Power: Arca Book 3

by Karen Diem

  Tiffany finished waving her hands, but nothing happened, and she stomped her foot. “You can’t keep that up forever!” She dug through her bag.

  A rifle sang out.

  As he reached the crest, Jerome fell, blood and brains exploding from his head. His body disappeared from her view as it collapsed.

  Time slowed and almost stopped as Zita stared at Jerome’s body. I’m too slow, just like before when… She yanked her mind away from the remembered horror. Controlling her breathing, she forced it into the cadences of a capoeira ginga and flew to another bush. Her eyes scanned the area, searching for the source of the shot. Her stomach churned and threatened to revolt.

  Jerome’s down… And… Dios, I hope he can heal from that. I’ve seen him get better from worse, but those weren’t head wounds. Zita fought to force her thoughts to coherence. Deal later, fight now. There’s the shooter.

  Leaping down from the leafy crown of one of the taller bushes, Freelance carried a rifle, a second long gun on a sling over his back. He dragged a barefoot man from behind a rock.

  Freelance’s prisoner, a lean fellow with the stringy muscles of a serious runner, glared at the mercenary. His hand dropped to the waist of his sensible shorts, his only clothing as if reaching for a weapon no longer there. Every line of his weathered face shouted his relationship to the boy at the clinic. After a moment, Zita realized he was middle-aged, not elderly as she had first thought.

  Gracias a Dios, the guide’s alive. Wyn, you miscounted. There’s six of them. Zita readied to teleport onto Freelance if necessary to stop him from hurting the kid’s grandfather.

  Pushing his prisoner toward the path up instead of harming him, Freelance took cover behind a different rock.

  Wyn’s mental voice held concern. Are you certain? I still only detect us and five others.

  Red tattoos formed new shapes on his face as the local man gave a fierce smile and darted nimbly up the narrow trail with fleet, practiced movements that mirrored his grandson’s earlier run.

  Don’t hit him, the kidnapped grandpa is making for the exit, Zita sent. As she readied herself to snatch the bag, her instincts screamed a warning. Letting her small body drop below the crown of the plant, she flew to the ground.

  A blast of light whooshed by and destroyed the fern where she’d been seconds before.

  “I hate headshots,” Jerome growled.

  Alive? Gracias a Dios! The painful knot in Zita’s stomach loosened at the big man’s complaint. Launching herself from where she’d landed, Zita wove an indirect route through the ferns, her feathers blending with plants.

  Jerome stood up, then went down again under another bullet.

  A thud and a high-pitched squeak announced Andy falling somewhere nearby.

  Trixie’s laughter cut off.

  Zita glanced that direction.

  Her pith helmet visible on the ground next to her, Trixie sat slumped at the base of a tree. A dainty snore escaped her open mouth.

  With a roar, the bear abandoned the fight against Andy—where he’d been aiding Pretorius—and limped to Trixie. He lifted her inert form and carried it farther from the combat.

  Another shot rang out, and Wyn screamed, mentally and physically.

  Wyn? Fear raced through Zita, and she flew toward her friend.

  Throwing Pretorius aside, Andy thundered through the brush behind her.

  On the ridge, Wyn curled up in a ball, cradling one of her hands.

  Zita changed to Arca and knelt beside her. “You okay?” She glanced all around. “Get the shooter or Pretorius,” she told Andy.

  He nodded but remained next to Wyn. “Will you be okay?” he asked.

  “My hand. I can’t cast.” Dread and pain clouded Wyn’s eyes, and she pushed at them with her good arm. “Don’t let Tiffany get away with the gem. The spell keeping this place together is in a precarious state already. If she leaves the zone of effect, it will dissolve. I can do a quick illusion to appear to be brush, so don’t worry about me.”

  Andy relocated to the ledge at the trailhead, crouching as if to spring on someone coming up the path. On the ground, Jerome’s body tensed, but he remained prone.

  A massive boom rang out, and something hit Andy on his forehead just as he was about to jump. He flinched and stepped onto a banana peel while off balance. As if choreographed in a kung fu comedy scene, his arms windmilled, and he fell backward off the edge of the ridge. A painful sounding splash echoed from below.

  Andy? Are you in the river? Watch out for protocrocodilians and get back as soon as possible. After giving Wyn a squeeze on the shoulder, Zita flexed her shoulders and ran to see what she could do.

  Pretorius and Tiffany appeared at the top of the path, near Zita. They stepped over Jerome’s inert form.

  Light flared, and the ground shook. Distant dinosaurs and other creatures roared or screeched or screamed. Everyone staggered, and Tiffany tumbled to her bony hands and knees.

  Andy’s reply included a few profanities Zita hadn’t known he knew. Screw that, I’m in quicksand! Let’s just say strength is not the way out.

  A big gun boomed again somewhere though Zita didn’t see the weapon or the target.

  Jerome grabbed Pretorius’ ankle. He pulled, and the big blond man fell, but not over the edge. Rolling over on top of the mercenary, Jerome began punching.

  Tiffany scurried forward, scrambling to stand.

  In Zita’s head, Andy lamented, Ah, yes, and here comes a monster crocodile. That guy keeps shooting me every time I’m about to get out. I hate my life. On my way.

  Zita dove at Tiffany, knocking her down again. Rolling to her feet, she grabbed the satchel, yanking it from the evil woman. “The gem has to go back before anybody dies.” She stepped away with the bag.

  As she lurched back up again, Tiffany screeched a profanity and batted ineffectually with her wimpy arms at Zita.

  Zita brought an arm around to strike Tiffany with an elbow—not using her full strength, as she still had no intention of killing the other woman—while her other hand dug through the contents.

  Tiffany fell back, gasping. When she recovered her breath, she switched to clawing at Zita’s face and pulling hair.

  Careful not to jar the many glass bottles while she searched the satchel by touch, Zita dodged. Her fingertips touched a rough, uneven fist-sized surface among all the glassware. An idea sparked, and her free hand scrabbled at her own pants and tore the Velcro fastener on a pocket open. Dios, don’t let anyone shoot the crap in this bag. I really don’t want magic napalm on me, she prayed silently, moving fast. Aloud, she covered her actions by taunting Tiffany. “At least slug me or kick me. Come on, you’re making all us women look bad.”

  Her words seemed to redouble the witch’s attempts to snatch back the bag.

  Wyn shrieked and bolted out of her hiding place, pointing at the sky. “The spell is breaking! We’re all going to die, or the dinosaurs will get loose and decimate the villages! Put the Heart back in place to reset it! I won’t be able to hold it long, especially resorting to brute force!” She ran to the walls and placed both hands on them, lowering her head. Chanting, soft and almost inaudible, rose from her lips, and silvery white light emanated from her fingertips.

  Another gunshot sounded.

  Runes appeared, ones that spread over the mountain and spilled into and across the sky, hiding the constant screen of clouds overhead. They faded, melting into the rock and disappearing.

  “Pterodactyl, incoming!” Jerome shouted, pointing up before continuing to pummel Pretorius. A blast of plasma caught him in the stomach, and he slid down the trail, out of sight.

  Wyn gasped and threw her head back. Light flared and went out, except in her eyes, which were luminous but unseeing.

  Following the direction Jerome’s finger had indicated, Zita spotted a pterosaur dipping toward the fight and the edge of the tepui, perhaps having glimpsed the unsuspecting world outside.

  Another gunshot rang out, and the massive
winged beast fell.

  At the whisper of movement nearby, Zita dropped the bag as she hurled herself to the side in time to avoid a charge by Pretorius. She flipped to her feet, one hand over her pocket.

  Tiffany snatched up her satchel. She rifled around inside, panic on her face. Tension leaked from her, and she visibly relaxed. “I still have it. Pretorius, come!” She ran for the cavern entrance that led back to normal Brazil.

  Pretorius turned, one hand glowing.

  With a nod to the witch, Pretorius unleashed his bolt on Zita.

  She leapt aside and rolled into the field of oversized ferns. “Oye, Pretorius, we never talk no more. Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”

  In the tunnel, Tiffany held a large clay disk, covered in symbols and a nasty brown smear. The sorceress smashed it on the ground as Pretorius threw another blast, though his aim was off enough so Zita couldn’t be certain who he had aimed at.

  A wavering portal sprang up in the passageway, glowing bright in the darkness. On the other side of it, a familiar barren room waited. A howler monkey screeched.

  With a jerk of his head, Pretorius ran to join Tiffany. Frowning, he grabbed her arm. Proximity allowed Zita to hear his growled words. “It’s not time.”

  With a smirk, Tiffany nodded and said, “They’ll all be dead or busy when the spell breaks. We don’t have to worry about keeping the nosy idiots tied up until Thursday or paying the other mercenaries. Don’t complain. It’s more money for you.” They stepped through the opening together, and it closed up behind them.

  All sounds of combat ceased.

  Jerome hauled himself up the trail again. He swore and scrubbed a hand over his shaved head. “How the hell are we going to catch up with them now and get the gem back before anyone dies?”

  “Hey, Freelance, how about a truce?” Zita called out. She risked a glimpse. He either wasn’t where he had been, or he had hidden even better.

  “Why?” came the groggy-sounding answer from Vaudeville.

  Sand dripping from him, a damp Andy jumped onto the ridge. He ran to Wyn. “Are you okay? Muse? Muse?” He touched her shoulder and gave it a light shove, but she remained motionless.

  As she scanned for Freelance’s new position, Zita said, “Well, are you getting paid to kill us or guard them? Tiffany and Pretorius just portaled out, and we’ll stop fighting if you quit attacking us.” When Zita hurried to her friends, she blanched.

  Wyn’s eyes had gone completely silver, matching the light that still shined where she touched the rock and the occasional rune that glowed to life on the wall. The scent of sweat drowned out the fading eucalyptus sting of her mosquito repellent. Plants twined around her ankles, and her arms had sunken into the rock up to her elbows.

  Andy glanced up at a rune that sparkled with Wyn’s magic and down again, his shoulders twitching. He eased his body between Wyn and the ferny forest.

  “So, can we assume we got a truce for now? Your employers left, and I don’t think we have any reasons to murder each other.” Zita crossed her fingers.

  Jerome muttered though the words carried to Zita, “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not a fan of the bastard who shot me in the head.”

  Trixie, followed by the bear, ambled up the path with her arms in the air, though she had a bubblegum cigar ready in each hand. “Speak for yourself, but we’ll go with that because that’s what the boss says.”

  A soft whirr came from behind Zita. She twisted in time to see Freelance land on the ridge and retract his grappling hook and rope. “So, you got a name? Or should I keep calling you Freelance?”

  The masked man inclined his head.

  “Seriously?” Zita asked.

  “Oh, can anyone make up nicknames? Can I call you Freelance, boss?” Trixie giggled. She pointed a thumb at the bear beside her. “He can be Beary Sexy, no, Bearlicious.”

  The bear hid his face in his paws.

  Before Zita could speak again, Freelance’s goggles turned to the mustached woman.

  Trixie composed her face, making a motion as if she’d zipped her lips shut, but a snort escaped and her shoulders shook.

  The bear sighed. “Every time. Adrenaline drunk.”

  With herself, Jerome, and Andy all surrounding Wyn’s immobile form, Zita pasted on a smile and gestured toward the exit. Noting Freelance’s attention seemed to focus her direction, she angled her hips away, hoping he wouldn’t notice the lump in her pocket. “Well, then, I guess you can go on home. We’ll wait here, so you feel safe and all.”

  “What’s wrong with this picture?” Trixie asked.

  Zita eyed the doctor and her costume. “Your mustache?”

  “No, no, that’s perfect,” Trixie said. “What are you hiding? You’re not even mentioning glowing coma girlfriend over there.” Her head tilted, and she touched her ear.

  She must have an earpiece, Zita thought.

  Trixie’s eyes widened. “You’ve got the gem! You know, if you give it to us, we can part ways peacefully.”

  “At the cost of how many lives when these creatures break free and ravage the countryside? Or if we all die because we don’t get out fast enough and this place collapses once Muse stops whatever she’s doing?” Zita glanced over at Wyn and shivered involuntarily.

  The bear rumbled. “The earth moved when Halja set foot up here. They might have a point.”

  Trixie visibly bit her tongue twice, then spun one of her candy cigars. Holstering it, she unwrapped the other and chewed. Artificial grape perfumed the air.

  Zita tapped her fingers on her leg and shot a worried look at Wyn. “So, you just go on your way, and Wingspan can take me to the temple. I’ll return the gem. It’s easy enough for me to get down and put it where it belongs if someone tells me where you found it.”

  “I don’t hover,” Andy said.

  “You don’t have to stay in place long,” she said. “I’ve jumped out of planes before, so this’ll be pan comido, a piece of cake.”

  Andy winced. “Please stop using that expression. Nothing good ever comes of it.”

  Trixie laughed. “Fat chance. What’s to keep you from stealing the gem?”

  “My innate honesty and awesomeness?” Since they seemed unconvinced, Zita continued, “Even if the dinosaurs didn’t pose a threat to the local villages, I wouldn’t take it and leave my friend here. She’ll die if I don’t get her to stop whatever magicky thing she’s doing. If you can extricate her from the spell without hurting her, let us know. I’m assuming putting the rock back will do it. I’m no thief, and I don’t do my friends like that. Carajo, I don’t do my enemies like that, and I earn what I have.”

  With a snort, Trixie said, “We don’t know you or anything about you other than what’s on television. Your friend dying might increase your split of the loot so you might be fine with her death. You should give it to us to return.”

  “Because mercenaries are more trustworthy with a jewel than vigilantes working for free?” It was Zita’s turn to snort.

  To her annoyance, Freelance nodded.

  Kodiak, still in bear form, studied everyone. He lumbered past them to the tunnel entrance and bounced off an invisible wall. “We’re stuck here.”

  Zita sighed, giving in to the inevitable. Wyn can’t advise me, and I’ve got no telepathy, so I can’t use party line to talk privately with Andy. “Right, let’s pretend to have our act together and try cooperating. Chevalier, Bear-dude, and crazy chick, guard Muse from the dinosaurs. Once she’s not busy being a wall, she can figure out how to get us out. If we don’t put the Heart back, Muse said the options were instant death, a life trapped inside here forever, or all the dinosaurs being loosed on Brazil. None of those are acceptable.”

  Trixie sniffed. “I prefer Vaudeville, and tall, dark, and hairy goes by Kodiak.”

  Ignoring that, Zita continued on. “Freelance, you’re with me, so your team knows I didn’t run off with the rock. You’re probably the least likely to trust me anyway without proof. If Wingspan gives us a lift, we c
an be there in minutes. We’ll replace the Heart where it belongs, and hopefully, the spell will reset before the tepui eats my friend.” To her dismay, no one seemed to recognize the wisdom of her plan.

  Andy stared at his toes. “I can’t land in the tree zone, not without risking toppling the temple and the trees and hurting you. If I take off below the ridge, I’ll just be crushing ferns, so that’s not too bad, but… I can’t hover, and I can’t predict what effect the downdrafts from my wings would have.”

  Zita touched his shoulder. “Wasn’t expecting you to, mano. We’ll make our own way back. You keep watch, and if you see us in the plains, come pick us up in your claws or wait for us to walk.”

  Andy opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning.

  “Right, let’s focus on business,” Zita said. “Is everyone happy now? Can we go? I don’t know how long Muse can hold the spell, and I guess you all want to go home too.”

  Sobering, the others nodded.

  “Can I talk to you, Arca?” The part of Andy’s face visible beneath his mask grimaced, set into unhappy lines.

  Zita punched his shoulder. “Always. You don’t have to ask. What’s up?”

  He eyed the rest of the expanded group, his gaze lingering on Freelance. “Ah, privately?”

  “Chevalier, you got Muse covered, right?” Zita said.

  His normally sunny face solemn, Jerome nodded and walked to stand next to Wyn.

  “Gracias.” Moving as far away from the rest as the small ridge allowed, Zita leaned against a tepui wall and watched Andy shuffle up to her.

  Andy said, “Are you out of your adrenaline-loving mind? We can’t trust them.” He jerked his chin toward the mercenaries.

  Zita shoved a long strand of hair over her shoulder in an irritated gesture. “What else do you expect me to do? I’m open to suggestions, but we need to get the Heart in place before Tiffany realizes the switch and comes back with reinforcements.”

  “We get them to leave and take it back. If Tiffany returns, then we handle it.” He glared at the three newcomers and brushed sand off his arm.

  She closed her eyes for a second and exhaled, opening them again. “Take a close look at W-Muse. Do you think we can detach her from her creepy rock hug? Even if we did, she’s in no shape for a fight. If Tiffany comes back with helpers or another group of dinosaurs attack, all it takes is one shot or bite to kill her and bring the spell down on all of us. Not to mention, the bear tried to leave and couldn’t, so whatever’s going wrong has already started. Muse has my shoes and most of our food in her purse. If I didn’t climb and do acrobatics barefoot all the time, my feet would be shredded right now.”