TAMING APOLLO | completed

15. the subtle art of repugnance

G A Y L E

15. the subtle art of repugnance

❝I THINK I HATE YOU..." Thalia's hands are clenching the steering wheel so hard, I think they may be turning white. There's a rabid look in her eyes, and I'm pretty sure if we don't sort this out immediately, Hercules may not make it out alive.

When I awoke this morning, Persephone had set me up with toiletries, and a nice little backpack to take with me on our quest. I don't know how, but she already knew I'd said yes to joining in.

Hades bestowed upon Apollo a few complicated gizmos to help us with the quest, stuffed into my flower-pattern backpack.

Inside, there was a map, five hundred US dollars, two handfuls of danakes, a beaded bracelet for me, your typical run-up-the-mill bow and arrow for Apollo and a bronze dagger with a wooden handle. There are ancient greek carvings on the handle that I can't read but surprisingly, Hades told me that this is mine.

We're all packed inside Thalia's car now, following the map that would somehow lead us to where the gate to the other realm is. The paper is dirty and warn out and it looks ancient, like it's been buried underground for aeons.

Unfortunately, the map is in greek, so the only two people who can read it are Apollo and Hercules... but it seems Hercules is really bad at giving directions.

"You need to turn right!" His voice echoes through the entire small car as he scolds Thalia for not heeding his instructions.

Apollo and I are both seated in the backseat, just bearing it as they bark at each other with the greatest animosity.

"There is no right turn! You're reading it wrong, you twat! Just give it to Apollo." Thalia counters, dragging the steering wheel along like a crazy person.

Hercules' face is turning red as he glares daggers at Thalia. I never pegged him as somebody who lets anything get to him, but somehow Thalia seems to be really making his skin crawl as he curses in ancient greek, turning the map around so that he's looking at it properly.

"Make a left." He mutters under his breath, pouting like a school child with his hands crossed over his chest.

Thalia has a knowing smirk on her lips as she makes the turn. In the year I've known Thalia, I've learned that if you ever get into an argument with her, there's a very little chance you'll win, as she's stubborn and will never admit it even if she's wrong, even worse when she's right.

Apollo is sat brooding in his own little corner of the backseat, he's wearing a large hoodie given to him by Hades himself, and on it the words, 'I met the king of the Underworld!', are sprawled in comics sans. Apparently he's the owner of a rather clandestine gift shop franchise.

He has the hood drawn over his head, and the drawstrings are tightened so that you can barely see his face. The only thing out of place is the mop of untamed hair sticking out through the front, shielding his face.

Somebody's in a mood.

"Halfwit." Thalia murmurs under her breath as Hercules continues to try and piece the ancient map together in the passenger seat.