Demigod

The barrier let them through when they returned to the house. Mr. and Mrs. Sherman looked intensely relieved to see them, but not half so much as Santana and Clarisse. The other two demigods both pulled them into vice-like hugs.

"Ow! Mother of Zeus, Clarisse!" Quinn yelped, wincing.

Rachel laughed as Santana swung her around.

"Knew you two could beat it!" she said.

"Then why do you look so relieved to see us?" Quinn quipped.

"Shut it…."

"Well…we certainly are happ—" Max started, but quickly cut off when Rachel held up a hand.

"Your computer that you use to track demigods' parents. Is it safe for us to use?"

"Er…uh…yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Then you're going to print out a list of all the parents you were going to hand over to your brother tomorrow. Mrs. Sherman, does that fountain in the front yard work?"

"Sure does, dear."

"Santana, go get your drachma ready. We'll send an Iris message back to both camps with the names so they can send protection out. We may have killed the Stymphalian Birds, but the harpies are still around. Then we'll go after Hector."

"Where is he now?" Quinn asked, smiling at Rachel's newfound assertiveness. The young demigod was obviously done fucking around.

Max's eyes closed. "I'll give you the names. But why should I help you smite my brother off the face of the earth? He's…he's the only family I have left, after our mother died."

"He's taking other people's families away," Quinn said, quiet fury radiating from her, all trace of a smile gone. "A baby was delivered to Camp just before we left."

Max looked supremely uncomfortable, and shifted a bit. "I don't want him hurt."

"Tough luck, if he decides to fight us."

"That's my brother!"

"And he has my fathers," Rachel said. "Are you really telling me you just let us take care of the Minotaur for you, but now you're perfectly happy to let your brother keep ripping families apart?"

"No…I mean…it's complicated."

"No it really isn't," Clarisse said.

Everyone turned to stare at where she was leaning against the counter, snaking on one of the mini bunt cakes Mrs. Sherman had sat out.

"Your brother was a big shot, even though you didn't make it to Camp until your mother was dying and couldn't protect you from the monsters anymore. You were what…sixteen, seventeen?"

"Seventeen," he mumbled.

"And he was automatically accepted, while you were a computer nerd with no muscle and had to work twice as hard to be half as good at battle training. And you tried to be accepted in the Athena cabin, but this was back when we had Hogwarts level house loyalty, so that probably went over about as well as Jackson's blue cupcakes. Bullied all your life, but told that you have to put up with it because he's your family—waahhh, wahhh, wahhhhh…. Old habits die hard. In a nutshell, you're too chicken shit to stand up to him."

Max looked away from them.

The young demigods glanced at each other.

"We don't care about your sob story," Clarisse said. "I fought wars with demigods who have infinitely more dysfunctional families, and they still stepped up to the plate. We're going to get those parents back. Where is your brother?"

Max stood there, nervous eyes darting back and forth between each of the four demigods.

"You don't have to be brave," Santana said. "We'll do that for you."

Rachel held up the labyrinth emblem. "Or I could go unlock the Minotaur's cage."

Max hung his head. "He works as a guide at Cave of the Winds. Just west of Colorado Springs."

"A cave," Rachel said. "That's why it was so cold and damp—"

"And the lighting. You said it was weird blue light," Quinn said. "Some cave tours will light caves with different colored lanterns to end with a bit of a bang. If he's keeping them in a section of the tour that's been sectioned off…."

"Let's get those names," Santana said.

An hour later, they'd showered and eaten again at Mrs. Sherman's insistence. She loaded them down with snacks and drinks as they prepared to leave.

"Crap…" Clarisse muttered, trying to rev the car. "We're out of gas."

"What?" Rachel asked.

"Out of gas. We can use regular gas, but the flying function isn't going to work without some seriously powerful stuff to go in the tank."

"Ambrosia?" Santana suggested.

"We don't have enough," Quinn said.

"What about my apple?" Rachel asked. "We still have most of it, and we could probably get away with only using a few slices."

"We can't take that chance," Clarisse said. "We don't know what we're up against."

"Either we risk it, or we're spending time we don't have to get up to Colorado."

"How long does it take to get there from here?"

"About fifteen hours, not including stops."

"Let's do it," Santana said quietly.

Rachel ran in and pureed three of the apple slices in Mrs. Sherman's food processor, while Clarisse and Max found some regular gas in the garage. To each demigod's relief, it worked.

"Good luck," Max said, as they boarded the RV again. "I hope…I hope you get those people back to their children."

"Don't worry, we will," Clarisse said, shutting the door.