This one-shot series doesn't have any particular order. I will tell you when it takes place and which book it could spoil at the start of each chapter. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

This took a month to write.

(Takes place after the events of The Burning Maze)

SPOILERS FOR THE BURNING MAZE AHEAD!

"Ugh, we're never gonna find this place!" I exclaimed, letting out a dramatic sigh.

Meg and I had taken Piper's plane north to seek out Camp Jupiter, the training grounds of roman demigods. The flight had gone smoothly enough, save my brief panic attack when we flew through a storm. (Can you really blame me? I had done a lot of things over the past few months that could potentially make my father mad. Excuse my wise willingness to not get burnt to a crisp.) Unfortunately, farewells to our greek demigod companions had been brief, since everyone was still caught up in the grief of Jason Grace's untimely death. This lead to Meg and I being quite clueless as to the exact whereabouts of the roman camp. I had expected my godly instincts to kick in and tell us where to go, but as always, they only came when others were in danger. I found that most annoying. We couldn't simply ask some random person on the street for directions as the camp was shielded from mortal eyes, keeping itself completely unknown to humans who had had no run-ins with gods. Which, I might add, is a frustrating majority.

We now found ourselves tramping through a dense forest on a steep upward slope, the heat of the sun beating down on our backs as we trotted onwards. I had been so sure that this was the right way to go, that I had bet my last packet of skittles on it. (They were a gift from Piper's father, Tristan McLean, who had snuck Meg and me a few packets out of pity. I had gladly taken them, but I now had a feeling that our slight detour was going to cost me. Meg McCaffrey does not share.)

I angrily slapped another tree branch out of my way, only for it to snap back and smack me in the face, earning a few snickers from my demigod master, who came up from behind me and elbowed me in the ribs.

"We're lost." Meg stated plainly. While her short summary had been more than obvious, I refused to admit it.

"Of course not," I scoffed. "We're close! We'll be able to see the camp from higher ground. We'll get our bearings and work from there." Meg seemed to see straight through my lie. She uttered an unconvinced "Uh-huh". I took a deep breath to regain my composure, and marched on.

When we finally reached the peak, we were completely exhausted. I promptly plopped down a large outcrop of rock, gasping to catch my breath. Meg followed my example (as everyone should do) and went the extra mile of lying flat on the grass, staring up at the clear sky. The top of the hill was quite a wide and level space, and the trees made a ring around the hillside about 10 meters down from the summit, meaning there was no shelter from the sweltering sun.

After several minutes of huffing and puffing, I started to notice mine and Meg's breath even out. Then, Meg sighed deeply. "We're lost, aren't we?"

"No."

"You're the god of truth. That means you're an awful lair." I groaned. Sadly, there was a lot of truth in that statement. "So. Are we lost?" Meg repeated.

"Hopelessly." I answered.

"Thought so." She raised her arm from where she was lying on the ground and made a 'gimme' gesture with her hand. "Skittles." She explained bluntly. I tossed the packet over to her, aiming to land them on her stomach, but I overshot and they landed on her face, which I was more than satisfied with. Within seconds she had emptied the bag into her mouth and was chewing furiously.

I held my face in my hands, leaning down on my knees and staring at the patterns of pebbles and soil on the earthen ground, trying to tune out the aggressive chomping and focus my thoughts on our next move. My attempts were unsuccessful. Instead, I imagined the steady beat of the crunch as a drum, and began to compose a piece of music in my head. It felt good to do something so simple, so familiar, that if I closed my eyes, I could still imagine I was sitting on the high balcony of my room on Olympus, singing my never-ending hours away.

Unslinging my ukulele, I began to noodle the beginnings of a fast-paced ditty. I had just gotten the swing of my new little jingle, my head bopping, my feet tapping, when the crunching stopped abruptly. I glanced up at where Meg was lying, and saw that she had sat up straight and tensed considerably, her hands pressed firmly against the soil as if she was ready to get up and bolt. Her eyes stared directly upwards. I was about to ask what was wrong when she called urgently, "Apollo." I only had enough time to shoot her a quizzical look when she continued, "Look." Typical Meg McCaffrey bluntness. I tried to follow her gaze, but all I saw in the sky was the sun. Then it occurred to me that there was something different about they sky. While still squinting up, I called over to Meg, "Is it just me, or is the sun getting bigger?"

I became uncomfortably aware of the rapidly increasing heat and brightness. I chanced another peek at the falling star, shielding my eyes with my arms. It looked lot closer that it had mere seconds ago.

Meg, who had long since gotten up, tugged desperately on my arm. "C'mon!" she yelled. "We need to go!" I had no clue where on earth we could run to, after all, if the sun hit the ground at a high enough temperature, it could easily level San Fransisco. But our options were extremely limited. So we ran.

We sped right back the way we came, both tripping and panicking. (Meg will tell you that I was the only one tripping. She is lying.) I kept taking risky glances back up at the blistering hot sun, which was now blocking a good deal more of the sky, until Meg screamed "STOP LOOKING! JUST RUN!", which my body took as a direct command. Try as I might, I could no longer look anywhere but straight ahead.

We reached the forest. I had hoped that the trees could provide some sort of shelter, but alas, I could only feel the sunburns manifesting on my neck and back more acutely. We forged on, panting and frantically wiping sweat from our brows. My keen hearing picked up the hissing of starting fires. Leaves on the trees all around us smoked and curled inward. I examined Meg, who had skidded to a stop in a clearing a few feet ahead of me. She was perspiring as heavily as I was, her breath ragged, her eyes darting from place to place to find anywhere that might be a safe spot. I doubted such a place existed. But, there was not much else we could do. I too, scanned the area. But to no avail.

I once again looked down at my small friend and took in the hysteric panic flashing in her eyes. It was then that something within me clicked. A familiar strength swelled up inside me. As the sun connected with the ground, I flung myself at Meg, wrapping her in my arms and trying to cover as much of her body with my own as I could. I somehow knew that I would not be harmed. I reminded myself that I had jumped directly into the fires of the previous sun god Helios, and lived to tell the tale. And this time, I had a young life to protect. Meg clung tightly to my filthy Led-Zeppelin tee as a wave of blistering dry heat surged over us, the force almost knocking me out of my current crouched position. I clamped my eyes shut, but it did almost nothing to prevent the searing sensation that burned behind my eyelids. It felt as if all the oxygen in the world had been disintegrated by the roaring flames. The dust and ash swept forcefully around us, making me cough and splutter and try to gasp in oxygen that wasn't there.

Finally, it ended. For a long time we remained as we were, holding on to each other as if our lives depended on it. Everything was completely still. Slowly lifting my head, I blinked the dust out my eyes and squinted at my surroundings, waiting for the spots to fade from my vision. My clothes and hair were caked with ash and soot, colouring them with a thick layer of grey. My usually black Led-Zeppelin tee had been bleached a few shades by the light. A few new holes had been burned into the back of my jeans, which, much like the slashes they had gained from enemy weaponry, did not look intentional or stylish. But I otherwise seemed unharmed, as I assumed I would be. I quickly checked Meg over. I had been mostly successful in my attempt to shield her from the fire as she also looked to be in good health, but her clothes had suffered a similar fate to mine. Her green dress was burnt at the hem, her bright leggings slathered a dull grey with ash and dust. A pungent smell of burning rubber emanated from her red high-tops.

She had discarded her panicked expression and replaced it with one of her commanding glares. Knowing Meg McCaffrey, she could have been saying Who said you could hug me? or, more likely, This is probably your fault.

After making sure that we were both unharmed, I looked back towards the summit, where the sun had smashed into the earth. The damage was not nearly as extensive as it could have been, which surprised me, to say the least. However, destruction had still been dealt. The top of the hill had been batted down significantly, the peak now sitting a good ten metres below where it had previously rested. The forest around us had been burnt to cinders, a few fires still crackling on dismembered branches. Dark smoke curled in tendrils from a fifty foot crater left in the hill.

Without warning, Meg grabbed my wrist and started dragging me back towards the crater. Before I could splutter a protest, she declared "The sun fell. That means it was probably something to do with you." The march back up the hill was a lot shorter that the sprint down it, as the peak had been blown to smithereens and the hill had lost a few metres of rock. Too soon, we reached the edge of the hole and Meg gestured assertively down at it. "Fix it."

I gulped. Edging closer to the rim of the crater, I wondered which angry sun deity I would have to avoid being obliterated by. None of us sun gods or goddesses would be particularly perky seconds after crashing our pride and joy - whether it takes the form of a super cool sports car or a kingly barque- into the filthy earth. Dents and scratches do not pick up ladies, folks. I prayed it would not be Ra, who was the 'Zeus' of the Egyptian pantheon. Not that he was as cruel or hard-headed as my father, in fact quite the opposite as I remember. But he did hold as much or maybe more power than Zeus, and I did not want to be on the bad side of two divine kings.

Leaning cautiously over the side of the deep pit, I tried to deduce which pantheon this sun was from without putting too much of myself in the downed god's sight line (aka blast zone). But my eyes did not land on an Egyptian barque or a Norse chariot. Instead, I found myself glaring at a yellow school minibus with the numberplate 'AP0110' fixed on the back.

I felt every thought of caution and anxiousness vanish from my conscience as rage hotter than the sun's fires filled every crevasse of my pathetic mortal being. Someone was driving my car. Some little perp had just crashed my car. I was appalled. I must have looked it too, because Meg tugged on my t-shirt from where she was hiding behind me (ugh, I was supposed to be the one hiding behind her. How selfish.) and asked "Are they bad?" I wasn't sure whether that meant 'are they badly hurt' which meant she was sweetly concerned with their wellbeing, or 'are they a bad guy I can stab' which would be less sweet and more typical of my young master.

"That's…" I trailed off, struggling to spit the words out through my mortification. I pointed my finger down at the minibus, urging Meg to look down at it while I tried to force out words. Finally, I managed to stutter "That-that's mine! That's my car!" Meg didn't seem to share my shock. To my surprise, she snorted a laugh.

"You drive a minibus?" She said between giggles. "Are you telling me that the greek sun is a minibus?" I waved my hand at her dismissively.

"No, no. The minibus for transporting multiple passengers. I prefer Maserati Spyder mode, like any self-respecting sun deity should do." I hastily explained, still glaring daggers down at the vehicle.

Starting towards the smoking minibus, I decided I would give this twerp driver the benefit of the doubt, as they were likely immortal and a lot more powerful than me in my current state. I really was not in the mood for making more enemies than necessary. Unlike my old godly self, I could not go around carelessly insulting minor deities who could never dream of overpowering a major Olympian. I did, however, plan to give them a piece of my mind and a lesson in basic driving. Step 1: Don't crash the car!

I fearlessly marched down the steep drop, careful not to trip and lose any and all dignity I had in my Lester-y prison in front of this new wanna-be sun god. I told myself that I wasn't particularly worried. I had dealt with immortal wanna-be's before, two in my mortal state, and while I had hated both of them with a burning passion, they had been experienced evil emperors. I reminded myself that the person trying to drive my car was most likely a rookie that had been hurriedly pushed into the driver's seat in a sad attempt to replace moi. They'd probably love to hear some hard advice from the actual sun god.

At least, that would have been ideal. As soon as the driver managed to stumble his way out of the minibus, my confidence sank (a feeling I had grown far too used to). I stopped in my tracks as I felt my face darken and my guard shoot up. Something about the young man…was strikingly familiar. His lightning blue eyes glinted with mischief. The dark hair that framed his pinkish face grew curly and wild. He looked to be about my mortal age of sixteen, perhaps slightly younger, but his good looks were undeniable. His baby blue jacket hung loose over his wiry arms. His casual white t-shirt was half-tucked into his baggy jeans. He looked a bit like me - mortal me - but better. More attractive. No acne. Lester 2.0, if you will. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Had this man taken this form simply to spite me? If I had any idea who it was - and I had - it would be a very plausible motive.

He spread his arms welcomingly as if he were extremely pleased to meet me, which was exactly what I hoped for, except that his eyes hid a much more mischievous intent behind his actions. His smile looked like he was stifling laughter, making his mocking actions all the more obvious. "Brother!" He said joyfully. "I was hoping I would run into you!" I looked him up and down, my mind whizzing to pinpoint exactly who this stranger was, and if I was right about my hunch. He didn't give me time to finish my thought process (rude) before he exclaimed, "As you can see, the Olympians have entrusted me with the hottest ride in the heavens. I'd say I'm doing quite a bit better than you already!" He donned a thoughtful expression for a moment. "Maybe I should've gotten in on Caligula's sun-god soup thing, huh?" He muttered.

I swallowed the all-too-many awful memories surfacing at the sound of Caligula's name, and tried my best to look stony-faced. "Evidently," I gestured at the wreckage, "they trusted the wrong person." He waved his hand at me, dismissing my statement. I found that I didn't like being at the receiving end of a god's go-to 'dismissive hand wave'. I much preferred giving them out. It made me feel much less small, and a little more important.

"Oh please. I'm a great driver!" He leaned in close to me, like we were about to trade juicy secrets. "For the record, I've only crashed this baby once. I couldn't count the amount of times you've been downed on one hand." He straightened up. "Besides, you're good fun! I wanted to hang out for a few." A few months ago, I would have seen no fault in these actions. I mean really, why wouldn't you want to hang out with me? I was an amazing major Olympian god. I was a master musician, an emotion-jerking poet and a smooth ladies man who drove a hot-red convertible Maserati Spyder. I was well worth the attention! But now, I knew this to be too good to be true. Ever since the incident at Macro's Military Madness in South California, I'd forced myself to come to terms with the fact that if people wanted to meet me, they usually wanted me dead. Besides, I could hardly remember my own twin's face. There was always the chance that he wasn't who I thought I was, and I didn't want to risk greeting a dangerous enemy as an old friend.

Sharply reminding myself of this, I fixed a tight smile on my face. If the Olympians trusted this man with a source of light and warmth that every one of their worshippers depended on to survive, then any screw-up of his was on their watch. It was none of my business. I started to cautiously edge back from the boy.

"Well, I'd love to stay and chat with a fan-" the boy was obviously trying not to crack up, not helping my unease, "-but I'm afraid we must be getting on. I'm sure you've heard about my, ah, current predicament. I'd like my sun chariot back as soon as possible. And in one piece if you don't mind." I turned my back to him, trying to convince myself that I'd gotten out of immediate trouble.

Meg ruined it. You can blame her. As soon as I turned away from the man, I came face-to-face with Meg, who had snuck up behind me while I wasn't paying attention. She looked past me and asked the man "Are you two related?" Typical. She avoids any and all conversation, except for when she knows it's going to annoy me. I mean, come on. She knew darn well that I was related to almost everyone. On my dad's side, anyway.

The boy stayed silent and looked at me expectantly, a stupid grin plastered on his stupid perfect face. I took a risk and went with my gut.

"Yes, Meg. This is my half-brother," - I paused and glanced at him, his eye's mischievous glint convincing me that I must be correct - "Hermes, the god of travel."

"Bravo, big bro! Took ya a minute there, didn't it?" I went for a smile, but I was hard. I didn't know quite what to think. On one hand, I was overjoyed. My friend was here. My family was here. You may think I still despised Hermes from that time he stole fifty of my sacred cattle. Honestly. That was thousands of years ago! Besides, I'd gotten my precious lyre out of it, hadn't I? I'd also given Hermes some of his signature items (flying sandals, his adamantine and gold sword, his freakin' caduceus) so I considered myself a contribution to his success. Of course, some of his favourite hobbies weren't exactly commendable, but his presence was always excitingly unpredictable. When you hung out with Hermes, you could find yourself attempting to add tabasco sauce into Ares' protein shakes or see who could stack more objects on a sleeping Hypnos without waking him up. A night out with Hermes usually ended with a action movie worthy chase scene.

On the other hand, it was Hermes. A friend, yes, but not who I was looking for. I must have shown my disappointment.

"Ah, don't sweat it, dude. Artemis is looking out for you. Father saw the risky stunt her hunters pulled in Indianapolis. She charmed herself out of any real punishment, but father has a real close eye on her."

"So did you come here to laugh or what?" I asked.

"What?" He feigned shock, before his lips gave way to another impish grin. "Well, yeah. But not primarily. That's just a bonus," he winked.

"Thanks," I grumbled. "But we really must be going. I don't want to get blamed for anything else." I began to usher Meg back up the slope. "You see, we got lost on the way to Camp Jupiter, and-"

"Oh! I know where Camp Jupiter is! Why don't you hop on and I'll drive you!" Stuck for options and really not wanting to be in my father's domain with a god that I definitely shouldn't be talking to, I decided to play the dirtiest card I had.

"Well obviously we would, but, ah, father may consider that against the rules. Other gods aren't allowed to help. They'd most likely get the same sentence as me! Mortal and stuffed in a meat-sack body with no powers."

"With acne," Meg added.

I nodded. "With acne."

His smile faltered. Some might say Hermes has no sense of consequence or self-preservation, but I knew that was not true. Hermes was smart. No god with half a braincell wanted to cross Zeus. He was known across the pantheons for being ruthless. You didn't get a special pass if you were his kid. He wasn't afraid to dish out punishments by the dozen, or chew someone out just for the sake of placing the blame (me). But despite common sense, Hermes regained his wide smile and shrugged, completely eliminating my dirty card. "Nah. He's too busy dealing with all the prayers being sent to you right now. Something about a dumb copyright law in Europe. The teens are raging." He winked at me. "Besides, I got my own ways of getting out of punishment. I'm quite a good talker."

He placed one hand under the sun bus and flipped it right side up with absolutely zero effort. Meg looked unimpressed. I like her sometimes. Hermes whisked a whistle out of thin air and blew a long, shrill note.

"All aboard the Hermes Express!" He called.

"We are not calling it that." I mumbled as I waited for Meg to skip up onto the minibus. As I approached the doors, Hermes held out his arm and blocked me.

"That'll be ten drachma, sir."

"You've got to be kidding."

"Sorry sir, them's the rules."

"You didn't stop her!" I complained, gesturing to Meg who stood giggling at the top of the steps.

"She's a minor. Under fifteens go free." Breathing some ancient greek curses, I reached into my back pocket and handed my brother ten gold coins. Then I bolted up the steps before he could lay down any extra charges.

But upon rounding the corner and facing the rows of two-seaters, I was confronted with the most horrific sight I'd ever seen. My car was akin to a pigsty. Piles of pizza boxes and duffle bags crammed with various boxes littered the back. Every seat was plastered with something as revolting as glue and monster goop mixed with Hephaestus' sweat. Silly string of every colour dripped from the roof and decorated the backs of the seats like a band of tweens had started a riot. Even from the front of the minibus, I could see the wads of gum stuck on the seatbelts and underneath benches. Pizza dripped from the windows. Half eaten grilled cheeses stuck out from beneath the leather bench pads. I walked stiffly down the aisle. My hand gripped a seat, only for it to stick like a wasp in jam. I peeled it off, gazing in utter disgust at the odd pink substance that connected my fingers to the leather.

"What did you do to my car?" I asked, my attempts to contain my pure rage hidden poorly by my slow, deliberate words.

"I fixed it obviously," Hermes had the nerve to answer cheerfully. "I made it more homey."

"Is that why it's a minibus?" Meg asked, looking approvingly around at the mess.

"Yup! It's too much hassle to cram all this awesome stuff into a Spyder. Kept falling out. I hit an old lady with a whole pepperoni pizza though!" he laughed as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard himself say. He wiped a tear from his eye. "Ah, good times." As much as the thought amused me, I would not give Hermes the satisfaction of my wonderful smile. I managed to hide my amusement with an eye roll.

"Wouldn't a school bus fit more stuff?"

"Don't encourage him, Meg."

"You," Hermes pointed at Meg, his rascal grin stretched across his face. "I like how you think." Meg giggled at the compliment. I figured Hermes was going to be an even worse influence than Leo Valdez had been. I didn't relish the idea of them spending too much time together.

"Can we get going? I don't want to see my car in this state for any longer than I have to." I paused, wringing my hands. "And… we have a duty. To inform the romans of what happened to their friend." Hermes' face fell.

"Oh, yeah. The Grace boy. Dad's not too happy about that one." The very thought of my father's wrath shook me to the core. But there was no denying that I had had a hand in the death of his favourite demigod son. I just hoped he wouldn't take his anger out on a son of my own. I would have no way of stopping him. I would have much preferred to steer clear of him altogether, but here we were, about to fly directly into his domain. Yay! Meg must have sensed the thick air of discomfort, and quickly put us back on track.

"Can we go now?"

Hermes perked up again. "Sure, kiddo! Oh, and don't bother to buckle up. Riding the sun is much more fun when you're floating around in zero gravity!" Meg gave me an eager smile, and her rhinestones glowed excitedly. I decided I didn't like that. She didn't know my brother like I did. He would have gotten a good kick out of a twelve year old breaking her neck. When we sat down, I made sure to double check that her seatbelt was fastened. With an agitated demigod glaring holes into my back, I turned to my own seatbelt. Hermes decided that was the perfect time to take off.

We rattled off the ground at full speed, Meg and I pressed flat against our seats. The wind was knocked out of me. My ribs felt like a herd of elephants had just tromped on them. Though I could not turn my head, I saw from the corner of my eye that Meg was not doing much better than me. All enthusiasm that had danced in her eyes mere seconds ago had been replaced with terror. Her face had turned the same shade of green as her famous dress. She sat awkwardly stiff, as if she had been flattened against a car windshield. I imagined I looked the same. From the front of the bus I heard a muttered "Whoops". There was some button clicking, and the lights along the roof flickered on. This did not help our predicament.

My head was spitting with pain. I felt the air thin. The world outside got darker as we approached the exosphere. I tried to yell 'SLAM THE BREAKS, YOU IMBECILE!', but all I could force out was "sla-*gaSP*-m the *gaSP* br-*gaSP*", which wasn't much of a motivator.

"Don't panic guys!" Hermes called. "I've got it all under control!" I wasn't even sure if that was a blatant lie or not. It was more than possible that he was driving terribly just to mess with us. I heard a few more button clicks, and the lights flickered off again. So did the engine. For a few fleeting moments, we paused. The entire world slowed to a crawl. My curly hair defied gravity and floated upwards. Hanging midair, I could almost feel what it was to fly again. Then we resumed.

The minibus tilted sickeningly. Then we dropped. My stomach however, stayed stubbornly where it was, 300, 400, 500 feet above us. My body must have been desperate to rejoin it. You see, Meg had gotten her seatbelt on in time. I had not. I zoomed up, smacked my head on the roof, then lay there, being slowly crushed by the force. I looked directly down at Meg who seemed like she wanted to scream and puke at the same time. I couldn't relate more. I then looked up at the front, where an all-too-calm god exclaimed "Ohhh. I get it. It's this one." He jabbed a button with his index finger, and the engine spluttered on, sounding much too exhausted for my liking. We stopped, and I hit the floor with an audible thump.

I tried to catch my breath while lying face down on the sticky ground. I began to pull myself up. The engine revved, and I realised my mistake. I should've gone for a seatbelt immediately. Cursing at myself, I scrambled for a seat, knowing it was in vain. Of course, I was right. My pathetic body was flung to the back as the bus took of at speeds to rival my father's lightning. I was in too much shock to even feel the pain, though I was certain it would not be gone for long. For now, I would just have to cling onto the seats at the back for dear life, while trying not to scream, vomit or smash the speakers beside my head that were blasting 'Sweet Caroline' (another "My bad!" had sounded from the driver's seat). I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to summon another burst of godly power. I knew that it only came out when I felt the strong need to protect. Even then, it was temperamental. I focused on Meg and how scared she was, how scared I was. But nothing happened. The only thing welling up in me was my half-digested skittles.

"Camp Jupiter ho!" Yelled Hermes. I forced myself to look up through the windshield window. Indeed, below us lay the roman demigod camp, in all its intricate splendour. Which wouldn't be much if it was reduced to ashes. "Now, which one is the brake?"

"YOU'RE THE GOD OF TRAVEL!" I roared. "YOU KNOW WHERE THE BRAKE IS!" Hermes pretended not to hear me and continued to feign confusion, stroking his non-existent beard for added effect. Thankfully, a traffic-light coloured preteen (who had been seated a lot further from the back) had swallowed her nausea and was using all her strength to claw her way to the front. Her curved sword impaled the floor, making me flinch considerably (but I was not about to stop her) and she used the sticky wads of gum as footholds, as if she were scaling a horizontal climbing wall. Upon reaching her goal, Meg clung to Hermes' baby blue jacket and hollered back to me.

"WHICH ONE'S THE BRAKE?"

"PEDAL ON THE LEFT!" I yelled back. "UNDER THE WHEEL!" I was more than happy to see her kick my tricky brother in the kneecap, then shove him out of the way so she could get to the pedal. Hermes made no attempt to stop her, or to help. After all, he was immortal. What did he care if the bus crashed? He wouldn't get hurt. I found that reasoning disgusting, and awfully close to what I would have thought once, in a seemingly different life. The god of travel just stood there, holding onto a handle on the back of one of the seats, and keeping himself upright as casually as one might do on a train. Finally, Meg slammed her foot down on the pedal. I could feel the strain on the brakes, the engine trying desperately to slow down. It was a hard transition between halting and zooming forward at a million miles per hour. Despite her deity-kicking abilities, I could see that Meg was not strong enough. The force of the speed was pulling her back.

"HERMES! HELP HER!"

Hermes turned to me. "Sorry," he said in mock regret. "You were right about what you said earlier. I'm not allowed to assist."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

"Nope!" He said. "But here's an idea - how about you help her?"

Before I could shoot another retort (preferably with some ancient greek curses), I was standing up behind Meg. Biting back confusion and nausea, I clung to the rear-view mirror and pressed down Meg's foot which was on the brake with all my gangly sixteen-year-old might. With Lester's track record in brute strength, I figured she wouldn't get hurt. I looked up and saw the camp approaching alarmingly quickly. The bus was slowing, but not nearly fast enough. I estimated about thirty seconds before they all got fatally serious sunburns. I tried, once again, to summon my godly strength. I thought about the dozens of teenagers and civilians in the camp. I thought about their futures, and what they would one day accomplish. The visions flowed easily. I saw a young girl, a daughter of Mars, defeating armies of monsters in her father's name. I saw a teenage daughter of Venus become the minor deity of self-acceptance. I saw a son of Vulcan in his thirties, happily hammering at a tractor and stopping occasionally to gaze at his beautiful wife, a dark-haired daughter of Ceres.

Then I thought about my own demigod companion. She was so unpredictable, and so young, that she had no determined future. A beautiful stage of life. Though some could argue that you never truly leave that stage. I saw her grow up, and become one of the fiercest demigod warriors, surpassing even Percy Jackson. In a different timeline, I saw her accept eternal maidenhood in my sister's hunt. Yet another possibility arose. This time, she sat on a golden throne with a back shaped like a harp, emitting an aura of endless youth. Next to her, sat an eighteen-year-old boy with golden hair tied back in a man-bun. He had a bow slung on his back, and a celestial bronze ukulele in his hand. They talked and laughed as if they had known each other for centuries.

I have to admit, that last one brought tears to my eyes. With renewed strength, I floored the brake. The bus screeched to a halt, and we were thrown forward. We were on the ground, right outside the entrance tunnel, where two shocked guards stood. I laughed with sheer relief. Then I looked down at Meg, who didn't share my enthusiasm for safety. She sat on the floor, cradling her foot.

"You stood on me," she complained. "You used your godly power on my foot." I was too relieved to argue. I grinned as I helped her up and supported her as she limped towards the doors. But before we could leave, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Turning my head, I saw my little brother smiling at me.

"Good job, bro." He said. "I see you're not completely out of juice. We wanted to make sure you still had it in you. The next part of your quest will be harder than before." I shot him an uneasy glance.

"'We?'" Hermes shook his head.

"Some concerned well-wishers. Can't specify. Too dangerous."

"Right."

"Keep going, dude."

"See you later, then." I nodded. Hermes nodded back. We stepped outside, and the bus flashed, then was gone.

"You have a weird family," Meg grunted.

"Don't forget," I answered, "they're your family too."

We turned to the two demigod guards, who were still standing with their mouth agape. It was such a wonderful feeling to be gazed at in awe, that I let myself forget why we were here.

"Hello!" I said cheerfully. "I'm Apollo."