"Aphrodite's_Flame_033" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Thirty

Sometime later, Izzy stood in the shadow of Abraham Lincoln and wondered what to think—about Mordichai, about Banyon, about Hieronymous. About everything.
She wanted to talk it out with Mordi, but he’d answered a holo-page as soon as their meeting with Banyon ended, and she’d felt like an idiot waiting around for him. She did want to talk to him. She didn’t want him to know that. After their movie night, it seemed even more important that she keep up a nice solid wall. Mordichai Black could get through her cracks too easily... and considering she had secrets to keep, Mordi was a complication she really didn’t need.
“I thought I’d find you here.” His voice. Right here.
Izzy jumped, then spun around, heart beating in her throat. “What are you doing, sneaking up on people like that?”
He shrugged. “It’s a free country. I’m admiring the monuments.”
She stared him down.
The corner of Mordi’s mouth twitched, just a hint of a smile. For some inexplicable reason, that really ticked her off. “Am I amusing you?” she demanded.
“As a matter of fact, yeah.” And then he laughed, and instead of lashing out, slapping him, or stomping away in a huff, Izzy found herself laughing, too. Must be nerves.
“Are you going to clue me in?” she asked, trying hard to pull herself together.
“Depends,” he said. “What are your other powers?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Because I’m pretty sure that if I tell you why I was laughing, you’re going to wallop me. And if super strength is in your repertoire, I’d just as soon keep my mouth shut.”
She bit back a smile. “No super strength,” she acknowledged. “And I can’t turn you into a toad or give you a rash, or—”
“There are Protectors who can do that? Turn someone else into a toad?”
She flashed an innocent smile. “I’m sorry. That information is on a need-to-know basis only.” In truth, she had no idea at all. At the moment, though, she could see dozens of uses for just such a power. “Just tell me.”
“You’re cute.”
“Jumping Jupiter, Mordi, would you just—”
“No, that’s what I was thinking about. Earlier. That’s what you wanted to know.”
She peered at him, totally confused. “That’s why you were smiling? Because you thought I was cute?”
“ ‘Fraid so.”
“And you thought I would hit you? What? Did you just assume I can’t take a compliment?”
“I’ll take the Fifth.”
At that, she laughed outright, even though she knew she really shouldn’t encourage him. She tried to pull herself together and look stern. “So. Why did you come looking for me?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?” Mentally she cringed. She wanted to keep him at a distance, yes, but right now she was coming off like a bitch.
He looked at her as if she’d gone a little nuts. Maybe she had. “Oh, I don’t know. The weather. Who’s going to win the Academy Awards. Great literature. What in Hades do you think I want to talk about?”
She scowled and moved toward Lincoln’s plaque, pretending to study the inscription. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”
“On the contrary, there seems to be every need for sarcasm.”
She drew a breath. “Okay. Fine. Sorry. I’m just a little off today.”
“Why?”
Genuine concern swirled around him, and she relaxed just a little, waving the question away. “Nothing. Sorry. Just lost in my own world.” That was a lie, of course. But while she might know if he was lying, she sincerely doubted that he could read her well enough to have a clue. “What did you want to talk to me about?” She asked only in the interest of politeness. She already knew what he was going to say.
“My father, of course,” he said, exactly as she’d known he would. There were times when her particular power really took the fun out of life.
“Why did you agree with me about your father? I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you haven’t changed your mind since yesterday.”
He laughed. “A sad commentary. I didn’t realize I came off as so obstinate.”
She didn’t answer, just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
“I want the treaty to pass,” he finally said. “Banyon’s skittish.”
“So you fibbed.”
“I fibbed,” he admitted. “I lied for the greater good. Or maybe I withheld information for the greater good. Either way, my motives were pure.” He fixed his gaze on her. “Can you understand that?”
She licked her lips. Did he know? “I, um, yeah. I think I can.”
“So tell me about the inkblot test.” He stared at her, but she sensed no doubt, no underlying question.
She decided to simply state the obvious. “Mordi, the man’s passed every test we’ve thrown his direction.” She tossed in a casual shrug, just for effect.
“But?”
She looked up sharply, the question actually coming unexpectedly. He caught the reaction, and she cursed herself.
“Then there is something,” he said, triumph in his voice. She realized then why she hadn’t picked up on any scents of doubt. He had none. He was just fishing.
She, like an idiot, had taken the bait. “There’s nothing,” she said. And though she spoke firmly, in truth, she might be lying. She didn’t know. Couldn’t be sure. And that uncertainty ate at her gut.
Hieronymous had hesitated on two answers. Ultimately, his response had been positive, well within the range she’d hoped, and she’d given him a passing— even high—score on the test.
Something, though...
Still, something bothered her. She tried to push the feeling away, but it persisted, nagging at her like an unsatisfied itch.
Was Hieronymous faking?
Was his application part of a huge ruse, and she was merely a pawn?
No. She couldn’t believe that. She’d seen his sincerity, felt it with her entire being. She couldn’t be wrong. She couldn’t.
Her empathic abilities had earned her this promotion. Even more, those abilities had gotten her admitted to the Council despite her pitifully lacking levitation skills. She knew that, and because of it, she could hold her head up when other Protectors whispered about her, saying she wasn’t quite up to snuff and that her uncle had pulled strings.
She trusted her power, relied on it. And she needed it for more than just her job. She needed it for herself.
Because if she was wrong—if she couldn’t trust what she’d seen in his soul—then that meant the mean-spirited whispers were right: She really wasn’t up to snuff.
And that was something she simply wouldn’t believe.

Chapter Thirty

Sometime later, Izzy stood in the shadow of Abraham Lincoln and wondered what to think—about Mordichai, about Banyon, about Hieronymous. About everything.
She wanted to talk it out with Mordi, but he’d answered a holo-page as soon as their meeting with Banyon ended, and she’d felt like an idiot waiting around for him. She did want to talk to him. She didn’t want him to know that. After their movie night, it seemed even more important that she keep up a nice solid wall. Mordichai Black could get through her cracks too easily... and considering she had secrets to keep, Mordi was a complication she really didn’t need.
“I thought I’d find you here.” His voice. Right here.
Izzy jumped, then spun around, heart beating in her throat. “What are you doing, sneaking up on people like that?”
He shrugged. “It’s a free country. I’m admiring the monuments.”
She stared him down.
The corner of Mordi’s mouth twitched, just a hint of a smile. For some inexplicable reason, that really ticked her off. “Am I amusing you?” she demanded.
“As a matter of fact, yeah.” And then he laughed, and instead of lashing out, slapping him, or stomping away in a huff, Izzy found herself laughing, too. Must be nerves.
“Are you going to clue me in?” she asked, trying hard to pull herself together.
“Depends,” he said. “What are your other powers?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Because I’m pretty sure that if I tell you why I was laughing, you’re going to wallop me. And if super strength is in your repertoire, I’d just as soon keep my mouth shut.”
She bit back a smile. “No super strength,” she acknowledged. “And I can’t turn you into a toad or give you a rash, or—”
“There are Protectors who can do that? Turn someone else into a toad?”
She flashed an innocent smile. “I’m sorry. That information is on a need-to-know basis only.” In truth, she had no idea at all. At the moment, though, she could see dozens of uses for just such a power. “Just tell me.”
“You’re cute.”
“Jumping Jupiter, Mordi, would you just—”
“No, that’s what I was thinking about. Earlier. That’s what you wanted to know.”
She peered at him, totally confused. “That’s why you were smiling? Because you thought I was cute?”
“ ‘Fraid so.”
“And you thought I would hit you? What? Did you just assume I can’t take a compliment?”
“I’ll take the Fifth.”
At that, she laughed outright, even though she knew she really shouldn’t encourage him. She tried to pull herself together and look stern. “So. Why did you come looking for me?”
“I wanted to talk with you.”
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?” Mentally she cringed. She wanted to keep him at a distance, yes, but right now she was coming off like a bitch.
He looked at her as if she’d gone a little nuts. Maybe she had. “Oh, I don’t know. The weather. Who’s going to win the Academy Awards. Great literature. What in Hades do you think I want to talk about?”
She scowled and moved toward Lincoln’s plaque, pretending to study the inscription. “There’s no need for sarcasm.”
“On the contrary, there seems to be every need for sarcasm.”
She drew a breath. “Okay. Fine. Sorry. I’m just a little off today.”
“Why?”
Genuine concern swirled around him, and she relaxed just a little, waving the question away. “Nothing. Sorry. Just lost in my own world.” That was a lie, of course. But while she might know if he was lying, she sincerely doubted that he could read her well enough to have a clue. “What did you want to talk to me about?” She asked only in the interest of politeness. She already knew what he was going to say.
“My father, of course,” he said, exactly as she’d known he would. There were times when her particular power really took the fun out of life.
“Why did you agree with me about your father? I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that you haven’t changed your mind since yesterday.”
He laughed. “A sad commentary. I didn’t realize I came off as so obstinate.”
She didn’t answer, just stared at him, one eyebrow raised.
“I want the treaty to pass,” he finally said. “Banyon’s skittish.”
“So you fibbed.”
“I fibbed,” he admitted. “I lied for the greater good. Or maybe I withheld information for the greater good. Either way, my motives were pure.” He fixed his gaze on her. “Can you understand that?”
She licked her lips. Did he know? “I, um, yeah. I think I can.”
“So tell me about the inkblot test.” He stared at her, but she sensed no doubt, no underlying question.
She decided to simply state the obvious. “Mordi, the man’s passed every test we’ve thrown his direction.” She tossed in a casual shrug, just for effect.
“But?”
She looked up sharply, the question actually coming unexpectedly. He caught the reaction, and she cursed herself.
“Then there is something,” he said, triumph in his voice. She realized then why she hadn’t picked up on any scents of doubt. He had none. He was just fishing.
She, like an idiot, had taken the bait. “There’s nothing,” she said. And though she spoke firmly, in truth, she might be lying. She didn’t know. Couldn’t be sure. And that uncertainty ate at her gut.
Hieronymous had hesitated on two answers. Ultimately, his response had been positive, well within the range she’d hoped, and she’d given him a passing— even high—score on the test.
Something, though...
Still, something bothered her. She tried to push the feeling away, but it persisted, nagging at her like an unsatisfied itch.
Was Hieronymous faking?
Was his application part of a huge ruse, and she was merely a pawn?
No. She couldn’t believe that. She’d seen his sincerity, felt it with her entire being. She couldn’t be wrong. She couldn’t.
Her empathic abilities had earned her this promotion. Even more, those abilities had gotten her admitted to the Council despite her pitifully lacking levitation skills. She knew that, and because of it, she could hold her head up when other Protectors whispered about her, saying she wasn’t quite up to snuff and that her uncle had pulled strings.
She trusted her power, relied on it. And she needed it for more than just her job. She needed it for herself.
Because if she was wrong—if she couldn’t trust what she’d seen in his soul—then that meant the mean-spirited whispers were right: She really wasn’t up to snuff.
And that was something she simply wouldn’t believe.