Aphrodite's Flame (32 page)

“
Now
!” Mordi shouted.

She gathered her energy, pictured the door in her mind, and reached out, feeling its weight, its density, trying to become the door. Nothing happened, though, and she had to fight tears—fight to concentrate—because she would
not
disappoint Mordi.

Then everything felt hot and red, and she realized that Mordi had let loose with his fire. She jerked forward, suddenly free from the squealing Henchmen, and scrambled up and over the rocks. She didn’t think about where she was going. She only concentrated on diving through the gap, or moving—and on keeping that door in her head.

The pulley strained and groaned above, its terrible noise echoing through the catacombs as she reached Mordi. He was obviously spent, but he grabbed her arm. “It’s heavy. But you can do it.”

Behind them, one of the Henchman—now a shrieking flaming mass—was clamoring up the rocks behind them.

“Come on,” she yelled, and they ran toward the door.

There were only about twelve inches of clearance now, but she concentrated with all her heart and soul, stronger with the knowledge that Mordi believed in her.

And it worked. She couldn’t quite believe it. In fact, she was so amazed that she almost came to a dead stop, but Mordi tugged her on. They slid under the heavy stone, pushing their bodies beneath; her moving more slowly on her bad ankle, and the burning Henchman right on their heels.

“I can’t hold it anymore,” she cried. She heard the squeal of the pulley, righting to let the stone descend.

“I’m clear!” Mordi shouted, and then his hands curled around her underarms and he pulled. She shot forward into his embrace, and into the clear, just as the stone door finally crashed to the ground. It destroyed the last, persistent Henchman, cutting him in half with a satisfying
squish
.

Izzy’s breath was ragged as she collapsed against Mordi. She pressed her face into his chest and simply breathed in his scent. “I knew you’d come,” she said again.

“Always,” he said, stroking her hair. “Forevermore.”

She pulled away, just enough to look in his eyes, then smiled. “So, you didn’t manage to pull all that off at the end just so you wouldn’t have to spend eternity with me in a catacomb, did you?”

His smile matched hers, and he pulled her close. “You know, now that I think about it, eternity with you in close quarters sounds pretty darned appealing.”

For her part, Izzy completely agreed.

Mordi had never been a particularly sentimental sort, but even he had to admit that Deena and Hoop’s wedding was beautiful. Deena glowed, and a tuxedo made even Hoop look dashing. And through the entire ceremony, Mordi wasn’t able to do anything else except imagine what he’d look like in a tux ... and what Izzy would look like dressed all in white.

The band was playing now, and the bride and groom were dancing. “Shall we?” Isole whispered, leaning over so close that Mordi caught the delectable scent of her hair. He’d awakened that morning to that clean, soapy smell.

He wanted to awaken that way
every
morning.

“Mordi?” Izzy prompted. Her blue eyes were wide, sparkling with anticipation of a spin around the dance floor.

“Let’s sit this one out, okay?”

She frowned, but didn’t argue. “Okay.” She touched his arm. “You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”

At that, he couldn’t help but smile. “Just the opposite. Everything is perfect. I just want to sit here. With you.”

She seemed to understand, and she scooted closer, then took his hand. They sat like that for a few minutes, watching their friends move across the dance floor, just soaking in the atmosphere of celebration and love.

When the band took a short break, Zephron came over and put his arm around his niece. “I will say again what excellent work you two did.”

Color rose on Izzy’s cheek; she didn’t seem to take compliments well. She’d have to get over that, Mordi thought. He intended to shower her in them.

“I’m glad you came to the wedding, Uncle Zephron,” Izzy said. “I’ve heard all of Deena and Hoop’s stories, and even though they’re mortal, they’ve helped save the world so many times. I know they’re honored you’re here.”

“And I’m honored to be invited.” He handed over a small folder of papers. “Since I knew you would be here, too, I decided to take this opportunity to once and for all disabuse you of certain notions.”

As Mordi watched, Isole flipped through the papers, her expression first confused, then shifting to wary joy. “Is this true?” she asked, and he had to fight not to ask what they were talking about.

“It was never me,” Zephron said. “It’s true, you weren’t able to acknowledge levitation on your affidavit, but the committee considered your application without any regard to your familial relationships.”

Mordi frowned, not understanding. “You can’t levitate? I
saw
you levitate.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not so much of a problem anymore. And I think I’m over the claustrophobia, too.” She handed the folder back to Zephron. “It’s sweet of you to do this, but it wasn’t necessary. I finally proved my worth. To myself, at least. And that’s what counts.”

Mordi squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back.

He wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about, but he of all people knew just how much it meant to be able to prove—really prove—that you belonged where you wanted to belong.

“What happened to my father?” he asked.

Zephron almost smiled. “For Hieronymous, I’d say a punishment worse than death. But you already knew that, and it wasn’t what you were asking.”

“No,” Mordi agreed, “but you’re right.”

“Because of the nature of that reverse-polarization device, the memory-swipe feature didn’t engage. Thus, your father still is somewhat dangerous, as he knows many of our secrets. His intellect, however, has faded, and I’m not entirely certain he would know how to launch a full attack even if he wanted to. We will keep an eye on him, of course. Clyde and Romulus are still at large and may try to contact him. But I don’t consider him much of a threat anymore. And right now, we’re simply trying to instruct him on the basics of mortal life. After that—” Zephron held out his hands in question. “After that, we’re not sure. Though there are some excellent training programs at many of the finer mortal fast-food establishments.”

Izzy laughed, then quickly became serious again. “And Patel?” Izzy said. “Is he in a lot of trouble?”

“Frankly, no. Hieronymous captured his sister just as he’d captured your father. The placement of the pens was an exchange. Patel should have handled it better, of course, but his punishment will not be as severe.”

“Good,” Izzy said.

“And the treaty negotiations?” Mordi asked. “Still stalled?” So far, every morning the
Daily Protector
reported the same thing.

“Officially,” Zephron said. “But I can tell you in confidence that I am highly optimistic.”

“Good,” Mordi said. “I’m not terribly political, but I’ll admit to wanting the revised treaty to pass just because it would tick off my father.”

This time, Mordi was certain that Zephron smiled. “I cannot say I share your motives,” Zephron said. “At least, as High Elder, I cannot say that in public.”

Mordi and Izzy both laughed, and then the band started up again. Mordi nodded briefly to Zephron, then laid a hand on Isole’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us,” he said to Zephron, “I think they’re playing our song.”

He led her onto the floor, and she clung to him as they swayed in time with the music. Zoë and Taylor were out there as well, along with Hale and Tracy, who had Elmer perched on her shoulder. Jason and Lane were sitting this one out, and Jason was massaging Lane’s swollen ankles. Deena’s brother Nick was sipping a Scotch by the bar, his wife Maggie drinking a glass of milk.

For so many years, Mordi had been removed from this group, distanced by his own foolish choices. He was here for good now, though, and at the moment, Mordi was certain that he’d discovered the real meaning of happiness: dancing in a room surrounded by friends and family, with the woman he loved in his arms.

Because, really, life couldn’t get much better than that. And to prove the point, he bent down and kissed her.

She kissed him back, her enthusiasm equal to his own. And as he lost himself to the kiss, Mordi learned a new lesson in physics—fire and ice each equaled the other out... and when he and Izzy kissed, all that was left was the love.

JULIE KENNER

A happily-ever-after aficionado, Julie Kenner unabashedly cries at long-distance telephone and soup commercials. She and her husband currently live in Austin, Texas, with their daughter and the five cats who’ve deigned to share the house.

Julie would love to hear from you. You can write her at P.O. Box 151417, Austin, TX 78715-1417, or e-mail her at
[email protected]
. You can also visit her website at
www.juliekenner.com
.