"Aphrodite's_Flame_046" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenner _Julie_-_[Protector_04]_-_Aphrodite's_Flame_(V1.0)_[lit](multi-file html))

Chapter Forty-three

“We should have shut him down,” Mordi said.
Izzy shrugged. She’d thought the same thing at the time, but then dismissed it. Normally, protocol required a Protector to avoid the mortal news media as much as possible. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
“The media was already there,” she said. “It would have caused a furor if we’d pulled him out.” She frowned. “Besides, I think the only way to have gotten him out would be to use some of our powers or our cloaks, or to call in a retrieval team. And any one of those acts would have created just as much of a stir.”
Mordi frowned, but he didn’t look convinced. They were back in her office, waiting for Hieronymous to finish his debriefing with the Council elders. It wasn’t standard procedure by any means, but considering who Hieronymous was, the elders had decided the meeting was prudent.
Mordi and Izzy had retired to her office and drafted their reports, taking turns at her computer. They’d been finished for almost ten minutes, and there was still no sign of Hieronymous.
“It may be a media nightmare, but frankly, I think this may have been the best thing that could have happened,” Izzy said.
Mordi blinked, his entire being emitting a total lack of comprehension.
“For the treaty, I mean. You heard what Banyon said. The mortals in-the-know fear the Outcasts, and your father is the biggest Outcast of all. If the emissaries see that he’s suddenly rescuing mortal children—”
“Well, sure. Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“My father’s no hero. He’s just as conniving and devious as ever. More, even, since he’s actually willing to be nice to mortals if it gets him what he wants.”
Izzy gaped at him. “You still think he’s faking?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Faking?” she repeated, feeling slightly idiotic. But really, hadn’t he seen the man jump to action?
“Is there an echo in here?”
She drew in a breath. “Look, Mordichai, I understand that you and your father have some issues—”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“—but you can’t turn your back on reality.”
“No,” Mordi said, “that’s your job.”
Anger whipped through her. “Dammit, Mordi. Don’t you trust me even a little bit?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. I want to. But...”
“ ‘But?’ ” she repeated, her blood turning cold. Suddenly, it dawned on her. “You think I’m working with him! That your father has some ridiculous plot, and I’m in on it!” Oh, sweet Hera, had he simply been using her? Was she simply a pawn in some giant investigation? And she’d slept with him—made love with him—while he was simply doing his job!
“Dammit, Izzy, take a step back and tell me how it looks.”
“I have told you how it looks. I’ve seen inside your father’s head, and he looks sincere. But you don’t trust me. You either think I’m incompetent or that I’m lying, and—”
“No,” he said.
She glared at him, but didn’t say anything.
“Iz, I know my father. Maybe you should try listening to me. Or are you the one who’s not trusting?”
“You know what? I was factoring in your opinion—I really was. But did you miss what happened yesterday? He saved those kids!”
“Posturing.”
“I don’t agree,” she said.
The intercom buzzed, and Isole’s assistant announced that Elder Bilius requested her presence in his office. “Thanks,” she said into the speaker, relieved to have an excuse to leave. The tension between her and Mordi was impossibly thick, making her usually cozy office feel small, as if the walls were closing in. She needed some time alone, needed to think, to sort everything out.
“Izzy,” Mordi said as she opened the door. It was just her name, but his voice held a question. She turned back to him and waited. “I’ll pick you up after work?”
Isole swallowed. She’d agreed to go with him to a rehearsal dinner for two friends of his in Los Angeles who were getting married. They were supposed to catch the Council shuttle there, then stay the night on Mordi’s brother’s houseboat. Now, though ...
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m up to it.” She looked at the floor, not willing to meet his eyes. “Besides, it sounds like Bilius is going to have me working late.”
“You’re sure?” Mordi asked, and she understood that he was talking about more than just the rehearsal dinner.
She wasn’t. She wasn’t sure at all. But she didn’t say anything; she just nodded. And then she stepped into the hall and let the door shut behind her.

Chapter Forty-three

“We should have shut him down,” Mordi said.
Izzy shrugged. She’d thought the same thing at the time, but then dismissed it. Normally, protocol required a Protector to avoid the mortal news media as much as possible. But these weren’t normal circumstances.
“The media was already there,” she said. “It would have caused a furor if we’d pulled him out.” She frowned. “Besides, I think the only way to have gotten him out would be to use some of our powers or our cloaks, or to call in a retrieval team. And any one of those acts would have created just as much of a stir.”
Mordi frowned, but he didn’t look convinced. They were back in her office, waiting for Hieronymous to finish his debriefing with the Council elders. It wasn’t standard procedure by any means, but considering who Hieronymous was, the elders had decided the meeting was prudent.
Mordi and Izzy had retired to her office and drafted their reports, taking turns at her computer. They’d been finished for almost ten minutes, and there was still no sign of Hieronymous.
“It may be a media nightmare, but frankly, I think this may have been the best thing that could have happened,” Izzy said.
Mordi blinked, his entire being emitting a total lack of comprehension.
“For the treaty, I mean. You heard what Banyon said. The mortals in-the-know fear the Outcasts, and your father is the biggest Outcast of all. If the emissaries see that he’s suddenly rescuing mortal children—”
“Well, sure. Don’t you get it?”
“Get what?”
“My father’s no hero. He’s just as conniving and devious as ever. More, even, since he’s actually willing to be nice to mortals if it gets him what he wants.”
Izzy gaped at him. “You still think he’s faking?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Faking?” she repeated, feeling slightly idiotic. But really, hadn’t he seen the man jump to action?
“Is there an echo in here?”
She drew in a breath. “Look, Mordichai, I understand that you and your father have some issues—”
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“—but you can’t turn your back on reality.”
“No,” Mordi said, “that’s your job.”
Anger whipped through her. “Dammit, Mordi. Don’t you trust me even a little bit?”
“As a matter of fact, I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. I want to. But...”
“ ‘But?’ ” she repeated, her blood turning cold. Suddenly, it dawned on her. “You think I’m working with him! That your father has some ridiculous plot, and I’m in on it!” Oh, sweet Hera, had he simply been using her? Was she simply a pawn in some giant investigation? And she’d slept with him—made love with him—while he was simply doing his job!
“Dammit, Izzy, take a step back and tell me how it looks.”
“I have told you how it looks. I’ve seen inside your father’s head, and he looks sincere. But you don’t trust me. You either think I’m incompetent or that I’m lying, and—”
“No,” he said.
She glared at him, but didn’t say anything.
“Iz, I know my father. Maybe you should try listening to me. Or are you the one who’s not trusting?”
“You know what? I was factoring in your opinion—I really was. But did you miss what happened yesterday? He saved those kids!”
“Posturing.”
“I don’t agree,” she said.
The intercom buzzed, and Isole’s assistant announced that Elder Bilius requested her presence in his office. “Thanks,” she said into the speaker, relieved to have an excuse to leave. The tension between her and Mordi was impossibly thick, making her usually cozy office feel small, as if the walls were closing in. She needed some time alone, needed to think, to sort everything out.
“Izzy,” Mordi said as she opened the door. It was just her name, but his voice held a question. She turned back to him and waited. “I’ll pick you up after work?”
Isole swallowed. She’d agreed to go with him to a rehearsal dinner for two friends of his in Los Angeles who were getting married. They were supposed to catch the Council shuttle there, then stay the night on Mordi’s brother’s houseboat. Now, though ...
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’m up to it.” She looked at the floor, not willing to meet his eyes. “Besides, it sounds like Bilius is going to have me working late.”
“You’re sure?” Mordi asked, and she understood that he was talking about more than just the rehearsal dinner.
She wasn’t. She wasn’t sure at all. But she didn’t say anything; she just nodded. And then she stepped into the hall and let the door shut behind her.