Forbidden Quests

Chapter 38

Percy

The icy voice was followed immediately by at least three pairs of hands that grabbed me with iron grips, forcing my hands behind my back. They tied them together, and did the same to my feet. A gag came next, forfeiting the shout that I was hoping Grover would hear.

But it wasn't these things that bothered me most. It was the voice. I knew that voice...

I was thrown into another room. And literally, I was thrown. I landed on my side with a painful slam, and I groaned into the dirty rag at the pain shooting up my body.

"Shut up!" Someone yelled, then a sharp kick made contact with my already bruised side. Pain lanced up my side, and I fought the urge to slip into unconsciousness. But I couldn't. I needed to stay awake and alert.

I grit my teeth, then looked blindly around the dark room.

"Stop, Erebos. We need him conscious to answer our questions." Again, that voice that was eerily familiar. But it couldn't be.

"Whatever, but if he does something that annoys me, I'm doing it again. We can always wake him up." The voice was raspy and rough, as if the speaker's vocal chords had once been burned or something. I was assuming he was the one that kicked me. I didn't like this guy. For obvious reasons.

A light was turned on, and I blinked furiously, trying to clear my eyesight, which was still used to the darkness. When it was good enough, only with a few black spots dancing in my sight, I spotted the legs of a table and four chairs sitting on the wooden floor that I was laying on. Other than that, no furniture was in my view. But I did see three pairs of feet in front of me.

I stared at their boots for a second, then made my gaze travel up. I would describe the two men behind the man that was standing in front, closest to me, but I was so surprised, outraged, and utterly mad at the sight of the first that I didn't even look past him.

He was a tall, tan, and handsome man, with sandy blond hair. A scar started at one of his blue eyes, stretching down to his mouth. It crinkled as he sneered down at me, saying, "Hello, Percy Jackson. Long time, no see."

I hated that voice. I hated his sneer. I hated him. I wanted to yell at him, punch him, or possibly kill him, only if it was in a painful way. But my mouth was gagged, my hands were tied. I could only glare at him with every ounce of hatred in my body, cause every single bit of it was reserved for this guy.

The anger must've shown in my eyes, for the demigod before me stopped sneering, raised an eyebrow, and leaned back, saying coolly, "Woah, why the angry face, Jackson? I guess I'll be nice and let you talk. But no shouting, or else you have to sit in the corner. With a bloody nose." He smiled evilly down at me, then beckoned forward one of the men behind him.

The guy that came up to me was a broad shouldered man, with short brown hair and dark eyes. He was holding a knife, and I watched him approach warily. But he didn't hurt me, only cut my gag, allowing my mouth to make understandable noises.

I scowled at the blonde demigod, but didn't say anything. Words wouldn't be able to describe the amount rage that was coursing through my body. Oh, you might want to know his filthy name.

Luke Castellan, son of Hermes.

Luke was still looking at me with an amused complexion. He said, "Come on, Perce. Why aren't you greeting me? When friends haven't seen each other for a long time, they are usually happy when reunited."

"You're no friend of mine, Castellan." My voice was low and trembling with anger. Pain shot through my body every time I breathed. The hurt, maybe even broken, rib was not a friendly condition to me.