ATLANTIS | j. grace

nine

Elle wasn't sure she'd get along as well with Piper as she did with Leo.

"Soooo, what's the castle?" Leo asked, clearly trying to break the tension.

Once again, Piper answered. "A hotel, I think."

"No way," Leo laughed. "Look at it!"

But once they got closer, Piper proved to be right. The entrance was bustling with doormen, valets, and bellmen. Expensive cars sat in the drive, luggage being unpacked by men in fancy suits and women in elegant outfits, all in thick winter coats.

Lucky motherfuckers, Elle grumbled internally as she shivered again, goosebumps rising on her arms.

"Heads up guys," Jason suddenly spoke up. "We've got company."

Looking below, Elle saw what Jason meant. Two winged figures rose from the top of the tower. Elle's first thought was angels, but then she saw their sharp, pointy swords.

Festus abruptly swooped to a halt. Elle let out a surprised yelp as their bodies jerked. The dragon bared his talons at the figures, a rumbling sound coming from his throat that led Elle to believe he was about to blow fire.

"Steady, boy," Leo muttered calmly.

"I don't like this," Jason voiced. For further explanation, he added, "Look at them."

"You got something against Canadians, Superman?"

He huffed. "What I mean, Penelope, is that they look like storm spirits."

Elle paused for a moment in consideration. Squinting against the sun's glare, Elle could see they were far more solid than the anemoi thuellai.

"I don't think they are," she said. "They look... human."

They appeared young, like teenagers, but that meant nothing in the world of immortal gods. Their hair was pure white and their feathered wings were purple, like grapes. Their bronze swords looked like icicles, with their jagged edges and sharp points.

One had a large build, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. He wore baggy sweatpants, black cleats, and a bright red hockey jersey. The other guy looked like a wannabe '80s rock singer. His white hair had been curled and styled into a long mullet. His shoes were pointy-toed and made of leather, and he wore too-tight designer jeans and a silk shirt with half the buttons open.

The pair flew in front of the dragon, swords drawn and pointing directly at the group.

"No clearance," spoke the wannabe.

Leo blinked. "'Scuse me?"

"You have no flight plan on file," the same non-angel explained. "This is restricted airspace."

Elle couldn't help the snicker that escaped her. His French accent was so terrible that she knew it was fake. She even opened her mouth to call him out on it when the other non-angel spoke.

"Destroy them?" he grunted hopefully.

"Because you two could destroy us," Elle said, refraining a laugh. "You look like y—"

Jason nudged her sharply. "Shut up!" he hissed.

She pulled a childish face. "You shut up."

"Let's all just pause, okay?" Piper cut in, charmspeak cascading over them and bringing them all to a reluctant silence. "Now who are you?"

"I am Cal!" the guy with the large build announced. Pride filled his voice as he puffed up his chest.

"That's short for Calais," the other explained. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables—"