The Fleece Job (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Chapter 17: The Spirit Job

Jason

"This is it, this is the spot," Charon docks the skiff. We've been sailing all night. I can't believe they're gone. Surely they washed up somewhere? But no. The current sucked them under. And Charon assured me nothing can survive the waters. Then he stopped me from testing that. So they are gone. I wonder if our father will even care. No matter. I'm getting Ari. He can raise the dead.

"All right," I say, drawing my pistol from my backpack and putting the holster on my waist.

"What do you think you're going to do with that now?" Charon chuckles.

"A good sight more than I did with that stupid sword. I couldn't save my friends," I say, tossing the sword onto the floor of the skiff. I pick up Penny's backpack. She had things in it for Ari, she said.

"Oi now, that is yours."

"And I don't want it. I'm an American, the gun will do me just fine," I say, climbing onto the dusty green, cobble stone street. "Now. Where is he?"

"That building, there, I'll wait, your sibling there gave me enough coin for your way back. But meter's running."

"Right. Thanks."

The building is tall, upside down, and dimly lit, with yellow light coming from the windows. The street looks like something out of Victorian London, right down to the spirits drifting about. They seem content. Happy enough. They don't notice me. Good.

The door to the building is unlocked. I walk in. This should be simple enough. Search all the rooms for anyone answering to Ari.

It is not simple.

My watch stopped but I have an excellent sense of time. It's been well over six hours. I'm exhausted, hungry, and I have no idea how to even get out of the building. This is a nightmare. The place keeps changing, the walls—everything. I'm so confused. And my legs ache.

I slump down against the wall, swinging my backpack around. I can't let myself get worn out. I need something to eat and drink. Then I'll be better. For the first time ever (not in the mission, just ever), I'm filled with despair. I don't know how to find my way home. Suddenly I really, really want my dad. I want either dad, really. To hug me around the shoulders, and tell me it's all right. And we'll go home. And be home safe and I won't ever get sent to a boarding school again. And I can stay home as long as I like.

I doubt my phone even works down here. But no texts from either of them. Of course not. I'm sure they've given up on me by now.

I settle for getting out my music box. It's a tiny little wood one, it fits in the palm of my hand. My and Ev's shared dad, he gave it to me on my first day of boarding school.

The weekend before I was to go, both of my dad's were home. And we were happy. I liked it when they were both around. My dad, my real dad (that's how I distinguished them, my dad and my father. My father is the one I share with Ev), anyway, my real dad was always happier when my father was around. He never seemed to stop smiling. And they were both either holding hands or holding me. I was only six. I was scared to go away from home. But they were both brave so I was trying to be brave. And I think my dad was going to miss me more than he let on. He kept picking me up and squeezing me and kissing my cheek.

They let me pick a movie, a grown up movie. And I was a six year old boy. Of course I picked Jurassic Park (it was a preconceived list, I now realize, of things that wouldn't scare me too much or inspire crime. The Italian Job was not on it). I picked Jurassic Park, and we all three cuddled on the couch and watched it. And I curled right up under my father's arm, and my dad put an arm around both of us. And I lay there happily sandwiched between them. and I remember the music most. I loved the music. It was the first time I'd really paid attention to film music, and it was just so pretty. And full of hope.