Change, page 8
“Or you could materialize in pieces, or inside out, and then explode,” Andy said, grimacing.
Zita stared at him for a moment before switching her attention back to Wyn. “That’s... oye. Okay. Pieces and exploding don’t sound like fun. Return item?”
The witch studied the Arc, her eyes distant. If the portal leads to another dimension—which is possible given our adventures in Brazilian dinosaur land, Olympus, and Atlantis the past couple years—the return item will give you a way home with the hostages. If the portal leads elsewhere in the world, the return item will provide cover if you have to teleport somewhere.
“Look at you, all smart and all. That works. So, you think maybe dawn?” Zita tried not to let herself worry, instead rocking on her feet and flexing her fingers.
“That is my goal. That gives me most of the night to work and I can recuperate later. If I cannot accomplish it tonight, I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” Wyn glanced up at the night sky.
“If you need that long, then I’ll go home, pack the stuff I’ll need, and rest and eat since I don’t know how many chances I’ll have there. Unless you think I’d help more here? The city’s messed up,” Zita said.
“No, go on home.” Andy kept his voice down as he shook his head. We’ll tell the Euro team Wingspan dropped you off before heading to see them. In fact, I may do my obligatory appearance with Caroline right after that.
Wyn sent agreement along party line. She paused. “Try not to leave anything of yourself laying around when you go. Halja, or whoever their magic user is, can use something of yours, like blood, hair, or personal belongings, to more easily cast a spell on you.”
Andy snorted. “So, don’t leave your shoes around.”
“Cleanliness is next to godliness? I was hoping to avoid getting hurt and losing things, but I’ll be extra careful.” Zita grinned.
Her friend rolled her eyes and then added, I’ll let you know if they have any information that’ll help. While I’m certain the negotiations are on hold after tonight, I’ll cover with Dino for you as well.
“Thanks,” Zita replied out loud, her mind already plotting out what she might need. Warily, she eyed a group of uniformed men coming toward them.
“Excuse me. Mossos d’Esquadra and the Guardia Urbana are securing this area. Your presence is requested to assist with our inquiries.” The speaker repeated himself in Spanish and Catalan as a group of heavily armed police officers walked toward them, cameras mounted on their helmets.
With a practiced eye, Zita considered the group. Local version of a SWAT team, I think. They move like they know their business. We should leave before we have to fight them, too. We can always sneak back later since, apparently, we’re delaying.
Zita, I need at least one or two chunks of stone from the Arc, or as close to it as you can manage. Wyn smiled at the stranger and spoke in Spanish. “The General asked us to assist here, given the issues in the city right now. We’ll rejoin her and questions can be directed there. I would, however, recommend not allowing anyone to pass under the Arc de Triomf until we determine if the portal has been closed temporarily or permanently.”
Zita interpreted for Andy in a whisper, who nodded.
The speaker held up a hand, and the group halted. “One moment.” He spent a moment muttering into his mouthpiece and finally nodded. “Acceptable. Please go to her and someone will collect statements at a later time. Your advice has been noted.”
“Thank you. We’ll go to the hotel now so arrangements can go through whatever channels are in place,” Wyn said.
He gave a curt nod.
Zita shifted to a golden eagle and flew back toward the Arc. She circled it once, and stooped to seize and carry off a couple of broken brick bits while she waited for her friends.
Andy, carrying Wyn, floated up beside her.
As she maneuvered closer to hand off the pieces she’d taken, Zita sent a brief apology. Sorry. There weren’t many my talons could grasp.
“This will be sufficient. I should be able to use it to set up my spell to get you there and get you and any hostages back. You go on home, now. Before I can concentrate on the magic, we must coordinate with the European team to avoid any magical interference or having to sneak back to reopen the Arc portal,” Wyn said, tucking the fragments into her purse.
Zita couldn’t help one more complaint. But the sneaking’s the most fun part!
Andy made a rude noise.
***
Zita muttered to herself and rocked in place in the shadows on top of the Arc de Triomf. Dawn was creeping in, and her friends were due at any moment.
Local law enforcement was obviously stretched to its limits. Police barriers and tape surrounded the monument, but only fresh-faced officers so young she suspected they’d pulled in trainees manned it.
She assisted by not drawing attention to herself.
From the direction of the Parc, a small group was approaching.
Since squinting didn’t help any, she did a partial shift to an eagle for the improved eyesight. Feathers rustled as she focused on them again.
Six Atlanteans in full armor formed a guard around Wyn and Andy, both in their vigilante disguises, and Nikos. A gaggle of others trailed behind, men in suits mixing with military men.
Zita shifted to a gargoyle and soared down to meet them at the base of the Arc. As soon as they were close enough, she switched back to her Arca form. “What’s with the party? Did our plans change?”
Fatigue flowed over the link with Wyn’s words. Her friend clutched a giant coffee-scented cup. No one could dissuade him from coming with us, though we convinced the General to stay at the hotel. I thought it best that the renowned strategist not spend too much time with you, especially if Sir Robin tells her about his diminutive savior. The last thing we need is her theorizing about your identity and using her clairvoyance to verify her conclusions.
One of the many reasons you’re the smart one. What about everyone else? Zita asked, scanning the group muttering behind the Atlanteans.
“Most of the European meta team is resting or they would be here as well, but we have been graced by representatives from the Atlanteans, NATO, military, and local government to ensure all interests are met,” Wyn said, taking a long pull from her coffee.
More than one may be filming, so mind what you say, Andy sent.
Por supuesto, why not make this as complicated as possible? It sounds like you had a terrible night dealing with all this. I’m so sorry. Realizing this was a cue to be polite, Zita waved to the suit and military crowd, and then tossed in a greeting to the Atlanteans in their language.
Drowning out anything said by the crowd behind him, Nikos boomed, “Greetings, Arca! It is an auspicious sign that we meet again! My cousin had to return to Atlantis, but songs will be written about how she single-handedly annihilated the contingent who thought to attack Atlanteans in the water after we crushed their forces on the land! Truly, this party was much more entertaining that we expected! It is a shame you missed the battle.”
His guards bowed.
Answering the big Atlantean, Zita said, “I’m fine, thanks. Physical fights aren’t terribly common during fancy parties, or so I’m told. Glad you all had fun and made it out okay. Tell Dee and Ben I said hi.”
Nikos inclined his head. “Sadly, unless there is a formal duel or an exhibition of arms, that is true of ours as well, though I enjoyed our Atlantean welcome banquet for you well enough when you visited. I shall pass along your well wishes.”
Zita glanced at the crowd growing impatient behind the Atlantean’s broad backs and switched back to English. “So, our original plan is still a go, right? I’m walking through that portal alone and then using a magic return doohickey to bring any prisoners back here later? If I can, I’ll mess up whatever Zeus is planning while I’m there, but getting everyone out alive is paramount.”
One guard interpreted her words for the other Atlanteans in a murmur.
Any word from Freelance? Andy asked.
Zita took a deep breath. No. I’m hopeful he’s blowing me off again, and that’s something I never thought I’d say.
Sympathy and discomfort came over party line from both of her friends.
Wyn rubbed her eyes. “Our original plan has had some revisions. The situation is more complicated, with far more interested parties, than we originally thought.”
Zita sighed and fidgeted with the straps holding the blanket to her back. “What’s the problem?”
“When the General spoke with her contacts about metahuman dependents, she found out that both Russia and China are very upset about people missing from their nations, but neither will expound on who, nor what they intend to do about it, other than vague threats. The US and EU governments are upset at the disruption of the Atlantean conference and the fact that they’re being accused of being behind the kidnappings. However, you already rescued one Russian and the two known missing European dependents when you freed those children earlier, so at least we have made a start at resolving the issue.” Wyn grimaced.
Zita really hoped she didn’t have to herd hundreds of prisoners through a portal. “How many prisoners does he have?”
Her friend ticked off people on long, elegant fingers. “The kids know of at least seven other outright prisoners. They said they saw or heard an elderly Catholic man who prayed in Spanish, a loud American that we’re assuming is Wingspan’s faux girlfriend, a Chinese woman, a pair of women that periodically sing, a battered man who might be the missing Atlantean warrior—”
“We require his return and that of his armor!” Nikos burst in almost before his interpreter finished.
“If your dude’s alive, I’ll do my best to rescue him with the others. No promises on the armor, but I’ll try. I won’t risk everyone’s lives for it, especially since Zeus was wearing it when he was prancing around here. I’m not interested in getting him naked,” Zita told him in his language.
Wyn sighed and waited for Zita to finish talking before continuing in English. “The last known prisoner is Koschei...”
“Who?” Zita couldn’t think of anyone with that name.
“Koschei is a renowned Russian wizard. Were he not renowned for being notoriously mercurial and difficult, I’d love to talk magic with him, but the risk hasn’t been worth it. Hopefully, Russia will be happier with the return of the boy you rescued, the youthful ward of the Protector of St. Petersburg.”
Seeing Zita’s blank expression, Andy spoke up, using his fake growly voice. “You call the Protector the ‘Russian vigilante spook.’”
Zita nodded. “Oh, that dude, right. How can he have a foster kid if nobody can see him? Never mind. So, free seven prisoners and a set of armor, plus whatever I can do to mess up his plans, and come back.”
Wyn cleared her throat and seemed nauseous. “We believe Zeus also has female slaves he’s using as domestics. The kids don’t know their number, but they think it can’t be many.”
Zita took a deep breath. “Right, we can’t leave them behind, either. So, the prisoners, the slaves, a set of armor, and whatever I can do to hamstring his plans...”
“Before three days are out,” Nikos added as his interpreter hurried to keep up.
“Three days?” Zita burst out in English.
The otherwise silent contingent of military and men in suits nodded.
“No mames. Does that start after I leave? What?” Zita looked at her friends.
Andy had his best stoic face on.
Wyn still seemed ill despite her illusion spell. “Three days from Zeus’s ultimatum, so it has already started. We had to agree that if you weren’t back by then with the prisoners at a minimum, I would reopen the portal for others to go through.” They have a magic user who will attempt it otherwise, but I have concerns about his ability to open and hold a stable portal to the right place.
“But we were warned that I have to go alone, or horrible vague apocalypse things would happen!” Zita said. And you two could be lost forever.
“We found out overnight that the General, Caroline, Chevalier, and a few other metahumans received the same warnings from Dream Auntie that we have, including how you must go alone. While the European metahuman team itself has apparently worked with her before and is willing to listen, government officials were... less accepting of her mandates. They’re unwilling to risk another Barcelona or a war. Barcelona itself has declared a state of emergency.”
As soon as he received an interpretation, Nikos proclaimed, “Your oracle spoke to no one in Atlantis, and we require vengeance and to reclaim what was stolen from us! If you cannot do it, we are sending a war band through!”
Two of his men banged their spears on the pavement. One was smug and nodding, and seemed just familiar enough to make her think she might’ve punched him before.
I had thought your description of Nikos an exaggeration. My apologies, Wyn sent, pinching her forehead.
No hay bronca, but you know better than to doubt me, Zita replied silently.
Aloud, Wyn said, “They’re not the only ones who will be sending people through. Wingspan and I will be stationed right outside the portal for most of the time, and on call when we are not, so we may arrive promptly at your return.”
“You know putting a deadline on it really limits me because whatever I do can’t be that direct! It’s stupid, and so is sending in others. We don’t even know anything about where the portal goes,” Zita began. What if there’s a time difference?
We’re hopeful it will be in your favor. Since the kids you rescued said they were held in caves, I bought you a watch to use to count down the time, since your phone may not last that long without charging, Andy sent.
“The alternative is that various organizations will use their own methods to open the portal, risking destabilizing it. If that’s done, we’ll have no way to retrieve you,” Wyn said. She dug through her purse and withdrew a plastic lavender watch.
Nikos frowned and eyed the others. “If Arca permits me to speak privately with her a moment, perhaps I can move us past this point. Just the two of us?”
“The answer’s still no,” Zita said in Atlantean, wary.
The Atlantean Strategos waved his men back to stand by a palm tree. “Not what I was going to say, but it pleases me that my offer of union lingers in your mind.”
For the sake of those who didn’t speak the Atlantean language, Zita said in English, “He thinks he can convince me if we talk alone a minute.”
Her friends looked at her. “It is your call,” Wyn said.
Zita rolled her eyes, but allowed him to draw her aside.
Wyn touched Andy’s arm and fell back to stand near the Atlantean guards. We’re right here if you need us.
The smile dropped from Nikos’ face as he lowered his voice and spoke in Atlantean. “While my proposal to you stands and is even better now that you would not have the responsibilities of the consort of the King to curtail your freedom as much, I had another matter to speak to you about. As much as I understand your desire to claim the quest for yourself, Dee and I cannot afford to let it drop. You are only being permitted to go—”
Zita’s hands flew to her hips, her temper rising. “Excuse me? What did you say? Permitted?”
Now the big man smiled. “Your fierceness befits an Atlantean. My cousin is a new king and has brought massive changes to our people by revealing us to your world and inviting select land-dwellers to immigrate. Those who oppose King Dee and her reforms are waiting for an excuse to rebel again. An attack on some of the highest of our rulers in front of other nations and the claiming of a noble Poseidon-blessed and his armor as war prizes cannot pass uncontested. We must have our retribution. If you can accomplish this in the days I have granted, it will be acceptable because of your special status.”
“What’s that? Do I want to know?” Zita said.
“You have a history with us, and your powers make it clear you are from the lineage of Proteus, an honored Atlantean hero. You are also known as a close friend of my cousin and a potential bride of the Strategos.”
Zita wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t know her that well and I’m definitely not marrying yo—Politics. This is all politics.”
He inclined his head. “Exactly. Much of battle takes place in public opinion, and truth is sometimes a casualty. This presumptuous bandit who named himself after the sky god must be punished. If he were defeated even partially by a single small surface woman, even one with an exalted bloodline, he is an unworthy opponent for the full might of Atlantis.”
Zita didn’t bother to hide her opinion of that in her expression.
Nikos shrugged. “Otherwise, we must strike hard against him soon or risk re-igniting civil war and having land countries view us as supplicants rather than equals. Neither of those last two options is acceptable.”
She almost wished he would go back to blustering; his words were far too reasonable. Shaking her head, she walked over to Wyn, Andy, and the Atlantean guards, and held out her hand. “Give me the stupid watch.”
Wyn set it into her hand. Will you be okay?
Yeah. I hate politics, though. Tension coiled in her muscles.
I tried, but the stakes are too high for everyone else to trust a bunch of vigilantes to handle it, Wyn sent, her unhappiness rolling over their connection. Even though her face was serene, her body shouted her stress and fatigue.
Andy’s reply was simpler. He sent a wave of comfort over their link, almost burying the anxiety underneath. Sorry, Z. You got this, though.
For their sakes, Zita stuffed her concerns into a deep, dark corner of her mind and slung an arm around each of her friends. She gave each a squeeze and cleared her throat. “So, prisoners, slaves, armor, hamstringing under a timer. Anything else? I draw the line at baking cupcakes.”
“That’s it,” Wyn said.
Zita lowered her arms and squinted at the watch she still clutched in one hand. “Why is there a fat pink lizard wearing a tutu on this thing?”
