"Aphrodite's_Passion_026" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_02]_-_Aphrodite's_Passion_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file...)

Chapter Twenty-three

“Something really weird,” Tracy continued, glaring at the seven people, one ferret, and a dog camped out in her entrance hall, “is going on. And I want to know what.”
“Sweetheart,” Hale said. “Nothing’s going on. I think you should just—”
“Don’t you sweetheart me!” She turned to face him head on, digging deep for the courage she’d never found with Walter. But Hale meant something to her, and if she had any shot at all in repairing this relationship, she couldn’t be a doormat. “Right now, what you think doesn’t matter. You gave up that right when you turned cold on me this morning, then sealed your fate when you exchanged kissy-faces with Miss Supermodel.”
Zoë aimed a raised eyebrow in her brother’s direction. Hale just shrugged and, Tracy was happy to see, looked utterly miserable.
She took a deep breath, pleased with herself for sounding calm, and tried not to look around for support. “Now, I want to know what’s going on. What’s really going on.”
Zoë and Hale looked at each other, while Deena and another man Tracy presumed to be the blonde’s guy, Hoop, did the same. Lane stared at Davy, sleeping in her arms, and Mordi glared at Hale’s ferret. Missy just snored on the floor.
“Somebody?” She tapped her foot on the marble flooring. “Hale?”
He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “There’s nothing going on, sweetheart.”
Elmer perked up, chattering away from his perch on the armrest.
“Will you knock it off?” Hale said, turning to the ferret.
“Nothing, huh?” She glanced from him to Elmer.
Hale shrugged, but glared at the ferret.
“You’re all in my house, know each other, someone tried to mug me”—she held up two fingers—“twice. And men have started paying attention to me.” She pointed at Hale. “And you talk to ferrets. And this one,” she added turning to glare at Mordi, “throws fire. Fire! So what is going on? Are you all circus performers?”
Again, Zoë and Hale just shrugged. The rest of the crowd remained stone-faced.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll guess.” It wasn’t so difficult to figure out, she supposed. Weird stuff had started happening to her since she’d found her grandmother’s belt. She aimed a glance at each of her guests in turn. “This has something to do with Tahlula’s belt, doesn’t it?”
She had no idea how it possibly could, but that seemed the only reasonable explanation. No. Strike that. There was no reasonable explanation. But the belt had to be the link between all this weirdness. Either that, or she was losing it.
“How on earth could your a belt have anything to do with men paying attention to you?” Lane asked.
“Or you getting mugged, for that matter,” Deena added. “I mean, it’s a truly funky-looking belt. You think muggers would want it?”
“Both times they grabbed for it.” Tracy responded. “Not my purse. Not me. My waist. For the belt. Somebody wants this thing, and I think I know why.”
Neither Hale nor Zoë looked at each other, and Tracy knew she had to be on the right track. She started pacing the room, feeling a bit like Perry Mason at the end of a case. “So, will one of you tell me, or do I have to guess?”
“I vote for guessing,” Hale said.
“Me, too,” Zoë added, holding hands with a man Tracy presumed was her husband, Taylor.
“Works for me,” Deena’s man added.
Taylor and Lane both nodded. Mordi just rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and sank further into the sofa cushions. Davy twisted in his mother’s arms. Elmer rolled over, and Missy didn’t wake up.
Tracy closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Fine. I’ll guess.” All she knew about the belt was that it boosted her confidence, it had a mysterious message from her grandmother ... and about the time her grandmother had started wearing the belt in publicity photos her popularity had increased exponentially.
Her train of thought was interrupted when she saw the belt in question draped over the sofa. She should have been surprised to see it there—she’d forgotten she’d left it in the hotel room, she’d been so mad—but she wasn’t.
Ignoring the seven alert pairs of eyes that followed her as she moved around the room, Tracy headed for the sofa, then twisted the belt between her fingers. She’d thought her confidence when she wore the thing had been a placebo effect. The belt was a crutch that pushed her into her own little confidence zone. That’s why everybody she ran into seemed to stumble all over themselves to make her happy.
But that was some pretty darned potent self-confidence she’d had. So potent that now she had to wonder if there wasn’t more to it.
Like maybe magic?
Mentally, she rolled her eyes. She felt silly for thinking it, and even sillier saying it out loud, but she really didn’t have any other explanation. “Magic,” she explained, trying to keep her voice firm and confident, even though she knew these people would brush off her silly comment. After all, a belt couldn’t be magic. Could it?
The reactions from her guests weren’t exactly as she’d expected. Well, except for Missy and Davy, who slept through the entire thing. Everyone else acted agitated. Elmer ran up the back of the sofa to perch above Hale. Taylor closed his hand over Zoë‘s, while she and Hale shared another one of their surreptitious glances. Deena grabbed Hoop’s knee, Lane let her head flop back against the sofa, and Mordi massaged the bridge of his nose.
“No way,” Tracy said. These people were acting like she’d just got it right. But she couldn’t be right.
Could she?
“Tell her,” Zoë said.
“Zo ...” Hale didn’t look too keen about the “tell her” plan.
“Zoë‘s right,” Taylor said. “At this point, you might as well tell her everything.”
“Everything?” Tracy asked. She frowned. “Do I need to sit down?”
Lane nodded. “I would if I were you.”
“For crying out loud, Hale,” Deena yelped. “Do you think you could be a little less abrupt?”
“What?” Tracy squinted at Deena, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Then it occurred to her to turn and follow the line of the blond woman’s sight.
Oh, my. All of a sudden her knees went weak. So it was probably fortunate that a chair was floating through the air, making its way toward her. The second it settled behind her, she collapsed onto it, the sound of Missy’s frantic barking ringing in her ears.
“Magic,” she whispered. “I was right.”
“Telekinesis, actually,” Hale said. “You know, the ability to move stuff with your mind. Or with my mind, actually.” He flashed her that cocky grin she so adored. “You can do a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure you can’t do that.”
“Yeah,” she said, gripping the bottom of her chair so she didn’t topple over. “I’m pretty sure, too.”
“Don’t worry,” Taylor said. “You’ll get used to it after a while.”
“Used to what? And what does this have to do with my belt?”
“Your belt’s an artifact,” Hale said. He got up and moved to stand behind her. “And there’s some rather bad guys who want to get a hold of it.” He squeezed her shoulders. “And you.”
“And that’s why you jumped Mordi?” she asked, turning to squint at Hale’s cousin. “Because you think he’s one of the bad guys?” He’d been nice to her. But then so had they all. And they were all evidently in this together. Whatever this was.
She tilted her head back, staring at Hale’s face while she waited for his answer, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was looking at Mordi, the crease in his forehead suggesting he was thinking very hard.
“The jury’s still out on that,” Hale said at last.
“Hmmm.” Tracy wasn’t so sure. In her mind, anyone who could and would provide astute advice about her love life was firmly entrenched on the good side. But that wasn’t a topic she intended to raise. Not now, anyway.
She turned back to Hale. “So what kind of artifact?”
“Extremely old,” he answered. “Thousands of years. And it’s been lost. Somehow your grandmother got a hold of it.”
“Okaaaay.” It wasn’t really, but she was willing to go with the flow for now. “And what do you have to do with the thing? Are you part of some magical, mystical police unit that retrieves artifacts?” She tilted her head back again to await his response.
Another one of those looks passed between Hale and Zoë.
“Um, guys?” Tracy lifted her hand, waving a bit to get their attention. “I was kidding.”
“Maybe you were and maybe you weren’t,” Deena said.
“You might as well start at the beginning,” Zoë said to her brother. “It’ll make more sense that way.”
Hale gave Tracy’s shoulders one last squeeze, then moved in front of her. His touch left an echo on her skin, and she longed to reach up and stroke that part of her shoulder he’d touched, but she managed to stifle the urge. Now wasn’t the time for lust. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was the time for, but lust was clearly out.
He stood in front of her. Tall, proud. And his face was deadly serious. Whatever the truth was, she was about to hear it.
“I’m a Protector. I guess you’d call me a superhero.”
“Oh, come on, guys. You said you were going to tell me the truth.” They were going to drag this on all night.
“He’s serious, Tracy,” Lane said. She nodded toward the chair. “Remember?”
The chair had floated through the air, but one floating chair did not a superhero make.
“Tracy,” Hale said. “I’m serious.” He looked her deep in the eyes. And then he was gone. Poof. Just like that.
Jumping up out of her chair, she gaped, then just stood there shaking her head, feeling a bit like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz—complaining about the way people came and went so quickly.
Pop! He was back. Standing right in front of her, as solid as a rock.
“I really am a superhero.” He grinned. “I’ve been telling you that for days.”
“You have,” she admitted. And, suddenly, as weird as it seemed, it all fit.
She sank back into her chair. Figures. If she’d thought he was inaccessible as a cover model, now his no-chance-in-hell-of-a-long-term-commitment factor had just increased exponentially. The man was a superhero. A living, breathing superhero. Way, way, way out of her league.
No wonder he’d decided he didn’t want her.
Except Mordi seemed to think he did. She licked her lips, a glimmer of hope shining in her mind. She’d seen real desire in his eyes—at least last night. So, maybe there was some hope. Even if it was foolish, couldn’t she at least cling to that?
She tilted her head and met his eyes. “A superhero, huh? So are you all superheroes? Have I wandered into the middle of a Superfriends cartoon?”
“Not exactly,” Hale said. Then he fell silent.
“So how does this superhero thing work? You have powers?”
Hale nodded.
Tracy turned to Lane. “How about you? What powers do you have?”
Lane just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. The only power I have is the ability to entertain a five-year-old while cooking spaghetti. It’s not much, but occasionally it’s useful.”
“It’s just Zoë and Hale,” Hoop said, a grin dancing on his lips. “They’re the only superfreaks we got.” He started humming the old ‘80s tune.
Zoë rolled her eyes. “Thanks a lot.”
“Uh, hello?” Mordi leaned forward on the couch to glare at Hoop. “What am I? Invisible?”
“No,” Hoop said. “That’s Hale.”
“I take it you’re a superhero, too,” Tracy asked, turning to Mordi.
“If they are, I am.”
Tracy turned to Zoë. “So, if Hale can turn invisible and Mordi can do stuff with fire, what can you do?”
Zoë shrugged. “Not much.”
“Yeah, right,” Deena said. “Keep an eye on her. If she takes off those glasses, she could tell you what color underwear you’re wearing.”
“Yes,” Zoë said, her voice exasperated. “But I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point,” Deena countered. “She asked what you could do, and you can—”
“I’ve got it.” Tracy held up a hand, then stood up herself, pacing as she tried to harness her new nervous energy. “Wow.”
She was still trying to process the information. Frankly, she thought she was doing a dam good job, considering that before this, the last really amazing thing that had been dumped in her lap was Walter walking away four years ago. “I guess you really were telling me the truth.”
Hale lifted a shoulder. “Technically. But I didn’t want you to know. I thought I could complete my mission without you finding out.”
“Your mission. Tell me about that.”
“Protect you. Recover the belt.”
“A little more detail would be nice. Like, who are you protecting me from, and why do you need to recover a belt my grandmother’s had since she was young?”
“I told you. It’s an artifact.”
Mordi snorted.
“I think your cousin believes there’s more,” Tracy said.
“It’s an artifact that his father wants to get his hands on,” Hale added, scowling at Mordi. His cousin just shrugged and flicked a piece of lint off his tailored slacks.
“And you were protecting me because...” Tracy prompted.
“Because my father tends to get what he wants,” Mordi put in. “That’s just the kind of guy he is.”
“I take it he’s not one of the good guys?”
“Hieronymous definitely ranks among the bad guys,” Hale agreed.
Mordi crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.
“Okay. So you came here to protect me so this Heromynus guy—”
“Hieronymous.”
“Whatever. So he won’t get my grandmother’s belt.”
“Right.”
“Well, why does he want it in the first place? Deena’s right. It’s not exactly fashionable, and if it’s magic, it doesn’t seem to be too powerful. I mean, my life’s been a bit odd since I found it, but most of that can probably be attributed to all you guys following me around. Well, mostly.”
They all exchanged glances, and Tracy sighed. “Enough with the secret looks, okay? Just tell me.” She held up a hand. “No, let me guess. It makes the wearer irresistible.”
Hale frowned. “Pretty close. Are you familiar at all with mythology?”
Tracy’s head was spinning already, but she decided to ignore it. “Some. Why?”
“How about Aphrodite?”
“Sure. Goddess of love. Something about being naked in a giant seashell.”
“Well, I’m not sure about the seashell,” Hale said, “but she was Zoë‘s and my great-great-great-and-then-some grandmother.”
“Oh.” Tracy blinked. “Well, sure she was. I mean, why be superheroes if you can be gods and goddesses.”
“Oh,” Deena piped in. “That was just their cover story.”
Tracy had no idea how to respond to that. “Cover story?”
“Yeah. See, those old Greeks weren’t really gods and goddesses, they were just this other... well... race, I guess. And since they could talk to animals—”
Tracy turned to Hale, who nodded.
“—and turn into animals, and see through things, and all sorts of other stuff, we humans all just take them for gods and goddesses.” Deena turned to Zoë. “Right?”
“Pretty much.”
“The point,” Hale said, “is that Aphrodite had a belt. Mythology calls it Aphrodite’s girdle, and it’s real.”
“This belt.” Tracy held it up. “So, what’s it do?” She faced each of them in turn.
Finally, Mordi spoke. “Like you said. It makes the wearer irresistible to whomever he or she desires. And it makes it so that she gets whatever she wants.”
“Oh.” Well, that certainly explained a lot. No wonder lamebrain Leon and all those others had been so friendly. “But why would this evil Herobidons guy want it? Is his love life in shambles?”
“On a Protector, it’s different,” Mordi said.
“It’s not a question of who the wearer desires,” Hale added. “It’s everyone. Everyone—Protectors, mortals, everyone—would bend to his will.”
“Oh.” That sounded pretty bad.
“He wants to take over the world,” Deena said. She shot an enigmatic look Mordi’s direction. “Zoë had a little tussle with him last year. Not a nice guy. Delusions of grandeur. A real nutcase.”
Tracy was confused. “But if y’all are these super dudes, why hasn’t he popped in and just taken it? I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but surely he could have managed to get the belt from me by now.”
“He can’t steal it,” Mordi explained. “The Protector who steals it, loses his powers.” He shrugged. “And he can’t kill you.”
Tracy’s knees went weak. That particular possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “Uh, why not?”
“If you die wearing the belt, its characteristics die with you. It becomes nothing more than a piece of old junk.”
“But those muggers ...”
“Trying to get it from you,” Hale said. “Hieronymous can’t steal it, but he can receive stolen property from those minions without losing his powers.” He shrugged. “Or, you can give it to someone. But except for those options, there’s not a lot Hieronymous can do.”
“Oh.” She was beginning to feel like her vocabulary had shrunk to that one word. And then, in a flash of inspiration, it all made sense. Turning to Hale, she gnawed on her lower lip, sure she’d realized the truth, though not really wanting to face it. “That’s why you’re here. Not just to protect me, but to try and get the belt from me. That’s why you kept asking about it.” Her eyes scanned the room. “And the rest of you, too.”
Hale’s eyes closed, and when he opened them again, she knew she was right. “Yes. I’m sorry, Tracy. It’s my job. I came here hoping to convince you to give me the belt. It needs to be turned over to the Council where it can be safe. Protected from Hieronymous. Not a danger to anybody—least of all you.”
His words sunk in as she realized one more horrific implication. She’d been wearing the belt all this time. When he’d helped her with those first muggers. And she’d been wearing it again at the mall. But she hadn’t been wearing it this morning; and it was this morning that Hale had turned cold and distant.
With her hand over her mouth, she stifled the urge to be sick. Instead, she took a deep breath. After all, she had to know. “So that’s what it was, then.” She gestured between the two of them. “You. Me. It was all the belt. Nothing real.” She blinked back tears as a cold darkness settled over her. “Nothing real at all.” Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t really feel anything for me. It’s just the belt. I wanted you, and so you wanted me.” She felt so silly, so humiliated.
He didn’t say anything, and she saw the way his fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa.
“Hale, please. I need to know the truth.”
After an eternity of minutes, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Tracy. I do like you. But anything more than that... Well, the belt’s magic is pretty damn potent.”

Chapter Twenty-three

“Something really weird,” Tracy continued, glaring at the seven people, one ferret, and a dog camped out in her entrance hall, “is going on. And I want to know what.”
“Sweetheart,” Hale said. “Nothing’s going on. I think you should just—”
“Don’t you sweetheart me!” She turned to face him head on, digging deep for the courage she’d never found with Walter. But Hale meant something to her, and if she had any shot at all in repairing this relationship, she couldn’t be a doormat. “Right now, what you think doesn’t matter. You gave up that right when you turned cold on me this morning, then sealed your fate when you exchanged kissy-faces with Miss Supermodel.”
Zoë aimed a raised eyebrow in her brother’s direction. Hale just shrugged and, Tracy was happy to see, looked utterly miserable.
She took a deep breath, pleased with herself for sounding calm, and tried not to look around for support. “Now, I want to know what’s going on. What’s really going on.”
Zoë and Hale looked at each other, while Deena and another man Tracy presumed to be the blonde’s guy, Hoop, did the same. Lane stared at Davy, sleeping in her arms, and Mordi glared at Hale’s ferret. Missy just snored on the floor.
“Somebody?” She tapped her foot on the marble flooring. “Hale?”
He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “There’s nothing going on, sweetheart.”
Elmer perked up, chattering away from his perch on the armrest.
“Will you knock it off?” Hale said, turning to the ferret.
“Nothing, huh?” She glanced from him to Elmer.
Hale shrugged, but glared at the ferret.
“You’re all in my house, know each other, someone tried to mug me”—she held up two fingers—“twice. And men have started paying attention to me.” She pointed at Hale. “And you talk to ferrets. And this one,” she added turning to glare at Mordi, “throws fire. Fire! So what is going on? Are you all circus performers?”
Again, Zoë and Hale just shrugged. The rest of the crowd remained stone-faced.
“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll guess.” It wasn’t so difficult to figure out, she supposed. Weird stuff had started happening to her since she’d found her grandmother’s belt. She aimed a glance at each of her guests in turn. “This has something to do with Tahlula’s belt, doesn’t it?”
She had no idea how it possibly could, but that seemed the only reasonable explanation. No. Strike that. There was no reasonable explanation. But the belt had to be the link between all this weirdness. Either that, or she was losing it.
“How on earth could your a belt have anything to do with men paying attention to you?” Lane asked.
“Or you getting mugged, for that matter,” Deena added. “I mean, it’s a truly funky-looking belt. You think muggers would want it?”
“Both times they grabbed for it.” Tracy responded. “Not my purse. Not me. My waist. For the belt. Somebody wants this thing, and I think I know why.”
Neither Hale nor Zoë looked at each other, and Tracy knew she had to be on the right track. She started pacing the room, feeling a bit like Perry Mason at the end of a case. “So, will one of you tell me, or do I have to guess?”
“I vote for guessing,” Hale said.
“Me, too,” Zoë added, holding hands with a man Tracy presumed was her husband, Taylor.
“Works for me,” Deena’s man added.
Taylor and Lane both nodded. Mordi just rolled his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, and sank further into the sofa cushions. Davy twisted in his mother’s arms. Elmer rolled over, and Missy didn’t wake up.
Tracy closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Fine. I’ll guess.” All she knew about the belt was that it boosted her confidence, it had a mysterious message from her grandmother ... and about the time her grandmother had started wearing the belt in publicity photos her popularity had increased exponentially.
Her train of thought was interrupted when she saw the belt in question draped over the sofa. She should have been surprised to see it there—she’d forgotten she’d left it in the hotel room, she’d been so mad—but she wasn’t.
Ignoring the seven alert pairs of eyes that followed her as she moved around the room, Tracy headed for the sofa, then twisted the belt between her fingers. She’d thought her confidence when she wore the thing had been a placebo effect. The belt was a crutch that pushed her into her own little confidence zone. That’s why everybody she ran into seemed to stumble all over themselves to make her happy.
But that was some pretty darned potent self-confidence she’d had. So potent that now she had to wonder if there wasn’t more to it.
Like maybe magic?
Mentally, she rolled her eyes. She felt silly for thinking it, and even sillier saying it out loud, but she really didn’t have any other explanation. “Magic,” she explained, trying to keep her voice firm and confident, even though she knew these people would brush off her silly comment. After all, a belt couldn’t be magic. Could it?
The reactions from her guests weren’t exactly as she’d expected. Well, except for Missy and Davy, who slept through the entire thing. Everyone else acted agitated. Elmer ran up the back of the sofa to perch above Hale. Taylor closed his hand over Zoë‘s, while she and Hale shared another one of their surreptitious glances. Deena grabbed Hoop’s knee, Lane let her head flop back against the sofa, and Mordi massaged the bridge of his nose.
“No way,” Tracy said. These people were acting like she’d just got it right. But she couldn’t be right.
Could she?
“Tell her,” Zoë said.
“Zo ...” Hale didn’t look too keen about the “tell her” plan.
“Zoë‘s right,” Taylor said. “At this point, you might as well tell her everything.”
“Everything?” Tracy asked. She frowned. “Do I need to sit down?”
Lane nodded. “I would if I were you.”
“For crying out loud, Hale,” Deena yelped. “Do you think you could be a little less abrupt?”
“What?” Tracy squinted at Deena, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Then it occurred to her to turn and follow the line of the blond woman’s sight.
Oh, my. All of a sudden her knees went weak. So it was probably fortunate that a chair was floating through the air, making its way toward her. The second it settled behind her, she collapsed onto it, the sound of Missy’s frantic barking ringing in her ears.
“Magic,” she whispered. “I was right.”
“Telekinesis, actually,” Hale said. “You know, the ability to move stuff with your mind. Or with my mind, actually.” He flashed her that cocky grin she so adored. “You can do a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure you can’t do that.”
“Yeah,” she said, gripping the bottom of her chair so she didn’t topple over. “I’m pretty sure, too.”
“Don’t worry,” Taylor said. “You’ll get used to it after a while.”
“Used to what? And what does this have to do with my belt?”
“Your belt’s an artifact,” Hale said. He got up and moved to stand behind her. “And there’s some rather bad guys who want to get a hold of it.” He squeezed her shoulders. “And you.”
“And that’s why you jumped Mordi?” she asked, turning to squint at Hale’s cousin. “Because you think he’s one of the bad guys?” He’d been nice to her. But then so had they all. And they were all evidently in this together. Whatever this was.
She tilted her head back, staring at Hale’s face while she waited for his answer, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he was looking at Mordi, the crease in his forehead suggesting he was thinking very hard.
“The jury’s still out on that,” Hale said at last.
“Hmmm.” Tracy wasn’t so sure. In her mind, anyone who could and would provide astute advice about her love life was firmly entrenched on the good side. But that wasn’t a topic she intended to raise. Not now, anyway.
She turned back to Hale. “So what kind of artifact?”
“Extremely old,” he answered. “Thousands of years. And it’s been lost. Somehow your grandmother got a hold of it.”
“Okaaaay.” It wasn’t really, but she was willing to go with the flow for now. “And what do you have to do with the thing? Are you part of some magical, mystical police unit that retrieves artifacts?” She tilted her head back again to await his response.
Another one of those looks passed between Hale and Zoë.
“Um, guys?” Tracy lifted her hand, waving a bit to get their attention. “I was kidding.”
“Maybe you were and maybe you weren’t,” Deena said.
“You might as well start at the beginning,” Zoë said to her brother. “It’ll make more sense that way.”
Hale gave Tracy’s shoulders one last squeeze, then moved in front of her. His touch left an echo on her skin, and she longed to reach up and stroke that part of her shoulder he’d touched, but she managed to stifle the urge. Now wasn’t the time for lust. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was the time for, but lust was clearly out.
He stood in front of her. Tall, proud. And his face was deadly serious. Whatever the truth was, she was about to hear it.
“I’m a Protector. I guess you’d call me a superhero.”
“Oh, come on, guys. You said you were going to tell me the truth.” They were going to drag this on all night.
“He’s serious, Tracy,” Lane said. She nodded toward the chair. “Remember?”
The chair had floated through the air, but one floating chair did not a superhero make.
“Tracy,” Hale said. “I’m serious.” He looked her deep in the eyes. And then he was gone. Poof. Just like that.
Jumping up out of her chair, she gaped, then just stood there shaking her head, feeling a bit like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz—complaining about the way people came and went so quickly.
Pop! He was back. Standing right in front of her, as solid as a rock.
“I really am a superhero.” He grinned. “I’ve been telling you that for days.”
“You have,” she admitted. And, suddenly, as weird as it seemed, it all fit.
She sank back into her chair. Figures. If she’d thought he was inaccessible as a cover model, now his no-chance-in-hell-of-a-long-term-commitment factor had just increased exponentially. The man was a superhero. A living, breathing superhero. Way, way, way out of her league.
No wonder he’d decided he didn’t want her.
Except Mordi seemed to think he did. She licked her lips, a glimmer of hope shining in her mind. She’d seen real desire in his eyes—at least last night. So, maybe there was some hope. Even if it was foolish, couldn’t she at least cling to that?
She tilted her head and met his eyes. “A superhero, huh? So are you all superheroes? Have I wandered into the middle of a Superfriends cartoon?”
“Not exactly,” Hale said. Then he fell silent.
“So how does this superhero thing work? You have powers?”
Hale nodded.
Tracy turned to Lane. “How about you? What powers do you have?”
Lane just shrugged. “Don’t look at me. The only power I have is the ability to entertain a five-year-old while cooking spaghetti. It’s not much, but occasionally it’s useful.”
“It’s just Zoë and Hale,” Hoop said, a grin dancing on his lips. “They’re the only superfreaks we got.” He started humming the old ‘80s tune.
Zoë rolled her eyes. “Thanks a lot.”
“Uh, hello?” Mordi leaned forward on the couch to glare at Hoop. “What am I? Invisible?”
“No,” Hoop said. “That’s Hale.”
“I take it you’re a superhero, too,” Tracy asked, turning to Mordi.
“If they are, I am.”
Tracy turned to Zoë. “So, if Hale can turn invisible and Mordi can do stuff with fire, what can you do?”
Zoë shrugged. “Not much.”
“Yeah, right,” Deena said. “Keep an eye on her. If she takes off those glasses, she could tell you what color underwear you’re wearing.”
“Yes,” Zoë said, her voice exasperated. “But I wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the point,” Deena countered. “She asked what you could do, and you can—”
“I’ve got it.” Tracy held up a hand, then stood up herself, pacing as she tried to harness her new nervous energy. “Wow.”
She was still trying to process the information. Frankly, she thought she was doing a dam good job, considering that before this, the last really amazing thing that had been dumped in her lap was Walter walking away four years ago. “I guess you really were telling me the truth.”
Hale lifted a shoulder. “Technically. But I didn’t want you to know. I thought I could complete my mission without you finding out.”
“Your mission. Tell me about that.”
“Protect you. Recover the belt.”
“A little more detail would be nice. Like, who are you protecting me from, and why do you need to recover a belt my grandmother’s had since she was young?”
“I told you. It’s an artifact.”
Mordi snorted.
“I think your cousin believes there’s more,” Tracy said.
“It’s an artifact that his father wants to get his hands on,” Hale added, scowling at Mordi. His cousin just shrugged and flicked a piece of lint off his tailored slacks.
“And you were protecting me because...” Tracy prompted.
“Because my father tends to get what he wants,” Mordi put in. “That’s just the kind of guy he is.”
“I take it he’s not one of the good guys?”
“Hieronymous definitely ranks among the bad guys,” Hale agreed.
Mordi crossed his arms over his chest and scowled.
“Okay. So you came here to protect me so this Heromynus guy—”
“Hieronymous.”
“Whatever. So he won’t get my grandmother’s belt.”
“Right.”
“Well, why does he want it in the first place? Deena’s right. It’s not exactly fashionable, and if it’s magic, it doesn’t seem to be too powerful. I mean, my life’s been a bit odd since I found it, but most of that can probably be attributed to all you guys following me around. Well, mostly.”
They all exchanged glances, and Tracy sighed. “Enough with the secret looks, okay? Just tell me.” She held up a hand. “No, let me guess. It makes the wearer irresistible.”
Hale frowned. “Pretty close. Are you familiar at all with mythology?”
Tracy’s head was spinning already, but she decided to ignore it. “Some. Why?”
“How about Aphrodite?”
“Sure. Goddess of love. Something about being naked in a giant seashell.”
“Well, I’m not sure about the seashell,” Hale said, “but she was Zoë‘s and my great-great-great-and-then-some grandmother.”
“Oh.” Tracy blinked. “Well, sure she was. I mean, why be superheroes if you can be gods and goddesses.”
“Oh,” Deena piped in. “That was just their cover story.”
Tracy had no idea how to respond to that. “Cover story?”
“Yeah. See, those old Greeks weren’t really gods and goddesses, they were just this other... well... race, I guess. And since they could talk to animals—”
Tracy turned to Hale, who nodded.
“—and turn into animals, and see through things, and all sorts of other stuff, we humans all just take them for gods and goddesses.” Deena turned to Zoë. “Right?”
“Pretty much.”
“The point,” Hale said, “is that Aphrodite had a belt. Mythology calls it Aphrodite’s girdle, and it’s real.”
“This belt.” Tracy held it up. “So, what’s it do?” She faced each of them in turn.
Finally, Mordi spoke. “Like you said. It makes the wearer irresistible to whomever he or she desires. And it makes it so that she gets whatever she wants.”
“Oh.” Well, that certainly explained a lot. No wonder lamebrain Leon and all those others had been so friendly. “But why would this evil Herobidons guy want it? Is his love life in shambles?”
“On a Protector, it’s different,” Mordi said.
“It’s not a question of who the wearer desires,” Hale added. “It’s everyone. Everyone—Protectors, mortals, everyone—would bend to his will.”
“Oh.” That sounded pretty bad.
“He wants to take over the world,” Deena said. She shot an enigmatic look Mordi’s direction. “Zoë had a little tussle with him last year. Not a nice guy. Delusions of grandeur. A real nutcase.”
Tracy was confused. “But if y’all are these super dudes, why hasn’t he popped in and just taken it? I mean, I appreciate the protection and all, but surely he could have managed to get the belt from me by now.”
“He can’t steal it,” Mordi explained. “The Protector who steals it, loses his powers.” He shrugged. “And he can’t kill you.”
Tracy’s knees went weak. That particular possibility hadn’t occurred to her. “Uh, why not?”
“If you die wearing the belt, its characteristics die with you. It becomes nothing more than a piece of old junk.”
“But those muggers ...”
“Trying to get it from you,” Hale said. “Hieronymous can’t steal it, but he can receive stolen property from those minions without losing his powers.” He shrugged. “Or, you can give it to someone. But except for those options, there’s not a lot Hieronymous can do.”
“Oh.” She was beginning to feel like her vocabulary had shrunk to that one word. And then, in a flash of inspiration, it all made sense. Turning to Hale, she gnawed on her lower lip, sure she’d realized the truth, though not really wanting to face it. “That’s why you’re here. Not just to protect me, but to try and get the belt from me. That’s why you kept asking about it.” Her eyes scanned the room. “And the rest of you, too.”
Hale’s eyes closed, and when he opened them again, she knew she was right. “Yes. I’m sorry, Tracy. It’s my job. I came here hoping to convince you to give me the belt. It needs to be turned over to the Council where it can be safe. Protected from Hieronymous. Not a danger to anybody—least of all you.”
His words sunk in as she realized one more horrific implication. She’d been wearing the belt all this time. When he’d helped her with those first muggers. And she’d been wearing it again at the mall. But she hadn’t been wearing it this morning; and it was this morning that Hale had turned cold and distant.
With her hand over her mouth, she stifled the urge to be sick. Instead, she took a deep breath. After all, she had to know. “So that’s what it was, then.” She gestured between the two of them. “You. Me. It was all the belt. Nothing real.” She blinked back tears as a cold darkness settled over her. “Nothing real at all.” Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes. “I’m right, aren’t I? You don’t really feel anything for me. It’s just the belt. I wanted you, and so you wanted me.” She felt so silly, so humiliated.
He didn’t say anything, and she saw the way his fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa.
“Hale, please. I need to know the truth.”
After an eternity of minutes, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Tracy. I do like you. But anything more than that... Well, the belt’s magic is pretty damn potent.”