Maelstrom

Three

[dulce bellum inexpertis]

Three cups of coffee would have normally been a bad idea for a demigod like Mark, but right now, it was the only thing keeping him awake. He took a sip from his mug, almond eyes glued to the disaster zone of papers covering the table he was seated at. He'd been in the café since it opened, and frankly, would probably be there when it closed.

The field reports and research Mark had been tasked with combing through weren't anything special, especially given the grave nature of things. Anytime a quest group left on a mission, it was almost a given that they might not return. Monsters and spirits were growing stronger with the awakening of their father, and if the demigods didn't stop them all in time...

Well. Bad things would happen.

Mark blew out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. This was more reading than he liked, but it had to be done.

"Come to any groundbreaking revelations?"

Mark glanced up to see Dale standing at the end of his table, eyebrow quirked and coffee pot in hand. The daughter of Demeter topped off Mark's mug, before sliding into the booth seat across from him.

"Well, have you?" Dale pressed, golden eyes catching the daylight streaming in through the window.

"Why do I get the feeling that you want me to be done so I can leave?" Mark narrowed his eyes at his best friend, raising his now-full mug to his lips.

Dale made a nonchalant face, readjusting the napkin dispenser atop the wooden table. "You wouldn't be entirely wrong."

Mark feigned offense, putting his free hand to his heart. "I'm wounded. Truly."

Dale rolled her eyes, a laugh on her lips. "But really, what's the deal?"

Mark sighed, motioning to the papers spread out before him. He pushed a few towards Dale. "See for yourself."

The daughter of Demeter plucked a report from the pile, scanning it before frowning. "More mission reports? How many demigods are actually on quests right now?"

Mark glanced up as someone passed their table, noticing how Dale's voice got softer as they passed. When the person was gone, Mark returned his attention to Dale, watching him with precise intent.

Mark cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "More than I'm comfortable with. It feels like there's a new shroud to burn every week."

A shadow crossed over Dale's luminous eyes, and she scrunched her lips together, thinking. She was silent for a moment, rereading the paper before her as if searching for the right words. Only Mark knew firsthand that there wasn't much to say when the people you were supposed to train and protect ended up dying.

The sound of the café's doorbell jingling snagged Mark's attention, and he twisted in his seat to face Kaden, Tessa, and Reese filing in. All three of them were dressed for business, which in a way made sense, given the fact that two out of the three had jobs to go to after this. The rest of their group spotted Mark and Dale and shuffled over.

"Oh, you all actually showed up," Dale chimed by way of greeting, sliding out of the booth. "The usual?"

"You know it, Daley Dear," Tessa patted her best friend on the shoulder as she filed into the booth.