The Lost Hero (Jason Grace x OC)

7

It seemed I only slept for seconds, but when Jason gently shook me awake, the daylight was fading.
"We're here," he said.
I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes.
Below us, a city sat on a cliff overlooking a river. The plains around it were dusted with snow, but the city itself glowed warmly in the winter sunset. Buildings crowded together inside high walls like a medieval town, way older than any place I had seen before.
In the center was an actual castle— at least, I assumed it was a castle—with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked, green gabled roof.
"Tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo said.
"Yeah, Quebec City," Piper confirmed. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so."
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Your dad do a movie about that too?"
She made a face at him. "I read sometimes, okay? Just because Aphrodite claimed me, doesn't mean I have to be an airhead."
"Feisty!" Leo said. "So you know so much, what's that castle?"
"A hotel, I think."
Leo laughed. "No way."
But as we got closer, I saw she was right. The grand entrance was bustling with doormen, valets, and porters taking bags. Sleek black luxury cars idled in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurried to get out of the cold.
"The North Wind is staying in a hotel?" Leo said. "That can't be—"
"Heads up, guys," Jason interrupted.
"We got company."
I looked below and saw what Jason meant. Rising from the top of the tower were two winged figures angry angels, with nasty looking swords.
Festus didn't like the angel guys. He swooped to a halt in midair, wings beating and talons bared, and made a rumbling sound in his throat.
"Steady, boy" Leo said.
"I don't like this," Jason said. "They look like storm spirits."
At first I thought he was right, but as the angels got closer, I could see they were much more solid than venti. They looked like regular teenagers except for their icy white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords were jagged, like icicles. Their faces looked similar enough that they might've been brothers, but they definitely weren't twins. One was the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy clearly had been in too many fights, because both his eyes were black, and when he bared his teeth, several of them were missing.
The other guy looked like he'd just stepped off an 1980s rock album cover. His ice-white hair was long and feathered into a mullet. He wore pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that were way too tight, and a god awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open. Maybe he thought he looked like a groovy love god, but the guy couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and he had a bad case of acne.
The angels pulled up in front of the dragon and hovered there, swords at the ready.
The hockey ox grunted. "No clearance."
"Scuse me?" Leo said.
"You have no flight plan on file," explained the groovy love god. On top of his other problems, he had a French accent so bad I was sure it was fake. "This is restricted airspace."
"Destroy them?" The ox showed off his gap-toothed grin.
Festus began to hiss steam, ready to defend us.
Jason summoned his golden sword, but Leo cried, "Hold on! Let's have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"
"I am Cal!" the ox grunted. He looked very proud of him-self, like he'd taken a long time to memorize that sentence.
"That's short for Calais," the love god said. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables—"
"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!" Cal offered.
"—which includes his own name," the love god finished.
"I am Cal," Cal repeated. "And this is Zethes! My brother!"
"Wow," Leo said. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go."
Cal grunted, obviously pleased with himself.
"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbled. "They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the ladies there," He winked at us, but the wink was more like a facial seizure. "Can call me anything they like.
Perhaps they would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you?"
Piper gagged, and I almost did the same. "That's . . . a truly horrifying offer."
"It is no problem." Zethes wiggled his eyebrows.
"We are a very romantic people, we Boreads."
"Boreads?" Jason cut in. "Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?"
"Ah, so you've heard of us!" Zethes looked pleased. "We are our father's gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples."
He pointed below, and I saw that the mortals were starting to take notice. Several were pointing up not with alarm, yet more with confusion and annoyance, like the dragon was a traffic helicopter flying too low.
"Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing," Zethes said, brushing his hair out of his acne covered face, "we will have to destroy you painfully."
"Destroy!" Cal agreed, with a little more enthusiasm than I thought necessary.
I noticed Jason tighten his grip around my waist ever so slightly, and I prayed he couldn't see how red my face was.
"Wait!" Piper said. "This is an emergency landing."
"Awww!" Cal looked so disappointed, I almost felt sorry for him.
Zethes studied Piper. "How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?"
"We have to see Boreas. It's totally urgent! Please?" She forced a smile, which I figured must've been killing her; but she still had that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looked great. Something about her voice, too—I found myself believing every word. Jason was nodding, looking absolutely convinced.
Zethes picked at his silk shirt, probably making sure it was still open wide enough. "Well . . . I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you—"
"And our dragon is malfunctioning!" Piper added. "It could crash any minute!"
Festus shuddered helpfully, then turned his head and spilled gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below.
"No destroy?" Cal whimpered.
Zethes pondered the problem. Then he gave Piper another spasmodic wink. "Well, you are pretty. I mean, you are right. A malfunctioning dragon—this could be an emergency."
"Destroy them later?" Cal offered, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.
"It will take some explaining," Zethes decided. "Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Follow us."
The Boreads sheathed their swords and pulled smaller weapons from their belts—or at least I thought they were weapons. Then the Boreads switched them on, and I realized they were flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turned and swooped toward the hotel's tower.
Leo turned to us. "I love these guys. Follow them?"
"I guess," Jason decided. "We're here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn't been kind to visitors."
"Pfft, he just hasn't met us." Leo whistled. "Festus, after those flashlights!"
As they got closer, I worried we'd crash into the tower. The Boreads made right for the green gabled peak and didn't slow down. Then a section of the slanted roof slid open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom were lined with icicles like jagged teeth.
"This cannot be good," Jason muttered, but Leo spurred the dragon downward, and they swooped in after the Boreads.
We landed in what must have been the penthouse suite; but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall had vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows, and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back of the room led up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branched off to the left and right. But the ice made the room's beauty a little frightening. When we slid off the dragon, the carpet crunched under our feet. A fine layer of frost covered the furniture. The curtains didn't budge because they were frozen solid, and the ice coated windows let in weird watery light from the sunset. Even the ceiling was furry with icicles. As for the stairs, I was sure I'd slip if I tried to climb them.
"Guys," Leo said, "fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in."
"Not me." Jason looked uneasily at the staircase. "Something feels wrong. Something up there . . ."
Festus shuddered and snorted flames. Frost started to form on his scales.
"No, no, no." Zethes marched over, though how he could walk in those pointy leather shoes, I had no idea. "The dragon must be deactivated. We can't have fire in here. The heat ruins my hair."
Festus growled and spun his drill bit teeth.
"S'okay, boy." Leo turned to Zethes. "The dragon's a little touchy about the whole deactivation concept. But I've got a better solution."
"Destroy?" Cal suggested.
"No, man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait."
"Leo," I said nervously, "what are you—"
"Watch and learn, water girl. When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all kinds of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But others . . . Ah, here we go." Leo hooked his fingers behind the dragon's left foreleg. He pulled a switch, and the dragon shuddered from head to toe. Everyone backed away as Festus folded like origami. His bronze plating stacked together. His neck and tail contracted into his body. His wings collapsed and his trunk compacted until he was a rectangular metal wedge the size of a suitcase.
Leo tried to lift it, but the thing obviously weighed a ton. "Um . . . yeah. Hold on. I think—aha." He pushed another button. A handle flipped up on the top, and wheels clicked out on the bottom. "Ta-da!" he announced. "The world's heaviest carry-on bag!"
"That's impossible," Jason said. "Something that big couldn't—"
"Stop!" Zethes ordered. He and Cal both drew their swords and glared at Leo.
Leo raised his hands. "Okay . . . what'd I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don't have to take the dragon as carry on—"
"Who are you?" Zethes shoved the point of his sword against Leo's chest. "A child of the South Wind, spying on us?"
"What? No!" Leo said. "Son of Hephaestus. Friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!"
Cal growled and put his face up to Leo's. "Smell fire," he said. "Fire is bad."
"Oh." Leo said. "Yeah, well . . . my clothes are kind of singed, and I've been working with oil, and—"
"No!" Zethes pushed Leo back at sword point. "We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I still smell fire . . . on you."
"Hey . . . look . . . I don't know—" He glanced at us desperately. "Guys, a little help?"
Jason already had his gold coin in his hand. He stepped forward, his eyes on Zethes. "Look, there's been a mistake. Leo isn't a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you're not a fire guy."
"Um . . . " Leo said.
I gave him a look. It was obviously he was hiding something.
"Zethes?" Piper tried her dazzling smile again, though she looked a little too nervous and cold to pull it off. "We're all friends here. Put down your swords and let's talk."
"The girl is pretty," Zethes admitted, "and of course she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness, but sadly, I cannot romance her at this time." He poked his sword point farther into Leo's chest, and frost started spreading across Leo's shirt.
"Destroy him now?" Cal asked his brother.
Zethes nodded. "Sadly, I think—"
"No," Jason insisted. He sounded calm enough, but I figured he was about two seconds away from flipping that coin. "Leo's just a son of Hephaestus. He's no threat. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. Kendal is a daughter of Poseidon. I'm the son of Zeus. We're on a peaceful . . ." Jason's voice faltered, because both Boreads had suddenly turned on him.
"What did you say?" Zethes demanded. "You are the son of Zeus?"
"Um.. yeah," Jason said. "That's a good thing, right? My name is Jason."
Cal looked so surprised, he almost dropped his sword. "Can't be Jason," he said. "Doesn't look the same."
Zethes stepped forward and squinted at Jason's face. "No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me—but stylish. Besides, our Jason died millennia ago."
"Wait," Jason said. "Your Jason . . . you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?"
"Of course," Zethes said. "We were his crewmates aboard his ship, the Argo, in the old times, when we were mortal demigods. Then we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look this good for all time, and my silly brother could enjoy pizza and hockey."
"Hockey!" Cal agreed.
"But Jason—our Jason—he died a mortal death," Zethes said. "You can't be him."
"I'm not." Jason agreed.
"So, destroy?" Cal asked. Clearly the conversation was giving him a serious workout.
"No," Zethes said regretfully. "If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we've been watching for."
"Watching for?" Leo asked. "You mean like in a good way, you'll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for like in a bad way, he's in trouble?"
A girl's voice said, "That depends on my father's will."
At the top of the staircase, stood a girl in a white silk dress. Her skin was unnaturally pale, the color of snow, but her hair was a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. She focused on us with no expression, no smile, no friendliness.
"Father will want to see the one called Jason," the girl said.
"Then it is him?" Zethes asked excitedly.
"We'll see," the girl said. "Zethes, bring our guests."
Leo grabbed the handle of his bronze dragon suitcase. Before he could take a step, he was stopped.
"Not you, Leo Valdez," she said.
"Why not?" He sounded like a whiny kindergartner.
"You cannot be in the presence of my father," the girl said. "Fire and ice—it would not be wise."
"We're going together," Jason insisted, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder, "or not at all."
The girl tilted her head, like she wasn't used to people refusing her orders. "He will not be harmed, Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez here. Guard him, but do not kill him."
Cal pouted. "Just a little?"
"No," the girl insisted. "And take care of his interesting suitcase, until Father passes judgment."
The three of us looked at Leo.
"It's fine, guys," he said. "No sense causing trouble if we don't have to. You go ahead."
"Listen to your friend," the pale girl said. "Leo Valdez will be perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for you, son of Zeus. Now come, King Boreas is waiting."