Page 4 of Capture of Capricorn (The Thirteenth Zodiac #3)

“I hate you.” Zora glared at the sphere that landed her in her shitty situation. It sat there on the metal counter, mocking her with its refusal to cooperate.

Usually, metal spoke to her, showed her what it could become, had her imagining the transformation from mundane to fantastical.

Until now.

The orb didn’t speak to her. On the contrary, it did absolutely nothing but piss her off.

By now, she knew everything about it. A metallic-seeming sphere, slightly smaller than a football.

It weighed eighteen ounces. Measured ten inches long with a diameter of five and a half inches.

That was the extent of her knowledge, and not for lack of trying.

She’d run every single goddamned test she could think of.

Submerged it in water. It sank.

Threw it inside a kiln, applying heat enough to melt even the most stubborn metal. It remained the same temperature. Like, literally, the moment she removed it from the hot oven, she could immediately touch it.

Dunked it in some ice and, heck, even blasted it with liquid nitrogen. It remained consistently seventy degrees Fahrenheit.

Forget scratching the surface. She’d tried every tool known to man and some supplied to her that she’d never even heard of. The smooth sheen remained unmarred.

It emitted no frequency that could be detected. She tried bouncing different ranges off it for shits and giggles. Ended up with shit, not a single giggle—but a lot of cursing.

Acid? Might as well have doused it with water.

Nail polish, paint? Nothing stuck to it.

Zora sighed as she leaned back in her chair.

Another week, another failure. She could only imagine what the asshole would say once he read the report she’d dispatched detailing all she’d attempted—and failed.

A list that kept growing and added to her frustration because it had been made clear to her that she wasn’t leaving her prison until she cracked the mystery.

Yes, prison. Kidnapped and held against her will because she’d greedily held out for more money instead of selling it to the fucker who wanted it.

Zora wished she’d never stopped by that garage sale.

Wished even more that she’d taken the offer from Seeker419 because then she’d be at home puttering happily in her garage instead of being held prisoner in a super lab where she couldn’t escape.

Couldn’t call for help. Couldn’t do fuck all but what Mr. Crius—AKA the asshole who had her kidnapped—ordered, which was to crack the sphere’s—or, as he called it, the relic’s—secret.

By now, she’d run through all kinds of theories as to its origin.

Given its behavior, she’d come to the conclusion it wasn’t of Earthly origin, not something her science-loving butt—large and round from a diet of lattes and chocolate treats—would usually even contemplate.

Zora did not believe in aliens. However, what other explanation could there be?

Nothing affected it, and yet something obviously managed to shape it.

No way it originated in nature to be so perfectly smooth and symmetrical.

Then there was the fact its physical properties didn’t match any of the known elements.

Could it be some hybrid alloy no one knew about?

Possible, but given how every single attempt to examine it more deeply failed, she doubted it.

At least it didn’t appear to be dangerous.

She remained healthy, if a few pounds lighter, given the lack of snacks and her well-balanced meals.

Would it kill them to give her a greasy burger and fries?

Sigh. For some reason, she thought of the moment she first woke there.

Lying on a thin foam mat, in a depressing concrete room that measured eight of her giant feet by eight.

When Seeker419 had taunted her about the fact she’d not accepted his offer, she’d pounded on the locked door and had a complete and utter meltdown using language that no lady should ever utter.

“Listen up, motherfucker, you’d better let me out of this room or you will regret it when I shove my foot up your ass!’

Mama always said violence wasn’t the answer, but then again, Mama never dealt with Larry Finch at school.

That boy was constantly teasing Zora, calling her names, yanking on her braids, until she turned around and decked him.

Knocked out his two front teeth, gave him a black eye, and a healthy respect for girls who said no.

Problem with being good with her fists? She needed someone to use them on. Luckily, she’d gotten her chance a few hours after waking—pacing, worrying, cursing.

The door had opened, and Zora didn’t hesitate to act as someone entered. She launched herself and tackled, only to be promptly tasered into a quivering jelly mass that pissed herself on the floor.

Not one of her finer moments, and it resulted in punishment.

She spent the next few days alone. Didn’t see or hear a soul.

Her food came via a slot in the door that opened at the same interval each day.

No books, no television, not even a deck of cards meant by day three, when the intercom crackled, she was ready to beg.

“Hello, Zora. Now that you’ve had time to reflect on your situation, are you prepared to listen and be rational?”

Nope. She instantly began to boil. “Listen to what? Your justification for kidnapping and locking me up?”

“That was not part of my initial plan. I simply wanted the artifact. I am curious. What motivated you to purchase it?”

“I’m a metalsmith and metallurgist. Weird shit like that interests me.”

“Have you run any tests?”

“With what? My home doesn’t have a lab, and the one I work at would fire my ass if I used their equipment for personal research.”

“What if you had access to a state-of-the-art laboratory where you could test to your heart’s content?”

“Is this some kind of fucked-up job interview, because I’m not interested.”

“Are you sure about that?” the voice queried.

“What’s in it for me?” Because her mama didn’t raise a dumb chick. If this person wanted to negotiate, then maybe she could bargain for her freedom.

“You get to keep your life.”

For some reason, the icy proposal didn’t have her telling him to fuck off, mostly because, in that moment, with a certainty of ninety-eight percent, she believed him.

He continued on as if he hadn’t threatened to kill her.

“When you first saw the relic, did you feel a connection to it?”

“What the fuck are you smoking? It’s just a metal ball.”

“Just?” he’d mocked. “We both know it’s much more than that.”

“Listen, you crazy fucker, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not interested. Let me out!”

“Only once you’ve cracked its secrets.”

A reply she’d not reacted well to; however, in the end, she had no choice. And so Zora ended up studying the sphere in the most modern lab she’d ever seen. Not that the fancy equipment helped. She’d yet to figure out what made the metal hunk special.

By her count, she’d been here two weeks. Two weeks of being forced to work for free for an asshole.

Zora spun in her chair, hoping for inspiration, and almost fell on the floor as the phone bolted to the wall—the old-fashioned kind with a handset attached to a cord and a plastic circle with numbers for dialing—rang. It had taken her aback the first time she saw it.

“What the fuck is this retro shit?” she’d asked when Mr. Crius, AKA Seeker419, had first given a tour of the lab—with her hands bound so she couldn’t damage his smug face.

“Given the delicate nature of our work, we are very stringent about technology. Hence why cellphones are left at reception and placed in a Faraday box to block signals, and none of our computers can access the internet. All communication is done in person or via our internal phone system.” Internal, as in no outside dialing.

As Crius gave her the tour, he detailed her new reality.

“Do not think of trying to escape. You won’t get far.

Nor should you bother asking for help. Everyone here is loyal to the company.

And before you think you can somehow smuggle a message out, all employees are subjected to a thorough search before leaving the facility. Any questions?”

“When can I leave?”

“As mentioned before, when you solve the mystery of the relic.”

“Why me?” She hated that she sounded whiny.

“Because our last metallurgist had to be let go, and rather than interview someone new, why not conscript the person who found the relic we’ve been seeking? How fortuitous that you happened to blithely post about it.”

“As if you’d have actually paid me,” her sour reply.

“Initially, I’d planned to, but once I realized you specialized in metal, why not kill two birds with one stone?”

“Surely you can find someone higher up in my field.”

“Why bother when I have you?” He then went on to detail the tests he wanted run with the threat of, “And don’t think you can lie about the results. I’ll be watching, and any attempt to obfuscate will be punished.”

As were apparently any tantrums and random acts of rebellion, like holding up the flame from a torch against the sprinkler head, hoping to cause an emergency that would unlock the electronically controlled door.

It failed, and she got a taste of what Crius meant when he said cooperate or else. The laxative in her next meal had her curled in the fetal position for hours.