Aphrodite's Secret

THE HERO RETURNED
 

Lane licked her lips, her face contorting as if she’d just tasted his words and found them bitter. “You can’t,” she said. “It’s done. Over. You left me. I’ve moved on with my life, and we can’t go back. Not unless you can turn back time.” For a brief moment, hope entered her eyes, and he saw just how much weight she gave Protector powers.

“Er, I don’t think anyone can. Well, Zephron, maybe, but—”

“Not you.”

“Not me.”

“Oh.” She nibbled on her thumb, then lifted her head to look him straight in the eyes. “So you can’t make it up to me, and we can’t go back. But you
are
going to rescue my son.”

“Our son,” he corrected.

“He’s all I have,” Lane said, tears spilling out of her eyes. “You can’t let anything happen to him.”

Despite the cuffs binding his wrists, Jason twisted and managed to grasp her hands, squeezing until she squeezed back. “I know,” he said. And he did. Once upon a time, she’d had him, too. But no more. Now it was just Lane and Davy. And if Jason wanted back into their family, he was going to have to work his tail off. He was going to have to rescue Davy—and he was going to have to do a whole hell of a lot more, too.

Other Love
Spell
books by Julie Kenner:

APHRODITE’S PASSION
A MOTHER’S WAY ROMANCE ANTHOLOGY
APHRODITE’S KISS
THE CAT’S FANCY

LOVE SPELL NEW YORK CITY

For lo, ap, dp, and cek—it is, after all, AAT.

ISBN 0-505-52509-7

Thanks to the folks at the Sea World information line for answering my odd mishmash of questions. And thanks to Steve Carver for taking such great pictures and video to refresh my memory of the San Diego Sea World. Any errors, omissions, or changes to the park details (on purpose or in error) are strictly my own.

VENERATE COUNCIL OF PROTECTORS
1-800-555-HERO
www.superherocentral.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 website, www.superherocentral.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 almost 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 casually 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.

Despite his mood, Jason stifled a laugh.
They’re never going to believe you’re friendly
, he said.
It’s the teeth
.

Lester’s black eyes turned sad, and Jason felt a twinge of sorrow at having to remind his friend of the inescapable truth: no one was going to believe that a sleek gray eating machine just wanted someone to play with.

Have you seen anything
? Jason asked, trying to get his mind back on his mission.

Lester rocked from side to side.
Nothing
.

Jason nodded. He’d expected that. In fact, he was beginning to think this whole assignment was a big waste of time. So far, the only nefarious deed he’d seen was a tough-looking nine-year-old giving a wedgie to a pasty-faced little boy. Jason had put a stop to it right away, levitating the bully’s shoes so he tripped over his own feet and then landed facedown in a tide pool. It might not be saving the world, but it was something.