Cecilia Holmes, Daughter of Minerva (Sherlock/Percy Jackson crossover)

Chapter 20

    Not again.

    The manticore slapped the ground with her tail and roared. And none of the men in the bar came out to see what it was.

    Seriously? Does the Mist effect sounds, too?

    The manticore slowly approached us, crouching down, getting ready to pounce.

    “Cecilia,” Sherlock whispered, coming to stand directly beside me. “Give me the sword.”

    “What? No way!” I said, quietly, not taking my eyes of the man-eater.

    “Listen to me,” he snapped. “I’ll distract it. But I need you to go after Wilder before he gets away.”

    “Why can’t you do that?” I growled.

    “You’ve fought too many manticores for one day,” he said placing his hand over the hilt of my sword. “And I just happen to know how to use one of these, if you’d let me. Now go! Cecilia! He’s getting away!”

    I looked up and saw James making a break for it, running around the side of the building.    Instinctually I dropped the sword and ran after him. The manticore growled and took a swipe at me, but Sherlock swung the sword and blocked the blow.

    “Don’t let him escape!” Sherlock shouted, facing the manticore head on. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. I rounded the corner and raced toward where he put his bike. He was almost to it.

     Hermes, god of speed, help me!

    James was just hopping on the bike when I made it to him. I grabbed his arm and yanked him away. He stumbled and I reached back my fist to punch him, but he beat me to it. He slapped me and the force the blow sent me reeling to the ground. My head hit the ground and my eyesight went black, and all I could think was that he was a lot stronger than his skinny frame made him appear.    I forced myself to stand up, nearly falling over again in the process. He was riding away on his bike. I stumbled toward him, reaching for the only weapon I had available.

    My iPhone.

    I threw it at the gears of his bike. It skidded to a stop and James frantically kicked at my phone which was stuck in between the chains. I ran, but he forced the iPhone out and started pedaling with all his strength. The fabric of his shirt brushed my fingers, but he sped away faster than I could follow. I cursed in Latin, kneeling down next to my shattered phone. It wasn’t even worth saving. I looked up, but James had already disappeared from sight. I cursed again.

    And then I remembered Sherlock. Jumping up, I dashed toward the bar.

    I ran up the steps of the pub, throwing open the door and running inside. I got a few glances from the men sitting around, watching loud football games with their drinks, but I didn’t mind. As long as they don’t stop me.

    I ducked behind the counter, approaching the door I knew led to the back room I had first seen them in. I would sneak up from behind and attack the manticore. With what? My bear hands if necessary.

    If Hercules did it, I can do it, right?

    Tripping over boxes in the dark room, I hurried toward the door that led back outside. I could hear growls of the manticore and my heartbeat quickened. But, as I was walking past the table where the dead manticore lay in it’s human form, there was suddenly a loud banging sound. I looked over at the table, praying that the manticore wasn’t just unconscious.

    But it wasn’t coming from the manticore. There was a door on the other side of the table, and it shook on it’s hinges. Listening closely, I could hear muffled screams from inside. I hesitated, glancing behind me. But then I rushed toward the closet, keeping my eyes on the door and not the dead man who I had killed.

    I grasped the handle and flung the door open. There on the ground, tied hand and foot, was a boy. He stared up at me, his startling blue eyes opened wide.

    “Woah,” I whispered, staring at him in shock. He yelped through his gag again, snapping me from my stupor. I knelt down. I pulled the cloth off his face and he gasped for air.

    “Thank… you,” he gasped, his shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes.

    “Are you Arthur Saltire?” I asked him as I began to untie his hands.

    “Yes,” the preteen answered quietly. “Who are you?”

    “Cecilia,” I said.

    “How… how did you find me?” he asked hoarsely. “I’ve been here for three days… I had given up hope.”

    “It wasn’t me, it was my dad, Sherlock Holmes,” I said, the words leaving my mouth before I could check them.

    “Sherlock Holmes? Your dad is the famous detective?” he asked, incredulously.

    “Well, erm, yes,” I said, finally freeing his hands and changing the subject. “I’m sure by now you by now that the legends of Greek and Roman mythology are real?”

    He nodded, rubbing his wrists.

    “That’d explain the manticore, wouldn’t it?”

    “Yes,” I chuckled despite myself. “Yes, it would.”

    “So… you’re a demigod, too?”

    I nodded.

    “Daughter of Minerva, at your service,” I said as I released his feet. I stood and helped him up. He was a few inches shorter than me, so he looked up into my eyes.

    “I have so many questions,” he whispered, and my heart melted at the melancholy in his face.

    “I know,” I said, forcing myself to focus. “But they’ll have to wait. The adventure isn’t over yet.”

    I turned toward the door.

    “Come on,” I said.

    “Are— are you taking me home?” he said, wearily. I looked back at him.

    “Yes,” I replied, “As soon as we defeat the other manticore.”

    The words had barely left my lips when a loud roar interrupted me. I turned and sprinted out the door, my heart pounding.

    I could hear Arthur right behind me.