Return of the Titans

CHAPTER TWENTY

I didn't think that I would ever come back to Charbroil Grill, but it was the closest restaurant.

There was a Shell Station across the street of the alley, but if I wanted processed cheese byproduct poured over fried triangles, I would go to Taco Bell. My stomach's spent enough time being jerked around and expected to heal over it. Both it and I wanted normality, for once in our lives.

Tobias led us down Constellation toward the grill. At his own request, Benjamin trotted by his side, with the older satyr's guiding but firm hand on the handle of Ben's wheelchair. Next came Maria, who looked as though we were leading her to her public execution.

Jay and I were together in the back. He was the only one of us who was remotely excited about finally meeting the person who could help us. In-between skipping over cracks, Jay listed off the many ways of what our homely god might look like, because Doc was right about one thing: catching a glimpse of a god was rare, but meeting one was legendary.

"Do you think he's big?" Jay wondered. "Like, freakishly tall, or short but kind of stout? Or, how about his feet?"

"His feet?" I echoed.

"I heard that people with big feet have bad self-confidence." In a softer voice, he said, "That way, when you meet him, he won't reject you."

I knew that Jay was trying to be encouraging, but the last thing that I wanted to think of was the guy that was supposed to help us rejecting me. Up till now, he was just some all-powerful dude that was well-rounded and good. If Doc could trust him, then surely the rest of us could. But Jay also had a point. If everyone that I met up till now thought of me as either strange or a danger, then what would the person who was the boss over everything do?

Was I nervous? Not really, no. I told myself that this was just part of our mission and nothing more. But as Jay went on about the wonders of who he was and could be, my curiosity sparked. What did a god look like? Doc had said that Giants were gods that had went rogue, so the normal ones couldn't have been much different. Were they as terrifying as their counterparts? Were they as unstable as the monsters?

And more importantly, why did that upset me the most?

As we walked down the driveway of the grill, I braced myself for the yellow police tape and glass shards. I was surprised that there wasn't any tape in sight. In fact, there hardly was anything that even teased a possible attack. Everything had been fixed, from the awning to the window. If I didn't know any better, I would have called magic on it, and then I remembered construction workers. They were still very much real.

A busboy swept up loose trash from the parking lot, the flaming red sky to his back. He lifted his head when we came in, and I caught my breath without knowing it. I reminded myself that he couldn't see us, or, at least, not all of us. We weren't wholly invisible, just enough so where nobody freaked out.

Still, it felt bad knowing that all of those times where I felt transparent was actually true.

When we entered the grill, a bell rang over our heads, and a hostess positioned at the front turned away from her podium. Her eyes skimmed the five of us before resting on Tobias. "Welcome to Charbroil Grill. How many guests this evening?"

"Five adults," Tobias answered. "And can you seat us by a booth, please?" He motioned toward Benjamin. It was a small gesture, but the centaur didn't notice it as he stared at the Mexican decorum that decorated the walls and ceiling.