Change, page 26
“You said three things. What’s the third?” Andy said.
Zita waved a hand. “We’ve heard rumors of an ancient ‘sky god’ invasion from a few places, right? What do you want to bet he did too? Remember Chiron said he liked chatting with Clockwork? If a chatty Underworld nymph knew about the invasion and Artemis’s attack on the so-called sky gods, the centaur did too and could have told him that and more. Given that Clockwork was visiting other dimensions like the dinosaur one and making bug robots even before that—remember the ant pincers in the temple where you fought the gold statue chicks?—his Olympus trip might’ve been to confirm what he already knew. Clockwork disappeared into space for decades, too. Smart dude like that could’ve found the ship first, or suspected it was there long before he found it.”
Andy rubbed his chin. “One of Clockwork’s first public inventions were the insect-like clockworks that he set loose to clean up landmines. They’re how he got his name. And remember when you and I had to chase that guy through their amusement park when Zita was napping in a trash can? They had that whole laser arena dedicated to tagging clockwork bug aliens that resembled the ones on the crashed ship.”
They’re ignoring the most important fact in this. Zita gave them a reminder. “The ship bugs looked like the one near mi madre. Mi mamá. Not okay.”
“While that much circumstantial evidence makes them suspect, it’s not actionable enough yet where we can justify breaking into their facilities or anything.” Wyn’s words sounded like a warning.
Zita wasn’t certain if she was going to ignore it or not.
Andy spoke, “Why now? Why hasn't he done anything about it until now?”
“Are you certain he hasn’t? General Aetherics has been responsible for major technological advances since its founding. Our space infrastructure in the Seventies was quite different from what is now possible, and his company has made significant contributions toward that. Do you think Brie and Rani know?” Wyn said.
Zita could guess the answer to that. “Rani, probably not. Brie? She showed up in some custom-ass armor to free Rani from the prison island. I like her, but she’s in on it.”
Wyn grumbled to herself. “Very cute custom armor. Even the boots were super adorable. I noticed. We’ll have to monitor them, then. We should avoid requesting favors from them and hide any errant princesses elsewhere.”
Zita dug in her pockets and retrieved a small bag with the top rolled up and secured with a paperclip. She offered it to Andy. “Deal. Speaking of which, I got something for you, mano.”
His brow furrowed as he accepted it. “A half-eaten bag of spicy potato chips? Thanks, Z, but...”
She shook her head and picked up his food bag to clear the table for him. Also, the deep-fried goodness was calling her name. “Pour it out. Carefully.”
Wyn leaned closer as he obeyed, and five sparkling gemstones rolled out.
“In that video of Dee shifting, she went from human to megalodon and then back with her Atlantean armor intact afterwards. So, that means that oreikhalkos works with powers, and I asked Nikos. They make jewelry with it.” Zita waited for him to get her meaning. In the meantime, she extracted one fried snack from the bag and popped it into her mouth, not even caring that it burned her mouth.
His face lit up. “Caroline might be able to wear her wedding ring without it getting destroyed when she punches things?”
Zita nodded. “Nikos mentioned they’re having an exhibition of trade goods soon.”
“Yes, Caroline was invited. I haven’t decided if I’m going yet or not. Why?” he said.
She grinned. “You want to go.”
“I do?” he said.
She nodded. “Nikos has been playing politics lately, right? I maybe told him I heard Caroline’s man wanted to propose, but needed rings that would hold up to her powers. Dude was all over the chance to win points with the Athenans at the same time as getting on Caroline’s good side and publicizing Atlantean goods. So, maybe he’s going to make sure a master jeweler who works with oreikhalkos is part of the exhibition. And they’ll be open to limited but legal contracts as a trial run kind of thing.”
A smile burst across Andy’s face.
Zita continued her story. “You’ll have to work out payment yourself and handle customs forms, but better than a cloth ring you have to ask your ex for, right? The jeweler might want bragging rights underwater since your girl is something of a hero in Atlantis, but you can negotiate.”
He hugged her. “Thanks, Z.”
Wyn blinked and sniffled. “Our baby is growing up, Andy. I’m so proud. What about the gemstones?”
Zita shrugged. “The rocks could be for her ring or you could trade them to Atlanteans in exchange for the metal or something.”
Wyn caressed a stone with a finger. “Where did you get these? Did you stuff them down your shirt as a distraction again?”
“Do that once with some cash and nobody lets you forget it,” Zita grumbled. “No, they were a gift from a hostage. Don’t worry, I cleaned them.”
“What?” Wyn paused, fingers above a ruby.
“Nothing. But maybe that solves your ring problem? Just don’t tell Caroline that I helped.” Zita grinned at him.
Andy sighed and pushed the gems away from himself. “The money for her ring is something I need to earn myself, though I’ll happily go to the trade exhibition now and make a deal with an Atlantean. Not to mention, with Caroline’s position, everything has to be squeaky clean and untraceable gems won’t work for that or for taxes. Why don’t you keep them? You always need money.”
She waved a hand at him. “Too hard to figure out how to claim them on my taxes. I don’t know what they’re worth, but it’s over the under-the-table limit. If you don’t want them, I’ll toss them into our vigilante fund and we can barter them as we need cash down the road.”
“Works for me,” he said.
Wyn inclined her head and scooped up the gems, flicking the empty wrapper into the trash. “That seems the safest course of action. I’ll secure them in my purse. Your original investment is running low and we have expenses.”
“Investment.” Zita snorted and ate another croqueta.
Andy’s protest was only a token. “I was saving those for later.”
She grinned. “No, you weren’t. You didn’t change from your fancy clothes, which means you’re going back out with your girl soon, not to mention your hotel has room service and multiple restaurants. This is from the place two doors down from here or they wouldn’t have been so hot.”
“You know all the restaurants around here, but I had to research the museums within walking distance?” Wyn raised an eyebrow.
Zita shrugged and held out the bag toward the others so they could grab a snack if they wanted. “I pay attention to important stuff, like food. If I didn’t, I might actually have eaten the bad fish that Wyn used as my excuse with Dino while I was away. Speaking of important stuff, Zeus’s group has at least one more hostage to rescue once I narrow down where they’re at. I got a solid clue to the location of their base while I was in the Underworld.”
Andy frowned. “All those people tromped through the portal and they missed getting someone out? Or is Styx holding them captive until you show up with Dmitri?”
“Styx knows I know the consequences of not keeping my oath, so no, not her. You know how I told you Jen’s mental illness was keeping Hera from getting total control when I filled you in on the details earlier? They had a plan to handle that, and located a healer they seemed to think could fix Jen’s brain.”
Wyn swallowed and touched Zita’s arm. “They found a meta who can heal minds?”
With a silent prayer that telling her friend was the right thing to do, Zita did her best to choose her words carefully. “I can’t promise nothing, but they thought so, and they captured whoever it was. Since they weren’t in the Underworld, the healer’s probably still at the Brazilian base Janus told us about way back when Zeus tried to steal that SNARC ball in Brazil.”
“If it’s true, my aunt...” Wyn walked over to her bed and sank down on it.
Zita gave Wyn a hug. “As soon as I can talk to Mwangi and narrow down the area, we’ll clear our schedules and go, tax season or not. Remember, I don’t know if they’re right, but even if they’re not, we got to help whoever it is and anyone else they collected before they decide to kill or sell or do something awful to them.”
“We’ll all have to clear our schedules so we can rescue the healer and anyone else as soon as possible, as well as making sure we convince Dmitri to go meet Styx sooner rather than later,” Andy said, rubbing Wyn’s shoulder.
Wyn nodded. “Absolutely, both will be top priority and we can all survive with less sleep if necessary. While I don’t anticipate any difficulty persuading Dmitri, I’ll get up obscenely early so I can be on the call to him, just in case. He isn’t awake before nightfall Eastern time, so we have to wait at least that long to contact him. Knowing him, he’ll be willing to go on his next night off. That should be tomorrow night or Tuesday or both.”
“Let me know if I need to give anyone a ride or if you want to visit in person,” Andy said. “For either of those causes, I can be free.”
Zita nodded. “Ditto.”
“Thank you both. Even if it does not resolve matters as I hope, it’s a better lead for my aunt than we’ve had in an eternity.” Wyn smiled, but her eyes glistened. She sniffled, reaching for a tissue.
Time to go before the waterworks start in earnest. Zita jiggled the bag. “Now, if you guys don’t want to share my croquetas, I need to go somewhere not here and check my Arca phone. I’m waiting on a text.”
“Freelance?” Wyn dabbed her eyes. She picked up her tea, clearly biting her tongue.
“Are you two... I mean, it’s your business and all, but is everything okay there?” Andy awkwardly asked.
“Better than we were, but it was hard to settle anything while trying to stop a small invasion and ghostly body snatchers,” Zita answered the question
Andy took a croqueta and popped it in his mouth. He squeezed her shoulder. “I have a few minutes if you want a ride so you can keep recovering.”
Zita gave him a fist bump. “Thanks, dude. Freelance and me... we got some talking to do.”
***
Just before midnight, Barcelona had quieted but was not still.
Not unlike her.
Although she was pretty certain she could manage at least a shift or a teleport or two, Zita was acutely aware of her diminished powers as she strolled through the deserted park, following a path to the darkest corner of it, a grove around a statue. While cute post lights shaped like candelabras lined the path and a nearly full moon shone overhead, the trees still threw enough shadows that she kept a cautious eye on her surroundings.
She was fifteen minutes early for her meeting with Freelance, but she’d been unable to sit around and wait any longer. Even napping and eating had mostly lost their appeal.
As she drew close, he stepped from between the trees and stood on the edge of the path.
She stopped nearby and studied him, well aware that he was doing the same to her. Somehow, she doubted his stomach was tying itself in knots the way hers was.
Just as she’d chosen to wear her Zita form for this discussion, he was maskless and unarmored, though she suspected the sport coat he wore hid a holster of some kind. He searched her face. “Better?”
“Yes, I’m getting there. Rest and food are really helping. How are you? I hope you got some sleep and something more substantial than kykeon to eat. You had to be wiped after all that,” she said.
“Yes. Better.” He did not elaborate.
She forced a smile. “That’s good. Finally done with the Jen Stone job?”
He shrugged. “Yes. No. Now find Atlas. Held captive in Brazil to ensure Jennifer Stone compliance.”
She snapped her fingers and pointed one at him. “That reminds me of something I figured out while we were... away. Pretty certain I know the rough area the Brazil base is at, and I might know somebody who can narrow it down more. We suspect that’s the ‘small palace’ that the healer is being held at. My team’s going to rescue them and anyone else there. You want in? Your whole group can come, if you want. I don’t know when we’re going yet other than soon to avoid any captives getting killed or sold or something. Before we can go, though, I got to talk to a man about a monkey.”
Freelance inclined his head. His face was still, but his body betrayed his tension. “Text.”
“Will do,” she said.
“Take friend to Styx yet?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Not yet. He works nights in the US, so we’re going to call him in a few hours at dawn here. Hopefully, we’ll be able to go later today or tomorrow when he’s got time off. That reminds me. How did you get her to help you leave with Jen Stone?”
He studied the statue nearby. “Came while I waited. Traded.”
“You drank that nasty water?” Zita said, grimacing.
Freelance shook his head. “Language barrier too great. Promised to attend meeting if your friend unwilling.”
“What if he says no to me?” Zita said.
He turned his gaze back to her. “You’ll convince.”
She did not know how to reply to that.
Neither of them broke the silence for a moment.
I can guess what’s coming. May as well rip off the bandage fast and get it over with. Zita thrust her chin in the air and crossed her arms, setting her feet hip-width apart. “So. That’s business all done.”
“Agreed.”
Her hands curled into fists. “This is me. No tricks, no mask. I’m always me, no matter what shape I wear. You and me... you know me, even if not my specific face or history.”
He nodded, his eyes—so strange to see them—examining her. His face was immobile, but moonlight caressed a faint scar under one ear and under his stern jawline. Even though his face was still, his gaze seemed to sharpen on her. “You never asked. Achilles’s words.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what went down, but you’re not the sort to off a tourist to buy into a group of psychopaths, even if Achilles knows your name.”
Freelance considered her. “Not mine.”
Her eyebrows rose. “No? Why does he think so?”
“Never corrected. Owens attacked tourist.” Freelance touched his chest.
“He attacked... you?” Her mind raced. “Let me guess, you successfully defended yourself and somehow ended up in front of Achilles. You played along with the Owens charade because?”
“Teenager. Educational. Profitable. Too selective to remain with company.” He shrugged. “Owens mercenary name. Like Arca.”
She bit her lip. “Thank you for telling me. What do we do now?”
Freelance blinked twice. Finally, his voice emerged, that quiet baritone with the raspy, husky hint to it as if he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—speak any louder. “Continue dating?”
She exhaled. “If we’re going to be real and not wallow in problems we can solve by talking about for five minutes, yes. Partners and stuff. No more of the whole ghosting thing. That means if we think the other person’s playing us or is trying to break up, we say something so we can deal with what the actual problem is. If something comes up or burns down, we at least give the other person a brief explanation of why we’re gone. We said we’d do it before, but we didn’t, and that’s why the past few months have sucked. I’m sorry for my part in it.”
He didn’t speak, and more words spilled out of her. “I know I’m not your usual type, and I’m not rich, but I’m still me. We can go back to masks and pretend we never saw each other if you want.”
Slowly, he held out a hand. “Jack.”
“Zita.” She clasped his hand with her plain, stubby unvarnished hands with all their scars and callouses.
His hands were inlaid with his own patterns.
When one of her fingers traced a raised line by his wrist, she realized they had been staring at each other without talking for at least a minute. Clearing her throat, she released him. Immediately, she missed the warmth of his touch and she curled her fingers at her side.
Freelance—Jack—brushed her cheek with the rough ridges of his fingertips and then stepped back, his hands behind his back. “Not face used to. Innocent. Guileless.”
If he pats me on the head and tells me I’m cute but not what he goes for, I’m either going to cry or punch him. Maybe both. Carajo. I’m such a pinche idiota. She squared her shoulders.
He paused, and his raspy voice changed timbre, becoming speculative. “Bodyguard. Few suspect. Consider private security? Flexible hours, excellent equipment, full medical, dental.”
With those last comments, the stranger became the man she knew, and Zita laughed.
A small smile teased the corners of his mouth with his last word. “401K.”
“My current hustles will do, thanks.”
His face stilled and went blank again. “Prison. You upset. My scars.”
“What? Pues, that wasn’t about you. It kind of was, but I was mad at myself, not you. I got distracted by this papi chulo in his underwear when he was injured and when I should’ve been concentrating on the fight I was in the middle of. It’d be weird if you didn’t have any, considering your lifestyle and that you don’t have a healer running around slapping magic band-aids on everything. I’ve known you had scars since Brazil. They don’t bother me.” She shrugged. “Everybody got scars of some kind.”
His grave eyes studied her, and he touched his face and throat. “Damaged. My speech, face... limited. Certain?”
“¡Órale! I got an excuse to stare all the time at your body?” Zita realized what she’d said and hastily appended more. “Language. Body language. I meant instead of... I like you for other things too. I can deal. Even if I talk a lot sometimes, we both know I suck at it. So, tell me when I screw up and I’ll return the favor. I don’t care if you got to write it down or if it takes a while, though if you need a very long time to get it out, don’t get mad if I jog or something while I listen. You may have noticed sitting around isn’t my best thing.”
