Aphrodite's Kiss (7 page)

“Times change, Zoë. Gotta go with the flow.”

He moved backward, and Zoë clambered to her feet, pacing him. “I don’t think I’m up for any change that means I have to dress like a bum and attack mortals.”

Mordi shrugged. “To each his own.” He smiled and held up the woman’s purse. “I’ll just be running along.”

She leaped as he spun around, her hand managing to close on his. He looked at their clasped hands and a slow grin spread across his face. “Why, cousin, I didn’t know you cared.”

Beneath her fingers, his flesh warmed, growing hotter and hotter the longer she held on. Her own sense of touch kicked in—exaggerating the heat generated by his flesh—and too late Zoë remembered Mordi’s other special skill: pyrokinesis, the ability to conjure living flame.

The sickly sweet smell of seared flesh surrounded her as heat scored her palm, pain stabbing through her hand and up into her arm. She writhed in agony, fighting the pain and gagging against the smell, but not letting go. She had to hold on, had to keep him there. Had to find out what he was up to.

Red hot and throbbing, her hand blistered and charred from the heat of his skin, his touch so hot it was icy cold. It was too much ... too much, and she ripped her hand away as tears stung her eyes.

She stared, amazed, at her unmarred hand, and then remembered—Mordichai could summon both real and illusory fire. He was toying with her. Just as he always had when they were younger.

“You’ll never win, Zoë. I know it; you know it.” Mordi flipped her a little salute and took off running again.

“No!” Zoë cried, reaching once more for his clothes, bracing herself for the pain of the fire.

As she caught the hem of his jacket, he turned slightly. “It’s no use,” he said. “You know I’m stronger. I’ll alwa—”

His eyes went wide with surprise as his body shimmered, and suddenly Zoë’s hand was clutching the tail of a large sewer rat with Mordi’s vivid green eyes. The woman’s purse plopped onto the ground, and her wallet and necklace spilled onto the street.

Zoë snatched the Mordi-rat around its middle. “Annoying the way our powers fluctuate these days, isn’t it?” she said, unreasonably happy to discover she wasn’t the only one. “You may be stronger, but I’m bigger.”

The rat’s mouth clamped down on her hand, and she yelped as needle-sharp teeth pierced the tender skin, shaking her hand wildly to get loose. It worked, and he fell to the ground—right into a gutter labeled NO DUMPING. DRAINS TO OCEAN.

She let out a groan of frustration as she massaged her sore hand. In that gutter, he was gone for good. At least for now. And she was left with a million questions and no answers.

She collapsed onto the curb and dropped her head to her knees, letting out an exhausted sigh. Whatever the heck Mordi thought he was doing, he hadn’t gotten away with it.

She heard the patter of approaching feet and looked up. A small group, led by the woman clutching the little boy, was rounding the corner.
Uh-oh
. She really needed to get the heck out of Dodge.

The woman knelt beside her, breathless, as she scooped up her purse and jewelry. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Zoë put her hand to her face, relieved to find her hood was still in place. A police siren sounded in the distance, and Zoë stood up. Behind them, the crowd applauded and snapped pictures.
Oh, sweet Hera, the newspapers.
Zoë cringed. “I should really get out of here now.”

“Wait!” The woman grabbed Zoë
’
s arm.

Zoë glanced around, frantic, wondering how the heck she was going to get away.

“Please,” the woman said.

The siren drew closer, and she stumbled backward, needing to get away from the flashing camera bulbs and the siren. She was afraid that if she stayed too long, she’d somehow be recognized.

“No, really,” she said, stepping back again. “I need to—”

“That’s a wrap, everyone!” That was Deena’s voice, breathless from running, and Zoë flashed her a grateful smile.

“We hope you all enjoyed watching our rehearsal for
Boopsey Saves the World
.” Deena waved at the small crowd gathered on the far sidewalk. “We’ll be running through the space alien segment in ten minutes, five blocks that direction. Go early for the best seats.” She gestured toward the end of the street and, with cameras and tote bags in tow, the herd of tourists moved down the side street toward Hollywood Boulevard.

As the crowd stampeded away, Deena flashed a triumphant smile, and a wave of relief washed over Zoë. Deena hadn’t disappeared. In fact, just the opposite. Deena was pretty much taking charge, and now she grabbed Zoë’s arm and tugged her the wrong way through the tower’s emergency exit.

Zoë was so relieved, she didn’t even realize that the woman and her toddler had followed until the door closed behind them.

“A movie?” the woman asked, incredulity in her voice. She looked from Zoë to Deena, then back to Zoë again, all the while balancing the little boy on her hip.

“Uh,” Zoë said stupidly, then looked to Deena for help.

“We’ve got some bigwig backers,” Deena said, and the woman turned to look at her. “Some heavy-duty product placement.”

The woman shifted the child. “Uh-huh.”

“No, really,” Deena said. She pointed to Zoë’s propulsion cloak. “It’s specially designed. Works like a hang glider. Has microthin, superstrong wires in there.”

“Really?” the woman asked, almost sounding like she was actually buying Deena’s wacko story. She took a step forward, and Zoë took a step back, keeping Deena’s microthin superwires just out of reach.

“Absolutely,” Deena said. She turned to Zoë, her eyebrows riding high above her Ray-Bans. “Right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Zoë said. “I was up there getting ready to shoot my scene. And, uh, I saw that guy, and I figured I could help.” She nibbled on her lower lip, wondering if she sounded like a total idiot or just a partial one. “But it’s top secret. You won’t say anything to the, uh, newspapers, will you?”

“Please,” Deena added. “If other special effects companies knew...”

“I won’t say anything,” the woman said, snuggling close to her little boy. “I mean, I owe you, after all.” She squinted. “A movie, huh? I didn’t even see a camera.”

Zoë looked at Deena. “On top of the tower,” she said, only barely making it a statement rather than a question.

“We were hoping not to draw too much of a crowd.”

“Exactly,” added Zoë, getting more into the spirit. “We’re taking a huge risk not filming on a closed set.”

“Oh,” said the woman, still looking bewildered. “Well. Lucky for me you took a chance.”

“You have no idea,” Zoë said.

The woman caught her gaze and smiled, holding out her hand. “Thank you. For saving Davy, and for getting that creep off me.”

“Do you know him? What did he want?” Maybe this woman had the answer, because Zoë couldn’t think of one reason why Mordi would be robbing mortals.

“I don’t have a clue.” She bit her lip. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Money and jewelry,” Deena said, pointing to the purse and necklace the woman still held in her hand. The chain was wrapped around her palm, and the stone pendant swung free. “Your basic mugger staples.”

“He’s a stupid mugger,” the woman said. “I’m flat broke, and I bought this thing for a buck at a thrift shop.” She grinned. “I thought it was so ugly that it was fun.”

“Ugly?” Zoë asked. “It’s fabulous.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“She has lousy taste,” Deena said with a laugh. Zoë scowled at her, but she just shrugged. “Well, you do.”

The woman pressed the stone into Zoë’s palm. “Take it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do.”

Zoë closed her fingers over the smooth stone. It seemed to fit her hand, and the stone pulsed warmly in her palm. “Okay, then. Thank you.”

The little boy yawned, and his mother smiled. “It’s nothing compared to what you gave me. I thought Davy ...” She blinked, her eyes moist. “Anyway, thank you again.” She cocked her head. “I don’t suppose you want to tell me the name of your production company?”

“No,” said Zoë.

“Can’t,” added Deena, flashing Zoë a glare. “Top secret, remember.”

“Right.” Then, with a wink and a smile, she slipped out the emergency exit, leaving Zoë and Deena staring at each other in the service area.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Deena put a hand on her hip, and Zoë braced for a barrage of questions.

“So,” Deena finally said. “I’m guessing those issues you mentioned run a little deeper than just not wanting to share a bathroom with a guy, huh?”

Deep beneath the Washington Monument, the American base of the Venerate Council of Protectors hummed with activity, computers churning, viewscreens displaying precise layouts of the nation’s cities. In the ops center, Donis and Hale sat in front of a static-filled image of Zephron, the high elder.

Hale drummed his fingers on his knees, waiting for the holographic transmission to clear. He had no idea why he’d been summoned to the center, and he hoped like Hades it wasn’t going to interfere with his vacation plans.

On his shoulder, Elmer stretched and yawned.
Well, this is fun
—
not! I thought you said we‘d be in Greece by now
....

Hale scowled. The little ferret had a heck of a mouth on him. “Quiet,” he whispered. “Do you want to get me in trouble?”

Donis shot them both a look. “If you insist on bringing your furry sidekick, you should teach him some manners.”

“Have
you
ever tried to teach a ferret manners?”

Hey! I’ve read Miss Manners. I know which fork to use. What do I look like? A heathen?

“He’s talking back, isn’t he?” Donis asked, eyeing Elmer suspiciously.

Hale rolled his eyes, wondering for the umpteen-millionth time why he had to have been born with the ability to talk with animals. At least Zoë and Donis got some peace and quiet once in awhile. Even in the park, when Hale was alone ... well, let’s just say no one knew all the really nutty jokes the squirrels tended to shout out.

Elmer nipped at his earlobe.
Yo, Hale, my man. You‘re not really mad, are you? Not at little ol’ Elmer. Are you
?

For about half a second, Hale considered letting Elmer stew. Then he shook his head. Elmer had been his buddy for three years, and before that, Elmer’s dad, Ercel, had been his constant companion. They were family, he and Elmer. And he couldn’t stay mad at family. “But stay quiet,” he whispered. “We don’t want to irritate Zephron.”

As he was laying down the law to Elmer, the holograph shimmered, coming into focus.

“Hieronymous is attempting to rally the Outcasts,” Zephron announced, and Hale’s stomach twisted. He turned to look at his father, and saw that Donis’s eyes were wide, confirming what Hale already knew—this was bad. Very bad.

Hoo-boy. This sucks big-time.

“But the new treaty—” Donis began.

“Exactly,” Zephron said.

The council Web site had recently been filled with news about the negotiations between the council and the mortal heads of state. The original Mortal-Protector Treaty had been in place since 1970, the year Hale was born. Under its terms, only a select few mortals who worked for the top-secret Liaison Office knew of the existence of Protectors and their governing body. Under the newly proposed treaty, council members would take a more open role in society, aiding mortals as always, but abandoning the need for absolute secrecy.

Hieronymous and his Outcast followers, however, didn’t belong to the council, and had no intention of working for mortals.

“Surely you don’t think—” Donis began.

“If he does manage to rally the Outcasts, they can wreak enough havoc that the mortals will fear us. Everything we’ve worked for will break down. Our relationship with the mortal governments will be destroyed, our hopes for a broader treaty will be squelched, and we will likely end up in a war with the Outcasts.” He paused, his image flickering. “How many mortal lives would be lost in the battle?”

“But what can he do?” Hale asked. “He’s an Outcast. He’s under constant supervision. He can’t even communicate with other Outcasts without using a monitored device. He’s forbidden to use his powers except in private. So how can he possibly interfere?”

“He is forbidden, true. His offspring, however, is not.” Zephron’s image shimmered. “You have heard of Aphrodite’s girdle?”

Hale and Donis exchanged a look. “Who hasn’t?”

Hale asked, confused by the change in topic. “It’s a bedtime story.”

“The belt worn by Aphrodite centuries ago,” Donis added. “She forged it with her powers, and when she wore it, anyone she desired fell hopelessly in love with her.”

“Exactly,” said Zephron. “And there’s more. The belt has many unexplored properties. Its centerpiece, for example, has many mysterious characteristics. For one, that stone can act as a transmitter under certain circumstances. At the right time, at the right place, a skilled Protector could speak directly to all Outcasts, circumventing all our efforts to forestall communications among the Outcasts.”

“And what exactly are the right circumstances?” Donis pressed.

Zephron looked him straight in the eye. “A lunar eclipse coupled with a certain planetary alignment.”

“When?” asked Hale.

“Next Wednesday. Midnight exactly.”

Hale’s head was spinning. “I’m still confused. Are you saying Hieronymous has this stone? Hasn’t the belt been missing for centuries?”

“He does not have the stone. Yet. But I’m certain he is aware of the legend.”

This was the part about being on the council that drove Hale nuts. No one would just come out and say what was on their mind. Everything had to be riddles and legends. Mysticism was all well and good, but a little straight talking would surely move things along.

What legend
? Elmer asked.

“My question exactly,” Hale said. “What legend?”

Donis closed his eyes. “Mother of Zeus, now I remember.” He turned and faced Hale. “There’s a legend that says that prior to the night the moon vanishes from the sky, the stone from Aphrodite’s girdle will find its way to the hand of a halfling, who will then be welcomed to or shunned from the council.”