A/N: My internet went down so I'm a day late. Managed to get some more writing done. Next chapter will be a long one.

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Chapter XVII

The sharp blade manifested out of shadow and was sent flying too quick for Mark's instincts to alarm him in time. It cut deep into his thigh, leaving a bleeding gash, and then lodged into the wall, and thankfully, not into his other leg. Fighting the pain, he was reminded just how much a stab wound could limit one's mobility. Grunting at the next step, he could feel the muscles burn as he kept running throughout the silent hallways of the school that now seemed never ending—swallowing him inside the endless maw of the night. He could hear echoed snickers and cackles behind him, the raven thought that he'd already won, and now chased him for the thrill of the hunt. 'Good. Keep following, don't think about it.'

His pace slowed considerably when he swiveled suddenly to the room on the right side of the hallway. He tries the lights, flipping the button on and off several times to no results. The power was as dead as the building. In the dark, the auditorium seemed like a scene from an old, black-and-white medieval film. Rows of chairs stood empty in front of a stage, a podium stood center atop of it, like a monolith upon which a criminal stood in his final moments before being executed. He needed to reach the storage room in the back, but he was losing blood. The crow managed to hit his leg, and nearly managed his face—had he not managed to protect it with his left arm. He heard the door as it flung open, its hinges creaked as it hit the wall hard, nearly breaking. Mark ducked low. Moving in gentle steps towards the middle row of chairs that, he hoped, could keep him hidden. He reached the middle of the row, unsure if his pursuer caught his silhouette.

There were many things that he cursed himself for, even if he should've known better than that. His legacy, the fall of Rome, buying notebooks with a print that clearly didn't suit him, were but a few. But right now, stooped in an uncomfortable position in which he felt his body start to seize up even more, he cursed himself the most for dropping his phone as he escaped. In his stillness, his hearing heightened somewhat, and he could hear the quiet sounds of soft steps creeping closer.

"You can't escape me, emperor, show yourself or die, I care not." The voice echoed across the room, as if the creature was whispering into a connected microphone up on stage. He felt a shiver run down his spine. "You're powerless. No powers. No weapons. No gods. No little godlings for me to feast on." He advanced a step at a time as the crow taunted, reaching the end of the row. The storage room was ahead. He had to make a run for it. Bust down the door and wish that what he needed was still there. And working. 'Mars give me the strength.' He jumped into action. Muscles straining against fatigue and pain, he ran as though his life was dependent on it. 'It probably does.'

"How puny you look now, son of Rome," The creature mocked. His voice sounded stronger now to the teacher's ears. He was closing the distance, fast. "You once ruled the world, and now even your own language is dead. Your city is nothing but rubble, reduced to ash." Mark was almost to the double wooden door when he risked a look back, confirming his assailant was closer than he thought. Reaching the door he turned the handles lethargically, his hands almost slipping on them. The doors were closed. 'Of course. The day it would be left open would be the day they fire Nancy. So never.'

"Return to ash, emperor. Join the echoes of your city. Your gods. The ones you killed!" Mark turned in time to see another blade of shadow—or was it two—as they swiped at his body, aiming to take the final blow. He rolled out of the way at the last second, the blades cutting at the left side of his body instead of his head. The momentum continued, cutting easily through the thick wooden door, breaking the hinges as it toppled inside of the room. The creature spun, bringing his weapon back once more. Mark saw a glint at the corner of his eye, and the outline fit to what he remembered. It was there.

The crow swiped at him again, sharp shadows cutting the air. He rolled with great effort and stumbled inside the storage room. His hands grasped at the object, looking for the switch. The figure turned to him, ready to cut him down. With the last of his effort, Mark twisted, pointing the object at the creature.

"Nothing here can hurt me, mortal. This building is empty of power." He laughed.

"Sic. Good thing this runs on batteries." Mark remarked, his voice weak.

"What?" Mark flipped the switch, and the stage projector went on so bright that for a few seconds, he was blind. He heard the creature scream in pain as it recoiled from the light. He could hear hissing as the creature's flesh started to scorch, and the smell of rancid smoke filled his nostrils, making his eyes water.

"Run back to your master, crow. Tell her," His voice was labored, each word a slur of strange cadence borne of delirium. He could hear the screams no longer.

"Dum spiro, spero." His vision, still filled with the splendent light the projector was giving, suddenly went dark, and he dropped the light. As it fell to the ground, it held firm, and kept giving light that covered the teachers limp body.

A figure walked inside the room only a few minutes later. It looked upon the bloody hall with a dour expression, as he did many such scenes before. Stepping over the mess, he reached the body that lay down in the storage room, and took its form for a minute.

"As ever, the Romans adapt, Domina." He said to himself, his voice a low baritone. "Sadly, this day it was not enough." He concluded, turning away. A silent intake and outtake of air made him pause, and turn back. A smirk crossed his face. "Your gods smile upon you this day, emperor. Or do they?" The man snicked before crouching down and—with trained hands—picked up the teacher, hoisting him on his shoulder. Humming to himself, the man left the room, then the building, heading into the night carrying with him an emperor of Rome.

Reyna was still processing the events that led her to be sitting at Percy's dinner table with his mom serving her a plate of blue waffles. When he asked her to come along she thought he was joking. She never ate at someone's house. Or in any case another someone. 'Not since Jason.' The thought picked at the wound, but was forgotten as he grabbed her hand and pulled her on, insisting that he wasn't taking no for an answer.

As they were approaching his house she was getting nervous. It was a cozy two story building, the tiled roof was a gentle blue while the walls a soft crème from the impression she could get from the streetlights. 'Ours was like that, once. Maybe they have a fireplace.' The thought came on its own, without prompting, and she felt the hand pick again at wound.

"Ready?" he snapped her out of her darkening mood, and she noticed they were standing right by his door. She shivered, not from the cold, and nodded to him. He placed his hand on the handle, and turned to her again. "Oh, almost forgot. Please don't mention the demi-god thing, I still kind of not sure how to tackle it with her."

"Oh." And a nod was all she could muster. Of course talking about it to your parents is hard. 'Especially if they're dead.' Percy opened the door and the smell of baking hit her like a wall. 'When was the last time I actually baked something? Was it really that long?' Percy went inside naturally, as one would when entering their house. Reyna took a hesitant step. Then another, and closed the door behind her.

"Hey mom, I brought a guest, hope we have enough waffles." She heard Percy call out ahead of her, and her worry started to form into anxiety. 'This is too much. I can't.' She wanted to turn on her step, make an excuse, as his mom came out of the kitchen. She held a plate in her hand that—true to Percy's promise—had on it a stack of blue waffles.

"Of course we do. I always make-"His mom's voice was gentle, warm and kind. It enveloped her. 'Like her voice.'

"Extra. I know. Counted on it." Both Percy and his mom looked at her direction. "Come on, sit down." He gestured with his head towards the kitchen as his mom disappeared into the kitchen after setting the plate down on the dining table. She took a few more hesitant steps and finally sat down in front of the plate, trying to remember the last time something like this happened, but catching herself before she got too far.

The Waffles smelled fresh, and piping hot. They smelled like home. The feeling stung for a moment, and shook herself to remove the mental image. She admitted to herself already that she was hungry. And, looking at his mom—who introduced herself as Sally— who was now smiling expectedly at her—no doubt to see if she liked the waffles—she had no choice but to take a manageable bite.

As she expected, though the color was intense and artificial, the taste was genuine. And it filled her mouth with sweet, and salty, and tart. Sally's smile widened—and became even kinder somehow—she noted. She looked at Percy, who was now had a similar smile on his face. His plate left untouched for now, he gauged her reaction. Now Reyna realized where he got his smile from. She wanted to look away, as she did on the beach, but had nowhere to hide, so she gave a small smile back. "It's delicious." She said. Satisfied, Percy began eating. And she took another bite.

"So, Percy," Sally started as Reyna was in mid-bite, now more relax with her shoulders calm and with half of her plate gone in a manner she considered highly embarrassing. Percy gave a 'Hm' in response as he was chewing.

"You're finally at the age where you start bringing a girl home? Never thought I'd see the day." She smirked as she brought a mug of some sort of tea that smelled of cinnamon to her lips and slowly drank. Percy was the first to choke at the insinuation, followed shortly by her own small coughs as she felt her face heat up. Percy took his glass of water at an impressive speed before sipping half the cup—effectively clearing his throat.

"Mom!" He bellowed. Sally stared at him, never breaking the sipping of her tea.

She put her cup down, but her grin remained. "What? Is this not what's happening right now? You brought home a guest who happens to be a girl."

"We're friends! From school. At the same class. Please." He took another swig of water. Reyna did as well, finally able to control her coughing.

"Oh? And what does Reyna have to say about that?" Sally's gaze now fell on her, and the heat in her face increased. This was the last thing she needed right now.

"Never mind me but could you please stop embarrassing her? I still want her to be my friend you know." Percy sighed, getting over his outburst and finishing what remained in his plate in a single bite. Reyna still didn't get back to hers.

"We're friends Mrs. Jackson. Nothing more. Percy's a great help." She mumbled in response. Percy gave another awkward sigh.

"Please, call me Sally. Titles make me feel old." She laughed and smiled at her, winking. Reyna calmed down a little and nodded, and proceeded to finish her plate as Percy kept complaining about his mom's antics.

A cup of cinnamon-citrus tea later—which Sally insisted she had to try—she and Percy stood at his front door, and stepped outside.

"Thank you for the blue waffles." She said, genuinely thankful for his hospitality.

"You're quite welcome. We always have extra." He smiled.

"Thank your mom for me too. The tea was nice."

"She won't shut up about it but sure. Sorry about her act before." He chuckled. They walked close to one another without conscience thought back to the intersection of streets that led to her house.

"Want me to walk you?"

"Remind me who kicks whose butt at training?"

"Fair enough, gladiatrix."

She turned to him before giving him another smile. She noticed how her smile would break out more and more frequently often. She liked it. She hated it.

"See you tomorrow, Neptunulus. Bright and early." She turned and started walking, chuckling lightly to herself as she heard him groan in recognition of the time when they trained every morning.

For once in a long, long time, Reyna went to bed with a warm feeling inside of her, filling her with comfort she hadn't experienced in years. The next morning, as she and Percy stood in front of the main gate of their school at six sharp, it was all drained in an instant.

A large 'Do Not Cross' police tape covered the main gate. She noticed Percy's expression as he looked up in shock. Following his gaze, she reached the third story. One of the rooms to the left had its windows broken completely. Purple drapes blew in the wind with holes puncturing them. Broken pieces rained down and covered the entrance and she realized why Percy had that look on his face.

They both knew. That was Mark's room.