The Nature of a Demigod

Don't Pet the Exhibits

[Y/N's POV]

I had to sprint to make it inside after Thorn as guards closed the doors quickly after he entered. Inside of the room, my stomach did a front flip.

It was a huge room with a second floor balcony. A bunch of mortals surrounded the room, standing guard, plus a pair of Scythian dracaenae.

That wasn't the worst thing about it. Between the two snake women was Luke. If I wasn't invisible, he'd have been staring right at me. He looked awful, like he'd been the one holding up all that rock this whole time. He was pale, and his hair had started to turn gray, like he was closer to thirty now than the twenty something he was.

He still had that angered glimmer in his eye, but it wasn't as strong. The scar on his face was bright red, like another dragon had scratched him in the same exact spot recently.

Next to him, sitting down, were two men. They were both covered in shadows, but I could still see two pairs of calloused hands sticking out from the darkness. One of them spoke, the man from my dream with an icy voice. "Well?" he asked. When he spoke, it felt like the entire earth shook under me.

Dr. Thorn took off his shades. His two-colored eyes, brown and blue, glittered with excitement. He made a stiff bow, then spoke in his weird French accent: "They are here, General."

"We know that, you wretch," boomed the other man. It was the guy from my dream that Artemis was scared of. The lieutenant. "But where are they?"

"In the rocket museum."

"The Air and Space Museum," Luke corrected irritably. Dr. Thorn glared at Luke. "As you say, sir." I got the feeling Thorn would just as soon impale Luke with one of his spikes as call him sir.

"How many?" Luke asked.

Thorn pretended not to hear. "How many?" the General demanded.

"Four, General," Thorn said. "The satyr, Grover Underwood. And the girl with the spiky black hair and the, how do you say, punk clothes and the horrible shield."

"Thalia," Luke said. "And two other girls. Hunters. One wears a silver circlet."

"That one I know," the General growled. "The goddess' son is not among them?" the Lieutenant's voice boomed. "No sir." Thorn said, shaking in his boots. "Unsurprising. The hunters would never let him come willingly."

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably. "Let me take them," Luke said to the pair. "We have more than enough-"

"Patience," the General said. "They'll have their hands full already. I've sent a little playmate to keep them occupied."

"But-"

"We cannot risk you, my boy."

"Yes, boy," Dr. Thorn said with a cruel smile. "You are much too fragile to risk. Let me finish them off."

"No." The General rose from his chair, and I caught my first glimpse of him. He was tall and muscular, like he'd been working out nonstop for years. He had light brown skin, and hair a few shades darker. He wore a suit that looked way too expensive. His face looked like he'd been in wars before. It made sense that he was called the general.

"You have already failed me, Thorn," he said. "But, General-"

"No excuses!" Thorn flinched. I'd thought Thorn was scary when I first saw him in his black uniform at the military academy. But now, standing before the General, Thorn looked like a silly wannabe soldier. The General was the real deal. He didn't need a uniform. He was a born commander.