TWO
"We have to hurry," I say, leaping off the couch.
"Ok," Hazel replies warily, "we'll go get Nyx and–"
"NO. There's no time!" I interrupt. I grip Hazel's shoulder and, before she has time to blink, we're standing next to a highway; it's night time.
Hazel collapses on the ground, wheezing. "That," she gasps, "was worse than sailing." She looks like she's going to be sick.
"Come on," I pull her to her feet. "Which way?" She points a shaky finger at the space between the tunnels. Two teenagers, wearing purple T-Shirts and gold armor, stand on either side of a door. "Right." We wait until the road is clear, and dash across to the median.
One of the teenagers sees us and draws his sword. "Halt!" he cries, "Who goes there?"
"Hazel Levesque," Hazel calls back, "Fifth Cohort." She steps into the dim light. The guards see Hazel's face and stand at attention. They slam their fists on their breastplates.
"Forgive us, Hazel," the second one stammers, "we didn't see you." She is smaller than the boy; perhaps fourteen.
Hazel blushes. "Please, don't salute me. We need to get in to Camp; Reyna summoned us."
"And who is this?" the first asks, looking at me. I stayed in the shadows, but he can still tell I'm there.
"This is my, uh…sister," Hazel replies. "She's here to see Reyna, too."
"Is she one of us?" the girl asks, confused. "I thought you and Nico were–"
"I'm not a Roman," I say carefully. "But I am Hazel's sister. She didn't meet me until the battle with Gaea."
"Please, Kylee," Hazel asks the girl. "It's urgent."
Kylee nods and opens the door. Hazel and I walk down the narrow tunnel briskly. "Did they really salute you?" I ask, barely holding back my laughter.
Hazel blushes again. "The Legionnaires act weird around all of the Seven–you know, the ones of us from the last Great Prophecy? Let's…not talk about it."
We emerge from the tunnel into a valley; at the bottom of the hill, a river winds around a stone and marble city, like a capital G, sparkling in the light of the moon.
"The Little Tiber," Hazel says, leading me down the hill. "Reyna will be in the city proper. Come on." We forge a path down the slippery grass; it must have recently rained. We cross over the Little Tiber and make our way to the walled city. Hazel stops me outside the gate, by a large, white bust.
"Good evening, Terminus," Hazel says to the statue. Its eyes open and glare back.
"It was," the stone man snaps, "until you showed up and ruined my sleep!"
"We're sorry," Hazel replies. "Reyna summoned us, we need to get into the city."
"Humph," the statue gripes. "The gates are closed. Come back in the morning."
"We can't," Hazel insists. "We need to see Reyna now."
Terminus mumbles something about mortals in a hurry and finally says, "Fine. But you leave your weapons here; you know the rules."
"Of course," Hazel says. She unclasps her spatha from around her waist and sets it down on the ground next to the statue's pedestal.
"You too," Terminus snaps at me. I sigh and draw my angel blade from its sheath on my belt, dropping it next to Hazel's sword. Angel blades are the only thing that can harm or kill an angel; I stole my particular weapon from an angel a couple years back. That angel had happened to be trying to kill me. "All of them," Terminus growls. I purse my lips. I draw back the slit in the side of my skirt and remove the demon-killing knife from the strap on my thigh. I remove a salt-infused iron and silver switchblade from the inside of my shoe and a silver wolf pin from my hair, throwing them down with the rest of my weapons. I also tug off the bronze and brass-studded bracelet from my wrist and unclasp a small pouch from my belt, adding them to the pile. The leather pouch holds emergency vials of holy water and salt, as well as a small syringe of dead man's blood, some charcoal and chalk for writing runes, and a lock-picking kit.
I cross my arms. "Happy?" Hazel stares at my arsenal with wide eyes. "What?" I ask innocently. "I've got a lot of things trying to kill me."
"And those?" Terminus asks, looking behind me. Hazel's eyes follow, confused. I stare at the stone man, my mouth open.
"Are you kidding me!?" I growl. "How would I hurt anyone with those?"
"They're razor-sharp."
I roll my eyes. "Well I can't do anything about that!"
"I will not allow weapons into my city!" Terminus roars.
"They're not weapons, you slab of concrete! And it's not like I can just get rid of them!"
"What are you talking about?" Hazel asks, more confused than before.
I clench my jaw. "My wings."
Her jaw drops. "You have…wings?"
"Yeah. I inherited them from Dad. They just happen to have razor-sharp feathers because that's how I was born!" I snap at Terminus. That was actually a little bit of a lie. I wasn't born with wings; not technically. I was born with innate angelic abilities–like teleportation and stuff, but my wings didn't actually manifest until after I became immortal.
"It doesn't matter," Terminus huffs. "They are considered weapons and are not allowed in the city."
"I can't even hurt anyone with them!" I shout in exasperation. "Demigods and humans can't even see them, let alone feel them. See?" I prove my point by unfurling one of my black wings and swinging it at Hazel; she doesn't react–because she can't see it. It passes straight through her like smoke.
Terminus is about to shout back when another voice calls from the darkness. "What in the name of Jupiter is going on here?" The voice is female, authoritative. A figure steps out of the darkness.
"Reyna!" Hazel breathes. "Thank the gods. I got your letter. Terminus won't let us into the city."
"Why not?" Reyna asks the statue. Despite the forwardness of her question, her voice is respectful.
"That girl–no the one I'm pointing to! Look at where I'm pointing, praetor–that one refuses to disarm herself."
I throw my hands in the air. "I've told you; they're attached to me!"
"What?" Reyna looks confused.
"Ugh!" I cry. "My wings."
"What wings?"
I slam my forehead with my palm. "They're invisible–and intangible, might I reiterate–to mortals. Only Stone-face and I can see them."
"Jez," Hazel whispers, "Terminus is a god. Don't insult him." I cross my arms angrily.
"Terminus," Reyna says carefully, "I will vouch for the girl." I hold myself back from pointing out that I'm older than her. Physically as well as literally.
Terminus obviously isn't happy about it, but lets me enter the city.
"So what–" I start to say, but Reyna cuts me off.
"Not here," she whispers. I bite back a retort. We walk silently through the city; empty stalls line the streets, with various signs advertising demigod-related merchandise. Eventually we arrive at Reyna's office–well, it's not really an office. More of a bank-looking temple thing. Reyna leads us inside; two bronze braziers stand burning on either side. The walls are decorated with velvet on both sides, and a mega-sized, cathedral-quality mosaic in the back. A wooden table in the center is strewn with books, papers, scrolls, weapons, and, for some reason, a bowl of Jelly Babies. There is a metallic sound to my left. I look over to see two metal dogs–one silver, the other gold–prowl towards me. They growl.
"Argum; Argentum," Reyna says warningly. The dogs sit. Reyna takes a seat behind the table and gazes at me. Eventually, she folds her hands across the table and says, "You're not a demigod."
"No," I say. I don't elaborate.
"You told the guards you were Hazel's sister."
"I am." Reyna glances at the greyhounds. They don't react.
"Are you…Greek, then?"
"No." Again, she looks to her dogs. They sit as still as…well, metal statues. Her eyebrows stitch together in confusion.
Hazel jumps in. "Look, Jezebel is my sister," she says. "But she's not a child of Hades or Pluto. The Romans and the Greeks aren't the only immortal beings out there. And sometimes, like the Romans and Greeks, they have multiple personalities, shared between the religions."
"What are you saying?" Reyna asks.
Hazel sighs. This is never the easiest thing to explain. "Jez is half-angel. Her father is Lucifer."
Reyna's eyes bug out of her head. I get the feeling she's not usually taken by surprise like this. "You mean…like, the Devil?"
"Yep," I say and wiggle my fingers. "Literal Hell-spawn. Nice to meet you." My hand drops back by my side and I scowl. Reyna's hand closes around a letter opener and she makes the sign of the cross. I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on. My father isn't that much different than Pluto or Hades, but I don't see you pulling a knife on Hazel or Nico. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not a demon. Besides," I add, leaning against the wall, "you can't hurt me with that."
"Oh?" she asks. She holds up the letter opener. It's not sharp, but could still be used dangerously. "Imperial Gold; it can harm demigods and gods. Why not a demi-angel?"
My head tilts down and I glare at the Roman through my eyelashes. The fires in the braziers sputter out. "Because I'm more powerful than any of you," I hiss. "I'm not supposed to exist." I step away from the wall. "Humans and gods having kids–that's normal. It's been happening for centuries. But humans and angels? That was never supposed to happen." I continue striding slowly towards Reyna. Hazel has backed away; I see fear in their eyes. "The gods are limited in their power–their children even more so. But what happens when you take one of the most powerful–and the most uncontrollable–angel and give him offspring? The result is more powerful than you can imagine. I'm not supposed to exist–I can't exist, according to the laws of the world." I reach the table and lean over it, pressing my hands into the wood. "And yet, here I am. So you tell me, daughter of Bellona, can you kill me?"
Reyna has stayed in her chair, but her knuckles are white. "I never told you who my mother is," she whispers.
I smile cruelly. After a moment, I step back and relax. The fires burst to life again. Reyna looks nervously down at the table, where two black handprints are now permanently seared into the wood. "Besides," I say, "you need me."
"And why would I need your help?" she narrows her eyes.
I cross my arms. "Because I know what–or rather whom–you're dealing with. And you can't handle them alone."
Once again, Reyna looks at her dogs. They continue to watch me, but haven't made a noise or moved since they sat. Reyna takes that as a sign of me telling the truth and puts down her knife. She folds her hands. "Alright, I'll trust you."
Like you have a choice, I think.
"So tell me, who is hunting down my soldiers, and how do we stop them?"
"Their names are Sam and Dean Winchester. They're hunters–of the supernatural variety. They track down demons and monsters and kill them. Somehow, they caught on to you guys, and they think you're witches; they don't really care much for witches. Or anything that is unnatural, for that matter."
"We have reports of a third man."
I swear under my breath. "I was hoping that wasn't the case," I mutter.
"What?"
I sigh. "The Winchesters sometimes travel with a…companion."
"You mean…" Hazel whispers. I look at her and nod, pursing my lips.
"I was going to let you handle this on your own, but it looks like I have no other choice but to…help–" I dislike saying that word "–you. I don't like it. I don't…help people."
"So what do we do?" Hazel asks. "Are we going to talk to them?"
I clench my jaw. "Not likely. You'll probably want to bring your weapons."
"Why?" Reyna asks.
"Because the last time I saw my uncle, he tried to kill me."
