Catching Lightning | Jason Grace

viii

☀️☀️☀️

Aurora started to regret not taking Jason up on his offer to get some rest. As hard as it was for her to sleep during the day, she'd forgotten that the night had just as much of an effect on her. The lower the sun set the farther it seemed to pull her eyelids down with it. She shook her head and lightly slapped her face to rid herself of the drowsiness.

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. In the center was an actual castle, with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked green roof.

"Tell me that 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, 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."

"Fiesty!" Leo said. "So you know so much, what's that castle."

" A hotel, I think."

Leo laughed. "No way."

As they got closer, Aurora 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 saying in a hotel?" Leo said. "That can't be-"

"Heads up, guys," Jason interrupted. "We got company!"

Aurora 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 he made a rumbling sound in his throat.

"Steady, boy," Leo muttered.

"I don't like this," Jason said. "They look like storm spirits."

At first, Aurora thought he was right, but as the angels got closer, she 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 of a 1980's rock album cover. His ice-white hair was long and feathered into a mullet. He wore pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that were too tight, and a gods-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 their other problems, he had a French accent so bad it had to be fake. "This is restricted airspace."