The Boy of Shadows and Sin

Chapter 9

Will was hardly inclined to argue with the mysterious person at the end of the street, primarily because he wasn't privy to a disagreement with someone holding a knife to his throat. He gulped, feeling the razor edge graze his skin.

The person in the chiton stalked towards Will menacingly, holding his hand at the level of his eyes. There were gloves on his hands, leather gloves that provided a startling contrast to his traditional clothing.

He stepped under a streetlight, and Will blinked. He was so young! Very near to his own age, it seemed. Quite tall as well.

The boy shook his head. "Apollo," he muttered with disgust. "Of course you'd be one of Apollo's brood. What are you, then? An archer? Medic? Musician, artist, MLB star?"

His voice was rather deep, but not ungodly so, with a mix of American and French accents colliding.

Will made a weak gesture to the blade scraping against his Adam's apple. He felt a thin line of blood trickle down his collar.

The boy sighed. "Oh, I suppose." He dropped his hand down and the blade flew away from Will. It hovered at the boy's side.

Will stood tall. "I'm a medic, and musician. But that really doesn't tell you anything at all. Who are you?

"And what makes you think that I'm going to tell you that?" he snapped.

For a moment his American accent overtook the French and he sounded just like every other arrogant teenager Will had ever known.

"Well, you're a demigod alone in the streets of Paris. I'm quite sure that puts us in a similar position. I kinda need some help at this point." If that wasn't an understatement, then Will might as well steal the master bolt and call himself Zeus.

A second passed, and then another, and Will was scared that he would have to fight the boy in the chiton. He had never fought anyone before, not anymore than mock battles in the arena at camp. Even during capture the flag and other war games, he never played in the games himself, just as a medic on the side to help when other people got hurt. Would he be able to fight? He had never been able to visualise himself taking someone's life, or injuring anyone in any way. It completely went against what he had dedicated his life to—healing. Would he be able to bring himself to swing that axe? He wasn't sure, and that only made him more nervous, because he didn't know if he found that comforting or terrifying.

Fortunately for Will, he didn't have to make a decision involving someone's blood being spilled. The boy walked up to him and extended a hand tensely. "My name," he said, "is Damian West and my mother is Hekate. And yes, irritating as I'm sure you are, you're right about one thing—you definitely need my help."

Will let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, and shook the young man's hand. "Will Solace. And yes, despite how irritating I might prove to be, my friends are in a spot of trouble, form what, I can tell. Well, more accurately from what I can't tell. Rather hard to say, considering they seem to have disappeared off the face of the earth."

Slowly Damian nodded. "Yes, you certainly are in a spot of trouble, aren't you. But! But, that doesn't mean that I'm going to help you, son of Apollo."

Any hope Will had had that he could find Ricky and Nico within the night rose up in his throat and threatened to choke him. "What?" he squeaked, feeling like Damian had punched him in the stomach and left him breathless.

"You heard me," Damian said, adjusting the glove on his left hand. Dimly Will noted that both hands were covered with scars, short, neat nicks that covered almost every inch of skin. "I don't think that I'm going to help you. You're a son of Apollo, alone and lost in the Paris streets. And an American, to boot. I'd bet my gloves that you don't speak more than three words of French.."

"You're American," Will snapped. "And if it makes any difference, the friend that I'm looking for is Nico di Angelo, assistant to the Seven of the Great Prophecy, and likely the true saviour of demigods all over the world. Would you be the one to say, once he's found dead, that you could have saved him but didn't?"

"Bah!" Damian spat. "What do I care about your heroes? The war is over. Now you're just another demigod in a world full of demigods. And for your information, I am not American. Got it?"

But Will could see it in his eyes, that Damian didn't quite agree with what he was saying. There was a grudging admiration there.

"What have you got to lose?" Will persuaded. "You could help me and say that you are the one who saved Nico di Angelo."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registered that he had switched from thinking "Ricky and Nico" to just Nico.

Damian sighed. "I suppose that if I leave now, you'll get killed, and then it'll basically be my fault." He shook his head and looked up at the night sky, with the sliver of waning moon. "Why am I so nice?"

Will had to hold back a fit of hysterical laughter. The hand that had been squeezing his heart let go and he felt like he could breathe again.

"Thank you," he said, and he didn't know if he had ever meant anything as much as he did right then.

"Don't thank me just yet," Damian muttered grimly. "You're an Apollo kid. I'm rather tempted to slit your throat right about now. But before then, tell me about this quest of yours. I need to know what I'm getting myself into."

Will had to wonder what his beef was with Apollo, because he kept saying the name like it was basilisk venom in his mouth, but he told Damian the whole story, from the unauthorised leaving of camp, to the prophecy, to how he had gotten out onto the street on his own.

Damian swore in French.

"You know what's going on?" Will asked.

"No. But it's really not good. Definitely not good in any way at all."

Will swore in English and Greek. "How do you fight?" he asked, to move onto something slightly less doomy and gloomy.

Damian flicked his wrist almost imperceptibly, and all of a sudden there were blades hovering all around him, nicking his bare skin, poking at his ribs. The boy waved his hand again, and the blades all retreated, attaching themselves to the gloves on his hands..

"I had a friend of mine, a child of Hephaestus, make them, and then I enchanted them myself. I also know incantations. And I suppose you fight with that conveniently hidden axe around your wrist?"

Will's hand went to the hemp bracelet, the one that Ricky had given him. "Well, not really. I mean I can, but I...I don't fight."

Damian raised an eyebrow.

"Look, can we just get going now?" Will asked. Now he had two tasks--save his sister, save his two friends. But he got a feeling that the two were connected, that the reason they had disappeared was the same in both cases.

Damian sighed again. "Fine. But don''t expect me to save you every time we get attacked, and believe me, we're going to get attacked a lot on this trip."

Will nodded. He needed to get something from the motel room before they left.

Nico opened his eyes, slowly. His head hurt, like someone was repeatedly hitting him in the skull with a hammer.

The room was dark, and Nico couldn't see much. Not that he expected there to be anything really in the room. He was lying down on a hard floor, probably made of rock. His suspicion was confirmed when he placed a hand to a rough, rounded cave wall behind him.

He didn't move. It hurt to move.

But there was something that Nico hated even more than the pain, the helplessness, and that was the fear he felt like a noose around his neck... It had been so long since he had been scared, since he had let himself taste fear.

He was alone. He was scared.

He was so scared