by J. Kenner
“You’re not sleeping anywhere but my bed, mister. Those are the rules.” She planted a light kiss on his cheek.
He tightened his grip around her waist. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules.” Their eyes caught, and he remembered all over again why he loved her.
“Uh, people?” Hale’s voice broke through Taylor’s Zoe-induced haze. “I came here to find out what you learned while I was watching Tracy. Can we get to work and desist with the public displays of affection?”
“It’s our house,” Zoe murmured. “It’s not public at all.”
“Then desist with the private displays, too,” Hale said, shimmering as he materialized again. “Call me crazy, but I thought that since you folks called yourselves private investigators, you might have done a little investigating.”
“We call ourselves investigators?” Hoop asked, to no one in particular. “Damn. And here I thought we called ourselves psychic crime fighters.”
Deena groaned and threw a gamepiece at him. He just laughed as it bounced harmlessly off his head.
“My brother’s getting surly,” Zoe said, her voice dreamy against Taylor’s ear. “And Hoop’s getting goofy.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Taylor murmured back. Hale’s exasperated sigh echoed through the room, and Taylor and Zoe laughed.
“Guess it’s time to give him the full report,” Taylor said.
Finally! Whenever Zoe and Taylor got lost in that mush-zone, Hale wondered if he would ever manage to yank them out of it. Part of him even envied them, but that wasn’t something he particularly wanted to think about. Especially since Tracy Tannin’s face kept popping into his head.
He’d gone to that lot solely to familiarize himself with the girl in case they were right and she’d inherited the belt. She hadn’t been wearing it. And while that certainly didn’t mean anything, now he found himself thinking about her at the oddest moments. Worse, he found himself thinking that if she didn’t have the belt—and if the mission ended up calling for no interaction between him and Tracy Tannin—he was going to be sorely disappointed. Especially since the adorable mortal might just prove to be the cure for his recent lack of interest in the female of the species.
Right now, though, he just needed to know what Taylor had discovered. “Anytime this year would be good,” he said, scowling at his brother-in-law who was still cuddling Zoe.
Taylor kissed Zoe’s ear, then slid her off his lap. “Let’s go calm down your brother,” he said. Taking her hand, he tugged her into the living room toward the couch, the pair looking perfectly comfortable together. Two halves of a whole. The unexpected thought cast a wave of melancholy over Hale, and he cringed. Just because he’d never experienced that kind of closeness didn’t mean he needed to start feeling all mushy. He was here on a job, and once it was over he could get back to his vacation and do a little female grazing. Somehow, some way, he’d get himself back into the groove.
“Okay, brother mine,” Taylor said, as he moved to the computer hutch. Hale got a glimpse of the monitor as Taylor sat down in the desk chair. The Venerate Council’s “News In Brief” page was up. The council had its own Web site, with a stellar search engine that accessed all sorts of supposedly inaccessible files. Being a superhero only went so far. They were living in an information age, after all, and crime-fighting superheroes needed all the information they could get. Taylor wasn’t a Protector, of course, but considering he was partnered with Zoe, Zephron had given him permission to access the site. Apparently Taylor had been using the search engine, and Hale could see the large point headlines from across the room:
Mortal-Protector Treaty talks continue. Controversy rages! Click here for point/counterpoint!
Rumors abound—Has Aphrodite’s Girdle been found? Follow this link for the latest news and commentary.
All Protectors with undercover assignments in the mortal world are required to complete Form 789~A(5)—Statement of Undercover Operations—and to file same with the Mortal-Protector Liaison Office. Click here to download applicable forms and instructions.
Hale made a mental note to get his Form 789 in on time as he waited for Taylor to quit rummaging through the papers on his desk.
“Okay,” Taylor said. “Listen to this.” He held up a computer print-out and started reading. “Beloved silent film star . . . blah, blah . . . survived by her granddaughter, Tracy Tannin . . . yadda, yadda . . . Okay, here we go—Tracy inherited the house and everything else.”
That Tracy had been the only real beneficiary was excellent. Spending some quality time with the woman was something he could handle just fine—and now she was even more entrenched as their primary lead. “This means that if Tahlula still had the belt when she died, now it’s Tracy’s.”
“Right-o,” Taylor agreed.
“I take it Tracy wasn’t wearing the belt this afternoon,” Zoe said.
“Nope,” Hale agreed. “Besides, if she were, it would have shown up on the tracking device. According to Zephron, it hasn’t blipped again.”
“So, we don’t know for sure that Tracy has it,” Zoe said.
Unfortunately, Zoe was right. He looked at Taylor. “So what’s our next step, Mr. Investigator?”
“Way ahead of you.” Taylor tapped a few more keys as Zoe wandered over. Hoop and Deena stayed put in front of their game. Lane got up, but as soon as she did, Zoe turned to her.
“You might as well go check on him,” she said.
Lane’s shoulders sagged. “I just got him put down. What’s up now?”
“He is. Or he will be.”
Lane’s mouth twisted. “You’re sure?”
“You know that little noise he makes before he wakes up with a nightmare?”
“He’s making it?”
“Sorry. You want me to go check on him?”
Lane just shook her head. “No thanks. It’s all part of mommy duty. You’ll get there soon enough.”
Hale’s stomach tightened, and he examined his sister’s face, wondering if . . .
“Quit fretting,” she said to Hale as she noticed his expression. “Not now. But hopefully someday.”
Surprisingly, Hale realized he was slightly disappointed. Maybe he wasn’t ready for fatherhood—or even husbandhood—but unclehood might be fun.
“Hale?” Zoe squinted at him. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said, his voice gruff. Hopping Hades, what was wrong with him? “So what have you got in mind?” he demanded, glaring at Taylor.
“You move in,” the mortal said.
Hale balked. “Excuse me?”
“I said—”
“Move in?” Hoop interrupted. “Why not just let Superjock play the invisible man?” he asked, twirling a Risk game-piece between his fingers. “He can snoop all around her place and no one will be the wiser.”
Hale wasn’t too keen on the Superjock nickname, and he shifted his glare from Taylor to Hoop.
“What? You can’t do that? You guys got Protector police or something?” Hoop asked.
“There’s that whole treaty thing,” Deena answered. “They’re not allowed to break into someone’s house and start rummaging through their things.” She cocked her head, then looked from Zoe to Hale. “Are you?”
“No.” Hale agreed, half-wishing they were allowed. He turned back to Taylor. “What did you mean I move in?”
Taylor pointed to the monitor, which Hale couldn’t see from his perch on the hutch. “Today’s classified ads. Tracy’s looking for a roommate. Move in, and suddenly you’re all set to form that strong, devoted bond of Mortal-Protector friendship that Zephron told you and Zoe about.” Taylor paused. “And that I know you’re so looking forward to.”
Hale scowled at Taylor, sure his brother-in-law was being sarcastic, but the mortal just smiled innocently. “Not happening,” Hale said.
“The bond, or the moving in?”
“The moving in,” Hale said. “For the good of the mission, I’ll get the girl to bond with me. I’ll
make that connection. I’ll do whatever it takes to persuade her. But believe me, I don’t need to move in to do that.”
“Uh-huh.” Taylor’s voice was dubious.
“She only has to bond with me,” Hale said. “Not me with her.” Which was fortunate, since he didn’t intend to share any sort of emotional bond with a mortal. The fact that he’d become friends with these mortals was simply a testament to how much he loved Zoe. And his sister’s little in-crowd of mortals was unique, anyway. Hale put up with them, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly opening his arms to the friendship of the whole mortal population.
He couldn’t keep the kind of distance he wanted if he was living on top of her. Not that being on top of her would be all that unpleasant, but that wasn’t his mission. No, for some inexplicable reason, Zephron had picked Hale to befriend the mortal. To make nice with the girl, get her to trust him, and then persuade her to give up the belt.
Still, Zoe and Taylor were probably right. Moving in would help. But Hale just couldn’t stomach it. Eating breakfast together and sharing the living room television . . . well, those were intimate moments. Getting-to-know you moments. Exactly the kind of moments Hale had no in interest in having with a mortal. “Ah, hell,” he muttered, letting his head fall back against the sofa. He’d never thought he was wrong for a mission before, but what had Zephron been thinking?
“Not that I’m agreeing with my brother’s logic,” Zoe said, looking from him to Taylor, “but we don’t even know that Tracy has the belt. It would probably be premature for him to try and be her roomie.”
“Exactly,” Hale said, latching on to the excuse. “The belt only blipped on the monitor. We don’t know who has it. It’s probably Tracy, sure, but it could just as easily be in a box at the Salvation Army.”
“Any reason why we don’t just ask her if she has the belt?” Deena wondered aloud. “And if she does, then just ask her to hand it over.” She looked from Hale to Zoe to Taylor in turn. “I mean, unless there’s a rule, shouldn’t you try that first?”
Hale turned to look at his sister’s friend more directly. One thing he’d learned about Deena: she always said what was on her mind. “Let’s say I ask her for the belt. If she does have it, she’s not going to want to give it up. For one, it belonged to her grandmother. For another, Zephron explained about how she’ll want to keep it. What do I do if she says no?”
Deena shrugged. “Seduce her, I guess. Isn’t that right up your alley?”
It was, though after Bitsy, Hale had been a little worried. Not that he intended to explore his concerns with Deena. Instead, he just said, “If I’ve already asked her for it, and then I seduce her, she’ll assume I’m only after the belt.”
“And she’ll be right,” Hoop piped up.
“Oh.” Deena gnawed on her lower lip. “Well, you could tell her the truth.”
“Oh, yeah. That’d go over big.” He looked over to where Elmer was asleep on a chair. “Hey, Elmer. You listening to this?”
A pair of sleepy ferret eyes blinked up at him. What? Listening to what?
Hale didn’t explain. “Let’s see how this would go over, shall we?” He nodded from Deena to Elmer. “Pretend Elmer’s Tracy.” He stood up straighter and said in his most polite voice, “Hi, Tracy. You don’t know me, but my name’s Hale. I’m a superhero. Do you happen to own an ugly belt that’s been imbued with magical powers by Aphrodite? You do? Well, I’m here to take it off your hands.”
Elmer yawned. You’re insane. All of you. I can’t believe you woke me up for this.
“So, what’s he saying?” Deena asked.
“He’s calling 911 to have me committed.”
Deena opened her mouth—probably to argue—but then just nodded. “Okay. So maybe telling the truth isn’t the best idea.”
“Maybe not,” Hale agreed, as he tried unsuccessfully to grab hold of an idea that was brewing in the back of his mind. “Although the seduction part might be fun.” That, of course, was an understatement. Especially since he had an inkling that the intriguing Miss Tannin just might be the woman to pull him out of his funk.
Taylor snorted, but didn’t say anything.
“What?” Hale asked.
Taylor shrugged. “I just think it’s a little odd that a man who considers mortals so far beneath him spends his spare time seducing them.”
His eyes met Hale’s, and Hale decided that maybe the man had taken offense to his past mortal-bashing. At least a little.
The P.I.’s perceptive, you know, Elmer chittered, crawling up onto the back of the sofa and letting his legs hang down over the cushions.
“I like women,” Hale explained. “Mortal. Protector. I just like women.”
“Uh-huh. Are you sure there isn’t something else going on?”
“Taylor . . .” Zoe put her hand on her husband’s arm.
“Like what?” Hale asked, ignoring her. He was surprised to hear this from Taylor, but he wanted it out in the open.
“Like maybe you’re scared to hang around longer than a night. Afraid that if you stay with any one woman too long, you’ll start to feel that mortals aren’t so bad after all. Or is it that you’re afraid if you fall for one, you’ll have a weak spot? Your very own Achilles’ heel. After all, Achilles was probably your seventy-fifth cousin twice removed, right? If you fell for a mortal, suddenly you’d be vulnerable. Because if she gets put in danger because of you—
Taylor shrugged. “Sometimes it’s just easier to keep your distance.”
“Sweetheart . . .” Zoe shook her head.
“Just calling it like I see it,” he said.
Hale’s fingers itched to wipe the smug look off his brother-in-law’s face, but he had to admit that the thought of Tracy in danger made his stomach twist. Still, just because he cared about one girl’s well-being didn’t mean he was suddenly desperate to feel something romantic. It didn’t work that way. He was a Protector. He protected. Mortals needed protecting. That was all.
After a few deep breaths, the blood quit pounding in his ears. With supreme effort, he managed to sound calm and rational when he answered. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy.”
For a second, he thought Taylor was going to argue; instead, the man shrugged. “Fine. Whatever you say.”
“Thank you.”
“Since you’re not worried, then you should have no problem moving in with Ms. Tannin, getting the belt and saving the world.”
Great. They’d come back full circle to the roommate idea. “She might not even have the thing,” Hale protested weakly. “And there’s no point in me moving in if the belt’s at Big Bob’s Flea Market.”
“So find out for sure,” Taylor said. “But if you aren’t certain by the end of the day tomorrow, then see about moving in before someone else does and we lose that angle altogether. If it turns out she doesn’t have it, you can just move out.” He focused on Hale’s eyes. “Unless you think you can’t handle living that close to a mortal. I mean, I know all you superheroes have a few weaknesses . . .”
Hale scowled as Taylor trailed off. He’d walked right into this one, and now he was stuck. Stuck with Tracy under one roof.
“It’s perfect,” Deena said.
Hale opened his mouth to argue, but couldn’t find the words. Unfortunately for him, moving in made some sense. Tracy Tannin was a woman and their best lead. Tracy needed a roommate. And Hale was nothing if not experienced in getting what he wanted from women.
Conjuring a smile, he glanced around the room, then at Zoe. They all thought this was funny, did they? Him being saddled with a mortal roommate. Well, let them laugh.
“Fine. Unless we find out for sure by tomorrow night that the belt’s somewhere else altogether, I’ll see about moving in.”
He was strong; he could do this. Heck, he was a Protector First Class. A superhero. A direct descendent of Zeus. An experienced lover and a master of women. He could live with a mortal. For the mission, he could suck it up and do it.
&
nbsp; And the only thing that made him the tiniest bit nervous was just how much he was anticipating sharing close quarters with the likes of Tracy Tannin.
5
Barring the brief interlude with the anonymous stranger, Tracy’s evening had continued in the tiger-poop vein. Apparently her life was destined to be little more than large blocks of mortification occasionally broken up by brief stints of lust and longing.
A bummer, but so far she’d learned to live with it.
After the stranger had left, Tracy’s day had managed a nosedive from its new high all the way back down into the Guinness Book of Terrible Days, culminating in a run-in with her ex-boyfriend, Walter the Worm, who hadn’t even recognized her. Granted, it had been four years. Also granted, she’d had the frizzy perm from hell when they’d broken up. But that didn’t change the fact that her face was exactly the same—a face that, apparently, was entirely unmemorable.
Except for one bright spot with the stranger, it had been a truly sucky day all around.
Now, Tracy was camped out in her attic, trying to forget. Her whole life she’d had two favorite places to hide when things weren’t going well—her grandmother’s attic and the ocean. Today, she’d opted for home, and as she sat cross-legged on the floor, a steaming cup of coffee within arm’s reach and boxes of her grandmother’s memorabilia surrounding her, the day’s bad mood started to melt away.
Missy wandered through the attic, her toenails clicking on the flooring as she sniffed and resniffed each and every box.
“Those are just for your nose, little girl. Don’t go marking any territory up here.”
Missy whined, but hopefully intended to obey. Not for the first time, Tracy wondered if her grandmother’s death wasn’t as hard on Missy as it was on her. After all, Missy had been Tahlula’s pride and joy. Surely the dog missed her as much as Tracy did.
Keeping an eye on the little fluffball, Tracy pulled the first box between her legs. She’d promised the curator of the Los Angeles Film Museum that she’d donate some of her grandmother’s souvenirs for an upcoming exhibit called Goddesses of the Silver Screen. Since Tahlula Tannin was one of the first huge Hollywood stars, the curator was hot to get some of her belongings.