ gang robbed electronics warehouses on one of my patrol nights, but I didn’t notice, even when it was in the same area as me. I can’t even do that right.”

  She pursed her lips. “Why exactly did it make sense to roam around in a mask looking for… I don’t even know what you wanted to find. Just because your life has been crappy is no reason to go searching for trouble. You’re a physicist who happens to have superpowers, not a cop or military person trained to handle combat and criminals.”

  “Of course not,” he said, “you’re not genre-savvy. It makes total sense if you’ve read as many comic books and played as many video games as I have. Not that it matters, because even though you have no clue what you should be doing with your powers and waste them playing, you still end up being all heroic.”

  Zita froze, then whirled to face him. “Waste them? Why would you think that? Por supuesto, something goes down in my neighborhood, I’ll pitch in and help. Contrary to Miguel’s opinion, though, I don’t wander around searching for trouble, and I only interfere if the cops or somebody else don’t got it under control. I just live my life, have some good times, and try not to piss off God too much.”

  Folding his arms over his chest, he continued staring at the ancient avocado shag rug. “Stuff happens to you, like the Squirrel King bomb incident, the guys at the zoo, the taqueria, and whatever the food truck thing was. You got to fight Sobek, Pretorius, Garm… Z, you’ve almost got a full-fledged rogues’ gallery going on. Either you’re super lucky or super unlucky or wearing supervillain-attracting perfume—”

  She seized on the part of that she understood best. “I don’t wear perfume.”

  He exhaled loudly “Not a surprise or my point. Stuff happens to you. It doesn’t happen to me like that.”

  Zita sat down on the sofa next to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Andy, mano, I have no idea why all the crazies are popping up. If what you really want is to run across that more…” She shook her head and withdrew her hand. “Pues, you got problems. Have you not noticed that the bad guys keep trying to kill me? Not fun. Second, this isn’t a comic book or video game. Real life don’t work like fiction.”

  “Are you certain about that?”

  She continued on. “Third, you won’t run into anything if you’re busy hiding in your dad’s basement. You need to get your culo out there and do something. Stuff never happens when you’re ready for it. It just happens. Trust me on that one. Wyn’s run into a few situations on her own as well, but she’s better at defusing them without violence.”

  His shoulders slumped, and Andy said, “Wyn too?”

  “Well, sure. The last one was when she was on a date with Rani, the electrician you rescued. They saw Janus and some strange men loitering. Wyn used illusions of you and I and cops to scare them off. Probably impressed Rani, too.” She beamed at him. “In the meantime, I’ll give you some tips on spidering up a building.”

  He replied with a short shake of his head and rubbed his arms. “The one time I got on a roof, I just wanted to fly.”

  Zita hopped to her feet, unable to stay still. “Can’t blame you. Flying rocks. I could hook you up with a No-Fly Zone map so you can avoid trouble if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Andy rose and paced. “I’m not trustworthy as the bird. It’s all fuzzy, and I’m not in control.”

  “Oye, you worry too much. Go for a flight. Your control won’t improve if you never use your bird shape, which, by the way, is feathered, not fuzzy.”

  “No.” He stopped in front of the hole in the wall and touched it with one finger.

  She grinned. “If you’re holding out for someone to create a humongous birdcage and keep you in it, it’s probably not going to happen. I can just see it now… giant perch, a huge rope to gnaw on, an Olympic-sized pool to bathe your feathery butt in, and a big-ass mirror to stare at. Can you talk in your other form? Have you tried? Every shapeshifter but me seems to be able to do so.”

  “Please stop.”

/>   Snickering, Zita gestured as she spoke, her movements growing wider as she got caught up in her enthusiasm. “Too late. In my head, you’re asking yourself who is a pretty boy in front of the mirror. Can’t forget the pile of birdseed the size of a small hill.”

  Andy stared at her, eyebrows lifted. “That’s really disturbing, except for the bird seed.”

  She chortled, still amused with her mental images of Andy-the-bird. “Fine, but I’m not hunting down any elephants for your other shape to eat or anything. Go flying, seriously though. If nothing else, you need the exercise. You’ve been sitting in here, skipping our sparring sessions and likely everything else. I’d be loca by now, so it’s no wonder you’re down.”

  He snorted, got to his feet, and hefted his laundry basket. “You’d be crazy after a few hours without a workout. Stop pushing me to fly. I’m going to wash these clothes, and then we can go upstairs to eat some of the frozen food my stepmom left me. You can set up the couch and get comfortable.”

  Zita tried to resist, but the siren call of dinner was too strong. “Ooh, leftovers from your parents? Sweet. Can I stash my motorcycle in your shed? My complex doesn’t let me store it until they’re done with the lawn mowers for the season. I’ll clean off the dog blood first.”

  He shuddered. “Sure, Z.”

  Chapter Eight

  Later that week, Wyn pushed aside the curtain and spun in front of a mirror, allowing the very short skirt of her dress to flare out around her slender thighs. Golden flecks in the fabric sparkled in the shop lights. “Andy’s crankiness is our good luck today.”

  Zita awakened from her half-doze with a snort, sitting up from her sprawl in a fancy velvet chair. Plastic shopping bags escaped her lap to tumble toward the floor, but she caught them before they hit. This wasn’t the first dress Wyn had tried in the tiny little New York boutique, but she’d been happily absorbed long enough for Zita to get comfortable. The plush Oriental carpet muffled any sounds of movement, and the saleslady’s voice was a low, constant murmur as she assisted another pair of shoppers. The manager had long ago retreated to the employee area, probably to watch them through the security cameras discreetly placed throughout the store. Zita’s eyes had naturally drooped. “What?”