Check out Bloody Chapter One to begin the exciting tenth adventure in the Arca superhero urban fantasy series by Karen Diem! Learn what happens when a sedate trip to the park goes wrong… superhero style!
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Bloody Chapter One
Even supervillains would not stand between her and snacks this time.
She hoped.
The tantalizing aroma of roasted nuts and chocolate left a trail that was nearly visible even in her natural human form.
Zita Garcia grinned and veered from the path to follow it. After bouncing off a tree trunk and vaulting a fallen log, she glanced toward her companion. She was still getting used to seeing Freelance—no, Jack—without the armor and mask he wore when he moonlighted as a mercenary.
Keeping pace with her, he ran on a parallel course, his movements economical but as graceful as a stalking panther. As he leapt over a rock, his clothing pulled enough against his muscles to outline his magnificent body, that ideal balance of strength, dexterity, and stamina.
She licked her lips.
A corner of his mouth twitched upward when he caught her gaze.
She realized she had slowed to study him and cartwheeled over a rock, speeding back up when she landed.
Around them, shafts of sunlight broke through the trees, and she caught glimpses of sidewalk winding through the little urban forest. The occasional jogger, dog walker, tourist, or necking couple were a reminder that they were not alone, in case she overlooked the looming shadows of nearby skyscrapers and the distant sounds of street noise for a second.
Another sniff had her correcting their course. Calling out, she said, “You want some nuts? They smell amazing, though they must be almost out since their scent isn’t as strong as I’d expect. I’ll share with you if you’re not up for your own bag.”
Jack shook his head. He kept pace with her, pulling his bottle of water off his belt and taking a drink. “Early dinner,” he reminded her.
Sobering for a moment, Zita lowered her voice and said, “This is to tide me over just in case… lately, something has got to be in the water the way people are losing their minds and doing crime every other minute. I mean, I appreciate them waiting until tax season ended, but it’s like they finished their returns and immediately went to go break as many laws as possible. I heard the African team even had to take on a new guy, Colonel Laser, to help them deal with the increase there. Are you sure you don’t want any nuts? I don’t mind sharing.”
He nodded.
A warm breeze swirled the aroma of roasted nuts around her and she grinned. “Fine, you wait for mealtime like a responsible adult. I’m going to snack, assuming New York doesn’t charge crazy for its nuts these days.”
His lips curled slightly and then returned to a flat line. As usual, he used as few words as possible in his question. “Why never near your home?”
She almost tripped, but recovered. “Why what?”
“Us,” he said.
“Oye. Pues. Porque mi familia… Because of my brothers. I don’t want them to meet you, plus it’s easier for me to travel than you,” she said.
Zita caught a flash of bright colors and a boxy shape through the trees, and the tantalizing scent of nuts and now chocolate teased at her nose. She hurried in that direction. “Let’s go!”
When she noticed he had stopped following her, she realized what she had said and froze in place. “Caramba. I didn’t mean… It’s not you, it’s all them. Seriously.”
She searched for a way to explain it. “Once you meet them, it won’t be just you and me. It’ll be me, you, and them. I’m not ashamed of you or them; it’s that once my family gets involved, things get…”
“Complicated?” he said, walking to her side.
She nodded and squeezed his arm, letting her hand linger on his bicep. “More complicated. They’re a lot. My family’s kind of all-or-nothing. Once you meet my brothers, the background checks and the questions start, condoms pop up in unexpected places, and we have to plan a cross-country trip to introduce you to Mamá. My brother Miguel has been trying to get me to text him pictures of your driver’s license so he can look you up. Also, I’m selfish. I run off on you far too much as it is, and I didn’t want to give up our time together to share it with them, too. We good? If you want to deal with all that drama, let me know, and we can take our chances closer to my place next time. I promise.”
“Fair. Snack?” He nodded toward the path.
She glanced that way, a smile spreading across her face. “You know it.”
A middle-aged man shoved a lemon-yellow cart briskly over the sidewalk, the colorful umbrella jolting overhead and advertising nuts. White bags lined the interior of a glassed-in area, with a large center pan empty in another section. Despite the mild temperature and the motor humming in his cart, the vendor was sweating profusely.
Another customer coming from the opposite direction intercepted the cart first, clutching a huge mug with a straw in a death grip. He gestured to the vendor to halt, standing in his way.
The cart stopped, and they exchanged words.
Zita assessed the competition as she burst out of the bushes and vaulted over a bench. Regular gym goer, but probably lifts for looks. The way he’s wincing in the sunlight despite those enormous sunglasses and the baseball cap covering his face… still recovering from a boozy night? Hopefully, Hungover Guy won’t eat whatever is left.
Jack jogged beside her, going around obstacles instead.
As they got closer, Hungover Guy raised a hand to shield his face, sunlight flashing off the titanium straw in his mug. “No pictures!”
“Whatever. You got the spicy pecans?” Zita raced past him, focused on the vendor.
Up close, the disappointing lack of visible food was worse. A tinny radio rattled out a news report as the vendor huffed and folded his arms over his chest. “Lady, I got nothin’ to sell. I still got most of my chocolate and raisins, but there ain’t a food inspector in this country that’d let me sell them after those rodents pawed through my cart. They stole almost every nut I had, and what’s left isn’t usable.”
Zita froze, an ugly suspicion rising. “Rodents?”
As he came up behind her, Jack touched her arm.
The vendor flexed his sturdy shoulders and shook his head. “Never mind. You’ll think I’m crazy, like the park cop did. Never around when you need them, and when you try to report a crime, they laugh at you. What are our tax dollars for? Anyway, I won’t be back here for at least a few days while I get my cart back up to health code standards. If ever.”
“Health inspectors can be a bitch. You said rodents… was it a bunch of squirrels, maybe directed by a dude who looked like he’d been living in the woods for a while? You know, like Hungover Guy here, but with less manicured hands. Might have some sticks in the homicidal lumberjack beard?” Zita waved at the customer who had turned to depart.
“Hey! Don’t you know who I am?” Hungover Guy’s face twisted as if he were torn between amusement and insult.
The vendor glanced at the man in question and then assessed her. “As a matter of fact, I never saw nobody. Heard plenty, though. Guy never stopped talking. What, you know who did it? He rob you, too? I should’ve known that Phil offering to switch his route here for mine was too good to be true, especially after I saw how few other carts were here.”
She snorted and lied, “I don’t know for certain, but the news had something on it and he stuck out because of the squirrel thing, you know? I thought he was in the boonies, not here though.”
“Everyone comes to New York eventually if they’re smart. Yeah, I’ve been shaken down before, but never with squirrels and an invisible guy yakking my ears off, so this one’s going to stick. I’m hoping he’s here on business and moves on soon,” the vendor said.
Her brain sputtered, stuck on an image of the Squirrel King, pointing to a graph with a little laser pointer while squirrels gnawed on notepads around a conference table. Every animal wore a tiny tie. Zita pushed away the visual and said, “Why would you assume he’s here on business?”
“Are you deaf? I just said he talked the whole time those tree rats were ransacking my cart. The fucker alternated between gloating that he’d found something worth bothering with, even better than some cheese joint he’d been drowning his sorrows in, and whining about being behind somebody’s schedule.”
“Schedule?” She wondered if the vendor was angrier about someone else doing all the talking than about the actual robbery.
He nodded. “Yeah, something about poisonous, decrepit papers of no real worth and getting shiny stuff to get his queen to come back to him. I got to tell you, if that whack job had a woman, she had to be in it for his cash.”
Zita blinked. “Because feeding all the squirrels is expensive?”
“No, because a few of the animals had little backpacks with high-end electronics. Custom leather, with lining and sized to fit a freaking squirrel, carrying cameras and some kind of speaker for him to complain through. If you entrust that kind of custom stuff to a rodent, you’re rolling in it. I got an eye for money. You’re not dressed like it, but these two both are,” the cart vendor said, thumbing at Jack and Hungover Guy, who was watching with a fascinated look.
She assessed herself. An ancient, too-big t-shirt advertising a defunct zipline fell to her midthighs, hiding her purple sports bra and bicycle shorts, the warm-weather version of her vigilante costume. It was sweaty but otherwise clean, and her cheap canvas shoes were new enough to still be mostly white. Rubbing a hand back and forth through the short, choppy hair she had cut herself, Zita glanced at Jack.
His black and gray athletic wear had a discreet logo on one shoulder, and fitted close enough to his impressive body to suggest his muscles without appearing painted on. Given the long sleeves, the humid May heat, and the lack of sweat stains, it had to be moisture-wicking. Jack’s sneakers and sunglasses had a sleek finish that her dollar-store versions lacked. As the short strands of his hair fell perfectly in place despite their free-running, she assumed he’d had it professionally cut.
Hungover Guy’s wealth was easier to see. In addition to a phone and a fancy watch, everything he wore was festooned with logos and useless pockets that would lose anything put in them at the slightest exertion.
“I see what you mean,” Zita said. “Did the chatty weirdo say anything else about his plans? Is it safe to stay in the park?”
“Just what I already said, and I’m not sticking around to find out.” The vendor resumed moving.
Hungover Guy glanced at them, then began a slow walk away.
“Guess I’ll find a snack elsewhere. Good luck, buddy!” Zita made a show of checking her phone. Squirrel King couldn’t wait a couple of hours until after our date?
Sirens wailed from elsewhere in the park.
With a muttered Spanish expletive, Zita darted back to the cover of the trees they had been free-running through. Hopefully, the cops can handle whatever that is, but knowing the stupid Squirrel King is around…
Jack’s sigh was audible at her side.
As soon as they were out of earshot and eyesight of the closest pedestrians, she stopped behind a tree. She rubbed her forehead. Keeping her voice low, she said, “The Squirrel King prefers to grandstand in person, and he can’t be too far away unless he’s got a lot longer range than I think. Far too many people are wandering around here to risk him deciding they deserve a gruesome death by squirrel. If I can find him, he’ll focus on me and everyone else can escape.”
Jack tilted his head.
The sirens cut off.
She shrugged and pulled a plastic bag from her pocket. “He thinks I’m his nemesis or something? It works to keep him from hurting others, so at least it’s convenient. I just have to figure out where to look for him.”
“Canvases. Jewelry. Art museum.” At her blank look, Jack clarified, “Statues outside. Passed earlier.”
She shook her head, stripping off her t-shirt and stepping out of her shoes. “Not remembering it.”
After a pause, he said, “Inedible hot dogs.”
That she remembered. The cart hadn’t smelled safe to stop at. She folded her shirt, stuffed that and her shoes into the bag, and held it out to him. “Oye, I know where that is! Thanks! Would you hang onto these for me? I’ll try to meet you at the restaurant later if I can.”
He inclined his head and tucked her things into a small backpack he had not had a moment before.
Warmth touched her mind as party line, a telepathic link between Zita and her two best friends, formed. Hey, guys!
Something bad’s happening at a Native American history museum on the DC Mall. Andy and I are en route. Can you get here? Wyn sent. Her best friend’s words felt harried.
Zita touched a hand to her ear, her usual ploy to hide her friend’s telepathy from her too-observant companion. She spoke both aloud and mentally so Jack would understand her distraction. “Museum robbery in DC? I got one here in New York. Squirrel King is back from Thailand, I guess, and playing with electronics. Are you sure you need me?”
Over their mental link, Andy sighed. Ugh. The police might shoot him, but they’ll have to get through a squirrel army unless they’re lucky. Not to mention that it’d be dangerous with so many people around, so you better check if they need help. As far as we know, it’s just ambitious thugs with guns here. The cops might get them in hand without us if we’re lucky. You go do your thing, and we’ll join you once the DC robbery is under control.
“Right, I’ll handle things here and check when things are clear to see if you still need me or if I can go back to what I was doing. If you finish up first, let me know when you’re done and I’ll update the status here.” Over party line, she said the same thing and added, I’ll text that the party’s over to your personal phones when I’m done. Hit me back when you can so I know if I’m joining you or finishing my date.
A wave of agreement came from Wyn, and then the connection broke.
Jack gave her a questioning look.
With a brief prayer that the lack of gunfire was a good sign, Zita grimaced and ran a hand over her short, uneven hair, back and forth. “Sorry, I need to see if the cops got it covered. We’ll see what this means for our plans. I’ll text. If I don’t see you before then, have a safe flight.”
He nodded, already swiping something on his phone. “Backup?”
“I’ll be okay. Squirrel King usually tries to skewer me himself instead of setting his rodents on me. It’s never been too hard to avoid him before, but worst comes to worst, I’ll go gargoyle.” Zita hugged Jack, taking a second to breathe in his enticing scent of woods, spicy gun oil, and man before she pulled back.
Gunfire came from the direction of the sirens.
“If you seriously want to deal with my family, say the word and we’ll do something closer to my place.” She pressed a brief kiss to his shoulder, glanced around, and plunged deeper into the bushes.
Once she was certain there were no witnesses or cameras to see her, she dug her mask out of her pocket and slapped it on.
She shifted to a raven and burst out of the underbrush, winging her way upward. Below her, she could see Jack slipping through the woods like a shadow in the opposite direction.
Curious about what nutty events are in motion this time and what happens next? Now that you’ve finished Bloody Chapter One, squirrel away your copy now!