Mark and I braced ourselves, preparing for death, but it never came. The door to the bus flew open, and the Serpopard froze. Mark and I spun around, looking at the door. There, panting heavily and wielding a pair of panpipes as a weapon, was a teenage looking boy from the waist up, and a furry brown goat from the waist down. A satyr. I nearly fainted. I must have been hallucinating. Maybe I'd fallen asleep on the bus? Mark did seem too good to be true. But, the pain had been real. My arm wasn't really throbbing anymore. In fact, it felt a lot better, but I figured it was probably my imagination or something. As I realized how much blood I must have lost, my head swam. I turned back to the satyr. His eyes drifted to the serpopard and widened with fear.
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF ZEUS IS THAT!?" He screamed, looking like he was about to pass out.
"WHAT ARE YOU!?" Mark asked, equally as terrified.
"Th-that doesn't matter right now," The goat-man stuttered, "Right now, you have to kill this... Whatever the Hades it is!" The serpopard snarled from behind us. We ducked as it pounced at us, sending it flying into a pile of caution tape the bus driver was using to hold closed a broken emergency exit. The monster struggled against it, apparently stuck. Temporarily at least. The satyr dug through his pocket at pulled out a skull-shaped pin. He tossed it to Mark, who caught it with a raise of his eyebrow.
"What the hell is this going to do!?" He yelled.
"Open the safety pin part!" The satyr called back. Mark mumbled something about how the crazy goat was going to get us killed, and did what he asked. As soon as the safety pin part was open, the needle elongated into a black Ancient Greek style sword. Mark's eyes widened as he examined the blade. He opened his mouth, but the serpopard snarled. Apparently, it had got untangled. It lunged at Mark, who braced himself and held up the blade. I couldn't tell who was more surprised, the serpopard, or Mark, as the blade sliced through the monster's stomach. It crumbled to sand around him.
"I can't believe that worked!" The satyr said, cheerfully.
"You WHAT!?" Mark asked, looking about ready to strangle the goat, who simply ignored him and galloped (galloped?) over to me.
"Let's see that arm," he said grimly. I held it out, trying my hardest not to look at it. The satyr let out a small, strangled gasp.
"No," he muttered over and over again, "No, it can't be..." After a few seconds, curiosity got the better of me. I looked at the would, and gasped as well. Instead of the red bloody mess I was expecting, there were only a few small holes in my arm. Thick, gold liquid leaked out of it.
"Ichor," the satyr whispered, "The blood of the gods."
"Wh-what does that mean?" I asked, quietly. The satyr looked me in the eye, a sympathetic look on his face.
"I don't know. I'll have to ask Chiron when we get to camp. I'll doctor this up so we can leave." Mark walked over, a furious look on his face.
"Whoah whoah whoah," he interrupted, "Chiron? Camp? Leave? What the hell are you blabbering on about?" The satyr sighed. "First of all, let me introduce myself. I'm Rowan, and I'm a satyr!"
"I can see that," Mark mumbled, eyeing his goat legs. Rowan shot a glare at him.
"Chiron is a centaur who trains demigods to be heroes. There's a demigod camp called camp half-blood, where Greek demigods can go to be safe. It's in Long Island Sound."
"Long island sound? Demigods? Wouldn't a camp for Greek demigods be in, oh, I don't know, Greece?" Mark asked.
"It was in Greece. But it follows Western Civilization, which is why it's now in New York. You two are demigods, so I'm taking you back to camp. It's my job."
"Oh really, It's your job huh? You seriously expect us to just go with you to a magical summer camp after you tell us were demigods? I'm not buying any of it." Mark crossed his arms.
"Mark," I argued, "I was just bitten by a serpent-lion and I'm bleeding gold. I'm starting to think anything is possible..." Mark sighed.
"I - I guess your right. Plus, if this is a dream, nothing I do will affect me! You know, in real life." Mark said with a small smile. I laughed a little and glanced down at my arm. Rowan had wrapped it in bandages. I couldn't even tell I'd been gushing blood moments before. I examined the wrappings and found myself frowning.
"The bandages are too tight." I instinctively adjusted them. After I was done, I blinked, not really sure what I had done. Rowan examined my work.
"Oh my gods," he muttered, "It's perfect!"
"Really?" I asked, remembering the trouble I'd had with band-aids when I was eight. Rowan nodded.
"I'm assuming your an Apollo kid."
"Apollo kid?" Mark asked, but then his eyes widened. "Oh, right. Demigods. Forgot." I looked at Rowan. He had curly brown hair with little goat horns sticking out the top. His eyes reminded me of a bunny's, sweet, innocent, and absolutely terrified of just about everything.
"Wait a second," I said, "If we're Greek demigods, then why were we attacked by an Egyptian monster?" Rowan frowned.
"I've been asking myself that same question. You two are pretty peculiar, you know that?"
Mark smiled and opened his mouth for what was most likely going to be a snarky comeback, but his eyes widened.
"Oh shit, your pin!" he said, handing it back to Rowan. Rowan shrugged.
"Meh, keep it. One of the Hephaestus campers made it. I figured you two probably didn't have any weapons, so I brought one. Well, I knew Lizz had a weapon-."He clamped his hand over his mouth. I narrowed my eyes.
"Why would you think I had a weapon? I don't have a weapon!" The satyr face-palmed.
"I've already said too much," he said, the sentence muffled by his hand.
"Dude, now you have to tell us," Mark said. Rowan groaned.
"Your adopted father," he told me, "Is a demigod."