Down in Flames [OC Demigod Fic]

Chapter Twenty-One: "Special Delivery"

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going?" The police officer says as he munches on a pink sprinkled donut. His mustache twitches with authority as he stares at me through his tinted sunglasses.

"Seventy-five, that's only five above the limit!" I answer indignantly. I'm not about to let this cop intimidate me into a ticket.

He grumbles, "I'm going to need to see your identification."

I gulp, but keep a brave face. "I don't have it with me, sir."

The cop takes another bite of his donut and smiles smugly. "Looks like I'll have to take you three in for questioning."

I open my mouth to protest, but something he said stops me for a moment. You three?

"Nope, I'm not here, officer. You never saw me," Dennis waves his hands around mystically and disappears.

The police officer takes off his sunglasses and sighs, shaking his head. "Fleeing the crime scene is a serious offense, but since the culprit is not currently a resident of the mortal world, I suppose I can let it slide."

My eyebrows furrowing in confusion, I tilt my head at the officer, wondering who he is. There aren't any gods that I know of who disguise as police officers.

"Okay, I'll give up the act," he says, as if reading my thoughts. "Mercury, at your service."

As soon as she hears the word 'Mercury', Pearl straightens her posture. She bows curtly, answering, "It is truly an honor to be in your presence."

I blink a couple of times. "Why are you dressed like a cop?"

Mercury laughs boisterously. "I like your friend, she knows exactly what to say. And to answer your question, I've found that driving a police car is a great way of travel. I get to drive over the speed limit, run traffic lights, mortals will gladly move out of my way..." He grins smugly. With a flick of his hand, a letter and a medium-sized package appears in it. "Anyway, I'm just a messenger, not a cop."

He squints at the writing on the letters and package. "I'm here to deliver these to a Sabine Bruller? I've been told that you cannot open the package until you arrive at Camp Half-Blood, or else you'll be smited." Mercury shrugs.

"Yes, that's me," I reply. He nods and gladly hands the letter and package over to me. I delicately take them, in case the contents are secretly explosive or the like. "Thank you. I'll take your word for it."

The weight of the mysterious box begins to peak my curiosity. I remember hearing the story of Pandora's box. I would have never opened the box, I'd always thought to myself. Now I see why it was so hard for her not to open it. As tempting as it may be to open it early, I remind myself that I'll be at Camp Half-Blood in only a few days.

"I apologize for not having an offering prepared," Pearl says with utmost respect. She holds out a couple of packets of M&Ms— my M&Ms, in fact— and adds, "I hope these will suffice."

Mercury looks a bit taken aback as he snatches the packets gleefully. "I love meeting demigods who show true appreciation. Who did you say you were again?"

"Pearl. Pearl Carraway," she announces. "Daughter of Timor, probatio member of the Fifth Cohort."

Mercury waits a beat. "...Right! So, where are you kids headed?"

"New York," I reply.

"Might as well bump you up a few states, to make up for the delay. I'll wait until your ghostly friend gets back." I watch forlornly as the god of travel pops a handful of M&Ms into his mouth.

"No need to wait, sir! I'm all set," Dennis calls out, having suddenly reappeared in the backseat, buckled in and all. Typical.

"Bon voyage!" Mercury winks at me before backing away from our jeep. I wonder if he spoke French on purpose— I never really cared much about ancestry before I became a demigod, but I'm beginning to realize that a person's background can define them. Now that I know my heritage, I feel a step closer to understanding who I am and who I'm meant to be.

It's as if I have the pieces to the puzzle, but I haven't figured out how they fit together quite yet. I doubt I ever will.

Mercury snaps his fingers and the scenery outside the jeep whirls around in a colorful blur, making me dizzy. Moments later, our surroundings become clear. The jeep is parked in a residential area; I look up to see a street sign indicating that the road is named none other than Mercury Drive.

"I'll find out where we are. Be back in a jiffy," Dennis tells us and dissolves away. I look onward as the thin trace of his dim outline traipses down the sidewalk.

Pearl wears an assured smile on her face as she pulls a bag of Skittles out of her backpack. Of course, she couldn't possibly have given Mercury the Skittles. I'm not a fan of the fruit-flavored candies, but they happen to be one of Pearl's favorite snacks. At any rate, I ought to be filling my stomach with delicious beads of chocolate. Instead, my pretentious quest-mate is happily tasting the rainbow.

"That went well, don't you think?" She beams at me.

"That was some quick thinking back there," I refer to her over-the-top admiration for the god, who ate up her act like it was ambrosia. "You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you?"

"Naturally. This may be a shock to you, but I can have excellent social skills when I want to."

I give her a stony look. "You mean when you want something from someone."

Pearl shrugs. "I guess, if that's how you choose to look at it."

"You can't always use persuasion to get your way." I knew our quarreling wouldn't stop forever. I can't help it that we disagree on nearly everything.

"Not all of us have the privilege of being born into one of the most powerful, prestigious families in New Rome," she retorts.

I look down guiltily, imagining myself in her place. Being in the Fifth Cohort, Pearl probably didn't have any reference letters or family ties to Camp Jupiter. She's the only daughter of Timor that anyone knows of, making her the ultimate outcast. Yet she has the desire to defy the odds and bring herself to the top of the hierarchy— and by any means necessary.

Thankfully, Dennis appears before I can say anything; I didn't have any good comebacks ready, anyway.

"Good ol' Merc wasn't kidding when he said he'd bump us up a few states. We're in Jackson, Mississippi."