𝙄𝙉𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙈𝙀𝘿; heroes of olympus

romans are cool (and kissable)

ERITH JAY
THE VENTUS MOVED like the wind―and, well, since it practically was the wind, at least it lived up to its name, right?

"Speed up!" Jason urged, gripping onto Erith's waist as the dragon lurched through the air.

"Bro," Leo said, "if I get any closer, he'll spot us. Bronze dragon ain't exactly a stealth plane."

Erith sincerely hoped she would never have to see Leo pilot a plane. He would probably kill them all in the first twenty seconds.

"Slow down!" Piper yelped. Erith was tempted to shout "do both" just to fuel her ironic humor, but before she could, the storm spirit dove into the grid of downtown streets. Festus tried to follow, but his wingspan was way too wide. His left wing clipped the edge of a building, slicing off a stone gargoyle before Leo pulled up. They lurched, Jason clutching onto Erith, Erith clutching onto Leo, slipping sideways.

Before Erith could come up with a plan of action, Jason suggested, "Get above the buildings. We'll track him down from there."

"You want to drive this thing?" Leo grumbled, but he did what Jason asked.

After a few minutes, Jason called out, "There!" Erith's eyes followed his outstretched finger. Sure enough, there was the storm spirit: zipping through the streets with no apparent purpose―blowing over pedestrians, ruffling flags, making cars swerve.

"Oh, great," Piper said. "There's two."

She was right. A second ventus blasted around the corner of the Renaissance Hotel and linked up with the first. They wove together in a chaotic dance, shooting to the top of a skyscraper, bending a radio tower, and diving back down toward the street.

"Those guys do not need any more caffeine," Leo said.

"You're one to talk," Erith muttered.

Before he could reply, Piper got them back on track. "I guess Chicago's a good place to hang out. Nobody's going to question a couple more evil winds."

"More than a couple," Jason said. "Look."

He was right. Festus circled over a wide avenue next to a lakeside park. Storm spirits were converging―at least a dozen of them, whirling around a big public art installation.

"Which one do you think is Dylan?" Leo asked. "I wanna throw something at him."

Erith let a laugh burst from her chest, her chin brushing Leo's warm shoulder.

The warmth of his shoulder and her laugh quickly faded, though, as Erith saw the woman at the art installation. Her blood went cold.

"Leo..." Jason said nervously.

"I see her," Leo said. "I don't like her, but I see her."

"It's..." Erith started, not quite squeezing the words out.

"Yeah," Leo agreed. "Dirt Woman."

Then the screens went dark. The venti swirled together into a single funnel cloud and skittered across the fountain, kicking up a waterspout almost as high as the monoliths. They got to its center, popped off a drain cover, and disappeared underground.