by J. Kenner
She felt a little guilty about telling Zephron even before she’d told Taylor—but he’d gone to Geneva for a conference sponsored by the Mortal Counterparts to Protectors Coalition, and she’d only told Zephron because the disappearance of her powers had scared her.
Of course, now Deena knew, too. Hopefully, no one else would figure it out. Zoe didn’t want Taylor to be the absolute last person to find out he was going to be a daddy.
“So where are we?” Deena asked in a whisper.
Zoe had stood up and pressed an eye to a small crack in the low ceiling. She saw nothing more than a view of the bright blue sky. “Under the stands, I think.” She got down on her hands and knees. “Come on.” She started to crawl forward, toward a patch of light several yards away.
Someone was speaking, and the voice echoed beneath the stands. “Anonymity is so cowardly,” the man was saying. “Don’t you agree?”
Deena and Zoe exchanged glances, then rushed forward to peer through the tiny cracks in the wood, eager to see the enemy reveal himself. “I don’t think that’s Hieronymous’s voice,” Zoe whispered. “I’m guessing he got one of his underlings to pull off this little prank.”
Deena shook her head.
“I’m still hoping for regular, old-fashioned muggers. I kind of had my heart set on a quiet, laid-back summer.”
Zoe nodded toward the stage, where the man was tugging at his mask. “We’ll know soon enough.”
Up the man’s mask went, and he casually tossed it aside. Zoe gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. “That’s not an Outcast,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “He’s a Protector.”
Deena twisted around, her forehead creased with concern. “You know him?”
“Not personally. Jake or Jason or something. I saw him interviewed on Protectors Tonight after he escaped from Hieronymous about a year ago.”
“A shark in sheep’s clothing,” Deena said. Zoe raised an eyebrow, and Deena shrugged. “Well, we are at Sea World,” she added.
Zoe rolled her eyes.
“Stockholm syndrome, I bet,” Deena said. “He rejoined the Council, but he was really working all along for Hieronymous.”
Zoe licked her lips. “You must be right.”
“So what do we do?”
Zoe didn’t answer. Instead, her attention was focused on the dolphin swimming in circles in the pool. Faster and faster it went, building up momentum and tracing the water’s perimeter. One last pass, and the heroic dolphin leapt from the water, soaring through the air to smash right into Jake-or-Jason’s gut. The bad guy fell backward, knocked on his tush.
“Yes!” Zoe yelled, not caring if the kidnapper heard her. “Come on!” She started running.
Deena grabbed her wrist. “What is it? Do you have a plan?”
“Yup,” Zoe said. She nodded across the pool. “I may not have my powers, but if a big fish can take out that Protector, I think you and I should be able to hold our own.”
Deena just blinked, her mouth hanging slightly open.
“Come on,” Zoe said, bursting from their hiding spot. “We’re going to go help that dolphin.”
If there was one thing every Protector learned during his rigorous training sessions, it was never to do anything without a plan. Jason had already ignored, mangled, and tossed aside that rule. Yet even without a plan he’d managed to knock down the shapeshifter.
He knew, of course, that the maniac calling the shots on stage had to be a shapeshifter. The man looked like him, but Jason had not gone mad and was not holding his son hostage at the moment. Ergo, the bad guy had the ability to assume his form. Of course, no one except Jason and Shamu knew that. Worse, Davy’s introduction to the likeness of his father was as a first-class creep. That wasn’t going to help in forging a father-son bond.
He’d deal with that little problem later, though. Right now, Jason needed to rescue his son. He focused on the water, shaping the molecules with his will. A column rose from the pool, up and up toward the boy, faster and faster as it got closer, building up speed so it could carry him to freedom . . . .
Except it didn’t work. The water didn’t touch Davy. Instead, it slapped against an invisible wall and then splattered down like raindrops in a summer storm. A force field. Sweet Hera, Hieronymous’s minion had surrounded Davy with a protective force field.
On the concrete, the shapeshifter climbed to his feet, brushing off his pants as he glared at Jason. Then he held up his hands, as if imploring the sky. “Now would be good,” he shouted, his voice much less confident than it had been earlier, almost as if he’d run out of script and had moved to improvisation.
Even before the shifter’s voice faded on the breeze, clouds formed in the sky, darkening so quickly that Jason had the illusion he was watching time-lapse photography. The wind kicked up again, violent and demanding, turning the pool into a whirl that tossed Jason about on its waves. Jason fought to stay at its surface, his eyes on Davy, as he looked for a solution: a break in the force field, a mistake, anything.
Jason? Shamu called. What’s going on? The whale surfaced, breaking the water in a leap, then splashing down to shower the Outcast. The Outcast didn’t even notice; he just stood, his arms raised as if he were conducting a symphony. The wind swirled around him.
Davy bounced and swung in the wind, fear reflected on his little face despite an obvious effort to remain stoic.
What’s the plan? Shamu called.
Jason wished he knew. I’m working on it. He took a breath. I won’t let anything happen to Davy.
Shamu moved his head, a slight nod, then looked at Jason. I know, so what do we do?
“Aunt Zoe!” Davy’s scream pierced the air, and Jason looked up to find the boy caught in the wind. The ropes binding him had been ripped away, and the boy flailed, trying futilely to get some purchase on the air swirling around him. The cyclone lifted him higher and higher above the whale’s pool—as if he was Dorothy and the wind was taking him straight to Oz.
Which was good and bad. Bad in that Hieronymous was trying to steal Jason’s little boy. Good in that Hieronymous couldn’t move the child while his force field was in place. Which meant he must have dropped it.
Immediately Jason concentrated on conjuring another column of water, but it was no use; the water bubbled and sputtered but wouldn’t congeal. His powers were tapped out; he couldn’t even return to human form. The massive effort to save the Sky Tower and then become a dolphin had exhausted his energy, and it would take time to recharge.
Time Davy didn’t have.
“Aunt Zoe!” the boy shouted again. The fear on his small face shot straight to Jason’s stomach. But what really wrenched Jason’s insides was that he was calling for Zoe.
“Davy!” Zoe screamed.
Jason held his breath, waiting for her to use her telekinesis to grab hold of the boy. But she didn’t do a damn thing except run toward the ladder leading up to the platform.
The wind picked up, twisting Jason’s son in a cyclone. Soon, Jason knew, the storm would hurl his boy out of this stadium into the waiting arms of Hieronymous. He had to act now. Maybe he couldn’t control the water, but he had to do something.
And he had to do it fast.
Zoe tilted her head back, the muscles straining in her arms as she balanced on top of the platform and threw a coil of rope into the air. She maintained the futile hope that—for just one throw—her powers would return and the line would reach Davy.
No luck.
“Zoe! Look!” Deena shouted.
Zoe shifted her gaze down and watched, wide-eyed, as Shamu rose to the surface of his pool, a dolphin straddling his tail. The orca thrashed out, sending the dolphin hurtling through the sky, straight toward Davy. The two collided, dolphin and boy, then tumbled together through the air as Davy clung to the dolphin’s slick skin for dear life.
Zoe held her breath. The pair had pulled free from the cyclone, but for how long? Would the wind try again?
The storm swirled back,
dark clouds above reaching down like fingers to grasp their prey. The dolphin twisted, evading capture, even as it and the boy plummeted toward the water. Then . . .
They’d made it! The two had escaped from Hieronymous! Deena let out a cheer, and Zoe breathed a sigh of relief. When this was over, she was buying that dolphin a truckload of raw fish.
Except it wasn’t over.
The Protector who’d turned traitor materialized over the water, hovering there as his Propulsion and Invisibility Cloak snapped in the wind. The dolphin squeaked and barked, the anger in its voice clear. Angry or not, though, it was no match for the Protector, who grabbed Davy by the shoulders even as the dolphin bit down on the boy’s shorts. The water made a schlooping sound as the Protector pulled them both out. Up they went: the boy stoically silent and the dolphin locked onto the back of his pants.
Up, up, up they went as Zoe concentrated, willing her damned hormones to calm down.
“Zoe . . .”
She ignored Deena.
“Zoe!”
Still concentrating.
“Aunt Zoe!” Davy called.
Now!
She lashed out with all her concentration, managing to levitate a nearby bucket of fish—presumably Shamu’s dinner.
Her aim was unsteady, but she heaved with all her might and it headed straight for the turncoat Protector’s head.
Whap! Dead-on perfect.
Zoe cheered while Deena let out a little whoop. Their celebration was premature, however, because the Protector didn’t let go of his quarry. Apollo’s Apples! What could Zoe do now? She didn’t know, and so she did the one thing left to do—upended the bucket on the Protector’s head, sending a flood of dead fish raining down on him.
The man howled in protest, fire shooting from his fingertips in anger. The fish bath had startled him, though, because he dropped Davy, and both the boy and the dolphin fell from the sky and landed with a splash in the holding pool.
Jason burst from the water, exuberant, his boy clinging to his back. Davy was safe. Thank Hera, his son was safe!
But even in his jubilation, a nasty little finger of jealousy poked him. It was foolish and egotistical maybe, but he’d wanted to be the one to save his son. Hell, he’d even thought he had. But his effort hadn’t been good enough—Zoe’d had to come to the rescue.
Some superhero he was. How helpful was transforming into a fish when there was serious super-heroing needed?
“Davy! Mr. Dolphin! Look out!”
Jason dove back down, Davy clinging tight to his back, but it was too late. The shapeshifter Outcast hadn’t been thwarted. He was an expert with his Propulsion Cloak, and now he swooped down for the kill.
“Davy!” Jason heard Zoe yell, but she didn’t do anything except bounce up and down in frustration. Why wasn’t she helping him?
He swam as fast as he could. Where, where, where was his backup?
The shapeshifter caught up, grabbing on to Jason’s tail and spinning him over. Davy broke free and started paddling, his little cheeks puffed out, as he headed for the pool’s edge.
Jason heaved his bulk back toward the shapeshifter, who held his tail. Dolphins might be cute and friendly, but they weighed a lot and packed a punch. The shifter was knocked backwards into the water, his motions becoming clumsy as he was submerged. The Outcast couldn’t stay underwater long, but Jason could. If he could just get on top of his enemy. If he could just block his path . . .
Each time the shifter headed for the surface, Jason cut him off, a living barrier to keep the Outcast from air. And it was working, too. The Outcast was slowing down, losing steam—the lack of oxygen was taking its toll.
A flurry of movement at the surface caught Jason’s attention, and he took his eyes off his opponent long enough to look. His son flailed about, clearly fighting exhaustion and trying to stay afloat. Jason shifted, ready to lunge for the boy and push him out of the water, but Zoe dove in, then wrapped her arm around Davy and carryied him to the side of the pool. Jason’s body sagged with relief. Thank Zeus!
But his thanks died on his lips. He’d only been distracted for a split second, yet that was enough. As he focused his full attention back to the shifter, Jason was engulfed in a ball of living, breathing flame.
He writhed, the flames licking at him as the shifter propelled himself toward the water’s surface. And it was only when the shifter wrestled the boy from Zoe’s arms and soared into the sky that Jason realized the fire surrounding him was an illusion. Underwater, of course, it had to be. But his brief hesitation had cost him everything.
It was over.
There was nothing he could do—nothing, except watch as his enemy lifted his son into the wild winds above and shot off across the sky, finally fading into nothing more than a distant black dot. And as the Outcast disappeared from sight, Jason thought he heard the deep, low tones of a maniacal laugh.
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.
4
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 Zoe, 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 dam 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.