Page 46 of Zinnia and the Zombie
He crossed to her in two strides, cradling her face between his hands. The soft warmth of her skin against his palms centered him.
“I won’t,” he promised, his voice low and fierce. “Not with you here. Your presence, your voice—they called to me even in the deepest stasis. You will always have the power to bring me back.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded, covering his hands with her own. “I trust you.”
He bent to kiss her, pouring everything he couldn’t say into the contact. The fierce protectiveness, the devotion, the promise of a future. When he pulled back, she nodded fiercely, even though her face was still pale.
“You should hide until it’s over,” he said, though he already knew her answer.
“Not a chance.” Her chin lifted. “What do you need me to do?”
“Stay out of sight, but where you can see me. If something goes wrong—if I don’t emerge from stasis quickly enough—call to me.”
She nodded. “I’ll be on the roof. I can see the whole plaza from there.”
“Good.” He touched her face one last time, memorizing the feel of her skin. “It’s time.”
The walk to the plaza stretched longer than it should have. Each step took him further from Zinnia and closer to a confrontation he couldn’t be certain of winning. But the alternative—continuing to run, waiting for the Grorn to find them unprepared—was unacceptable.
He positioned himself in the center of the plaza, near the fountains where the morning sun would catch his golden skin. The Grorn would be drawn to the display, to the prize they sought. He took a deep breath, centering himself.
To enter stasis willingly required absolute focus. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, directing his awareness inward. The living gold of his skin cooled, hardened, the soft suppleness transforming into metallic rigidity.
His consciousness didn’t vanish but expanded, becoming diffuse, aware of energy signatures rather than physical sensations. He could detect Zinnia’s familiar warmth on the roof above, a beacon calling to him. And approaching—two larger signatures, filled with fanatical purpose. The Grorn.
He waited, suspended between being and non-being, vulnerable and yet poised to strike.
Something shifted in his awareness. Zinnia’s energy signature had moved—she wasn’t on the roof anymore, but below, closer to the plaza. Alarm rippled through him, threatening to disrupt his stasis. She was placing herself in danger, hiding among the bushes at the edge of the plaza where the Grorn would enter.
Before he could emerge from stasis to stop her, the Grorn appeared.
Zinnia hidbehind one of the half-fallen columns at the edge of the plaza, her heart hammering against her ribs. She’d watched Jaxx transform before her eyes, the living gold of his skin becoming burnished metal once again. His chest no longer rose and fell. His eyes—those expressive amethyst eyes that looked at her with such tenderness—were closed once more.
Even though she’d known what he planned to do and had agreed it was their best chance, watching him return to that dormant state made her heart clench painfully. The thought of him trapped in that golden prison again, even temporarily, was almost unbearable. What if he couldn’t return? What if the Grorn damaged him beyond repair?
No. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Unable to remain on the roof any longer, she’d picked up the last remaining net and hurried down to conceal herself amongst the debris. Her fingers curled around the woven net she’d created, the tough vines biting into her palms, then crept from her hiding place, keeping low to the ground as she circled around to a better position. The massive fountain in the center of the plaza gurgled quietly, masking the soft sounds of her movement. A tangle of vines provided perfect cover as she watched the entrance to the plaza.
Her heart raced even more as the two Grorn entered. They were even more terrifying up close than they had appeared through the binoculars. Huge, lumbering creatures with thick, gray-scaled hides that looked like living armor. Their limbs were massive, ending in clawed hands that could easily crush a human skull. But it was their eyes that chilled her blood—solid black, unblinking orbs that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.
The priest moved with ponderous purpose, only the totem he carried identifying him as the leader. Behind him, his acolyte carried what Jaxx had told her was a containment field generator—a high-tech cage meant for him.
They entered the plaza cautiously, weapons drawn, searching for threats. Then the leader spotted Jaxx. A sound somewhere between a hiss and a groan escaped him, and he raised his clawed hands toward the sky in what appeared to be a gesture of religious ecstasy.
“The Golden Key has revealed itself to us. Praise be to the Ancient Ones.”
The acolyte answered with a fervent, “Praise be.”
The priest cautiously approached, using his totem to scan for traps or defenses. Finding none, his confidence grew.
“It is as the prophecy foretold,” the priest said, moving closer to Jaxx. “The skin of living gold, the vessel that will open the Vault of the Ancients.” He circled Jaxx, studying him from every angle. “This one has been damaged. See how the light has faded from it? No matter. The essence remains.”
The acolyte remained a short distance away. “Shall I secure it, Honored One?”
“Yes. The ship prepares for our return journey. The Serpent’s Maw awaits its key. But first we must give praise. Prostrate yourself.”
“Yes, Honored One.”
