Change, page 20
“While they’re normally just aggressive scavengers, I’ve been entertaining myself by training them to attack on cue. They start looking at things as food so easily.” Garm settled in his cage and barked twice.
The guard she’d choked into unconsciousness glanced between her, Freelance, and the creature. He scrambled to the monkey’s cage and struggled to unlock it.
Moving faster than it should have been able to do, the eurynomos gave a long slurp, taking most of the arm in its mouth and then dropping a nearly fleshless bone. A long string of slime hung from its unnatural mouth as it loped across the bridge over the fiery chasm. It paused, squinting.
Garm barked again.
The eurynomos’s gaze fastened on the guard fumbling with the cage and loped toward him.
With a curse, the guard got the door open and threw himself inside, slamming the door shut.
The monkey screamed.
Zita couldn’t blame it. She flew toward the closest dropped weapon.
Keeping the shield between himself and the guards, Freelance leaned out and fired his rifle twice at the approaching eurynomos.
It didn’t appear to notice.
Zita scooped up a long gun dropped by a guard. She guessed it was some M16-variant rifle, and she checked it hurriedly as she lifted off again. Not a lot to work with. All the cages are occupied, this is the biggest dropped weapon, and there’s nothing useful I can throw. Worth a try. Maybe this will pack a bigger punch than whatever Freelance has loaded.
Inside the monkey cage, the guard huddled in the middle of it, clearly trying to quiet the monkey. It fought him, finally escaping to hang from the top of the crate. The other two remaining guards were very quiet and still in the elevator cage.
Freelance cocked his head to the side, studying the eurynomos.
Careful not to cross his line of fire, Zita flew closer to the approaching creature, trying to find the right angle that wouldn’t put anyone at risk if she missed. She aimed and fired at it.
Her attack only dimpled its chest, but it did not react. Instead, it loped toward Freelance, crossing the wide cave with disconcerting speed.
“Definitely not easy like the snake and polecat,” Zita said. She fired a couple more shots with even less impact as she drew closer to it.
“Wait.” Freelance set down his rifle and pulled the shotgun he’d used before from his back, though no weapon had been there a moment ago. After loading another shell from his belt into it, he stepped out from behind his shield.
Zita blinked and reversed course to draw closer to Freelance, not liking how close the monster was getting.
The eurynomos approached the mercenary, who stood there beside the shield.
Freelance! Zita banked hard, diving toward him, determined to interpose herself or do... something.
As the creature reached out for him, Freelance fired into its chest, leapt to the side, rolled, and fired again. He stepped back behind his shield.
The eurynomos’s head and chest exploded. The main body of the creature toppled in place, while the messy remains of the head, neck, and chest splattered the ground nearby in a fetid ooze.
“Dude.” Zita blinked, pulling up and flapping in place.
The guys in the elevator were cowering, while the one in the monkey cage rubbed his ears.
Freelance nodded, lowering his weapon. After a glance at the goo-splattered shield, he picked up his rifle and jogged over to another one.
In the monkey cage, the guard flinched as he drew near.
“If you stay in the cages and don’t shoot, we won’t hurt you,” Zita announced. She started to fly toward the chasm, choosing a path that would not bring her too close to the elevator or the nasty piles of goo.
An unexpected sound stopped her.
Garm... was laughing.
Zita turned and frowned at the enormous wolf. “You losing it, Garm?”
His glee made his reply unintelligible, so she flew closer to better hear him and repeated her query.
“He might’ve deafened me for the moment, but he just made it worse for you,” he said-shouted.
Her instincts screaming, she turned back toward the fallen eurynomos.
The splattered remains of the creature had oozed into two evenly sized piles that now bubbled and bulged. Limbs and other body parts melted and reformed in ways and angles that should’ve been impossible.
“Carajo. You see this?” Zita said.
Freelance was checking his belt pouches. “Explosive ammunition out.”
She kept her eyes on the convulsing puddles of creature. “Whoever thought this and the hydra up needs a shrink... You got a flamethrower in your bag of tricks?”
For once, the emotion in Freelance’s voice was clear—regret. “Not here.”
In the elevator, the two men appeared to be tying the door shut.
The guy in the monkey cage caught on and screamed, echoed a second later by the panicked capuchin. “It’s still alive.”
Garm had subsided to giggles.
The eurynomos sludge finished its disturbing contortions, and had settled into two dark shapes identical to before, but smaller, only a half-size bigger than Garm. A few final oozing sores sputtered and sealed themselves as the creatures simultaneously moaned.
“They. They’re still alive,” Zita corrected the guard grimly.
Garm repeated the same staccato barks he’d done earlier.
The creatures shivered, their gazes moving between Zita and Freelance. They moved toward the mercenary.
She swooped to the puddle, dropping the gun and grabbing the axe. Time to try something else. The other monsters died when we destroyed their heads, and even if these things are tougher, maybe his explosive ammunition didn’t completely sever something. If nothing else, attacking with this will give Freelance a chance to escape.
The eurynomoi twitched and continued their creepy walk toward Freelance.
Using her body weight to lend more force, Zita dove on one and drove the axe through the creature’s skull, with a tip coming out beneath the wicked jaws.
It swiped at her.
The weapon was stuck.
She pulled, but had to release it and roll to her feet. “Get to safety!”
The eurynomos stopped and shook its head, the axe tilting with the movement. Now that she was on the ground, it seemed to see her better and lunged for her. The weapon stopped it from being able to bite, but it swung a claw at her.
The second one continued on toward Freelance.
Dancing a ginga, Zita dodged, falling back toward Freelance, who showed no signs of running. Right, it doesn’t have the same weakness as the other two mud monsters. Carajo. Let’s try something else.
He pulled the cattle prod he’d taken from Koschei’s bed from his belt and held it up to her. His voice was low and hoarse, but audible. “Try!”
Zita nodded, sprinting toward him and then flying to speed herself up.
Both eurynomoi continued their implacable movement toward him.
She was far faster and landed, taking the prod from him. “Go!”
Freelance got his long gun back out. He nodded toward the elevator, where the men inside still had their weapons. The one in the monkey cage hadn’t bothered to pick his up in his panicked flight. “Covering.”
“Gotcha.” She nudged him and raced toward the foul creatures.
They met halfway between the chasm and Freelance.
Garm cheered on the monsters; she tuned him out.
As they tried to pounce on her, she jumped up, using her wings to take her out of their reach, and activated the cattle prod as she smacked the one without the axe in its head.
Electricity visibly raced over the one she’d hit, and it stopped and shivered. The rank odor surrounding it grew stronger, and she mentally named him Stenchy.
The other one, Axehead, lunged at her. It hit, but couldn’t open its mouth enough to bite well. Its teeth scraped black marks across her stone with a grating sound and it shook its head, pawing at it.
Since his buddy had responded to the cattle prod, she zapped Axehead with it.
It did the same stop and shiver as the first one, complete with the increase in fetid odor, but Stenchy was now charging at her.
If they’re made of mud like the others even if they don’t die as easy... Zita flew back, out of range of its teeth. “Come and get me!”
Stenchy was quick to chase her, snapping at the air, though Axehead trailed behind, shaking its head as it went.
A squeal from the monkey cage caught Axehead’s attention when they passed.
Acting on a guess, Zita landed, cartwheeling away from an attack by Stenchy. As she moved, she spied a glowing red letter half-hidden by the folds of skin on its underside, near where it was missing sexual organs.
As she’d hoped, Axehead’s interest was stronger when she was on the ground and acting like prey. It rejoined its buddy in pursuing her.
Zita raced away from the exit. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she freeran often enough that crossing the distance at top speed was doable.
The grapple gun went off while she was leading them away, but she couldn’t spare the attention to see what Freelance was doing.
With occasional pauses to keep the monsters’ attention on her, Zita drew close to the edge of the chasm dividing the room.
As she got near the edge, she turned to check on her pursuers. Warmth poured over her back, and the reek of decomposition grew stronger. She tried to stop breathing, but it was a habit as she fell into a ginga.
The eurynomoi still followed her, but they were slowing and sniffing. Somewhere in the run, Axehead had freed himself from the axe. They drooled, their heads swinging between the dead, the elevator cage, and Zita.
Freelance was on the ceiling, using his legs to grip lavacicles while holding a rifle.
Inside the elevator cage, one guard had his gun in his hand and was either praying or swearing under his breath. The other one stared at the monsters and called out, “I’ll give you a week’s pay if you kill those things!”
Garm called out something derisive and barked.
A gunshot stopped him mid-sound.
The creatures’ heads swung between the elevator, the corpses, and Arca.
“Don’t go getting all distracted now, ugly.” She zapped Axehead with the cattle prod.
It stopped moving. The surface of it showed no scars, but its head had a rapidly filling dent where the axe had been.
The prod fizzled when she went to strike the other one with it.
Stenchy leaped at her face, mouth opening wide.
Zita blocked with the cattle prod, jamming it sideways into its maw and hanging onto both ends as she braced her legs. “Can’t you guys just take a flying leap?”
The eurynomos bit at the metal, shaking its head as if to kill the prod. Even though she’d gotten it on its rear legs, it was still larger and outweighed her gargoyle form. The force of its attack pushed her back. Crimson glowed from its lower body.
Axehead shook itself and moved toward her.
A gunshot sounded, and Axehead shivered and faltered again.
Even with her claws digging in, her foot slipped backward, toward the cliff. She realized the difference between these and Styx’s monsters. “Freelance! Shoot them between the rear legs!”
Stenchy pushed her another inch backward, and her left heel felt air instead of the cave floor. Beside them, Axehead gathered itself.
For a second, she feared Freelance hadn’t understood or couldn’t get a good shot, but she caught glimpses of him on the ceiling, loading a rifle.
He said something she couldn’t hear.
“What?” she said, holding her position as well as possible.
Freelance fired.
Stenchy froze, all pressure loosening as a bullet carved its way through its haunches and exploded out the front.
Knowing what was coming, Zita released the cattle prod and threw herself backward, flapping her wings to rise higher.
Black sludge splashed on her as Stenchy dissolved.
Axehead jumped on her legs. Its mouth latched on her calf.
They fell.
Beating her wings against the air as hard as she could allowed her to change their angle enough that she could grab for handholds on the chasm walls.
They bounced off the wall the first try, but after they’d passed the lowest cells, she finally got enough of a grip to slow them.
She kicked at Axehead with her free leg, trying to get it to release her. Its texture was slimy and meaty at the same time.
Now that it had her, most of Axehead’s attention was on trying to bite through her leg.
Despite her best efforts, she could only slow, not stop, their descent. Even with her claws, she could not get a good enough grip to counteract their combined weight.
The lava was so close she could see bubbles in it.
Axehead had both paws on her leg and was chewing. While the pressure was merely unpleasant, it was chipping away at her stone.
It won’t let go and we can’t go up. That leaves only one option. Zita changed her grip and brought up her free leg to help control their descent.
Heat rolled over her as the lava grew near, enough to be painful even as a stone. Everything smelled like melted rock and sulfur.
The eurynomos tried to bring up its rear paws, but couldn’t find any purchase.
Gritting her teeth, Zita let them drop a little more. Her claws scrabbled to hang onto the chasm wall. She flapped her wings for all the good it did her.
Lava engulfed the legs of the eurynomos, crawling up toward its haunches.
Droplets splashed on her foot and her grip was dislodged as Axehead gave one last downward yank on her leg before disintegrating.
Zita reflexively teleported five feet up, flapping hard and bringing both feet up to her chest. Free of its weight, she shot upward. Hovering in midair, she glanced down below.
The roiling lava swallowed up the last of a black slick.
“Pinche magic.” She winged her weary way up, pausing only to check the cells.
No one was in them.
Of course not. Zita kept going.
Freelance stood by the edge of the chasm.
She gave him a tired wave.
Sparing a glance for the men in the elevator—they were being very still and quiet—she kicked the new generator off the ledge, letting it fall into the lava as well. That done, she soared to the monkey cage, landing in front of it.
Zita waited until the man inside made eye contact with her. “Keys.”
Freelance strode up next to her, a gun in his hand.
Blood oozed from several small scratches and painful-looking bites as the guy in the cage glanced at Freelance and then at her. The capuchin monkey was hanging off the ceiling of the cage, eyes wide and panicked.
She was done with all this. Reeking eurynomos goop had dried on her. Her body would be covered in bruises for days if Wyn didn’t heal her, not to mention the shape her legs would be in between the divots gouged by Axehead’s teeth and the drops of lava that had splashed her. To top it all off, an imaginary hole in her middle and exhaustion weighted every move she made. Zita held out her hand. “Keys. I’m tired and I want the monkey. Neither of us is going to do anything to you if you stay put and don’t try anything. He doesn’t need the door open to kill you.”
The guard pushed the key through a gap in the chicken wire.
With a silent prayer that her gift with animals would help calm the monkey enough to return it to the nymph, she unlocked the cage and held out an arm. Might as well get a small win out of all this.
Freelance removed something from his belt. It was a crushed asphodel crown. He held it out to her.
Zita took the wreath and offered it to the animal.
The monkey seized it and then ran up her arm, curling up around her neck. Cowering and shivering, the animal shredded the flowers with nervous fingers.
“No prisoners here. We can drop the animal off and go. The next patrol will be here any minute,” Zita said in a low voice as she closed the cage. Absently, she picked up a new cattle prod as she hurried toward the archway.
Freelance said nothing, but handed her a shield, one lacking any of the mud-monster goop. He covered their exit as they retreated.
A bullet wound slowly healing in his face, the words that forced themselves out of Garm’s jaw were almost unintelligible. “I hate you so much.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hugs from strangers were one of the many dangers of a vigilante’s life.
Zita patted the kitchen nymph’s back and tried to peel the taller female off gently. “You can let go of me now.”
Still burbling her gratitude and excitement, the nymph finally released her. While she’d verbally thanked him, the other woman kept her hands off Freelance.
Rather than the gifts the nymph wanted to give her, like another fragrant asphodel wreath for her hair, what Zita craved was for her powers to go back to normal and a long shower to clean the eurynomos stench off. A lengthy nap would have been amazing too, but Freelance hadn’t gotten to sleep yet, so she’d have to wait. Best I’ll get is the sulfur-scented hot spring.
The kitchen nymph had not finished talking. “I can’t believe you even rescued him yourselves! Most of the time, the old gods would curse a hero and require them to perform tasks to remove it.”
“That’s called coercion where we’re from, and it’s wrong. We prefer to do things ourselves,” Zita replied absently. She glanced at Freelance and gave him a quick summary. “She says thanks and wants to put flowers in our hair.”
He tapped the wrist that bore the sergeant’s watch.
