Daughter of Pluto | Wattys2017

XXIV

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All right, I thought as Aimee fell asleep—pretty clear signal she didn't want to talk.

We flew in silence for a while. Festus seemed to know where he was going. He kept his course, gently curving toward the southwest and hopefully Aeolus's fortress. Another wind god to visit, a whole new flavor of crazy—Oh, boy, I just couldn't wait.

I had way too much on my mind to sleep, but now that I was out danger, my body had different ideas. My energy level was crashing. The monotonous beat of the dragon's wings made my eyes feel heavy and the subtle warmth from Aimee made me even more relaxed. My head started to nod.

"Catch a few Z's," Jason said from his spot behind Aimee. "It's cool. Hand me the reins."

"Nah, I'm okay—"

"Leo," Jason said, "you're not a machine. Besides, I'm the only one who can see the vapor trail. I'll make sure we stay on course."

My eyes started to close on their own. "All right. Maybe just ..."

I didn't finish the sentence before slumping back leaning my head back on Aimee's shoulder.

In my dream, I heard a voice full of static, like a bad AM radio: "Hello? Is this thing working?"

My vision came into focus—sort of. Everything was hazy and gray, with bands of interference running across his sight. I'd never dreamed with a bad connection before.

I seemed to be in a workshop. Out of the corners of my eyes I saw bench saws, metal lathes, and tool cages. A forge glowed cheerfully against one wall.

It wasn't the camp forge—too big. Not Bunker 9—much warmer and more comfortable, obviously not abandoned.

Then I realized something was blocking the middle of my view—something large and fuzzy, and so close, I had to cross my eyes to see it properly. It was a large ugly face.

"Holy mother!" I yelped stumbling backwards.

The face backed away and came into focus. Staring down at me was a bearded man in grimy blue coveralls. His face was lumpy and covered with welts, as if he'd been bitten by a million bees, or dragged across gravel. Possibly both.

"Humph," the man said. "Holy father, boy. I should think you'd know the difference."

I blinked. "Hephaestus?"

Being in the presence of his father for the first time, I probably should've been speechless and awestruck or something. But after what I'd been through the last couple of days, with Cyclopes and a sorceress and a face in the potty sludge, all I felt was a surge of complete annoyance.

"Now you show up?" I demanded,clearly pissed off. "After fifteen years? Great parenting, Fur Face. Where do you get off sticking your ugly nose into my dreams?"

The god raised an eyebrow. A little spark caught fire in his beard. Then he threw back his head and laughed so loudly, the tools rattled on the workbenches.

"You sound just like your mother," Hephaestus said. "I miss Esperanza."

"She's been dead seven years." My voice trembled. "Not that you'd care."

"But I do care, boy. About both of you."

"Uh-huh. Which is why I never saw you before today."

The god made a rumbling sound in his throat, but he looked more uncomfortable than angry. He pulled a miniature motor from his pocket and began fiddling absently with the pistons—just the way Leo did when he was nervous.