O C E A N U S

C H A P T E R S I X

( frosty the snow bitch )

⟶⬩⬥⬩⟵

          JASON DIDN'T WANT to leave Leo, but he was starting to think that hanging out with Cal the hockey jock might be the least dangerous option in this place.

As they climbed the icy staircase, Zethes stayed behind them, his blade drawn. The guy might've looked like a disco-era reject, but there was nothing funny about his sword. Jason figured one hit from that thing would probably turn him into a Popsicle.

Then there was the ice princess. Every once in a while she'd turn and give Jason a smile, but there was no warmth in her expression. She regarded Jason like he was an especially interesting science specimen—one she couldn't wait to dissect.

Then she would glare at Malia with such hatred and coldness that Jason was surprised Malia hadn't been frozen solid. However, the daughter of Poseidon just glared back, her lips pulled down in a frown and her hands clenched into fists at her side. Something must've happened between the two of them, he was sure. She'd met the ice princess before, and it had not gone well.

If these were Boreas's kids, Jason wasn't sure he wanted to meet Daddy. Annabeth had told him Boreas was the friendliest of the wind gods. Apparently that meant he didn't kill heroes quite as fast as the others did.

Jason worried that he'd led his friends into a trap. If things went bad, he wasn't sure he could get them out alive. Without thinking about it, he took Malia's hand for reassurance.

The girl's eyes softened from their glare and she gave his hand a soft, gentle squeeze.

"It'll be fine," she promised. "Just a talk, right?"

At the top of the stairs, the ice princess looked back and noticed them holding hands. Her smile faded. Suddenly Jason's hand in Malia's turned ice cold—burning cold. He let go, and his fingers were smoking with frost. So were Malia's. The daughter of Poseidon glared up at the snow princess with such hatred, he thought the girl would explode.

"Warmth is not a good idea here," the princess advised, "especially when I am your best chance of staying alive. Please, this way."

Malia grumbled multiple Greek curses under her breath. "Frosty the snow bitch seriously needs to get her jealousy under control. Gods, I'm gonna stab her one of these days."

Jason chuckled under his breath and nudged her. The two were completely oblivious to Piper watching them with curious eyes as the trio followed after the ice princess, Zethes holding his sword behind them. They followed the ice princess down a massive hallway decked in frosty tapestries.

Freezing winds blew back and forth, and Jason's thoughts moved almost as fast. He'd had a lot of time to think while they rode the dragon north, but he felt as confused as ever.

Thalia's picture was still in his pocket, though he didn't need to look at it anymore. Her image had burned itself into his mind. It was bad enough not remembering his past, but to know he had a sister out there somewhere who might have answers and to have no way of finding her—that just drove him up the wall.

In the picture, Thalia looked nothing like him. They both had blue eyes, but that was it. Her hair was black. Her complexion was more Mediterranean. Her facial features were sharper—like a hawk's.

Still, Thalia looked so familiar. Hera had left him just enough memory that he could be certain Thalia was his sister. But Annabeth had acted completely surprised when he'd told her, like she'd never heard of Thalia's having a brother. And Malia had looked so shocked when the ice princess said his last name. Did Thalia even know about him? How had they been separated?

Hera had taken those memories. She'd stolen everything from Jason's past, plopped him into a new life, and now she expected him to save her from some prison just so he could get back what she'd taken. It made Jason so angry, he wanted to walk away, let Hera rot in that cage: but he couldn't. He was hooked. He had to know more, and that made him even more resentful.

Malia had said he and Thalia were a lot alike. He wondered if she could tell him more about his sister, since she knew more about Thalia than anyone else on the quest.

"Hey." Malia touched his arm. "You still with us?"

"Yeah. . . yeah, sorry."

He was grateful for Malia. He needed a friend who hadn't been on that bus when he'd first woken up. A friend who didn't already have preset memories of him and who he was. He took notice of how her eyes seemed to shimmer in the watery light of the penthouse suite, how they looked like millions of oceans swirling together. Despite the anger she had toward the princess, she still looked insanely beautiful.

He knew now that his relationship with Piper had been a trick of the Mist. He didn't feel that way toward the daughter of Aphrodite. Sure, she was beautiful, too, but not in the way that Malia was. Any feelings he had toward her were platonic. Nothing more and nothing less.

Though, he had to yell at himself to stop thinking that way. It wasn't fair to Malia, calling her attractive in his mind and picturing a life with her. Jason had no idea what was waiting for him back in his old life—or who might be waiting. But he was pretty sure his past wouldn't mix with Camp Half-Blood. After this quest, who knew what would happen? Assuming they even survived.

At the end of the hallway they found themselves in front of a set of oaken doors carved with a map of the world. In each corner was a man's bearded face, blowing wind. Jason was pretty sure he'd seen maps like this before. But in this version, all the wind guys were Winter, blowing ice and snow from every corner of the world.

The princess turned. Her brown eyes glittered, and Jason felt like he was a Christmas present she was hoping to open.

"This is the throne room," she said. "Be on your best behavior, Jason Grace. My father can be. . . chilly. I will translate for you, and try to encourage him to hear you out—"

"That's unlikely," Malia mumbled.

"—I do hope he spares you. We could have just fun," the princess finished, glaring at Malia.

Jason guessed this girl's definition of fun was not the same as his.

"Um, okay," he managed. "But really, we're just here for a little talk. We'll be leaving right afterward."

The girl smiled. "I love heroes. So blissfully ignorant."

Piper rested her hand on her dagger. "Well, how about you enlighten us? You say your're going to translate for us, and we don't even know who you are. What's your name?"

The girl stiffened with distaste. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you don't recognize me. Even in the ancient times the Greeks did not know me well. Their island homes were too warm, too far from my domain."

"Could you stop with the internal monologue, jeez." Malia rolled her eyes. "This is Kevin, goddess of frozen water."

The princess's eyes blazed white for a moment. Piper laughed under her breath and Malia smirked.

"You insolent little demigod! I have half a mind to turn you into a statue!" the princess screeched.

"By looking me in the eye? Please, that's an insult to Medusa's looks." Jason had to hold a hand over his mouth to keep himself from cracking up.

The princess seethed for a moment before calming down. "I am Khione, daughter of Boreas, goddess of snow."

She stirred the air with her finger, and a miniature blizzard swirled around her—big, fluffy flakes as soft as cotton.

"Now, come," Khione said. The oaken doors blew open, and cold blue light spilled out of the room. "Hopefully you will survive your little talk."

⟶⬩⬥⬩⟵

If the entry hall had been cold, the throne room was like a meat locker.

Mist hung in the air. Jason shivered, and his breath steamed. Along the walls, purple tapestries showed scenes of snowy forests, barren mountains, and glaciers. High above, ribbons of colored light—the aurora borealis—pulsed along the ceiling. A layer of snow covered the floor, so Jason had to step carefully. All around the room stood life-size ice sculpture warriors—some in Greek armor, some medieval, some in modern camouflage—all frozen in various attack positions, swords raised, guns locked and loaded.

At least Jason thought they were sculptures. Then he tried to step between two Greek spearmen, and they moved with surprising speed, their joints cracking and spraying ice crystals as they crossed their javelins to block Jason's path. Malia and Piper jumped in surprise, almost impaling themselves with Zethes's sword.

From the far end of the hall, a man's voice rang out in a language that sounded like French. The room was so long and misty, Jason couldn't see the other end; but whatever the man said, the ice guards uncrossed their javelins.

"It's fine," Khione said. "My father has ordered them not to kill you just yet."

"Super," Jason said.

Zethes prodded him in the back with his sword. "Keep moving, Jason Junior."

"Please don't call me that."

"I don't know," Malia smirked. "I kinda like Jason Junior. What about you, Piper?"

Piper laughed behind her hand. "Oh, yeah. Definitely."

"My father is not a patient man," Zethes warned, "and the beautiful Piper, sadly, is losing her magic hairdo very fast. Malia's beauty is being tainted by every word that comes from her mouth. Later, perhaps, I can lend Piper something from my wide assortment of hair products, and freeze Malia's mouth shut."

"Thanks," Piper grumbled.

Malia tensed and sent Zethes a look. "Touch or talk to me again, and I'll throw your twig-like ass out the window, so help me gods!"

Jason pulled Malia back by her hand. They kept walking, and the mist parted to reveal a man on an ice throne. He was sturdily built, dressed in a stylish white suit that seemed woven from snow, with dark purple wings that spread out to either side. His long hair and shaggy beard were encrusted with icicles, so Jason couldn't tell if his hair was gray or white with frost. His arched eyebrows made him look angry, but his eyes twinkled more warmly than his daughter's—as if he might have a sense of humor buried somewhere under that permafrost. Jason hoped so.

"Bienvenu," the king said. "Je suis Boreas le Roi. Et vous?"

Khione the snow goddess was about to speak, but Piper stepped forward and curtsied.

"Votre Majesté," she said, "je suis Piper McLean. Et c'est Jason, fils de Zeus. Et voici Malia, fille de Poseidon."

The king smiled with pleasant suprise. "Vous parlez français? Trés bien!"

"Piper, you speak French?" Jason asked.

Piper frowned. "No. Why?"

"You just spoke French."

Piper blinked. "I did?"

The king said something else, and Piper nodded. "Oui, Votre Majesté."

The king laughed and clapped his hands, obviously delighted. He said a few more sentences, then swept his hand toward his daughter as if shooing her away.

Khione looked miffed. "The king says—"

"He says I'm a daughter of Aphrodite," Piper interrupted, "so naturally I can speak French, which is the language of love. I had no idea. His Majesty says Khione won't have to translate now."

Malia grinned at the king. "Oh, thank the gods."

Behind them, Zethes snorted, and Khione shot him a murderous look. She bowed stiffly to her father and took a step back.

The king sized up Jason, and Jason decided it would be a good idea to bow. "Your Majesty, I'm Jason Grace. Thank you for, um, not killing us. May I ask. . . why does a Greek god speak French?"

Piper had another exchange with the king.

"He speaks the language of his host country," Piper translated. "He says all gods do this. Most Greek gods speak English, as they now reside in the United States, but Boreas was never welcomed in their realm. His domain was always far to the north. These days he likes Quebec, so he speaks French."

The king said something else, and Piper turned pale.

"The king says. . ." She faltered. "He says—"

"Oh, allow me," Khione said. "My father says he has orders to kill you. Did I not mention that earlier?"

Jason tensed. The king was still smiling amiably, like he'd just delivered great news.

"Kill us?" Jason said. "Why?"

"Because," the king said, in heavily accented English, "my lord Aeolus has commanded it."

Boreas rose. He stepped down from his throne and furled his wings against his back. As he approached, Khione and Zethes bowed. Jason, Piper, and Malia followed their example.

"I shall deign to speak your language," Boreas said, "as Piper McLean has honored me in mine. Toujours, I have had a fondness for the children of Aphrodite. As for you, Jason Grace, my master Aeolus would not expect me to kill a son of Lord Zeus. . . without first hearing you out."

"Which means he'd have no issues killing some lousy daughter of Poseidon," Khione commented.

Malia whipped around, her eyes a storm. Jason could have sworn he saw lightning flash across her irises as the waves raged, matching her mood. "You little—"

"Malia," Jason whispered, pulling her back around by her hand that was tightly locked in his own. "Not now. You can kill Khione after we survive this."

Malia met his gaze and he watched the torrents die down in her eyes. She nodded stiffly. "I'm holding you to that, Hercules."

Jason nodded, feeling his heart skip as she slipped her fingers in between his own, holding his hand properly. His gold coin seemed to grow heavy in his pocket. If he were forced to fight, he didn't like his chances. Two seconds at least to summon his blade. Then he'd be facing a god, two of his children, and an army of freeze-dried warriors.

"Aeolus is the master of the winds, right?" Jason asked. "Why would he want us dead?"

"You are demigods," Boreas said, as if this explained everything. "Aeolus's job is to contain the winds, and demigods have always caused him many headaches. They ask him for favors. They unleash winds and cause chaos. But the final insult was the battle with Typhon last summer. . ."

Malia's grip tightened on Jason's hand as she sucked in a sharp breath. Boreas waved his hand, and a sheet of ice like a flat-screen TV appeared in the air. Images of a battle flickered across the surface—a giant wrapped in storm clouds, wading across a river toward the Manhattan skyline. Tiny, glowing figures—the gods, Jason guessed—swarmed around him like angry wasps, pounding the monster with lightning and fire. Finally the river erupted in a massive whirlpool, and the smoky form sank beneath the waves and disappeared.

"The storm giant, Typhon," Boreas explained. "The first time the gods defeated him, eons ago, he did not die quietly. His death released a host of storm spirits—wild winds that answered to no one. It was Aeolus's job to track them all down and imprison them in his fortress. The other gods—they did not help. They did not even apologize for the inconvenience. It took Aeolus centuries to track down all the storm spirits, and naturally this irritated him. Then, last summer, Typhon was defeated again—"

"And his death released another wave of venti," Jason guessed. "Which made Aeolus even angrier."

"C'est vrai," Boreas agreed.

"But, Your Majesty," Piper said, "the gods had no choice but to battle Typhon. He was going to destroy Olympus! Besides, why punish demigods for that?"

The king shrugged. "Aeolus cannot take out his anger on the gods. They are his bosses, and very powerful. So he gets even with the demigods who helped them in the war. He issued orders to us: demigods who come to us for aid are no longer to be tolerated. We are to crush your little mortal faces."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"That sounds. . . extreme," Malia ventured. "But you're not going to crush our faces yet, right? You're going to listen to us first, 'cause once you hear about our quest—"

"Yes, yes," the king agreed. "You see, Aeolus also said that a son of Zeus might seek my aid, and if this happened, I should listen to you before destroying you, as you might—how did he put it?—make all our lives very interesting. I am only obligated to listen, however. After that, I am free to pass judgement as I see fit. But I will listen first. Khione wishes this also. It may be that we will not kill you."

Jason felt like he could almost breathe again. "Great. Thanks."

"Do not thank me." Boreas smiled. "There are many ways you could make our lives interesting. Sometimes we keep demigods for our amusement, as you can see."

He gestured around the room to the various ice statues.

Piper made a strangled noise. "You mean—they're all demigods? Frozen demigods? They're alive?"

"An interesting question," Boreas conceded, as if it had never occurred to him before. "They do not move unless they are obeying my orders. The rest of the time, they are merely frozen. Unless they were to melt, I suppose, which would be very messy."

Khione stepped behind Jason and put her cold fingers on his neck. "My father gives me such lovely presents," she murmured in his ear. "Join our court. Perhaps I'll let Piper McLean go."

"What about Malia?" Jason asked, holding tight to the girl's hand beside him.

Khione sent the daughter of Poseidon a look. "Oh, she'll join our court. Just so I can smash her to pieces and put her in her rightful place."

Malia's grip on Jason's hand tightened as she grew angry, but Jason rubbed his thumb along her knuckles, which seemed to calm her down. Gods, what had happened between Khione and Malia to make them hate each other so much?

"What?" Zethes broke in. "If Khione gets this one and that one, then I deserve the other girl. Khione always gets more presents!"

"Now, children," Boreas said sternly. "Our guests will think you are spoiled! Besides, you moved too fast. We have not even heard the demigod's story yet. Then we will decide what to do with them. Please, Jason Grace, entertain us."

Jason felt his brain shutting down. He didn't look at Malia or Piper, for fear he'd completely lose it. He'd gotten them into this, and now they were going to die—or worse, they'd be amusements for Boreas's children and end up frozen forever in this throne room, slowly corroding from freezer burn.

Khione purred and stroked his neck. Jason didn't plan it (or maybe he did, but he wouldn't admit to it), but electricity sparked along his skin. There was a loud pop, and Khione flew backward, skidding across the floor.

Malia laughed out loud, throwing her head back as Zethes laughed along with her. "That is good! I'm glad you did that, even though I have to kill you now."

For a moment, Khione was too stunned to react. Then the air around her began to swirl with a micro-blizzard. "You dare—"

"You bet your frosty little ass he dared," Malia said, wiping tears of joy from her eyes. "Oh, I'd pay to see that happen again. Gods, that was amazing!"

Khione gave Malia a frosty glare. "Why you little half-blood! I'll turn you into slush!"

Malia set her jaw. "I'd like to see you try."

"Stop," Jason ordered, with as much force as he could muster. "You're not going to kill us or turn Malia into slush. And you're not going to keep us. We're on a quest for the queen of the gods herself, so unless you want Hera busting down your doors, you're going to let us go."

He sounded a lot more confident than he felt, but it got their attention. Khione's blizzard swirled to a stop. Zethes lowered his sword. They both looked uncertainly at their father.

"Hmm," Boreas said. His eyes twinkled, but Jason couldn't tell if it was with anger or amusement. "A son of Zeus favored by Hera? This is definitely a first. Tell us your story."

Jason would've botched it right there. He hadn't been expecting to get the chance to talk, and now that he could, his voice abandoned him.

Malia and Piper saved him. "You Majesty." Piper curtsied again with incredible poise, considering her life was on the line. She told Boreas the whole story, from the Grand Canyon to the prophecy, much better and faster than Jason could have. Malia piped in from time to time, filling the gaps of Piper's memory with her own versions of the story.

"All we ask for is guidance," Malia concluded. "These storm spirits attacked my friends, and they're working for some evil mistress. If we find them, maybe we can find Hera."

The king stroked the icicles in his beard. Out the windows, night had fallen, and the only light came from the aurora borealis overhead, washing everything in red and blue. Malia looked utterly breathtaking in the light.

"I know of these storm spirits," Boreas said. "I know where they are kept, and of the prisoner they took."

"You mean Coach Hedge?" Jason asked. "He's alive?"

Boreas waved aside the question. "For now. But the one who controls these storm winds. . . It would be madness to oppose her. You would be better staying here as frozen statues."

"Hera's in trouble," Jason said. "In three days she's going to be—I don't know—consumed, destroyed, something. And a giant is going to rise."

"Yes," Boreas agreed. Was it Jason's imagination, or did he shoot Khione an angry look? "Many horrible things are waking. Even my children do not tell me all the news they should. The Great Stirring of monsters that began with Kronos—your father Zeus foolishly believed it would end when the Titants were defeated. But just as it was before, so it is now. The final battle is yet to come, and the one who will wake is more terrible than any Titan. Storm spirits—these are only beginning. The earth has many more horrors to yield up. When monsters no longer stay in Tartarus, and souls are no longer confined to Hades. . . Olympus has good reason to fear."

Jason wasn't sure what all this meant, but he didn't like the way Khione was smiling—like this was her definition of fun. Jason could have sworn that Malia had stiffened beside him.

"So you'll help us?" Jason asked the king.

Boreas scowled. "I did not say that."

"Please, Your Majesty," Piper said.

Everyone's eyes turned toward her. She had to be scared out of her mind, but she looked incredibly confident—and it had nothing to do with the blessing of Aphrodite. She looked herself again, in day-old traveling clothes with choppy hair and no makeup. But she almost glowed with warmth in that cold throne room. "If you tell us where the storm spirits are, we can capture them and bring them to Aeolus. You'd look good in front of your boss. Aeolus might pardon us and the other demigods. We could even rescue Gleeson Hedge. Everyone wins."

"She's pretty," Zethes mumbled. "I mean, she's right."

"Father, don't listen to her," Khione said. "She's a child of Aphrodite. She dares to charmspeak a god? Freeze her now!"

Boreas considered this. Jason slipped his hand in his pocket and got ready to bring out the gold coin. If things went wrong, he'd have to move fast.

The movement caught Boreas's eye. "What is that on your forearm, demigod?"

Jason hadn't realized his coat sleeve had gotten pushed up, revealing the edge of his tattoo. Reluctantly, he showed Boreas his marks.

The god's eyes widened. Khione actually hissed and stepped away.

Then Boreas did something unexpected. He laughed so loudly, an icicle cracked from the ceiling and crashed next to his throne. The god's form began to flicker. His beard disappeared. He grew taller and thinner, and his clothes changed into a Roman toga, lined with purple. His head was crowned with a frosty laurel wreath, and a gladius—a Roman sword like Jason's—hung at his side.

"Aquilon," Jason and Malia said, though where Jason had gotten the god's Roman name from, he had no idea. He assumed Malia knew since she studied Roman mythology, but the god seemed surprised by her knowledge.

The god inclined his head. "You recognize me better in this form, yes? And yet you said you came from Camp Half-Blood?"

Jason shifted his feet. "Uh. . . yes, Your Majesty."

"And Hera sent you there. . ." The winter god's eyes were full of mirth. "I understand now. Oh, she plays a dangerous game. Bold, but dangerous! No wonder Olympus is closed. They must be trembling at the gambled she has taken."

"Jason," Piper said nervously, "why did Boreas change shape? The toga, the wreath. What's going on?"

"It's his Roman form," Jason said. "But what's going on—I don't know."

The god laughed. "No, I'm sure you don't. This should be very interesting to watch."

"Does that mean you'll let us go?" Piper asked.

"My dear," Boreas said, "there is no reason for me to kill you. If Hera's plan fails, which I think it will, you will tear each other apart. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again."

Jason felt as if Khione's cold fingers were on his neck again, but it wasn't her—it was just the feeling that Boreas was right. That sense of wrongness which had bothered Jason since he got to Camp Half-Blood, and Chiron's comment about his arrival being disastrous—Boreas knew what they meant.

"I don't suppose you could explain?" Jason asked.

"Oh, perish the thought! It is not for me to interfere in Hera's plan. No wonder she took your memory." Boreas chuckled, apparently still having a great time imagining demigods tearing each other apart. "You know, I have a reputation as a helpful wind god. Unlike my brethren, I've been known to fall in love with mortals. Why, my sons Zethes and Calais started as demigods—"

"Which explains why they are idiots," Khione growled.

"Stop it!" Zethes snapped back. "Just because you were born a full goddess—"

"Both of you, freeze," Boreas ordered. Apparently, that word carried a lot of weight in the household, because the two siblings went absolutely still. "Now, as I was saying, I have a good reputation, but it is rare that Boreas plays an important role in the affairs of gods. I sit here in my palace, at the edge of civilization, and so rarely have amusements. Why, even that fool Notus, the South Wind, gets spring break in Cancún. What do I get? A winter festival with naked Québécios rolling around in the snow!"

"I like the winter festival," Zethes muttered.

"My point," Boreas snapped, "is that I now have a chance to be the center. Oh, yes, I will let you go on this quest. You will find your storm spirits in the windy city, of course. Chicago—"

"Father!" Khione protested.

Boreas ignored his daughter. "If you can capture the winds, you may be able to gain safe entrance to the court of Aeolus. If by some miracle you succeed, be sure to tell him you captured the winds on my orders."

"Okay, sure," Jason said. "So Chicago is where we'll find this lady who's controlling the winds? She's the one who's trapped Hera?"

"Ah." Boreas grinned. "Those are two different questions, son of Jupiter.

Jupiter, Jason noticed. Before, he called me son of Zeus.

"The one who controls the winds," Boreas continued, "yes, you will find her in Chicago. But she is only a servant—a servant who is very likely to destroy you. If you succeed against her and take the winds, then you may go to Aeolus. Only he has knowledge of all the winds on the earth. All secrets come to his fortress eventually. If anyone can tell you where Hera is imprisoned, it is Aeolus. As for who you will meet when you finally find Hera's cage—truly, if I told you that, you would beg me to freeze you."

"Father," Khione protested, "you can't simply let them—"

"I can do what I like," he said, his voice hardening. "I am still master here, am I not?"

The way Boreas glared at his daughter, it was obvious they had some ongoing argument. Khione's eyes flashed with anger, but she clenched her teeth. "As you wish, Father."

"Now go, demigods," Boreas said, "before I change my mind. Zethes, escort them out safely."

They all bowed, and the god of the North Wind dissolved into mist.

⟶⬩⬥⬩⟵

Back in the entry hall, Cal and Leo were waiting for them. Leo looked cold but unharmed. He'd even gotten cleaned up, and his clothes looked newly washed, like he'd used the hotel's valet service. Festus the dragon was back in normal form, snorting fire over his scales to keep himself defrosted.

As Khione led them down the stairs, Jason noticed that Leo's eyes followed her. Leo started combing his hair back with his hands. Uh-oh, Jason thought. He made a mental note to warn Leo about the snow goddess later. She was not someone to get a crush on.

At the bottom step, Khione turned to Piper. "You have fooled my father, girl. But you have not fooled me. We are not done. And you, Malia Jackson, you will soon be a puddle of melted snow at my feet. Where you rightfully belong."

Malia flipped the goddess off. "Fuck off, Kevin."

She turned on her heel and walked over to where Leo stood. Khione seethed. "You evil little cockroach, you!"

"Suck my massive imaginary dick, Jack Frost," Malia called over her shoulder, making Jason crack a smile.

Khione turned on Jason. "Jason Grace, I will see you as a statue in the throne room soon enough."

"Boreas is right," Jason said. "You're a spoiled kid. See you around, ice princess."

Khione's eyes flared pure white. Fore once, she seemed at a loss for words. She stormed back up the stairs—literally. Halfway up, she turned into a blizzard and disappeared.

"Be careful," Zethes warned. "She never forgets an insult.

Cal grunted in agreement. "Bad sister."

"She's the goddess of snow," Jason said. "What's she going to do, throw snowballs at us?" But as he said it, Jason had a feeling Khione could do a whole lot worse.

Leo looked devastated. "What happened up up there? You made her mad? Is she mad at me too? Guys, that was my prom date!"

"Gods, Leo, you could do so much better than that dollar store version of Elsa," Malia said, rolling her eyes. "And we'll explain later."

Malia glanced at Jason as she said that, and he realized she expected him to explain.

What had happened up there? Jason wasn't sure. Boreas had turned into Aquilon, his Roman form, as if Jason's presence caused him to go schizophrenic.

The idea that Jason had been sent to Camp Half-Blood seemed to amuse the god, but Boreas/Aquilon hadn't let them go out of kindness. Cruel excitement had danced in his eyes as if he'd just placed a bet on a dogfight.

You will tear each other apart, he'd said with delight. Aeolus will never have to worry about demigods again.

Jason looked away from Malia and Piper, trying not to show how unnerved he was. "Yeah," he agreed, "we'll explain later."

"Be careful, pretty girls," Zethes said. "The winds between here and Chicago are bad-tempered. Many other evil things are stirring. I am sorry you will not be staying. You two would make lovely ice statues, in which I could check my reflection."

"Thanks," Piper said. "But I'd sooner play hockey with Cal."

"Hockey?" Cal's eyes lit up.

"Joking," Piper said.

"Don't worry, Cal. I'll come back and play hockey with you someday," Malia promised, which seemed to make Cal's day.

Piper pursed her lips. "And the storm winds aren't our worst problem, are they?"

"Oh, no," Zethes agreed. "Something else. Something worse."

"Worse," Cal echoed.

"Can you tell me?" Piper gave them a smile.

This time, the charm didn't work. The purple-winged Boreads shook their heads in unison. The hangar doors opened into a freezing starry night, and Festus the dragon stomped his feet, anxious to fly.

"Ask Aeolus what is worse," Zethes said darkly. "He knows. Good luck."

He almost sounded like he cared what happened to them, even though a few minutes ago he'd wanted to make Piper and Malia into ice sculptures.

Cal patted Leo on the shoulder. "Don't get destroyed," he said, which was probably the longest sentence he'd ever attempted. "Next time—hockey. Pizza."

"Come on, guys." Jason stared out at the dark sky. He was anxious to get out of that cold penthouse, but he had a feeling it was the most hospitable place they'd see for a while. "Let's go to Chicago and try not to get destroyed."

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A U T H O R S   N O T E

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I hope my comebacks for Khione made you laugh. I've been thinking them up for hours. Malia and Khione do not get along at all, and the answer to that will be in the next chapter. She has an interesting past when it comes to the snow goddess. It's fun, I promise.

Please comment and vote!

I love you guys!

~ a.h.