Power: Arca Book 3

by Karen Diem

  Curiosity got the better of her, and she pressed Play instead of Delete.

  ***

  When she returned to the others, she handed the paper to Jerome with her brother’s work number on it. “That’s the DMS guy. I got an interesting call from someone else, though. Muse, do you remember when I got into that fight in New York?”

  Wyn nodded. “Yes, you said a feline woman attacked a security guard without apparent provocation.”

  “Something happened in New York last week, and you never said anything? How do you keep running into these things?” Andy said, scowling. “More importantly, does the story have a point?”

  Zita wrinkled her nose at him and flipped him off with no real animosity. “Chill, I’m getting there. The call was from that New York detective, Hound. The cat woman was just the lookout for the real thief, who stole secret computer files from General Aetherics. His partner thinks the theft was committed by a super who can turn invisible, and they called me to see if I had noticed anything in particular about the invisible person because everyone got away.”

  Jerome blinked. “Hound? That man gets around.”

  “An invisible super? That’s not good. If they start joining in fights, it’s going to be really hard to protect you guys.” Andy scowled at his feet again, glanced at Wyn, then at Zita.

  Wyn shot a worried glance at Andy, before turning to Zita. “Did you notice anything useful?”

  Zita nudged him with her shoulder. “I don’t need that much protecting, but yes, it’ll cause problems,” she said, carefully not looking at Wyn. “All I could tell him was that the invisible person is probably a dude in rubber-soled shoes, who wears an expensive men’s cologne. Hound didn’t know Pretorius was there, but I mentioned it in case that helps him. The real question is why steal computer files to find a gem in the wilds of Brazil? What are they going to do, wire the old temple for cable?”

  Jerome shrugged. “Beats me. Do you want me to find out more about what was stolen? General Aetherics is known for making SNARC balls, but it would’ve been all over the news if a billion-dollar clean energy source was stolen. They make a pretty wide swath of cutting-edge technology, so it could be anything.”

  Andy’s head shot up, and he didn’t speak, but panic covered his face. General Aetherics is going to produce and sell Brandi’s fabric. Do you think the thief stole the formula? It could ruin her reputation if someone else patents it first!

  Setting a hand on his shoulder, Wyn gave it a squeeze. General Aetherics is notorious for their speed and efficacy when it comes to patent applications. She’ll be okay. “If you have a chance, that would be appreciated, Jerome. It might help us understand their end goals and make countering them easier.”

  “Consider it done, though it may have to wait until after Brazil. General Aetherics is known for their tight security.” He smiled. “If we’re not leaving now, I’m going to go home, check out this DMS agent, and pwn a few noobs.”

  “Do I want to know what that means?” said Zita.

  ***

  When they arrived at the tiny, closed air park the next afternoon, Andy took one look at the runways pitted and broken by the persistent and inevitable stab of weeds reclaiming the asphalt surface and turned to squint at Zita and Wyn. “We’re not taking a plane that Jerome paid for with all his sweet Internet money, are we?” His backpack sagged to the ground, slipping over smooth fabric of the plum-colored sportswear he wore.

  Wyn batted her lashes at him and gave him a winsome smile. Her illusion was already in place, and she had assured Zita that it would remain up, even when she slept until she chose to remove it. “No, we’re counting on you to fly.”

  He turned away. “I’ve given that up.”

  “But you love flying,” Zita said, tugging down the hem of the top of her own sportswear, identical to Andy’s. “It’s wicked awesome, so much work to do, and the freedom.” She smiled at the memory of her last flight and flexed her shoulders.

  Andy shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. “For you, but you’re in control of yourself. I don’t know what bird-me is going to do, and he is too big to risk him getting loose. Me getting loose. Whatever.”

  “He’s still you, so it’d only be you running wild, which means there’s nothing to fear. You’re a good person, kind of boring sometimes, but a good guy. You wouldn’t hurt anyone innocent. We either need to name your other form or use Wingspan for it, if only so you don’t have to call yourself Bird-you. It sounds funny. Hey, I bet Birdseed Pervert is still open!”

  “Shut up Zita,” he said, but his tone held no real rancor. “All the good names are taken anyway, and it won’t matter since I’m not using that form.”

  Zita tried to imagine giving up her powers. Even though she’d only had them a few months, they were as much a part of her as any of her limbs at this point. “No mames, mano. If God gives you a gift, you don’t throw His work away.”

  “What she said, with fewer overtones of patriarchal and theological oppression,” Wyn murmured.

  “Pagan,” Zita teased, smiling.

  “Quite.” Wyn grinned.

  Zita elbowed the other woman gently. “Don’t mind her. She’s jonesing to meet my priest, deep down.”

  Her tone dry, Wyn said, “I’d make the facetious suggestion that Zita is jealous of my ability to sing and dance naked in the moonlight, but you’ve met her. She’s probably already done so.”

  Zita donned an innocent expression that quickly morphed into mischief. “A few times, actually. I usually refrain from singing unless I want to scare away predators. Pues, predators and friends.”

  Andy winced and paced to the edge of the closest runway. “Can we please not be nude in spirit or otherwise?” His head lifted toward the clouds.

  Wyn touched Zita’s shoulder. When Zita turned to her, she put a finger on her lips. Hush. Let him process, she sent.

  Exhaling a huff of air and unsaid words, Zita took the hint and stayed silent.

  With a sidelong glance around, Andy squared his shoulders, set his feet, and narrowed his eyes at her as he faced the women. “So, why did you decide to let Jerome in on your teleportation?”

  Zita blinked. “I didn’t. It’s too big of a risk to me and my family, especially given Janus’ example. Why would you think that?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “That’s the only other option to reach Brazil unless you’ve got cash to burn that I don’t know about.”

  Holding up a hand to stop him before he could continue, Zita said. “No.”

  “What?” His chin jutting out stubbornly, Andy glared at her.

  With a deep breath, Zita reminded herself to be gentle and tried to curb the torrent of words that escaped her in answer. “Just no. You think I don’t know you’re trying to pick a fight? You have to fly us to Brazil and you know that’s what I meant. It’s not what you want to do. I get that, but it’s our best option to get there fast and keep Tiffany from getting the Heart of Whatsis.”

  “Canaiwari,” Wyn murmured.

  Zita shot the other woman an exasperated look, then set her hand on Andy’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, the two of us will stop you from eating anyone. Wyn can use her mind tricks or a spell or some juju, and I’ll do my best to keep people out of your grasp if you start drooling. Neta, mano, I couldn’t teleport there if I wanted, which I don’t. You know I can only go to places I know really well or someplace I can see. A set of coordinates means nothing, and if there’s a webcam, we couldn’t find one closer than a twelve-hour drive away.”

  Andy paced a few more steps, his head movements short and sharp like the bird he could be. He folded his arms over his chest and scanned the area. “You’ve got your aunt in Brazil. Don’t you have a teleport spot there?”

  “Two. One is in her house, which won’t work for obvious reasons, and the other is a beach near there that I really like.”

  “Let me guess… free food there?” Andy gave a sour smile.

  Zita smiled
at the memories and shook her head. “No, it’s just a beach. Paolo and I had sex everywhere there as teens. Frequently.”

  Andy grimaced. “Way TMI.”

  “Keeping it real.” Zita scrubbed a hand over the long hair of her Arca guise. “In any case, neither is near where we need to go in Brazil, and I thought we were in a rush to save this professor lady. Jerome seems solid and all, but we don’t really know him any more. I mean, Aideen used to be much more bearable, and now she’s burning people to death when she gets pissy.”

  After a moment, Andy gave a curt nod.

  Zita cleared her throat. When she continued, her voice was gruff. “Besides, I went to Brazil earlier today while you guys were packing. I checked flights out of the local airport. Nobody goes up that way without a lot of cash we don’t have, and we don’t want to sponge money off Jerome more than we have to.”

  Wyn tilted her head, a chestnut curl sliding off her shoulder. Her mental voice slid like a whisper into Zita’s head even as she laid a hand on her shoulder. Is that all you did?

  Zita felt her ears flush warm and blessed the mestizo complexion that kept her blushes less obvious. She tried to deflect, knowing what her friend was suggesting. I peeked in on my aunt, my buddy Paolo, and his wife. She’s pregnant again! I think it’s kid five or six, but she seems happy.

  New leaf. Wyn reminded her. Did you go to your friend’s grave and say goodbye? The one who died and the reason you’re so overprotective of me?

  Zita scowled. No, I didn’t go to my friend’s grave. Her family blames me, and my presence would be unwelcome.

  Her mental voice gentle, Wyn sent, You have the power now to visit without them knowing, and it might help you resolve a few things if you went. Aren’t you Catholics big on cemetery visits?

  Wrinkling her nose, Zita shook her head at Wyn. It’s not about visiting the dead, it’s about praying for their souls. Pretty certain the whole sacrificing herself to save others let her right into Heaven.

  Snapping his fingers, Andy said, “If you’re going to have telepathic conversations without me, can I leave?”

  “We’re done,” Zita said, fighting the urge to hug him for the interruption. She gave the other woman a stern glance. I’m finished on that subject for now. You’re going to respect my privacy, sí?

  As you wish, Wyn sent, a little smile on her lips.

  “So, we okay, mano? Will you fly us, or do I have to spar you for it?” Zita perked up at the thought. A good sparring session might cheer both of us up. I’d definitely enjoy it, and it might help him.

  He closed his eyes and nodded. “No sparring, Zita. I’ll do it this once. Twice. There and back. When we get there, it’s all on foot or car. You guys will stop me from eating anyone, right?”

  “Promise, mano,” Zita said.

  “You have my word as well,” Wyn said. She cleared her throat and began digging in the cavernous magical depths of her purse.

  “Whatever. Let’s just get this done,” Andy said. “I’d like to be home when my dad and stepmom get back from the big anniversary cruise.”

  Zita shrugged. “I’m supposed to be in hiding, so I just told my family I was leaving the state for a few days. When we get back, I’m to call Miguel so he can let me know if they caught Sobek yet. Since Quentin’s gone to hang with Mamá, I don’t have to worry about leaving him undefended.”

  Andy squinted at her. “You do realize your brother is a former Marine who made it out of an overseas tour of duty alive? Despite being a bomb guy?”

  “Sí, but I don’t see your point,” Zita said. “It’s Quentin. While Sobek’s not in your weight class, he still has powers, and Quentin doesn’t.”

  Clearing his throat, Andy said, “He survived a tour in the Middle East. I’m pretty sure his ability to shoot things evens the playing field. Given that Sobek kidnapped Quentin and his date, and then held them captive and tortured them for days, your brother probably wouldn’t even mind shooting Sobek a few hundred times.”

  “He can’t take a gun everywhere, not legally,” Zita said, “And the rules against actually using a firearm to defend yourself are pretty harsh in Maryland. Not to mention, he hasn’t been himself since the kidnapping. Killing people probably isn’t the best way to solve mental health problems.”

  Wyn murmured, “The probably in that statement is worrisome, but you’re right, violence isn’t the answer. How about we focus on more practical matters? Do we have everything? Zita, did you need to put another unlabeled butter container into my purse for the trip? I think you only stuffed eight or so in there. Andy, did you want to unload some of that while I’m here?”

  Opening his eyes, he shook his head and scuffed a foot on the ground. “No thanks. We’ll seem really weird if we don’t have any backpacks, and I’m the one best suited to carrying the luggage, assuming I can keep from breaking anything.”

  “Should be good on food now, thanks,” Zita said, “though if we have the time, I could grab—”

  “Forget I asked,” Wyn said, smoothing her illusory dress.

  His voice echoing as he strode up, Jerome said, “Man, this place is dead. I see now why you said nobody would notice us here.” His massive backpack, still unbalanced, swayed on his back as he passed the locked door of the only hangar, a small one ribbed with rust. “This must’ve been a private airstrip. How did you know it was here?”

  He really needs to redistribute the weight, so it lies even and redo the knots on that cord, so his cooler doesn’t fall off, Zita thought. Tearing her attention away from how she’d fix his backpack, she shrugged. “The owner of the land has a house in that forest over there. I scouted out his property a few months ago when we needed to talk to him without the cops getting involved.”

  Jerome harrumphed. “So, breaking into backyards again?”

  “He got it in one,” Andy said with his fake head cold voice.

  Before anyone else could bring up another sore subject, Zita stepped onto the runway. “Time for Air Wingspan! Let’s go find us a big ass gem!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  One day later, Wyn and Jerome grabbed the rollbar as the ancient Jeep jolted to a stop on the muddy lot surrounded by the rainforest’s spill of a million shades of green. Jogging next to the car, Zita took a second to admire the area before studying the tiny Brazilian medical clinic they’d found nestled in a clearing. Tall trees shot upward, supported by thick buttresses of roots, the bark covered by layers of smaller plants. Mosses, lichens, and other epiphytes hid the original colors of the trunks beneath their fuzzy jade blanket. Brown leafy detritus on the ground only peeked through gaps in ferns; flowers and fungi interrupted the endless green with splashes of brilliant red, purple, and yellow. Her mouth watered as the breeze brought a whiff of the chocolate, lime, and pineapple scent of a nearby flowering cupuaçu tree. Birds laughed with monkeys in the distance.

  White and rectangular, the medical building squatted in the jungle like an exotic and aging toad. Two screened windows with planters formed wide eyes above a fiberglass double door. A capuchin monkey, brown with a ring of golden fur circling its head and neck, reclined in one of the elevated flower boxes. At their arrival, it pounded on the window frame and gave a series of barking screeches.

  “Are we there yet?” Andy called from behind the vehicle, his voice low and raspy. Presumably to dislodge dirt and possibly to straighten his bedraggled mask, he swiped a hand over his forehead. The plum color of his sportswear was covered in mud from a moment of inattention when he (and the Jeep) had landed in a ditch after too hard of a shove.

  Despite the heat, Zita was happy to be on foot. A few miles at a sustainable jog had been far better than the hours preceding it. Her own purple sportswear and mask might have been dirtier than she liked from the exercise, but she couldn’t have stayed still any longer, especially on the padding-free and cramped back bench she had shared with all the luggage and Andy.

  “Just a bit more so we don’t block the entrance,” Jerome said. His khakis a
nd sunglasses bore a thin layer of sticky dust, the tidy folds long ago having wilted. Wyn had offered him one of the sportswear sets, but he had preferred his own clothes. He hopped out of the front seat where he had been steering the Jeep, a decrepit rental that had crawled along a boring highway for a few hours before sputtering and abandoning any pretext of running when they steered it up the mountain via the dirt road.

  Zita was certain when the others had insisted on renting a car, they had pictured a Hummer or something that hadn’t been scraped out of a junkyard for the occasion.

  With a heavy sigh, Andy followed Jerome’s directions, pushing the Jeep until it sat next to an even more ancient Chevy pickup with bald tires rusting in one corner of the lot. Mud painted the truck, allowing only slivers of white to peek out beneath. When their vehicle slipped into place, a wave of vivid sapphire and emerald burst around the vehicles as a flock of macaws took flight in a soft thunder of wings.

  After the birds were gone, Wyn tapped at the equipment in her lap, tilting it this way and that. “GPS is working for the moment. We’re near the coordinates, but not quite there yet,” she said in the gentle, chiming voice of her blond disguise. Thanks to her illusion, the only visible sign of her discomfort on the trip was the perspiration that glimmered on her brow. Although Zita had enough survival instincts to avoid mentioning it, Wyn smelled just as sweaty as everyone else beneath the suffocating eucalyptus of her overpowering homemade mosquito spray.

  Before anyone could reply, a man emerged from inside. Scrubs encased a stout form with a habitual hurried stride and fine, strained features. In Portuguese, he said, “You’re early. Good thing. There’s been troubling…” At the sight of them, he stopped and stared, raking a hand over his natural, close-coiled hair. “How may I be of aid to you, travelers?”

  Jerome stretched. “Arca, can you translate?”

  Before she could answer, Wyn looked up from the GPS and unfolded her long legs from the front seat, slipping to the ground. “After mistaking us for someone else, he asked if he could be of assistance.”