Maiden Grim | A Pjo Fanfic

Ch. 20: A Woman's Corpse Bullies Me

The casino was too loud. The adults played blackjack, baccarat, and poker at tables. They huddled together like eager sheep as the dealer slapped down another card, and everyone erupted into groans and cheers. Patrons of all ages sat glued to slot machines. The machines clicked and shuttered while those sat stared with captivated looks. Others played roulette at tables. That wheel always seemed to be spinning.

In fact, it seemed like the casino was never empty. It was always full and bustling. Isra liked playing poker at the kid assigned areas. But sometimes she'd have rare moments of listlessness. Playing a game sounded boring to her now.

Isra wandered aimlessly. She walked past women in evening dresses and men in dapper suits. A server dressed in a red pin-striped uniform walked from table to table, offering confections to guests. They took caramel and buttered popcorn from the server without a single glance. When they stuffed their faces, that dreamy look in their eyes returned full force. The server (Isra wasn't quite sure what they looked like) offered her a small bag of popcorn and she took it without thinking.

She munched on the snack throughout the hotel. Her mind became blissfully muddled. She was raring to play games for the whole night. When she marched down to the casino level, Isra heard the quiet crying and sniffles of a boy echoing against the walls of the stairwell.

Isra quickened her pace and found the kid sitting pitifully on the steps. His face was hidden, being buried in his hands. He wore an aviator jacket so large on his small frame it was comical. All Isra could see of him was the mop of dark curly hair spilling over, as he sat hunched over.

"Are you okay?"

The boy's head shot up. His reddish eyes widened. He shrunk further into himself, glancing uncertainly downstairs. More tears welled up in his eyes. "N-no..."

Isra blinked and sat down next to him. "Why?" she asked, simply.

He sniffed and wiped his tears. "I-I don't know. I-I..."

She hummed. "What's your name?"

"Nico," he said. "Nico di Angelo."

He had an accent. Isra thought it sounded Italian.

"I'm Isra."

Nico perked up. He suddenly grabbed her sleeve. "My sister. I lost my sister." His brow furrowed, like he was trying hard to remember something. "Are you...you're her. You found me!"

"Uh, no." Isra awkwardly tugged his hand off. "I don't have a brother." She tilted her head. "I do have sisters though..." And a father.

Right? Huh. I wonder if I should be looking for them.

"Oh..." Nico's shoulders deflated. "Are they here too?"

Isra frowned. "Who?"

What was this kid talking about?"

"Your..." Nico shook his head. "Um, never mind."

"Who is your sister?"

Nico clutched his head and made a fitful noise, trying to remember. "Her name...Bianca!" He perked up, jumping up onto his feet. "Her name is Bianca. I have to go find her!"

Isra stood, patting off her skirt. "I can help, if you want. I know my way around here."

He looked tentatively hopeful. "Really?"

She nodded, her expression brightening. Isra smiled for what felt like the first time in a while. "Of course."

"Oh no," Isra groaned.

She stared at the mess in horror. The Big House attic was beyond cluttered. It seemed like generations of demigods just threw whatever quest souvenirs they didn't want here. Leather steamer trunks were buried under dented shields, jars of pickled monster heads, broken magical items, and various other odds and ends. There was even a stuffed Hydra head hanging from one balustrade.