"The Olympians have been called many things, but forgiving is not one of them."
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[adventure, dark comedy, romance - book 1]
Loyalty. What did it mean?
As the Second Titan War raged across the United States, Half-Bloods began to pick sides...
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THE ONLY THING ALEX COULD THINK as the clanging of metal filled his ears was how much he hoped to find Daedelus in the Fields of Punishment. Just so he could punch him in the face.
As he cut down another skeleton, Alex had to dive out of the way of a Colchis Bull butting heads with Daedelus's bronze Charging Bull automaton from Bowling Green. Fighting the armies of darkness on the Manhattan bridge while having to avoid a bull fight hadn't been how Alex saw this day going, but then again, it was par for the course he supposed.
Rocks and sharp metal debris bit into his palms as he scrambled on hands and knees behind a car. He hissed in pain. His breath came in sharp gasps as he leaned against the sedan's back bumper. The whistle of arrows sounded overhead. Alex let his head rest back and looked at the night sky above.
Never any stars in New York. Today wasn't any different. Alex tried to catch his breath. He tried to concentrate on the voices around him. Connor had organized his half of Cabin Eleven near two three-car pile ups. They'd dragged as many sleeping mortals from the cars as possible before defending their barricades. Safer that way. Strength in numbers, that sort of thing.
Alex forced himself to his knees. He ignored the way shards of glass and asphalt and metal ripped into his jeans. He looked at the celestial bronze broadsword by his side. It glowed a faint gold against the road. With a grunt, Alex grabbed the hilt. Using the car as leverage, he hoisted himself up, turned to face the armies of Kronos again, and twisted the sword around.
He could see children beyond the clashing bulls. Demigods, former friends. A knot twisted in the pit of his stomach. Two more celestial bronze tipped arrows whisked past him, finding their mark in one of the younger kids at the front. They crumpled to the ground.
"Duck!"
Alex scrambled back as Daedelus's bull slammed into the sedan. Smoke and oil poured from the gashes caused by the Colchis Bull's horns. Sparks flew from the hooves. If he hadn't been a child of Hermes, Alex would've been engulfed in flames. Even with his speed, Alex felt the fire lick at his heels.
Yeah. Daedalus would have a lot to answer for when he joined him in the Underworld. That was some small comfort of not reaching Elysium. He could pummel Daedelus not just for making crazy bronze automatons all around New York City but also for the Maze, driving his friends insane, and the Battle of the Labyrinth.
Alex vaulted over one of the piled up cars, sliding across the hood to land square on his feet next to Connor Stoll. He looked at his counselor. Connor's dark hair blended into the caked up soot and blood that streaked across his pale skin. Standing beside the boy who was several inches shorter, a rush of memories hit him like a punch in the gut.
Connor and his brother Travis had always been the troublemakers of Cabin Eleven. While Alex could pick a lock and pull a prank with the best of them, he'd gotten more of his father's athleticism and swordsmanship. Being the same age in the same cabin had brought a certain amount of rivalry and teasing. But as Alex looked Connor up and down for injuries, he didn't care about the mocking and pranks between them.