Of Greeks And Romans (Leo Valdez x Reader)

XXXIV

Percy

“WE’LL NEED SOME OF YOUR FOOD.” Percy shouldered his way around the old man and snatched stuff off the picnic table—a covered bowl of Thai noodles in mac-and-cheese sauce, and a tubular pastry that looked like a combination burrito and cinnamon roll.

Before he could lose control and smash the burrito in Phineas’s face, Percy said, “Come on, guys.” He led his friends out of the parking lot.

They stopped across the street. Percy took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The rain had slowed to a halfhearted drizzle. The cold mist felt good on his face.

“That man…” Hazel smacked the side of a bus-stop bench.

“He needs to die. Again.”

It was hard to tell in the rain, but she seemed to be blinking back tears. Her long curly hair was plastered down the sides of her face. In the gray light, her gold eyes looked more like tin.

Percy remembered how confident she’d acted when they first met—taking control of the situation with the gorgons and ushering him to safety. She’d comforted him at the shrine of Neptune and made him feel welcome at camp.

Now he wanted to return the favor, but he wasn’t sure how. She looked lost, bedraggled, and thoroughly depressed.

Percy wasn’t surprised that she had come back from the Underworld. He’d suspected that for a while—the way she avoided talking about her past, the way Nico di Angelo had been so secretive and cautious.

But that didn’t change how Percy saw her. She seemed... well, alive, like a regular kid with a good heart, who deserved to grow up and have a future. She wasn’t a ghoul like Phineas.

“We’ll get him,” Percy promised. “He’s nothing like you, Hazel. I don’t care what he says.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know the whole story. I should have been sent to Punishment. I—I’m just as bad—”

“No, you’re not!” Frank balled his fists. He looked around like he was searching for anybody who might disagree with him—enemies he could hit for Hazel’s sake. “She’s a good person!” he yelled across the street. A few harpies squawked in the trees, but no one else paid them any attention.

Hazel stared at Frank. She reached out tentatively, as if she wanted to take his hand but was afraid he might evaporate.

“Frank...” she stammered. “I—I don’t...”

Unfortunately, Frank seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts.

He slung his spear off his back and gripped it uneasily.

“I could intimidate that old man,” he offered, “maybe scare him—”

“Frank, it’s okay,” Percy said. “Let’s keep that as a backup plan, but I don’t think Phineas can be scared into cooperating. Besides, you’ve only got two more uses out of the spear, right?”

Frank scowled at the dragon’s-tooth point, which had grown back completely overnight. “Yeah. I guess.…”

Percy wasn’t sure what the old seer had meant about Frank’s family history—his great-grandfather destroying camp, his Argonaut ancestor, and the bit about a burned stick controlling Frank’s life. But it had clearly shaken Frank up. Percy decided not to ask for explanations. He didn’t want the big guy reduced to tears, especially in front of Hazel.

“I’ve got an idea.” Percy pointed up the street. “The red-feathered harpy went that way. Let’s see if we can get her to talk to us.”

Hazel looked at the food in his hands. “You’re going to use that as bait?”