by J. Kenner
Hale gaped as he waited for her to continue.
“Not anyone could persuade me to give up the belt. Even torturing me wouldn’t do it, although I guess Hieronymous didn’t know that.” She licked her lips. “Aphrodite was the goddess of love. I was only going to give the belt up to someone I loved.”
Hale frowned, then looked to Zephron for confirmation. The Elder nodded.
“It all makes sense,” Tracy continued. “Although I didn’t realize it until that Henchman couldn’t get it off me but I could take it off to give to you. I’d wanted to give it to you earlier, in the hotel bar. Something held me back. I wasn’t in love with you yet.” She smiled. “I was close. But I wasn’t there yet.”
Hale looked at Zephron, his eyes wide. “Then, you knew I’d fall in love with Tracy? Or that she’d fall in love with me?” The Elder shook his head. “No. I did not even know if that was how the belt truly worked. I told you, we did not have the full information. But I suspected. It was a risk, of course, sending you. Your ‘issues’ as you call them made you a questionable choice. But at the same time, I believed that you were ready to overcome them. You just needed the right woman. And I believed Ms. Tannin here not only had the belt, but was that woman.” He caught Hale’s eyes. “So I assigned you. And I hoped.”
“Hoped?” Tracy echoed.
“Yes, I admit to taking a risk.” He smiled at her, his eyes warm and caring. “Considering the outcome, it is a risk I’m glad I took.” His eyes moved between Hale and Tracy. “I wish you many happy years. Perhaps there will be a new halfling on the horizon soon . . .”
Children? Hale swallowed and tugged at his collar, the idea more appealing than he would have thought. And also more terrifying.
Tracy laughed and squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you get used to the idea of being in love with a mortal before we start planning kids.”
“Sweetheart, I didn’t fall in love with a mortal. I fell in love with Tracy Tannin.” He stroked her cheek, imagining himself holding her child . . . their child. He had to admit he liked the image.
Her smile zinged straight to his heart as she said: “And I didn’t fall in love with a superhero or a cover model. I fell in love with you.” Then she asked with a soft laugh, “So, do you think Elmer’s ready to be an uncle?”
Hale chuckled, hugging her close. “So long as he gets his vacation and occasional infusions of HBO, I think he’ll do just fine.”
Epilogue
Tracy laughed as Hale tugged at the bowtie around his neck. It was the first time she’d seen him in a tux, and when he’d walked into Tara-too’s private screening room, her first reaction was to melt at his feet. Her second was to rip it off him, forget the party, and stay in bed all night.
“Don’t laugh,” he growled. “I saw you yanking at your pantyhose earlier.”
“I hate the damn things. They must have been invented by men.” She aimed a pretend scowl his way. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
He moved closer, sweeping her into an embrace. “It’s Elmer’s big night. His acting debut. And you had the bright idea of throwing a party to celebrate his episode of Mrs. Dolittle.”
“I know that,” she said. “But why am I wearing pantyhose?”
Hale laughed. “The ferret has attitude. Since he’s wearing a tux, he insisted we dress up too.” He pulled back, his eyes roaming over her body. “I plan to thank him for it. You look stunning.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He bent her over his arm, planting a long, slow kiss on her lips.
“Without the belt, I’m just another girl.” Even in her awkward position, she managed a shrug. “And not even an average girl. Just plain old Tracy. Heck, Leon hasn’t even given me a second look.” Not that she wanted Leon’s eyes on her, but she had to admit that the belt had been nice for her ego.
“Believe me, sweetheart, there’s nothing plain about you. You’re beautiful—inside and out. I knew it from the first moment I saw you. Even though I fought like hell.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, you don’t need any other men looking at you. Your fiancé’s the jealous type. And a jealous superhero can be a dangerous thing.”
That’s one of the things she loved about Hale: he always knew the right thing to say. And he made her believe she was beautiful. “Have I told you today how much I love you?” she asked.
“Even if you did,” he said, “it bears repeating.”
“Break it up, you two.” Mel’s voice filtered into the room, followed by the click of her heels as she hurried in, a ferret on each shoulder. “The show starts in fifteen minutes.” Elmer—decked out in his own little tux and tiny sunglasses—started chittering as Hale pulled Tracy back to a standing position.
“What’s he saying?” she asked.
“That if we forget to tape the show, he’s going to disown both of us.”
Penelope chimed in.
“The same?”
“She just doesn’t want us to miss the beginning. This is Elmer’s big night, after all.”
Tracy looked at her watch. “We’ve still got a few minutes. Where’s Zoe and everyone?”
“The kitchen.” Mel glanced around the room at the catered buffet Tracy had ordered that afternoon. “All this, and Hoop wanted popcorn.”
Elmer jumped down to one of the seats and started tapping his paw. Penelope hopped down as well and snuggled up close. The show had taped two weeks before, and even in that short time, her delicate condition had become more apparent. Elmer, who’d developed some surprisingly gentlemanly qualities, scooted over to give her more room on the seat.
“Hey, hey. Let’s get this show on the road.” Hoop stormed in with Deena on his heels. Taylor and Zoe followed, with Lane and Davy bringing up the rear. Hoop aimed a smile toward Tracy and Hale. “Great party, you two. And Hale, congrats on your miraculous recovery.”
Tracy chuckled as Hale scowled, clearly clueless. “Recovery?”
“Your acute mortal-itis,” Taylor explained. “Looks like you’re cured.”
At that, Hale laughed, then pulled Tracy closer. “With this mortal, maybe. The rest of you losers I only put up with because my sister makes me.”
Zoe laughed. “I take the Fifth.”
“And we don’t believe you,” Lane added. “You’ve blown it now, Hale. We know the truth.”
Deena winked. “But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us.” Hale aimed a mock-stern glance toward them all, even as Elmer started hopping up and down, chittering away.
“What now?” Tracy asked.
“He says to shut up. We may have kept the world safe from Hieronymous, but he’s guest-starred in a television show.” Hale grinned. “Can’t argue with that.” A frown creased his forehead. “Of course, now he’s begging Marty to line him up a job in commercials. What do you think? Could Elmer endorse a line of clothing?”
Tracy tugged at his hand, ignoring the neurotic ferret. “Come here, mister.” She led him out of the room and into the hallway. “We still have five minutes before showtime, and there’s something I want to do.”
“I’m not sure we can do that in five minutes.”
She tried to ignore him, but couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. “Not that. This.” She hit ‘play’ on the jam-box she’d left by the door, and the low strains of Frank Sinatra singing “It Had To Be You” echoed through the hall. “Dance with me.”
Caressing her cheek, he smiled. “Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything at all.”
He swept her into his arms and they twirled on the floor in time with the music. Just the two of them, alone with the magic.
With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder. She’d finally made it. This was the dance she’d always fantasized about. With the man she’d fantasized about.
Only this time, it was a fantasy come true.
Keep reading for The “Super” Secret Life of an Accidental Daddy
The “Super” Secret Life of an Accidental
Daddy
1
Venerate Council of Protectors
1-800-555-HERO
www.WeProtectMortals.com
Protecting Mortals Is Our Business!
Official Business
Jason Murphy
Protector, Second Class
Marina del Rey, California
Greetings and Salutations:
A routine inspection of Protector Census Records reveals that you failed to file a Notice of Halfling Nascence contemporaneously with the birth of your halfling offspring. As you are aware, a Protector parent’s failure to register a halfling birth is grounds for expulsion from the Council, resulting in said Protector parent being Outcast. Pursuant to Regulation 42(F)(2)(iii), you are hereby officially notified of the default. Please correct this oversight by the anniversary of the halfling’s seventh birthday to avoid being Outcast and the requisite unpleasantries associated therewith.
Form 863(b)—Notice of Halfling Nascence—is enclosed for your convenience. Please note that the form must be signed by you and filed in triplicate. Alternatively, the form may be completed and submitted over the Council’s secure server. In either case, the signature and/or electronic identification of the mortal parent is not required. In an effort to strengthen mortal-Protector relations, however, the Council’s new official position (see Circular 87A) is that Protector parents should reveal their status as such, and their offspring’s status as halflings. While such disclosure is not required under the Mortal-Protector Treaty of 1970, it is encouraged. You are also encouraged to read Circular 87A and to visit the So You’ve Sired A Halfling page at the Council Web site, www.WeProtectMortals.com, for more information on raising a healthy, happy halfling.
In furtherance of a recently implemented effort to foster bonds between halflings and their Protector parents, we are enclosing Council Publication Numbers 1758-A(3), 2987-Z(9), and 4589(D)(2)(a), respectively titled “So You’re A Halfling! The Venerate Council: A Brief History in 1200 Pages,” and “Favorite Protector Tales—an Illustrated Board Book.”
As you are undoubtedly aware, halfling enrollment in Council-sponsored elementary school is both permitted and encouraged. Moreover, because of the genealogical issues and considerations surrounding your offspring—i.e. , the unfortunate existence of an Outcast grandfather—the Inner Circle of Elders has determined that such Council-sponsored education would be in the best interest of the child, particularly in light of your lack of direct involvement in the upbringing of your offspring. Accordingly, please deliver said offspring to the Olympus Elementary Facility, Principal’s office, prior to the seventh anniversary of the birth of the child. Your failure to deliver such offspring will result in the assignment of a Protector Retrieval Team to gather the child and deliver him safely to his new school. Of course, we highly recommend that you explain the necessity for removal of the offspring to the offspring’s mortal parent prior to such removal. In our experience, mortals tend to react badly to the unannounced disappearance of their offspring.
You are entitled to a hearing on the Circle of Elders’ decision regarding the education of your offspring. Please submit Form 234(D)(3), Request for Hearing, along with all necessary backup documentation, in triplicate, to the Office of Dispute Resolution. You will be notified of the assigned hearing date in due course. Considering the current backlog, please allow six to eight months before contacting the Council with inquiries as to the status of your request.
Thank you for your attention to this matter, and good luck in your continuing adventure in parenting.
Sincerely,
Phelonium Prigg
Phelonium Prigg
Recording Secretary, Inner Circle of Elders
jbk: PP enclosure
He was a dead man.
No question about it. Superpowers or not, the moment Jason told Lane that their son, Davy, was a halfling, she was going to have his head. And then, when he added the bit about how Davy needed to leave for boarding school halfway across the world in five days, she’d take his head, plunk it on a stake, and mount it in her front yard.
Not exactly the way he’d hoped to reunite with the mother of his child.
Scowling, he leaned up against the aquarium’s glass wall. Doing so was against the rules, of course, but right now he wasn’t in the mood to follow any rules—the Council’s or Sea World’s.
Throngs of kids poured through the Shark Encounter, whistling and pointing at the creatures that glided through the clear water all around. Jason watched them, his stomach twisting as he thought about his own little boy. He needed to go introduce himself to his son; he needed to make up for years of being away. What he didn’t need was to be cooling his heels here.
But Zephron himself had assigned Jason to this supposedly urgent mission at Sea World, and no one crossed the High Elder. Especially not a Second-Class Protector who’d screwed up big time seven years ago and let himself get trapped like a rat in a cage—or, more accurately, like a fish in an aquarium. And certainly not a Protector with a father who just happened to be a maniacal Outcast bent on enslaving the mortal population.
For the most part, Jason’s identity as Hieronymous’s son was a secret—Jason’s mother had seen to that. But even though the general membership of the Council didn’t know, its Inner Circle was fully aware of Jason’s parentage. It was a little fact they hadn’t hesitated to point out when Jason escaped a year ago and asked the Council for re-assignment.
He drummed his fingers on the thick glass of the aquarium wall, irritated. Maybe other young Protectors got a hearty “welcome back” when they escaped an Outcast’s clutches, but not him. Even though he’d flatly turned down Hieronymous’s demand to join forces, still the Inner Circle had given him that look—the one that suggested they were just waiting for him to chuck it all and go over to the Dark Side. He snorted; every time he thought about his father, Jason had an image of Darth Vader holding out his hand, imploring, “Luke . . . Luke . . .”
Really, the whole thing was ridiculous.
He wasn’t anything like Hieronymous. Sure, he’d made mistakes. He’d been a little freaked out when he first learned the truth about his parentage, and, yes, the timing had been unfortunate. He’d learned that his father was the ultimate Outcast on the same day that he’d learned his girlfriend Lane was pregnant. He’d freaked; he could admit that now. He’d feared that his blood really was bad. He’d feared the stigma that would be placed on his child. And he’d rushed off in a fit of testosterone and misplaced fatherly duty to foil the bad guy and reclaim his familial pride . . . .
Which would have worked beautifully if Hieronymous hadn’t captured him. As it was, he’d not only screwed up the mission; he’d left his son fatherless and deeply hurt the woman he loved—all things considered, not the outcome he’d been hoping for.
To add insult to injury, Hieronymous had somehow discovered their relation and invited Jason to join his merry band of Outcasts.
Jason hadn’t hesitated. He’d flatly refused and been willing to suffer Hieronymous’s wrath. But did the Elders believe him? Nope. They only saw a man who’d spent six years with the enemy. A man who shared Hieronymous’s bloodline. A man who surely wasn’t strong enough to have avoided corruption by his dynamic Outcast father.
They’d fidgeted and fussed in their bureaucratic way, none of them willing to come right out and say that his blood was bad. Instead, they’d called him a loose cannon. And then they’d backed up that assessment by pointing to some of Jason’s earlier missions.
“Renegade,” they’d said. “Failed to follow procedure.” And they’d tsk-tsk’ed and shaken their heads while Jason had silently seethed. Those missions had all been successes. So what difference did it make if he bent a few rules?
He frowned. Apparently, it made all the difference if your father was a notorious Outcast who’d held you captive for six years.
Damn them all, and damn himself for getting caught in the first place!
With a sigh, Jason c
asually scoped out the entire room: darkish but open, with only a few nooks and crannies. He squinted. With any normal bad guy, he’d assume the room was clean. With the diabolical Hieronymous, he couldn’t be so sure.
A metal trash can caught his eye, and he sneaked over, then yanked off the lid. Leaping backward, he ignored the curious glances from other Sea World patrons. Nothing happened.
Well, better safe than sorry. Not only were some Outcasts capable of shrinking to a quite diminutive size, Hieronymous’s technical know-how meant that he could easily have placed a bomb or some other remote-controlled gizmo in the can.
He rummaged through the trash, nodding politely at a tall brunette who grabbed her son firmly by the shoulders and steered him away.
Nothing. Well, nothing except some empty cups, a few plastic bags, and the leftover remains of a Pink Thing.
He groaned. This had hardly been a productive exercise, and now to top it off his hands were sticky. Great.
He moved back to the aquarium wall and banged his head against the glass. This was so not going well.
Bad day? Inside the tank, his buddy Lester glided forward. Jason had spent a lot of time here at Sea World and knew the shark well.
You could say that, he answered, speaking in a low frequency inaudible to human ears. Of course, his mouth moved a bit, but mortals never noticed—or if they did, they just assumed he was talking to himself and cut him a wide berth.
He gave the shark a quick rundown of the Council’s edict about Davy. Plus, I’ve spent the last eight hours primed to foil my father’s supposed plot to wreak havoc here. So far, no plot, no evil deeds, no nothing.
Major bummer, the shark said. Having lived the last ten years in a tank in San Diego, Lester had developed the speech patterns of a surfer dude. He eased in closer, his snaggle teeth gleaming as his snout tapped lightly against the glass. The nearby kids—and a couple of adults—shrieked and stumbled backward. Oh, man, the shark complained. I hate it when they do that.