The Reluctant Amazon (Alliance of the Amazons) (14 page)

“
Sí,
MacKay,” Ix Chel replied. “Jin
has made his move.”

“We’re ready for him,” Megan said, never bothering to defer to
the Sentinel whenever a goddess came to call.

Freya smiled, obviously pleased with the fire in her Fire.

“What has he done?” Artair asked.

“His usual mischief,” Freya replied. “At current count, over
forty young women are missing. All blondes. One of the unfortunate girls is only
fourteen.”

Small sparks rose from Megan’s hair. “What do they have in
common, besides being blonde? Where are these girls from?”

“They are all orphans from many different countries,” Rhiannon
replied. “Most had been fostered to families, but these girls seemed to have no
bonds to their hosts.”

Rhiannon shifted her gaze to Freya. “Black magicks keep these
disappearances a secret. Jin does not hold the kind of power one would need to
escape his island prison. ’Tis the Seior. And it surely comes from
you.
”

Freya popped a large flame from the tip of her index finger and
tossed it toward Rhiannon. It fell to the grass at the Earth goddess’s feet and
continued to burn like some small campfire.

Rhiannon twirled her finger, and a small funnel of dust rose to
snuff the flame.

“My brother practices Seior,” Freya insisted. “I do not.”

“That is not true,” Rhiannon replied. “You have been known to
wet your hawk’s beak at the black magicks as well.”

“It was not me!” A small plume of smoke rose from Freya’s
white-blond hair.

“Then perhaps your twin is behind this. Perhaps Freyjr is to
blame. And you had the nerve to call
me
‘Mischief.’”

Freya scoffed. “You dare to suggest I am behind those missing
girls? You dare suggest I brought about the Air Amazon’s death? You stir up
trouble where you should not.”

Rebecca was grateful when Ix Chel stepped between the
squabbling goddesses, throwing each a chastising frown. “This is not about
either of you. It is about losing my Maria. It is about young women who might be
in danger, and it is about finding the missing Amazons and protecting the new.”
Turning to Megan, Ix Chel said, “The new Sentinel has created an algorithm to
patrol news from all over this world. He uncovered the stories of the missing
girls.”

Looking to Artair, Rebecca wondered how that bit of information
would affect him. As usual, his face remained stoic. Yet he had to be concerned
that the evolving world had passed him by. A stab of hurt pierced her heart as
she pictured another woman, a mortal woman, teaching him about the technology he
hadn’t learned while suspended in time here in Avalon.

“’Tis easier to know these things in this time,” he said. “In
days of old, an entire village could go missing, and there wouldn’t be word to
the rest of the world. You cannot hide information in this age. I find it harder
and harder to work the magicks I need to erase memories after a fight.”

She was having a hard time paying attention as Rhiannon’s eyes
now seemed to be following her every move.

The goddess spoke again, but not to Rebecca. Rhiannon turned to
Artair. “Ganga cannot find Trishna, just as I am still seeking Helen. Yet, I
feel no danger for my Earth.” She glanced toward Rebecca. “My
stronger
Earth.”

Rebecca bit her lip to keep from throwing a smart-ass comment
at her goddess.

The Lady of the Lake turned her attention back to the Sentinel.
“Ganga is searching as we speak, but she tastes Trishna’s fright. We fear our
Water is in Jin’s hands. The Amazons will have to go to her because goddesses
cannot interfere. This is the domain of man, of Amazons, not of Ancients. Ganga
believes Trishna is now in danger, so we can no longer keep the four new
warriors apart. Together they are stronger.”

Artair nodded. “’Twas for their safety, to keep the Ancients
from knowing they’d been called. But now the lasses have learned their skills,
and we must harness their combined power.”

“They shall be united soon.” Rhiannon arched an eyebrow. “Are
your warriors ready, Sentinel? Are your Amazons as strong as Johann
Herrmann’s?”

Artair’s gaze caught Rebecca’s. With a steady voice, he
answered his goddess. “They are ready.”

The goddess looked at Rebecca and frowned. “And is their
Sentinel ready? Can he let them be what they were meant to be and not coddle
them like children?”

Rebecca had never seen Artair as angry as he appeared at that
moment. Fists clenched at his side, face flushed, he answered in one slow,
drawn-out word. “Aye.”

Rhiannon gave him a curt nod.

A flash of light appeared, and Rebecca whirled around to see
the appearance of the final Amazon goddess.

Ganga was beautifully exotic—olive-skinned with a coal-black
braid that fell to her knees. Dressed in a teal sari so luminous small bursts of
light played across the fabric, she stepped into the middle of the
gathering.

Her gaze fell first on Rebecca then Megan before she turned to
Sparks. “As I feared, Trishna is in danger. Jin has stripped her of her powers,
I felt them leave her. She is helpless, and I cannot find her.” Ganga placed a
slender hand on Sparks’s shoulder. “Can you sense her?”

“Only a little. I can tell she’s close but…”

Sparks erupted, small bursts like fireworks shooting from her
hair and hands as Ganga jumped back. Two small, brown rabbits hopped over to
settle at Sparks’s feet. The changelings were answering Sparks’s wish.

“Get the van.”

Chapter Thirteen

“We’ve got to find her,” Sparks insisted, pacing in
nervous circles around the sandpit and flicking her Zippo.

Rebecca caught the hazy smell of exploded fireworks drifting
through the air each time Sparks passed her.

“Aye, but we must make careful plans.” Artair glanced at
Rebecca, concern plain in his eyes. “We cannot just rush in.”

He worried about her, unsure of whether she was ready to fight.
Ready or not, she had no choice. An Amazon was in trouble. Innocent girls were
missing.

After the goddesses disappeared in bursts and shimmers of
multi-colored lights, Artair had called the Amazons together. They’d tried to
formulate a plan, but Sparks couldn’t settle down long enough to help.

“I don’t get it.” Sparks slammed the lighter shut and slid it
in her pocket. “I should’ve felt her before now. I should’ve known she was in
danger. Why the lag time? I felt Maria. I felt her die.” She took a deep,
shuddering breath. “She jumped.”

“I beg your pardon?” Rebecca asked.

“The day she died, she jumped before the revenants got to her.
I felt her fall. That’s when she called me to be your Guardian. Maria was
supposed to be the Guardian. She had the patience. Just like you, Rebecca. Maria
was—” Tears glistened in her eyes but never fell from the long lashes. “We had
all gone on with our lives. We’d stopped being Amazons. There wasn’t anyone
around to help her. We thought—we thought it was over. We thought we’d won, that
we’d changed the world. I mean, shit, how much worse could it ever get than
World War II?”

“World War II?” Megan asked, coming to stand by Rebecca’s side.
“What do Amazons have to do with war?”

“Wars bring some Ancients out to play,” Artair answered. “While
humans fight, Ancients can wreak havoc and blame others.”

“People were fighting Hitler,” Sparks added. “The Amazons were
fighting Chernabog.”

“Chernabog?” Rebecca asked. “Is he a demig?”

Artair shook his head. “A god—a powerful god we assumed was
content with his place in the modern world. But, nay. He stirred up trouble,
wanting humanity to worship only him.”

“And you stopped him?”

“Aye. He sought to enslave humanity. The Amazons captured
him.”

Sparks snorted. “You make it sound easy. Shit, the moron was
holed up in Germany. He tried to hide out among the Nazis. American troops were
all over the place, so were the Russians. Getting to Chernabog was harder than
getting to Hitler.”

“But you
did
get to Chernabog,”
Megan said as she tapped her pack of cigarettes against her palm. She plucked
one out and put it in her mouth.

Sparks smiled, pulled her Zippo back out of her pocket and lit
Megan’s cigarette.

“Damn right, we did.” She took a cigarette from the pack Megan
offered, holding it between her fingers like it was already lit. “When we got
him, the patron goddesses punished him by exiling the bastard to Chile.” A weak
smile spread over her face. “He sure wasn’t happy. Remember his new
job,
Celt?”

Artair laughed. “Guarding
camahuetos.
”

Rebecca didn’t get the joke. “
Camahuetos?
”

“One-horned magical bulls. Chernabog is now a cattle herder,”
Artair replied before wrinkling his nose at the cigarette smoke drifting near
his face. “Must you smoke those filthy things?”

Megan defiantly lit Sparks’s cigarette with her thumb.

Feeling Megan’s thrill at being naughty, a giggle popped out of
Rebecca before she could bite her lip. The Sentinel’s responding scowl could
have melted the Ice Age.

Sparks took a long pull on her cigarette, blew the smoke out in
one thin stream and then sighed. “After Chernabog went to Chile and Hitler was
burnt toast, we figured we were safe. How could some demig pull the same stunt
in this day and age? Radio, television, the Internet—everyone knows what’s
happening everywhere in the world. A whole bunch of people disappear or die,
it’s not a secret.” Sparks took another drag on her cigarette and coughed out
most of the smoke. “In the old days, we would’ve covered up a revenant battle
with a hurricane or an earthquake and a touch of Sentinel mind-wiping. You
know—that way people weren’t suspicious of so many dead. Now, you can’t hide
dozens of dead people. CNN would be all over it like ugly on Medusa.”

“Aye,” Artair added. “’Tis the reason the Amazons went back to
live in the world and we sent Avalon to the Atlantic Coast.”

“Avalon moves?” Megan asked.

“Aye, if needs be. ’Tis less noticeable here. Americans accept
odd things. Like Amazons. The goddesses have had their priestesses raise new
generations here as well.”

“There’s another generation after us?” One of her
kindergarteners might just well be the next Earth.

“Aye, but they’re wee bairns. And they may never be called.
More often than not, they never know their destinies. Few of the chosen girls
become Amazons.”

Sparks nodded. “Most get to live boring, normal lives. They’re
not needed. They never get their powers or their extra-long lives.”

“We were wrong that the Amazons were nae longer needed, that
their usefulness had passed into history. But it seems yours won’t be the last
generation.” He turned to Sparks, clearly sharing a memory. “We were wrong.”

She simply nodded again.

“Tell me about Trishna, lass,” Artair said to Sparks, putting a
hand on her shoulder.

“For the last few months—since Maria died—I couldn’t feel the
connection very well. I knew she was alive, but I couldn’t find her.” Sparks
took a deep breath. “But she’s screaming at me now. We’ve got to get to her.
Someone’s trying to hurt her, and she’s afraid.” She glanced over to Rebecca and
Megan. “Trishna’s got balls of steel. I’ve seen her face five revenants at the
same time and laugh about it. If she’s afraid, the bad guy we’re facing is
dangerous.” She turned back to Artair. “We’re going to her, Celt.”

“You cannot just charge in,” Artair said, shaking his head.
“You know that. We need to make careful plans. Do you even know where she
is?”

“She’s close. Probably fifty miles or less. The changelings are
bringing the van. We can just—I don’t know—drive around until I find her.”

Artair rolled his eyes and dropped his hand to his side. “Oh,
aye. That would be a
great
plan. Ye know
better.”

“I suppose you’ve got a better idea, you stubborn Scot?”
Flickers popped from Sparks’s fingertips.

“Tell me what you see,” Rebecca said, reaching out to put a
hand on her mentor’s arm.

Sparks took a long breath and closed her eyes. Her face
scrunched in concentration. “It’s dark, but not completely. Like the inside of a
big building without many windows.”

“Good. What else does she sense?”

She wrinkled her nose. “She smells revenants. They’re close,
but she can’t see them. The stench is overwhelming.”

“What about the building?” Artair asked.

“It’s big,” Sparks continued. “Like a warehouse or something.
And she hears water. She’s trying to draw strength from it, but the water
is…
polluted.
Shit, she’s actually sad the
fucking water’s dirty!”

“Is she alone?” Rebecca asked. “Can you tell who holds her? Is
it Jin?”

“I—I can’t tell. It’s odd. She knows someone’s there, but she
can’t see him or hear him. She just
senses
him.
Someone is watching her. She can feel eyes on her, staring at her.”

“Will we be able to do that with each other?” Megan asked as if
Rebecca could possibly know the answer.

She’d simply been acting on instinct to calm Sparks down and
give her some focus. But, then again, her instincts and intuition had never let
her down. Now Rebecca understood why her Aunt Kay had told her to always trust
her gut. Aunt Kay—
Kaylista
—had been one of
Rhiannon’s priestesses. She was still having some trouble with that idea, but at
least she understood why her aunt had always stressed Rebecca’s strength and
independence.

Before Artair even answered, she knew. The bond was already
there. It had been from when Sparks had first come for her, from when she and
Megan had fought the revenants in Condemned.

“Aye,” Artair answered. “After the four of you bond, you’ll be
able to see through each others’ eyes when need be. Takes practice and time.
Sparks and Trishna have been sisters for more than three score.”

“Yeah, well… We’re way out of practice,” Sparks said. She stood
as stiff as a statue with eyes wide and flashes popping from her hair. “I won’t
lose another sister, Celt. I
won’t.
”

“We’ll go to her aid. We won’t leave her alone to die,” Artair
promised.

* * *

Jersey. It had to be freaking Jersey.

Rebecca had never visited the polluted wasteland of a state
without something bad happening.

There was that time in Atlantic City when she’d been mugged.
That deep-sea tuna fishing adventure had resulted in her being pulled overboard
and almost drowning. And she didn’t even want to think about that horrible bike
trip through Pinelands National Reserve.

Some things were best forgotten.

They stopped on the outskirts of Newark, in some abandoned
industrial park that looked suspiciously like the setting of several horror
movies she’d seen in high school. She swallowed and tried to act like a kick-ass
Amazon.

Megan was almost giddy. Tiny sparks flew from her fingertips,
and, for the first time, the smell of smoke wafted around her—just like Sparks.
Fire and Fire.
Megan’s smoke smelled like the
cherry pipe tobacco Rebecca’s favorite professor liked.

“Settle down, Megan,” she cautioned, trying not to let her
sister’s reckless enthusiasm infect her. “We don’t even know if we’re in the
right place.”

“We are.” Sparks reached into the van to pull up the covering
on the hidden cache of weapons. She grabbed a knife, slid it in a leg sheath,
then retrieved a sword she held up to regard in the inky darkness. “She’s here.
I know it. I can almost smell the revenants.”

Rebecca nodded, not entirely sure Sparks was thinking
straight—especially since she was making plans outside of the van instead of
remaining concealed inside. The woman seemed so agitated she could hardly focus
as she paced around like a lioness in a cage. Her anxiety only fueled Megan’s
volatility. She wished she had some calm to send to her sisters.

Glancing to Artair, she tried to read his expression. His eyes
were locked on Sparks, as though he was having some doubts about this mission.
Were those doubts about Sparks locating Trishna or doubts about sending the new
Amazons into such an unpredictable situation?

The complex was full of empty warehouses, most of which had
several broken windows. Graffiti had been sprawled over the walls. The smell of
oil and sulfur filled the air. The sunlight had gone, and the waning moon
offered little assistance to their plight.

Rebecca shuddered, a chill running the length of her spine. Her
intuition was working overtime, warning her of something she couldn’t quite put
her finger on.

She was about to voice her concern when she realized Artair was
now staring at her, the doubt still plain on his face. Doubt about her.

Megan had pulled out her cell and was punching in more
information to send to Johann. “He’s found some blueprints.”

Artair’s face hardened. He’d suggested that Sparks and Megan
shift to hawks to scout the huge industrial complex, but Megan had turned to
Johann to get the information, insisting technology would save them a
power-draining transmogrification.

“She’s in there, I know it,” Sparks insisted, pointing to the
largest building on Megan’s screen. “I
know
it.”
Sparks turned to Artair. “Are you listening to me, Celt?”

“Aye. I hear you. We
all
hear you.
We’ll nae leave her. I promise.”

Rebecca belted on a scabbard and slid her sword into the
sheath. Then she grabbed a dagger and tucked it in her belt. Was the information
Johann provided one of the reasons Artair was thinking of leaving Avalon? The
Scot had to feel like a dinosaur. She wasn’t sure how old Artair really was, but
Sparks had hinted he’d gone well past the century mark. Knowing people were
ultimately nothing more than creatures of habit, she wondered if Artair would or
even
could
embrace the modern world. How lost would
he feel if he returned to mortality?

He came to stand by his Amazons. His eyes held the weight of
the world. No wonder. Trishna was in trouble. Sparks was growing more frantic
with each passing minute. Megan was too enthusiastic for her own good, ready to
take on a dozen revenants. Rebecca was having a hard time reining in her
fear.

And poor Artair had to lead the ragtag bunch.

Looking over Megan’s shoulder, he pointed to the tiny screen.
“The entrances are here. Sparks, ye take this entrance. Megan, here. Becca will
go with me, here.” After a short pause, he added, “I don’t like this. ’Tis nae
but a big empty cavern. We get in, get Trishna, then get out. Do you all
understand?”

“If there are revenants, can I—”

Artair cut Megan’s words short with a growl. “Ye won’t fight
unless you must. This is a rescue mission, nae a battle.”

“We need Gina. Air can always sense revenants.” Sparks popped a
cigarette in her mouth.

Megan quickly followed suit. Both women lit their nasty habits
with a flick of their thumbs.

“Put those out,” Artair barked.

They begrudgingly dropped their cigarettes to the ground. He
stomped the white sticks into the mud. “No chances, lasses. We all go in—we all
come out. Understood?”

Three women nodded.

Rebecca swallowed the lump forming in her throat, choking off
her air. Her heart beat so rapidly, she got lightheaded. Could they see her
fear? Could her sisters
feel
her fear? She tried to
paste a tough expression on her face.