The Lost Hero

XVIII LEO

IT SEEMED HE SLEPT ONLY FOR SECONDS, but when Piper shook him awake, the daylight was fading.

“We’re here,” she said.

Leo rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Below them, a city sat on a cliff overlooking a river. The plains around it were dusted with snow, but the city itself glowed warmly in the winter sunset. Buildings crowded together inside high walls like a medieval town, way older than any place Leo had seen before. In the center was an actual castle—at least Leo assumed it was a castle—with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked, green gabled roof.

“Tell me that’s Quebec and not Santa’s workshop,” Leo said.

“Yeah, Quebec City,” Piper confirmed. “One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Your dad do a movie about that too?”

She made a face at him, which Leo was used to, but it didn’t quite work with her new glamorous makeup. “I read sometimes, okay? Just because Aphrodite claimed me, doesn’t mean I have to be an airhead.”

“Feisty!” Leo said. “So you know so much, what’s that castle?”

“A hotel, I think.”

Leo laughed. “No way.”

But as they got closer, Leo saw she was right. The grand entrance was bustling with doormen, valets, and porters taking bags. Sleek black luxury cars idled in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurried to get out of the cold.

“The North Wind is staying in a hotel?” Leo said. “That can’t be—”

“Heads up, guys,” Jason interrupted. “We got company!”

Leo looked below and saw what Jason meant. Rising from the top of the tower were two winged figures—angry angels, with nasty-looking swords.

Festus didn’t like the angel guys. He swooped to a halt in midair, wings beating and talons bared, and made a rumbling sound in his throat that Leo recognized. He was getting ready to blow fire.

“Steady, boy,” Leo muttered. Something told him the angels would not take kindly to getting torched.

“I don’t like this,” Jason said. “They look like storm spirits.”

At first Leo thought he was right, but as the angels got closer, he could see they were much more solid than venti. They looked like regular teenagers except for their icy white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords were jagged, like icicles. Their faces looked similar enough that they might’ve been brothers, but they definitely weren’t twins.

One was the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy clearly had been in too many fights, because both his eyes were black, and when he bared his teeth, several of them were missing.

The other guy looked like he’d just stepped off one of Leo’s mom’s 1980s rock album covers—Journey, maybe, or Hall & Oates, or something even lamer. His ice-white hair was long and feathered into a mullet. He wore pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that were way too tight, and a god-awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open. Maybe he thought he looked like a groovy love god, but the guy couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, and he had a bad case of acne.

The angels pulled up in front of the dragon and hovered there, swords at the ready.

The hockey ox grunted. “No clearance.”

“’Scuse me?” Leo said.

“You have no flight plan on file,” explained the groovy love god. On top of his other problems, he had a French accent so bad Leo was sure it was fake. “This is restricted airspace.”

“Destroy them?” The ox showed off his gap-toothed grin.

The dragon began to hiss steam, ready to defend them. Jason summoned his golden sword, but Leo cried, “Hold on!

Let’s have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?”

“I am Cal!” the ox grunted. He looked very proud of himself, like he’d taken a long time to memorize that sentence.

“That’s short for Calais,” the love god said. “Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables—”

“Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!” Cal offered.

“—which includes his own name,” the love god finished.

“I am Cal,” Cal repeated. “And this is Zethes! My brother!”

“Wow,” Leo said. “That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go.”

Cal grunted, obviously pleased with himself.

“Stupid buffoon,” his brother grumbled. “They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short for Zethes. And the lady there—” He winked at Piper, but the wink was more like a facial seizure. “She can call me anything she likes. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you?”

Piper made a sound like gagging on a cough drop. “That’s … a truly horrifying offer.”

“It is no problem.” Zethes wiggled his eyebrows. “We are a very romantic people, we Boreads.”

“Boreads?” Jason cut in. “Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of us!” Zethes looked pleased. “We are our father’s gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples.”

He pointed below, and Leo saw that the mortals were starting to take notice. Several were pointing up—not with alarm, yet—more with confusion and annoyance, like the dragon was a traffic helicopter flying too low.

“Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing,” Zethes said, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, “we will have to destroy you painfully.”

“Destroy!” Cal agreed, with a little more enthusiasm than Leo thought necessary.

“Wait!” Piper said. “This is an emergency landing.”

“Awww!” Cal looked so disappointed, Leo almost felt sorry for him.

Zethes studied Piper, which of course he’d already been doing. “How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?”

“We have to see Boreas. It’s totally urgent! Please?” She forced a smile, which Leo figured must’ve been killing her; but she still had that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looked great. Something about her voice, too—Leo found himself believing every word. Jason was nodding, looking absolutely convinced.

Zethes picked at his silk shirt, probably making sure it was still open wide enough. “Well … I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you—”

“And our dragon is malfunctioning!” Piper added. “It could crash any minute!”

Festus shuddered helpfully, then turned his head and spilled gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below.

“No destroy?” Cal whimpered.

Zethes pondered the problem. Then he gave Piper another spasmodic wink. “Well, you are pretty. I mean, you’re right. A malfunctioning dragon—this could be an emergency.”

“Destroy them later?” Cal offered, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.

“It will take some explaining,” Zethes decided. “Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Follow us.”

The Boreads sheathed their swords and pulled smaller weapons from their belts—or at least Leo thought they were weapons. Then the Boreads switched them on, and Leo realized they were flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turned and swooped toward the hotel’s tower.

Leo turned to his friends. “I love these guys. Follow them?”

Jason and Piper didn’t look eager.

“I guess,” Jason decided. “We’re here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn’t been kind to visitors.”

“Pfft, he just hasn’t met us.” Leo whistled. “Festus, after those flashlights!”

As they got closer, Leo worried they’d crash into the tower. The Boreads made right for the green gabled peak and didn’t slow down. Then a section of the slanted roof slid open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom were lined with icicles like jagged teeth.

“This cannot be good,” Jason muttered, but Leo spurred the dragon downward, and they swooped in after the Boreads.

They landed in what must have been the penthouse suite; but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall had vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows, and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back of the room led up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branched off to the left and right. But the ice made the room’s beauty a little frightening. When Leo slid off the dragon, the carpet crunched under his feet. A fine layer of frost covered the furniture. The curtains didn’t budge because they were frozen solid, and the ice-coated windows let in weird watery light from the sunset. Even the ceiling was furry with icicles. As for the stairs, Leo was sure he’d slip and break his neck if he tried to climb them.

“Guys,” Leo said, “fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in.”

“Not me.” Jason looked uneasily at the staircase. “Something feels wrong. Something up there …”

Festus shuddered and snorted flames. Frost started to form on his scales.

“No, no, no.” Zethes marched over, though how he could walk in those pointy leather shoes, Leo had no idea. “The dragon must be deactivated. We can’t have fire in here. The heat ruins my hair.”

Festus growled and spun his drill-bit teeth.

“’S’okay, boy.” Leo turned to Zethes. “The dragon’s a little touchy about the whole deactivation concept. But I’ve got a better solution.”

“Destroy?” Cal suggested.

“No, man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait.”

“Leo,” Piper said nervously, “what are you—”

“Watch and learn, beauty queen. When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all kinds of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But others … Ah, here we go.”

Leo hooked his fingers behind the dragon’s left foreleg. He pulled a switch, and the dragon shuddered from head to toe. Everyone backed away as Festus folded like origami. His bronze plating stacked together. His neck and tail contracted into his body. His wings collapsed and his trunk compacted until he was a rectangular metal wedge the size of a suitcase.

Leo tried to lift it, but the thing weighed about six billion pounds. “Um … yeah. Hold on. I think—aha.”

He pushed another button. A handle flipped up on the top, and wheels clicked out on the bottom.

“Ta-da!” he announced. “The world’s heaviest carry-on bag!”

“That’s impossible,” Jason said. “Something that big couldn’t—”

“Stop!” Zethes ordered. He and Cal both drew their swords and glared at Leo.

Leo raised his hands. “Okay … what’d I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don’t have to take the dragon as carry-on—”

“Who are you?” Zethes shoved the point of his sword against Leo’s chest. “A child of the South Wind, spying on us?”

“What? No!” Leo said. “Son of Hephaestus. Friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!”

Cal growled. He put his face up to Leo’s, and he definitely wasn’t any prettier at point-blank, with his bruised eyes and bashed-in mouth. “Smell fire,” he said. “Fire is bad.”

“Oh.” Leo’s heart raced. “Yeah, well … my clothes are kind of singed, and I’ve been working with oil, and—”

“No!” Zethes pushed Leo back at sword point. “We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I still smell fire … on you.”

If it hadn’t been like three degrees in the penthouse, Leo would’ve started sweating. “Hey … look … I don’t know—” He glanced at his friends desperately. “Guys, a little help?”

Jason already had his gold coin in his hand. He stepped forward, his eyes on Zethes. “Look, there’s been a mistake. Leo isn’t a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you’re not a fire guy.”

“Um …”

“Zethes?” Piper tried her dazzling smile again, though she looked a little too nervous and cold to pull it off. “We’re all friends here. Put down your swords and let’s talk.”

“The girl is pretty,” Zethes admitted, “and of course she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness; but sadly, I cannot romance her at this time.” He poked his sword point farther into Leo’s chest, and Leo could feel the frost spreading across his shirt, turning his skin numb.

He wished he could reactivate Festus. He needed some backup. But it would’ve taken several minutes, even if he could reach the button, with two purple-winged crazy guys in his path.

“Destroy him now?” Cal asked his brother.

Zethes nodded. “Sadly, I think—”

“No,” Jason insisted. He sounded calm enough, but Leo figured he was about two seconds away from flipping that coin and going into full gladiator mode. “Leo’s just a son of Hephaestus. He’s no threat. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. I’m the son of Zeus. We’re on a peaceful …”

Jason’s voice faltered, because both Boreads had suddenly turned on him.

“What did you say?” Zethes demanded. “You are the son of Zeus?”

“Um … yeah,” Jason said. “That’s a good thing, right? My name is Jason.”

Cal looked so surprised, he almost dropped his sword. “Can’t be Jason,” he said. “Doesn’t look the same.”

Zethes stepped forward and squinted at Jason’s face. “No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me—but stylish. Besides, our Jason died millennia ago.”

“Wait,” Jason said. “Your Jason … you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?”

“Of course,” Zethes said. “We were his crewmates aboard his ship, the Argo, in the old times, when we were mortal demigods. Then we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look this good for all time, and my silly brother could enjoy pizza and hockey.”

“Hockey!” Cal agreed.

“But Jason—our Jason—he died a mortal death,” Zethes said. “You can’t be him.”

“I’m not,” Jason agreed.

“So, destroy?” Cal asked. Clearly the conversation was giving his two brain cells a serious workout.

“No,” Zethes said regretfully. “If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we’ve been watching for.”

“Watching for?” Leo asked. “You mean like in a good way: you’ll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for like in a bad way: he’s in trouble?”

A girl’s voice said, “That depends on my father’s will.”

Leo looked up the staircase. His heart nearly stopped. At the top stood a girl in a white silk dress. Her skin was unnaturally pale, the color of snow, but her hair was a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. She focused on Leo with no expression, no smile, no friendliness. But it didn’t matter. Leo was in love. She was the most dazzling girl he’d ever seen.

Then she looked at Jason and Piper, and seemed to understand the situation immediately.

“Father will want to see the one called Jason,” the girl said.

“Then it is him?” Zethes asked excitedly.

“We’ll see,” the girl said. “Zethes, bring our guests.”

Leo grabbed the handle of his bronze dragon suitcase. He wasn’t sure how he’d lug it up the stairs, but he had to get next to that girl and ask her some important questions—like her e-mail address and phone number.

Before he could take a step, she froze him with a look. Not literally froze, but she might as well have.

“Not you, Leo Valdez,” she said.

In the back of his mind, Leo wondered how she knew his name; but mostly he was just concentrating on how crushed he felt.

“Why not?” He probably sounded like a whiny kindergartner, but he couldn’t help it.

“You cannot be in the presence of my father,” the girl said. “Fire and ice—it would not be wise.”

“We’re going together,” Jason insisted, putting his hand on Leo’s shoulder, “or not at all.”

The girl tilted her head, like she wasn’t used to people refusing her orders. “He will not be harmed, Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez here. Guard him, but do not kill him.”

Cal pouted. “Just a little?”

“No,” the girl insisted. “And take care of his interesting suitcase, until Father passes judgment.”

Jason and Piper looked at Leo, their expressions asking him a silent question: How do you want to play this?

Leo felt a surge of gratitude. They were ready to fight for him. They wouldn’t leave him alone with the hockey ox. Part of him wanted to go for it, bust out his new tool belt and see what he could do, maybe even summon a fireball or two and warm this place up. But the Boread guys scared him. And that gorgeous girl scared him more, even if he still wanted her number.

“It’s fine, guys,” he said. “No sense causing trouble if we don’t have to. You go ahead.”

“Listen to your friend,” the pale girl said. “Leo Valdez will be perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for you, son of Zeus. Now come, King Boreas is waiting.”