by J. Kenner
“Uh-huh.” The side of his mouth twitched.
“Okay. Fine. Maybe I’m a little overprotective, but that just comes with the territory. I mean, I’ve been solely responsible for Davy since the day he was born.” Heck, even before, considering that Jason had left at the negative seven-and-a-half month mark. “Davy means everything to me. If something happened to him, I’d—”
Aaron’s mouth closed over hers, effectively shutting her up. His tongue, warm and possessive, sought entrance, and she relaxed, giving in to the pleasure of being held by a man. She closed her eyes, her body limp and ready for the sweet tingling sensation.
Nothing. Just a warm, gentle touch. Demanding, yes. Sensual, absolutely. But stirring? Sadly, no.
Well, damn.
With each kiss, she’d hoped . . . and with each kiss, she’d been sorely disappointed. Stifling a sigh, she opened her eyes, peering at Aaron from under her lashes as she gently broke away. His eyes opened, soft and dreamy, and he smiled. She smiled back, flattered and sad at the same time. But still hopeful. She was distracted, that was all. He’d surprised her. And didn’t the experts say that stuff about rockets and bells was just a fairy tale anyway?
Except she knew better. She’d had fireworks. Wonderful, explosive fireworks. Amazing pyrotechnics that had sizzled all the way down to her toes.
But the man who’d set off those rockets had left. Not exactly a testimonial for the lasting power of passion.
Aaron stroked her cheek, his smile full of promise, as the waiter delivered their drinks. “Davy’s fine,” he assured her. “You said yourself that Zoe would never let anything happen to him.”
Lane nodded. True enough. That was one of the benefits of having a superhero for a sister-in-law: ultraresponsible child-care.
Of course Davy was fine. She was just being silly. With Zoe, there was no doubt. After all, her kid was with a superhero. Really, you couldn’t get much safer than that.
2
The storm whipped into a frenzy. Lightning crackled across the sky, thunder shook the buildings, and the wind blew cups, napkins, and plastic shopping bags around like so many leaves on an autumn afternoon.
Automatically, Jason’s gaze went to Davy. Zoe was right beside him, talking to a blond mortal while she pulled a child-sized Windbreaker out of her backpack and urged Davy into it. Jason had seen the blonde before with Lane, and now he searched both women’s faces. Neither looked concerned. Or, rather, they didn’t look concerned about anything other than keeping dry. All of which confirmed Jason’s assumption that Zoe wasn’t on duty. She was simply here with his son.
Zephron must not have realized that the boy was going to be around. If he’d known, he would have sent a Protector other than Jason here. Council Directive 827B made perfectly clear that Protectors were not to be assigned to any mission in which their offspring or mate were in danger. Which made sense, Jason supposed. A distracted Protector could end up botching his mission. Or worse.
His jaw tightened. He’d screwed up once before; he didn’t intend to do so again.
His cloak flapped around him, catching on the wild wind as he twisted, his eyes scouring the park for Hieronymous.
Nothing. No sign of the big, bad wolf anywhere. Yet he knew his father was involved in the storm.
A bolt of lightning cut the sky only inches from him, reaching down to split a tree with its finger of fire. The air hummed in its wake, making Jason’s skin tingle and his hair stand on end. Around him, his cloak seemed to sag and fizzle. Looking down, Jason realized its invisibility shield was short-circuiting, leaving him visible to anyone who might glance up to the top of this building. He banged the heel of his hand against his forehead in frustration: he should have known better than to take a cloak that was still in beta-testing.
At the moment, though, that was a small worry. He had more important things to be concerned about. He reached for his holo-pager, this time actually turning it on. He set the dial for Council Dispatch, and almost immediately the operator appeared.
“Go ahead.”
“Jason, Protector Second Class. I have a level-two incident brewing. Backup requested.”
“Backup informed and en route. Over,” the dispatcher responded.
Jason clicked off, clinging tight to his perch with one hand as he used his binocs to search for any signs of Hieronymous, his band of Outcasts, or even the monstrous Henchmen that Hieronymous was prone to send out to do his mischief. Again, nothing. Just a freak storm that—according to Jason’s gut, at least—wasn’t freak at all. Surely he wasn’t wrong?
You better get over here, Shamu called. Despite the urgency in the whale’s voice, Jason smiled, happy to know his instincts weren’t failing him. Now, the whale added.
Roger. He wrapped his cloak tight around himself, preparing to jump down. Beneath him, the Sky Tower shifted, and he heard a child cry out. The tower tilted precariously and a cacophony of screams filled the air. The tower was also a ride, and it was now swaying back and forth—the terrified cries of the people inside growing as the tower looked ready to crash into the ground.
Jason glanced around, his mind sorting through possible ways to steady the pitching tower even as he searched the skies for his backup. No one. He glanced down, prepared to recruit Zoe’s aid. But what he saw made his heart almost stop beating. Or, rather, what he didn’t see.
No Zoe.
No Davy.
Even the blonde was gone.
All that remained in the small enclosure was a child-sized yellow Windbreaker—torn, forlorn, and dejected on the the park’s wet pavement.
“Zoe! Zoe, wake up!”
Deena’s voice, high-pitched and bordering on hysterical, filtered through the haze in Zoe’s brain. She groaned, the only sound she could manage.
“Zoe?” Deena peered into her face, forehead creased with concern.
Her muscles screamed in protest, but Zoe tried to push herself up to a sitting position—only to realize that her wrists were behind her back, rather inconveniently tied to her ankles. She blinked, then blinked again, willing the world to come back into focus. “Davy,” she mumbled, her eyes opening wide as the import of her words struck her. “Where’s Davy?”
Deena shook her head, her eyes reflecting the fear that was fast consuming Zoe. “I don’t know. I came to just before you did.”
“Davy!” Zoe shouted. “Davy! Are you out there? Davy!”
No answer. Zoe took deep, even breaths, trying to stay calm and rational, to let her training kick in, even though all she wanted to do was scream hysterically.
She took another five deep breaths. “What in Hades happened?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
“Thomone thnuck up on uth, I gueth,” Deena said. She wasn’t quite as trussed up as Zoe, and at the moment she was gnawing away at the ropes binding her wrists.
“Hieronymous,” Zoe whispered, tugging at her own restraints. Every time Zoe blinked, Uncle H seemed to be doing something evil.
“We don’t know that,” Deena said, lifting her head. “Maybe we were just plain, old-fashioned mugged.”
“And tied up like this?” Zoe asked, using all her strength to urge her hands and ankles apart, willing the rope to fray. No luck. She exhaled, exhausted from the effort. “I don’t believe it. Too many coincidences. Davy missing. Us knocked out—”
“And some sort of magic rope, I guess,” Deena said, nodding toward her. “I mean, if you can’t get free . . .
Zoe just nodded. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell Deena that her powers had gone utterly wonky. “The storm, too,” she said instead. “I don’t think it’s really a storm.”
A burst of lightning illuminated their tiny prison, the glow seeping in through tiny cracks in the metal walls around them. A clap of thunder soon followed, and those walls shook angrily. Zoe cringed, hoping Davy had run inside somewhere, safe from the inclement weather.
“This isn’t a storm?” Deena said. “Trust me, Zo. It is.”
“
I mean it’s not a natural storm,” she clarified.
“Hieronymous can control the weather?”
Zoe shook her head. “I didn’t think so. That’s what makes it all the more scary. Weather control’s a pretty rare talent. And unless he hid it from the Council for years, it’s not in Hieronymous’s skill set.”
Because of their past run-ins, Zoe considered herself well briefed on what Hieronymous could and couldn’t do. He had an amazing power of invention and a natural affinity for all things technical. He also had the Midas touch in investments, and he’d amassed a substantial fortune by trading in companies run by the mortals he so despised. But his superpowers weren’t up to this. Which meant . . .
“He made a weather machine,” Zoe said, voicing her guess. “Either that or he’s recruited a new Protector to do his dirty work. A powerful one.”
“Either way,” Deena said, “it sounds like he’s back to being a bad guy.”
Zoe nodded. Not that Hieronymous had ever stopped. Yet months had passed without a peep from the notorious Outcast leader.
It had been an interesting few months, with the Council focusing on other troublesome Outcasts. Hieronymous, it seemed, wasn’t the only one with delusions of grandeur. He was, however, the most notorious—so Zoe had been surprised when Zephron told her that her uncle was vacationing on an island somewhere. Apparently, he’d done enough work on his tan; now he’d returned to wreak havoc once more on the world of mortals.
“But why?” she asked. “Every time he’s popped up in the past, he’s wanted something particular. What does he want now?”
“Davy?” Deena guessed.
Zoe shot her friend a nasty look. “That’s not even funny.” There was no reason on earth why the Outcast boss would want a mortal six-year-old. “Davy’s probably right where we left him, wondering where the heck we went off to.”
“Duh!” Deena said. “We are so stupid! I forgot about your X-ray vision. I’ll just pull your glasses off and you can look outside. Maybe he’s sitting right there.”
Zoe swallowed. “Right,” she said. “No problem.” She held her breath, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem but knowing it probably would.
Deena scooted toward Zoe on her rear end, digging in with her heels as she inched forward. When she reached Zoe, she lashed out with her still-bound hands, managing to knock Zoe’s tortoiseshell glasses to the ground.
Zoe blinked, then opened her eyes wide and looked around. Considering her most honed superpower was her X-ray vision—usually negated by her Council-issued glasses—she hoped the walls would turn transparent and she’d get a view of Davy, bored out of his mind and wondering where she and Deena were hiding.
Nope. The walls stayed quite solid, thank you very much, and no matter how hard she concentrated, squinted, or silently cursed, the world beyond the wall simply refused to reveal itself.
Zoe licked her lips, not wanting to concern Deena, and not wanting to confess about this new and inconvenient loss of her powers. The cause might be reason to celebrate, but the symptom was definitely a problem. Especially if it meant she was going to have to face Hieronymous without any superpowers. She gulped. That didn’t sound like a good time at all.
“Well?” Deena asked.
Zoe shook her head. “I don’t see Davy,” she said. Not exactly a lie . . .
Deena’s brow furrowed. “Well, hopefully you’re right and he’s just headed off to the information center to wait for us like we told him.” They’d given the little boy very clear instructions about what to do if they got separated. He was a brilliant kid, but still . . . Zoe’s stomach twisted at the thought of him alone in a park with Hieronymous running around wreaking havoc. Hopefully some nice mommy type would take care of him until she could get back.
She banged her head against the wall in frustration. She hated not knowing what was going on. And right now, she didn’t know anything about anything—where Davy was, or what Hieronymous was up to. No, instead of having a bead on the problem, she was sitting in the dark, as helpless as a mortal.
Her stomach clenched, its knots tightening as much as the ones around her wrists. “I didn’t even hear anything coming,” she said with a scowl. So much for her supposed super senses. “Damn hormones.” They’d been affecting her moods as well as her powers to the point where she didn’t trust her own judgment, much less her ability to manufacture an escape from this predicament.
Deena glanced up from her bindings long enough to offer a quizzical look. Then she tilted her head back down, gnawing at the ropes like a rat. Zoe sighed. That could take forever.
“Got it!” Deena yelled.
Or maybe not. Zoe cocked her head. “You got your wrists free?”
Deena nodded, scrambling forward on all fours. “It wasn’t a very good knot,” she admitted.
“Can you find my purse?” Zoe asked hopefully. “Find my cell phone?”
“You want to make a call?” Deena asked, her voice rising with incredulity. “You can leap tall buildings in a single bound, but you’re going to call the cops? Puh-lease!”
“But—”
“Just roll over,” Deena insisted.
Zoe did. It was easier than arguing, and as soon as she was free, she could look for her own phone. Deena started tugging and yanking on the ties that held her captive. After a few grunts and groans and a surprisingly minimal number of colorful curses, Deena managed to work the knots free. “Ta-da!”
Glancing around the room, Zoe stretched, happy to be free but not sure they were any better off than before. Especially since her purse seemed to be missing.
Deena leaned back on her heels, obviously pleased with herself. “Can you get us out of here?”
Zoe licked her lips. “I hope so.” She looked Deena in the eye. “If I can’t,” she added, “Lane’s never going to let me babysit again.”
She purposely kept her tone light to ward off the fear that was fast threatening to consume her. Deep breaths, she told herself. Her powers might be wonky, but that was all the more reason to rely on her training. A superhero never freaked out. A superhero analyzed, then acted.
“Nothing’s going to happen to Davy,” Deena said, her voice firm. “And you’re a wonderful aunt and Lane knows it.”
Zoe frowned, not bothering to mention that a “wonderful aunt” didn’t get tied up and lose track of her nephew. Instead, she examined her prison inch by inch, looking for a weak spot where—maybe—she’d be able to break out even without her super strength.
As she meticulously searched, she compared herself to her sister-in-law. As moms went, Lane was as good as they came. As aunts went, Zoe had just a couple of years’ experience under her belt. She’d only acquired a nephew after she married Lane’s foster brother. It was only recently that she’d started to take stock of her child-care skills. Despite working as an elementary school librarian before becoming a fulltime superhero, her mental assessment of herself had shown Zoe lacking. Apparently, checking out endless copies of Ramona the Pest wasn’t the same thing as watching over a little boy 24-7.
That was why, in what she’d considered a burst of self-educatory brilliance, she’d offered to take Davy on the fun-filled trip to Sea World. A challenge? Sure. But she was always up for a challenge. She’d just expected something more along the lines of negotiating showtimes and exhausted-little-boy meltdowns. Getting separated from Davy, suspecting the meddling of her evil uncle, and being locked in a small room definitely had not been on her agenda.
“Any day now,” Deena complained, her foot tapping.
Zoe gave her an irritated glance. “Do you mind? I can’t just knock a wall down and end up in Hieronymous’s lap or anything.” Which, again, was literally true. Zoe just wasn’t clarifying the little fact that, no matter how much she might want to, knocking down a wall wasn’t in her current list of abilities.
“Fine. Sorry. Just hurry.”
Zoe scowled, then sat back on her heels as she finished her reconnaissance. “Looks like we’
re in some sort of storage compartment,” she said. She traced her hand down a seam in the wall. “It must open right here.”
“Well, open it,” Deena said, her patience clearly wearing thin. Zoe didn’t blame her. She wanted to get the heck out of here, too.
Might as well give it a try. In a quick, practiced move, she twisted, bending at the waist as she sent her leg shooting toward the door with all the strength she could muster. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. The rubber sole of her white Keds connected with the metal plate, and a dull thwang echoed through the chamber. The door panel stayed firmly shut.
“I can’t,” she said, turning toward Deena.
Her friend looked at her like she’d just said the moon was made of green cheese. “Excuse me?” She cocked her head. “Is it made of lead or something? I thought that was just a myth.”
“It is, but that’s, uh, not the problem.”
Deena cocked an eyebrow. “Care to elucidate?”
Zoe nibbled on her lower lip. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly at my best right now.” As a halfling, she’d had a more difficult time harnessing her powers than full-blooded Protectors like her half brother Hale. But she’d been working her tail off and, recently, she’d gotten her powers pretty much under control. Except right now all her hard work seemed for naught. She couldn’t get her powers to cooperate in the slightest.
Deena looked concerned. “Are you okay? Have you seen a doctor? You have been acting tired lately. Does the Council have some Dr. Bombay type dude on retainer who can examine you?”
“I’m fine,” Zoe reassured her. “Really. I’ve been thoroughly checked out. It’s just a short-term thing. Should pass in a few more weeks.” She mentally calculated. Yeah, about nine more weeks and she’d be past this phase. “But in the meantime, it’s very disconcerting.”
“Not to mention inconvenient,” Deena complained. She aimed one more quizzical glance at Zoe but didn’t press the subject, and for that Zoe was grateful. “So, what do we do? We need to find Davy. We need to stop your uncle.” Then she shook her head and frowned. “No offense, but if you’re . . . under the weather . . . how are we going to stop Hieronymous? For that matter, how the heck are we going to get out of here? Your cell phone?” she finished, hopefully.