The Spartan of Olympus

8

"Did the plan work?" The regal-looking, black-haired and black-eyed man asked his newest minion.

"Yes, milord," the female responded, slightly cowering under his intimidating gaze.

"How long will it take?" He asked her.

"It should take effect some time tonight, maybe tomorrow. Odds are, she won't even reach you," the minion responded.

The regal man laughed. "Gods of Olympus, this is rich! I like you, kid. We have a bright future ahead of us, don't you think? And now that you and your little boyfriend are reunited, everyone is happy! Now all we have to do is deal with the sea spawn . . ."

Zoë's POV

Zoë woke up with a crick in her neck. She reached up to rub it, but winced in pain as her fingers brushed it. She frowned: why did it hurt? Zoë sat up straight and looked around, seeing that Zane was now driving and Arcus was asleep against the passenger side window. Bianca and Phoebe were in deep sleep as well, so Zoë was the only passenger awake.

Zoë cautiously raised her hand to her neck, only to grit her teeth and hiss in pain when her fingers brushed her neck. It was like she got stabbed or shot with an arrow, but surely she would be dead had a sword or arrow pierced her neck. Zoë tried to remember getting hit there, but couldn't recall any sort of occasion where she could have gotten hit in the neck.

She felt to feel a little sick to her stomach, like she was about to throw up her lunch. Zoë felt a little hot as well, but brushed it aside and gently shook Bianca awake. The small, unclaimed, black-haired girl groggily opened her eyes, her hair strewn all over the place in her restless sleep.

Bianca tried to ask Zoë what she needed but it came out like, "Wah u nhee Zee?"

"Ambrosia," Zoë croaked without acknowledging the girl's temporary, sleep-induced speech impediment.

Bianca sleepily pointed at a backpack before rolling over and closing her eyes again. Zoë dug through the bag, found a square of Ambrosia, tore it in half and ate it. She didn't want to risk eating too much in case a fight came soon, but she couldn't do anything with the strange pain in her neck. As she ate the delicious food of the gods, the stinging in her neck decreased to a dull ache, like someone had hit her with a rock, instead of stabbed with a sword.

She laid her head back against the side of the van again and closed her eyes, hoping to find dreamless sleep.

She did.

Zane's POV

Smithsonian, eh? Zane's eyes scanned the area and museums, trying to locate some sort of threat, but saw none. Zoë and Phoebe walked past him, shooting him disgusted and ireful glares. Zane's heart felt like lead. Zoë must have hated him for the Titan comments. Zane didn't even want to insult her, of course. Hell, Zane didn't even have a problem with her being the daughter of a Titan. Nor did he get "so angry" that he hit a little girl.

Zane's blood boiled at the memory of Annabeth hitting the poor girl in the face. Zane wanted to get mad at her, but . . . he loved her. She would break up with him if he questioned her motives. She was always mumbling something about plans and "cause and effect."

Zane had no idea what she was talking about, and she would scold him whenever he asked. Guilt gnawed at his insides when he recalled the daughter of Demeter's hurt and fearful expression as her cheek started to bleed. If her cheek busted open from a punch, Annabeth must have hit her hard. Zane questioned himself; why did he love this girl? All she had ever done was control him and cause him to fall hopelessly in love with her. He may not have realized it until right then, but he was just a means to an end: another pawn.