Chapter 52

I Negotiate for Bedtime Stories

Ever stepped in dog poop? Mud? Fresh gum? That's exactly how it felt when I recognized Mark, all those icky feelings rolled up into a single moment of disgust.

"Surprised to see me?" Mark asked.

"You should be dead."

"Should be?" He chuckled. "This is what you get, really. You're such a charlatan, no appreciation for the fine things in life. Like murder. You didn't make sure you finished me off, and now, surprise!" His chains rattled as he did jazz hands with his manacled wrists. "I'm back, baby!"

Kelli left the door, walking around to stand beside me. She was slightly too close, but I was too distracted to shove her away.

"We discovered him west of Cincinnati," she explained. "Some of our troops found him while he was… working. Now, I'm a girl with taste, but even I have to say, his ability to play with his food is highly impressive."

"You're too kind," Mark said.

"I am, aren't I?" Kelli sighed. "A shame you had to go and attack our forces, next. I get the feeling the two of us could've gotten along great."

Generally, Kelli's idea of getting along with boys meant drinking them dry and dropping the bodies somewhere out of sight, and I wondered if Mark knew it, because all he gave her was a polite smile.

"Oh well," he said. "It was just unavoidable. When the great muse calls, who is her humble servant to refuse?"

I hadn't stopped frowning since entering the cell, but I was pretty sure my lips curved further down. "If he attacked our forces, why didn't you kill him? That's the usual response."

Kelli eyed me. Her tongue darted over her lips. "Has anyone ever told you you're attractive when you're ruthless?"

"Not yet. I might've gotten called scary when I'm impatient, though."

"It's because I offered them a deal," Mark said. "Information can be a beautiful thing. Does the name Panhellenic Games ring any bells?"

"As a matter of fact, it does." I crossed my arms. "This thing called a Theoroi cornered me yesterday. He wasn't the politest, but he gave us the whole summary. Which means, I guess, that there's nothing we need you for."

"Really?" Mark said. "I guess you know exactly where they're being held, then. And how to get there."

"We can figure it out."

"Without me? Doubt it."

I was ready to snap at him, but Victoria didn't give me the chance to.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked warily, hanging back by the door. She was a good judge of character, because you could tell she was on edge around Mark. Then again, he wasn't exactly hiding the crazy.

"Oh it's nothing much," Mark said. "Just that the entrance is hidden in one of the most dangerous places on Earth. A place only I can show you to."

"Great," I said. "Then we drag you along, find the spot, and toss you to the nearest trap. Problem solved."

"Not if you ever want to find your way back out," Mark said. "Oh so sorry to break it to you, but you need me. Or, more specifically, you need these."

His chains jangled as he reached across, tapping his temple.

"Your eyes?" Victoria said dubiously.

Mark smiled. "Percy knows this already, old chums that we are, but I'm unusual. A freak. Or a lottery winner— It all depends on your perspective. But the fact is that I'm as mortal as anybody. Not a drop of god blood in me. And yet, I see things as they really are. Monsters. Myths. Mazes…"

All of a sudden a horrible thought dawned on me. Somewhere extremely dangerous, where you need a guide to survive, and not just any guide but a clear-sighted mortal? I knew a place that checked all those boxes.

"No way. It can't— Are you seriously saying the games are in The Labyrinth?!"

"Oh, Percy." Kelli sounded sympathetic, which if anything made things worse. "You didn't think the only reason you were called was because Mark asked for you, did you?"

"Is that even possible?" Victoria asked. "I get that the Labyrinth is big, but an entire stadium?"

"Even if it was only once, you've been down there," I said. "You should get it. It was the very first thing Daedalus told me: The Labyrinth doesn't play by any rules. Things like time, distance, and logic get tossed out the window."

Mark nodded animatedly. "This guy gets it! You can get just about anywhere through those tunnels. Perfect for skipping town when the heat from missing persons cases gets a bit too hot."

I tried hard not to think about Mark had been using the Labyrinth to get away with, mostly because I wasn't sure what I'd do to him if I didn't.

"It does make sense," I had to admit. "The person bringing the games back, whoever they are, probably doesn't want them being interrupted by anything. If they were working for the Olympians they wouldn't have sent a messenger to us, and the gods would definitely mess with something like this if they weren't controlling it. The location was always going to be secret somehow."

"Couldn't the gods bust in anyway?" Victoria asked.

"I mean, they'll probably try something. But the Labyrinth isn't easy to find things inside, even for them. There's a reason Hades never caught Daedalus."

"What about you?" Kelli batted her eyebrows. I got the feeling it was more from habit when talking to boys, rather than more flirting. "Can you find your way around it?"

"I'm probably better at surviving trips," I said. "From experience, at least. But I'd still be totally lost. There's only two ways to know where you're going, and the one I used when I was younger we don't have."

"Where is it now?" Victoria asked.

"Camp Half-Blood?"

She groaned. "The worst place it could be. Got it."

"What about the second way?" Kelli prompted.

I took a second before answering, mostly because I didn't want to admit what it was. "…A clear-sighted mortal."

"Told you," Mark said, rejoining the conversation with a sly grin.

"So you weren't lying." Kelli hummed. "Huh. I guess we might really need you after all."

"You know my terms," Mark said. "My offer is still wide open."

It was clearly a conversation they'd had before. Whatever it was Mark wanted looked like it had him truly excited, just at the thought. That alone made me narrow my eyes.

"What in Hades could you want that we can give you?"

"Quite a lot of things," Mark said. "These chains are really starting to dig into my wrists, so to start with, getting them off would go down a treat. But really, think about it. How much more prolific could I be with the backing of beings like the titans? Already I've had to slow down since you knocked off my teachers. How much more could I accomplish with real support? I'd just love to find out."

I didn't bother responding to that, instead turning to Kelli. "You can't really be considering letting him join us, can you?"

"Oh, Percy, I'm just one humble Empousai. Decisions like these aren't mine to make." She gave a girly giggle that did nothing to convince me she was as helpless about all this as she was letting on. "That aside… I don't really see a problem with it, personally."

"He attacked our troops!" I said.

She shrugged. "I don't know why you're so hung up on that. Didn't you do the same to me?"

"You attacked her?" Victoria asked, looking curious.

"No," I said. "She attacked me and my teacher, which is completely different."

"Tomato tomato," Kelli said, waving me off. "It, like, isn't that big a deal. Bottom line, he's good at killing demigods. And what are we going to have to do a ton of soon? See? Sounds like a perfect match to me."

I almost blurted out 'But he's evil!' before catching myself. That would just be dumb.

Not that he wasn't, of course. But pointing it out to a demon was only going to make her like him more.

"Did you need anything else from me?" I asked sullenly.

Kelli thought about it. "You confirmed Mark here isn't lying, and he got to talk to you like he was whining to… Nope! That should be it!"

In a better mood, I would've waited and double-checked if that meant I was free to leave. Instead, I marched across the slick stone floor as fast as I was capable of without slipping. As the door squealed on its hinges, I felt Mark's eyes burning into my back.

"Come back for a visit anytime!" he called after me. "I'll just be—" the chains holding him up jangled "—hanging around!"

Just when I'd thought he couldn't get any lower, he'd gone and taken up puns.

It was a Tuesday, which meant I was due for a lesson with Daedalus in the afternoon. I was thankful for that, because I figured if there was one person that could help sort out the mess my head was in, it was my teacher.

It only took one step inside his lab to realize, maybe, that he had other messes to sort out first.

"Get me the square root of 77,284. Quick!"

The room was chaos. Stacks of paper rose to the ceiling, and a few had toppled over to coat the floor. Mechanical parts littered the ground. Everything was in motion, screens flickering against the walls and bodies rushing every which way.

Daedalus himself was hunched over a triple-width keyboard with keys for every letter of the English and Greek alphabets, along with a dozen more symbols I couldn't recognize. His fingers were blurs. In front of him, a huge screen ran through numbers long enough to give me a headache.

"Two-hundred seventy-eight," rattled off a voice from the other side of the room. "If you plug that in on the third layer—"

"Exactly," Daedalus said. "What a pleasure it is to have you around."

Rose smiled distractedly. "You have a guest, by the way."

It had taken her and Daedalus approximately thirty seconds to hit it off. That they'd met on a dock, and Daedalus started by complementing The Nautes, probably played a part. From there they'd realized they were both engineers, Daedalus mentioned needing an assistant, and things had spiraled. Even the Daemons got roped in. All of them spent days in the lab, rushing through whatever minor tasks needed doing.

"A guest?" Reluctantly, Daedalus pulled his head away from his work. "Who–" He spotted me. "Goodness. Is it Tuesday already?"

"Bad time?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "But no worse than any other. Rose, could you run through the last of these?"

"I got it," Rose said. Shatterer rushed past her lugging a box of parts, and she grabbed him by the collar, tossing the iPad she'd been using onto his load. "You're helping me with this."

"But I'm busy!" Shatterer whined.

"Of course you are. I just gave you a job."

Daedalus wiped his hands on his pants, leaving oil smears. He snagged his sword from the base of a pile of gears, ignoring the way the rest tumbled to the ground.

"Well," he said, "let's get to this."

He led to way to the door of the lab, and I followed with one last look behind us. Somehow, in one corner, Destroyer had managed to start a minor fire, and Smasher was going red in the face trying to carry a box as tall as he was.

"Will they be alright without you?" I wondered.

Daedalus stepped into the hall. "My work will be fine."

"What about the Daemons?"

He thought about it. "They will be too," he said. "Probably."

"I'm surprised you even let them near your stuff. I thought for sure they would've tried to break something."

"Oh, they did," Daedalus said. "On the first day, in fact. Said something about it being their trademark. But I gave them a little talking to, and now they have a new trademark: hard work."

No wonder the Daemons looked so terrified most of the time when he was around. Whatever Daedalus had done, I could guarantee that "talking" hadn't been much of a part.

Daedalus led the way and I followed, but I knew exactly where we were headed. Since his lab got too cluttered for lessons there was only one place we trained.

Sure enough, we reached the stairs and climbed five flights. Four more minutes of walking and we entered a room that was fast becoming familiar: the stables.

Now, you might be thinking, 'Percy, who puts stables on the sixth floor? That seems like a bad idea.' Normally, it would be. But little things like horses and stairs not mixing kind of go out the window when your horses have wings.

My lord! My lord!

I winced as the smell of hay washed over me, but not because of anything about the room. Instead, it was the half-dozen voices suddenly shouting directly into my brain.

It's great to see you!

There's this itch behind my ear!

Have you brought carrots?

"One at a time, guys, please," I said.

The voices quieted to grumbling, and I sighed.

The Orthrys stables were built in a horseshoe shape. I could never tell if that meant the architect had a sense of humor, or if it was just a coincidence. Evenly spaced along the curves were six twelve-foot by twelve-foot pens, each with its own pegasus inside. One wall was retractable glass with a big metal crank beside it for easy access to the sky. Unlike a plane, pegasi didn't need a runway. They could canter off a lip, flap their wings a few times, and be straight into business.

At the center of the room, between all the stalls, was an open area. Its real purpose was for saddling up before a ride, but with the room not seeing much use it tended to be empty and just big enough for a practice duel. Daedalus drew his sword, walking to one end. I faced him.

"Shall we begin?" he asked.

"Ready when you are."

"Lovely. I hope you haven't picked up any rust."

I didn't waste time pointing out that it had only been one week since our last session. "Do you understand how ironic that sounds coming from you?"

We met in the center. I was faster, but Daedalus had more experience. You always felt like you were fighting him from the palm of his hand.

Gone were the days of him toying with me, though. I wasn't the stray seven-year-old he'd picked up from an alley anymore. For every swing, I had a parry. For every stab I knew how to dodge away. We toured the room, swinging and swiping and weaving.

I probably could've fought even better without our audience.

Go lord, go!

You've almost got him!

I want a carrot!

I would've loved to snap at the horses to quiet down, but I was worried Daedalus would take the opening. And anyway, I felt like we owed them the entertainment. Pegasi weren't designed for cramped quarters like what these ones were stuck with. Not for long periods anyway.

"Tuning them out will help your focus," Daedalus said knowingly.

I did him one better and tuned out his words, too. My next swing, high and aimed for his shoulder, came in so hard that he stumbled backward, and I followed it up right away. There was something cathartic about the way his eyes widened, realizing he didn't have time to talk casually, either.

Good one! the pegasus behind us whinnied. You should give me a carrot if you win!

I did win. Then I lost. Daedalus and I traded matches, knocking the other's swords from their hands or getting inside their guard. I'd love to say I got him more than he got me, but I'd be lying. It was close to a half-and-half split.

Two hours later my shirt was hanging off my torso, saturated with sweat. My breath was ragged. Daedalus never got visibly tired, what with his automaton body and all, but for the last ten rounds he'd been slowing down, getting less sharp as fatigue set in. His clothes were ruffled, cut in places. A nick on his wrist leaked little drops of golden oil. I'd given as good as I got.

"Soon," Daedalus said, "I may have to get back into practicing swordsmanship on my own time. My own student surpassing me, and in a hundredth the time no less. That would just be so…"

"Gratifying?"

"Mortifying," he corrected. "Though, I suppose, you're right in a way. It would mean I was quite the teacher."

I rolled my eyes. Reaching into my pocket, I brought out a packet of sugar cubes and studied them. A few had been crushed during the training, but most were still whole. When they saw them the Pegasi cheered.

Hooray for you, lord! said the closest one, tapping his hooves happily. I like sugar. Sugar is good. Lord brings sugar, so lord is good!

Daedalus watched me feed the winged horses by hand.

"What a benevolent ruler you are," he said.

"I feel like I have to do something for them. It's just sad, seeing them in these little pens all day. And besides, training here means having to listen to them whine."

The pegasus polished off what was in my palm. We don't like wine, lord. Wine is bitter. We like sugar cubes, though! Do you have any more?

"Three per horse," I said. "Those are the rules."

The pegasus reluctantly turned away, trotting to the far side of his stall to bury his disappointment with hay. I faced Daedalus.

"What made you pick this spot, anyway?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Does it not meet your standards? There's plenty of space."

"But there are so many places we could've gone. The training room is designed for duels, and there's always heading outside."

"I didn't know you hated seeing our friends here so badly."

The pegasi started to neigh sadly, and I hurried to get the rest of them their sugar cubes so they'd calm down. No reason to let them take Daedalus's teasing seriously.

"You know what I'm asking."

"Why indeed." Daedalus made a show of thinking about it. "I guess you could call it old memories. Teaching in a stable… it takes me back. It isn't often that I can afford to be sentimental."

"So you've done it before. With who? The daughters of Cocalus?"

Daedalus laughed. "They were lovely girls, just lovely. But they were princesses. If I'd suggested lessons in the stables they'd have been likely to talk their father into putting me out my behind. Far too dirty, too smelly, something along those lines."

I frowned. "Then who was it?"

I knew he'd lived a long time, but most of it was spent hiding. The daughters of Cocalus were the only students he'd ever talked about. If there were others, it had to have been a long, long time ago.

But the pain that sparked across Daedalus's face didn't seem like the buried kind. It looked fresh. Raw.

"My son, actually. And another. I was a very young man, then. So many things had not happened yet."

Unconsciously, his hand drifted to his collar. I'd lived with him long enough to know what was underneath— a bird mark, purple and splotchy, like an ancient burn. Once or twice I'd asked about it, but he always managed to change the topic.

And it wasn't only the mark. Daedalus was a great teacher. He saved my life and raised me, and his lessons had helped me out so many times, keeping me alive. Still, there was one type of question he always dodged: anything about his past.

"What was Icarus like?"

"I'm sure I've told you about him before."

"Not unless you count how he died. I don't care about that right now. I wanna know how he lived."

Daedalus pulled a rag from one of his pockets, beginning to wipe down the edge of his sword. "What do you care about ancient history like that for?"

"Because I'm curious about you."

The answer seemed to surprise him for some reason. He froze, giving me a strange look. "Why?"

"Wouldn't it be weirder if I wasn't?" I shrugged. "You never talk about yourself."

"Well, it's not very interesting," Daedalus said eventually, after a pause. "And that aside, the stories are quite long, certainly more than could be told in a day or two. I don't imagine we'll have much more time than that."

I frowned, letting the second-to-last pegasus slurp up its share of sugar cubes. "How did you…?"

"Know about the mission? Bianca was by yesterday asking for a favor. Unfortunately I couldn't be of much help, but she did mention this so-called Theoroi and its message. She seemed quite confident — determined, even — that you two would end up in the middle of things."

I snorted. "You don't know the half of it."

I told him about meeting Mark, skipping some details to get the point across. By the end one thing was clear to both of us. Whatever else was going on, the Labyrinth was at the center of things.

"Minos will be there," I said. "Whatever he's plotting, I saw him. He's involved in this. And now that he has a body again…"

"He will come for me," Daedalus summarized. "I am aware, Percy. His only admirable quality is perseverance. He swore revenge on me and he has never once forgotten, not over a thousand years. Nothing will convince him to stop, short of successfully destroying me. Already time has failed. Death wasn't enough. And he never cared about causalities when it came to getting his way— that, at least, was the same even in life."

"Casualties like Nico."

"Precisely." Daedalus tilted his head, and I stared into his brown eyes— mechanical replacements for the natural gray ones he'd shed centuries ago, along with the rest of his body. "I am not a good man." He saw me ready to interrupt, and raised a hand to cut off the outburst before it could start. "Let me finish; to explain, at least. Bianca's poor brother is not Minos's first victim in his quest for my head. I pity them. Indirectly, I mourn for them. But when the day ends, and the sun sets, I remain tucked snugly in my hiding places, allowing the tragedy to repeat itself all over again. Condolences are hollow, only actions carry meaning, and I never do— act, that is. So I've no choice but to accept it. I am a bad man."

"I still don't believe you."

Daedalus groaned. "Stubbornness isn't a virtue, Percy."

I almost pointed out that he was as stubborn as I was, before realizing that would basically mean proving his point.

"You saved me," I settled on.

"Indeed I did. But have you ever wondered why?"

I'd loved to say that I'd solved every tiny motive and knew exactly what was going through his head back then. Truth was, I never thought about it much. I mean, at the time, I had been a little kid, and looking at the past was never my strong suit. Usually I had enough current worries screwing my life up…

"Because you wanted some company?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I always got out some. Quick trips were never noticed by the gods. And if I wanted companionship, there were plenty of options that would have brought far less undesirable attention with them."

"None as cool as I am, though. You know you like having me around."

He tried to hide it, but I caught his lips twitch. He never was as good of an actor as he thought he was. Not that I succeeded in lifting his mood.

"It was planned out, Percy, can't you see? From the moment you survived, you were bound to become influential. I merely attached myself to you. Who knows if Kronos' offer would've been nearly so lucrative without our relationship. So, at the end of the day, it was a decision all about me. Those really are the only ones I'm capable of making."

His smile lacked anything that could be considered warm or happy, unless you counted nostalgia. If he expected all this to make me less curious, though, then he had another thing coming. If anything it made my curiosity grow.

"Alright," I said. "Let's say I believe you. Then explain it to me. Tell me how you ended up this way."

Daedalus took the easy way out. "Time is too short. Life stories take more than a day or two to tell."

Only, I was already prepared for that.

My hand had gone to my pocket, and not the sugar cube one. Inside my fingers brushed against strangely warm metal. Gripping a thin chain, I pulled out one of two twin amulets.

"Take it," I told Daedalus, holding out my hand. "It's a charm. Speak into it and I'll hear you, no matter how far away."

Daedalus took it tentatively, as if afraid it would bite. "Where in Gaia did you get this?"

"It was a gift. While I was in Alaska."

Which was true. I just didn't mention it was given to me by a literal Olympian.

"And you're certain it will let us communicate?"

"Like a cellphone, minus the monster swarm."

Daedalus hesitated. I could tell he was close, and went in for the final push.

"I didn't want to bring this up, but technically, you owe me. We had a bet, and I won."

"When—"

"Your plan for me to learn from an Androktasiai. You said it wouldn't work, I said it would. And I came back."

Daedalus shook his head. "That was never a bet. Isn't your coming back safe enough of a reward?"

Mostly, he was right. At the time I'd only been trying to prove to him that his plans could work without getting the people around him hurt, and that was all. But that wasn't why he owed me.

"I was right," I said, "and you brushed it off. I let you do it without rubbing anything in your face, and to me that sounds like a debt. C'mon, this isn't such a bad price, is it? All I'm asking is some stories from the past. You don't even have to give them all at once."

Slowly, resignation washed over Daedalus's face. Whether that was because I'd convinced him or if he'd simply gotten tired of my nagging, I left up in the air– probably the second, though. I hadn't been kidding when I called him as stubborn as me.

"You can be so difficult sometimes," Daedalus said. He didn't say anything else and stuffed the charm down a pocket, but I knew him well enough to recognize that for the acceptance that it was.

There was one pegasus pen I hadn't gotten to yet, but I always left it for last. Carefully setting the last of the sugar cubes on the lip of the stall and making sure they were reachable, I turned back to Daedalus.

"Ready to go?"

Luckily, Daedalus seemed equally ready to leave our little argument in the past. "Not going to feed that last one by hand?"

I cast one more glance at the final stall before making for the door. "Nah, he wouldn't thank me even if I did. Most of the Pegasi aren't happy to be here, but some have definitely taken it harder than others."

I found that out the hard way. As in, if I hadn't been using my metal hand possibly losing a finger hard. And that wasn't even starting on the cursing. Who knew horses could be such pottymouths?

I waved goodbye to the pegasi and heard a chorus of goodbyes, most managing to work in something about sugar. Daedalus and I stepped into the hall, only to find somebody waiting there. That itself wasn't too strange. What was weird was who.

"You train in the stables?" Kate asked, hands in her pockets and watching us eagerly.

"For right now," I said, staring at her. "It isn't so bad."

"Really? I find horses annoying. Far too easily spooked. I wish they'd learn from more trusting animals, like dogs, and relax a tad. It would really make being around them much more pleasant."

I pictured the stables room packed with six Mrs. O'Learys, and nearly winced. I loved my dog to bits, but we'd never get anything done. And if just one of her could slobber enough to leave me soaked…

"Was there a reason you're looking for me?" I asked.

"Sure was," Kate said. "Victoria was calling about… Is something wrong with your teacher?"

"Huh?"

I turned to find Daedalus as white as a sheet. His fingers were trembling so bad, his sword looked ready to clatter to the floor. He stared at Kate as if facing a ghost.

"Daedalus? Helllllooooooo, earth to Daedalus?"

I waved my hand in front of his face until he jerked. His fingers tightened. Straightening, he cleared his throat.

"Apologies," he said. "Something came over me. I didn't mean to worry you two. I am quite busy, though, and I've been away from my work too long already, so if you don't mind I'll hurry on ahead."

"I'll walk you back to the lab," I offered. If he froze up again the way he just had, I wouldn't put it past him to take a fall down a staircase.

But he waved me off. "No need, no need. It was just a momentary lapse. And anyway, it would be a shame to waste your friend's time after she came so far."

"But—"

He was already leaving. I watched his back disappear, not sure what had just happened.

"He's a funny guy," Kate said.

"Apparently. He's not usually—" I shook my head. "Whatever. You said Victoria wanted something?"

Kate smiled. I hadn't known her long, but I could never shake the feeling she was prodding me, seeing which buttons got what reaction. In case you were wondering, feeling like a science experiment isn't all that pleasant.

Of course, I still couldn't tell how much of that was all in my head.

"You could say that," Kate said. "Word came in from the top, the Bronze Regiment is sending four members on some big mission. It's top-secret and all, super important, which means we just have one more thing we need to do. It's time to choose who's going."

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