Herculean (Cerberus Group Book 1) (26 page)

She moved to the next door and the next, but found only more of the same. But the doorway at the end of the tunnel was different—wider, like the entrance, and covered with something that might have been an actual door, though it was hard to tell in the darkness. Gallo extended a hand to probe the dark barrier, and felt her fingers sink into something the consistency of peat moss. She yanked her hand back, but her touch was enough to collapse the rotted wood. As the damp pungent pulp fell away, dim light filled the hallway.

Gallo looked through the newly created hole and out into a vast plaza, surrounded by buildings like the one in which she now stood. In the courtyard, a series of stone terraces descended to a wide canal that surrounded an elevated mound, upon which had been built a structure that rose up higher than any of the other buildings in the city. The building was rectangular, with a gently sloping roof and decorative pediment held aloft by tall columns—the classic design of a Greek temple.

Gallo could only imagine what the courtyard and the temple might have looked like in the days of Queen Hippolyte and her Amazons. She wondered if the ancient Alexander Diotrephes, posing as Herakles, had stood where she now did.
Was he the cause of the culture’s downfall? Did seizing the Queen’s belt with its map of the world, the key to the Amazons’ power, undo them all?

Whether or not that part was true, their society had survived, in some form, at least long enough for Orellana and Carvajal to have their encounter with the fierce warrior women for whom the river was named. The advance of European conquerors, with their guns and germs, had dealt the final death blow. There was only a memory of the city’s former glory now. Nature had reclaimed much of it. The terraces were thick with vegetation, and cypress trees had taken root in the canal.

“We need to get to that temple,” Gallo said. “If we’re going to find anything, it will be there.”

Dourado did not question this assessment. “Can you make it?”

“I have to.” She took a breath then faced the other woman. “Thanks for trying to help me. I didn’t get a chance to say it before. I was really surprised to see you.”

“I’m sorry. I thought I could… If I had known this would happen...”

Gallo took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Dourado returned the squeeze with a wan smile. “I guess I am, too.”

“Ready?”

Dourado nodded and together they began tearing away the rotted planks until the hole was big enough for both of them to walk through. Gallo leaned against Dourado every time she had to put weight on her injured leg, but the pain had finally subsided to a dull ache. She suspected that the quills had not penetrated very deeply and that the discomfort and inflammation was merely her body’s way of telling her to pull them out, but that would have to wait until she was ready to deal with the wounds. Right now, the quills were acting as stoppers, minimizing the flow of blood.

As they moved out into the open, a rustling sound came from above them. Gallo looked up and saw hundreds of white bird heads looking down at them. The creatures were everywhere, perched along the edge of the rooftops that ringed the plaza. Many of them stood with their wings fully extended, plumage puffed up in a display of ferocity. Dourado started to turn back, probably intending to bolt for the refuge of the building they had just exited, but Gallo held her back.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t move.”

“But…”

“They haven’t attacked. I don’t know why. Maybe they don’t like how closed in the courtyard is. Just keep moving, slowly.”

She demonstrated, moving with exaggerated slowness, like a living-statue street performer. The birds continued posturing, but none of them took flight.

By the time they reached stairs descending to the next terrace, Gallo was certain that the birds were not going to attack, though she could not fathom what was keeping them at bay. She sped up to a normal walking pace—or as close to it as her wounded leg would allow—though she carefully avoided any sudden moves.

Each successive terrace took them further from the birds and closer to their destination: a bridge that spanned the canal and ended at a passage leading into the central temple mound. The canal was murky, thick with plants and trees, but not completely self-contained. A single channel led away, dividing the terraces before disappearing into the mouth of a large opening in the city’s foundation, a channel connecting the canal to shallow marshlands outside the city on the opposite side of their original approach.

Now that they were in the homestretch, Gallo gave up on stealth, hobbling across the bridge as fast as she could manage. The passage beyond was dark, but she could make out the base of a staircase spiraling up a central passage, and once inside, she could see daylight filtering down from above.

“Augustina!”

The shout sent a fresh wave of panic through her, partly because it might be enough to upset the balance and bring the birds down on them, and partly because of who the voice belonged to. She glanced back and saw that there could be no retreat. Kenner was approaching the bridge, and he was not alone. Rohn was with him, along with two other Cerberus men. They had not come through the attack unscathed. All four men were bloody from head to toe, clothing sliced to unrecognizable tatters, their bodies bristling with quills. Kenner was faltering, but Rohn and the others stalked forward like relentless automatons.

Kenner stretched out a hand. “Augustina. Wait.”

She turned to Dourado. “Go!”

They plunged into the dark stairwell, Dourado running and Gallo shuffling along as best she could. Behind them, Rohn charged, reaching the bridge and sprinting across it. Gallo bounded blindly up the stairs, two at a time. The light beckoned to her, but before she could reach the top, a hand clamped down on her biceps and pulled her off her feet. She didn’t fall. Instead, Rohn dragged her along until, at the topmost step he caught Dourado, too.

He took a few more steps then hurled both women forward. Gallo cried out as the impact with the moss-covered stone drove some of the quills deeper into her leg, but fear of what Rohn would do next compelled her to keep moving. She stumbled and fell to her knees, but kept crawling.

As she beheld the interior of the temple, dimly illuminated by daylight seeping in from beyond the colonnade, the fight nearly went out of her. There was nothing particularly glorious about the sacred building. It was as overgrown and dilapidated as the rest of the city, but Gallo saw past the decay and neglect, imagining the place as it might have been three thousand years earlier.

Directly ahead, occupying the center of the sanctuary, stood a colossal statue of a warrior. Like everything else, the old stone was weathered and overgrown, but the image was unmistakably that of a muscular man wearing battle armor and a helmet. A round shield covered his left arm. In his right, poised for a throw, was a long spear.

It was Ares, the god of war.

A Greek temple to Ares in the Amazon. At least I lived long enough to see this
, she thought.

“Stop,” Kenner shouted. “Vigor, what are you doing?”

Gallo looked back and saw Rohn stalking toward her, a long double-edged knife, like a dagger, clenched in one hand.

“Leave her alone,” Kenner said. He sounded weak and ineffectual, begging more than demanding. “You’re not supposed to kill her.”

Rohn wasn’t listening. He advanced, moving faster than Gallo could crawl. There was nowhere to go. She heard his footsteps, felt his hand seize hold of her once more, saw the blade rise…

“Let her go!”

The voice was strained, but so filled with authority and passion that, even if Gallo had not recognized it, she would have known that it was not Kenner.

A lone figure stepped out from behind the statue of Ares. The man was as bloody and bedraggled as the Cerberus men, but Gallo recognized him immediately.

“You made a classic mistake,” George Pierce said, aiming his machine pistol at Rohn. “You brought a knife to a gunfight.”

40

Rohn moved faster than Pierce would have thought possible, but he did not attack. Instead, he ran. The retreat was so unexpected that Pierce didn’t have time to pull the trigger.

He had been prepared to shoot. The MP5K was equipped with an Aimpoint holographic reflex scope. Lazarus had assured him that the rounds would go right where the red dot pointed, so there was little risk of accidentally hitting Gallo or Dourado, but keeping that red dot on a fast moving target wasn’t easy.

Rohn vanished, disappearing into the stairwell.

Kenner seemed as stunned by the big man’s flight as Pierce was, but the other two Cerberus men made a desperate rush at Pierce.

This time, there was no hesitation. Pierce jerked the gun toward the nearest man and pulled the trigger. There was hardly any recoil, and the suppressor muffled the report so effectively that, for a fleeting instant, Pierce thought the gun had malfunctioned. It had not. The first Cerberus man went down, stumbling and skidding across the floor until both his momentum and his life ran out.

Pierce brought the gun around to the second man, who after witnessing his comrade’s fate, was already trying to veer off. Pierce squeezed the trigger, but the bullets sizzled past their intended target, smashing into the stone walls of the temple. The man twisted around and dove to the ground, right behind Dourado.

Pierce yanked his finger out of the trigger guard and raised the muzzle, but he leveled it again as the Cerberus man dragged Dourado to her feet, holding her between himself and Pierce as a human shield.

“Let her go,” Pierce said. He trained the red dot on the man’s head, or rather the fraction of it that was not hidden behind Dourado’s cobalt hair. Lazarus probably would have taken the shot, but Pierce didn’t want to risk Dourado’s life. The man hunched lower, removing even that slim opportunity, and he began backing toward the stairs. Pierce started forward, but the man slid an arm around her neck, none-too-subtly signaling what would happen if he came any closer. Pierce kept the red dot aimed at a spot just over Dourado’s shoulder, determined to pull the trigger if the man revealed even an inch of himself. At the edge of the scope, he could see Dourado staring back at him, her eyes bulging from the pressure at her throat.

Then, all of sudden, she wasn’t there anymore.

The Cerberus man, now fully exposed, gaped in disbelief as his hostage squirmed away. Pierce fired, wiping the shocked look from the man’s face, along with most of his other distinguishing features. The man toppled backward, disappearing into the stairwell, but Pierce just stood where he was, the gun still pointed at the empty spot where the Cerberus man had been, the red dot aimed at nothing but the smoke drifting up from the end of the suppressor.

“George?”

He engaged the gun’s safety and lowered it before turning to meet Gallo’s wide gaze.

“You…” Her eyes dropped to the dead man on the floor. “You killed them?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

She limped toward him and then threw both arms around him, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

Relief washed away any emotional turmoil. Gallo was safe. Dourado, too. He returned the embrace, savoring the reunion as long as he dared. “Augustina, where’s Fi?”

“Fi?” Gallo drew back, her expression instantly changing to a look of horror. She pointed at Kenner, who still stood dumbfounded, just a few steps away from the stairwell. “He said they killed her.”

Pierce’s joy turned to sand. He rounded on Kenner, bringing his gun up, fully intending to put a bullet between the man’s eyes. Kenner, sensing what was about to happen, let out a wail of protest and dropped to his knees, hands raised in a show of surrender.

“Don’t kill me,” he shrieked. “Please. I didn’t do anything.”

The pathetic display was just enough to dull the edge of Pierce’s resolve, but it did not prevent him from moving closer and aiming the weapon at the back of Kenner’s head. “Where is she? Where’s Fiona?”

“I don’t know. Tyndareus has her.”

“Where?” Pierce jammed the muzzle hard against Kenner’s neck. There was a hiss as the hot suppressor scorched exposed skin, leaving a ring-shaped brand, and Kenner let out a yelp.

“I don’t…” He broke off, as if realizing that professing ignorance was a poor position from which to negotiate for his life. “Don’t kill me. I’ll help you.”

“Is she still alive?”

Kenner swallowed. “Honestly, I don’t know. Tyndareus is a monster, but he might have kept her alive for leverage against Augustina.”

Pierce swept the muzzle of the weapon across the back of Kenner’s head. Kenner pitched forward, squealing in pain. “You don’t get to say her name,” Pierce growled.

“No! Please. I’m sorry.” Kenner was weeping now. “Don’t kill me.”

Pierce took a breath and counted to ten, then kept counting until the urge to pull the trigger finally abated. “Get up.” He turned his head until he could see Gallo and Dourado in his peripheral vision. “We’re getting out of here.”

He felt Gallo’s hand on his arm. “George. Do you know what this place is?”

Kenner raised his head, adding to Gallo’s words with the desperation of a man trying to be useful. “Herakles was here. He took the map from Queen Hippolyte. He learned the location of the entrance to the Underworld from her.”

“Map?” Pierce asked.

“George, the Amazons
were
the Sea Peoples,” Gallo said. “They lived right here, in this city. And Queen Hippolyte’s belt had a map of the entire world. That was the key to their power.”

Pierce frowned. “Where’s the map, now? Do you have it?”

Kenner hesitated a moment, but then nodded. “In my satchel.”

Gallo hobbled forward and knelt beside Kenner. She rooted in his bag and then held up the object Kenner had taken from the Labyrinth. Pierce glanced at it, noting the images inscribed upon it.

“We used it to find this place,” Gallo said. “Fiona figured it out.”

“We?” Pierce regretted the implicit accusation as soon as he said it. “It doesn’t matter. We’re leaving.”

“Tyndareus wants to find the source,” Kenner insisted. “He’s desperate to find it. If the girl is still alive, he’ll trade that information for her. I know he will.”

“We’ll see about that.” Pierce took a step away from Kenner and turned to Gallo. Only now did he see the line of quills that stitched the back of her leg. “Are you all right? Can you walk?”

“I made it this far.” She managed a smile, but then her expression darkened. “What about the birds? How are we going to get past them?”

Pierce hauled Kenner to his feet and propelled him toward the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I brought friends.”