Aphrodite's Secret (28 page)

“I planned on just leaving,” Aaron explained. “I even got to my car. But you mean too much to me to do that. You said you wanted to talk to me. If you still do, I want to listen.” He looked around at the others self-consciously.

Lane held up a finger, her head spinning. “Yes. Okay. Good. Hold that thought.” She turned to Jason. “Is she right?” She pointed at Zoë.

He stepped forward, his hand held out, imploring. “I was going to tell you. I just—”

“So it is true.” She took a deep breath. “Hieronymous is your
father
.”

“Who the hell is Hieronymous?” Behind her, Aaron had whispered the question, aiming it Zoë‘s direction.

“So what?” Jason explained. “That doesn’t mean I’m like him. I don’t even know him. He didn’t raise me. He didn’t even know I existed for most of my life.”

“Yes, but...” Lane trailed off. Even if everything he said was true, it didn’t make the situation any better. They were talking about Hieronymous, after all.
Hieronymous
. Head evil bad guy. And now to find out he was Davy’s grandfather? She stifled a shiver, anger and fear and general loathing overwhelming her.

But Jason was right. It shouldn’t matter. It
didn’t
matter. After all, Hieronymous was Zoë‘s uncle, and that didn’t make her evil and weird. So, why should Jason be persecuted for it?

He shouldn’t. Jason was who Jason was. He wasn’t his father any more than Lane was the mother she’d never met, the woman who’d abandoned her at a day-care center and never looked back.

But somehow that didn’t make her feel better.

Her gaze shifted from Jason to Aaron, and she nibbled on her lower lip, her insides all twisted up.

“Lane,” Jason said, “listen to me. Hieronymous is the one who kept me away. Hell, he’s the one who blocked every path in my life, even before I knew he was my father.” He met her eyes, and his gaze was cold. “And I will get retribution. You can’t hold who he is against me.”

Lane licked her lips, tears pooling in her eyes. Jason had promised to keep no more secrets, and he’d made that promise knowing he still hadn’t shared the biggest one of all. Who his father was didn’t matter. That he had kept it from her? Frankly, that mattered a lot.

Worse, any illusion she might have been clutching that she and Davy would be first on Jason’s priority list slipped through her fingers and smashed into a million pieces on the floor. She could see it in his eyes—they weren’t his priority. They never would be.

Jason’s priority was revenge.

Part of Jason wanted to scream, part of him wanted to hold Lane close until she trusted him again, and part of him just wanted to head back to Sea World and spend a day or two eating raw fish and frolicking with his
true
friends.

A big part of him, too, wanted to slug Boreas.

The door pushed open farther and Hoop walked in. Jason groaned. He liked the guy just fine, but he was getting further and further away from his fantasy of having Lane alone in a room where she would listen to him.

“Damn,” Hoop said. He pulled a package of Twinkies from a plastic sack and started to tear apart the cellophane wrapper. “I leave for five minutes to go to the corner store and you guys decide to throw a party.” He held out the confection. “Twinkie, anyone?”

Only Deena answered, moving forward and closing her hand around his wrist. “It’s not exactly a party,” she said. “You see, it turns out that Jason is Hieronymous’s son.”

“No kidding?” Hoop gestured toward Aaron. “So whose son is this? Zephron’s?”

“No. He’s here because I need to talk to him,” Lane spoke up. “But I really don’t think now is a good time.”

“Who’s Zephron?” Aaron asked.

“Zephron is who we all need to talk to,” Jason said, turning his back on Aaron and getting to the point. “I’m not working for Hieronymous,” he added, aiming his words at Zoë. “So quit looking at me like I’m the spawn of Satan.”

“Who is Hieronymous?” Aaron asked again, stressing each word, though speaking to no one in particular.

Zoë got right in Jason’s face. He sighed. Apparently she felt the need to overcompensate for her wonky powers. “Then why didn’t you tell us Hieronymous is your father? Come on, Jason. Even if you’re innocent, you must know where we’re coming from. It looks like you were covering for him. And Prigg thinks you’re working with him.”

“With him? Are you nuts? I would have killed him if I had the chance. Instead, he almost killed me.”

“That’s what I said,” Boring piped up. “Prigg doesn’t believe it.”

“Whoa.” Jason turned to scowl at the young Protector. “You
talked
to Prigg? You told him what happened on the island?”

Boreas backed up, looking as sheepish as Aaron looked confused. “I had to turn in a report. It’s required. Regulation nine-three-four-C, subpart J.”

Jason ran a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of everything. “But if you reported what happened, why does Prigg think I let Hieronymous go?”

“He thinks you staged it,” Zoë said.

“And you believe him?”

Zoë nibbled on her lower lip, then leaned against Taylor. “Honestly? I don’t know what to believe. I want to believe you. I really do. But...”

“So, why hasn’t anyone called Zephron?” Taylor asked. “I know the man’s busy, but I think he might be able to get some of this straight.”

“I’ve tried,” Zoë said. “I haven’t been able to catch him. His assistant mentioned another Outcast uprising. I guess he’s got more than just Hieronymous keeping him busy.” She went for the pager at her belt. “I’ll try again.”

“Wait!” Hoop said, galloping across the room to grab the pager. “This guy’s not—”

“What?” Aaron said.

“Interested in Zoë‘s personal calls?” Hoop finished. He shrugged and mouthed to the others, “Sorry. The best I could do.”

“A relative,” Deena explained, jumping in. “Jason’s, uh, relatives are planning a party for Davy for his seventh birthday. And, uh, they’re only inviting family.”

Jason winced, certain he’d never heard a more ridiculous story.

“Uh-huh,” Aaron said, probably thinking the same thing.

Lane blinked but didn’t say a word, looking more than a little clueless.

“It’s been this whole big argument,” Deena continued. “Because, uh, Davy wants me and Hoop to come. But we’re not related. And, um, Lane wanted you to come, too, Aaron. But you’re not related either.”

“You did?” the man asked, smiling at Lane. Jason stifled the urge to slug him.

“Absolutely,” Lane agreed, nodding a bit more energetically than the situation called for.

“Oh,” Aaron said.

“Make sense?” Hoop asked.

“I’m not s—”

“Good,” Lane said. She swung an arm around his shoulder. “Maybe we can talk about it later?”

They were at the door. “I’d like that,” Aaron said. “Breakfast tomorrow?”

Lane pulled open the door even as Jason opened his mouth to say no. “Sure, that would be great,” she said. She urged the man out over the threshold.

Before she could close the door, though, he managed to take her hand and kiss her fingertips. “I don’t know what’s going on here,” he said, “but we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Lane agreed.

The door closed, and she pressed her back against it, her shoulders sagging in relief. “Let’s call Zephron,” she said.

Jason agreed, even though at the moment Jason couldn’t care less about the High Elder. All he wanted to do was run after Aaron and inform the man, in no uncertain terms, that Lane was his and she wouldn’t be going out on dates with anyone else.

Except she was. She was having breakfast with Aaron.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

Lane had heard all about the secret Ops Center deep below the Washington Monument. Every time Zoë and Hale had an encounter with Zephron, that’s where they met him, and since the first time she’d heard about it, Lane had wanted to someday see the installation.

Today, unfortunately, wasn’t going to be that day.

“He’s going to think I’m a slob,” she said, pushing past Hoop to get into the closet next to the door. She shoved aside an ankle-length, black wool coat that was wholly unnecessary in Los Angeles and grabbed the handle of her Hoover vacuum. “This place is a mess.”

With a yank, she managed to free the vacuum, then dragged the cord to the nearest socket. From her half-upside-down position plugging it in, she shot glares at the others in the room. Deena and Hoop, Zoë, Taylor, and Jason all stared back at her, their faces either blank or confused.

“Well?” she prompted.

Deena’s tongue traced the edge of her mouth, cleaning up a tiny bit of filling from the Twinkie she’d snagged from Hoop. “Well, what?”

“Don’t just stand there,” Lane said. “Start picking up some of this clutter.” She swept her arm to indicate the room and all the textbooks, study outlines, and Harry Potter books that covered its every horizontal surface.

Zoë had managed to get through to Zephron, and instead of the High Elder ordering them all to Washington, the grandfatherly old man was coming here. To her apartment. And he would surely arrive any minute.

Here her friends and Jason were, standing around doing nothing.

“Move,” she snapped. She shoved the handle of her vacuum into Jason’s hands. “Clean.” She wiped the palms of her hands on her shorts, her gaze taking in everything of her tiny apartment. This was not the lap of luxury, but it would do. “Okay. I’m going to go make cookies or something.” She had slice-and-bake. Nine minutes for soft and chewy. No problem.

In truth, as much as she wanted to see the Ops Center, she was secretly grateful that Zephron was coming here. And focusing on cleaning for her friends’ head honcho’s arrival meant she didn’t have to think about Jason, his recent revelation, or the rather surprising update to Davy’s family tree.

Jason’s hand closed over her wrist, and she started, looking up at him with surprise. “Uh, Lane,” he said. “Zephron’s not coming here. Just his hologram.” He glanced around the room. “Trust me. He won’t be able to see a thing. Or have any cookies.”

“Oh.” She blinked, reaching out to clutch the vacuum, then hung on to it like a life vest. “Well. Hmmm.”

“We should talk.” His low voice, meant only for her ears, was caressing. She shivered, despite herself.

“Zephron,” she said. “There’s no time. He’ll hologramize or something here any minute.”

“Lane ...” Jason’s voice held a hint of reproach, and she scowled.

“
I’m
not the one keeping secrets,” she snapped. “You’ve had your entire life to get used to the idea of who your father is. At the very least, you owe me twenty minutes to get my thoughts together.”

She never heard his response, because Zoë‘s pager beeped, signaling Zephron’s call. Zoë placed the device on the floor, and it emitted a swirl of light that ultimately solidified, forming a shape. The soft edges of that light faded, leaving only Zephron, glowing like some ethereal creature right in the middle of Lane’s still-unvacuumed seventies-style shag carpeting.

Lane had always thought the Internet was cool, but this hologram was downright amazing.

“I understand Hieronymous has been up to his old tricks,” the High Elder said without preamble. Zephron looked just as Lane had imagined: a kindly grandfather with a hint of Merlin mixed in.

“I had nothing to do with it,” Jason piped up.

Zephron’s eyes softened. “I would never believe that you did.”

Zoë sighed. “I’m sorry about calling you here, but Prigg... and Jason’s father .. . and, well, everything—”

Zephron interrupted. “Would you have the Council judge you by the fact that you’re a halfling? That your uncle is an Outcast? That you are married to a mortal?”

Zoë shook her head, silent.

“And well you should not.” The High Elder straightened, seeming to tower over everyone in the room despite taking up a mere eight inches of space from the floor to the top of his projection. “There are those in the Inner Circle who question Jason’s loyalty. I, myself, do not. Character will prevail.”

Jason sighed. “So, why are you here? Can’t you set Prigg and the Inner Circle straight?”

“The boy,” Zephron said. His hologram turned to Jason. “You are a man and capable of taking care of yourself, of making your own decisions. But the boy needs our protection. Under the circumstances, Hieronymous will surely double his efforts to reacquire the child.”

“Circumstances?” Lane asked, barely able to force the word past the dryness in her throat. She stumbled forward, intent on heading for Davy’s room, just to take a peek, just to make sure he was all right.

Deena’s hand closed over her shoulder. “Stay,” the woman whispered. “I’ll go.”

Lane nodded, grateful to have friends who knew her so well.

“Why?” Jason asked. “What does he want with Davy?”

“His mind,” Zephron explained.

Lane blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The child is brilliant. And he will become more so—perhaps one of the smartest of our kind.”

“It’s true,” Jason said. “Dorothy told me he made a tracking device. That’s how Elmer could help tell me where I could find him.”

Lane shook her head, shocked. None of that made any sense. “Davy made it?” She shook her head, amazed that she’d completely misunderstood what Jason had told her about the Lite-Brite map. “I thought his inventions were just toys,” she said. “I never even suspected—”

“Nor would most mortals,” Zephron said. “But I assure you it is true. And soon his mental prowess will reach the first moment of... adjustment.”

“What’s that?”

“A halfling’s seventh birthday,” Zephron explained.

“I remember that,” Zoë said. “My powers went nuts then.”

“Indeed,” Zephron agreed, smiling at her like a prize pupil. “And so will Davy’s. Unlimited potential. Shifting in his mind. Sorting through the corridors of his brain. Loose energy looking for an anchor.”

“This makes no sense at all,” Lane muttered, harsher than she intended. But, damn them all, this was her son they were talking about. She didn’t need riddles. She needed answers.

As if reading her mind, Zephron aimed his calming smile her way. “Hieronymous seeks to usurp the boy’s power. At midnight on his seventh birthday, that power is, in fact, in flux. With the right equipment, Hieronymous could, shall we say, bottle Davy’s intellect.”