Change, page 12
Pouting, Jen lowered her eyes and bowed her head. “As you so decree, my lord.”
Stand up for yourself, girl. You weren’t all formal and simpering before, or my brother would’ve never have dated you. Why don’t you stand up for yourself, start a huge fight with Zeus, and forget all about me? Zita fought to regain control of her muscles.
“Speaking of which, I’ll have a snack, maybe see what’s going through her twisted little mind.” Zeus reached for Zita again, grabbing a big handful of her fur.
Her nerves were still screaming from the electricity, but more agony shot through her, as if someone were eviscerating her from the inside. Tears sprang involuntarily to her eyes. Zita threw her concentration into the mental walls Wyn had taught her to keep her thoughts private, only half-listening to their conversation. Anything to distract from the pain.
As if whatever he was doing were effortless, Zeus made a disgusted sound. He spoke again in ancient Greek. “She knows someone who can manipulate minds, enough to have something of a shield wall.”
Jen sniffed. “It’s not worth breaking down now. If they also have similar defenses, Muse and Wingspan may take a moment to conquer. We may need Hephaistos’s unbreakable chains for him, after all.”
“It is well we have them already set up, then. Any delay would make our timeline more difficult, given the sky-gods already show signs of returning, and we have not united the world and the new godlings under our banners to battle for us.” Zeus retained his relaxed tone.
“Our ally has been gathering heroes and godlings to his banner. Think you that he might know who it could be?” Jen was equally casual.
He shrugged. “I do not know, but once we have our new forms, we can scour their memories, find the mind god, and add at least that one to our stable faster. If our ally already owns them, then the mind god can be one of his offerings once we force him to bend to us. If we concentrate on breaking the mind god quickly, we can use them to conquer world leaders faster and regain the time we will lose if Muse and Wingspan also have mental protections in place. Are you ready to open her cell?”
“Only if I can feed, first. I am empty and have spent most of Gaia for the day,” Jen complained.
Some small part of Zita puzzled over their conversation and how both Zeus and Jen now spoke fluent ancient Greek, but she couldn’t concentrate, not with the pain and the struggle to maintain her mental shields.
“Very well, but you cannot have her unless you relinquish your claim to Muse,” Zeus replied in the same language. He released his grip on her.
Relief rushed through her as the torment ended, and Zita drew in a ragged breath. Her paw twitched.
With a smile, Jen Stone set her hand on Zita. Her eyes seemed to burn brighter with that sickly crimson. “No, the witch will make us unstoppable, my lord. I’ll just feed.”
This time, when the anguish came, a whine escaped Zita before she passed out.
Chapter Nine
At least there weren’t any bullet ants.
Without moving, Zita took silent inventory of her aching body. Overall, she was intact. Body, four legs, tail, all present, if sore. Despite feeling as if she’d been scorched inside and out, nothing hurt more when she breathed or twitched, so she probably didn’t have internal injuries. She lay on her side on something hard. Based on odds and the dusty taste, it was rock. Her breath escaped in a quiet whine as she forced her paws to move into a better position. Her thoughts were sluggish, and she was cold and exhausted, despite the full night’s sleep she’d had before entering the portal. Worst of all, she felt... fragile.
It reminded her of chemo.
I have more important things to do than wallow in the past. Instead, she focused on her surroundings.
Her cell was a miserable stone hollow with nothing to soften it. In her Arca form, she would be able to stand up and extend her arms to touch the walls in any direction. Although she checked every wall, the floor, and the ceiling, the room had no door, and the closest thing to a luxury was an empty clay jar in the corner and a handful of dried asphodel stalks beside it. The red-tinted light and air came through a rectangle on one wall. It matched the miserable scent of the prison earlier—sulfur and smoke, along with the sweat and body odor of multiple strangers. Although she thought she detected Freelance’s subtle aroma, it might’ve been wishful thinking with so many other scents stinging her nose.
She had to see what was outside and shifted to her Arca form.
Or tried to.
Zita remained a coyote. Unlike when she’d been under the effects of the metahuman gas at the DMS prison, it wasn’t that her powers weren’t cooperating. It felt more like she’d been hollowed out and her abilities were gone, with only crumbs remaining.
Now she felt like howling, but she stuffed that deep down inside and focused on Doing Something.
Distant, faint murmurs told her others were nearby, but none close enough to make out the words. A faint crackling hum came from somewhere nearby.
Backing up and forcing her uncooperative body to leap off the walls a few times, she managed to get a good idea of the only opening in her cell. It was a narrow slit two feet wide by two inches tall and a few feet deep. To add insult to injury, they’d attached fine metal chicken mesh to the other end of the window. Heat poured in through the gap, making her pant and confirming her suspicion that she had joined the prisoners locked in the walls above the lava river.
Jen Stone must’ve literally have sealed me in here. What are they going to do, hose me down to give me water? I’m not staying here. Zita paced the few feet her cell allowed, back and forth.
Multiple feet sounded in the guard area above.
Her ears perked.
As if summoned, Jen’s voice rang out in English. “Take me to Aoede’s cell.”
Loud grinding and creaking drowned out the humming sound, but movement was still audible. Someone was yelling in Russian.
That must be the “difficult” Russian wizard guy. He sounds like he’s not too far from me. At least he’s alive. What was his name? Cookie? That’s not it, but cookies would make this place a lot more welcoming. Zita settled onto her haunches and listened.
As the creaking drew closer, the Russian shouted again. “If you touch me again, you bitch, Koschei will turn you into a walnut, crush you, eat the remains, and shit you out into the lava!”
Right, Koschei. As he continued shouting more odd threats, Zita tuned him out and paid more attention to everything else she could hear.
The sound passed by her cell and stopped.
Zita wrinkled her nose. The creaky noise must be that elevator-cage thing I saw earlier. I’d rather climb or fly than use that.
Jen’s was the first voice audible again. “I trust this time you have a song that praises me, and I don’t have to punish your sister again?”
Soft female voices murmured agreement, and there was a faint click.
A tinny speaker fired up with a drum beat, and a pair of pleasant soprano voices sang something dramatic.
Koschei fell silent.
Best to rest while I plan my escape and how I’m going to rescue all the prisoners. Zita curled up on the floor of her cell. Exhaustion and that sick feeling had her eyes drifting closed. Yes, I need to figure out... something.
She fell asleep immediately.
***
Her name woke her. The music had stopped.
Jen’s voice rang out. “Arca’s cell.”
The grinding and creaking sounds drew closer.
“Is the shapeshifter awake yet? You want we should strip her down the way we did the bounty hunter and the Russian for your safety?” The male voice had a predatory anticipation in it as the sound stopped outside her window.
Pervert. Try it and learn how hard I can bite. Zita flopped back down on the ground and faked unconsciousness. Despite the uncomfortable floor, the urge to go back to sleep tugged at her.
Jen caught his tone as well, as her reply was cool. “Somehow, I think something other than my safety prompted your suggestion. She likely will sleep the night before waking. If she awakens earlier, she won’t be able to shift for at least a day or two. In terms of power, she won’t have enough practice to have it return more quickly. Most of the current crop of godlings are infants in their power that way, and tricksters like her are lazy as well.”
¿Neta? You don’t know me. When did poor Jen turn so mean, anyway? Before, she was dangerous, but it was in more of an out-of-control self-defense kind of way. Now she talks like she’s from here with all the god nonsense. And what’s with the eyes? Zita bit back her grumble before it could escape.
Stone melted in a narrow, angled tube pointing down at the floor and barely the width of Zita’s finger.
Zita faked sleeping, concentrating on the ways she could escape to avoid drifting off again, though the urge to doze was tempting.
“The trickster still sleeps. Keep the battery hooked up and the current to the fencing on her cell running full power, in case she proves more slippery than we think. We have another charging near the palace that should be switched out tomorrow with it.”
They electrified the chicken wire? That explains the buzzing, but seriously? Zita wrinkled her nose and abandoned the rodent-gnawing-through-the-wire plan.
Jen spoke again. “It will please you to know that Zeus has told your general that he may award a group of men the honor of relieving her of clothing and gear once she has shifted and we have fed from her again. Now that I’ve deigned to reassure your hopes and fears about the shapeshifter, move me over one more, so I might speak to the bounty hunter.”
“Yes, Queen Hera.” More creaking.
Freelance? He’s right next to me? And what’s with the Hera stuff? I’m going to have to bite so many people here. Zita sat up and her tail thumped before she could stop it.
The hole in the rock was gone, leaving only the original window.
***
“Attend me, bounty hunter.” Jen snapped out the words with a haughtiness she’d never shown before. The effect was lessened by some rambling asides to someone to shut up, though no one else was speaking.
The muttering was more what Zita expected from the other woman. Her ears perked.
Jen resumed addressing Freelance, but now she softened her voice. “Your deadliness and bravery against our men and the word of our advisor prompt us to offer you a unique opportunity that you would do well to take. Rise, and know that Hera Hyperkheiria herself carries an offer from Zeus Hypatus to you, instead of entrusting it to a lesser being. Stand before me so I might better know you.”
Her ears perked as she eavesdropped, and Zita sat up to better catch every word. She thinks she’s named Hera now?
Freelance said nothing, but he must’ve done something.
Jen made a disgusted sound before continuing to speak. “Since we have been told that you never betray a contract once taken, and you attempted to seize Gaia, not to stop us otherwise, I must ask... was it your intent to return her to her father and claim his bounty, as you have before?”
Again, no sound came from Freelance. He might’ve nodded. Or not.
Zita would’ve traded her next meal, or at least part of it, to see his body language instead of just overhearing the conversation. She’s talking about herself in third person? Zeus did that too, but I figured it was because his ego’s more out of control than usual.
After another moment of muttering to herself, Jen continued. “Once you have proven yourself and I have no more need of her, Gaia can be yours to take back. We would simply ask you not accept the same mission again, so she might rejoin us if she so wishes. By then, we will control a healer that can end her madness, and she will be better with us than against us.”
Gaia? I thought she was calling herself Hera? Does she think Muse can heal her or does she have a line on someone else? She could be playing him, but Wyn will be thrilled if I can find the name of a meta who cures mental illness. Zita edged the inch or two closer that her cell allowed to better hear.
After a dramatic pause, displeasure dripped from Jen’s voice. “You, however, are a godling and a warrior, and could claim so much more than a single healing. Swear your service to us, and a fortune will be yours, not including whatever her father pays you. Each mission would pay three times your going rate—”
An irate male voice interrupted. “Three? I was there. Achilles told you his rates and suggested two. Three is more than you pay most of our officers combined, and he killed six of our men!”
Jen’s voice held a warning note. “Enough, Captain! Your general recommended we recruit him, and we chose how to pay based on his worth, and that is the price to start. The fact that your men died or were injured reflects worse on you than him. Do you dare gainsay the gods?”
Zita rolled her eyes. I knew Zeus was stuck on himself, but now it’s contagious?
Although anger laced his tone, the unseen male speaker said, “No, Your Majesty.”
Returning to her earlier silky tones, Jen again spoke to Freelance. “Since your injuries seem serious, your wounds will be tended and allowed time to recover in a private room in the palace before your first job.”
Carajo, how hurt is he? Normally, I’d assume he’d sneak out and be home before they noticed him missing. Zita paced back and forth in the tiny space.
“In time, once you have proven yourself, in addition to immeasurable wealth, you could claim a mortal throne and any women or boys you desired. Once I am Muse, I can make a potion that will make even a goddess beg to do your bidding if you so wished.”
Zita shuddered, both at the thought of being controlled and at a realization. Once she’s Muse? Wait, glowy eyes, third person, their weird-ass conversations... pinche Zeus and Jen got themselves possessed by demons. This one must call herself Hera.
“I can aid you in perfecting your godly powers, so that one day you might even earn a place in our pantheon. You will be able to receive the adoration of your followers and reward them with a token of your power. Thanatos, perhaps? The healer we will control would even repair your hideous scars so that others would see only an unblemished form when they gaze upon you. Were it not for those, your form would already... be quite acceptable,” Jen-Hera wheedled.
The urge to bite the woman rose, and Zita squashed it. She swallowed a growl and tried not to think about whether it was her coyote instincts or something else.
Hera’s voice held a petulant note as she continued, apparently not having gotten the response she wanted. “My husband gives you until this time tomorrow to decide. You will remain in your cell without food or medical aid until then. Know that if you refuse, not only will you only leave that cell to go to a death that will devastate a major city, you will be tortured and starved until then. The diminutive shapeshifter goddess is already doomed to suffer until she breaks beneath our will, but you can avoid that fate.”
Was it insulting or flattering that they didn’t try to bribe me to join them before deciding torture was the way to go? Zita forced herself to focus on what was being said, as Koschei had resumed shouting threats and Hera had lowered her voice.
“Be warned. You will find no kindness in Zeus. If he ever had any, he burned it out of himself long before he claimed the mantle of the highest of the gods. He cannot take you nor feed from you as we do others; for that and being male, you must either serve him or be killed. While I would never dare oppose him directly, I aid those I favor how I can. If you answer me this question, I will have someone give you water today. When last you captured this woman, Gaia,”—you could at least call Jen by her actual name, Zita thought—“you gave her something that stilled the cacophony in her mind. Did you bring that with you? We did not find it in your belongings.”
Zita glanced around her cell. No water. Figures. Not that I’d trust anything from a demon who claims to make potions that control people. I’ve got to get out of here, and soon. Is it too much to ask that they kidnapped an exorcist who wants to kick some demon culo all the way home?
After a pause, Freelance answered in a husky rasp, not much more than a whisper. “No. Require doctor for dosage.”
A rustle and creak preceded Hera’s voice. “A pity. Still, I will dispatch a nymph to bring you water. Decide wisely. Wealth, power, and an alliance, or pain and death. I know what I would choose for you, but it is your decision and you will swear one way or the other. As a taste of the riches that could be yours, I will leave you with enough to cover Zeus’s outstanding debt and then some.”
Something struck the rock, and it sounded like a multitude of small, hard objects scattered across the floor.
Raising her voice, Hera said, “You may bring me back now.”
The creaking sound started up again, passing by Zita’s window and then going farther away. When the elevator stopped moving, men fawned over Hera before the voices grew faint. The Russian finally lapsed back into silence.
***
For the next hour, the loudest sounds were the guards complaining and gossiping to each other and presumably the roving guard patrols over the softer background of the occasional muttering from other prisoners and the low, rushing rumble of the lava far below.
Zita spent the time re-examining her cell for a way to escape and trying to shift to a few different forms without success. When a woman suddenly spoke from the direction of Freelance’s cell, she startled, and all but pressed her ear to the wall.
In ancient Greek, a melodious voice said, “Here’s your water. Were you not a god, it would be fatal. As you are, if you drink and are foresworn, you will lie motionless for a year and when you rise, your powers will not answer you for a time. However, anyone who is stupid enough to drink aught the fallen queen gives you deserves their fate. The fallen king may hold grudges, but his wife takes action.”
“Don’t drink it, Freelance!” All that came out, however, was a series of sharp barks and snarls.
