Aphrodite's Secret (7 page)

“Shhh,” Zoë whispered, a finger over her lips. They were in some sort of service tunnel. A patch of light shone in from one end, while cracks in the surrounding structure let in slivers of daylight all around. Even better than being free was the fact that she could now hear what was going on. That was the good news. The bad news was that what she was hearing didn’t sound good at all.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Deena asked, following at Zoë‘s heels.

“Will you be quiet?” Zoë hissed. She stopped to peer through a crack. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Right. Sure.” Deena nodded, then leaned in close to Zoë‘s ear. “So, your powers are back?”

Zoë shook her head. “They’re gone again. The craving’s gone, and so are my powers.”

Deena raised an eyebrow. “Well, that sucks.”

So it did. But Zoë had to admit that she now understood why the High Elder had told her to take a full year off from her Council duties under the Halfling Maternity Leave policy. She still had to fill out all the paperwork, but basically she was off active duty until the baby was six months old.

She felt a little guilty about telling Zephron even before she’d told Taylor—but he’d gone to Geneva for a conference sponsored by the Mortal Counterparts to Protectors Coalition, and she’d only told Zephron because the disappearance of her powers had scared her.

Of course, now Deena knew, too. Hopefully, no one else would figure it out. Zoë didn’t want Taylor to be the absolute last person to find out he was going to be a daddy.

“So where are we?” Deena asked in a whisper.

Zoë had stood up and pressed an eye to a small crack in the low ceiling. She saw nothing more than a view of the bright blue sky. “Under the stands, I think.” She got down on her hands and knees. “Come on.” She started to crawl forward, toward a patch of light several yards away.

Someone was speaking, and the voice echoed beneath the stands. “Anonymity is so cowardly,” the man was saying. “Don’t you agree?”

Deena and Zoë exchanged glances, then rushed forward to peer through the tiny cracks in the wood, eager to see the enemy reveal himself. “I don’t think that’s Hieronymous’s voice,” Zoë whispered. “I’m guessing he got one of his underlings to pull off this little prank.”

Deena shook her head.

“I’m still hoping for regular, old-fashioned muggers. I kind of had my heart set on a quiet, laid-back summer.”

Zoë nodded toward the stage, where the man was tugging at his mask. “We’ll know soon enough.”

Up the man’s mask went, and he casually tossed it aside. Zoë gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. “That’s not an Outcast,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “He’s a Protector.”

Deena twisted around, her forehead creased with concern. “You
know
him?”

“Not personally. Jake or Jason or something. I saw him interviewed on
Protectors Tonight
after he escaped from Hieronymous about a year ago.”

“A shark in sheep’s clothing,” Deena said. Zoë raised an eyebrow, and Deena shrugged. “Well, we
are
at Sea World,” she added.

Zoë rolled her eyes.

“Stockholm syndrome, I bet,” Deena said. “He rejoined the Council, but he was really working all along for Hieronymous.”

Zoë licked her lips. “You must be right.”

“So what do we do?”

Zoë didn’t answer. Instead, her attention was focused on the dolphin swimming in circles in the pool. Faster and faster it went, building up momentum and tracing the water’s perimeter. One last pass, and the heroic dolphin leapt from the water, soaring through the air to smash right into Jake-or-Jason’s gut. The bad guy fell backward, knocked on his tush.

“Yes!” Zoë yelled, not caring if the kidnapper heard her. “Come on!” She started running.

Deena grabbed her wrist. “What is it? Do you have a plan?”

“Yup,” Zoë said. She nodded across the pool. “I may not have my powers, but if a big fish can take out that Protector, I think you and I should be able to hold our own.”

Deena just blinked, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“Come on,” Zoë said, bursting from their hiding spot. “We’re going to go help that dolphin.”

* * *

If there was one thing every Protector learned during his rigorous training sessions, it was never to do anything without a plan. Jason had already ignored, mangled, and tossed aside
that
rule. Yet even without a plan he’d managed to knock down the shape shifter.

He knew, of course, that the maniac calling the shots on stage had to be a shape shifter. The man looked like him, but Jason had not gone mad and was not holding his son hostage at the moment. Ergo, the bad guy had the ability to assume his form. Of course, no one except Jason and Shamu knew that. Worse, Davy’s introduction to the likeness of his father was as a first-class creep. That wasn’t going to help in forging a father-son bond.

He’d deal with that little problem later, though. Right now, Jason needed to rescue his son. He focused on the water, shaping the molecules with his will. A column rose from the pool, up and up toward the boy, faster and faster as it got closer, building up speed so it could carry him to freedom....

Except it didn’t work. The water didn’t touch Davy. Instead, it slapped against an invisible wall and then splattered down like raindrops in a summer storm.
A force field
. Sweet Hera, Hieronymous’s minion had surrounded Davy with a protective force field.

On the concrete, the shape shifter climbed to his feet, brushing off his pants as he glared at Jason. Then he held up his hands, as if imploring the sky.

“Now would be good,” he shouted, his voice much less confident than it had been earlier, almost as if he’d run out of script and had moved to improvisation.

Even before the shifter’s voice faded on the breeze, clouds formed in the sky, darkening so quickly that Jason had the illusion he was watching time-lapse photography. The wind kicked up again, violent and demanding, turning the pool into a whirl that tossed Jason about on its waves. Jason fought to stay at its surface, his eyes on Davy, as he looked for a solution: a break in the force field, a mistake,
anything
.

Jason
? Shamu called.
What’s going on
? The whale surfaced, breaking the water in a leap, then splashing down to shower the Outcast. The Outcast didn’t even notice; he just stood, his arms raised as if he were conducting a symphony. The wind swirled around him.

Davy bounced and swung in the wind, fear reflected on his little face despite an obvious effort to remain stoic.

What’s the plan
? Shamu called.

Jason wished he knew.
I’m working on it
. He took a breath.
I won’t let anything happen to Davy
.

Shamu moved his head, a slight nod, then looked at Jason.
I know, so what do we do
?

“Aunt Zoë!” Davy’s scream pierced the air, and Jason looked up to find the boy caught in the wind. The ropes binding him had been ripped away, and the boy flailed, trying futilely to get some purchase on the air swirling around him. The cyclone lifted him higher and higher above the whale’s pool—as if he was Dorothy and the wind was taking him straight to Oz.

Which was good and bad. Bad in that Hieronymous was trying to steal Jason’s little boy. Good in that Hieronymous couldn’t move the child while his force field was in place. Which meant he must have dropped it.

Immediately Jason concentrated on conjuring another column of water, but it was no use; the water bubbled and sputtered but wouldn’t congeal. His powers were tapped out; he couldn’t even return to human form. The massive effort to save the Sky Tower and then become a dolphin had exhausted his energy, and it would take time to recharge.

Time Davy didn’t have.

“Aunt Zoë!” the boy shouted again. The fear on his small face shot straight to Jason’s stomach. But what
really
wrenched Jason’s insides was that he was calling for Zoë.

“Davy!” Zoë screamed.

Jason held his breath, waiting for her to use her telekinesis to grab hold of the boy. But she didn’t do a damn thing except run toward the ladder leading up to the platform.

The wind picked up, twisting Jason’s son in a cyclone. Soon, Jason knew, the storm would hurl his boy out of this stadium into the waiting arms of Hieronymous. He had to act now. Maybe he couldn’t control the water, but he had to do something.

And he had to do it fast.

* * *

Zoë tilted her head back, the muscles straining in her arms as she balanced on top of the platform and threw a coil of rope into the air. She maintained the futile hope that—for just one throw—her powers would return and the line would reach Davy.

No luck.

“Zoë! Look!” Deena shouted.

Zoë shifted her gaze down and watched, wide-eyed, as Shamu rose to the surface of his pool, a dolphin straddling his tail. The orca thrashed out, sending the dolphin hurtling through the sky, straight toward Davy. The two collided, dolphin and boy, then tumbled together through the air as Davy clung to the dolphin’s slick skin for dear life.

Zoë held her breath. They pair had pulled free from the cyclone, but for how long? Would the wind try again?

The storm swirled back, dark clouds above reaching down like fingers to grasp their prey. The dolphin twisted, evading capture, even as it and the boy plummeted toward the water. Then ...

They’d made it! They two had escaped from Hieronymous! Deena let out a cheer, and Zoë breathed a sigh of relief. When this was over, she was buying that dolphin a truckload of raw fish.

Except it wasn’t over.

The Protector who’d turned traitor materialized over the water, hovering there, his Propulsion and Invisibility Cloak snapping in the wind. The dolphin squeaked and barked, the anger in its voice clear. Angry or not, though, it was no match for the Protector, who grabbed Davy by the shoulders even as the dolphin bit down on the boy’s shorts. The water made a
schlooping
sound as the Protector pulled them both out. Up they went: the boy stoically silent and the dolphin locked onto the back of his pants.

Up, up, up they went as Zoë concentrated, willing her damned hormones to calm down.

“Zoë ...”

She ignored Deena.

“Zoë!”

Still concentrating.

“Aunt Zoë!” Davy called.

Now!

She lashed out with all her concentration, managing to levitate a nearby bucket of fish—presumably Shamu’s dinner. Her aim was unsteady, but she heaved with all her might and it headed straight for the turncoat Protector’s head.

Whap
! Dead-on perfect.

Zoë cheered while Deena let out a little whoop. Their celebration was premature, however, because the Protector didn’t let go of his quarry.
Apollo’s Apples!
What could Zoë do now? She didn’t know, and so she did the one thing left to do—upended the bucket on the Protector’s head, sending a flood of dead fish raining down on him.

The man howled in protest, fire shooting from his fingertips in anger. The fish bath had startled him too, though, because he dropped Davy, and both the boy and the dolphin fell from the sky and landed with a splash in the holding pool.

* * *

Jason burst from the water, exuberant, his boy clinging to his back. Davy was safe. Thank Hera, his son was safe!

But even in his jubilation, a nasty little finger of jealousy poked him. It was foolish and egotistical maybe, but he’d wanted to be the one to save his son. Hell, he’d even thought he had. But his effort hadn’t been good enough—Zoë‘d had to come to the rescue.

Some superhero he was. How helpful was transforming into a fish when there was serious super-heroing needed?

“Davy! Mr. Dolphin! Look out!”

Jason dove back down, Davy clinging tight to his back, but it was too late. The shape shifter Outcast hadn’t been thwarted. He was an expert with his Propulsion Cloak, and now he swooped down for the kill.

“Davy!” Jason heard Zoë yell, but she didn’t
do
anything except bounce up and down in frustration. Why wasn’t she helping him?

He swam as fast as he could. Where, where,
where
was his backup?

The shape shifter caught up, grabbing on to Jason’s tail and spinning him over. Davy broke free and started paddling, his little cheeks puffed out, as he headed for the pool’s edge.

Jason heaved his bulk back toward the shape shifter, who held his tail. Dolphins might be cute and friendly, but they weighed a lot and packed a punch. The shifter was knocked backwards into the water, his motions becoming clumsy as he was submerged.

The Outcast couldn’t stay underwater long, but Jason could. If he could just get on top of his enemy. If he could just block his path . . .

Each time the shifter headed for the surface, Jason cut him off, a living barrier to keep the Outcast from air. And it was working, too. The Outcast was slowing down, losing steam—the lack of oxygen was taking its toll.

A flurry of movement at the surface caught Jason’s attention, and he took his eyes off his opponent long enough to look. His son flailed about, clearly fighting exhaustion and trying to stay afloat. Jason shifted, ready to lunge for the boy and push him out of the water, but Zoë dove in, wrapping her arm around Davy and carrying him to the side of the pool. Jason’s body sagged with relief.
Thank Zeus!

But his thanks died on his lips. He’d only been distracted for a split second, yet that was enough. As he focused his full attention back to the shifter, Jason was engulfed in a ball of living, breathing flame.

He writhed, the flames licking at him as the shifter propelled himself toward the water’s surface. And it was only when the shifter wrestled the boy from Zoë‘s arms and soared into the sky that Jason realized the fire surrounding him was an illusion. Underwater, of course, it had to be. But his brief hesitation had cost him everything.

It was over.

There was nothing he could do—nothing, except watch as his enemy lifted his son into the wild winds above and shot off across the sky, finally fading into nothing more than a distant black dot. And as the Outcast disappeared from sight, Jason thought he heard the deep, low tones of a maniacal laugh.