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Despite her naps, weariness weighed on Zita as she peered out the cave entrance and down into the asphodel plains beyond the bridge.
From the direction of the Temple of Judgement, a group of twenty men marched in the now-familiar black gear, with Achilles riding a brown mare alongside them. As they reached the bridge to the prison caves, they stopped. One walked over to hold the bridle of Achilles’s horse while the others lined up, clearly intending to cross the chasm toward the prison caves.
By the cavern mouth, Freelance was also watching. The ballistic shield he’d taken was behind him, shielding his back from anyone coming from deeper inside.
Even though she knew Freelance had probably noticed, Zita said, “They’re coming this way.”
Slowly, he lifted the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Stop. Negotiate Zeus and Hera.”
Achilles held up a hand and spoke into his own device. “Owens. Is that you?”
“Yes.”
The older man shook his head and remained on his mount. “You never did talk much. They’re offering you a good price, better than I suggested. What more could you want?”
As was his habit, Freelance didn’t waste words. “Talk them. Not you.”
With a head shake, Achilles made a few hand gestures and said something.
Five men remained by their leader and the bridge, while the others fanned out in a search formation. All except their leader drew their weapons.
At least some of them have air rifles instead of regular guns, she thought.
The general’s voice crackled over the handheld radio. “Your Majesties, can you hear us? If our patrons have departed the portal, I need someone to convey a message, stat!”
“The captain here says you have a very good reason for daring to interrupt us? We await the news of our victory, so we may address the world.” Zeus’s voice came over the device, tinny and staticky.
Achilles pointed toward the prison, and his men focused on the entry where the pair hid. “My apologies, Your Majesty. Do you wish to join us at the entrance to Tartarus? The missing bounty hunter has surfaced and requests an audience.”
“He had best prepare to kneel before the king! We deign to meet with the godling ourselves, but we will not spare long on such a task. Someone take this device, for the gods ride now!”
“Understood. We will wait here for you,” Achilles replied, shaking his head.
Achilles said something to his men and gestured again. Then he made a flicking gesture at his own side.
Zita recognized the move; her brother Miguel made the same movement to unsnap the thumb release on a holster.
While his men lowered their weapons, they left them in their hands.
Up by the portal building, two small shapes resolved into riders on matching gray horses, rushing toward them.
Freelance verified his walkie-talkie was off and then checked his rifle. He gazed at the collected men and horses. “Possess horses?”
“I don’t think so, the nymph said only humans...” Zita glanced out and realized what he was planning. “Dude. You can’t kill them all.”
He tilted his head. His rocket launcher was in his hand.
“If you fire that at them, the survivors will hide and the risk of someone escaping to carry the ghosts away is much higher. Unless that’s loaded with glue, we’ll try it my way first,” she said firmly.
After a long pause, he set it beside himself.
She peeked out and studied the plains. “The asphodel and other plants are all pretty tall. It’s better if you stay on the ledge here for maximum visibility when it’s time to shift.”
Freelance inclined his head.
Zita waited. And waited. Although she wanted to jog or exercise, she recognized her own fatigue and leaned against the wall to guard against anyone coming from inside the prison. Occasionally she would check outside, but Freelance had it covered.
If I could just pull a blanket over myself and go to sleep... she thought longingly.
Her side itched, by where her pocket was, and she reached down to scratch. Her hand met fabric. She blinked and unfolded her blanket. “What the... do you just think of stuff and it appears?”
He glanced over at her. “Have to own and need. Shift?”
Zita closed her eyes and reached into the emptiness. She had a whole lot of exhaustion, a tiny spark of his power, and nothing else. “I don’t think so. I’ll try not to need anything. Come here real quick.”
After another cautious glance outside, he darted over to her. He put the sole chair beside her. “Your plan. You shift.”
She checked. They were hidden from Achilles and his men by the cave walls.
Just in case, this one last time. She reached up and touched his face, tugging it down to her and brushing her lips over his. Releasing him, she admitted the reality of the situation. “It has to be you. I’ve got nothing. You got this.”
For a moment, they stood together, not quite touching.
He tapped his head. “Safe?”
Zita lowered her eyes and stepped away from him, sitting in the chair. “I’ll be fine.” Assuming I have enough power left to use the ability you gave me.
A boring eternity that was probably less than five minutes later, a horse neighed loudly enough for them to hear it across the chasm.
Her head jerking as she woke from a doze, Zita let the blanket fall to the ground as she stood and peered out.
A matched pair of pretty gray horses galloped up the path. Zeus rode the larger one, while Hera lagged behind on her mount. Their capes streamed out behind them and fluttered with the speed of their journey.
Achilles cantered toward the approaching pair, a hand raised in greeting. Most of his men split their attention between scanning the area, gripping their weapons, and watching the ghosts arrive.
Freelance glanced outside and then back at Zita. He slanted his head toward the tunnel leading into the mountain. “Hot spring.”
“And leave your back unprotected? No. I’ll stay back and make sure nobody sneaks up from this way. This is only a strong position if they don’t come up the tunnels behind us. Worst comes to worst, give me your handgun and I’ll do cover fire like we planned.” Her whisper might’ve been more clipped than she intended, her fake accent deepening with the emotions she was ignoring.
Outside, the horses arrived.
His mouth moving rapidly and gesturing at the men surrounding him, Zeus dismounted, tossing the reins to one man. A shiny shield and spear hung from the saddle.
Achilles paused, then slid off his horse and handed it off to another of his men. With resignation visible in every line of his body, the old man trudged over to assist Hera in reaching the ground. In response to whatever was being said, he pointed toward the caves.
Zeus strutted that way, with men closing in around him and Achilles and Hera a few steps behind him. He stopped, turned back, and waved his arm at the animals. The men holding the horses bowed. Two mounted and began walking the gray horses, while the third led Achilles’s brown mare deeper into the plains so the animal could graze.
Zita didn’t know how she’d ever mistaken the ghosts for the people they’d taken as hosts; their movement styles were completely different. Hera’s steps were measured and slow compared to Jen’s more athletic strides and faster gait. Zeus was far more comfortable in his stolen armor and with a sword at his side than the criminal he’d taken over would’ve been.
Without further conversation, Freelance returned to the other side of the cave mouth.
Zeus and the rest of his people resumed their walk to the bridge. He stopped on the other side of the chasm, staring toward the prison. After a moment, he snapped his fingers and took a handheld radio from a man nearby. “The King of the Gods favors you with his presence, presumptuous godling. Come forth that I might judge if you are worthy and if I will hear what you seek of me.”
Hera snarled something, her disdainful stance obvious even over the distance.
“Worthy of us,” Zeus corrected himself. “The terms have changed from before. My men bear reports of you aiding the thieving trickster, who has stolen from us. If you do not wish to pay a ransom in pain for her crimes, you would do well to include her capture and the return of that which she stole in your bargain with us. Her suffering will be legendary; would you join her or buy yourself mercy with an offering to your betters?”
What, they’re going to torture me more than they already planned? Also, why am I getting blamed? I mean, I did put Styx up to it, but assumptions, much? It could’ve been someone else’s idea. Zita rolled her eyes. The urge to grab the walkie-talkie and reply to Zeus was almost more temptation than she could withstand. She whispered, “At least they’re all getting into position. You ready to walk out there and do our thing?”
Incongruously, a chunky white shape emerged from the direction of the palace and flew near the enormous cavern’s ceiling toward the prison.
Freelance shook his head.
“You can do it. Also, what is flying around up there?” Zita whispered.
“Prove we have not overestimated you, godling,” Zeus said. Neither he nor the people around him seemed to have noticed the flying thing.
“Guns down.” Freelance spoke into his handheld radio, and then opened a pocket on his belt. He tossed two small golden objects onto the ledge in front of the bridge. The gem-encrusted jewelry gleamed even in the low light of the fields.
Hera pushed through the guards and grabbed Zeus’s arm. The ghosts argued, inaudible at the distance, but their bodies betrayed their anger.
Zeus shook her off and lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips. “An acceptable offering. I suppose you think yourself clever and want to negotiate for those as well. Step forth where we may see you with no weapons in your hands. I have no fear of you, but our men lack appreciation for the glorious deaths they might find in our service.”
His men exchanged glances with each other.
“Now?” Zita whispered.
In response, Freelance clicked on his walkie-talkie. “Guns down.” He clicked it off.
The flying object drew closer. The size of an ice-cream truck, it would have been the smallest, cutest motor home she’d ever seen if it had been less aggressively blocky, had fewer bullet holes, and lacked the words “Mighty Stallion” written in blood-red Russian on the side. Dispensing actual ice cream would’ve helped too.
“Guess Koschei got his camper van back. I got a bad feeling about this,” Zita said.
Freelance didn’t answer.
Koschei’s vehicle dove at the assembled men and Hera. A skinny arm emerged from the driver’s side window and hurled a small object before the vehicle shuddered and jerked upward.
Everyone scattered except Zeus. He turned slowly and put his hands on his hips as he stared at the object. “I command you to land!”
The grenade went off with a boom and sent up a cloud of dust, flying dirt, and... other, less pleasant things.
At the noise, the horses all shied and reared, lashing out with their hooves. One rider fell off, while the other was carried off toward the palace with the two panicked gray animals. Achilles’s horse reared as well, a hoof hitting the chest of the man holding its reins and knocking him down. While the man survived the fall, he wasn’t as lucky when the animal ran for it, trampling him as it raced after the others.
When the dust cleared, Zeus stood unharmed other than some holes in his cape and smears on his formerly polished armor. He didn’t spare any attention for either the gruesome carnage of the dead or the pair of bloodied men writhing on the ground. “More treachery! Know that the King of the Gods cannot be so easily killed!”
Achilles shouted and pointed at the bridge and Koschei’s vehicle. Four picked their way through to the bridge and lined up there. The rest spread out and shot at the flying motor home.
Zita’s thoughts raced. She herded them away from identifying bits on the ground. Those dudes mentioned Achilles is invulnerable. The non-ghost version of Zeus wouldn’t have survived that grenade, so he’s probably been draining Achilles for that power. I’ll have to use their men as barriers while I take them down. Given they portaled a puro pinche army out of here and Hera hasn’t pulled out Jen’s rock armor or any of Jen’s usual tricks, she must be low on juice despite what she took from me.
Visible in the front windshield, Koschei was obviously cackling as men scrambled to avoid his second pass overhead. This time, something white shot out the open window as he passed.
Near the spindly tree, Hera screeched. A large blob of ice covered both of her hands and she struggled to free herself. Her voice carried despite the distance. “Do not flee, you imbeciles! Free me!”
“He’s trying his plan, but clearly didn’t know it can’t work on Zeus while he’s borrowing Achilles’s power. I’ll try to stop the old dude from killing anyone else and herd them so you can see them all again! You work on shifting.” Zita swore and started to run out.
Freelance grabbed her arm and held it. “Too many.”
One man hesitated, then went over and picked up Hera, flinging her over his shoulder like a sack of noisy, entitled potatoes. The others nearest to her spread out, moving away, though a few shot at the vehicle as they did so.
Koschei brought his vehicle into a wide turn as he prepared for a third run, despite the gunfire ripping up the outside. He took his time lining up the vehicle with the man hauling Hera away from the tree.
Zita yanked her arm free of Freelance’s grip. “I know, but I can’t let him murder Jen or get killed so Russia has an excuse to start hostilities. You got this. I’ll buy you time and keep the old guy alive. Remember what I told you about shifting. Picture what you want to be in your head and let it happen. If you have trouble shifting back, go hide in the cave by the hot spring and I’ll come for you as soon as I can with Muse to help.”
Koschei’s voice came over the handheld radio. Despite all the interpreting he’d made Zita do, he spoke in clear, if accented, English. “Any last words before I kill you all? The horses are gone, Hera’s magic is out of action, and you have no source of electricity. It is the hour for my glorious revenge.”
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.
