by Julie Kenner
—then crashed on Zoë’s couch. Across the room, Elmer turned in a circle three times and settled in for a nap.
With a sigh, Hale glanced at the council-issued backpack he’d tossed onto Zoë’s coffee table earlier. As he crooked his finger, the pack opened, and the picture of the stone he was supposed to be tracking down floated out, finally landing on his stomach.
Hard to believe such a trinket could wreak so much havoc. Elmer was up, his whiskers twitching, his fur a spiky mess.
“I thought you were napping.”
How can I nap when the fate of the world rests with a big rock?
Well, he might have a point there. “Just don’t call the damn thing a trinket. It’s a council artifact. Pay it a little respect.”
One wouldn’t expect a ferret to be able to make an effective snorting sound, but Elmer managed. Hale grinned, then pitched the photo into his pack. He leaned back, ready for a little feast of Oreos, but instead ended up in a massive sneezing fit.
A key jangled in the lock, and he heard the front door open.
From his prone position, he lifted his soda in greeting, only then realizing that he’d sneezed himself into invisibility. From where Zoë stood, the can must look as if it were floating in midair over the back of the couch.
“Hale!”
He grinned. Fortunately his sister was used to the way he came and went. “I let myself in.”
He heard her running through the hallway; then suddenly she was there, bounding over the couch—
“Don’t sit! I’m lying down!”
—to settle on the padded armrest opposite him. He concentrated on becoming visible again while she smiled down at him in her raggedy jogging shorts and grungy T-shirt, practically quivering with excitement.
“Hey, Zoëster,” Hale said with a wink.
“Hey, Halester.” She winked back as Elmer pulled himself up the side of the sofa and onto the seat. “I’m so glad to see you! I didn’t think you’d be back ’til after lunch.”
Hellooo? What am I? Chopped liver? Elmer nudged Zoë’s hand with his nose until she stroked his fur and kissed the top of his little head.
“I wish I knew what you were saying, Elmer. If it’s ‘hello,’ then hi right back at you. You’re looking good.”
“Better than you,” Hale said. “What are you wearing?”
“Workout clothes. I just did nine hundred push-ups, eight hundred sit-ups, and spent two hours on the treadmill.” She grinned. “It’s taking longer and longer for me to work up a sweat. Pretty soon I’ll be as good as you.”
Hale laughed. “We’ll see.”
Elmer’s nose wiggled, his whiskers vibrating. Is that . . . ? It is! Perspiration! He craned his little head backward, aiming his deep black eyes at Hale. You never perspire, he said, making it sound like an insult. Mr. Perfectly Pure Protector. I guess only the halflings have to put up with—
“Enough, Elmer.” The little guy really had a knack for getting out of control.
Zoë raised an eyebrow. “What’s he saying?”
“He’s just glad to see you.”
“Uh-huh,” his half sister said with a knowing smile. She slipped off the couch, ending up sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s funny you came into town now. I was just thinking about you the other day.”
“Oh, yeah? Why?” he asked, ready to be entertained. “Did you lose one of your kiddies in the stacks and have to look through a bookcase to find him? Did you manage to eat a pepper without freaking out?” He held out a hand. “I know. You levitated the cat.”
“You shouldn’t tease me about that. Poor Miss Kitty hates me!”
“No comment.”
Zoë grimaced. “She does hate me, doesn’t she? She probably told you.”
“Well, let’s just say you’re not on her favorite-person list. She didn’t mind the levitating part. It was the dropping part that annoyed her.”
“She can spit and howl louder than any cat I’ve known.”
“Well, I can’t blame her. Maybe you should stick with inanimate objects until you get this levitation thing down.”
“I’m doing better.” She plucked Elmer off the couch and settled him in her lap, stroking his fur.
Ah, heaven, he squeaked.
Hale rolled his eyes as Elmer let out a human-size sigh.
Yup, this is the good life. Guess I’m the only one who’s going to get stroked by beautiful women this vacation. The little beast closed his eyes and let his head loll back.
“You’re a talker today,” Zoë said to him. “Why’s he so chatty?”
“Just can’t keep his mouth shut,” Hale snapped, scowling. Unfortunately, Elmer was right. Hale wasn’t on a beach, and wasn’t having suntan oil applied by a gaggle of luscious females out to make his every dream come true. Instead, he was stuck with his sister and a smart-mouthed rodent.
Some ferrets had all the luck.
He blinked, pulling himself back to the conversation. “So what made you think of me?” he asked.
Her hose crinkled, but she didn’t say anything.
“Zoë?” he prodded. She nibbled on her lower lip, and he wondered if she was about to confess to the leaping-from-the-tower stunt.
“Nothing. Really. Can’t I think about my wonderful brother without having some huge reason?”
She’d always been a lousy liar. He tapped a finger against his temple. “Umm . . . I’m gonna go with no.”
She grimaced, then lifted one shoulder in the barest of shrugs. “I was at Mom’s and she was reading your latest book.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Nice pose.”
“Very funny.” When he’d first taken the assignment, no one—not Hale, not the council—had realized just how well suited he was for the job of romance cover model. His popularity sneaked up on them, and by the time the council realized that he wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, Hale’s face—not to mention his arms, chest, back, waist, and thighs—was gracing the covers of countless novels in bookstores and supermarkets across the world.
Hale loved the notoriety, though now, unlike his council brethren, he didn’t fade easily into undercover anonymity. It was a great thing that he could become invisible. Still, the odds that Zoë’s mother’s romance novel had reminded her of him were pretty darn slim.
“I’m not buying it.” Especially not, knowing what he knew.
“What?” she asked, all innocence.
“Give it up, kid. What are you up to?”
“Not the cat . . .”
He sat up straight. “But you levitated something? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Not that big a deal.” She shrugged. “Just some books.”
“Are you kidding? That’s great news.” Zoë needed to get her skills under control. She’d need a firm handle on them if she was going to pass her tests—if she was going to defeat Mordi. “You were practicing?”
“Not exactly.”
He squinted. “What then?”
“I was reshelving. Some books fell. I . . . uh . . . caught them.”
“Well, that’s no big deal. No one saw, right?”
She nibbled on her lower lip. That was not a good sign.
“Zoë? Who saw?”
“Just one of the kids.”
At least that was a relief. “That’s not too bad. It’s revealing yourself to a mortal, true, but since it was a only kid, I don’t—”
“Interfering.”
“What?”
“I interfered. They were gonna whomp her on the head.”
He exhaled. This on top of flying from buildings. His sister certainly knew how to make his life complicated. “You know halflings aren’t supposed to use their powers in public until they’ve been approved by the council! I’m supposed to be mentoring you. You screw up enough and they’ll take it out on me! Not to mention that rule violations get counted against you on your application.”
Not that the council would really turn her down for protecting a kid from falling books. Or e
ven for the tower stunt, for that matter. Saving mortals was their sworn duty, after all. But she would probably end up getting a stern lecture about protocol and procedures—and have to spend a full day in a Surreptitious Defense course.
Zoë’s nose crinkled as she scraped her teeth along her lower lip. “The books would have hurt her. And I didn’t actually try to levitate them. It just . . . happened.” She caught his eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, but he doubted she really meant it. Hell, he would’ve done the same thing.
“Don’t worry. The council isn’t going to get that upset because you tried to save a little girl.”
“Well”—she looked up, meeting his eyes—“the council won’t care about that. . . .”
Hale cocked his head, looking at his half sister’s face. Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly pursed, giving her that bee-stung look that was all the rage—and a hint of color tinted her cheeks. All in all, she looked damned innocent. With Zoë, that had to mean trouble. Was it something he hadn’t already heard about? “Okay. Give.”
She looked a little sheepish. “I worked in some extra practice with my cloak.”
“And?” he asked, urging her on.
“The thing is, I kind of practiced right off a thirty-story building.”
He laughed, breathing an inward sigh of relief. “I was wondering when you’d get around to telling me.”
Her eyes went wide. “You knew?” She hurled a pillow at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m a man of mystery.”
She cocked her head. “So this isn’t really a social call. You’re here to lecture me on rules and stuff.”
Hale hated lying to his sister. Instead he dodged. “Do you need a lecture?”
She shrugged and scrunched down into the corner of the couch, hauling Elmer into her lap. “No. I just couldn’t watch that little boy almost get hit and that woman get mugged and not help. And when I realized it was Mordi—”
“What did you say?” A chill slivered down Hale’s spine and he leaned forward.
Elmer’s whiskers twitched. The Mord-man?
Zoë peered at him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said, knowing he didn’t sound fine at all. “Mordi was there?”
“He mugged the woman. It’s so strange. I mean, Mordi’s always been a little odd, but he’s never been criminal.” She shrugged. “I figure it must have something to do with our testing, but I don’t know what. It’s weird.”
Not weird at all, but he couldn’t tell Zoë that. “Very weird,” he lied, wishing he could tell her she was part of a legend that he was only beginning to truly believe.
Weird? What are you talking about? Have those sneezes rattled your brain? Elmer climbed up the armchair and perched in front of him. If that boy is here, he’s already got a bead on the stone.
“I know that,” Hale said, flashing Elmer a look he hoped telegraphed Be quiet. It must’ve worked, because Elmer looked insulted, then crawled off to hide under the couch. Hale sighed. He’d deal with the sulking rodent later.
“What do you know?” Zoë asked as Elmer’s tail disappeared under the furniture.
“How weird it sounds,” he answered quickly. He couldn’t tell her the truth about Mordi, not until Zephron gave approval. “I know your story sounds weird, but I believe it.” And I’m very, very interested, in the details. “So did he get the purse?”
Zoë shook her head, beaming. “Nope. I got it back from him.”
“Way to go, Zoëster! What about the woman? Did you catch her name?”
“She left before I thought to ask.” Her brow furrowed and she cocked her head to look at him. “So why are you here? Just to lecture me on rules? You totally surprised me yesterday. I thought you were catching rays in Greece this week.”
“Don’t remind me. But as long as I’m here, why don’t we do dinner? I can have Wolfgang Puck’s latest culinary masterpiece while you eat white rice.”
“Um,” she said, then pressed her lips together.
“Um?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well,” she began, drawing out the sound and reminding him of Samantha on Bewitched.
“What?”
“I’ve got a date.”
“A date?” he repeated, aghast. “For the love of Zeus, Zoë. A date? With a mortal? What in Hades are you thinking?”
“I was thinking I needed to find a date or else I’d end up spending the day with some dweeb my mother picked out.”
“Dweebs are good. Dweebs don’t ask questions.” And you’re not likely to fall for one.
“For crying out loud, Hale, it’s just one party.”
“But a mortal—”
Let the girl have a little fun.
Zoë squinted toward the couch, from under which Elmer’s disembodied voice chittered. “What did he say?” she asked.
“Nothing. He’s on my side.”
No, I’m not. I’m—
“You don’t need to be dating mortals,” he said firmly.
Domineering jerk.
“I don’t even know the guy,” Zoë said, looking suspiciously at the space beneath the sofa. “I’m even hiring him, okay? Besides, don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little?”
“Let me fix you up with someone,” he suggested, almost begging.
She scowled at him. “Like who? Like Snydley, the man who can turn his body into rubber? Do you have any idea how hard a guy like that is to fend off when he decides to get frisky?”
Hale held up his hands. “At least he liked you.”
“No, he didn’t. Not really. And that’s the problem. Even if I wanted to go out with a Protector, they don’t want to have anything to do with a halfling.”
“Sure they do. They just—”
But he couldn’t finish. She was right. Only a handful of Protectors would go out with a halfling.
“There’s nothing wrong with mortals,” Zoë protested. “I’m half-mortal, remember?”
“You’re different,” he said, knowing it was a cop-out answer, but unable to put into words just how much . . . well . . . better Protectors were than mortals. And, full-blooded or not, his sister was a Protector. Or would be soon.
Hale might indulge in occasional flings with mortal females, but that was completely different. They were good for his psyche. They kept him on his toes, kept his juices flowing. And there was no way that Hale was ever going to get suckered into thinking that the mundane, humdrum mortal existence was even remotely appealing.
But Zoë.
Well, as . . . she herself had admitted, she was half-mortal, and a fling was just plain dangerous. What if she decided she liked being with a mortal? What if she wanted more than a fling? With a Protector, sure. He could get behind that. He’d even set her up with a buddy.
But a mortal? He stifled a shiver. Zoë could do so much better.
Saving mortals was one thing. Getting into relationships with them was something entirely different. For one thing, mortal-Protector relationships just didn’t work. Take his father and Zoë’s mother for example. Hale had been five years old when Tessa had sent Donis packing, making him promise to leave her alone forever. And a Protector’s promise to a mortal was a sacred thing. So Donis had walked away, even though the entire year before, he had told Hale over and over that the woman would adore him the moment she met him. That Hale would have a mother again, after his had been killed in a secret Protector mission when he was just a baby.
But at the end of the day, there hadn’t been any new mother. Tessa had shut Donis out of her life and never looked back.
Work with a mortal, yes. Bed them, sure. Protect them, always.
Trust them with your heart? Never.
And Zoë needed to learn the hard truth. He spoke in a no-nonsense tone: “Go easy on the mortals, okay? You need to concentrate on your application. On your tests. Now’s not the time to suddenly get distracted by all your wacky senses. Or some good-look
ing mortal.”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’m fine. You don’t have to get all protective and weird on me every time I mention the word date. I know everything you think would happen, and I’m not going to do anything.”
Hale nodded slowly, wishing he could believe her, but it was hard, and the fact was, he was afraid of losing his little sister. If she got involved with a mortal, she just might decide to give up her heritage—to forget about turning in the affidavit—and submit to mortalization.
The possibility was more than a little disturbing. She’d lose her memory, and Hale would lose her. Not only that; there was that whole fate-of-the-world thing to worry about, too.
A mortal Zoë wouldn’t have any chance at all at keeping the stone from Mordi.
No, he’d have to keep a close watch on her. After all, he wanted the best for his little sister.
And the best was definitely not a mortal.
The problem was, if Hale was out looking for the stupid stone, he couldn’t run interference between Zoë and this mortal. He needed an early-warning device. Some way to know if she was falling too hard, too fast.
Some way to get good information on the state of his sister’s love life.
He thought of Elmer, curled up under the sofa.
Looks like his sister was in the pet-sitting business.
And Elmer was back in the sister-watching biz.
Saturday started out rainy, which matched Taylor’s mood. Ever since Zoë had said she was taken, he’d been under a cloud. Now, after almost twenty hours, all he wanted was to chow down on some really unhealthy food and try to forget about her.
Unfortunately, he’d emptied his checking account to pay Lane’s rent. And his credit card wasn’t any help. Declined seemed to be the word of the day. He finally scrounged up a dollar and eighty-five cents in Francis Capra’s glove compartment. Not enough for lobster, but it would get lunch.
He bought a hot dog from a convenience store and topped it with a cheese-food product, all for the bargain-basement price of a buck. Which left him with just enough for a soda to wash the stuff down.
It was just as well Zoë’d turned him down for a date. It wasn’t as if he could afford to take her out, and tap water and crackers didn’t exactly make a stellar impression.
