Where Heroes Unite (Rewrite)

Chapter 4: Please Do Not Strike a Chord

Chiron nearly climbed out of his wheelchair when he saw the approaching figure. He wasn't sure why; for a hug, or perhaps to run away? He never was too fearful of his superior—or huggy, either—but the timing was not doing any favors for his nerves.

Mr. D slunk to the porch table like any other summer day. Even his loathing scowl made its cameo.

"What?" he glowered, purple light flashing across his eyes. "Can't a god sit down in peace?"

"You're back," the activities director deadpanned.

He flicked a cluster of lint off his shoulder. "Yeah, well, I didn't just come back to play pinochle and babysit the little brats. I have other things to do—"

Thunder boomed overhead.

"—that I'm not allowed to speak of." Dionysus lowered his voice to a petty grumbling. "Gods, you think he would trust me after I swore on the River Styx, but nooo, I'm too disobedient. Almost like he's not the one that incinerated my mother."

Chiron stroked his beard. "What did you come here for then, my friend?"

He recoiled from the table, like the cloth singed his palms. Something about him being friends with Chiron always made him pause, but he couldn't deny it. Chiron let him keep his Diet Coke in the fridge while he was away, and cat-sat (mount-sat? leopard-sat?) Seymour, so 'colleague' was a little too far gone.

Again, lightning cracked.

Dionysus sighed.

"You've had nine nuisances under your care basically evaporate during a pretold fight, right? Many broken bones in your infirmary?" He waved his hand dismissively. "I'd rally the most uninjured brats for a war council, maybe call the little dears in Cali for extra measures. No on-the-move quests. We don't quite know the details about these monsters, or this prophecy. The Oracle of Delphi has never been clear but—"

Chiron shook his head. "Now now, this isn't Miss Dare's fault. She's losing hair over this right this moment. But did you only come here to tell us that Olympus doesn't know where our demigods are?"

Mr. D huffed, not thrilled about being interrupted. "I tried to tell Father this was unnecessary . . . He's probably trying to distract me for a few minutes."

"I'm guessing your task isn't getting any easier."

"Not one bit." Dionysus scooted out of his chair, hesitating at the sight of the front door. Again, he sighed. "If only there was time for a Diet Coke . . . No, I must return. Goodbye, friend."

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The champion was not pleased to make Jason's acquaintance. At least, Jason thought the Rito flying away was the champion. It certainly wasn't the old lady next to her.

He couldn't see much of her as she streaked across the pale winter sky, but she was much shorter than Vetra, and Jason's head barely cleared her shoulders. Her pigment was more muted, too. Vetra was strikingly green whereas the champion's head was dark, black mixed brown.

Jason half expected her to circle back to watch, but no. Her form faded away within seconds.

Then came the old bird next to her, or the Elder as Vetra called her. She might have been taller in her prime, but a feathery hump across her shoulders curled her frame forward. Her face was a mess of wild russet feathers, her eyes big as pool balls. They were even greener than Percy's, and ogled him like an art exhibit.