by Karen Diem
With a glance toward his clinic, the doctor said, “The rainforest ends nearby, and we ascend through highlands for a couple hours until the grasses disappear. At that point, if the ledges remain, we take an animal trail up the tepui to a cave. A rockfall sealed the entrance forty years ago, but if it is open, you must pass through a series of tunnels to the other side. I will not go in the caves as I would enjoy continuing to live.”
“Pues, if we’re lucky, it’ll still be closed off, and the professor and the kid’s grandpa will be milling around after the bad guys have gone home to play evil board games or something.” Zita took a fortifying bite of her sandwich.
“That’d be convenient,” Jerome said. “Dibs on the bathroom next.”
Andy stared at his feet. “I expect to go caving with our luck.” I hate caving.
Zita smiled and rocked on her feet in anticipation. “Yeah.”
***
After the small group passed through the rainforest and highlands, Zita led the way on the narrow ledges that made up a makeshift trail to the cave. By the time they were only about four thousand feet up the tepui, nowhere near altitude sickness territory, the height bothered her less than the slow rate of travel caused by the others’ need to flatten themselves to the rocks at the narrowest parts… or most of it, as it turned out. She felt they were being overly squeamish because the trail was uniformly one to two feet wide most of the way.
“Geez, Arca, are you part mountain goat? Wait up,” Jerome complained. With his broad shoulders and overall size, he’d had the hardest time fitting on the trail.
“No, she’s always like that. When she’s part goat, she eats the scenery,” Andy said from where he trudged at the rear of the group. After Zita, he seemed most comfortable, neither winded nor spooked.
Biting her lip and sweating, Wyn limped along ahead of him. “Literally.” Other than a few comments about not being a hiker and missing her library, she had been stoically silent, although her color and energy had faded as the hike progressed. Her face remained resolutely turned toward the rock wall, away from the long drop beside them.
Jerome snickered.
Dr. Mwangi frowned. “You are joking, yes?” Once they had settled into a pace everyone could keep, he had handled the exertion well enough, especially once they’d started taking brief stops to allow Wyn to catch her breath.
“Sure, make fun of the shapeshifter. Yes, they’re joking. They think they’re hilarious.” Despite her words, Zita paused and spent the time appreciating the mountain. Sheer, steep sandstone walls loomed, speckled with verdant green sections where plants spilled off the natural terraces that otherwise interrupted the forbidding surface. Drifting mists of thick white and cranky gray clouds hid everything above a certain point, teasing her, and never delivering on a solid view of the top it crowned. Her fingers itched to touch it, to dig in, and to climb, to feel the sweet release of exertion and effort winning over the unforgiving terrain. When the others drew close enough, she continued walking, excitement surging through her.
Just ahead, the ledge they traveled widened enough for all of them to stand if they remained within a few feet of each other. She suspected their destination was the six-foot-tall hole that yawned between two great walls of sandstone. Jagged stone rubble covered nearly half of the surrounding ground. Lines of green lichen streaked from the opening as if running away, and a nasty stink, like burned garbage, clung to the area.
Clambering onto one of the less pointy rocks so the others could pass her, Zita balanced there and waited for Wyn, so she could help the other woman get past without injuring herself.
Jerome and Mwangi trudged ahead.
Zita hopped down. Once she had helped Wyn over the worst of the debris, she released her friend next to the wall. “Take a minute. You earned it,” she said.
With a whimper, Wyn slid down and ripped off her hiking boots. As she mumbled the now-familiar refrain of her healing spell, her hands lit with verdant green around her fingers, then danced over her feet. She closed her eyes and sighed in relief. Discordantly, her illusion still showed she wore silvery shoes with a needle-like heel, despite the hiking boots sitting next to her. Other than a small crust of mud and crushed greenery around the soles and wet marks from the grass, the boots were pristine.
I told her to break those in before we left, Zita thought with disapproval.
It’s unbecoming to say I told you so, Wyn replied primly. Even her mental voice held overtones of weariness.
Zita rolled her eyes. I didn’t mean to send that to you, but it doesn’t make me any less right. If it weren’t for your spell, your feet would be in big trouble. Now get what rest you can before we continue on. We can’t camp on this ledge, so we’ll have to keep going soon.
Wyn did not deign to reply.
Jerome stood by the entrance, examining it with the doctor beside him. He frowned, bringing his hand away from the wall and rubbing his fingers together. “The rock has scorch marks and soot on it. What were they doing? Mind the edges, some of them are sharp.”
Andy inched past the others to the far end of the ledge and gazed out. Both hands hid in his pockets, and his back was tight and stiff, though the top half of his body swayed toward the edge.
“I see,” said Mwangi, bringing a finger to his mouth. He pulled it out and dug out a package of wipes from his pocket, flushing beneath his dark skin when he saw Zita watching. “Perhaps just an artifact of the explosives those doomed fools used to blast it open? I had not expected it to be so sooty.”
“What if they weakened it with a bolt of lightning or plasma, then packed the hole with explosives?” Zita asked. She joined Andy and admired the long drop, the grassy highlands interrupted by slashes of rock and straggly shrubs, and the distant lush rainforest.
Jerome rubbed his chest. “Both of those do nasty damage.”
As if realizing they were talking, Andy turned and blinked at them, then studied his feet. “That would work.”
“Right, so they went this way. Doc, you got any tips on how to get through to the other side?” Zita stretched, enthusiasm building at the thought of exploring the caves.
He sighed, brow furrowing. “Don’t stray from the main tunnel into the side rooms. If you keep going up, eventually you’ll find the murals. Follow those, and you can’t miss it.” Rubbing his chin, Mwangi added, “Or so I’ve been told.”
“Be nice if we knew what we’re up against,” Andy muttered.
“That I can help with,” Zita said. Taking off her shirt, socks, and dollar-store purple shoes, she shifted to a bloodhound and picked her way to the opening, sniffing it. As she sorted through the barrage of olfactory information, she began to differentiate individual scents. Beneath the heavy sting and lingering burned smell from the damage to the rocks, she sorted out impressions, ignoring the quieter odors of sun-warmed stone, lichen, and wind. She changed back to Arca and dressed again. “They reopened the cave at least partially using some kind of bomb. Tiffany and Pretorius are here. I’ve got bad news, too.”
“Worse than Tiffany and Pretorius playing with TNT?” Andy asked.
Sotto voice, Jerome asked Wyn, “Do I want to know why she knows what explosives smell like?”
“They hired Freelance and the bear from the museum—their scents I recognize.” The bear’s scent always makes me hungry for burgers. More than usual, anyway. Zita tried not to think about the sniper’s masculine odor. “Two other women are with them, one of which is probably the blond who hangs with the mercenaries. The other is likely the missing professor. I also picked up what I’m guessing is the kid’s grandpa.”
“Everyone’s alive then,” Jerome said. “Why is that bad news?”
Zita exhaled. “The mercenaries are competent, versus the thugs they usually run around with.”
Andy grimaced. “So much for beating them here,” he said. “Are you certain you’re not just smelling what you want to find here?”
With a roll of her eyes, Wyn confided in Jerome
. “Arca has this thing where she thinks an imaginary mercenary, Freelance, is stalking us.”
Stung, Zita said, “Not true. I never said that. He follows us around sometimes, though, and he’s shown up at the biggest fights we’ve been in, other than the highway prison break. If he was there, I didn’t sense him.”
“I stand corrected,” Wyn said, giving Jerome a look.
Raising both eyebrows, Jerome paused. “Okay. I’m staying out of that debate. What are we up against since I don’t know these people?”
After a deep breath, Andy said, “Let me bring Chevalier up to speed. Tiffany’s a summoner and throws potions. Pretorius is the DPS blaster who hit you in the chest at the highway. He also has slow flight and extra strength and toughness.”
Jerome pursed his lips. “Yeah, I’d like another chance at him.”
As if he had not been interrupted, Andy continued. “The bear is a shapeshifter, basic brick, don’t know about regeneration. Freelance and the blond woman both shoot guns, but she also throws weird things really well, according to Arca. We’ve seen the bear and the woman before.”
Zita rolled her eyes. “You guys are just yanking my chain about the sniper, and he disarmed at least one bomb I know of, so he could be who was playing with explosives over there.” She waved her hand at the opening.
Jerome cracked his knuckles. “Right. So, Pretorius and Tiffany are the big threats, followed by the bear, then the other two.”
His mouth hanging open, Doctor Mwangi stared at the group. “That’s who you’re up against? I didn’t think the latest round of people who gained powers had anyone amazing, other than that pretty American, Carol. No, Caroline.”
Zita almost growled at Caroline’s name. Has everyone heard of that attention-seeking glory hound? “Pretorius has the strongest powers in that bunch. Our Muse here has the best witch championship title sewed up, but I’d say Freelance is the biggest threat. Most of us are vulnerable to head shots at a distance or being blown up.”
“What a lovely thought. So much for avoiding any conflict.” A line furrowed Wyn’s brow, and her shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry my concerns prevented us from taking this journey sooner. We could’ve avoided all this.”
Cocking her head to the side, Zita blinked at the other woman. “Are you kidding? What you had to do was necessary, and we had no way of knowing they would act so fast. Don’t beat yourself up over it. And if I’m saying that, it must be true. I’m Catholic. Feeling guilty over all sorts of stuff is one of our things.”
Andy never moved his gaze from the horizon. “She’s right. It’s a religious obligation to be guilty. My priest tells us so most Sundays.”
Zita concentrated on sending a thought over the party line without speaking. Your aunt needed you. That’s important, so lose the guilt. Out loud, she said, “Besides, even if we had gotten here first, they still would’ve kidnapped the grandfather and the professor, and we wouldn’t be in a position to rescue them.”
Andy nodded.
Wyn smiled a little. Thank you. I could hug you both.
Twitching her shoulders, Zita rubbed her hands together. “Right, then. Let’s go check out the caves!”
His tone hesitant, Dr. Mwangi swayed from foot to foot. “I’ll go no farther. There’s nothing I need to see in there. Are you certain I can’t dissuade you? At least promise you’ll turn back if it’s too dangerous?”
Wyn smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, doctor. We all have obligations that will keep us from making stupid, life-threatening decisions, right, Arca?” Her attention switched to Zita.
Distracted from calculating how she would climb up to the next cliff ledge, Zita agreed amiably. “Sure, whatever she said.” After a second, she eyed Wyn suspiciously. “Momentito, why am I the only one you asked that?”
“Maybe she’s just keeping it real,” Andy offered.
Zita harrumphed at him. “Hater. Is this the only way in, doc?”
He gave a slow nod. “To the best of my knowledge, it is, but there are many branches and caverns off the main tunnel, and I don’t know where those go. If you stay to the passage with the cave paintings, I’m told you will find yourself at the heart of the tepui, where the goddess dwelled with her monsters. I’ll camp in the highlands over the next few days, but I have to ensure my young patient is well and spend part of every day in my clinic in case someone needs me.”
“Cave paintings detailing the tale of this mother goddess and her monsters?” Wyn perked up, a familiar gleam in her eye and almost rubbing her hands together. “I can’t wait.”
You’re such a nerd, Wyn. With a tight smile at the doctor, Zita said, “Pues, good thing we’re stupid enough to go in anyway. You take care of that kid, doc. Let’s get going, guys.” She clambered over the rocks and headed inside.
Chapter Fourteen
Zita led the disappointingly easy way through the mountain, calling out whenever the floor got too uneven, or she ran across evidence of Tiffany’s group. While the path held few surprises, the red dirt and stone cave floors seeming almost as groomed and tidy as caves open for walking tours. Besides footprints, she found a tiny chalk arrow at every intersection, verifying the others had preceded them. Periodically, the sandpaper-rough walls teased bits and pieces of ancient, embedded bone—the curve of a wing here, an arched spine the length of a room, and the jaw with serrated teeth still clinging to it there. Behind her, a sober-faced Andy walked beside Wyn, helping her over the occasional hole. Jerome brought up the rear. Swirling diamonds in sparkly pastel colors drifted above their heads and illuminated the tunnel. They all carried flashlights anyway, in case Wyn had to cast a spell.
Jerome and Andy had both laughed when balls of light appeared over each person like bobbing lanterns, claiming it made them feel as if they were playing a video game. At first, Wyn had seemed offended, but then she reshaped the lights to diamonds and mumbled something nonsensical, and all three had gone off in peals of laughter while Zita blinked at them. When they were done with their hilarity, they returned to the trek.
“I’ve always wanted to be a player character, but I’ve always felt like such an NPC.” Andy sighed.
“What?” Zita said.
Jerome clapped her on the shoulder. “He lives a sad life. Let’s keep going.”
After an hour, she spotted a flash of color ahead. Switching on the cool, heavy flashlight she held in her hand, she aimed it at the wall. “Órale, we got old graffiti here,” she called out, panning her flashlight along a mural. Squiggly lines interspersed with pictures in a gruesome image.
A pain started at the base of her skull as if someone had hit her, and she spun to defend herself, holding her flashlight like a sap.
Wyn and Andy stared at her, having come up behind her while she was studying the art.
“You okay?” Andy asked.
Zita squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “Fine.” Her head throbbed, and she wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead.
“If you say so,” Wyn said, her tone dubious. She opened her mouth, perhaps to say more, but then stepped to the side, staring at the mural behind Zita. She squealed and hustled forward, stopping in front of the wall.
Rubbing her head through the thick knot of her hair, Zita turned to watch her friend. Andy stopped by her side.
Wyn gestured to the others, excitement sharpening the movements. “Come see this! Pictographs, so well preserved, and they get more numerous as they go on! If the professor’s traveling with them, I’d be surprised if they got her past this willingly. Does anyone have a camera?”
Jerome grunted. “My tablet takes photos. Light’s bad though.” He stepped up to stand beside Wyn and grimaced. Setting his pack down, he plunged his arm inside and came out with the electronic device.
His tone uneasy, Andy murmured, “Whatever it says, it must be pretty brutal. Those monster shapes are eating humans and dropping people bits everywhere. Ugh. That one even looks like a giant bird.” He swallowed and turned away.
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The bright flash from Jerome’s toy intensified the pain in her head, spreading to encompass the area around her ears. Stubbornly, Zita pushed the discomfort aside and continued on, shining her light on the path ahead and refusing to look back. “The next section opens out into a cave and has a lot more pictures,” she said with no great enthusiasm as she entered. Stalactites and stalagmites, some broken, littered an otherwise empty cavern the size of the exercise room in her apartment. The floor was reddish dirt, and the wall between the only two openings had more pictographs on it.
Wyn squeaked happily.
Jerome laughed. “You sound like me at a technology conference. Don’t worry, you go on to the next and have your nerdgasm, and I’ll finish this one and then get the next.”
“Thanks.” Wyn rushed forward with more enthusiasm than she’d shown so far during the trip. The light above her brightened the mural closest to Zita.
Agony exploded in Zita’s head, wrapping completely around as if she wore a circlet of fire. Gasping, she dropped to her knees, shielding her eyes with both hands.
“Z—Arca!” Andy called out, and she felt warm arms surrounding her. “Another headache?”
Squeezing her eyes shut, she waited out the latest paroxysm. “Stupid headache. Thanks for the assist, mano.” When the pain receded, she pushed away from him. “I’m good. Must need to eat.”
“Another?” Concern warred with irritation in Wyn’s tone. Are you keeping secrets, Zita?
Don’t say anything, Zita sent. I’m fine now.
Andy smoothed his hands on his pants and refused to meet either woman’s eyes. “She had an episode like this at the medical clinic when you were in the bathroom. Once she recovered, she talked to that kid.”
“In Portuguese,” Zita said, unable to restrain herself.
“You keep telling yourself that,” he said.
Even as she dug in her bag for food, Wyn frowned at Zita. “I don’t like those headaches.” With a glance toward Jerome’s tablet flashing in the corridor, she sent a question as she handed over a container. Could you be developing telepathy?