Aphrodite's Secret (8 page)

A scream of protest died in Jason’s throat, and he sank, defeated, to the bottom of the pool.

Once again, he’d failed. He’d failed in his mission, and he’d failed his son.

Hieronymous had won.

Well, Jason didn’t care if he had to sidestep every rule the Council had ever issued.
He
was going after Davy. And he was going to make his father pay.

All those lost years when he should have been with his son, with Lane ... He could have been playing on the beach with Davy, teaching his son to ride a bike, to read, to swim. Instead, he’d been stuck swimming in an endless loop, with no laughter, no chubby arms around his neck, no diapers, no sloppy kisses—just the water of his prison and his own dark thoughts.

He clenched his fists against the memories. Hieronymous had thought his punishment so clever, but the man had no imagination at all. Jason did. He’d retrieve his son. He’d defeat Hieronymous. And, in the end, he’d feast on a revenge sweeter than anything the Outcast leader had ever dreamed.

Mordi sailed through the sky, a squirming bundle of boy in his arms.

“Let go of me!” Davy hollered, his little legs kicking.

“Come on, kid,” Mordi said, continuing to keep his face and voice disguised. “Don’t you know me? Didn’t your mom show you pictures? I’m your daddy.”

Davy shifted, his eyes going wide then narrowing with suspicion. “You’re not my daddy!” he howled.

He gave a few more kicks, one right in Mordi’s gut. Mordi coughed, the wind knocked out of him, and lost control of his Propulsion Cloak; he and Davy tumbled through the sky. The boy screamed, clutching Mordi’s waist as if his little life depended on it.

“Don’t drop me!” he wailed.

Mordi sighed and righted them in the air. “Even if I dropped you, I’d catch you. Okay? It’ll be fine. Now, can we just have a little peace and quiet?”

The boy twisted, looking at him with terrified but determined eyes. “You’re not my daddy. You’re a stupid-head.”

Mordi sighed. “Sometimes I think you’re right, kid.”

“Stupid-head, stupid-head, stupid stupid stupid-head.” The boy’s singsong insults surrounded them.

Static blasted in Mordi’s ear. “Would you shut that child up?” Hieronymous asked. “He’s giving me a headache.”

“
You’re
getting a headache?” Mordi snapped. “How in Hades do you think I feel?” Okay, so maybe snapping at his father wasn’t the most brilliant move, but Mordi was at the end of his rope. He was supposed to be the good guy—the
good
guy—but was he getting a pat on the head? A “Thanks, kid, we appreciate the sacrifices you’re making for the cause”? Nope. Heck, he hadn’t even gotten a gift certificate to a nice restaurant. Instead, he was getting yelled at by his father and kicked in the gut by a small child.

He needed a vacation. Hell, he needed
two
vacations.

The kid in his arms squirmed some more, pushing Mordi off course. Mordi counted to ten and then glanced down at Davy, hoping he looked stern and paternal and not just frazzled. “Calm down, would you? We’re almost there.”

Davy’s eyes narrowed. “Where?”

Mordi pointed toward the yacht anchored in the marina just south of La Jolla. “There. That looks fun, right? Lots of boats. Kids love boats. So just be quiet and be still, okay? We’re almost there.”

“My
real
daddy’s an astronaut,” Davy said.

Mordi squinted at the line of boats, trying to remember at which slip Hieronymous had said the yacht would be docked. “That’s nice.”

“He’s on a mission, but he got stuck on a space station. That’s why he’s been gone for so long. But I know how to get him back. I’m going to talk to the people at NASA, and then my daddy will come home.”

Mordi stared at the kid. “And you know this how?”

“My mommy says so. I heard her talking to Aunt Zoë, and she said she needed to find a guy who wouldn’t disappear into the heavens like my daddy did.”

“Oh.” Mordi frowned feeling sorry for the boy. “What if he’s
not
an astronaut?”

Davy shook his head. “He is. And it’s the trajectory.” He tripped over the word but kept right on going. “I know all about the atmosphere and reentry, and they’ve got to fix his ship so he can get back. And when he does,” Davy added, “he’ll come straight to me and we’ll go buy a puppy.”

Mordi sighed. “Sometimes daddies disappoint us, kid.” He found the right yacht and started to descend. “There isn’t a darn thing we can do about it.” He gave Davy a squeeze, then just as quickly pushed the boy away. “Remember that, okay? It’ll save you a lot of heartache in the future.”

But Davy wasn’t paying attention. Instead, he was staring down at the deck of the boat. Hieronymous appeared, his black cloak whipping behind him in the brisk ocean breeze.

Davy turned to look at Mordi, his eyes huge. “Is
that
where we’re going?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

“ ‘Fraid so, kid.”

“Uh-oh,” the boy said. Mordi silently seconded the sentiment.

There was no point in giving chase—of that, Jason was sure. By the time he got his Propulsion Cloak, the shifter would be long gone; and without any idea of his destination, Jason could only fly around in circles. Of course, that was a moot point since he still needed a few minutes to gather his strength to transform. He circled the pool slowly, considering where Hieronymous would take Davy. He was certain of only one thing: Hieronymous wouldn’t have the boy brought to his residence in Manhattan. No, Hieronymous would use a different base, and Jason had to find it. To do that, he would need help.

After a few dozen laps that seemed to take just as many years, he was strong enough to transform and ascended in a rush to the pool’s surface. He swarm with swift, sure strokes to the edge of the pool. Glancing quickly around for Zoë, he didn’t see her. He could use her help, but at the moment he didn’t have time to search for her.

Frustrated, he climbed out, then raced toward the staff stairs. Along the way, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. His own clothes had sunk to the bottom of the pool, and there wasn’t time to retrieve them. He might be half-naked, but he needed to get this mission underway. He needed to find his son.

Directive 827B prohibited him from being part of the formal Council mission that would surely come of this kidnapping, but he’d argue about that later. All that mattered now was getting Davy back, and if he had to tattoo an SOS on his butt to get the Council’s attention, to let them know what had transpired, then that’s what he intended to do. First, though, he’d try the more direct approach of contacting Dispatch on his holo-pager.

He needed satellite surveillance. He needed intelligence. He needed whatever the heck anybody at headquarters could think of to ascertain where Hieronymous had taken his son. Once they figured that out,
then
Jason would figure out a way to worm himself into the mission.

When he reached the top of the platform, Jason slowed down long enough to look for his Propulsion Cloak and the holo-pager tucked into its pocket. It wasn’t anywhere to be found. He remembered then that it was on the other side of the barrier, on the ground near the holding pool.
Well, hell.

He backtracked, heading toward the stairs, when Zoë stepped out in front of him.

“Thank Zeus,” he said, his arm outstretched. “Pass me your holo-pager.”

In one swift motion, the other Protector snapped a pair of golden binder cuffs on his wrist, twisted him around, and hooked his other wrist behind his back. “Zoë, no. I—”

“You lousy, stinking traitor,” she said, her voice low and ominous. She glared at him as Deena ran up behind her. “I don’t know why you came back, but I’m glad you did.” She sucked in a breath, anger burning in her eyes. “Where’s Davy?”

Jason shook his head, his annoyance building. Yes, the shifter looked like him, but dammit, he hadn’t taken his own son!

“He can’t be too far,” Deena said. “This one wasn’t gone long before you caught him.”

“Is Davy in the park?” Zoë asked. “Where?”

Jason blinked, struggling to push words out from behind his red-hot anger. “You don’t understa—”

“Aw, we don’t understand,” she mocked.

“Davy’s my so—”

“I said don’t move!”

Jason took five deep breaths, trying to calm down. He couldn’t blame Zoë for being angry and confused, but he also didn’t have time to argue. He needed to convince her, and he opened his mouth, not sure what magic words would bring her over to his side but willing to jump right in and start pleading. He didn’t get a word out, though, because the backup he’d requested arrived in the form of a lone Protector who swooped from the sky, his emerald-green Propulsion Cloak marking his status as newly trained and assigned to the field.

“Officer Boreas reporting as requested.” The young protector turned awe-filled eyes upon Zoë— apparently, Jason saw, her bit of celebrity had some cachet among the younger Protectors on beat duty.

Jason grimaced. Officer Boring here didn’t seem the type inclined to think for himself. Great. The last thing Jason needed was an overeager Protector fresh from the Olympus training facility looking to score points with the Council.

Zoë ran her fingers through her hair, the only crack in her cool facade. “Take charge of the suspect,” she directed, nodding to the officer.

Boring did, first slapping binder cuffs on Jason so that his hands were captured in front of him, then tossing the lariat looped at his hip over him. The golden rope draped from Jason’s shoulder on one side to his hip on the other.

For good measure, Jason jerked against the binding, testing the power of the restraint. Despite the physical looseness, the immobility rope did its job. The lariat temporarily drained the power of any Protector wearing binder cuffs. A handy tool to prevent an arrested Protector from hightailing it away from the scene, bound wrists and all.

“Tell me what you did with the boy,” Zoë demanded again.

“Dammit,” Jason said. “I didn’t do it! Detain me all you want, but
start looking for Davy
!”

“Where?”
Zoë yelled back, her composure gone. Her eyes narrowed, and she got right in his face. Jason saw her fear, and that eased his anger. She wanted Davy back, too, and she was only doing his job. He reminded himself of that.

“You took Davy,” she continued. “You’re here, and that means that Davy is, too. We’ll find him eventually, so just tell us. Where ... is ... he?”

Jason took a deep breath and silently prayed Zoë would believe him. “That wasn’t me. That was a shape shifter.” He gestured with his chin toward her Council-issued glasses, knowing she had X-ray vision. “You can see past a shifter’s disguise, right? Didn’t you see who it really was?”

For the briefest instant, hesitation flashed in her eyes.

“Zoë?” Deena asked.

“I saw
you
,” Zoë whispered. “That’s all I saw.” But doubt laced her voice, and she turned to Boreas. “Call Olympus. I want every intelligence officer we’ve got analyzing possible locations for Hieronymous, and I want every possible theory about who might have taken the boy or why.”

Jason exhaled in relief and held up his wrists. “Tell Officer Boreas to unlock me. We can search while the Council checks up on Hieronymous.”

Zoë looked back at him, and her eyes flashed again. Yet she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t move to loosen the cuffs or remove the rope. Jason’s hope that she believed him disintegrated.

“Ma’am?” Officer Boreas prompted.

Zoë ignored his implied question, instead glancing at his pager. “Don’t you have some calls to make?” she asked. He nodded, then scurried to the far side of the pool to do so, apparently afraid Jason might overhear some top-secret information or something.

At the moment, Jason didn’t care where Boreas made his calls, just so long as they got made. He wanted every active-duty Protector on this case. If anything happened to Davy, he’d never forgive himself. And Lane sure as Hades wouldn’t either.

Lane.

He squinted, an idea forming. After a second, he realized Zoë and Deena were both staring at him, suspicion in their eyes. He kept his mouth shut. They thought he was the bad guy, so maybe playing up that role would prove useful.

“What?” Zoë asked.

He shrugged, spreading his hands as much as his binder cuffs would allow. “Not a thing. I’m just sitting here watching you and Officer Boring there chase your tails.” He leaned back against the railing, hoping he looked smug.

Zoë and Deena exchanged looks.

“He’s bluffing,” Deena guessed.

“Maybe,” Zoë said. She cast Jason another quick glance, then focused on her friend and changed the subject. “I don’t want to worry Lane, but we’ve got to tell her.”

Deena nodded, her lips pressed tight together. “She’ll want to know. And she won’t want to just sit and wait to hear from the Council about finding Davy. That’s not her style.”

“I know,” Zoë agreed.

Annoyed, Jason conjured a fake snort, then concentrated on twitching the corner of his mouth.

Zoë squinted at him. “You have something you want to share with the class?”

He shrugged. “I just hope you can get in touch with her. She might have things to do today. People to see.” He gave a thin smile, knowing he was digging himself in deeper and deeper. But he didn’t care. If this plan worked, it would be worth it. “Or maybe there are other people who
want to see her
.”

Zoë‘s eyes went wide with fear, and Jason felt a twinge of guilt for playing on her concern for the well-being of a friend. But he quashed the emotion. They had him in chains, and if this one little lie could help buy his freedom, he was more than happy to utter it.

It worked: Zoë turned and called for Boreas. The neophyte Protector trotted back, as anxious and eager to please as a puppy.

“Go with Deena and bring back Davy’s mom,” Zoë ordered. “And if you get even the slightest whiff of an Outcast hanging around her, beat him to a bloody pulp.”

Boreas nodded, looking much too pleased with himself. Then he looped his arm around Deena’s waist and took off, the rich green of his Propulsion Cloak in stark contrast to the vivid blue of the sky. Jason watched, trying to maintain a bland expression, even though he wanted to laugh with relief. They were bringing Lane—the one person in all the world who would never, ever believe that Jason would hurt his own son. Even if she were mad at him for disappearing, she wouldn’t think him a monster. She’d convince Zoë, Zoë would release him, and Jason would go kick some paternal Outcast butt.