Állaxe //HOO x m.oc\\ (ON HOLD)

30

Jace Anderson's patience was wearing thin.

Piper got the helicopter with ease, but her dad was giving them an additional challenge Jace didn't have the energy to deal with. Forgive him for being tired but he had just lost his gun in the rubble (let's not tell the others how he pushed the gun into Encaladus' eye and it was no lost inside the mountain) of the fight— and he also hang onto a dreadlock that was very slippery with some kind if grease.

Piper needed only a few words through Leo's improvised bullhorn to convince the pilot to land on the mountain. The Park Service copter was big enough for medical evacuations or search and rescue, and when Piper told the very nice ranger pilot lady that it would be a great idea to fly them to the Oakland Airport, she readily agreed.

"No," her dad muttered, as Jace and Jason picked him up off the ground. "Piper, what—there were monsters—there were monsters—" She needed both Jace's and Jason's help to hold him, while Coach Hedge gathered their supplies. Fortunately Hedge had put his pants and shoes back on, so no one had to explain the goat legs.

"It'll be okay, Dad," Piper said, making her voice as soothing as possible. "These people are my friends. We're going to help you. You're safe now."

Friends? Were they friends? Would he consider them friends? He had known them...for some amount of days and even if he didn't know them personally he had been through a lot with them.

Maybe they were friends— acquaintances at the least.

"Blades. They had a machine with so many blades. They had six arms ..." When they got him to the bay doors, the pilot came over to help.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked.

"Smoke inhalation," Jason suggested. "Or heat exhaustion."

"We should get him to a hospital," the pilot said.

"It's okay," Piper said. "The airport is good."

"Yeah, the airport is good," the pilot agreed immediately. Then she frowned, as if uncertain why she'd changed her mind. "Isn't he Tristan McLean, the movie star?"

"No," Piper said. "He only looks like him. Forget it."

"Yeah," the pilot said. "Only looks like him. I—" She blinked, confused. "I forgot what I was saying. Let's get going."

It was a creepy trick— but still cool as hell. He had been affected by her words and it did feel nice even though you couldn't really think of anything other than her. Finally they got him on board, and the helicopter took off. The pilot kept getting questions over her radio, asking her where she was going, but she ignored them.

They veered away from the burning mountain and headed toward the Berkeley Hills. Jace wanted to give her privacy, but the helicopter didn't have much space. Leo fiddled with a lug nut from his tool belt. Jason gazed at the valley below—the roads backing up as mortals stopped their cars and gawked at the burning mountain. Hedge chewed on the stub of his carnation, and for once the satyr didn't look in the mood to yell or boast. And Jace looked through his pockets for something— anything he could focus on.

Tristan McLean wasn't supposed to be seen like this. He was a star. He was confident, stylish, suave—always in control. That was the public image he projected. Now it was broken, gone. As they passed over the hills into the East Bay, Jason tensed. He leaned so far out the doorway Jace was worried he'd fall. He pointed.

"What is that?" Jace moved closer to the boy to look over his head and out of the doorway. He looked down, but didn't see anything interesting —just hills, woods, houses, little roads snaking through the canyons. A highway cut through a tunnel in the hills, connecting the East Bay with the inland towns.