Third person narration once again. Thank you to Akheilos for pointing out my mistake in the previous chapter. Please review. PS-I've got nothing against police officers, and am not trying to stereotype them or anything. I hope you all like this chapter.

Chapter 8-

Annabeth shot Leo a disgusted look.

"I'm going to go talk to him, you guys go ahead." She said hurriedly. She turned and followed Enrique's path into a room behind them. The door was unlocked. Inside was a twin size bed in the corner, a small T.V so old that it had antennae, and a desk and chair beside the bed. The whole floor was covered with a thin layer of sand. On top of the desk was a collection of papers and books, worn out pencils and one new-looking Mac. There was also one small framed photo. Enrique was at the desk, lost inside of a book with a title in hieroglyphics, the ancient picture writing of the Egyptians. His sword was propped up against the desk like an umbrella.

"Hello Annabeth," Enrique said calmly, not even lifting his head from the book.

"Interesting read?" She asked.

"The Book of the Dead," He said, shutting it and putting it down. "You can take a look at it if you like. Hell, you can keep it, but you'll want the English version. Every thing you'll ever need to know about the afterlife. I was born knowing it word for word in my head. And yet still some things remain a mystery, just out of reach." Enrique gave a hollow chuckle.

"Look," Annabeth said. "I'm sorry about Leo, it's just that sometimes he can be-"

"Incredibly obtuse? I know he didn't know. There was no way he could have known. I would have been frightened if he had." Enrique shook his head. "It's all right, just forget about it."

Annabeth gave a small smile. She stepped closer.

"Who's that in the photograph?" She asked, taking a closer look at the picture. It was of three people, a younger but still recognizable Enrique, an older tan guy with a goatee, and a beaming little kid. They all had their arms around each other's shoulders.

"The older guy was my brother, Carlos, but everyone called him Charlie."

"Was?" Annabeth asked before she could stop herself. Enrique looked down.

"Sorry," Annabeth said quickly.

"No, it's ok. Charlie took care of me. I never knew my mom and I obviously didn't know my dad. He was pure mortal, and he was the closest thing I ever had to a parent. See, he knew about the gods, but he never really, understood them, if you know what I mean. Then one day, I get a phone call. Charlie was at a bar. There was this other guy that started saying things loudly to him, nasty things, that Charlie didn't really agree with. So Charlie to the guy to be quiet. Things got messy, but the other guy threw the first punch. Charlie never took a punch well. It so happened that a couple cops were nearby. They didn't think, they just saw one guy beating up another guy. They shot him. They killed him." Enrique finished bitterly. "It was a short while after that that I went on the run."

"I'm so sorry," Annabeth said quietly, horrified. "Who's this," She said, pointing at the smiling young child. Enrique tensed for a moment.

"That's Javier. Demigod, like me. My nephew. My brother had a kid with Isis, goddess of magic. Then she left, and it was just us. Then Charlie died, and it was me and Javier. We found this place together. We trained together."

Annabeth nodded. "Where is he? Javier, I mean." She asked, and Enrique made a horrible strangled noise. With a gasp, she realized he was biting back sobs.

"Enrique," She said slowly, softly. "It wasn't your best friend the scorpion men killed, was it?"

The son of Anubis slammed his fist against the table, rattling it.

"It was the stupidest thing I've ever done," He said through tortured breaths. "He wanted to come on a raid. I said no, he was too young, only eight. Only eight. He argued. I hated arguing with him. I gave in. He was the son of Isis, I told myself. A major goddess. He can take care of himself. He was going to be one of the best. I told him never to leave my side, to always stay where I could see him. We got separated from the others, surrounded. I turned my back on him for one second." By this point tears were streaming down Enrique's face. "One second. I turned back around-and-and-" He gasped for breath. "It was quick, painless. He wasn't around long enough for the poison in their tails to take effect."

Annabeth was at a loss for words. Then she remembered something that Enrique had said earlier, about certain parts of the book of the dead remaining a "mystery, just out of reach."

"Enrique, you're not trying to, to bring him back, are you?" She said hesitantly, gesturing at the book. "Once someone is gone, they need to stay that way, it's the way it's meant to be-" The moment the words left her mouth she knew she said something wrong.

"Meant to be?" Enrique asked, his voice a cold, hoarse whisper. He stiffened. In one movement, he grabbed his sword and heaved it in Annabeth's direction with all his force. It missed, quivering hilt-deep in the wall. Annabeth stared at him, horrified. She backed away slowly, then turned and ran out the room.

She saw what was out there, and screamed.