Change, page 24
Zeus smiled and brought the walkie-talkie up to his mouth. He gestured grandly at the vehicle. “I do not have much electricity, but you do.”
Lightning arced out of the hood of the motor home and coruscated over the blocky metal body of the vehicle. It fell several feet, landing heavily and skidding toward the tree, running over a guard as it did so. The hood crumpled when it hit the unlucky tree and air bags exploded inside, hiding Koschei from sight.
The top half of the tree collapsed onto the motor home, partially screening the crumpled hood with its leafy branches.
Zita swore and vaulted out of the cave mouth, launching herself into the sky. She skimmed high above everything, hoping to be unnoticed until she was ready to attack.
“Don’t kill the old fool! That pleasure is reserved for us!” Hera squawked. The man carrying her had set her down and was working to chisel off the ice on her hands.
Zeus laughed and put the handheld radio on his belt, strolling toward the crash. His voice carried over the other noise. “Bring him out to me! We want him alive so that he can suffer.”
Other than the ones posted at the bridge and the general, the guards holstered their guns and rushed toward the vehicle, pulling an assortment of melee weapons out and shouting commands at each other as they worked to surround the smoking vehicle. The largest one positioned himself by the driver’s side door, while another stood beside the passenger door.
Zita’s back prickled, and she barrel rolled to the right as a gun fired. She glanced down.
Tracking her movements, Achilles himself had a long gun out and pointed at her.
She swooped and threw herself into the most erratic, acrobatic flight pattern she could manage.
A boom sounded.
Something hit Achilles from behind. As he whirled toward the prison caves, a net exploded over him, trapping his gun and arms at chest level. He struggled to get free.
One of his guys abandoned his position to help him.
The passenger door slammed open.
Koschei fired, hitting the guy who had been right beside the door, and tumbled out, landing in a crouch with a shotgun in his arms. He seemed unharmed, other than a small line of blood running from a cut on the side of his face and staining his long, scraggly beard. Somewhere along the way, the old man had lost his shirt and pants, and torn the bottom hem of his trench coat.
A beefy guy ran toward Koschei, a club in his hands.
Zita dove, intercepting the attacker before he finished rounding the tree. With the force of her momentum behind her, they both tumbled to the ground and away from the old man’s side of the vehicle. She rolled to her feet. “Koschei, where are your pants?”
“I need nothing to take my revenge, neither pants nor simpletons like you! I am not a victim! I am Koschei!” he bellowed back as his shotgun roared again.
“Half on Arca, half on the old man!” someone shouted.
With a huge boom and an eruption of white light, a flash grenade went off on the other side of the tree from her.
“Take them down! We want them both alive, but feel free to make them hurt!” Zeus shouted.
Still blinking from the flash grenade, three other men rushed toward her, while the man she’d knocked down took a moment to stand and search for the weapon that had fallen from his hands.
I should’ve rigged up a sling to bring the cattle prod. It would’ve helped clear some space around me. Zita had barely finished the thought when a cattle prod appeared in her hands. She hit the guy she’d knocked down before, pressing the button.
Although he didn’t have any obvious damage despite her attack, the electricity locked up his muscles and made him fall against the tree stump.
I didn’t use up Freelance’s power on this, did I? She swore mentally, but didn’t have time to check.
A shotgun boomed, almost drowning out the constant ongoing stream of Russian obscenities.
The first man reached her, lunging at her with a giant knife.
She ducked and rolled forward, away from his weapon, putting the motor home between herself and Freelance. Given the number of men here with enhanced strength and toughness, she didn’t want to find out whether any of them could apply enough force to hit and break her stone, especially her fingers. Come on, Freelance. You can do it.
The second reached her and attacked with a club as the first one struck again. The third hung back.
Dodging threw off her aim, and while she evaded both attacks and used the cattle prod to keep them back, she missed when she counterattacked.
The first and second of her new attackers repeated their joint attack.
Hoping to break his thumb or stun him, she struck at the first guy, again missing her target when she had to leap backward to evade the one with the club.
The third guy was waiting for that, and while she was distracted, he seized the cattle prod and yanked.
Forced to abandon it or be dragged into arm’s reach, Zita let the weapon go. She did a wall run off the side of the motor home and kicked the club wielder in the face, pointing her toes in the hopes of cutting him.
Her effort didn’t knock her target down, but a pair of diagonal slashes poured blood over one eye and cheek.
He swore, wiping at his face, and stepped backward, tripping over the man she’d stunned and falling.
Another shotgun boom reassured her that Koschei lived.
The one who’d stolen her cattle prod smirked and jabbed at her with it.
She did a low dodge and feinted a kick at the first one to keep them back.
Hera was just visible through the net of branches, the fury on her face promising retribution as her helper continued to try to free her hands. He’d broken the ice into two smaller blocks and was diligently whittling away.
Zeus stormed over by the tree, his cape streaming behind him. “Must I do everything myself? You will all pay for my inconvenience once I have brought them to heel!”
Zita hoped the way he’d avoided getting too close to where Koschei had been meant that his invulnerability was wearing off and the irascible Russian was still alive.
Her remaining two attackers paled, glanced at each other, and moved to trap her in place, one standing at the rear of the motor home and the other toward the hood.
The man she’d bloodied roughly shoved the stunned guy aside and stood. “I’ll get the last side,” he called out.
Zeus waved his hand, and electricity surged from the motor home battery toward the old man.
Koschei cried out, but she couldn’t see him through the vehicle.
Zita’s two closest opponents, the first guy with the knife and the cattle prod thief, nodded at each other.
The shouting from the other side of the vehicle cut off.
One man, the cattle prod thief, had not been completely behind the vehicle and turned to stone.
“What the—” the attacker closest to the hood of the vehicle gaped.
Behind him, the bloodied guy must’ve been partially visible through the imperfect screen of the tree branches, because he’d been petrified in midstep and fallen to the ground. The guy she’d stunned was frozen in mid-attempt to stand.
Despite the dark tint of the motor home cab windows, she glimpsed the people on the other side of the crashed vehicle. Locked in stone, Jen’s hands were still outstretched to the statue of the man who had been helping her. Her eyes no longer glowed. Several of Achilles’ men surrounded him in a petrified ring.
As the only window on the rest of the vehicle was higher than her head, Zita made a mental note to avoid standing too close to the front doors.
Zeus must’ve been in a better position, as he was still all too flesh. His face was dark. “What have you done, shapeshifter?”
“I got her, Your Majesty!” His face pale, the last guard ran at her with a huge knife.
She continued a slow ginga until he was almost upon her and stepped to the side, seizing his weapon arm and redirecting him. “Spoke too soon, hombre.”
Because of his size, her move didn’t do more than change the angle of his attack, but it sent him out from behind the vehicle. He crashed down to the ground as a statue.
“I will gut you like the worthless trickster you are. As a godling, you will survive, but the next few decades will not be pleasant for you.” Zeus drew his sword as he detailed all the ways he would torture her.
While she kept the bulk of her attention on Zeus, she couldn’t help tuning out his words as she tried to figure out a way to beat someone who couldn’t be injured. Since we don’t know how long Freelance will be able to use my shapeshifting, Zeus needs to get out from behind the camper van and soon. He won’t want to do that, so I’ll need to inspire him to want something else more, like stabbing me.
To her horror, something oozed along the edges of her mental shields, a subtler presence sliding over the edges of her mind, looking for a crack. Whispering something she couldn’t quite hear.
“No,” Zita whispered as she danced back toward the middle of the vehicle. She reached inward, checking, but the spark of Freelance’s power was gone.
A loud hiss sounded.
Even though Freelance was (probably) a basilisk, Zita could guess his question.
“Still fighting!” She shouted and strengthened her mental shields. Dios, please let me have even some of Freelance’s mental invulnerability left. Do I just not have enough power to fuel it?
Electricity shot to Zeus’s hand from the crashed vehicle and danced around the sword in his hand. “How dare you interrupt?”
Zita faked a surprised look as she backed up to where the baton had been. “Oh, were you talking? My bad. I thought you had gas. Did you figure out what to do with your sword yet? I got a suggestion for where you could put it.”
Zeus snarled and attacked.
Trying hard to keep her mental shields up and avoid the electrified weapon at the same time, Zita did an esquiva lateral to avoid his stab. While she hadn’t been worried about the cattle prod earlier, she didn’t know how much electricity ran through the weapon, and she had no desire to be melted, or to find out that he’d stolen someone’s superstrength.
He feinted, and then struck at her again.
Another dodge to the other side, followed by a kick at his legs, one that missed because she didn’t want to risk the sword. The ghost knows his way around a sword, but his body’s not up to it. He doesn’t have the strength or muscle memory. Unfortunately, I started this tired and won’t be able to go long either.
As if he knew of her assessment, Zeus stabbed at her in a vicious flurry.
A female voice whispered unintelligibly as Hera hunted for a way through her shields.
Zita concentrated on her ginga to escape, dancing back while she tried to keep Hera from seeping into her brain. Her wings bumped into the vehicle, and she realized he’d been trying to herd her.
And succeeding.
Gasping after his last attack, Zeus raised his sword and gestured.
She somersaulted away from the vehicle just as electricity poured over it.
His words ragged with his exertions, Zeus turned to make a stab at her, “Fight or surrender! You’re not alluring enough to seduce me.”
“Gross. Not my goal. Look at how you’re panting and sweating and with all that gray hair, especially in the old-guy beard you got going on.” She rolled out of an esquiva to snap out a hard chapa with the side of her foot to his knee.
Unfortunately, his invulnerability still seemed to be active, and her foot bounced off harmlessly. He struck at her again as he thundered, “My name has been feared for centuries! I conquered civilizations, whole pantheons of gods, before your ancestors were born!”
“That’s not possible, since I’m here. They must’ve been too busy making kids when you were around not fathering anyone for you to notice them. I heard you spent all that time hiding.” This time, she used an esquiva baixa, a low dodge that brought one hand down to the ground. When she came back up in a ginga, her hand was full of dirt that she hurled in his face.
His hand going to his eyes, Zeus roared and gestured again blindly.
Lightning streaked from the vehicle to the rough area of where she’d been, but his aim had been terrible and she was still dancing.
Hera was laughing in her head as she continued trying to etch into Zita’s weakening mental shields.
While he was partially blinded and rubbing his eyes, Zita hit him with a galopante, slapping his cheek with enough momentum behind her move to make his head jerk. She rolled away to crouch beside the hood of the vehicle, next to the statue of the bloodied guard.
Rage on his face and still blinking to clear his eyes, Zeus screamed and charged at her. “Bit—”
Gray stole over his face and body, the red glow fading from his eyes. His sword gave one last pop and then the electricity was gone.
Zita took a moment to send up a quick prayer of thanks as she scanned for anyone she’d missed. Her respite was far too short.
Zeus made his anger clear, striking at her mental shields so hard that she collided with the motor home.
Pain made her cry out. Desperately, she called out, “Still fighting! Don’t shift back yet!”
Hera managed to speak to her, each word burning like a drop of acid, no matter how hard Zita tried to reinforce her mental shields and not listen. It will be him or me. We can work together or I can destroy you utterly, godling. You have no chance against me. Stand aside and let me in, and I will show you more mercy when I gain my rightful form than Zeus would.
Zeus bellowed in her head, his fury palpable though his exact words were unintelligible.
I knew this was a possibility, but hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. My shields are keeping them out for now, but I’m not risking the world on it. Sorry, Freelance. Zita curled her lip and straightened.
“One last one!” she called out.
Hera caught onto her plan and assaulted her mind so hard that she was nauseous and almost blind with pain.
“Fuck both of you.” Squaring her shoulders, Zita walked to the rear of the vehicle and stepped out from behind it, head high.
And knew nothing more.
Chapter Eighteen
She was alive. Probably.
It was far too noisy to be Heaven. Among the various voices barking at each other in a few different languages, she recognized Koschei’s shrill Russian and the stentorian tones of the Atlantean strategos, Nikos. While she knew she’d have things to admit in her next Confession, she was pretty certain she didn’t deserve an eternity in an afterlife with either man. In any case, it didn’t sound like an ongoing battle anymore.
Zita forced her heavy eyes to open. She flexed her shoulders, shaking off the remnants of stiffness and settling her wings into place.
Freelance stood beside her, his gaze on her and a long gun cradled in his arms. Somewhere he’d found a length of cloth to cover the parts of his head that his goggles didn’t hide like a homemade ninja mask. Beside him, Jennifer Stone was curled up asleep under Zita’s blanket, beside a small pool of black water.
All around them, people bustled. Newcomers had arrived and taken control of the scene sometime while she had been petrified. Armored Atlanteans mingled with military in heavy body armor as they jointly herded a line of sullen, black-clad members of Zeus’s private army, weaponless and manacled together, down the road toward the Temple of Judgement. Trudging ahead of the others, two of the new soldiers pushed a gurney with an unconscious Zeus on it. He’d been stripped of his armor and now wore only a sweaty chiton, sandals, and blindfold, his arms chained to the gurney.
The crashed camper van was in the process of being pushed down the path by four burly Atlanteans while Koschei sat in the driver’s seat. No one had moved the crushed man beneath the equally destroyed tree or any of the other dead.
“How long was I a rock? More of a rock. You know what I mean,” she asked.
He glanced at his watch. “Six hours. Others two to three hours.”
Without thinking about it, she moved toward Freelance, avoiding stepping on Jen or in the suspicious puddle. “Really? I expected it would be the reverse, but maybe being so low on power... Did it work? Were they forced into their gems? Did Styx come back and throw them into the Lethe like we wanted?”
He paused. “Ghosts dead.”
“What? How? You didn’t risk picking them up, did you? I know you’re supposed to be immune, but...” Zita frowned and searched his face, but didn’t see the telltale glow of ghostly possession.
Freelance gestured at Jen. “Woke first. Didn’t touch. Drop in lava.”
Zita eyed the entrance to the prison caves. Now that she was paying attention, a narrow channel in the ledge began where the talismans had been and angled downward in a steep, smooth slide over the edge of the chasm. “I regret she did that, but if anyone had the right to...”
An incline of his head was his answer.
“Are we certain the ghosts are dead?”
“Styx says.”
With a sidelong glance at the black puddle, Zita nodded. “Got it. The nymphs would know, I guess. Why’s Jen sleeping?”
“Requested.”
Zita took a moment to parse his answer. “She asked for it?”
He inclined his head and slung his long gun over his shoulder. “Need leave.”
She blinked and realized he had to have waited around for hours with nowhere to hide. Suddenly, she was a little warm inside, and she touched her throat. “You waited here... for me?”
Freelance looked away. “Meet later?”
Guess he has something more to say. Zita squashed down the wiggly, unfamiliar nerves that sprang to life with his words. “Sure. Text me where and when, but I’ll need time since I don’t keep my vigilante phone on all the time. If you want, tell Wingspan that I offered that he would fly you and Jen back to the States.”
