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By Julie Kenner

Jason Murphy
Protector, Second Class
Marina del Rey, California

Greetings and Salutations:

A routine inspection of Protector Census Records reveals that you failed to file a Notice of Halfing Nascence contemporaneously with the birth of your halfling offspring. As you are aware, a Protector parents' failure to register a halfling birth is grounds for expulsion from the Council, resulting in said Protector parent being Outcast. Pursuant to Regulation 42(F)(2)(iii), you are hereby officially notified of the default. Please correct this oversight by the anniversary of the halfling's seventh birthday to avoid being Outcast and the requisite unpleasantries associated therewith.

Form 863(b)(Notice of Halfling Nascense(is enclosed for your convenience. Please note that the form must be signed by you and filed in triplicate. Alternatively, the form may be completed and submitted over the Council's secure server. In either case, the signature and/or electronic identification of the mortal parent is not required. In an effort to strengthen mortal-protector relations, however, the Council's new official position (see Circular 87A) is that Protector parents should reveal their status as such, and their offspring's status as halflings. While such disclosure is not required under the Mortal-Protector Treaty of 1970, it is encouraged. You are also encouraged to read Circular 87A and to visit the So You've Sired a Halfling page at the Council website, www.superherocentral.com, for more information on raising a healthy, happy halfling.

In furtherance of a recently implemented effort to foster bonds between halflings and their Protector parents, we are enclosing Council Publication Numbers 1758-A(3), 2987-Z(9), and 4589(D)(2)(a), respectively titled "So You're A Halfling," "The Venerate Council: A Brief History in 1200 Pages," and "Favorite Protector Tales—an Illustrated Board Book."

As you are undoubtedly aware, halfling enrollment in Council-sponsored elementary school is both permitted and encouraged. Moreover, because of the genealogical issues and considerations surrounding your offspring—i.e., the unfortunate existence of an Outcast grandfather—the Inner Circle of Elders has determined that such Council-sponsored education would be in the best interest of the child, particularly in light of your lack of direct involvement in the upbringing of your offspring. Accordingly, please deliver said offspring to the Olympus Elementary Facility, Principal's office, prior to the seventh anniversary of the birth of the child. Your failure to deliver such offspring will result in the assignment of a Protector Retrieval Team to gather the child and deliver him safely to his new school. Of course, we highly recommend that you explain the necessity for removal of the offspring to the offspring's mortal parent prior to such removal. In our experience, mortals tend to react badly to the unannounced disappearance of their offspring.

You are entitled to a hearing on the Circle of Elder's decision regarding the education of your offspring. Please submit Form 234(D)(3), Request for Hearing, along with all necessary backup documentation, in triplicate, to the Office of Dispute Resolution. You will be notified of the assigned hearing date in due course. Considering the current backlog, please allow six to eight months before contacting the Council with inquiries as to the status of your request.

Thank you for your attention to this matter, and good luck in your continuing adventure in parenting.

Sincerely,

Phelonium Prigg

Phelonium Prigg,
Recording Secretary, Inner Circle of Elders

jbk:PP
enclosure

CHAPTER ONE

He was a dead man.

No question about it. Superpowers or not, the moment Jason told Lane that their son, Davy, was a halfling, she was going to have Jason's head. And then, when he added the bit about how Davy needed to leave for boarding school halfway across the world in five days, she'd take his head, plunk it on a stake, and mount it in her front yard.

Not exactly the way he'd hoped to reunite with the mother of his child.

Scowling, he leaned up against the aquarium's glass. Against the rules, of course, but right then he wasn't in the mood to follow any rules—the Council's or Sea World's.

Throngs of kids poured through the Shark Encounter, whistling and pointing at the creatures gliding through the clear water. Jason watched them, his stomach twisting as he thought about his own little boy. He needed to go introduce himself to his son; he needed to make up for years of being away. What he didn't need was to be cooling his heels on a dud of a mission.

But Zephron himself had assigned Jason to this supposedly urgent mission at Sea World, and no one crossed the High Elder. Especially not a Second Class Protector who'd screwed up big time almost seven years ago and let himself get trapped like a rat in a cage—or, more accurately, like a fish in an aquarium. And certainly not a Protector with a father who just happened to be a maniacal Outcast bent on enslaving the mortal population.

For the most part, Jason's identity as Hieronymous's son was a secret—Jason's mother had seen to that. But even though the general membership of the council didn't know, the Inner Circle was fully aware of Jason's parentage. A little fact they hadn't hesitated to point out when Jason escaped a year ago and asked the Council for re-assignment.

He drummed his fingers on the thick glass, irritated. Maybe other young protectors got a hearty "welcome back" when they escaped an Outcast's clutches, but not Jason. Even though he'd flatly turned down Hieronymous's plea to join forces, still the Inner Circle had given him that look. The one that suggested the Elders were just waiting for him to chuck it all and go over to the dark side. He snorted; every time he thought about his father, Jason had an image of Darth Vader holding out his hand, imploring. Luke...

Really, the whole thing was ridiculous.

He wasn't his father. Sure, he'd been a little freaked out when he first learned the truth about his parentage, and, yes, the timing had been unfortunate. He'd learned that his father was Hieronymous on the same day that he'd learned that his girlfriend Lane was pregnant. He'd freaked; he could admit that now. He'd feared that his blood really was bad. He'd feared the stigma that would be placed on his child. And he'd rushed off in a fit of testosterone and misplaced fatherly duty to foil the bad guy and reclaim his family tree.

It would have worked beautifully if Hieronymous hadn't captured him. As it was, he'd not only screwed up the mission, but he'd left his son fatherless and deeply hurt the woman he'd loved.

All things considered, not the outcome he'd been hoping for.

To add insult to injury, Hieronymous had somehow discovered his identity and invited Jason to join his merry band of Outcasts. Jason hadn't even hesitated. He'd flatly refused, and he'd been willing to suffer the consequences. But did the Elders believe him? Nope. They only saw a man who'd spent six years with Hieronymous. A man who shared Hieronymous's bloodline. A man who surely wasn't strong enough to have not been corrupted by the dynamic Outcast.

They'd fidgeted and fussed in their bureaucratic way, none of them willing to come right out and say that his blood was bad. Instead, they'd called him a loose cannon. And then they'd backed up that assessment by pointing to some of Jason's earlier missions.

"Renegade," they'd said. "Failed to follow procedure." And they'd tsk-tsk'd and shook their heads while Jason had silently seethed. Those missions had all been successes. So what difference did it make if he bent a few rules?

He frowned. Apparently, it made all the difference if your father was a notorious Outcast who'd held you captive for six years.

Damn them all, and damn himself for getting caught in the first place.

With a sigh, he casually scoped out the entire room. Darkish, but open, with only a few nooks and crannies. He squinted. With any normal bad guy, he'd assume the room was clean. With Hieronymous, he couldn't be so sure.

A metal trashcan caught his eye, and he snuck over, then yanked off the lid even as he leapt backward, ignoring the curious glances from other patrons.

Well, better safe than sorry. Not only were some Outcasts capable of shrinking to a quite diminutive size, but Hieronymous's technical know-how meant that he could easily have placed a bomb—or any other remote-controlled gizmo—in the can.

He rummaged through the trash, nodding politely at the tall brunette who grabbed her son firmly by the shoulders and steered him out of the way.

Nothing. Well, nothing except some empty cups, a few plastic bags, and the leftover remains of a Pink Thing.

Hardly a productive exercise, and to top it off, now his hands were sticky. Great.

He moved back to the aquarium and banged his head against the glass. This was so not going well.

Bad day? Inside the tank, his buddy Lester glided forward toward the perimeter. Jason had spent a lot of time at Sea World and knew the shark well.

You could say that, Jason said, speaking in a low-frequency mumble inaudible to human ears. Of course, his mouth moved a bit, but most mortals never noticed. Or, if they did, they just assumed he was talking to himself and cut a wide berth.

He gave the shark a quick rundown of the Council's edict about Davy. Plus, I've spent the last eight hours primed to foil my father's supposedly nefarious plot to wreak havoc here. So far, though, no plot, no evil deeds, no nothing. Just one big waste of my time.

Major bummer, the shark said. Having lived the last ten years in a tank in San Diego, Lester had developed the speech patterns of a surfer dude. He eased in closer, his snaggle of teeth practically gleaming as his snout tapped lightly against the glass. The kids—and a couple of adults—shrieked and stumbled backward. Oh, man, the shark said. I hate it when they do that.

Despite his crappy mood, Jason stifled a laugh. They're never going to believe you're friendly, he said. It's the teeth.

Lester's eyes immediately turned sad, and Jason felt bad for reminding his friend of the inescapable truth—no one was going to believe that the sleek, toothy, black-eyed shark just wanted someone to play with.

Have you seen anything? Jason asked, trying to get his mind off his kid and back on to his mission.

Lester rocked from side to side. Nothing.

Jason nodded. He'd expected that answer. In fact, he was beginning to think it was a false lead. So far, the only nefarious deed he'd noticed was a tough-looking nine-year-old giving a wedgie to a pasty-faced little boy. Jason had put a stop to that right away, levitating the bully's shoes so he tripped over his own feet, then splayed face down in a tide pool. It might not be saving the world, but it was something.

You really think he's going to strike here?

Jason shrugged. That's what the Council says. Council intelligence had warned that Hieronymous intended to attack the Southern California park. Apparently, Hieronymous was after some sort of talisman, and he believed it could be found at Sea World.

Zephron swore that Jason's assignment to the case was purely the luck of the draw, but Jason wasn't so sure. It might be coincidence, but Jason had a sneaking suspicion that the Inner Circle was testing him.

Hieronymous, Lester said, the teeth and powerful jaws making him look like something out of a horror movie. He turned away, nestling down to hide behind a nearby rock. Scary.

Sissy, Jason said, his voice laced with amusement.

Not at all, Lester said. I'm a pragmatist. Why do you think I'm here? I get all my meals prepared, humans in wetsuits to play with, and no one running and screaming if I swim up near a beach to try to make a friend. His tail twitched. Of course, if Hieronymous really does show up, I'd probably be better off in the ocean.

Jason nodded. The shark had a point. I'm going to keep making rounds, he said, turning to leave. Keep your eyes open.

Back in the park, Jason made a quick pass by the manatee habitat, wishing he could ask the creatures if they'd seen anything suspicious. Manatees had excellent reputations as responsible observers, but Jason's powers were limited to communicating with fish and cetaceans. Manatees were just too far removed.

The dolphins, however, were eager to help. He'd expected their cooperation, of course, since much of his spare time was spent at Sea World hanging out with the sleek mammals. Unfortunately, though, their habitat was open, and the crowd of kids tossing the dolphins dinner tended to distract them from Jason's purpose. When he finally did manage to communicate his question, all he learned was that the dolphins had seen nothing, but had thoroughly enjoyed their somewhat slimy snack.

Not exactly useful information.

Jason checked his watch. Almost two. In a few minutes, Shamu's show would begin, but until then, Jason could get a decent view of the park from the roof of the staff building near the Orca's pool.

At over thirty-five years old, Corky was the oldest Orca in the park. He'd readily adopted the Shamu stage name, saying he loved that it meant he was out there entertaining the children he so adored. If Jason was lucky, the observant cetacean might have seen or heard something out of the ordinary. Shamu was as clever as they came; if there was trouble brewing at Sea World, Shamu would likely be in the know.

When he arrived at the whale's theater, kids were already grabbing seats in the stands, eager to watch their favorite whale do his tricks. It wouldn't do for them to see Jason, so he reached into his Council-issued utility pack-craftily designed to look like nothing more than an ordinary day pack—and pulled out his Propulsion and Invisibility cloak. The cloak was a new model, not yet standard issue for Protectors, but one of the advantages of being stuck on Olympus for months on end was that he got access to some of the upgraded gizmos and gadgets the Council scientists were working on.

As soon as the cloak closed around him, rendering him invisible, he pressed off with his heels, letting the cloak's propulsion properties lift him to the roof. Once there, he crouched on the edge, his muscles taut and ready, as he pulled out a pair of binocularss and surveyed the park.

Still no sign of Hieronymous or any of his band of mischief-making Outcasts.

Absently, he tapped his holo-pager. He knew he shouldn't summon the High Elder, but this was turning out to be a waste of time. In theory, he could handle the frustration. After all, a large part of the superhero gig involved watching and waiting. But today, the waiting was grating on his nerves. His personal life was in a shambles, and the last thing he needed was stress on the job. Save the world? Sure. Waste precious hours on a false lead? No thank you.

Frustrated, he plucked the pager off his belt, then started idly fiddling with the dial. He didn't transmit—not yet. He couldn't quite work up the nerve. He'd dedicated his life to being the good guy—watching over mortals, rescuing them from danger. And, if possible, preventing the danger from striking in the first place.

He hadn't abandoned that philosophy, not at all. If anything, his long interment and subsequent escape had solidified just how worthwhile his efforts to foil the Outcasts were. Hieronymous was a boil on the butt of humanity, dangerous to both Protectors and mortals, and Jason intended to stop him. Not only was that one of a Protector's sworn duties, but for Jason, it was personal. Even more personal now than it had been seven years ago.

He may have screwed up back then, but this time he wouldn't fail. He'd best his father and, in doing so, he'd prove himself to the Inner Circle. And, finally, he'd get his promotion to Protector First Class.

Even more than that, though, he'd get revenge for the family Hieronymous had stolen from him. He'd become a father to his son.

Six years. Hieronymous had stolen six years, and Jason could never, ever, get them back. But even though he couldn't have restitution, he damn well intended to extract payment. When Jason was through, Hieronymous would regret imprisoning him. Hell, when Jason was through, Hieronymous would regret Jason had ever been born.

He took a deep breath, tamping down on the familiar anger that had lurked so long right under the surface, a strong current pulling him to action. He was free now. He'd done his stint of debriefing on Olympus, and now he was ready to meet his family.

Of course, when he finally got permission to leave Olympus one month ago, Jason had realized he didn't know the first thing about being a dad. Better to be prepared than foiled. He'd learned that well enough six years ago. And so he'd postponed his arrival on Lane's doorstep, and had instead gone out and purchased every book on the subject—from What to Expect the First Year (Davy was a little past that, true, but Jason thought he needed the background information) to the latest Terry Brazelton. Plus, he'd memorized Goodnight Moon, knew all the words to every song the Wiggles had ever belted out, and felt like he was close, personal friends with Bob the Builder.

He hadn't watched an adult-oriented television show or read an adult-oriented book in four weeks. But, by Zeus, he was ready to have a conversation with his son. Loving, yet firm. Nurturing, yet with boundaries. Oh yeah. He had this parenting thing down.

Then the Council's letter arrived and shot his plan all to hell. Forget smooth introductions. Forget lazy picnics in the park. Forget three times around the block with training wheels. Now he had to just swoop in, drop the bomb, and haul Davy off to school.

But first, he had to stake out Sea World. Duty over family, and all that jazz.

With a sigh, he clipped the pager back onto his utility belt. He'd do his job, wait it out, and when the park closed, he'd report in that the day had been a bust. After that, he'd head over to Lane's house and deliver his news—then he'd really see some action.

Once more, he raised the binoculars to his eyes and glanced around the park. Far below, a surfer-looking guy in a wetsuit was climbing into Shamu's retaining pool, getting the whale ready for his upcoming show. Across the way, a dozen or so kids were playing in the tide pools. A shrill scream ripped the air behind him, and Jason started to leap, then realized it was just the kids on the roller coaster.

All in all, a typical day at the park.

The gate opened below him, and Shamu eased into the pool, making quick work of the perimeter, then leaping out of the water, dousing the kids with a huge splash as he landed.

Show off, Jason said.

The whale rolled onto his side, one flipper in the air as he waved to the giggling, clapping crowd. Just giving the people what they want, the whale said, non-plussed by the voice coming out of nowhere. Good to see you again, Jason. Too bad about the circumstances.

Yup. What's the word around the pool?

Just that you're hot on the trail of Hieronymous, the whale said, as he leaped from the water.

Jason knew the whale's routine by heart. One of the downsides of his particular superpower was that he had to spend every full moon as a dolphin. As a child, his mother had started taking him to the park. And even during his debriefing, that tradition continued. Apparently the Council assumed Jason couldn't get in much trouble at a Sea World slumber party.

Shamu circled the pool twice, then launched himself out and onto the shallow concrete "beach" for his prize of raw fish and a pat on the head by a cute brunette in braids. It's not Broadway, he said. But it's a living.

The kids screamed and applauded, clearly having a great time. Shamu's sarcasm didn't fool Jason. He knew the huge creature loved entertaining the kids.

Let me know if you notice anything out of the ordinary.

The whale splashed his tail in assent, then dove back into the water, ready to start the next round of tricks. Jason took off from the platform, leaving Shamu's theater and zipping over the crowd to perch on the top of the Sky Tower to continue his surveillance of the park.

A shock of coppery-red hair caught his attention, and he leaned forward, adjusting the binoculars to zoom in tight. There was something familiar about the woman standing there. Something—

Zo&246; Smith.

He blinked, yanking the binoculars away as he sat back, frowning. Zo&246; Smith—now Zo&246; Taylor—was the most famous recent addition to the Council, not only because she'd foiled Hieronymous, but because she was happily married to a mortal. Jason had seen her quite a bit recently, too. Zo&246;'s mortal husband was Lane's brother, and on several of the occasions when Jason had snuck a peek at Lane and Davy, Zo&246; and Taylor had been there as well.

But what was she doing at Sea World? Had Zephron sent her in as back-up? Or worse, had Zephron sent her in because he didn't think Jason could get the job done?

Until now, Jason had thought that Zephron was in his corner. But maybe he'd misjudged the High Elder. Maybe Zephron, like the other Elders in the Inner Circle, expected Jason to leap into the abyss and follow daddy to the dark side.

The possibility irritated Jason, and he lifted the binocs again, intent on figuring out what Zo&246; was up to.

He focused straight in on her face, expecting to see her scanning the park, looking for danger signs. Instead, she was licking a fudgesicle, a play of emotion crossing her face, as if she wasn't quite sure if chocolate was a good thing or a bad thing.

With one hand rubbing his temples, he watched a bit longer, sure there was some other purpose to her being at the park. But no, after watching her consult the park map, toss out the half-eaten confection, and call to someone beyond his field of vision, Jason was certain he knew the score: Zo&246; Smith was there as a civilian.

Odd, yes, but possibly helpful. If Hieronymous did strike, Jason could use all the help he could get. In fact, he ought to head down and tell Zo&246; the situation.

He was just about to do that when a familiar figure stepped into view. Tow-headed and energetic, the boy turned, looking up into the sky as if he could feel Jason watching him.

Davy. His son.

And before Jason could even register surprise, Hieronymous struck—and all hell broke loose.

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