by J. Kenner
Hale held up a hand to shut Elmer up, then ran it through his hair as he glared at his sister.
But—
“Zip it, Elmer. This is serious.”
But the sto—
“Elmer!”
Harumph! The little rodent glared, then pointedly turned his back. Well, fine. You can darn well let me know when you are ready to chat.
Hale rolled his eyes. Great. Now he had both a self-destructive sister and a pissed-off ferret. This was not turning out to be one of his better weeks.
He caught Zoe’s eye, and she just shrugged, a self-satisfied grin on her face.
Infuriating! He shot an angry glance toward the far side of the room, and the mirror over her writing table shattered. Zoe jumped, and Hale scowled, not in the mood to worry about keeping her furniture intact.
“Come on, Hale. It wasn’t like—”
“You promised me.”
“I never promised I wouldn’t have sex with a mortal.” Her eyes flashed, and he had to give the kid points for holding her own. “And you do it all the time.”
“That’s different,” he said.
Can I just interject about the sto—
“Elmer,” Hale yelled. “Hush!”
“How is it different?” Zoe asked.
“I don’t fall for them.” He quit glaring at Elmer to look at her tenderly. Dammit, she just didn’t get it. He wanted only to protect her. And he intended to do whatever that took—interfering ferrets, threatening big-brotherly looks, whatever—to make sure Zoe stayed safe. All of her. Body and heart.
She didn’t meet his eyes, looking instead at something just over his left shoulder. “I haven’t fallen for anybody. It was just a fling. To see if I could handle it.”
“And could you?”
She nodded, still not looking at him. Then she raised her head and her eyes shone clear, the blue and gray reflecting more than the light. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I handled it just fine.”
Oh, hell. She’d fallen even harder than he’d imagined. With a shake of his head, he sighed and dropped down onto the couch next to her, wishing he could figure out a way to talk her out of this little lust.
He took her hand and she gave him a watery smile. “So where is this mortal Casanova, anyway?”
“He left,” she said, tossing one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I told you. It’s no big deal.” But the tears she blinked back told a different story, and when he squeezed her hand, she squeezed back, but didn’t say anything more.
Elmer poked his head up. If I can say something here, Mr. High and Mighty, without getting my head bitten off, thank you very much—
“What?”
She thinks she’s protecting the mortal, keeping him safe in case she gets into another knock-down, drag-out.
“What are you talking about?” Hale turned to Zoe, cocking his head sideways toward Elmer. “What’s he talking about?”
“I don’t know. I don’t speak ferret.”
“Something about a knock-down, drag-out? What’s going on? What happened.”
“Just the tests. We were attacked.” She shrugged. “Well, I was, anyway. Taylor was inconveniently located in the cross fire.”
“Attacked? By who? When?” If Mordi hurt his sister, so help him, Hale would—
“Mordi, for one. But that wasn’t any big deal. And then some Henchmen.”
He almost spit out his beer. He’d been expecting the first part of her answer. The second part came as a shock. “You know about Henchmen?”
She held up a copy of So You’re a Halfling! “Chapter six. Taylor thought they were men.” Her face screwed up in disgust. “They were so not men.” She sighed. “These field tests are intense.”
Hale mumbled something noncommittal. The fact was, the tests were never supposed to be so dangerous, never this intense. This had Hieronymous written all over it.
Henchmen . . . Elmer shivered, then crawled back under his pillow.
“I thought it seemed pretty weird. Well, not so much just because we were attacked. I didn’t know what Henchmen were, then. But after I read the book . . .” She frowned.
Hale nodded absently, his mind swimming. All sorts of creatures roamed the earth in mortal guise, most unknown to mortals, seen as their true selves only by Protectors. And for centuries, the council had been tasked with locking in ancient catacombs those things that went bump in the night. When released, though, the creepy critters would do the bidding of whoever set them free.
“I think I understand how it works,” Zoe said. “Protectors can see these creatures’ true selves, right?”
Hale nodded.
“And since I’m a halfling, I’m just now starting to be able to do that.”
“Right. It’ll be strange for a while. You’ll start to see them all over the place, but you won’t always be able to fight them.”
She cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Might draw attention. They’re out there, more than you can imagine. Just wait. You’ll start to see them. Politicians, cabdrivers. The guy at the movie theater who never gives you the correct change. You can’t just take ’em out. Mortals wouldn’t understand.”
Zoe nodded, thoughtful. “Telemarketers?”
“Not as much as you’d think.”
“Hmmm.” She frowned. “So why am I being tested with Henchmen? It seems a little extreme of a start.”
He wished he could tell her. It would make this whole thing so much easier if he could just explain about the legend and the stone. His gaze drifted across the room, finally coming to rest on the ugly gold belt on the lamp shade.
It couldn’t be.
He sprang across the room and plucked it up, turning it this way and that.
“Cool, isn’t it?”
He couldn’t answer. How could the belt have made it into Zoe’s hands? Squinting, he examined it under the light, his hands shaking slightly. Then he noticed the flaking spots where the fake gold had worn off to the metal underneath. His shoulders sank. This belt was modern. Actually, it didn’t even look much like the real one.
Damn. So much for returning to the council in triumph with a missing artifact. This cheap rip-off wasn’t of any use at all.
Or was it? He cocked his head. If it were the real belt—Aphrodite’s girdle itself—it would make its wearer invincible, not to mention incredibly desirable.
But maybe even a fake belt could make his sister invincible to dangers of the heart.
It was certainly worth a try.
He quashed a tiny pang of guilt. This was for her own good, after all. She’d only get hurt seriously by the mortal. No matter how much she cared for this Taylor person, Hale was doing the right thing.
Zoe squinted at Hale, who was still holding Deena’s belt. “What are you doing?”
He waved the accessory in front of her face. “Do you know what this is?”
“A misguided attempt at fashion?”
He glared at her.
So much for levity. She tried again. “No. What is it?”
“Aphrodite’s girdle.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Zoe blinked. “The Aphrodite’s girdle?”
“Yup.”
Aphrodite’s girdle was the stuff of council legend, an ancient artifact with all sorts of mystical, magical powers. “Well, that’s it, then.” She smiled up at Hale. “My test must have been to protect the girdle.”
So maybe the tests were all over. Wouldn’t that be nice? As soon as Hale left, she could call Taylor and maybe get another date in before the council ruled on her application. She grazed her teeth along her lower lip, considering.
Maybe even work up the nerve to confess the truth . . .
Hale cocked his head, studying her. Then he smiled, as though he’d just found the missing piece of a puzzle.
“What?”
“Were you wearing it last night?”
“The belt? Sure.”
“Wel
l, that explains it.”
She had no idea what he was talking about it. “Explains what?”
“The mortal, of course.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You wanna try again? I’m not following.”
“What do you know about the girdle?”
She considered. “Well, it’s pretty darn ugly with the wrong outfit, and it belonged to our ancestor, and it’s been missing for hundreds of years.” She shrugged. “That’s about all.”
“So you don’t know about its powers? How it works?”
“Well, it’s called a girdle. The only power that springs to mind is tummy control.”
“Zoe—”
“Sorry. I know it has powers, but I don’t know exactly what.”
“Desire.”
“Excuse me?”
“It makes the wearer irresistible to anyone she desires.”
Not a bad trick. “Well, that’s pretty cool. Boy, if some marketing firm couldn’t make a mint off of—”
She looked at him as understanding dawned. “Taylor,” she whispered.
His forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” For some reason her brain had ceased to function. She stood up, running her fingers through her hair as she paced in front of him. “This belt?” Zoe plucked it out of his hand. “You’re saying this ugly gold thing made Taylor wild with lust for me?”
“That’s what the belt does,” Hale said. “Why do you think the council’s so keen on finding it again? Surely not because of some retro-fashion resurgence.” He smiled, probably trying to make her feel better. It didn’t work.
“I thought he liked me.” She sank down, sitting on the couch’s armrest. “I mean, I really, really thought he liked me.”
He wrapped an arm around her. “I’m sorry, Zo. I really am. But isn’t it better to know now?”
Was it? She didn’t know. She just felt numb.
She sat there, empty and hollow. And then a tiny bit of hope flared. “But what about the first time we met? I didn’t have the belt then.” Not in the library. Not when sparks were flying from the mere brush of his fingers.
Hale’s eyes darted away and he turned to pace the room. After a moment he stopped, his shoulders sagging. “The thing is, I’m not saying that you don’t want him. I’m saying it’s only the belt that makes him want you back.” His eyes met hers briefly before turning back down toward the carpet.
“But . . . but . . .” Tears welled in her eyes and she knew she sounded like a blubbering fool. Her brother dropped down next to her on the sofa and slipped his arm around her. The touch did nothing. It was just pressure, and she idly realized that—slowly but surely—she was gaining complete sensual control. Under the circumstances, though, she wasn’t exactly inclined to celebrate. “What about when he came to my house?” she asked, desperate to grasp on to even a shred of hope that he really liked her.
Hale squinted. “When was that?”
“The day you got to town. He’d been sitting across the street in his car. I saw him, and he said he’d come to ask me out.” She twisted her sweatshirt in her fingers. “That he couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
“Oh. Well. Hmmm.” Hale got up and started pacing the room. “Listen, kid, I don’t want to hurt you. Really I don’t. I only told you about the belt in the first place for your own good. You know that, right?”
She nodded, absolutely positive that Hale would never hurt her.
“The thing is, he probably is at least a little attracted to you. I mean, you may be my sister, but the fact is, a guy would have to be blind . . .”
“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly feeling the exact opposite. If she had to have the belt to get Taylor . . .
“So he probably did think you were hot, but since he was hiding and spying and everything before, don’t you think that maybe he was working? You said he was a detective.”
“He told me he wasn’t there looking for Emily.”
“And you believed him?”
She didn’t answer, just swallowed. Had she been a fool? He knew where she lived, and he hadn’t tried to ask her out before she caught him. He’d jumped on her flimsy excuse that she had a boyfriend. Sure, he flirted with her a bunch, but he hadn’t wanted to take her to the party—and it had taken all of Hoop’s and her cajoling to get him to agree. Only when she was dressed to the nines and decked out in the belt had he suddenly found her irresistible.
A stupid tear spilled down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. She looked up at her brother, unsure what to say, wanting something, but not knowing what.
Immediately he sat down beside her. “Hey, it’s not like anything was going to come of this, right?”
She nodded. All along she’d known it wouldn’t—couldn’t—last. But some tiny part of her had still foolishly hoped.
Maybe it was better to know now. The closer she got to Taylor, the more it would hurt when she told him the truth—when she joined the council and he walked away.
“And besides,” Hale continued. “This way you can concentrate on the rest of your tests.”
She exhaled, trying to focus on her real problems. “More tests? You don’t think I’m through?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
She sighed. “Do you think they might send more Henchmen after me?”
Hale nodded, and Zoe’s insides turned cold. It was a cold of terror, but also of understanding. She’d made a decision. She wasn’t sure when she’d made it; it had been brewing in her gut for a while. The Henchmen just drove it home. More than just wanting to belong, more than not wanting to lose Hale and her father, she wanted to join the council to fight this evil that invaded the world and risked the lives of the people she loved.
She thought of Taylor and that bullet in his thigh. She thought of Tessa, who so wanted her to be normal, but also wanted her to be happy. She thought of Hoop and Deena and the little boy in the street. And then she thought of Taylor again, always Taylor. Even if he didn’t really love her—oh, Hera help her—she loved him with all her soul. Loved all of them, and wanted to keep them safe.
She took a deep breath and made up her mind. She needed to tell Tessa and sign her affidavit.
And she had to do it soon.
19
Taylor whistled as he maneuvered Francis Capra down Ventura Boulevard. What a great day. What a glorious, wondrous, fabulous day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and even the smog had thinned out, giving him a stunning view of the mountains at the far side of the valley.
He zipped through the light at Coldwater and hooked a left, heading into the canyon and back toward the west side. Time to jump-start Mr. Mordon’s little assignment. If someone else wanted him to find that gemstone, then dammit, that was exactly what he was going to do. Find it, hand it over to Mordon, and cut himself loose from the hounds of hell that had decided to stalk him.
Once Mordon had his rock back, those thugs would bother someone else, and Taylor could head back to Zoe, which was exactly where he wanted to be.
He punched the speakerphone and dialed the office, humming a little as he waited for Hoop to pick up.
“Yo. I mean, Investigations. Can I help you?”
Taylor chuckled. “It’s me. Yo works fine.”
Hoop exhaled into the phone. “Damn, but we need a full-time secretary. I’m lousy at this.”
“Yeah, well, you get the job for a few more minutes. I need you to call a florist for me.” He remembered Zoe’s allergies. “No. Make that a candy store.” He remembered the way she’d avoided anything chocolate at the party. “Aw, hell, never mind. I don’t have a clue what to send her.”
“I take it the evening went well.”
Oh, yeah. “She’s fabulous. I’m crazy about her.”
“Zoe’s a great kid.”
Taylor tapped the brakes, slowing as he approached a red light. “Lane’s never going to let me hear the end of it, though.”
“What’s
Lane got to do with your love life?”
“I told her I wanted a normal girl. No added color in my life.”
Hoop snorted. “Zoe’s a librarian. How much more normal can you get.”
“That’s what I thought.” He drummed his fingers on the gear shift, trying to get a handle on the little oddities that had been niggling at him. “But there’s some color there, too.”
“Oh?”
“I don’t get it. The girl’s a magnet for weirdness. The first time I met her, I swear she was psychic—how else could she have heard me pawing through Emily’s desk? And that stunt when she landed on the hood of my car—I mean, those kind of gymnastics would put Dorothy Hamill to shame.”
“Hamill’s an ice skater.”
“Whatever. And I swear the guy in the Ferrari just disappeared. But she kept on talking to him.”
“What guy?”
“Never mind. Not important. There’s just all that, plus the cretins at the party, and the fake cop—who shimmered, by the way—”
“Shimmered?”
“—and on top of all that, man-oh-man, that woman can run!” He took a breath, realizing he was falling over his words. “And it’s all incredibly odd stuff, but none of it bothers me in the least. It’s her I’m interested in. And, Hoop, I am so very, very interested.”
“So then just forget about the rest. Trust me. The weird stuff isn’t what’s important. My best friend married a cat and it didn’t mess his life up any.”
“Say again? There must have been static. I thought you said cat.”
“Nothing. My point is that even normal people have quirks. I mean, hey, look at me.”
Taylor laughed. “Now you’re making me nervous.”
“So? You want me to order chocolates?”
“Nah. I’ll figure something out. Thanks for the free advice.”
“You get what you pay for.”
He hung up, grinning, as his fingers tapped a rhythm on the steering wheel. A few miles later, he realized he was smiling. Well, why not? He’d just spent the best night of his life with the most fascinating woman he’d ever met—warm and sweet and genuine.