Aphrodite's Flame Read Online Free PDF

right, a pinpoint of light broke the darkness that filled the tunnel, growing larger as the train approached, until the headlight bore down on the track, illuminating the way into and out of the station.
    The train drew closer, not slowing at all, but instead of staying behind the yellow line demarking the safe area of the platform, Romulus moved over it. By the time Mordi realized what his quarry intended to do, it was already too late. Romulus jumped, leaping with perfectly timed precision to land right in front of the train.
    The speeding express never stopped, didn’t even slow down, and Mordi’s howls of frustration harmonized with the squeal and clatter of the train along the tracks.
    He trotted forward, nose sniffing the air as he tried in vain to pick up the scent of the vanished Protector.
    Nothing
. Damn it all to Hades, his quarry was truly gone.
    Frustrated at himself for letting Romulus get away, Mordi paced back and forth on the platform, his four doggie legs moving in an instinctual rhythm. That’s what was driving him—instinct. And his hunter’s intuition was telling him that the game wasn’t over yet.
    Plunking his rump down again, he lifted his nose into the air, trying to make some sense of the odd mishmash of scents that were accosting his olfactory nerves.
    Rotting food. Dead vermin. Stale perfume. Grease. The sharp scent left by metal scraping metal. Cinnamon.
    Cinnamon?
    Mordi got up on all fours again, searching for the source of the smell even as his mind rewound to the memory he was seeking—Romulus stepping onto the platform, tucking a strip of gum into his mouth and sauntering over to the pillar.
    Smells conjured memories and, in this case, Mordi was certain. The gum had been cinnamon-flavored. And the scent that he now caught belonged to Romulus.
    But where was he?
    The one thing that Mordi’s initial research had failed to turn up was Romulus’s personnel file, and now the absence of that information frustrated him. If he only knew what the Protector’s special powers were, he might have a better idea where the man was hiding.
    Because he
was
hiding. By now, Mordi was certain. Not only had his trusty nose put in a vote, but the distinct absence of any guts and goo on the rails below more than suggested that Romulus had not leapt to his death.
    Think, Mordi, think.
    He paced, tail wagging in thought, ears plastered back in frustration, haunches moving with a sure and steady motion.
    And then he realized. The answer was so simple, it had to be right.
    If Romulus hadn’t left, then he must still be there. Mordi simply couldn’t see him. But with a little bit of persuasion, Mordi was certain he could convince the rogue Protector to show himself.
    Three mortals had wandered onto the platform, waiting for the next train that, according to the display, was due to roll into the station in four minutes.
    Well, there was nothing Mordi could do about them. Hopefully the MLO would be able to concoct some sort of spin, planting a story in the papers designed to make Mordi’s less-than-normal activities seem perfectly explainable.
    He couldn’t execute his plan in dog form, and so he loped back to the pillar, circling it once more and this time emerging in his usual form. His clothing always transformed with him—the cloth changing into fur, or another outfit, or whatever was appropriate—and now he emerged in one of the tailored suits he favored.
    Not that he was going for fashion here. He raced toward the platform and leaped over the edge, letting flames engulf his entire body, gathering them as he soared through the air to land beside the train tracks.
    Behind him, mortals screamed, but Mordi ignored them. He sent a wave of fire dancing along the tracks, flames tickling every surface—both seen and unseen.
    His ploy worked.
    As waves of flame rolled over the beams of the train tracks, another shape emerged from between them, a lumpy shape, defined only by the fire that clung to it.
    The