by Karen Diem
It tilted its head, then bit again with a burst of crocodilian speed, but this time did not release him.
Andy’s lower half dangled from the dinosaur’s mouth, his feet kicking so hard that Zita had to duck as one sneaker flew off. Another scream emerged, angry and slightly less shrill than before, and then he fell silent.
The dinosaur stepped backward, its jaw working.
Zita froze for a second before she remembered Andy’s abilities and moved again, backing away with Wyn as she tried to figure out a way to help him. “Don’t hit it! We don’t want to get him swallowed.”
Jerome retreated to the other side of Wyn, lowering his arm.
The jaw and mouth of the creature made a horrible grinding sound as it attempted to bite down on her friend and failed. As she watched, another shred of cloth and a yellowed, curved stone dropped from it—a serrated tooth, she realized.
“Mano, force its jaws open and get out!” she shouted, before realizing he likely couldn’t hear her. She repeated herself on the party line.
A dinosaur is trying to eat me. Andy’s words carried both disbelief and equanimity.
It isn’t having much luck with that, so get yourself out of its mouth, Zita sent back.
I can’t! Not without possibly ripping off the top of its head and sending pieces flying.
Zita moved back a few more steps, keeping Wyn behind her. Mano, you can do it, just moderate your strength. It’ll be a lot more gruesome if you have to bust out of its stomach.
“What do we do?” Jerome asked.
If I do anything, it’ll be like that other dinosaur earlier. I won’t risk the rest of you. Andy’s mental tone flowed with a grim self-loathing.
Dude. Mano. That was a freak accident. I’m not mad at you. Sensing she wasn’t going to change his mind in time, Zita seized Wyn’s arm. “Can you make the dinosaur drop him? Make it think we’re nasty-tasting frogs or something?”
Her friend shook her head. “How? It doesn’t speak English, and I don’t know what a poisonous frog tastes like! Do you?”
“No.”
“Well, at least we’ve found something you don’t want to eat.” Wyn stared, fingers twisting together. I’m not certain how well that works without words. If I just send it bad feelings, it might decide to destroy us all or run off with Andy.
Zita scowled. “I don’t like chocolate covered raisins either. Hey, it should be pretty happy with Wingspan playing pacifier. Can you put it to sleep?”
“What if it falls on him?” Wyn asked.
Zita winced. “It won’t hurt him, and he can get out from under it.”
The creature rendered their conversation moot by shaking its head and spitting out Andy.
Andy’s upper half gleamed wetly as he staggered to his feet with a whimper.
After flexing its jaws, the dinosaur took a step forward, its dark eyes on Zita and her friends.
I can’t normally become anything but real animals, but if it’s real enough to slobber on Andy, it’s possible. To avoid a repeat, especially one that included someone less invulnerable in its mouth, Zita shifted to mirror the beast, praying she could copy something that big. After a second of uncertainty, she figured out how to use the tail to balance and shambled forward, cutting off its sight of her friends. Don’t ask me to run like this.
The big carnivore lumbered to a stop, then approached her, its head bobbing from side to side in an odd cadence. Now that it was no longer attempting to eat her friend, Zita could appreciate the sheer scale of the creature; her skull (the dinosaur smelled female in this new shape) alone was a few inches bigger than Zita’s natural human height.
Zita blinked, shaking off her distraction, and the dinosaur stopped in front of her.
The creature breathed on her… hot, spoiled-meat scented air.
Other than curling her three-fingered claws into fists, Zita didn’t move. Oye, at least Nibbles here has breath better than Garm’s. Not like minty fresh or nothing, but better.
Don’t name it. We’re not keeping it, Wyn sent.
Too late, Zita sent back, sidling left to keep Nibbles from eyeing her friends.
Whispers came from behind her. “I can’t tell them apart, and they’re just standing there breathing on each other.” She thought that was Andy.
Deeper tones answered him. Jerome. “Maybe she’s going to kiss it into submission?”
Zita gave a congested snort at the ridiculous comment. So not happening.
As if she had made a suggestion, Nibbles stretched out her neck and focused greedy eyes on Jerome.
He retreated, but he and Andy kept their bodies in front of Wyn.
The reptile took a step toward him.
Zita head-butted Nibbles to retain her attention. Concentrating, she engineered a small change to her form, choosing the colors she wanted. Back away, haters. I’m trying to buy you time to get to safety or attack it or put it to sleep. I’d rather keep it alive to avoid screwing the local ecosystem or putting a huge carcass in our path home. The smaller dinosaur corpses will attract enough scavengers as is.
Andy sounded half-strangled. “Arca’s the one who grew neon orange stripes in the last few seconds.”
Wyn made no comment, just whispered under her breath, her words rapid and wispy.
To Zita’s relief, a pink fog twined up around Nibbles’ legs, climbing past the stunted-seeming arms and embracing the head. Snorting and snuffling, the dinosaur twitched, then turned and staggered a few feet, lowering herself to the ground. She finally closed her eyes, oversized lower jaw resting against her chest in an odd partial sit.
Zita backed up, her steps mincing to avoid stepping on the others.
Giving Nibbles a wide berth, her friends crept around the sleeping beast.
Did it snore? Andy sent.
Zita changed to Arca, falling behind the rest of the group. No, I think that was me trying not to laugh.
How about we let sleepysaurus sleep and get as far away as possible? Wyn sent.
As she passed, Zita snatched up the broken tooth and tucked it into a pocket, after touching the edge. “You’re still pretty cool, Nibbles,” she whispered to the slumbering dinosaur as she turned and bounded after her friends.
The four humans jogged for about ten minutes before slowing to a fast walk.
“I can’t believe we fought a T-Rex,” Jerome said as he reclaimed the lead position.
She considered it, even as she slowed her pace to allow Andy and Wyn to keep up. Wyn still seemed breathless from the jog, and Andy was sticking close. “No, they didn’t live this far south. I can’t tell for certain, but I think the nose was too long, and the tail was too skinny, but Nibbles was definitely a theropod. Could’ve been a Mapusaurus or Giganotosaurus, though.”
Jerome twisted to look at her, “Are you telling me that wasn’t a T-Rex because T-Rex got more back and a nose job? Maybe this one’s been on a diet.”
“Probably?” she said. “It’s not as if I had time to check a reference book or do measurements.”
“Spoilsport.” He made a flippant noise and sped up to take the point position.
They had been walking for twenty minutes when Andy cleared his throat. His voice low and worried, his face held concern. “Z—Arca, you said the shapeshifting teacher turned her tribe into monsters. Were the dinosaurs her people? Did we just slaughter five people and leave the sixth one sleeping?”
Wyn paled even as she got the distant expression that meant she was checking her prodigious memory. “I didn’t think to examine Nibbles’ mind like that, but yes, that’s what she said.”
Zita’s stomach turned over, and she fought to keep from losing her breakfast. “Dios. They just attacked, so I assumed they were animals, but… Is there a way to verify one way or the other?”
As she bit her lip, Wyn said, “I’ll scan the next dinosaur we see and let you know if they’ve got animal thought patterns or not. Returning to the sleeping creature would be foolish. My spell was meant for humans, so I don’t know how
long it will last on the dinosaur.”
“Do we tell Jerome?” Andy’s body was tight and his voice unhappy.
Zita nodded. “It’d be wrong not to.”
“Agreed. I’ll talk to him.” Wyn raised her voice. “Chevalier? Can I have a minute?”
Chapter Sixteen
Later that day, Zita shoved away a dangling vine. The coniferous forest opened into a sunny clearing, a perfect circle of light breaking the perpetual shadow they’d been straggling through. “We made it to the temple! I told you going up the cliff instead of following the trail all the way around would make it faster,” she called over her shoulder as she studied the ancient building. She felt more than saw Wyn, Andy, and Jerome as they caught up with her.
“Thank the Goddess, a rest from the hiking!” Wyn panted and leaned against a nearby tree trunk. Even though Andy had carried her up the cliff in a prodigious leap, the walk had winded her.
Similar to the old mission buildings that littered the Brazilian countryside, the temple was no more than thirty-five feet wide and one hundred feet long. The spare, sturdy structure had smooth, flat white walls softened by the embrace of a profusion of vines and flowers along the sides. In addition to the greenery, other colors peeked out from it: a vibrant spill of turquoise and yellow tiles around the remains of the arched doorway, the bright blue windowsills and shutters, and a red-tiled roof. Two-thirds of the building resembled a townhouse with a curving roof and pretty little shuttered windows. As if the architect had remembered that this was supposed to be a holy place at the last moment, it had a solitary tower slapped on it, rectangular save for the Arabic flare of the onion dome at the top. A bell, sans rope, dangled from the belfry. The door was missing, with only a few remnants of striped hardwood dangling from the frame, but the scorch marks and obvious violence of the entry were new enough to have a lingering burnt wood odor. An uneven gray lump filled most of the opening. Spicy with the aroma of the unknown white flowers that dotted it, grass covered the grounds around the temple as if a flowering golf course had been transplanted into the middle of the Cretaceous jungle.
“Anywhere else, this would be cute. Here, it’s creepy. Either someone just built this—which would be totally weird given the man-eating dinosaurs and the whole sealed for forty years thing—or this is one of those magicky things? That grass is not native even if the rest of the plants match some we passed on the way in,” Zita mused aloud.
Wyn stared at the temple, then directed her gaze farther upward. Her brow furrowed. “This building is the center of the magical construct. Or was. The lines of the spell have gotten tangled and are curling in on themselves. The others must’ve gotten here first and stolen the Heart.”
Andy groaned. “So, we would’ve run into them if we didn’t take the shortcut?”
Zita grimaced and hurried toward the temple, the others trailing behind her. “Is there any chance you’re wrong? Maybe we should check inside, just in case.”
“Did you notice the freaky statue? I’m afraid to blink around it.” Jerome pointed to the shape filling the doorway. A disturbing stone man blocked the entry, surrounded by the wooden shards of the door. Horror screamed from his face and posture, and a gun drooped from his hand as if he were in the process of dropping it. Detail on the carving was amazing, not only showing a knife strapped to his side, but also revealing tiny granite chest hairs curling at the unbuttoned top of his shirt.
Andy gave a half-smile. “Where’s the Doctor when you need him? Or even a Companion?”
“Doctor Mwangi stayed back in the highlands,” Zita said.
Jerome rolled his eyes and exchanged glances with Andy. “Man, she is bad,” he commented. “Does she miss every reference?”
Andy nodded. “Most of them. We tolerate her anyway even if we’re not sure why. It’s not for her charm.” Tilting his head like a bird, he cleared his throat. “Guys? Look over there.” He pursed his lips and nodded at one side of the temple.
When they checked, the ground held headstones—twenty-three of them—and the small white flowers blanketed most of the graves as if planted there. Two other statues, also of men with guns, stood guard over the dead. Zita crossed herself, muttering a quick prayer.
Beside her, Jerome made an unhappy sound and took off his hat, worrying the brim with his thick fingers.
“Are the statues going to come after us?” Andy asked. He kept several feet away from the graveyard.
Wyn gave the stone men a glance. “No, they’re no more magical than the dirt or grass. Let me take a break and study the spell holding this place together, and we can resume the mad chase after the others in a few minutes.” She limped over and sat on a lumpy granite rock near one grave. After she murmured the words of her spell, light streamed from her hand as she healed her feet again.
Still twisting his hat, the last bit of his original costume other than his sunglasses, Jerome kept guard over her.
Zita touched Andy’s bicep. “Sorry, mano, but if we’re going to keep Brazil safe and avoid getting trapped or killed here, you have to give us a ride back. It’s the only way we’ll beat them to the cave entrance.”
His face unhappy, Andy glanced up, then at the ground. “This clearing isn’t big enough for the bird without stepping on the dead.”
Zita glanced at the graves. “Pues, then we’ll go to the base of the cliff where you’ll take your big form on the plains and fly us back from there. Easy enough for you to carry Wyn down with you.”
He nodded. “We make it as fast as possible.”
“Let me scout the temple while Muse is figuring out the spell.” Zita did a quick lap around the building. “I see trash, but no signs of them now and no more graves,” she shouted.
“Hello? Is someone out there? Please, you have to help me!” A female voice called out from inside. “In the temple! I was kidnapped and trapped here!”
Jerome strode closer to the building and stopped. “Why do I want to quote Admiral Ackbar right now?”
“Because you’re smart and understand how our luck works?” Andy said.
Hurrying nearer, Zita could see muddy red slide marks where the one stone man had been shoved into place. Flashes of varying shades of brown moved on the other side, a woman’s face appearing at one point.
Zita stepped aside. “Wingspan, would you move the statue for the lady?” In a lower voice, she said, “Just in case, nobody else stand in the direct line of fire.”
“Paranoid, much?” Wyn said, though she rose and retreated to stand near Zita. The professor is the only person in there.
Andy shuffled forward, and after staring at the statue for a moment, lifted it and set it next to the doorway. Nothing happened, and he returned to stand beside Zita.
You did your mind thing? Zita queried.
Wyn sighed mentally. Yes, I did.
Before anyone could speak, the missing professor scurried out of the building like a quail rushing away from danger. Once out, she slowed, taking off her hat to mop her brow and letting a backpack droop toward the ground. Sensible khaki clothing held numerous smears and a few grass stains, but still covered most of her skin.
She’s carrying extra weight, but her legs are pretty toned, and that pack can’t be light. No obvious movement styles, so probably goes to a health club regularly instead of focusing on a martial art or sport, Zita absently assessed.
While strain etched lines in the fine teak planes of the professor’s long face, short, tapered hair curled tight in abandon above. Glasses reflected sunlight every time she tilted her head to examine another person. Jerome seemed to require the most scrutiny. “Thank you. I’m Professor Santos. Who are you and what are you doing here? Wait… have I seen you on television?” Her gaze settled on Zita. “Didn’t you rescue a puppy?”
Órale, I’ve rescued a bunch of people, but she remembers the dog? Zita managed to resist rolling her eyes.
Smothering a grin, Wyn stepped forward. “I’m called Muse, and these are Arca, Wingspan, and Chevalie
r. We’ve been searching for you, Professor. Did the ones who took you get the Heart of Canaiwari?
Santos nodded. “Yes, they did.”
Even though she’d expected that answer, Zita swore.
The professor blinked. “I don’t understand… they had someone who claimed to have seen my grant application, but how did you hear about an obscure rock?”
Wyn cleared her throat. “We’ve been chasing your kidnappers and got a tip that led us to your application. When we sent someone to ask you about it, we found out you were missing and decided that following the information in your grant might be the best way to find you and stop them. The murals on the cave walls were also instructive.”
The professor’s eyebrows rose. “One of you could read those?”
Andy rasped, “Arca.”
“For the last time, they’re just pictures. You don’t have to be able to read to understand pictures. Toddlers do it all the time,” Zita mumbled.
“Denial… river in Egypt,” one of the men muttered, and the other snickered, but when she glared at them, both had similar noncommittal expressions.
Her face lighting with Zita recognized (and feared) as academic fervor, Santos leaned toward her. “No, they’re a complex series of pictographs in an ancient dialect—”
Wyn touched her arm. “Don’t bother. No power on this planet or in any alternate dimension could help her. We need to find out where your kidnappers took the Heart.”
Shooting Zita a look that promised unsolicited educational lectures later, the professor shrugged. “I believe they were returning to their homes. The mercenary woman who told me to stay in the temple told me they’d come back and take me home once they got rid of the homicidal maniacs, but then they shoved that awful statue in the doorway and left me in there to die! As if a few canned meals and canteens would make up for sealing me in there!”
Wyn’s face was a mix of sympathy and outrage. “That’s terrible.”
“I might’ve done the same thing. Professor, are you armed with a big gun or superpower?” Zita said.
“Of course not!” Santos blazed.
I don’t think she likes me, Zita thought.