The Moon's Shine (PJO)

Chapter 40

". . . Lady Aphrodite actually . . ." Connor shakily started as the fog dissipated and revealed the goddess of love, who stood beside Percy.

"favors that dunce . . ." Travis finished for him—and in his disquiet, broke character from an intimidating leader with tens of followers to a frightened, normal demigod.

With flowing red hair, plump red lips, and sculpted cheekbones, the Olympian looked like a supermodel. And with the alluring aura around her, everyone couldn't help but feel attracted—or jealous—of her beauty.

"Lady Aphrodite," Travis said, descending into a graceful bow—but he couldn't hide his blush. "May I know the reason why you're gracing us with your presence?" He signaled his posse to emulate him.

"That's what I was trying to figure out," Aphrodite told him. "But after seeing that girl's state of mind, I think I understand."

Horatio, among others, shivered under her cold tone, which was like falling snow. "We're screwed," Caroline heard him mutter to Travis.

Travis whacked him on the head. "Shut up, idiot! Lady Aphrodite could melt us down to the bones with just a glance."

"Did you have to hit me so hard?" Horatio hissed out, rubbing a spot on his skull where a bulge had formed. "My brain's in there." But when Travis threatened him with another blow, he quietened down.

You deserve worse, Caroline thought, imagining the sentence developing into a spear as dark as the night and shooting straight at Horatio—right into his heart.

Horatio clutched his chest, then looked at Caroline in confusion, and she quickly looked down. Even though an immortal was there, making eye contact was dangerous. But she couldn't help but think about his pain. Was it because of me?

No. She wasn't that powerful. It was probably a coincidence—a very convenient coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless.

However, she couldn't shake off that feeling—the one that told her she had done it.

While this ruckus was taking place, Lady Aphrodite and Percy talked as they were at a restaurant, ignoring the three dozen kneeling demigods.

"Why'd you come down here?" Percy questioned the immortal.

"My champion summoned me. I can't just ignore him, can I?"

Hearing this, Travis was taken aback; he'd thought Percy had somehow called Lady Aphrodite down. But his nonchalant, down-to-earth tone was the same as when he used to insult the Olympians in their throne room—and there was no way Percy'd voluntarily become a plaything of a god.

Travis' spirits rose. Maybe Lady Aphrodite came here to help us . . .

But his deduction was shot to the ground when Percy said, "You could've. In fact, I thought you would ignore me. It's more of your style to snap your fingers from your castle at Olympus and kill all of these hooligans."

"I'm your patron. It's my duty to assist my champion in any way I can."

"Um . . . if I may," Horatio piped up nervously. "According to divine law, if a god takes up a champion, it is presupposed that the champion's the one who follows the will of the patron, not . . . whatever you're doing." When he saw Aphrodite's pointed glare, he quickly added, "My lady."

"What's your name?" Aphrodite asked him in a dangerous tone.

"Horatio Ambulavi, O most revered Olympian." His heart beat faster; was he finally receiving the recognition he deserved? Maybe, if he utilized the opportunity correctly, he could become an associate architect for Olympus, working right underneath his esteemed cabin leader. He didn't care if he got something lower, like the Camp's lead strategist—anything was better than toiling for the stupid son of Hermes he called "boss."