a.n: I have rebooted this story! Yay! Please review! Also, I have changed the name to Finding Home again. Sorry about that.
Finding Home
Prologue
Luke wrapped his unsteady fingers tightly around the knob of his door. It shook in his hands, something was coming up the stairs; she was coming up the stairs.
"Luke… no… not my son's fate…" her rasping voice echoed across the corridor, under the door and into his head. It drilled through his skull, his head hurt; and there were circles in front of his eyes, pulsing and blue. His hands shook, and he screwed up his forehead, maybe if he kept really quiet, but no, his mother had long since found where he hid.
There was a scratching noise on the other side of the door. Luke was crying. Flattening himself to the door, Luke tried to stifle his sobs. A part of him was furious with himself for crying but it was overruled by the rest of Luke that was shaking with terror.
"No… not Luke," he shivered and gripped the handle tighter, "Not my son… Hermes, his fate…" The rattling began, the knob almost vibrated out of his hands, but he held on grimly. The nine year olds eyes frantically scanned the room. There! He used one hand to locate the key, using his body weight to keep the door from being flung open. His bedroom key was shoved unceremoniously into the lock. He heard the click, let the key fall and shoved a chair underneath the handle.
Luke took a step backwards, studying his defences critically. He bent to pick up the key, when he gasped.
Two glowing green eyes were observing him from under the door. They peered at him, almost curiously and then:
"Luke," he flinched and grabbed some rope (because, he never knew when he might have to make a break for it) from his bed. He wrapped it around the handle and tied one end to his bed and the other to his window. Now there was no way for her to crack the handle even a centimetre.
Satisfied, he turned to his wardrobe, his sanctuary, and curled up inside. Drawing the blankets up over his head he popped in his MP3 and turned up the volume so loud that it made his head spin.
He sighed, the banging on his door resumed, but he relaxed in his safe-house, because he knew that she couldn't get to him when he was in here.
His eyes fluttered closed. Relishing in the darkness, Luke felt his fear fade. Then suddenly, there was a flash of electric blue, his music faded out, thinning into silence and the flash faded into a face.
Thin and pale, with a grin and a spray of freckles, her lips were chapped and raw. Her black hair was blown about her face, as if a strong gust of wind was constantly raging, it was greasy and cut short. She was smiling, in a freeze-frame. Like a picture, caught whilst she was in mid-laugh. Her eyes were electric blue.
She looked as though she was friendly enough, but Luke could sense the scent of danger that lurked around her. Like a wild animal.
Luke's brow creased in confusion, and she was gone. The music swam back into reality, the banging returned. Luke sighed, snuggling deeper into his mass of blankets.
The battering stopped and a desperate voice rang out, Luke knew what she would say and remained exactly where he was. Eventually he heard footsteps creaking away from his door and the muffled sounds of sobbing. He briefly felt guilty, but it soon was swept away.
Luke cautiously poked his head out of the cupboard and raked his gaze, along the width of the door. Deeming the danger zone safe – for now - he tiptoed towards the window. On the way, he glanced for a second at the picture of his father, Hermes – in the Greek God sense - and an old hand-drawn picture of a house with seven trees in a huge garden, a pond with fish and a family standing in front. A woman was smiling with blond hair and blue eyes, a man with a crooked grin, curly hair and wings on his sandals with one arm around both of the other members of the group. And there before them with a kinked grin on his face, gleaming blue eyes and up-turned nose, looking up at his parents was him, Luke.
His family the way it should have been, a mum, a dad and him. Maybe even a younger sibling, Luke would have loved a brother. He tore his gaze from the picture as his hands touched the window sill. The sky was painted blood red with pinkish clouds dotted across the horizon.
.
Thalia's hands shook, her foot throbbed and her head ached. But worse than that was the pain in her heart.
How could she; how could she? He was her son, and she had just given him away. He could be hurt, he could be dead!
A photograph was stood on her desk; Thalia stopped and stared at it for a long moment. Three people, she with her choppy black hair grinning with a gap tooth, Jason blue eyes filled with happiness and hands wrapped around her neck in a bear-hug and there, with her arms around both of them stood her mother, sober for once, smiling brightly at the camera. All three of them.
With a roar of frustration and anger the seven year old hurled the picture at the opposite wall with so much dynamism; it was surprising it didn't go through the wall. The frame smashed, the glass shattered and the picture tore. Thalia edged towards the ruins on the floor and abruptly stopped. Jason was alone, on a ripped edge of paper. Thalia and their mother were still together, arms around each other. But something was different, their expressions, Thalia's smile seemed slightly more forced and Mrs Grace had a marginally more pronounced frown. Thalia howled again.
Nothing seemed right without Jason.
No, nothing was ever right, but now it wasn't even bearable.
She took a deep breath, there was nothing here for her now, the monsters would follow her whatever, and life might even be easier on the run.
There was only one way to find out.
.
Luke shut his eyes tight, counting. One, two, three, four-
"Luke, darling, it's time for school!" Luke and hopped out of bed. She was lucid, which was only going to make this harder. Reaching for his back-pack he stroked the soft material like a cat.
It was a calming sensation, he realized, like patting a real cat, except it didn't purr or scratch. His pre-packed school bag was now filled with everything he would need, for a while anyway, his text books hidden under his bed between timeworn, hand-made father's day gifts.
He pulled on his jacket and shoved his feet into his sneakers. Holding onto his lifeline in both hands he descended from the upper floor of the house to the kitchen.
May Castellan was humming tunelessly along to the radio. She turned, beaming as her son entered the room hesitantly.
"Darling," she propelled him towards his usual place at the table and started to layer pancakes, waffles and eggs onto his plate. "Good dreams?" she asked absently, frowning as the frying pan started smoking.
"Hmm…" Luke shrugged; he hadn't really slept, more like drifted in and out of consciousness. Needless to say, there had been no dreams.
"That's nice dear," May sighed loudly as she emptied out the smouldering frying pan into the bin. She stood up straight and brushed her fine blond hair back from her face. Then she smiled at Luke and looked up at the clock above his head. "Oh, goodness, is that the time already? Eat up Luke, can't be late on your first day back!"
She bustled around the kitchen scraping his plate still talking about how much she would miss having him around and not to insult all his teachers first thing –an enjoyable pastime of his.
She half shoved him to the door where she put her arms around him. "Come back for lunch okay? I'll have peanut butter and Kool-Aid."
"Of course Mom, I'll see you soon," Luke buried his face in her arms; "Bye Mom, love you…" his voice broke. "I-I'll be back for lunch."
May giggled and cupped his face in her hand, "Of course you love me and I love you too. See you soon."
Then as though possessed she tightened her grip on him, her voiced rasped and her eyes glowed, "No, no, Luke don't go, don't run!" She shook him desperation rising.
And she watched wailing as her nine year old son tore himself out of her grasp and run down the path, out of the gate and onto the street. Across the road and out of sight, she collapsed on the step of her porch and that was how her neighbour found her on his way home from work.
Luke's chest heaved. Furiously rubbing his eyes, he took another trembling step. He wanted to look back. He wanted to see what he had done; to see the pain he had caused. Instead, Luke held onto his back-pack straps and ran. Luke ran for his life.
.
She rushed around the room, stuffing different objects into her bag, then taking them out again, then deciding on not taking something at the bottom and pouring everything onto the bed.
For a second she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. This was more stressful then she had thought it would be. Then there was a face, for a second she thought it was her brother's face, maybe it was what he would look like when he grew older; she would never know now.
Then she noticed some differences, this boy, whilst he had blond hair and blue eyes, he had slightly icier irises and his lips bowed into more of a curve. His hair needed cutting, and washing and possibly several hairdressers. His cheek bones jutted out of his skin, like a half-starved animal. It was a freeze frame, caught mid-laugh. His teeth were very white, she noticed, and he had a pleasant smile, one that made her want to grin too. His skin was tanned and his lashes were dark.
Then he was gone. Thalia shook herself and frowned slightly, where had that image come from. She was sure she had never seen anyone like that. She pushed the picture of the laughing boy out of her head; she would puzzle over it later. She turned back to her bed and sighed. Now what did she need.
Gently, she laid a picture of her and Jason in the very top of items in her bag, it would make her load heavy, but it would be worth it, just to have a piece of him with her.
After nearly an hour of packing and un-packing Thalia became certain that she had everything she needed – for the moment – and skulked down the stairs. She crept into the living room and ever so slowly opened her mother's wallet.
She pulled out the crisp sheets of money. When about $200 had been transferred into her purse, she placed to wallet where she had found it and quietly slid out of the back door, her new life beckoned.
It was dark outside, but the sun was pushing its way past the horizon, battling with the night sky. The street was shadowy and eerie but Thalia just sighed and began to walk. She walked into the glooms without backwards glance. She didn't need one.
.
Luke glanced around gingerly then beckoned for Myles to follow him; which he did, also glancing from left to right. The boy's cropped hair was rumpled and they were mud-splattered. Muttering curses the friends stripped of their soaking clothes, down to their underwear. Then they pulled out the bundle of spare clothes and divvied it among them.
Myles swore loudly when he realised that for five minutes he had been trying to pull his trousers over his head. Luke smirked, lacing up his sneakers.
"Having trouble mate?"
Myles glared at his traveling companion, "Alright for you." When both teens were clothed, they sat down opposite each other in the safe house and Luke pulled out some food he had pinched out of an old ladies trolley. They split the bread and apples out, both taking draughts of clean-ish water.
"Man, how do you get this stuff? I would have got nicked way back!" Myles exclaimed. "It's so awesome!"
Luke looked uncomfortably away, "Dude?" Myles leaned forward, still grinning.
"Actually, I need to talk to you," Luke began, dread bubbling inside his stomach, at the thought of his friend deserting him, like so many before had done, or even worse, say how cool it sounded and how great it must be to have and Olympian for a dad.
Ha, that showed how much they knew about the Gods.
"Uh oh, 'the talk'," Myles smirked; Luke chucked some scrap paper at his head, which he dodged, "What about? Wait – are you the head of an alien race? Because that would be so cool." He smirked and rested his head in his hands, certain Luke's problem or whatever, could be turned into a joke, then fixed and they could carry on running. Away from whatever Luke was running from; his parents; his past; his identity - and of course, he, from his own problems.
Luke swallowed, may as well give it to him straight, "My dad is a Greek God - Hermes." The fourteen year old gulped again, telling people had got harder and harder over time.
Myles snorted, "So, Luke what's really the problem. Don't even think about lying, I can tell."
Luke took a deep breath and started explaining, from the very beginning.
.
"Grace! Oi! Grace, snap out of it and 'elp me out 'ere!" Thalia turned slowly, and chuckled, McKenzie was standing with one leg in the trouser hole and her arm through the other. McKenzie scowled, "Nothin' funny 'bout this, now give me a 'and!"
Mitch, Callum, Pete and Violet lazed on scuffed arm chairs, flicking the remote from one channel to the next, before finally settling on and all-nighter horror. Breaking and entering had its perks; cable TV, beds and fridges being some of them. Mitch intertwined his fingers with Violets', and she rested her head on his lap. Cue gagging noises from Callum and Pete, ever the stereotypical identical twins, who had their feet propped on the others lap.
Just as Thalia began untangling her friend from the mass of clothing the foraging half of the group came running through the entrance, hoods up.
Uh oh, that was a bad sign. Krissy, in the lead, stooped hands on knees for a second, before spitting out the words the words between deep breaths.
"Out, out, out! Everyone, cops alert, grab incriminating objects and run, to the gathering place!" With that the group of seven homeless kids took off, grabbing only their spare clothes, which had been drying after a spin in the washing machine, another perk to other people's houses.
Mitch grabbed Violet's hand and pulled her out of the window they were quickly followed by the twins, who had stopped only to switch off the oven, and TV.
"Guys, see you at the meeting place," hollered Pete over his shoulder as Callum dragged him out of the frame.
Thalia glanced and McKenzie who was desperately struggling with her clothes.
"No, Grace, jus' go! I'll be fine!" Thalia, glanced around desperately, was that her imagination or could she hear footsteps pounding up the drive? Hurriedly she passed McKenzie her hoodie and slipped her own over her 'borrowed' T-shirt.
"Come on McKenzie, we're in this together!" Yes, now she could hear them, police sirens wailing, getting louder, louder.
"We've gotta scram!" McKenzie tossed her shoes aside, jumping out of the window barefoot. Willing herself to become a shadow, Thalia pressed back against the wall, waiting for an opening.
"All of you inside the building, I want you all to have your hands in the air where I can see them by the time I get in there," an officer called.
"Dramatic type, cops, ain't they?" chortled McKenzie, then she turned to Thalia, "'we're in this together'? What sorta chick-flicks you been watching?" They slinked through the undergrowth, and almost immediately McKenzie whispered, "Now!" They broke into a run, sprinting across the paths, frantically dodging policemen; hoods covering their faces.
"Get them!"
Wow, Thalia thought, this is just like in 'America's Most Wanted'.
The duo ducked and weaver between the two cops on guard, before they even noticed, yells of "Hey!", "Get back here!" and "You could get a sentence in reformatory for this!" the last of which did nothing but spur the girls on faster.
Thalia panted, pumping her arms back and forth. The hood flew off her head. She could taste blood in her mouth, McKenzie shoved her sideways into an alley way. Dodging past dustbins and rubbish, Thalia and McKenzie ran harder and harder. Thalia's feet burned with pain and the cold air whipped across her face.
We're - running - for - our - lives, thought Thalia, exhilarated and terrified.
Only when they were finally out of range of the shouting policemen did they slow down, first to a jog, then to a walk. Looking back every few steps, just to be certain they were completely alone, they began to make their way towards the warehouse. It rose out of the dark, flat-roofed and crumbling.
The hall was dark, odd, usually when you arrived the first thing you did was switch on the lights. It was cold, again strange, and most importantly no one was there!
"Violet, Callum," McKenzie called tentatively, "Pete, are you 'ere? Krissy: where are ya'll?" At the same moment there was a clang from around the corner the adolescents gulped. Thalia tiptoed her way towards the corner whilst McKenzie (unenthusiastically) pressed her back against the wall and began to edge her way towards the end of the partition.
Thalia shook her head and muttered, "She thinks she's Tom Cruise from 'Mission Impossible'."
When they were about half way there, Thalia threw out an arm whispered;
"We're going around the corner, this side is better concealed." With that, she grabbed her friends' wrist and pulled McKenzie behind her.
"We should jus' skedaddle outa here, they'd do the same!" Ignoring her comrade's weak protests, Thalia hauled the two of them towards the bend.
They turned the corner.
.
Myles held his head in his hands, his face was a cross between seriously bemused and thoughtfulness, a strange combination as it turned out and Luke would have found it extremely funny, had he not been watching, bated breath for the other boy's reaction.
"So," began Myles after a long pause, "you're telling me your dad actually is Hermes; the Greek God. The freaky people who occasionally try to kill us are monsters from ancient Greek Myths?" He stopped again, with a little shake of his head, as if he was questioning Luke's sanity. "But I can't see them because of something called Mist? Is that it?"
"You don't believe me," Luke sighed, now he'd have to leave.
"I didn't say that," Myles leant back and crossed his ankles, "of course I believe you! Like I said, I know when people lie."
"Wait," Luke blinked in confusion, huh? "What did you say?"
"I believe you," Myles shrugged. "It's just hard – no, weird - to suddenly deal with. You know what I mean?"
"No," Luke answered truthfully. "So, you believe me," he struggled to keep track of the conversation.
"Yes, yes Luke, I've already said that!" Myles nodded impatiently, "Keep up!" Then he grasped Luke by the shoulders, "Why didn't you tell me straight away? It would have been easier by far!"
"I-I wasn't sure -"
"That was meant to be rhetorical, you know, you don't answer back," not letting go of Luke's shoulders he stood, slightly looking down on the younger boy. "Being a demi-whatever -"
"Demigod,"
"Be quiet, being a demigod sounds awful; monsters attacking; being alone? I think you need a friend, a proper friend."
Luke half smiled half grimaced, "I need a friend so badly right now."
Myles grinned; a smile so similar to Luke's own, it was like looking into a mirror, well; a mirror that changed your eyes, hair and height. "I was hoping you'd say that; now how about you start training me to fight monsters!"
