Chapter 11: Lexi POV

The cushioned seat of the diner booth felt so good against my aching back, and I sunk deeper into the leather. Izaya studied me with a curious expression and still managed to seem amused.

"What?" I asked with a light tone. I felt oddly giddy from the motorcycle ride. Everything had felt so free; I had felt free. Stretching my arms as high as they would go, I struggled to stay into my sitting position. The moment he began to reply, I slid under the table.

"Ow." I complained as his booming laughter rumbled throughout the vacant Denny's. It was only 5am and here I was, at a Denny's in Philadelphia with a demigod I had met less than 48 hours ago. A huge frown spread across my face as I nearly drowned in my own clumsiness. Izaya continued to chuckle and helped me out of my predicament. Rummaging through our duffel bags, he pulled out the mess of maps and books for our quest until finding the right one. He analyzed the map of Pennsylvania and finally replied.

"Before that display of your remarkable balance, I was going to tell you how relaxed you look. Annabeth told me you seemed kind of uptight. However, here you are sinking into a leather booth, falling under tables. While we were driving you let the wind take you away, and you didn't even ask me about helmets! Plus, you are the only girl I have ever seen who hasn't fussed with her hair." Izaya trapped a few knotted blonde strands in his fingertips.
The sight of the knot had me furiously trying to tame the again raging mane on my head. I didn't comprehend half of what he said. That was the most I had ever heard Izaya talk since I met him. His voice was very low and had a sort of charming quality. I envied the way he sounded so much older than me, so much wiser. I was a daughter of Athena, I should sound wise! Not a son of Hephaestus! I didn't know why I was so angered by this, and I tried to calm myself. Izaya snickered as I racked my shaking fingers through the tangles of my once silky smooth locks, and I lost it.

"What do you mean Annabeth told you about me? She has barely known me for a day! When did you plan on telling me this? Oh and how long have I looked this horrible?" My voice rose in frustration and I tried not to curse. Breathing through my teeth, a scowl formed on my face as I waited for an answer. Thoughts raced throughout my head, and for once I couldn't come up with a logical explanation. Annabeth had told Izaya about me? Why would she do that? And why didn't anyone tell me about Izaya? Was I supposed to be in the dark while Izaya had gotten a briefing on his new partner in the quest?

"What are you thinking about?" Izaya whispered, and I swore there was some desperation in those deep violet eyes. Instead of replying, I rolled my gray eyes and snatched the map from him. My eyes analyzed the paper and were surprised to find that it now showed the streets of Philadelphia, not just the United States. I found the pink symbol meaning "girl" written just off of North 15th street, next to the JFK Plaza. Peering out the window of the restaurant, I was pleased to find that we were on Chestnut Street, only a mile or two from our destination.

Without replying to Izaya I stood up, left a five dollar bill on the table to pay for the water we had gotten, and briskly walked out the door. Struggling to keep up with my fast pace, Izaya ran out the door, holding our duffel bags over one shoulder.
"What the heck are you doing?" He shouted, simultaneously strapping our bags to the back of the Harley. Throwing my leg over the side of vehicle in my rage, I revved the engine, trying to remember what Izaya did when he drove. The little lever on the right handle was what he held down, and then he released it and the engine started… was that it? In that moment, I didn't care. Before Izaya could stop me, I let go of the handle. Suddenly I was flying.

The bike flew past me in slow motion, leaving me behind. My body was thrown back and into the air. I barely had time to scream before my back hit the asphalt. Pain seared through my limbs and my head cracked on the street. In the back of my mind I heard Izaya yelling at me, screaming for me to say something to him, but all I could comprehend was the pain. I knew my eyes were open, I knew I was breathing, but I couldn't speak, couldn't move. He shook me, but I couldn't make my lips move. All I could do was look at him in horror as I struggled to stay awake.

"Lexi, Lexi why did you do that? Please Lexi, please say something!" Izaya screamed frantically. His fingers fluttered hopelessly over my frozen form before a light bulb went on in his mind. "Oh gods, please let this work," He whispered frantically as he picked something out of his pocket. I moaned as he pressed the brick of food to my lips. His fingers fumbling, Izaya set the block on my tongue. The food was so pleasurable that it nearly made me forget the pain. It tasted like the best chocolate cake in the world, the fudgiest, most wonderful piece of cake you could ever have eaten. Warmth spread throughout my body and I sighed. Thoughts formed in my mind, and I remembered reading one of my mythology books. I knew what this was. Ambrosia. Words began to form in my mouth again, coming in a hoarse whisper.

"What… happened?" I managed to say. Izaya gasped and cracked a relieved smile.

"In your rage, you let go of the clutch too quickly. You were only going about twenty miles an hour, but you skid onto the street… and your back looks kind of scraped up. You have a bump on your head too, but I think you might be alright… do you feel okay? Not dying or anything?" His voice was casual, but from the look in his eyes I could tell that he was trying not to freak out. I gulped slowly and tentatively tried to move my arms, trying out my other limbs in the process.

"I don't think I broke anything, but I'm pretty bruised up." I told him, trying to keep my voice from turning into a whisper. "Ow, and my throat and head hurt. Uh… can you help me up? I want to see what happened to my back, because it is starting to sting really badly." Izaya nodded, and gingerly put his arms around me. Wobbling for a moment, I leaned heavily on him and managed to stay on my feet. It took most of my energy not to fall over or screech in pain at the agony crawling up my back. My head throbbed, making my vision swirl.

"I think we should go to the hospital." Izaya said, staring wide-eyed at the back of my shirt.

"Is it that bad?" I cringed as he lifted part of my shirt off my searing flesh. A small moan escaped me and Izaya stiffened.

"I think we really need to go somewhere for this… because it might get infected or something… and I don't know what else we could do." Izaya sighed and gestured around us. "Let's get the bike and go… the city is waking up." I nodded and grasped his hand.

Izaya led me to where the Harley lay, about 20 yards from where I had been thrown off. Other than a few scratches, the only damage consisted of a bent handlebar and a twisted muffler. I scowled at the metal, angered that it was less damaged than I. The city was slowly waking up around me as Izaya struggled to get the bike to work again. Careful to not stress my still burning wounds, I gazed at my surroundings.

Although it was only around 5am, men and women of multiple ages walked up and down the filling streets, seeming to be in a hurry to get to work. Traffic moved at a steady pace, and businesses began to turn on their lights. This is an early city, I thought. New York wasn't usually busy until at least 630, and my hometown, Boston, usually wasn't up and running until 7 or 8. Memories flooded through my mind, and I could see flashes of my childhood.

Before my dad had gotten married to that witch of a step-mother, my life had been practically perfect. We had lived in a beautiful Victorian house, just him and I. He had taught me about America's history, just like he did in his college classes. When I was six, he met Julie. In six months, they were married, and I had gotten a new step mother, along with her wretched son Brandon. Julie didn't like me one bit, and never treated me like her child. She brainwashed my dad, and then he sent me to Villa-Elizabeth. I hadn't had an entire conversation with my dad in more than four years.

"Lexi, come on, let me help you get on the bike." Izaya's voice snapped me out of my stupor, and I swayed. With swift movement, Izaya gripped me tightly at the waist and picked me up. It amazed me that he picked me up and placed me on the bike without touching my back. "Hold on tight, please." Izaya said firmly. Gradually accelerating the bike's speed, we sped down the street. Immediately I knew where we were heading: The Academy for Fine Arts. I had always dreamed of going to this school. As I saw the brick buildings, I questioned why we would go here. Our quest was supposed to take us by the JFK Plaza, but the academy was a mile north from there.

"Why are we going here?" I asked with a puzzled expression. Izaya shrugged and pulled into the parking lot near the entrance building. He got off the bike in a hurry and pulled me with him, not saying a word. "Are you okay?" I asked suspiciously, tugging on his shirt. When he didn't respond, I cautiously followed him into the building. The room was dark, but I could tell how beautiful it was regardless. The paintings were amazing, magnificent. Izaya paid no attention to them, and instead walked to the desk at the end of the big room.

"Lexi, come here. Someone needs to talk with us." He said his voice strange. It sounded as if he was droning on in his sleep. Biting my lip, I stepped forward with deliberate slowness. Something was going on, and I really didn't like it. As I neared the desk, I gasped.

It was my father! He had come for me, summoned me at last!

"Hello, Alexia. It is nice to finally meet you." The voice that came out of my father's mouth was deep and slow, clearly not right.

"Dad?" I whispered, taking a step back. My father chuckled.

"I am not your father, you silly girl." The man changed right before my eyes, and he became a mirror image of me. "I can be anyone you wish me to become, and anything I wish to be myself." As the man continued to change forms I began to step back, eventually running down the hall. The wounds in my back were burning, but I kept running.

Suddenly my mind went blank.

"You do not run from me," the voice said, "I am Morpheus, god of dreams. Come to me, little demigod, and let us chat."

A haze went over my mind as he controlled me, making me walk forward, back to where he sat.

"Yes," I whispered automatically, "Let us chat."