Hale didn’t need this. He really, really didn’t need this.

With a groan, he leaned his forehead against the cool door of the refrigerator in Zoe’s kitchen. “What kind of an idiot agrees to chase down missing fashion accessories?”

Beside him, tiny toenails skittered toward him on the formica countertop. Your kind of idiot, that’s who.

True enough. Not that he’d had a choice. For one thing, Zoe might be in danger, and he wanted to keep an eye on her. For another, saying no to Zephron wasn’t a viable option.

In a perfect world, he’d be lying on a beach right about now without a worry in the world. No council duties. No photo shoots. No responsibilities whatsoever. Nothing to do except kick back and soak up a few Mediterranean rays. Maybe bounce up to council headquarters for an unbelievable meal or two. A little wine, a little ambrosia. Watch half-naked mortal women running around sun-bleached beaches in barely-there thong bikinis.

In other words, all the normal, typical, run-of-the-mill perks of being a young, virile, kick-ass superhero.

At least, that had been his plan. But did he get to do any of it? Any rays? Any thongs? Anything at all?

No, sir. No way. No how.

Instead he got stuck with helping his sister save the world.

A dirty job, but somebody had to do it.

Thank goodness for room service. At least there were some perks on this trip.

“I don’t even know where to begin looking for this stone, not to mention keeping an eye on Zoe.” He scowled at the empty apartment. She’d known he was going to drop by, where in Hades had she run off to?

Lucky you. Your sister’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Hale glared at Elmer, who managed a little ferret shrug.

Not that I don’t adore the girl. . .

Hale closed his eyes and thumped his head three times against the fridge. “This sucks.”

The food selection? Your klutzy sister? Or were you referring to a philosophical state of suckiness?

Hale scowled at Elmer, who scurried back until he could jump from the counter to the floor. He balanced on his two rear legs, looking up at Hale with a supercilious expression.

“Being a superhero is supposed to be about stopping out-of-control trains, rescuing beautiful maidens, seeking out evil and squashing it like a bug under my thumb. It is not supposed to be about tracking down oversize green pendants that look like rejects from the Home Shopping Network.”

Where’d you hear that? The superhero handbook?

“The Web page, actually.”

The ferret’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Amazing. He’d actually stumped the furry little guy.

“I’m kidding,” he said. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m just worried about my sister.”

Annoyed about missing your vacation, more likely.

Hale couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “Maybe. La-La Land doesn’t exactly compare to Greece.”

Speak for yourself. I, for one, prefer Hollywood. The whiskers twitched. Do you think I could get a commercial? Maybe a sitcom? His voice went wistful. I could be the lovable but rambunctious family pet.

Hale groaned, then stifled a sneeze. “No.” His sister was living with mortals and quite possibly held the fate of all of them in her back pocket, and his ferret friend had picked this opportunity to go mental. Not what he needed today. “Besides, we’re not going to be here long enough for you to strike up an acting career.”

You said indefinitely.

“Well, not that indefinitely. If this legend’s right, then everything will come to a head by next Tuesday at midnight.”

Wednesday.

“What?”

I knew you’d get confused. It’s the midnight between Tuesday and Wednesday, not Monday and Tuesday.

Hale rolled his eyes. “I think I can keep the days of the week straight.”

Elmer didn’t look convinced. Whatever. Either way, the point is the eclipse, right?

“Exactly.” A rather rare and mystical event.

And His Supreme Uppityness says that whatever dastardly deeds your uncle and Mordichai are up to will happen then.

“Zephron’ll make me put you in a petting zoo if he hears you call him that.” Yet Elmer was right. The bottom line? For the time being, his vacation was MIA. Instead of being in Greece, he was hanging in his sister’s apartment. Instead of soaking up the sun, he was going to raid Zoe’s cabinets in search of more breakfast. He’d had Eggs Benedict at the hotel but that had been two hours ago and he was starving. Superheroes needed to eat to keep up their strength.

He flung open the cabinet over the coffeemaker. Tupperware. Tiny little Tupperware containers. And all of them empty.

Frustrated, he yanked open another cabinet and started plowing through the bottles and boxes. He found some really old crackers. A box of plain Quaker oatmeal. Four bags of rice cakes.

Clearly he should have had lunch at the hotel.

“How does she live on this stuff?” He shoved aside a box of Earl Grey tea and—yes, finally—found a bag of Oreos. “I’m amazed she hasn’t died of starvation.”

Perhaps she has a more discriminating palate.

“Perhaps she’s a wimp.”

You might have more sympathy if you shared her particular trait. It can’t be easy experiencing each sense so . . . vividly.

Hale frowned, ignoring Elmer, who probably considered his silence a victory. But Hale just wasn’t going to get into this with the little rat. He’d already done it too many times with Zoe herself.

With the bag in one hand and a diet soda tucked under his arm, Hale headed back to her living room, his nose twitching as he tried to stave off a massive allergy attack. He dumped Elmer into the recliner—

You could try to be a little gentler.

—then crashed on Zoe’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 Zoe’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 Zoe 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, Zoester,” 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 Zoe’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.

Zoe 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.”

Zoe 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,” Zoe 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 nose crinkled, but she didn’t say anything.

“Zoe?” 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 Zoe’s mother’s romance novel had reminded her of him were pretty damn 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.” Zoe 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. “Zoe? 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 even 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.

Zoe’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 Zoe, 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?

Zoe 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 Zoe 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?” Zoe 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?”

Zoe shook her head, beaming. “Nope. I got it back from him.”

“Way to go, Zoester! 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?”

“Um,” she said, then pressed her lips together.

“Um?”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” she began, drawing out the sound.

“What?”

“I’ve got a date.”

“A date?” he repeated, aghast. “For the love of Zeus, Zoe. 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.

Zoe 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,” Zoe 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,” Zoe 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 Zoe.

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. Zoe 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 Zoe’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 Zoe 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-looking 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, 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 Zoe 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 Zoe 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 Zoe 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 Zoe’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.

Still, he would have liked to just spend time with her. Maybe drive around the mountains. Take in the view. Ride bikes along the beach.

Taken. He should have known, should’ve guessed. But the thought hadn’t even entered his mind until he’d watched Zoe laughing with Baywatch boy in the Ferrari. He’d seen her, and his testosterone level had skyrocketed. Woman-mine had pretty much been his Neanderthal way of thinking. And it depressed the hell out of him to know that some other caveman had already claimed his female.

Now, with Zoe on the brain, he headed for the Beverly Hills Hotel to keep his meeting with his new mystery client. He parked out front, and was just finishing his not-so-gourmet lunch when someone rapped on the window. Taylor rolled it down, ignoring the light rain that blew in. It was probably someone wanting him to move his car. “I’m not blocking traffic. I’ll be out of here in less than five minutes.”

“Mr. Taylor? I’m your appointment.”

The cultured voice was familiar, and Taylor groaned. “Sorry. Hop on in.”

The man circled around to the passenger side. The door opened and a slightly damp man with a hangdog expression slid into the car.

“I thought we were meeting in the hotel.”

“I saw you and decided to grasp the opportunity.”

Taylor grimaced, not sure he liked this guy’s style. Still, if the guy really had a job for him . . .

He sighed, giving in to curiosity. “So tell me about this jewel, Mr. . . .

“Mord—Mordon.” He held out his hand. “Mr. Mordon.” Taylor shoved the last bite of hot dog into his mouth and took Mordon’s hand. It was cold and clammy. On top of that, he almost felt certain he’d seen this guy’s green eyes watching him before. They were creepy eyes, the kind that seemed to look straight through him. But that was crazy.

And yet Taylor didn’t trust the fellow. He was just about to open his mouth to say “Thanks, but no, thanks,” when the guy pulled out a wallet and withdrew five hundred-dollar bills, laying them on the dashboard.

“An advance on your fee.”

Taylor looked from the money to the guy, then back. He shrugged. Trust was highly overrated in the investigator-client relationship. So what if the guy was a little smarmy? He could live with smarmy so long as the bills got paid. And this guy was only looking for a jewel, not dirt on a perfectly nice woman.

“Okay. I’m in. You got a picture or something?”

“I tracked it to a thrift store,” the man said, “but was . . . unable to catch up with the woman who purchased it.” He pulled a Polaroid out of his jacket and passed it to Taylor.

“This is the stone?” Lane’s ugly pendant? Oh, man. This was just priceless. Lane would freak when she found out her necklace was going to pull down ten grand.

“That’s right. As I said, a young woman bought it from a thrift store, but I was unable to obtain the necklace from her.”

Taylor tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You’re really planning on paying me ten grand to find this?”

“I certainly am.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I told you. It’s an heirloom.” He smiled. “I assure you there is nothing nefarious. The stone has been in my family for . . . well, let’s just say even a museum would be interested in a piece like this.”

“And the ten grand is for locating it?”

“Correct.”

“Just locating it.” Maybe this client did come from a family that could trace its roots back to Cro-Magnon man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to pull one over on Taylor.

“As I said, correct.”

“So how are you going to get it after that?”

“Why, my dear Mr. Taylor. I will purchase it, of course.” Bingo. If Mordon here was willing to pay ten Gs just to find the thing, he’d surely pay even more to Lane to get it back. This was a man with some serious cash. And he wasn’t proposing anything too shady. . . .

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Taylor?”

“Yup. I think we do.”

“Fine.” Mordon turned in his seat to face Taylor more directly. “I might suggest you begin with the shopkeeper and try to track down the woman who bought it.”

“You might,” Taylor snapped, then waved away the smart-ass comment. “Sorry.” The guy might be pushy, but he was paying the bills. “I mean, it’s a good idea, but I have a feeling I’ll have your necklace back to you sooner than you imagine.”

Mordon inclined his head, and Taylor had the uncomfortable sensation that he was being sized up. “I see.” The man opened the passenger door. “Then I’ll leave you to it, Mr. Taylor.”

“You got a card or something? A phone number?”

“I’ll be in touch.”

Taylor shrugged. The guy already gave him the creeps. If he wanted to play the dark and mysterious client, Taylor wasn’t going to argue. “Whatever.”

“Excellent.” Mordon stepped out into the drizzle and shut the door behind him.

Taylor exhaled and watched him go. In just a few days, he’d have ten grand in his bank account. He should be ecstatic. He should be on the phone to Lane, or at least on his way to her apartment.

Instead he had the overwhelming urge to scrub down the passenger side of his car.