[3] 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 ― p.jackson, l.valdez

009.

「009. val is a celebrity 」

THEY BARELY made it inside. and as soon as their host threw the bolts, the cows monsters bellowed and slammed into the door, making it shudder on its hinges. if val wasn't already on edge, he'd have jumped at the constant clanging and fear. everything around him was starting to feel similar to a horror movie and that was quite frankly disgusting. they continued inside, but val was still apprehensive. no guy who's clearly not mortal is ever this kind. no god is. every god has their bad side. zeus for example couldn't keep it in his fucking pants (though val wasn't sure he had a good side). even his mom (not the mortal one. if she ever asked you- you'd say she had no bad side. then she'd give you more nice food) had a bad side. she started the trojan war for gods sake. you can't bat away the bad parts of a god just because you feel like it.

which was exactly why val was so sceptical.

"oh they can't get in," the man in denim promised as val nervously picked at his black painted nails, "you're safe now!"

nobody who was relatively friendly said that. never. big warning signs. no thank you.

"safe?" frank demanded, "hazel is dying!"

the host frowned, as if he didn't appreciate the harsh reality of franks words. as if he found them to be ruining his good mood. he sighed, "yes, yes. bring her this way."

frank carried hazel as they followed the man further into the building. nico offered to help and so did val, but frank didn't need it. he carried hazel liked she weighed nothing, and frank's body hummed with adrenalin. val could see hazel shivering, so at least they knew she was alive, but her skin was cold. her lips had taken on a greenish tinge – or was that just a trick of light? either way, frank was quivering, looking scared out of his mind.

val felt bad for him, he really did. he was holding his fatally injured girlfriend, and this guy- whoever he was... was humming along to old macdonald, not giving a flying fuck as to what was happening. just from that val could tell he was a god- a minor one, at least. only gods would think of dying as nothing to worry about- because they're immortal. they won't die, right?

he walked onwards, sending a glance to nico. he didn't look too phased, but val sent him a glance, something doesn't feel right.

the house's front room was some sort of greenhouse. the walls were lined with tables of plant trays under fluorescent lights. the air smelled of fertilizer solution. maybe venetians did their gardening inside, since they were surrounded by water instead of soil? he wasn't sure, but he didn't spend much time worrying about it. the back room looked like a combination garage, college dorm and computer lab. against the left wall glowed a bank of servers and laptops, their screensavers flashing pictures of ploughed fields and tractors. against the right wall was a single bed, a messy desk and an open wardrobe filled with extra denim clothes and a stack of farm implements, like pitchforks and rakes.

the back wall was a huge garage door. parked next to it was a red-and-gold chariot with an open carriage and a single axle, like the chariots that had once been used in chariot racing at camp when tantalus was still around.

sprouting from the sides of the driver's box were giant feathery wings. wrapped around the rim of the left wheel, a spotted python snored loudly. val hadn't even known that pythons could snore.

"set your friend here," said the man in denim.

frank placed hazel gently on the bed. he removed her sword and tried to make her comfortable, but she was as limp as a scarecrow. her complexion definitely had a greenish tint.