Olympus Drive Book 3: According to Plan

Chapter 18

Anna

I don't know why I'm following this prick I really don't. I admit I didn't have a better plan. But to be honest a worse plan would probably be better than spending time with him.

"Tell me something else about you," I'm saying it ironically.

"When I was seven my music teacher tried to kill my brother."

"Something that doesn't involve you doing something you consider to be awesome," I sigh.

"So you've never killed a man with a flute and don't want to hear about how I did is what I'm hearing."

"Oh you hear me when I speak?" I ask, annoyed, nearly walking into him as he stops.

"I'm sorry; I've led a very interesting life."

"Until you died."

"I'm not dead. I'll prove it to you. This is our house----was our house," he points to one of the many upside down, steadily decaying houses.

"What?" I ask.

"Mine—mine and my wife's," he says, shaking his head a little.

"Okay," I say because it doesn't look like a place from the real world.

"Come on in, they can't—they don't know we're here," he says, opening the door.

I step in, cautiously. At first I think nobody is home. But then I hear a faint noise coming from the kitchen.

They're all assembled for a meal. A woman, youngish, and rather pretty, is fussing at the sink. Two little fair haired kids sit at the table obediently. Except their throats are slit, blood oozing down onto their clothes. The woman turns to tend to them. She is stabbed, dozens of wounds to her chest. She walks past us.

"Meg," he says, his face is sad now, "I'm here. I came here where you are—please—,"

She walks right past him. The kids likewise don't react.

"You are alive," I realize.

He nods.

"Then how did you get down here?"

"I don't know!"

"Who did this to them?" I ask, examining the little boy as he greedily eats. Except there's nothing there. My little boys are always hungry. Jupiter is sweet he doesn't push like his brother does, but they both get to eat their fill. That's the good thing about leaving them with Dean he lets them eat whatever. They won't be hungry. They probably won't even notice I'm gone.

"I don't know—I just remember coming home and finding them---like this," he says, his hands are shaking now. "I called the police---they never found who did it."

"Let's go outside," I say, frowning. Damn, now I do have to take him back up with me he is alive. But he's such a pain. I don't like him he's an idiot. But he is alive. He should go home.

"Yeah, let's go," Hugh says, quietly.

I barely see Thyme before I am flying into his strong arms; he doesn't stumble either as I cling to him in the middle of the damp street.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, arms around his neck, face in one of his green army t-shirts.

"Looking for you of course," he says, spinning me around, "I'm sorry it isn't that I don't trust you but I wanted to make sure you were okay---or didn't need me. If this something you want to do alone—,"

"No, I always want you," I say, pressing my face into his strong chest.

"You didn't return my calls, I got worried, that's all," he says, holding me tightly. Everyone says he's such a menace. Everyone being his family. He's not. He's the safest strongest, sweetest person in the world. I love being in these arms, even if I have to share them with half a dozen weapons.