Mordi shifted, trying to use the squid-like thing to climb out of the water and suck in air, but the Henchman was holding him under. This wasn’t a mere threat; the creature meant to kill him.
With a burst of energy, Mordi rolled to the side, pulling the creature with him. Not for the first time, he wished he were more like his brother. Now, though, he simply wished that he could breathe under water. His powers, shapeshifting and fire, were no match for the Henchman. Not here. Not now.
Unless...
He’d done it once before, and it had worked. Could he do it now? Did he have the strength to conjure?
Above him, he saw the second Henchman slither along the surface of the water, approaching Izzy. She’d probably strangle him for the thought, but there was no way in Hades that she was able to protect herself. Not now. Not with that knot rising on her forehead.
He was her only chance, and he wasn’t about to let some slimy, water-slicked,
smelly
squidman keep him from protecting the woman he loved.
Loved
. The word lashed through him, surprising him, but also giving him strength. Perhaps it had started as lust, but it had grown into so much more. He loved Izzy; loved everything about her. Her dedication, her sense of humor, her protectiveness of her dad. Heck, he even loved that wall of ice that she hid behind, the persona that he’d been privileged to glimpse past.
Yes, he loved her. And he would protect her. Even if, in the end, he had to protect her from himself.
The Henchman was gripping his forearms, tentacles wrapped around him and trussing him up like a pig. The creatures were slow and cumbersome on land, but in the water, they moved with terrifying agility.
Still, Mordi was
pissed
. He might not be able to shift into a sea creature, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t shift at all. With a burst of energy, he lashed out. Relief flooded him as conjured fire enveloped the writhing Henchman. He heard the creature’s squeal of surprise, and wasn’t about to hang around long enough for the creature to
realize
that the fire was fake—nothing more than a pyrotechnical illusion.
He shifted, transforming himself into a long, slick snake. Then he dropped like a stone, the Henchman’s slimy grip no match for his smooth scales.
As soon as he was free, he shifted back to human form, fighting against the wave of disorientation that always accompanied a transformation. He kicked to the surface, arriving just in time to surprise the other Henchman, who was approaching Izzy from behind.
Mordi dove down, tucking his feet in, then lashed out in an awkward donkey kick. He got the squid-creature somewhere in the gut, his feet sinking with a satisfying slurp into the doughy flesh. The creature howled and rolled away. Then Mordi broke the surface, clutching the cooler as he and Izzy again started kicking for freedom.
“They’re still coming,” Izzy said.
A booming laugh echoed over the water, and Mordi turned toward the sound, only to see a dark shape standing on the hill above, between the Porsche and the Viper. “If s over, Mordichai. Don’t worry about the girl. I promise, she’ll be well taken care of.”
Mordi strained, trying to place the voice. So familiar, and yet... not.
“Go!” Izzy yelled beside him. He turned to her in question, and she rolled her eyes. Evidently she was feeling better. “You heard him. It’s not me he’s after. If s you. Now
go
.”
“Not happening,” he said. “We both go, or we both stay.”
She didn’t waste time arguing, just started swimming toward a tree stump that poked out of the water about five yards ahead.
The dazed Henchman was still behind them, trailing them on the right. His companion—the one Mordi had surprised with the fire—had surfaced on the left. It too was tracking their progress.
The creatures were dumb, but they obviously weren’t stupid. Mordi and Izzy both had powers— amazing by some standards, nothing special by others. But the one thing neither of them had was any particular ability to live in or breathe water. Which meant that the best way for the Henchman to beat them was to keep them in the river ... and bide their time while their targets tired themselves out.
If he and Izzy wanted to win, they needed to turn the tables. They needed to do the unexpected. And they needed to do it soon.
“Can you run?” he asked, a plan so ridiculous it just might work forming in his mind.
She didn’t miss a beat in her swimming, but she did manage to send him a look that suggested she thought he was losing his mind.
“If there was a surface,” he explained. “Could you run?”
“I think so.” Her brow furrowed. “I don’t feel dizzy anymore. Yeah. But what—”
“Ice.”
For a second, her face clouded with confusion. Then her eyes lit. “Running? More like slipping and sliding,” she said. “You ever try to run on ice?”
“Even crawling will be better than trying to fight these squid in the water,” he said. “At least we’ll have some sort of advantage.” He narrowed his eyes, looking at her battered face. “Are you up to it?”
“I can’t do the whole river,” she said. “Or enough to keep them imprisoned. But yeah. I think I can do enough to get us out of here.” She slowed her swim. “For this, though, I’ll need both hands.”
Mordi nodded, holding her around the waist and kicking like a fiend to keep them both afloat and fleeing. She stiffened. He knew what she was doing; he’d done it enough times himself—drawing the power in so that she could let it right back out.
A few feet in front of them, the surface of the water rippled. But the Henchmen were drawing closer.
“Not to rush you or anything, but...”
Izzy nodded, her body stiff and warm in his arms, filled to bursting with power. “Right about...
now
.” She lashed out, and ice spewed from her fingers, creating a frozen platform in front of them. “Hurry!” she cried. “Hurry!”
They scrambled on, him lifting her at the waist to help her up, and her scrabbling forward on hands and knees as he piled on behind her. Behind them, the Henchmen approached, still in squid form; but as they rushed forward, Mordi saw the change come upon them. Suddenly they were coming out of the water in droves—fat, thin, tall, short, each some mockery of human form, and all as ugly as sin.
“Faster,” he said, taking Izzy’s hand. They were half-sliding, half-walking on the icy surface. “We need more,” he shouted, seeing the water churning in front of them.
“I know. Can you slow them down behind?”
He could. As he and Izzy raced forward, her hand outstretched to become an ice-making machine, he reached backward, all of his power concentrated on melting the ice in their wake. Behind them, the ice crackled and buckled, finally falling off into the water— and taking the following Henchmen with it. The evil creatures floundered, struggling to again change shape.
Mordi and Izzy didn’t slow down. They just kept racing along, Izzy building their bridge and Mordi destroying it behind them. When they finally reached the other side of the river, both collapsed, exhausted, onto the bank.
All Mordi wanted to do was rest, to spread out on the soft grass with this woman at his side and watch the sun dip below the horizon.
What he wanted, unfortunately, severely clashed with reality. The Henchmen reached the water’s edge, and were even now emerging from the river like bog monsters.
Mordi reached for Izzy’s hand, too tired to care that she might sense his desperate thoughts. “We need to move.”
“Can’t. Pushed too hard.” Her voice, thin and weak, barely reached his ears.
He’d pushed too hard, too, and it was so hard to conjure the strength. But he had to. He had to keep her safe. He knew without a doubt that it was him they wanted. Izzy was in the cross fire, but he’d die before he’d let any harm come to her.
Anger spurred his adrenaline, and he rolled to his side, not getting up because he didn’t want to waste the energy. His body felt like molten metal: without form, without strength, but with a billion possibilities bubbling beneath the surface.
He
was bubbling. And he only had to harness his strength.
The Henchmen were fully out of the water now, moving closer. And closer. Their heavy footsteps squished against the muddy bank, a thick
slurping
sound punctuating their increasing proximity.
Almost... almost...
Mordi held his breath, trying to wait until the last possible minute. They’d been too far away before. But now, perhaps, if he just let them come a little bit closer...
He closed his eyes, searching for strength and praying for success.
He wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t.
And then the Henchmen lunged and Izzy screamed and Mordi erupted. Fire enveloped the creatures, their squeals of pain filling the sky. The evil creatures raced round and round in blind circles, then dropped to the ground, rolling as they tried to smother the flames. Too late. Their oily bodies began to melt, and as they burned away into nothingness the flames started to recede.
Across the river, still on the bank, Mordi could see the Porsche and the Viper. Their headlights flashed once, as if in silent acknowledgment that Mordi had won this round. Then the cars backed away. Mordi understood.
This wasn’t over yet.
With that final grim thought, exhaustion overtook him, and Mordi collapsed to the ground, holding Izzy close. He forced himself to stay awake, keeping a silent vigil in the swiftly darkening night.
Isole awoke in total darkness, her heart pounding furiously and her breath coming in short, shallow bursts.
Where
...
“Izzy.”
She relaxed, Mordi’s soft voice washing over her like a caress. She didn’t know what had happened, didn’t know where they were, but she knew that she was safe. Mordi had taken care of her.
With a groan, she sat up. Her body felt boneless, and she rolled her neck, trying to will the exhaustion to leave and some semblance of energy to refill her body. Beside her, Mordi shifted, then reached out to stroke her back. She realized that she was warm and dry and sitting on a bed. She frowned. The last thing she remembered, she’d been cold, damp, and set upon by Henchmen.
“I think I need a debriefing,” she said.
He gave her a quick rundown. After he’d rested, he’d pondered what the heck to do since their car was at the bottom of the river. In the end, he’d picked her up and carried her up the embankment and to the road. Across the tiny road he found a ramshackle motel, and decided to take advantage of it. He’d checked them in, used the phone to report in at headquarters, then used the last of his strength to hang and dry out their clothes.
“Thanks for that,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
She licked her lips. “And thanks for saving us. The last thing I remember is those Henchmen melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.”
His mouth curved into a grin. “Again,” he said, “you’re welcome.”
His tone was light enough, but she caught the raising scent of something else underneath. Fear, maybe? She wasn’t certain. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
He grimaced, then lay back down, interlacing his fingers behind his head. “You
thanking
me.
That’s
what’s wrong.”
“Excuse me?” She shifted on the mattress so that she was sitting cross-legged on the threadbare spread, peering down at him. “Why shouldn’t I thank you?”
“The fact that I put your life in danger leaps to mind.”
She raised an eyebrow, then laughed. “I forgive you.” She rubbed her legs, trying to get the blood flowing again.
“Accident of birth,” he added.
His voice was low, almost monotone, and a finger of ice raced up her spine. She knew what he was implying, that Hieronymous was the one responsible. They didn’t have proof, and she wanted to argue with him, but she knew it would be futile. They’d been down that road before. Instead she simply said, “It could be someone else.”
“It could,” he said. “It isn’t.”
His voice held an infinite sadness, and she blinked back tears. How horrible to believe—to really, deep in your gut believe—that your own father could be out to kill you.
Gently, she pressed a hand to his chest. He reached up, his hand moving to grasp hers. “Mordi—”
The hand stopped. “Sorry,” he said. “I forgot.” He drew in a breath, his chest rising, then falling again. “I’ll tender my resignation tomorrow.”
“Resignation?”
“As your assistant.”
“Oh.” Once upon a time, she’d wanted him to leave her alone to do her job. Now, though, his pronouncement only made her feel lost. “Oh,” she said again.
“I’m endangering you. Hieronymous knows I oppose his re-assimilation. He wants me out of the picture.” Mordi shrugged. “So I’m removing myself. Before you get hurt when you don’t have to.”
“Mordi,” she said. “I’ve been in his head, remember? You know I don’t believe your father is behind this.”
“I know. But
I
believe it.” He smiled at her, his green eyes warm. “Guess we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “And here they say chivalry is dead....”
“Is that what they say?”
“I don’t know. I—”
“Izzy.” He took her hand.
Desire. Want. Need
. His thoughts, crystal clear, swirled within her, filling her head before she was able to put up any barriers. And underneath it all was one persistent question:
Does she want me, too?
She yanked her hand away, then looked down, unable to meet his eyes.
Yes
, she thought, wishing he could read her as she read him.
Sweet Hera, yes
.
But thoughts were easy. It was words that were hard. And when she lifted her head to look at him again, she saw doubt flicker in his eyes, and she knew that she had to come up with the words. Though it terrified her, she had to say her desire aloud.
She drew a deep breath, as if she could fill her lungs with courage. “Yes. I... I want you, too.”
Relief
. Waves of relief rolled off Mordi, enveloping and bolstering Isole. Relief and heat and desire and—
His mouth closed over hers. He’d lifted himself up and pulled her toward him, and his mouth had closed over hers with a frenzy born of need and pungent desire. Sparks shot through her body as his emotions accosted her, filled her. She’d pulled away before. Now, though...