Aphrodite's Secret (13 page)

“I’ll try to explain,” Hieronymous continued. “Hopefully you can follow, and visual aides won’t be necessary.”

Mordi bit the inside of his cheek, reminding himself to keep his mouth shut.

“As you of all people know, halflings present certain unique traits,” the Outcast leader said. “Most are disagreeable, but some are potentially useful—as in the case of our young friend.”

Mordi shifted, stifling the urge to tell his father to quit blowing smoke and get on with the story.

“As a halfling, Davy’s brain waves will alter at midnight on his seventh birthday, just a few short days away. I intend to tap into the boy’s conscious at precisely that moment, allowing me to drain his Protector-enhanced intellect right from his head.”

His father must have seen the grimace that crossed Mordi’s face, because he nodded. “Yes, it is a rather nasty business when one thinks about it closely.” A thin smile graced his lips. “I, of course, never do.”

Hieronymous stood up and strode across the room, his gait full of purpose, as always. “Instead, I focus on my goal. With this plan, I shall become the most brilliant person—Protector or mortal—on the planet. And with my enhanced intellectual ability, I will finally be able to invent a method of, once and for all, reducing all mortals to slaves and disbanding that silly Council.” He turned. “At the moment, I’m partial to a particle beam, but once my already superior intellect joins forces with Davy’s untapped potential, I will undoubtedly come up with an even more clever approach.”

Mordi swallowed. Whatever method Hieronymous devised, the end result would be the same: The mortals would be enslaved, the Outcasts would rise up against the Council, and Hieronymous would proclaim himself the leader of all—and who would dare challenge him?

“All it took was finding the right child,” Hieronymous admitted. “A halfling with an intellect right to complement mine.”

Mordi took a deep breath and counted to ten before answering. “And Davy is that child?”

“He is. The boy’s a regular little Einstein, and his family doesn’t even realize it yet. His particular Protector skill is tied to his intellect, much like mine. As his skills develop, so will his inventiveness. Or, rather, those skills
would
develop were I not about to usurp them. Once I have tapped the boy’s potential, he will be merely average. His mother needn’t worry, though. I’m sure he’ll still do okay on his SATs—though I certainly can’t guarantee a Harvard education.”

“If the Council catches you ...” Mordi trailed off, his voice little more than a whisper, his stomach in knots. As much as he wanted to prove himself, there was still a tug, drawing him close to his father even when he wanted to run far, far away.

No matter how many times he told himself that Hieronymous deserved it, the thought of his father suffering the Council’s direst punishments sent a shiver down his spine. Permanent interment in the catacombs. An eternity of darkness and solitude. And there were other unspoken punishments rumored to be ... well,
unspeakable.

How could he wish that on his father? And yet, considering who his father was and what he’d done, how could he not?

If Hieronymous succeeded, Mordi would have to betray him. To do otherwise would be a betrayal of the Council.

“Don’t you love the serendipity of it?” his father asked, fingers twitching. “How appropriate that it should be
his
son who will bring me my ultimate glory.”

The man paused, turning to glance at the monitors, his mouth drooping into a frown as he read the stock ticker running along the bottom of the center screen. After a moment, he spoke again, his words surprising Mordi. “I was pleased with your efforts today. My son.”

“I... Thank you.”

Hieronymous nodded. “I trust you will continue?”

“Sir?”

“You will not disappoint me as we conclude this venture—will you, Mordichai?”

Mordi shook his head, his chin lifted ever so slightly. “No, sir,” he said, pleased that his voice didn’t quaver with the lie. The truth was that he
would
disappoint Hieronymous. If he did his job right, that outcome was inevitable.

Closing his eyes, Mordi stifled a sigh. He shouldn’t care anymore. He knew that. But he did. Damn it all to Hades. Even after everything he’d been through, after all the lip he took from his father, he still didn’t want to disappoint the man.

Pathetic.

And dangerous. In Mordi’s line of work, a single moment of indecision could get a Protector in trouble. Deep, deep trouble.

Zoë was missing something, something important. But a bone-deep exhaustion was pulling her down, and the swill of hormones in her blood had her head in a muddle. She couldn’t think, and her only recourse was to play by the book. Her nephew’s safety was on the line, and she didn’t intend to compromise that—no matter how much the boy’s mother believed in Jason.

Two hours had passed since Lane begged her to uncuff Jason and let him lead them all to his houseboat docked in Marina del Rey. He wanted to tap into the Council’s database to scour it for possible locations where Hieronymous might have taken Davy. And although Lane thought that was a marvelous idea, Zoë had reasonably pointed out that a dozen Protectors were already doing that very thing.

What did Jason expect to find that others couldn’t?

“Unless he already knows where Hieronymous has Davy,” Zoë had said. “And he just wants to poke around for a while to strengthen his story.”

But Lane hadn’t bought that. For better or worse, she believed Jason was trying to help. So at last Zoë had succumbed to her friend’s wishes—but only because she was there to monitor Jason’s activities and Officer Boreas was around as backup.

They were all in the kitchen now, keeping an eye on Jason from the doorway. Zoë frowned, watching him tap at the computer keys. He’d been focusing intently on the task for an hour, and he was still going strong, determined. “I still think this is a mistake,” she said, not really meaning to speak aloud.

Lane shook her head. “He’ll find something the others won’t. And even if he doesn’t, I understand what he’s going through. He needs to do something—
anything
. ”She shrugged. “I’m going stir crazy myself. I’m absolutely useless ... no help at all to my son.”

Zoë‘s heart twisted, and she gave her stomach a protective pat before walking to Lane and putting her arms around her. “We’ll find him,” she said.

And she meant it. Her hormones be damned, they were going to find Davy and save him.

From the small window over the sink, Lane watched as the sun slid closer to the horizon: a symphony of colors reflected on the calm ocean, deceptively beautiful. Night was falling, and still they hadn’t found any leads. There
were
monsters in the dark, and her son was with one of them.

Deena walked into the room and Lane tried to conjure a smile for her.

“I just came in to tell you that I called Hoop. I thought it might be helpful if he were here.”

Lane smiled a silent thank-you. She wished Taylor were around, but her foster brother was still at his convention in Switzerland. Zoë had called him, of course, but he wasn’t going to be able to get back until morning. Hoop was Taylor’s best friend, and a private eye as well. She was glad he was on his way over.

Of course, she wasn’t sure how much help Deena’s fiancé would be. She’d take whatever warm bodies she could get helping in the search, though, and maybe Hoop would think of something the dozens of Protectors already looking for Davy had missed. At the very least, he’d give her a hug. At the moment she could really use one of Hoop’s clumsy but sincere hugs.

She paused. In truth, it wasn’t Hoop’s hug she wanted but Jason’s. Earlier, at Sea World, he’d held her tight in the circle of his arms. She’d felt safe. Secure. His embrace had provided a barrier between her and horrible reality, and she’d succumbed to the pleasure, drinking in the optimism engendered by his caress.

Now, the memory of his touch teased her. How her body had heated when she’d seen him. And how right they’d felt together so many years ago—even if his departure had proved they weren’t right at all.

Then again, if what Jason said was true, he would have returned if he could have. Which meant... what? There was still something there? After all this time?

She frowned.
No
. No way. Not after what he’d done.

The day she’d found out she was pregnant with Davy had been the most emotional of her life. Wonderful, but terrifying. She’d needed him there, wanted him holding her hand and sharing her joy and her fears.

But he’d walked away. Maybe he’d meant to return, and maybe he hadn’t. The bottom line was that he’d put himself before her and her child, and she couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t do the same thing all over again. That was even more true now that she knew he was a Protector. She would never come first. Even—especially—if he was the good guy he claimed; saving the world would always rank just a little bit higher than being with her. Than being with his son.

Honestly, she couldn’t bear that. She’d spent her childhood being shuffled from home to home, never truly being important to anyone. She didn’t want that for Davy. Her son was her priority, and he needed to be the same to whatever man she ended up with.

From what she knew of Jason, he wasn’t that man.

She sighed. She’d work with him to find Davy, but that was all. Once she had her son back, she’d get on with her life.

She stifled a shiver, the truth crashing in on her once again as it had all afternoon:
Her son was missing.
For brief moments she could remove herself from that reality, could think objectively and know that everything was being done to bring him back. But then she’d return to her own skin, and the horror of it would surround her.

Her skin was clammy and her head throbbed. Her chest ached, and her eyes burned from tears both released and forced back. She was living her worst nightmare, worse than any situation she’d expected or worked so hard to prevent. So much for all her efforts at safety. None of her planning or worrying had protected her boy, and now she had to rely on the help of the one man she’d never expected to see again.

As if reading her droughts, Deena and Zoë reached out for her, each squeezing a hand. She smiled, wishing she had more to cling to than just their friendship.

But she
did
have more. She had Jason’s promise. And even if she didn’t entirely trust him, she did trust
that
.

She turned to Deena, squinting. “Zoë thinks I’m nuts for trusting him. What do you think?”

Color rushed to Deena’s cheeks, and Lane almost laughed out loud. Deena was
so
not
the
blushing type, and to see her now looking decidedly uncomfortable was funny. Of course, considering her own state of near hysterics, she’d probably laugh at Davy’s favorite Protector joke;
How many superheroes does it take to screw in a lightbulb ? None. They just find Electroman and ask him to light up
.

She clenched her fists and fought a burst of giggles. Yup. She was definitely hysterical.

After a couple of deep breaths, she felt reasonably in control and repeated her question about Jason. Deena licked her lips, but this time the woman didn’t fudge. She didn’t look at Zoë, either.

“I don’t know what to think. Jason said the kidnapper was a shape shifter.” She turned to Zoë. “Since I’m not entirely sure what you saw...” She trailed off, her words laced with some import Lane didn’t understand.

Zoë did, though. She sucked in a sharp breath, then closed her eyes. “Fire,” she whispered. “
That’s
what’s been bugging me. He used fire.”

When Lane’s sister-in-law opened her eyes again, she looked straight at Lane and uttered a name. It wasn’t as bad as Hieronymous, but still it was enough to turn Lane’s blood cold:

“Mordichai.”

Davy shoved his glasses into the front pocket of his T-shirt. When his pretend daddy had kidnapped him, those glasses had been in his jeans. Now the arm had broken off, and his mom was going to be really mad. He’d only had the glasses for a month, and she’d made him promise to always wear them and not put them in his pocket, because they cost a whole bunch and she didn’t have the money to replace them every time he sat on them.

This probably meant no Pokemon for at least a week.

The thought of his Game Boy sitting on his desk at home made him start sniffling again. He did so loudly, then ran the back of his hand under his nose and wiped it on his shorts, determined not to be a crybaby. His mom and Aunt Zoë would come soon. Elmer would tell them where to find him, and then he wouldn’t be stuck in this big white room all alone.

When the big Outcast named Clyde had taken him and gotten on that elevator, he’d been really scared—even after Clyde claimed they were just going to a secret hideout. Davy had been so scared, in fact, he’d been happy to be left all alone in this locked room.

He’d scoped it out really good, testing every single part of the walls just like he was playing Super Mario Brothers. But no secret passages opened, which meant that the room made a lousy secret hideout. Of course, by then he knew it wasn’t really a secret hideout. Even though the walls weren’t stone and the floor was carpeted, it was still a dungeon and he was a prisoner, and unless he figured a way out, he was stuck.

Now his tummy was rumbling and he’d looked at every single inch of the room. A twin bed was in the middle, and the walls were all white, with posters of Teletubbies—like he was a baby or something. There was a mirror hanging over the sink, and Davy felt certain there was a camera behind it. The toilet was right next to the bed in the middle of the room, which was kinda gross, so Davy was gonna hold it for as long as he could.

The door locked from the outside, and he couldn’t find a latch. The one window above the bed had bars behind its sheer blue curtains. Davy looked around for a light or a switch but didn’t find one. He also didn’t find any way out—and since he didn’t have any of his tools, he couldn’t make anything to cut away the bars. All he had were his clothes and his Walkman, and that wasn’t much to work with.