Aphrodite's Secret (5 page)

“But,” Hieronymous continued, “the Council will know the ‘truth.’ They will see a video replay, since I remotely reprogrammed the recording system on their North American satellite. They will see Jason taking his child. They will believe he did it so that he can thumb his nose at the Council. Thumb his nose at propriety itself.”

“I understand,” Mordi said. And he did. His father’s plan was nefarious. As usual. When the man put one of his plots into motion, he always pulled out all the stops.

Of all the Outcasts in the world, Hieronymous was the most ambitious. He wasn’t content to sit in exile; he wanted to crush both mortals and the Council. He wanted to be supreme ruler, and his enthusiasm was magnetic, drawing other Outcasts to him like flies to honey.

Mordi knew better than any just how compelling his father could be.

Hieronymous continued, “As I said, the plan is perfect. Not only will I get the boy; the Council will think our young Jason has defied them and pledged his allegiance to me.” He chuckled, a low, ominous sound.

Mordi had no idea why his father was so intent on destroying Jason. True, the Protector had escaped from one of his father’s infamous cells, but others had escaped Hieronymous’s clutches before. And yet Mordichai had never seen Hieronymous pursue his quarry with such vengefulness. Something else was going on, something personal, and Mordi had no idea what it was.

Under the circumstances, though, it didn’t matter. At the moment, he didn’t have any choice but to go along with his father’s plan. To do otherwise would blow his cover. And while Mordi didn’t have any clue why Hieronymous wanted the boy, one thing was certain: whatever the reason, it couldn’t possibly be good.

Jason frantically searched the park, but he couldn’t find any sign of his son. He wanted to leap from the tower, to search, to turn over leaves and ransack buildings until he found the boy, but he couldn’t. Right now, the lives of about fifteen people trapped in the Sky Tower were in danger.

Beneath him, the tower pitched and swayed with the raging storm, and the trapped mortals screamed again.

In one fluid motion, he dove from the Tower, hoping like heck that the propulsion properties of his cloak hadn’t short-circuited when the invisibility feature had gone kablooey. They hadn’t, and he gathered speed, zipping toward the lagoon, the closest body of water he could find.

If this were a movie, he’d simply hover beneath the Sky Tower, the bulk of the structure’s weight resting in one hand while he fought off an army of bad guys with his other.
Not likely
. He was strong, but not
that
strong. Maybe a few Protectors could pull off a stunt like that, but not him. No, his powers were subtler. He liked to think of
them
as classier. But he could still get the job done.

He broke the surface of the lagoon in a perfectly executed dive, the familiar feel of the water boosting his confidence. Almost immediately he flipped, turning 180 degrees until he was aimed back toward the surface. Without even pausing, he pushed off from the lagoon’s sandy bottom to spring up and out of the water, determining his plan of attack as he did.

When he surfaced, the tower was listing even more to the left, pressed down further by the weight of several wide-eyed mortals who’d shifted to watch his plunge into the water. A sharp, cracking noise ripped the air; this time not thunder but the sound of metal twisting and breaking. A cacophony of sounds followed, topped by the frightened screams of the mortals in the tower.

Jason tuned out the noise, hearing nothing except the sounds of the water in which he dipped his fingers, dragging his hand through the storm-roughened surface of the lagoon. He took a deep breath, knowing he couldn’t hurry the process, his body tense nonetheless. Around his fingers, the water molecules shifted, spinning and humming as they conformed to his will.

Almost. . .

The structure groaned, the noise mimicking a cry of human pain.

Almost. . .

Jason held his breath.

Just a little more. ..

In front of him, the Sky Tower gave one last gasp of protest and lost its valiant fight. Down it went, plunging toward the solid earth below.

Now!

With lightning speed Jason drew up his hand, then splayed it sideways, sending a solid stream of water shooting out from the lagoon toward the falling tower. The timing was perfect and, with a few yards to spare, the stream slipped under the tower, cushioning its landing. Slowly the water melted away. Soon it would dissolve completely, leaving the tower to settle gently on the ground.

The mortals inside had grown surprisingly calm. Instead of screaming or fainting, most were simply goggle-eyed, staring and pointing at their salvation as if they’d never seen anything like it. Jason supposed that was true. Water rarely solidified and moved of its own accord. And even if the adults had watched James Cameron’s
The Abyss
—Jason’s all-time favorite movie—chances were they’d never actually seen a solid column of water up close and personal.

He suppressed a grin, pleased with his solution: subtle and classy, if a little bit wet.

Of course, the mortals were going to ask questions, but the MLO would put a good spin on his work. A freak miniature tidal wave, maybe? And that was their problem, not his. Right now he needed to go check out the rest of the park.

Jason frowned, suddenly realizing that the storm had ceased. The sky was perfectly blue, not a single cloud marring it.

Thank Zeus
, he thought, then immediately cringed, realizing he had nothing to be thankful for. There was only one reason for the storm to have ended so abruptly, and it wasn’t good: while Jason was occupied with the Tower, Hieronymous had gotten what he’d come for.

Damn
. Where in Hades was his backup? If he’d had some support, maybe they could have saved the mortals
and
prevented Hieronymous from finding the mysterious talisman he’d sought. As it was, Sea World was eerily quiet, so Hieronymous had probably gotten what he’d come for.

Jason’s stomach tightened as he remembered Davy. His boy was somewhere in the park. And even if squashing Davy wasn’t on Hieronymous’s agenda, Jason was certain that the Outcast leader would have no qualms whatsoever about doing so if the opportunity presented itself.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Jason leaped—in such a hurry to get to his son that he didn’t even check to make sure his cloak was still functional. Fortunately, it was. He adjusted its controls, and power surged around him, shooting him forward, across the park toward Shamu’s theater. As he soared over the building at the back of the enclosure, the pool came into full view—and so did Davy.

Jason shuddered. His father had outdone himself this time. Davy was strung up above the pool, tightly bound with sturdy white rope. The only thing missing from the horrifying picture was sharks swimming below—though that, considering Jason was on friendly terms with all the sharks in the park, could have come in handy.

But, no; the water was clear with the exception of the lovable orca Shamu pinioned to the bottom of his pool by some particularly strong-looking cables.

Jason exhaled, fighting to stay calm and professional. But it was hard. Hieronymous had both his son and his friend. Both were okay for the moment, but one of the first things they taught young Protectors was that when evil madmen string up children above a deep pool of water, it’s rarely for a nice reason.

In this case, of course, Jason knew the reason: revenge. This was retribution against him for not joining forces with his father.

His gut tightened, his hand clenching in anticipation of his own revenge. One way or another, he would make Hieronymous pay. And the more Hieronymous fought back, the worse it would be for him in the end.

Jason took two steadying breaths, focusing on the immediate problem of rescuing his son and Shamu.
What happened?
he called to the whale.

No answer.

Jason swallowed, fearing the worst. Unlike some species, orcas didn’t stay down for long, usually maxing out at fifteen or so minutes. And orcas needed to be conscious to breathe. If Shamu had been knocked out...

I’m okay
. The whale’s voice was weak from under the water but understandable.
But I’m trapped
.

What happened!? Who did this? Is Hieronymous here
? Jason spewed out his questions machine-gun style, one right after the other.

Someone else . . .

Who
? Jason looked around wildly.
Where is he
?

Dunno. He was here, and then he was gone
. Confusion filled the whale’s voice.
He said something about me being on to him, and then he talked to himself about how this wasn‘t the right time; then the next thing I knew, those squid guys were strapping me to the bottom of the pool
.

Jason grimaced.
Henchmen
. He’d suspected that they’d be here doing Hieronymous’s bidding. The slimy, slithery creatures were a pain, but he could handle them.

Protectors knew the truth about what mortals thought was only a bedtime story: creepy, crawly creatures really did roam the earth, often disguised as humans. For centuries, the Council had been tasked with locking in ancient catacombs those things that went bump in the night. When released, though, these “Henchmen” were loyal to a fault. And Hieronymous had used them on more than one occasion.

I’ll get you out of there
, Jason promised, still not sure exactly how to do so without endangering the whale or his son. There was, after all, only one of him. And this was probably a trap. From what Shamu said, there was at least one Outcast and two Henchmen. Probably more.

From his perch atop the staff dressing room, Jason cursed, his mind going a million miles a minute. How could he do this?

A bolt of lightning streaked across the perfectly clear sky, followed by a clap of thunder so close it shook the stands. Jason’s eyes went to the stage at the front of the orca’s pool. There, a man had appeared front and center, his back to Jason.

Jason noted the invisibility cloak now crumpled at the man’s feet, and he tightened his jaw, desperate to attack—but not so desperate that he forgot his training. Until he either understood the situation or assessed that Davy or Shamu had to be saved immediately, he was going to wait and watch. Most likely, the Outcast would make a mistake he could use to his advantage. He ducked down, flattening himself on the rooftop. His lack of his own invisibility cloak was an irritation; hopefully, it wouldn’t become a liability.

The masked man nodded toward Davy, his polite gesture to the boy contrasting his decidedly evil intentions. “Please forgive the pyrotechnics,” he said, his voice polished and proper, with the hint of an accent. “They were necessary to serve my purpose.”

Definitely not Hieronymous, but... the voice was somehow familiar. Clearly, Hieronymous had directed one of his Outcast flunkies to this task, while the big dog himself called the shots from somewhere else. Jason snorted; that was just like the H-man.

Never quite willing to get his own hands dirty. That was why he was still allowed to roam freely, because there was never enough evidence to imprison him.

“Not that you care about my motives, of course,” the masked Outcast said. “But there are other ears listening and other eyes watching. I’m betting on it.” As he spoke, his hand drifted to his ear, and he nodded ever so slightly.

Jason frowned, wondering what the Outcast was up to. The reference to other eyes and ears had to mean the Council; even if they weren’t monitoring at the moment, this whole afternoon would be played back from the recordings the Council’s satellites made on a daily basis.

He crouched lower, maneuvering to the edge of the roof as he pondered the best plan of attack. At the moment, he believed Hieronymous’s flunky didn’t know he was there. A good thing, too. He needed the element of surprise. It was his only advantage.

His fingers itched with the desire to grab his cloak and zoom down to Davy’s rescue. But that would be foolhardy. He didn’t know how many Outcasts or other Henchmen were lurking about. And while he relished the opportunity to thwart one of Hieronymous’s schemes, he could never intentionally do anything that might put Davy further at risk.

He had to think of another approach. A subtler one.

Clenching his fists, Jason looked at the smaller holding pool behind Shamu’s tank. Maybe if he freed Shamu, the whale could somehow help him free his son.

Armed with a plan, Jason dropped back behind the building and ran to the holding pool.

As he did, the masked man continued speaking. “So many secrets,” the Outcast said. “About family. About alliances. Of course, it all boils down to politics—the bane of all adults’ existences. But you, Davy, are the key. Such a lucky, lucky little boy.”

Jason frowned, trying to process the words that sounded more like a rehearsed speech than a passionate diatribe.
Politics? Secrets?
What did this guy mean? Was Hieronymous’s flunky referring to the ongoing treaty negotiations between Protectors and mortals? It was no secret that Hieronymous was opposed to amending and expanding the Treaty of 1970. To him, mortals were nothing more than bugs to be squashed, and it irritated him to no end that the Council was negotiating with several governments to make a legitimate, open place in the world for Protectors.

Jason didn’t know exactly how Davy fit into Hieronymous’s plan, but he didn’t intend to waste time analyzing. Instead, he took a running leap, tossed his cloak aside, and soared through the air. He twisted, forming his body into a perfect dive. Slicing through the water with no splash, he sank to the bottom of Shamu’s holding pool. He felt his body change, his very pores drawing in oxygen.

Even as a human, he could stay down here forever. Today, though, he needed a disguise. He wasn’t a full shape shifter—someone who could assume any form—but he did have cetacean morphability. It was a handy trait inherited from his ancestor Delphinos.

A metal gate separated the holding pool from the performance pool where Shamu was trapped. In human form, Jason could easily raise the gate, but he didn’t want to risk being so obvious. So far, he hadn’t been noticed or recognized, and Jason intended to hold on to that advantage for as long as possible. He sped through the water, transforming at the same time. Faster and faster he went and then—as he approached the impenetrable metal bars of the gate—he launched himself, fully transformed as a gleaming, spectacular dolphin. He cleared the gate easily, landing in the main pool, just one more happy cetacean hanging out at Sea World.