My Boyfriend is a Dead Roman Hero | Jason Grace

I Witness a Murder

Things don't stay light for long.

Julie wakes up to a frantic Annabeth banging at her door clutching her blue flip phone. Just like that fateful day in December, she's dragged from her bed in her pajamas and pulled across camp, this time to her usual takeoff area. A hasty explanation from the blonde later, Juliette's in the air, passenger clinging tightly to her back spines as her powerful wings carry them over the strawberry fields at max speed.

Normally, the flight to the Jackson apartment takes about twenty minutes. They make it there in eight.

The fear pouring out of Annabeth and pumping through Juliette's own body is enough to fuel her beyond even being out of breath when they land heavily on the creaky old fire escape. Paul is already waiting at the window to let them in. He pushes it open, and both girls vault inside without losing pace, making a break for the kitchen towards the sound of desperate, gut-wrenching sobs.

Sally is on her knees on the tiles, clutching the phone to her chest.

Julie doesn't know what to do. The grief and terror in the air is too much for her. Her skin starts to buzz, her vision tinting green. She has to freeze in place to keep her human form. Annabeth sends her an understanding nod and steps up instead.

"Mrs. Jackson?" She asks gently.

Sally gasps, whipping around in surprise. Julie feels her own tears start to burn at the sight of her stepmother's puffy eyes. She feels Paul wrap an arm around her from behind and melts back into her stepdad's embrace. Annabeth drops to her knees beside Sally and gently pries the phone from her grasp.

The woman takes in a deep breath, seemingly trying to collect herself. She closes her eyes and gives them the ghost of a smile. "He called." She whispers.

Julie's heart stops.

"I didn't hear it. We were asleep. He left a message." Sally mumbles, voice trembling.

Annabeth looks down at the phone in her hand like it's a live grenade, eyes wide and face white. The anxiety in the air is so potent, Juliette's legs start feeling like they're being stabbed by acupuncture needles. Paul helps her lower to the ground and keeps a steady arm around her shoulders as they watch Annabeth steel herself.

Finally, with trembling fingers, the blonde pushes the button.

"Mom?"

Hearing Percy's voice again almost makes Julie throw up. In a good way. Sort of. Relief courses through her so powerfully that her legs buckle, and she's pulled tighter into Paul's arms, bundled up like a sad little Julie-burrito as she sobs freely into his shoulder. She can hear Sally strangling back her own tears again. Annabeth is silent, stone faced, staring straight ahead.

The voicemail is only about a minute long. It's the best, most agonizing minute of Julie's short life yet.

"I'll make it home. I promise. I love you."

The dial tone stays ringing throughout the apartment for twenty minutes after the message ends while Percy Jackson's family sits numbly on the cold floor of their kitchen.

--

"Do you have everything?" Julie asks nervously.

Annabeth sighs and rolls her eyes fondly. "Yes, Mom, I'm all packed. You've gone over it three times by now."

Juliette nods, chewing on her lip as she watches the older girl zip up her grey suitcase. She hops on the balls of her feet and glances through the window at where the Argo II is docked. "I really think I should go with you tomorrow."