image
image
image

Chapter Eighteen

image

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.”

He paused.

It was Zita’s turn to shrug. “You’ve been trying to get her home again for a year. Jen’s been through a nightmare in that time. She needs doctors and family more than prison right now, and it can’t be healthy to keep hitting her with tranquilizer darts to keep her calm. Wingspan will get her where you need to take her fast, hopefully before you have to tranq her again.”

Freelance inhaled, as if preparing to say something.

“Arca! You have recovered!” Nikos’s voice hailed her, growing rapidly louder. “You are the last to awaken, yet you are still stone!”

Styx materialized from the puddle. She spared a stiff nod for Zita. “I do not apologize for doing what was best for the Underworld, but I am pleased you were successful.”

She nodded back. “Understood.”

Freelance picked up Jennifer Stone. He glanced at her. “Conference blond. Ambitious coworker. Not real date.”

Zita couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Thank you. Hasta!”

He nodded.

Styx set her hands on his shoulders. Within another breath, dark water washed over nymph, man, and unconscious woman. When it receded, all three and any sign of water had disappeared, leaving only her completely dry blanket behind.

“Where did they go? The land forces will be most displeased that Jennifer of the Stone is gone. They left her here only because she slept, and they needed to prepare special accommodations to transport her. Who was that other woman? I had not seen her before.,” Nikos said, striding up to Zita.

When he tried to clap her on the back, she sidestepped it, picking up and folding her blanket as an excuse. “That was the nymph, Styx. I don’t think anyone could stop her from going where she wants here. Only an idiot would try.”

The big Atlantean shuddered. “The Styx herself? Yes, I see no need to trouble her with our cleanup. She can go with her friend. Your friend? The man of few words.”

“He was another prisoner they were holding here. I guess he had things to do, but he didn’t explain himself to me,” Zita said. Her wings twitched.

“Nor did he speak much else to anyone,” Nikos said. “The loud elderly man did, however, and claimed many things. He infiltrated the camps here to decide on the best way to destroy them, and you and the quiet man are his adoring but simple-minded servants. You both raced here to obey his whims and fight the tyranny of evil ghosts?”

Zita’s eyebrows rose. “That’s an interesting take on it. The guy who left and I worked together to exorcise the ghosts of Hera and Zeus from Jennifer Stone and the criminal who calls himself Zeus. Koschei... well, the ghosts held him captive and tortured him for months, so he went haring off on his own once I freed him, despite all efforts to keep him safe. Our plan had some side effects on me as you may have noticed, and while I was stone—rock—indisposed...”

Nikos snickered. “That has another meaning in Atlantean. Continue.”

She rolled her eyes and chose her words carefully. “Right. While I was out of it, someone dumped the ghosts and the items they were linked to in the lava, killing them. I didn’t see who because of the whole petrification thing. According to everyone here, there were only two ghosts, and my source says they are permanently gone.”

“You are certain the ancients are truly dead this time?” His eyes were intent.

“Yes. The ghosts are dead-dead. If it would make somebody feel better to know, the outward signs of ghost possession are glowing red eyes and narcissism. They preferred to possess what you call the blessed and had this trick where they’d drain power to fuel their lives and abilities. My source would know if they were still around for magic reasons I don’t get.”

Skepticism laced his tone. “Who is this person whose word you trust so implicitly in the matter?”

She enunciated to be certain he caught the name. “Styx.”

The Atlantean was silent for a long moment. “I accept that.”

“Good choice.” Zita snorted.

Nikos glanced over at the men in camouflage gear as they herded the mercenary prisoners toward the portal. “Truly, this will be a story told for centuries about how a friend of Atlantis reclaimed our own and dismantled the army of the dead gods in vengeance. Your land forces are less educated, however, in such matters, and likely will not believe in the ghosts. I do not know what you will tell them.”

Zita studied the thinning crowd and caught sight of a frowning man in a uniform with lots of decorations on it staring their direction.

Fatigue tugged at every part of her. “Me either. How did you get here? Did my friends get my message and save the religious conference? The archbishop?”

Nikos nodded. “Yes, not a single conference attendee was injured. When the invaders came, though it was later than you said and in greater numbers, they found your team, local government warriors, Atlantean war bands, and the European blessed team in a joined force waiting for them. It would have been a more glorious battle if more of the enemy remembered their battle plan or purpose, for they were in shameful disarray.”

Zita grinned and made a mental note to thank the nymphs somehow, maybe with a few pots of asphodel from home or bags of fertilizer when she brought Dmitri by to meet with Styx. “Glad that worked out. How long have you all been here?”

“Without tides or lights to say, I will guess we have been here more than three hours, less than four. Once we’d secured the conference, your Muse reopened the portal so select squads who had not been warned away could strike at the heart of the viper,” he said.

She made a noncommittal sound.

Eyeing the line of prisoners, he shook his head. “Atlantis did not bring enough war bands to join in all the conquest, but I am told the land forces which accompanied us have rooted out most of the mercenary scourge and are eliminating the last pockets of resistance now. Most are surrendering at the news of the capture of their general rather than stay here.”

She glanced at his armor, noting the suspicious brown splatter on it. “I’m pretty certain you guys did plenty.”

After a moment, the big Atlantean grinned hawkishly. “We did enjoy a vigorous battle at the portal. I am pleased to have suffered very few losses in our war band and to have had another chance to demonstrate the bravery of Atlantis and engage in a preliminary assessment of the warriors of your people.”

“Not that I’m not glad to see everything being wrapped up, but weren’t you supposed to wait three days before coming through?” Zita asked.

“Perhaps we anticipated the time limit by a few hours, but in fairness, they attacked first and the portal was already near our forces. Atlantis, and myself in particular, are in your debt. I have demanded the honor of our war band being your guard to the portal so all know of our esteem.” Nikos bowed, his fist over his heart.

¡Carajo! If it’s Sunday, I’m going to miss my flight home. The tax firm is going to be mad. They only agreed to give me the week to go to Barcelona in order to get Dino’s company to meet with their business division sales guy. I’ll have to deal when I get home. Speaking of working, I’m pretty certain I struck out convincing the reality chick to be nice, but maybe I can help Andy another way... She pursed her lips. “Is Atlantis planning some kind of show of goods? Worked ones, not just raw materials?”

He nodded. “Yes, the attack delayed it. That is one of the events being rescheduled for later. It is an area of lesser interest to me, but I know the delay doesn’t matter as we were waiting to finalize what we displayed based on the interest showed during the rest of the conference. As the caste of artisans, scholars, and merchants, the Athenans also have to inform us which masters will attend to answer questions and take contracts.”

“Do you know any jewelers who work with oreikhalkos?” She crossed her fingers.

With a frown, he nodded. “Of course. I am of the noblest bloodlines of Atlantis, and my family coffers are deep. Would a gift of such baubles win your favor or that of your government?”

Zita grinned. “No, it’s not my thing, and our government frowns on that kind of present. I might have heard a rumor about a way you could indirectly make Caroline Gyllen a very happy woman and get a ton of publicity for Atlantean goods at the same time. You’ll need to have a jeweler who works with oreikhalkos at the exhibition, and invite Caroline and her boyfriend to it.”

Nikos smiled. “My interest in jewelry has suddenly increased. Speak.”