Power: Arca Book 3

by Karen Diem

  “It was just a thought,” Zita protested.

  Wyn’s laughter rang out. “Very well, though I still think it’s sad that you feel the need to wear one. Where would you even find one of those, anyway?”

  “Ordered a bunch online, next day delivery. It’s close to Halloween, so everyone’s got them,” he admitted. “Had them delivered to Chevalier, then picked them up when Zita was out buying a new cell phone.”

  Try as she might, Zita couldn’t imagine Jerome in a cape. “What, he’s going to wear one too? He didn’t even bother with a mask last time, just big sunglasses.”

  Andy coughed. “His actual words were that he wouldn’t be caught dead in one. He said if it wasn’t illegal or smelly, he didn’t care what I ordered, and I should rent a mailbox next time.” He shoved a corner of his cape over his shoulder. It crept back as he moved. “Takes getting used to, though,” he mumbled. When he twisted to push it into place again, he tripped.

  Catching him before he could smack into the ground, Zita steadied him until he pulled away. “Other than that caveat, he’s a good friend to have.” She mused, “I’d totally not care what was in the boxes because I’m full of trust and shit.”

  Andy grinned, a hint of his old self peeking through. “Especially that second one.”

  She gave his arm a light punch. “Vámonos, funny man. Remus didn’t answer his phone, and I’m certain both the company and the Brazilian military blew me off. On the bright side, Jerome is coming. He also said while we were in Brazil, Miguel got DMS to put Janus’ family into the Witness Protection program. Apparently, his little sister refused to go without taking Janus’ favorite stuffed toy with her own.”

  Both of her friends smiled.

  “Thank goodness. That poor boy has suffered enough under the threat of Zeus’ retribution against them.”

  Andy nodded. “That’s great. Let’s get to the airstrip. Wyn, you driving?”

  Zita cleared her throat. “Since it’d take Jerome too long to reach the airstrip we used before, we’re meeting up at Rock Creek Park by the zoo, not by his house.”

  The smile dropped from Andy’s face. “I thought you wouldn’t teleport—oh, no. DC is a no-fly zone.”

  Wyn gave a high-pitched cough into her fist. “Technically, we’re not flying an aircraft, so we’re not in violation. Also, the decrepit airstrip we’ve been taking off from? That’s in the restricted zone too.”

  Andy moaned and buried his face in his hands. “I thought it was far enough out… Jerome better be ready.”

  “Be strong, mano. I have faith you can outrun a couple of stodgy military jets if need be. They haven’t even gotten close the last few times, and we don’t have time to wait. It’s almost noon. If they’re installing in the afternoon, they could land any minute now. Besides, it’s not like we’re buzzing the White House, though we could if you wanted.” Zita patted his shoulder.

  He grunted. “Sometimes I hate my life. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  From the broad, feathered back of Andy’s bird form, Zita took a moment to admire the view on the all-too-short flight to Brazil. How high up are we? We’re way above the clouds, but the air and pressure are the same as at sea level. The stars were brilliant overhead, a multitude of shining lights and pastel swirls against the pitch-black sky. At whatever the altitude was, it seemed as if nothing was between them and the dark expanse of space and galaxies.

  Jerome and Wyn also tilted their faces upward, at least until Andy sloped into a gradual descent toward Manaus, cutting down through the thick cloud cover over the city. While Wyn had her standard blond club-goer illusion as a disguise, Jerome had bowed to the inevitable and upgraded his outfit to a real costume. While he still wore the navy version of the tight sportswear that would work with his powers, the letter “C” now began at the top of his impressive pectorals and stopped above his tapered waist, echoed in the ornate belt buckle. A saber hung in a hand-tooled leather scabbard from the matching belt, and a three-quarters mask replaced the sunglasses he had worn before.

  Zita padded out to peer over the edge of Andy’s wing. As if someone had thrown a bustling metropolis down in the middle of the jungle, the unnatural and geometric shapes of Manaus shoved hard against the organic borders of the surrounding rainforest and the river, with tendrils breaking through in spots. As they neared the ground, she saw the famous confluence where the dark mirror of the Rio Negro and the silty brown Solimões met to flow side-by-side as the Amazon. “We want near where the rivers join,” she said aloud.

  Andy banked and drew closer.

  After a partial shift to eagle, Zita’s long-distance vision sharpened. She ignored the soft rustle of feathers on her head and neck, pleased she had the sight enhancement she wanted. At least the Manaus Air Force base is obvious. This is the right area, and it’s far less busy than the other one with all the traffic and the swarms of baggage trucks. “There, see those four hangars in a row with helicopters parked in the circles out front? They’re south of the swimming pool. Unless they’re renting the airport out for private parties, that jet has to be it, since it screams corporate, not military. Wingspan, squawk or something when we’re low enough for me go scope more out. They might’ve noticed us, so remember not to eat anyone and try to let the others off close by.”

  The high-pitched chirrup that Andy made in response sounded like a giant-sized, newly hatched chick that had just been insulted.

  “Dude, not trying to diss you, but you asked me to remind you eating people is bad. I’m keeping my word here.” She continued studying the base. Individual cars were now visible. Small hordes of soldiers swarmed every chokepoint on the roads leading in. On the river, military boats blocked both directions. Other fortifications resolved themselves as her friend drew closer.

  “Are those tanks? Did they actually listen to me? That’d be a first.” Zita stared, and as she watched, the tank shuddered, and a massive flash of light emerged from the muzzle, followed by a cloud of dust and smoke. The corresponding explosion of a car approaching the base was echoed a moment later by a second near the other major road blockade as it belched forth its own attack. Down by the river, a third tank aimed at the tributary that came closest to the airstrip. On the Rio Negro, the naval barricade exchanged gunfire with a group of motorboats.

  Behind her, Jerome stirred. “They have a tank? For real? Are we even necessary if they have those? I doubt it was your warning. It’s probably standard military procedure when an item worth billions flies into your airport.” His tone grew thoughtful as he joined her in peering over the wing, though he stayed closer to the main body of the bird. “Do you think I’d need a special license to drive a tank in DC? Parking would be so much easier.”

  Andy flew lower still, and she could make out each person. By a hangar, Brazilian soldiers fanned out into a large circle around the corporate jet. One clump of soldiers formed a smaller oval around a pair of officers (or the most decorated grunts she’d ever seen). Multiple squads patrolled the immediate area. All the uniforms had automatic firearms on their back with the ease of people who’d worn the weapon many times.

  Zita summarized for the others. “Oye, the Brazilian military ain’t playing. They got three tanks and started without us. Since fighting’s already underway, the SNARC ball must be on the base, probably in that fancy jet, so let’s hurry. I’m still trying to decide if attacking the checkpoints is meant to draw off some of the military forces or be a distraction or both. They have no reason to use the roads when they can just portal in.”

  Rotors spun up from rest on two helicopters parked outside the hangars, and more worrisome, an armored vehicle emerged from one of the other hangers, missiles bristling on an attachment at the rear.

  She ran a hand over downy feathers covering her head. “And now they see us, so they’re mobilizing helicopters and a souped-up armored car with eight million rockets on it. Be careful, mano.”

  He chirped.

  Zita readied herse
lf at the edge of Andy’s wing and glanced over her shoulder at Jerome and Wyn. “We’re good on the crappy plan? Chevalier, you get Muse to safety, so she can talk the Brazilians into not shooting us. You go fight once she’s set somewhere and not a target. Muse, you be all diplomatic and healer-y and kick magic culo. Wingspan, get down and punch the bad guys back to sanity when you get the chance. We can’t handle all the people attacking, so focus on the ones with powers. Trust the Brazilian military to stomp the regular thugs.”

  Wyn took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. “I am as prepared as I can be,” she said. Party line rose, bringing her warm presence and Andy’s more distant one to Zita’s mind. Even though it was invisible beneath her illusion, she wore a small earpiece that matched Jerome’s so they could all communicate. As shapeshifters, neither Andy nor Zita had received one for fear of accidentally destroying it.

  “Uh-huh.” Jerome’s reply was distracted as he focused on the helicopters, which had taken off and angled to meet them.

  As Zita became a gavião-real and flew from Andy’s back, she heard Jerome asking from behind her, “Are those missile launchers next to the giant machine guns on the copters?”

  She soared down, searching for the telltale glimmer of a portal when she heard a whoosh and a high-pitched whine. Whirling, she noticed two streaks of light detach from the helicopters and hit Andy, once in the stomach and again on the wings. When she spun back around to a normal flying position, a piercing screech escaped her. Andy! Wyn! Is everyone okay?

  Sounding confused, Wyn replied, Did something happen? They missed.

  No, they didn’t. They scored direct hits on Andy. When Zita risked another glance, she saw no evidence of the attacks, save for the dissipating smoke.

  To Zita’s surprise, Andy’s bird form spoke over the connection, his voice echoing and resonating, eerily like multiple people speaking in perfect unison. We are fine. I won’t risk the village below getting hit.

  Studying his feathers, Zita could see no damage, though the helicopters hovered near him as if they were foxes outside a henhouse. Anything over a million people is more city than not, but I’m glad you’re good. The ground rockets will be their next gambit, I bet.

  Andy released a series of high-pitched sounds that resembled giggles, if said laughter included a roll of thunder. Let them.

  After a moment of silence, Wyn’s mental voice was prim. Jerome says he’s impressed that you didn’t even flinch, Big Bird. Zita, can you ask them to not fire on us, so we can land? I’ll mediate once I’m down and perhaps stop them from wasting their energies after that. We’d all enjoy returning home tonight.

  I’ll do what I can, but you know me. Zita turned and flew toward the corporate jet.

  Wyn’s reply held both fond overtones and resignation. We’ll expect more trouble, then.

  Haters. Zita sniffed.

  Between two of the hangars and a large outbuilding, the sleek plane would’ve been hidden from anyone on the ground, unless they approached from the runway. A truck nestled under one wing. As she watched, a vaguely familiar man placed traffic cones around it, then handed off a set of rolling stairs to the passenger area to someone else. Another man attached something to the plane. An honor guard maintained defensive positions in a loose circle. Pushback tugs pulled fighter planes to the edge of the runway, leaving them in a position guaranteed to allow a faster takeoff. Between those, the cordons on both land and river, and the armored anti-aircraft weapon, most of the approaches to the hanger were blocked if attackers used a vehicle. Irregular bursts of gunfire broke the air, punctuated by the deep, guttural booms of larger weapons, likely the tanks. Despite the noise of combat, Zita could still hear the unending frog and bird chorus that characterized the Amazon.

  The military has it handled for large groups, but a few people on foot could sneak in if they hid in the local flora and the stacked piles of crap. Zita landed behind a tiny, red-roofed outbuilding, east of the hangars.

  From her new position, she could see one of the more decorated officers and the squad led by the oldest sergeant (or at least the guy with the whitest hair), bunched up between the hangar that hid the plane from her sight and the helicopters to the southwest. A blue Jeep was parked north of her on the side closest to the city. Thick rainforest of mixed palms and other trees was to her east. With relief, she noted crates that could provide temporary hiding places for when her diplomacy failed. If my diplomacy fails. I’ve been practicing so I might be able to talk them into not shooting us. Weirder things have happened.

  After shifting to Arca, she wrinkled her nose at the expected, but nasty, scents of coarse, hot asphalt and the tang of airplane exhaust up close. The stink drowned out the far more pleasant smells of the nearby jungle. Before she could do more than straighten her mask, her pocket rang. She jerked back and withdrew into the shadows thrown by a crate. A frown creased her brow at the name on the display. Andy? How can you be calling me? I didn’t think we’d get service here on these. Glancing up, she still saw his shape circling.

  As she opened the phone, Zita said, “Hello?”

  “Nice ride if you can get it.” Trixie’s voice greeted her without preamble. “Boss man said to tell you the portal’s at three twenty from the Jeep near you.”

  Zita glanced around, calculating the angle. Her eyes scanned the area, but she couldn’t decide where the mercenaries were. Freelance would have to be on a building or tree, and I didn’t see him on a hangar. He could be on top of that military hospital or all the way in the city, but that’s close to a mile away. She whispered, “Gracias. Are you guys on our side this time?”

  What? Andy’s still flying. Wyn asked.

  A dinosaur didn’t eat Andy’s phone like we thought. Trixie has it and is babbling on it now.

  Trixie complained, “You know, this could have gone smoother if you’d shared info with us. No worries, even when Ms. Halja pays her bills, we won’t be working for her again. We have firm rules against repeat contracts with customers who attempt to kill us and loot our stuff. Strangely, it’s more common than you’d think. It’s so hard to find good employers these days.”

  Zita paused, drawn in despite herself. “I’d assume it happens pretty often.”

  You’re being facetious, right? You never check your phone. Why would you answer it in the middle of all this? Wyn sent.

  “Well, you’ve got a nasty, suspicious, and surprisingly realistic take. Boss also has us abiding by boring rules about no freebies, no collateral damage, no participation in invasions, and no working for criminal causes. Our most important rule is no white chocolate. It’s the real stuff only because life is too short for fake chocolate. We have standards. That was my contribution.” Trixie sniffed.

  While she had been distracted, the military had been busy. Four men, including the grizzled sergeant, burst out from around the corner and jogged toward Zita’s hiding place, barking orders in Portuguese for her to drop to the ground and spread her limbs.

  “This isn’t a good time, but we didn’t know whose side you would be on. If you can, get them not to kill us.” Zita raised her arms in the air, keeping the hand with the phone closer to her ear, and tried to appear harmless. No need to shoot the nice masked lady with the sweet muscle definition trespassing on your base while it is under attack. She grimaced. Now that I think about it, I hope that being fun-sized, obviously unarmed in this pseudo-Spandex stuff, and whatever makes people not take me seriously will help me for once.

  “Sorry, out of my bailiwick! This was amusing. Chat soon!” Trixie hung up.

  “Down, now!” the men ordered.

  All of them held their guns right, she was gratified to see. Zita got to her knees but posed her back foot to let her dodge or spring up if needed. If this is how I will go out, I’m happier to get it from someone who knows what they’re doing and not just some idiot who can’t even handle his gun.

  What? Wyn squawked.

  Not now. Busy talking so you can land without getting sho
t up. Using her thumb, Zita flipped her phone shut. “Hey, guys,” she said in Portuguese. “I’m glad you’re here. Listen, I called in a warning earlier about people attacking? My friends and I came to back you up against anyone with powers, even brought a healer for the injured. The bad guys are using a portal to bring in troops. It’s in position three twenty o’clock from that Jeep over there. You need to get men there, especially if you’ve got other metahumans on your side. By our count, the bad guys are throwing hundred criminals at you plus whatever super-powered thugs they had before that. I don’t know what you’ve taken down at the checkpoints, but they’re on your base.” Keeping her arms raised, she angled them toward the supposed portal location.

  The sergeant hefted a radio from his belt and spoke low into it. A three-man squad emerged from the other side of the hangar and advanced past the Jeep, melting into the jungle.

  Carajo, they would’ve hit me from behind if I didn’t cooperate. They really aren’t playing, but at least I’m still alive. Zita inhaled and offered a weak smile.

  A screech broke out from behind the car and gunfire erupted.

  Keeping close together, the three men who had walked by earlier raced back in a retreat. “Monsters!” someone shouted in Portuguese, his attention never lifting from whatever he was blowing rounds at. Of his companions, one supported another, who bled from a leg injury.

  “That sounds like the people I was trying to warn you about. Are they man-shaped and made of mud and stank?” she asked, her words trailing off as a familiar jaguar-sized dinosaur leapt on top of the Jeep.

  Two more came around the sides, hissing. Although they retained their speed, these were almost clumsy in contrast to the living ones. The creature on the top teetered on his perch. Their scales were a sickly gray-brown vomit color, and white covered their eyes, as if spider webs obscured them. A couple were missing an eye, and the third had a hole in the center of its forehead, in addition to neat clusters of bullet holes in the chests and a growing collection of wounds that made their muscles shiver as the creatures continued forward, snapping their deadly teeth. Oddly, they all wore small collars. From her position near the ground, she noticed a brown gem inset in each collar, invisible until the dinosaurs lifted their heads to charge at the soldiers.