Okay, I know I promised it for the 1st. I lied. Have fun.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I've done this before."
Quinn sighed. "Alright. I'm just saying, my way wouldn't need all this flair."
Nico glared at him. "Just do your job." He turned back to the grave. Which Quinn thought was stupid, considering where they were.
He sighed. How did he let an eleven year-old give him orders? Though it wasn't really like he had a choice.
Quinn stared up at the black ceiling. They were in the underworld. Here, Nico was basically a celebrity. He could sail across the River Styx all he wanted without a coin, he could waltz past Cerberus without even a hint of a growl, hell, he could even walk straight into Hades' palace.
Which he did, several times. Quinn had no idea what they talked about. He was never invited. His goodwill ran out the second spring came around. Hecate's son only held weight when Persephone resided in the underworld, apparently.
And that's why he was here on the banks of the River Styx, "guarding" Nico while he was trying to summon the soul of his dead sister.
Quinn was worried. Nico's obsession was changing him. Only a few months ago he was an energetic kid who'd happily babble on all day about how the Nymph cards in Mythomagic were really underrated. Now he was quiet, sullen, only speaking up to lash out at those around him. Maybe it was the underworld. It couldn't have been healthy to spend too much time here. Nico looked like a ghost.
Though speaking of ghosts...
He was at Nico's side, as always. When he met Quinn's eyes, the king gave him a smug smile.
King Minos, of Crete. A son of Zeus, as he liked to brag. Once a judge for incoming souls, now eternally at Nico's side. Quinn wasn't sure of the arrangements, but he'd bet his scythe that Hades had something to do with it.
But he had a job to do, with the mentioned scythe.
Quinn swung it at the spirits gathering, scattering them. They always showed up when the ritual started, trying to snatch away the offerings. Fortunately they were easily scared off.
Whatever Quinn's scythe was made out of, it absolutely terrified the spirits, even more than Nico's sword. Just the sight of it was enough to keep most of them away.
He could hear Nico's chanting. They had done this exactly eighty-nine times, and every time it failed. For whatever reason, Bianca di Angelo did'nt or couldn't talk to her little brother.
Not that he would listen to reason. And it was best not to piss off the son of Hades.
The ritual failed. As always. A lot of things stayed the same in the underworld.
Quinn walked over, glancing down at the offering. "Some sort of pasta dish?"
Nico nodded. "Bianca's favourite. I though she might like this more..i think it almost worked this time."
"Nico. At a certain point you're going to have to accept-"
Minos coughed loudly. He was just a ghost, so he was just doing that from dramatic effect. It made Quinn hate him even more. "I hardly think you're qualified to judge such matters. You may have a scythe forged out of the Aether, but its a glorified farming tool-"
Quinn snapped his fingers and the ghost king disappeared. As he had found out in the past few months, Hecate was the goddess of ghosts and necromancy, as well as magic. Minos really should've learned when to shut up around him.
That last little bit was curious, though. Aether? If he had his primordials right (and he always did), that was the embodiment of the upper air of the heavens and light. He could see how it'd scare off the dead. Another thing to ask Hecate about. If he ever met her.
"As I was saying. Nico, maybe she chose to be reborn. You can't summon a soul that's had her memories wiped, right?" Even before he had finished, Nico was already shaking his head.
"No. No, she wouldn't do that. I just need to do it the right way..." He went flipping through the pages of the book again. Quinn could see Minos' form slowly reforming. He wasn't going to be able to convince Nico with that devil on his shoulder.
"Whatever." Quinn walked off, swing his scythe through one of the spirits that had been edging closer through the conversation. It exploded with a screech that seemed to hang in the air.
It was the underworld, he was sure of it. Nobody talked about negative affects of the place. Most heroes were in there for only a few hours or so, not wandering around aimlessly for months.
Quinn should've left a long time ago. What was keeping him here? Some promise he had made to Bianca? This place was going to end up killing him.
He had wandered over to the river, and it was seeping away at his shoes. Quinn jumped back. His scythe ma have been indestructible (Cerberus got tooth chips chewing on the wooden handle), but he wasn't.
The River Styx. An acidic river separating the dead and the living, littered with the possessions of the former. Quinn crouched down, watching the diplomas and wedding rings and little baby shoes float on by. He wondered...
"They all come to me in the end, you know."
Quinn almost fell face first into the river.
There was a girl casually resting in the Styx, as if it wasn't literally made out of acid and broken dreams. She was resting her head on hand by the riverbank, curiously watching Quinn.
She had dark black hair, a dark black dress, even dark black eyeliner. She sort of looked like Death of the Endless from The Sandman, only with waist-long hair that blended into the river. It was hard to tell where her hair ended, and where the Styx began.
The Styx...
He took a look at the river. "Styx, I'm guessing."
The river spirit smiled. "In the flesh. In more ways than one."
Quinn glanced back at the summoning. They didn't seem to be missing him. Minos and Nico were arguing about something, but that was hardly new.
Styx dissolved into the water. At the same time a wave splashed onto the banks next to him, with her reappearing there in a sitting position.
"Huh. Cool trick."
"Thank you." Styx leaned back on her palms. She remained silent, just gazing at the spirits wandering around the other shore. Those who couldn't afford safe passage, because most of the world thought the underworld was a myth.
As the minutes crawled by, Quinn just sat there. He figured it was some sort of test. Gods were big on that. Or was she just a nymph? The myths were never really clear on that.
Styx glanced at him, faintly smiling. Either she could read his mind, or she just found it funny to make him wait.
"Have you ever heard of Aetius? He was a king of some city-state in Greece. Megara, I believe."
Megara? Didn't ring a bell. The myths always focused on Sparta and Athens. They were basically the Los Angeles' of three millennia ago. "Never heard of him. Was he a demigod or something? Son of Zeus?"
She laughed. Coincidentally, the ferry crossing at the same time seemed to be rocking violently. Not that he really cared. Charon always badgered him over the coin. That usually ended when Quinn threatened to kick him into the Styx.
"Surprisingly not. He was entirely mortal. Perhaps that was why he was so afraid." Styx gestured behind them, at the landscape in the distance pitted with stunted little trees. "He was one of the only mortals I ever knew to escape from the Fields of Asphodel."
Quinn raised an eyebrow. That was actually fairly impressive. Percy, Grover, and Annabeth needed help to do that, Orpheus had his music, and Hercules..well, he was Hercules. "What happened to him?
"Oh, this was last week. He had quite the shock when he returned to Greece. Aetius realized there was nothing left for him in the world above, and so he returned to the underworld."
He waited. Styx said nothing more.
Quinn looked back at Nico, stubbornly trying the ritual for the millionth time, and something clicked for him.
He turned back to her. "Is this supposed to be a metaphor for me or something?"
"Why would it? Aetius was worlds apart from you. He was a ghost, just a shade of the living who the living had forgotten. He belonged here," Styx seemed to verbally shrug. She sounded totally innocent and not at all at the same time.
"It's not that simple, you know. Respectfully." he added as an afterthought. She was still one of the more powerful beings down here, god or nymph. "Kinda made a promise to his olde sister Bianca that I'd keep an eye on him."
"So what you're saying is that's the only thing keeping you here. No curses, no quests, not even something sworn on Me."
"How would you know?" Right, she literally was the Styx. It felt a bit strange to connect the river to the cute goth girl sitting beside him. Quinn looked away. "Of course. Yeah, it's kinda stupid when you think about it."
Styx tilted her head. "Actually, I thought it was rather admirable."
Quinn frowned. "Really? "
"Of course. Not many know this, but I am keenly aware of all the oaths sworn by Me. I know who swore them, what they swore and what happens if they do break it. You'd be surprised how few go unbroken. Zeus alone..." She looked towards the stony ceiling, as if she could could see straight to Olympus. "Well suffice to say, some don't hold it in very high regard."
But you, on the other hand," Styx said as she faced back towards him, "Have absolutely kept your word, even following it pat the gates of Erebos. And you did not even swear it on my river. You've displayed honour beyond most gods. Which is why I thought you deserved a reward."
She reached her hand into the river, plucking out what looked like a piece of paper. The moment it was lifted out of the waters, it instantly looked brand new. "Here you go."
It wasnt a piece of paper, like he thought it. It looked like the back of a photo, actually. Quinn frowned, flipping it around-
No. He felt like the air had been sucked out his lungs.
It was a photo of him and Alex. As new as the day it was taken.
Quinn remembered it perfectly. They had stopped by some stupid theatre that had The Phantom of the Opera, so obviously Alex insisted on seeing it. His stupid ace was laughing, an arm around Quinn as he was trying to get him to smile and failing miserably.
Looking back on it now, it was one of the few good days he could remember. No monsters, no police. Just Alex.
"He went peacefully, if that brings you any comfort. Alexander seemed very fond of you. Only their most cherished possessions end up in my waters." Styx ssaid.
"Right. And it ended up killing him. If he never met me, he'd still be alive." Quinn wanted to throw the photo back in the river. But that would only piss off the goddess.
Styx frowned. "Well I- oh. You dont know?"
Quinn snapped to attention. "Know what?"
She paused, as if she wasn't sure if she should tell him. Styx looked back towards her river, watching Charon paddling back to the far shores. "Never mind. Ask your mother."
"But- Styx glanced at him .It was only a moment, but it reminded him that she was a goddess, not a therapist. "Alright. Sorry. I don't suppose you know where he ended up?"
"Once they cross my waters, they are of no concern to me. Most end up in the Fields." Styx rose to her feet, dusting off her dress. "Perhaps you should ask your friend Nico."
Right, ask the demigod from the 1940s about finding his dead boyfriend. That would go perfectly. Still, he kept his mouth shut on it. "Alright. Thanks for everything, I guess."
"Oh don't thank me yet. I may not be able to see your particular strand of fate, but things are moving quickly in the world above. It might be safer for you to just stay here permanently." Styx waded into the river, totally unconcerned about the acid. "Until we meet again. Try to make it an interesting life, would you?"
And before Quinn could say another word, the goddess dissolved back into the water.
"Huh." What did Styx say, something about not being able to tell what his fate was? Gods tended to be cryptic, but Styx seemed surprisingly honest during their conversation. Which only made everything all the more confusing. Or maybe it didn't.
Whatever. Quinn walked back over to Nico, who seemed to be trying the ritual again. Nobody could say he lacked determination.
"Again, seriously?" Same pasta dish as before, interestingly enough. "Don't think you might want to take a break? When's the last time you ate something?"
Nico had a confused scowl on his face. Though really he was always scowling, so it was basically him looking a bit confused. "What? I just started. You just dismissed Minos a second ago."
"Which hurt, by the way," the ghost king added in.
"Oh, shut up already." But wait, it was only a few seconds? Quinn never had the best track of time, but he was pretty sure it had been longer than that.
Or maybe it was Styx. It was the underworld, after all. Like most things in the land of the dead, time was weird. Quinn liked to compare it to being stuck in the longest class of all time, with no clock or window to see how many minutes were left.
Nico had stopped paying attention, concentrating on the ritual. He could tell by all the ghosts swarming around. Quinn planted his scythe in the ground, keeping away the ghosts with its brightness. Their numbers grew as time passed by, but not one of them dared to go near the scythe.
Quinn could tell when it was finished. He could see almost taste the magic bubbling around the grave. And in a place like the underworld, it was in short supply.
The underworld was actually surprisingly bare of magic. Ghosts weren't actually magic, they were natural. One of the most natural things around. And nobody needed the mist to hide things when everyone was dead. It was almost poetic. Alex would've loved it.
He crossed his arms. "Let me guess. It didn't work."
Nico just walked away. He did that a lot. The little ghost king would throw a tantrum, kick around some spectres, and maybe get a breath of fresh air in the overworld. Then the whole cycle would repeat again.
Quinn and Minos were just left staring at each other. Minos opened his mouth, probably to say a smug comment.
"You know, this-"
He raised his hand again, fingers ready to snap. "Go."
The king wisely did. Quinn was bluffing, of course. It was just a flashy trick that costed a lot more power than it looked. And he had a more limited supply than most. Magic didn't really mix well with other godly bloodlines, according to Minos. Except for Helios. He was related to any witch that did anything.
Quinn sighed. He'd have to go after Nico again, if he wanted to survive. Then they would try the ritual again. And then they'd repeat the same stupid cycle over and over and over.
How long was it going to take?
Not very long, he thought looking back.
Only a little bit after that, they were fighting. Again. Maybe it was his conversation with Styx, maybe Quinn was just sick of the underworld. Whatever it was, it got ugly. And then he was very politely told that he was no longer welcome in the underworld.
Not like he could argue with Nico. Down there, the little ghost king made the rules.
Which was why Quinn was here, training. Or that's what she said she was doing for him. Really, she was just kicking his ass all over the room.
Like now. In just the blink of an eye, she had flipped him on his back. Quinn almost thought he teleported.
"That was...pathetic." She helped him to his feet.
Quinn took off his blindfold, turning around to face Li, his "attacker". Five foot seven, short black hair, and probably wrestled tigers for fun. She was training him. Or rather, she was beating him to a pulp while he tried to make contact.
Li continued, untying her own blindfold. "I can only pull my punches so much. You were distracted again, weren't you?"
"Or maybe I have a concussion from all the other sessions. Seriously, who trained you? Lady Shiva?"
Li shook her head. "Doesn't matter. You're lucky you're training here. If it wasn't for your mother, Circe would've had you drop dead the instant you set foot here."
Circe. After Nico decided to get rid of him (he wasn't in a position to disagree), he ended up on her new island resort. After a long series of events that, with any luck, his concussion would erase from his memory.
Your mother. So they weren't siblings. Aside from her name, that was the first thing he knew about her.
Quinn snapped his fingers, and the back pain was gone. "Right. Wouldn't want to be a guinea pig, or whatever she's on now."
"Pygmy hogs, actually."
He sighed, leaning against the wall of the training room. It hadn't even been a year since he ran away from California. And now Quinn was on an island resort of hostile female sorceresses, led by his psychotic half-sister. Who would happily turn him into a pygmy hog, if it wasn't for their mother. Who was a goddess. "Of course."
"Yup." She took off her hand wraps, tossing them on top of a punching bag. "Take a breather, we're back on in five minutes."
"I hate you."
"I literally couldn't care less." Li strolled off in the direction of the showers, not even breathing remotely hard.
Screw that. Quinn got up, wincing as the movement made the pain flare back up. Yeah, he wasn't doing that again. Over a solid month of "training", and he hadn't even got in a single solid hit on her. She made Percy look like a toddler.
Percy. That was a sore subject around here. Apparently, him and Annabeth destroyed Circe's previous resort in the Sea of Monsters. He wasn't really sure of the details, but it involved milkshakes and Blackbeard.
Quinn passed by a group of sorceresses-in-training in the hallway. Some of them were his half-siblings, some of them other types of demigods, and even a few mortals among them. Circe didn't discriminate. The one thing they all had in common was they hated his guts.
He found what he was looking for. The stairs leading to the roof. He took them two at a time, pushing open the hatch.
Quinn took a deep breath. As much as it sucked around here, he had to admit the view was pretty amazing.
They were on a little island off the coast of Italy, right near the heel. Apparently it was Circe's old island, back in the days of "Gods and Heroes", as she put it. She even had a mansion, which somehow had stayed in perfect condition for millennia.
Right. She was a goddess. Most of the time, she felt like an immortal alcoholic 'wine-mom' that could use magic. It was hard to compare her to someone like Artemis, or even Zeus, as much of an asshole as he was.
He laid down near one of the chimneys, staring at the sky. Circe had put some sort of spell around her mansion, which took away all the light pollution. So Quinn was on the roof off a mansion within spitting distance of Italy, staring up at amazing constellations on a cool summer's night.
Gods, he hated it.
"Well, training sucked, but what else is new?" Quinn took out a flask he stole from the kitchen, taking a sip of mead. He stopped caring about underage drinking somewhere around the time his boyfriend was killed by a monster. It tasted horrible. Screwing the cap back on, he went on with his rant.
"Li is...interesting. Definitely not one of my half-sisters, she actually tolerates me. Though she does seem to enjoy beating the crap out of me." He laughed. "Bet you wouldn't be complaining."
Zoe Nightshade didn't respond. She was a constellation after all. And dead.
Quinn wasn't sure why he did this, sneaking up at night just to talk to someone who died with a healthy dislike of him. Maybe it was his form of therapy. He could definitely use it.
"Anyways, went to Italy the other day. Little town called Otranto. Circe sent me to pick up some stuff up. Did you know they sold pegasi on Amazon? Well, they do. I got to spend a little time there, so that was nice. Actually kind of beautiful. Alex would've loved always wanted to visit Rome. After Paris obviously. He's obsessed with that opera house."
Not for the first time, he wondered where Zoe went when she died. Someone like her would definitely end up in Elysium, but if they were a Hesperide, who didn't have their life force tied to trees or rivers or anything?
"Well wherever you are, hope its somewhere with mead. Or maybe you're one of those people who think its a sin, wouldn't surprise me. Some of you hunters are probably old enough for that whole booze-banning thing."
"You're of course, referring to the Prohibition moment of the United States, in the twenties?"
A few months ago, Quinn would've fallen off the roof. Now, he didn't even blink an eye. It was an island of sorceresses. Women appearing out of thin air was something that got old quickly.
Like now. The woman was leaning against the side of the chimney, in a black chiton that somehow looked darker than the sky. Most likely one of Circe's pupils. She looked familiar, though she wasn't looking him with that mix of disgust and anger that everyone had perfected.
Quinn quickly hid the flask. "Yes, exactly. Now fuck off, you're ruining the atmosphere."
Strangely enough, she didn't even try to turn him into a newt for that. The woman just laughed, like Quinn was a kid who said something cute. "Now what would your parents think of your rudeness? Did Artemis teach you any manners?"
That got his attention. He hadn't actually told anyone about his other parent. Of course, his eyes were a pretty huge sign. Over the past few months, they had been slowly changing from gray to silver, like his mother's.
"No, she ditched me in San Francisco for sixteen years. And fuck off, I'm not interested in getting into a bitch fight with-" Quinn paused. Something felt off with this woman. Something about the way she carried herself...
He turned, looking at the woman more closely. Quinn realized why she looked familiar: she looked just like Circe. Same green eyes, same blond hair, same aura of power that made the hair on his arms stand u when she drew near.
She wasn't exactly like Circe. Circe liked to look like she was still in her late twenties. This woman was definitely older. She had maybe fifteen, twenty years on his half-sibling.
Half-sibling.
Quinn froze as he realized just who he was talking to. "Hecate."
His mother smiled. "Hello Quintus. It's so nice to see you again."