The Daughter of Hecate (Percy Jackson/Harry Potter)

Hephaestus

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic's garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames.

Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls.

Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place. The staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go. Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a '98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out-the lower half of a huge man in grubby grey pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson's. One leg was in a metal brace.

The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging stopped.

"Well, well." A deep voice boomed from under the Corolla. "What have we here?"

The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up.

He wore a jumpsuit smeared with oil and grime. Hephaestus, was embroidered over the chest pocket. His leg creaked and clicked in its metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder was lower than his right, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing up straight. His head was misshapen and bulging. He wore a permanent scowl. His black beard smoked and hissed. Every once in a while a small wildfire would erupt in his whiskers then die out. His hands were the size of catcher's mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.

"There." he muttered to himself. "Much better."

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away.

Hephaestus glowered up at them. "I didn't make you, did I?"

"Uh," Annabeth said, "no, sir."

"Good." the god grumbled. "Shoddy workmanship."

He studied the four demigods. "Half-bloods," he grunted. "Could be automatons, of course, but probably not."

"We've met, sir." Percy told him.

"Have we?" the god asked absently. "Well then, if I didn't smash you to a pulp the first time we met, I suppose I won't have to do it now."

He looked at Grover and frowned. "Satyr." Then he looked at Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. "Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing travelling with this lot?"

"Uh..." said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god. Vitani was doing the same thing, deep down, she wished she could build stuff like automatons. But she had her magic, it was good enough.

"Yes, well said." Hephaestus agreed. "So, there'd better be a good reason you're disturbing me. The suspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you know."

"Sir," Annabeth said hesitantly, "we're looking for Daedalus. We thought-"

"Daedalus?" the god roared. "You want that old scoundrel? You dare to seek him out!"

His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

"Uh, yes, sir, please." Annabeth squeaked.

"Humph. You're wasting your time." He frowned at something on his worktable and limped over to it. He picked up a lump of springs and metal plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he was holding a bronze and silver falcon. It spread its metal wings, blinked its obsidian eyes, and flew around the room.

Tyson laughed and clapped his hands. The bird landed on Tyson's shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately while Vitani looked at the bird in awe.

Hephaestus regarded him. The god's scowl didn't change, but a kinder twinkle set in his eyes. "I sense you have something to tell me, Cyclops."