Chapter 37 - Student of Circe

It had taken a week to reach Chicago. Their supplies were running low, so the trio pulled over into a small town to restock.

The town was tucked beside a lazy bend in the Illinois River. Banners waved between gas lamps buzzing with late-spring insects. A weekend music festival had transformed the square into a maze of tents, food stalls, and performers. Smooth jazz drifted from a quartet outside a café, while children wove through clusters of festival-goers.

The trio stood still, caught by the sensory overload.

Lucas was the first to snap out of it. He turned and shook the other two.

Seeing the look in Luke's eyes, Lucas sighed, deciding to indulge him.

"I'll go to the shop we passed and gather supplies. You two enjoy yourselves for a bit."

"Are you sure?" Luke asked, though he sounded more thrilled than guilty.

"You two go on," Lucas repeated, gesturing to the nearest motel. "I'll meet you back there in an hour."

Thalia raised a brow. "Be quick."

Lucas nodded and vanished into the crowd, leaving Luke and Thalia to explore the festival.

...

Luke and Thalia walked together, drawn in by food stands and laughter. The sounds of the festival shifted around them, and eventually, a melody pulled them deeper through side streets and into dim alleys.

Three voices harmonized; angelic yet sinful.

They followed.

The music led them through winding lanes until they reached a faded wooden sign that read "The Sirens of Echo Row."

A temporary stage stood at the end of a closed street, lined with old brick. The crowds had disappeared. The music was louder here, not blaring,jsut slow and dreamlike.

On stage stood three women dressed in flowing, earth-toned fabrics. Their faces were veiled in shimmering gold thread. They didn't play instruments, but their voices alone entranced all those who listened.

Luke stopped walking. So did Thalia.

Their eyes grew glassy.

Their thoughts no longer their own.

...

Lucas left the corner store, a bag slung over one shoulder and two more in hand. He was beginning to regret taking this errand alone. He reached their car, tossed in the supplies, locked it, and made his way toward the motel.

When he found it empty, he sighed and crossed the street to grab a burger while he waited.

That's when it hit him.

His instincts lit up, hot, sharp.

He dropped the burger and scanned the crowd.

Then a scent hit him. Rotting Flesh. He turned, following the scent, and something massive shifted atop a building down the road.

A Drakon

Lucas didn't hesitate. He didn't want to endanger bystanders. He turned and made his way through the crowd, cutting across alleys until he reached a rundown stretch of town, forgotten and crumbling.

Here, he would fight.

He had a few seconds before it reached him and it was closing in fast.

A few seconds may not seem long, but for Lucas it was enough to prepare for his performance.

...

From the rooftop, he spotted the Drakon slithering between buildings.

Its emerald-scaled hide was like armor. The serpentine body glided down the alley like a warship. Its breath steamed in the air, and its eyes glowed with predatory malice.

Lucas reached into his coat and drew two of the enchanted throwing knives gifted to him on his birthday.

The Drakon looked up too late.

Lucas moved first.

He launched the knives, one bouncing off its forehead, the other glancing off its spine. He cursed under his breath, he knew Drakons were tough, but it still stung to see how strong.

The creature roared, breathing a cloud of sulfur upward.

Lucas leapt back into the air, but didn't fall.

He landed lightly on thin, invisible wires suspended in the air. Then he vanished in a burst mist.

A Lucas stepped out of the mist, then another, and another. Three. Five. Eight. A dozen Lucases danced around the Drakon, each moving like a phantom.

The beast snapped at them, each attack slicing only mist.

Lucas dropped behind it.

He threw three more knives: one to the underbelly, one behind the knees, and another just under the tail. The attacks bounced, but the last must have truly enraged it.

The Drakon howled and whipped its tail.

Lucas leapt again, bouncing up invisible steps, his wire system strung across the alley like a web giving him versatility in movement. He retreated higher and higher, forcing the beast to give chase.

It fired another stream of breath. Lucas dodged.

He wasn't trying to kill it yet.

He was buying time. Reading it. Wearing it down.

Eventually, the Drakon stopped. It stared at him, fuming, calculating.

Lucas stopped too.

They stared at each other, before Lucas froze, his body still.

A cunning glint flashed through the beast's eyes before it lunged.

It swallowed him whole.

And paused.

Tasted blood.

Divine.

Intoxicating.

Then something went wrong.

Its body began to shrink. Scales fell off like leaves. Fur bloomed where armor once was.

The Drakon trembled, trying to roar, but it was too late.

Seconds later, all that remained was a guinea pig, trembling on the cobblestones.

Lucas stepped from the shadows, holding a small empty flask. He glanced at the blood-stained ground.

"Waste of a pig," he muttered. "Maybe I can buy another on the way back."

He picked up the transformed creature and cast a quick charm to put it to sleep.

"Well aren't you a cutie" He muttered, "Circe would be proud."

He dropped the creature into his coat pocket and looked up.

He held out a hand, snapping his fingers. From across rooftops and alley corners, piano wire whistled as it rewound into a small silver spool at his belt.

Lucas watched the thread coil tight and smiled.

A gift from Silena for what he did during Capture the Flag. She'd somehow convinced the Hephaestus Cabin to make it for him: thin, strong, and nearly invisible. It suited him.

Just then, he heard footsteps.

Turning, he saw a ragged Luke and a red-faced Thalia stumble into the alley, weapons drawn, eyes wide.

Lucas casually raised a hand in greeting.

"You're late," he said.