XVIII: Keller Might Have Rabies

What scared me more than Connor's rage toward his father, or should I say, Hermes, was his ability to switch it right off as soon as we walked out the door. 

We'd followed him awkwardly after he stormed out, and Nico even did an embarrassing:

"Thank you for your time, Lord Hermes."

Gasper was definitely scared by the yelling, and Nikaea seemed pitiful of Connor. As we caught up to him, I ran a few paces, and carefully tapped his shoulder.

"Connor?" I asked in a mumble, trying to do a comforting smile as best as I could (it wasn't very good). "Are you… okay?"

"Huh? Yeah!" he smiled, turning back to me and getting a strand of my hair tucked casually. "Are you? You seem kinda spooked. Is it 'cause we couldn't get the pegasi?"

That reaction spooked me. It was like he flicked a switch, and poof, his anger was gone. I stared at him blankly for a second, wondering if he was joking. As he awaited for my answer, I came to the conclusion that most likely and very probably, the boy had pretty severe anger issues. Not like, ugh-I-get-mad-so-easily anger issues, but something a bit more similar to the variation, I-never-get-angry-but- when-I-do-I-go-on-a-killing-spree anger issues. 

From my point of view, in that office, Connor was totally ready to throw hands with Hermes. And he said he was indifferent about the bad parenting.

"Er, no..?" I muttered, and my smile turned into a confused kind of… something. "You just seemed kinda mad back there, and like, if you need to talk-"

"Oh, yeah, sorry you guys had to see that, haha." he apologized, scratching the back of his head with a sunny chuckle. "We'll get pegasi somewhere else, I'll think of something, I promise."

"Right! T-take as long as you need, no pressure." stuttered Keller, laughing awkwardly and nodding passionately. "I have no problem with that."

Connor stared at him, and I swear I saw Gasper tremble under that glare.

"Dude. What's up with you today? You're acting weird. I swear you were ruder." Connor laughed, as if nothing had happened and we were the ones who'd gone mad. "I liked you better rude, honestly."

"Haha, right." Keller said awkwardly, before cutting his laugh in half and getting serious. "Kid, you have serious anger issues. You really should consider therapy, get that shit checked out, 'cause, uh, lemme tell you why: you're fucking terrifying."

Gasper was right. The four besides Connor, we all had terrifying aspects. 

Nikaea, a century old nymph, masters the bow, has killed, probably, thousands of monsters with the goddess of the hunt. Nico Di Angelo, a son of Hades, who'd invoked dead soldiers and ghosts more than once, spent his days glooming around literal hell. Gasper Keller, a ruthless mortal who'd once managed to cast a spell that made someone implode, taught by the mysterious goddess of Mist and Kronos himself. Even me, Erica Nakamura, one of the Raven Twins, has tied in battles with Luke Castellan, Percy Jackson, and won against Titans and gods.

But Connor? That guy was on another level, totally. He laughed and pressed the button for the elevator.

"No way you're all scared of me because of what I said to Hermes." he scoffed, as the doors opened and he stepped inside. 

"Yuh uh." Nico nodded, speaking for all of us.

"Oh, sorry. It's just, uh… I had some pent up anger, and I wasn't excited about accidentally going off at some random guy on the street, or, like… one of you guys." he admitted, looking to his feet and shrugging. "Plus, it's not like he didn't deserve it."

From the rest, came a bunch of different types of agreement, at once. "Yeah, fair" from me, "No, that's true though." from Nico, "Fair enough, can't blame you." from Gasper, and a shyer "Hermes can be a bit of an ass." from Nicky. We all looked at each others, and eventually we laughed together.

When we arrived to the ground floor and the doors opened, Hermes was standing in front of us, waiting with his staff on one hand and a bag on the other, looking guilty and remorseful. We quietly all stared at Connor, who stepped out and greeted him as if it was alright.

"Oh, Hermes. Is that bag for us?" he asked, casually, trying to get a peek at its inside. 

"Connor, uhm, I, erm…" was what Hermes managed to say. The snakes on the caduceus covered for him, though.

"Hey, kid." one of them said, and Connor waved at it.

"George, Martha, hi."

"What our boss-sssss here means-sssss," George slithered, its tongue moving like a… I don't know. "this-sssss is-sssss a good luck gift for your ques-sssss-t."

"That's-sssss right. And we don't have pegas-ssss-i, who told you that?" Martha completed, and Connor looked back at Gasper, who put his hands up like he was surrendering. "Anyway, Aris-sss-taeus-sss does, though. His-ssss farm… In Albany. He will sssss-sell you the winged horseys."

"They're called pegas-sssss-i, you retard!" George bickered, hissing at the other one.

"Don't call me that!" Martha bared its two fangs, and tried to bite George.

Before the fight could escalate, Hermes banged the caduceus on the floor, stunning the snakes and returning my attention to the actual people, and not the animals tied on a staff.

"I'm sorry, so– Connor." Hermes apologized, and handed the bag over. "I shouldn't have-"

"Nah, it's fine." laughed Connor, waving his hand in dismissal. All his attention was on the bag. "Is that money? Awesome. Woah, that's a lot of money. Oh, a map. This must be the farm. C'mon, people, let's go!"

Connor chuckled, his face still buried in the bag and commenting on it as we followed him to the door. Before we walked out, he turned around and waved to his father.

"Thanks for the bag, Hermes. Nice gesture."

The god nodded with a smile, and when I turned to look at him again, he wasn't there anymore.

***

"Ugh, this food sucks." complained Gasper, as he stabbed his scrambled eggs with the fork. "Is this all we can afford? Didn't that Hermes guy give Connie like loads of cash?"

His complaining was starting to get to me. That was all he'd been doing since I'd met him again. Complaining about my house, about the bus, about the time, and now about the crappy food of this shitty diner. Maybe he did it as a distraction, but nonetheless I wanted to bash his head into a wall.

Of course, Hermes did give Connor loads of cash, and of course, we could be wasting it all on food, but we're not. Because we have brain cells. Hermes had given his son a bunch of useful things, actually. Jars of differently colored greek fire, healing potions, ambrosia, nectar, and even weird stuff, like good luck trinkets and some strange facemasks.

"it's either that or nothing." Nico shrugged, as he stuffed himself with the suspicious looking sandwich he'd ordered. "Besides, we need to save money. How much did you count, Stoll?" 

"Six hundred american dollars, twelve sacks of drachmas." Connor mentioned, with a wide grin spread across his face. 

"Still, it's at least a ten day trip with five people." I pointed out, as I pushed my plate away. "It'll barely be enough."

"Have you thought about the slight possibility that we can just…" started Gasper, leaning his face too close to me. "NOT PAY?"

Everyone in the diner turned their heads to glare at us, some whispering words of disapproval. With two of my fingertips, I nudged him away from me with a scowl. 

"Do you wanna speak louder?" I scolded, as Connor laughed and apologized for the noise to the other customers. "You're the adult here. Just be a bit responsible, alright? Slightly. Minimally."

"Gee, my bad." he sighed, rolling his eyes. "But I'm just saying, I could use the mist to trick them into thinking we paid. We don't need to actually spend the money that Connie got. I'm sure he cherishes the long due child support from his absent father, and–"

That comment stirred something in me, and, apparently, not only me. A well masked twitch in the son of Hermes's arm told me that Keller's comment had gone over the line and bothered Connor, and that alone was enough to make me lose my cool completely. Perhaps it was the similar experience all demigods shared, that made us understand the others' vulnerabilities. I glanced at the demigod, who gulped and avoided to look at Gasper.

Without leaving space for the mortal to finish his sentence, I slammed my hand on the tabletop, standing up and grabbing his shirt's collar with my other hand. Startled, Gasper dropped the fork, which fell to the floor and made a clanking sound. He was hauled up, and glanced at Nico for help. The son of Hades shrugged and sat back, refusing to aid the sorcerer. 

My hand reached for the dagger at my waist, and I leaned the tip to his chest.

"Mind your mouth, or your second death will be at the hands of a demigod you outranked but underpowered as well." I snarled, as Nikaea shuffled uncomfortably in her seat next to me, tugging on my shirt like a child. A foreign feeling creeped into my skull upon seeing his fear of dying. I smiled, provoking him more for some reason. "You want to be like us, mh? You wish you had a drop of divinity in your blood, but you don't, mortal. This is why you lost to Alabaster."

His joking attitude dissipated, and now his eyes had only spite. Then, he started mumbling in Ancient Greek, his eyes set right on mine as his lips moved ragefully. Before his mantra even ended, I felt a piercing pain in me, as if a needle sewed past my heart and throat. 

"Finish that spell and I'll cut your tongue out." I growled, tightening my grip on the dagger. 

"Fine. I can do this without magic." he let out, and the pain disappeared, as if it'd been dismantled and now fell apart. "Let's settle this shitty score, Nakamura, since you're still so mad I tried to get your faggot of a brother killed."

At the mention of my brother, I felt tempted to bury the knife through his flesh, but, aware of my surroundings, I tried to act calm. I let go of him, sheathing my knife with only a sneer. 

"Sure. I'll punch your silly pride out."

Brusque with his movements, Keller took out his own wallet, laying down a bunch of bills on the table without pulling away from the glare.

"Lunch's on me." he snarled, as Connor nudged away from him uncomfortably. "Back of the diner."

"Sure." I replied dryly, unlacing my dagger and handing it to Alastor, who calmly sat next to Nikaea.

"Hey, you guys, I don't think this is the right time to start fighting, and certainly not because of a comment he made about me." Connor muttered, as he tried to tap Gasper's shoulder. "Xan, are you listening to me?"

"Lord Angelo, stop this, please." implored Nikaea, who nervously seeked his words with distress in her eyes. "One of them might get hurt, and it won't make this quest easier at all!"

Nico was paying more attention to the money on the table. He waved his hand in dismissal, and then called for the waiter. As a man approached our table with the bill, he addressed the nymph.

"It'll be alright. If they don't get it out of their system now they'll be whining with each other for the rest of the trip." 

As soon as the waiter got our bill, I'd grabbed my bag rudely and walked out of the restaurant in loud paces, ignoring the glares from the other customers. Connor quickly followed in a rushed jog, apologizing still. The others were behind, getting their things.

"Erica, why are you doing this?" he asked, as I angrily turned left to get to the back of the diner, as Gasper had said. "You know I'm not that offended, right? I'm fine, you don't need to–"

I turned to him, handing him my bag as we got to the alley behind the diner. The vent spat out the smoke from the kitchen, and there were some trash bags mounted on the floor next to the wall. 

I didn't really know what fed my rage toward Gasper Keller. I did know this rage hadn't started today. I'd simply always hated him: his ambition, his inhumanity, his ruthlessness, his petty jokes. I had old affairs to settle with him. He'd knowingly tried to get me and my brother killed multiple times, sending us to the most dangerous quests so that there wouldn't be resistance to his inputs in the War Council. 

Back then, there wasn't anything we could do. He outranked us, and that was that. But I really did despise him. In one of his attempts to murder me, after Luke had gotten for his lovely swim in the Styx, he'd locked me in a hall full of the daemon soldiers. 

Alabaster and Ethan ran in front of him and carrying Castellan, unaware of my disappearance. I remembered the way he'd smirked, winking before kicking the door closed.

Of course, that attempted killing did not go to more than an attempt, but it did break about half the bones in my body, leaving me limp for weeks and vomiting blood for three nights. As if that wasn't enough, before Kronos' resurrection he'd sent Ethan to the Etna forge, which everyone knew had been hinted to Percy by Hephaestus.

"Connor. It's not just about what he said to you." I explained, with a calmer tone. "Gasper Keller was a bastard when I'd first met him, and seemingly he still is. It's a lot of history to settle." 

"Still, what if you get hurt or something? I mean, he looks fit enough, and-"

"Are you doubting me?" I smirked, just as Gasper showed around the corner. 

He threw his jacket to the floor irritatedly, and slid something glimmery onto his fingers in his pocket. His infamous enchanted brass knuckles. It didn't matter to me. Behind him, Nikaea shook Nico around, asking him to get Gasper to stop. The boy apologized and refused, as he counted the change.

"Stay out of this one, Alastor." I asked, cracking my knuckles. The anemoi flew into a small bird.

"No spells, and I'll beat teeth out of you." he snarled, adjusting his stance. "Don't think I'll go easy on you 'cause you're a girl."

"Don't think I'll go easy on you 'cause you're a mortal." I hissed in return.

He pounced at me.

***

Gasper Keller always had a peculiar way of fighting. When I'd first seen him, he was skinnier than a pile of sticks, and had no training. It seemed like he'd picked up tricks from the streets, but those were pretty flawed, and most of them required some strength he lacked. He'd always made up to his physical weakness with his spells, until he'd met other children of Hecate.

From then on, he became absorbed in leveling up his body, seeking to put on muscle mass. In the Army, he was always either working on his sorcery or working out. However, the goal he seeked was hollow. He'd gotten to look great, but his punches still packed little strength and less technique. 

Maybe it was genetic, or maybe he didn't try hard enough. He'd gotten biceps and triceps, but his shoulders never broadened, his chest never grew, and a rough punch through his abdomen would still leave him lightheaded. Although he tried to convince everyone he'd gotten better physically, he still relied heavily on magic. 

That was evident in every single of his moves, from his reluctancy to let me get closer than his arm's reach to the enchanted brass knuckles worn on his left hand. 

After taking a few of his punches, it was easy to notice the evident fact that my opponent had no strength on his right arm: he was a leftie. He concentrated all the strength he could muster, plus his magical aid on his left. Which was another hint to one of his flaws: prone to tip all his weight on offense, and leave none on defense. He thought that if he got very good on what he was good at, he wouldn't need to be good at what he was bad at. He was wrong. 

In fact, he was making the very same mistakes that'd gotten him killed. Offense was his defense, but he only attacked with his left. His right side was completely exposed, vulnerable and unprotected. Soon I was able to land a high kick on his right shoulder, and he stumbled back.

Before he could return to his stance, I threw strong hooks to the right side of his core, as he gritted his teeth together and tried to block it to no avail. I heard a crack, and he lost his balance with a yelp, stumbling.

"You've learnt nothing from your failures." I gloated, as he fell against a pile of crates. "Still relying on those brass knuckles?"

He got up, and without answering he lunged at me, hauling a punch at my right cheek. He'd been slow, and I ducked it easily, but seemingly he'd predicted it, bringing down his elbow to the back of my neck and his knee to my chin. 

Interesting tactic. My vision became flaky, the impact disorienting me slightly and keeping me in place, allowing him to he elbow my shoulder repeatedly. With a deep breath, I headbutted his stomach with as much might as I could muster, ripping out a groan from him. I repeated it, and this time I impulsed the movement with my legs, throwing him backward and away from me.

He groaned, and I threw a cross to his face at the same time as his fist met my cheekbone. The magic charged rings around his fingers boosted the punch's energy. Pain flared from my face, and it felt as if the bone had caved in. However, as I looked to him with a scowl, I noticed that I too had marked his face, a purplish stain starting to form. 

I analyzed his stance once more. He stood no particular advantage to me. He wasn't more than an inch taller than me, he wasn't as agile or fast as me, and although his strength was greater than mine, I'd gone used to battling opponents much stronger than him. Maybe only his left hand endangered my victory… If I could keep that hand down, it'd become much easier.

When he hauled himself at me again, I kicked his knee hard, getting him to trip down. What I'd failed to notice was his hand around my wrist, and I was dragged to the floor with him. I threw him down so he'd be laying on the floor, and pinned his left hand to the asphalt ground as I cursed. 

"Fuck." he panted, as he failed to throw a punch at me. 

I could hear how tired he was from his breaths, and I saw that I'd likely be able to win in less than five hits.

"Fold." I ordered, in between gasps for air, sneering at him. 

He only smiled, baring his teeth threateningly. He shook his arm from the restraint, and I brought my knee to his elbow, stretching his arm horizontally on the floor. He yapped, but as I repeated myself, he growled:

"I don't fold."

With that response, I kept my knee on his arm, and threw a chain of jabs to his face, as his weaker right arm attempted to stop me and failed miserably. 

"Fold." I said again, as Nikaea gasped and tugged on Nico's shirt again. "Come on. I don't wanna ruin your ugly face for Nicky."

"Gasper, tap out!" Nikaea shouted, the worry apparent in her voice. "Just fold…please."

Instead of following his little girlfriend's advice, he spat a mouthful of blood onto my face. I took a moment to wipe it away, and in that instant his arms reached up, fingers closing around the silver chain I wore around my neck. He pulled the two sides of the string together, cutting my air supply and leaving my hands trying to grasp his closed fists.

I tried to gasp for air, but the noose made from my necklace only tightened, as he smiled viciously and used the chain as a support to pull himself up. My hands nervously scrambled to move away his, and he pushed me down to the floor, reversing the odds.

"I don't fold." he snarled, as my head hit the floor.

His weight was set upon my stomach, and his hands pulled the string further up, marking my neck and threatening to crush my larynx. I looked into his eyes, and saw his cruel smile as my life laid in his hands. I reached and closed my hands around his wrists, sinking my nails into his skin, but it was of no use. 

He would kill me. I thought of tapping out, listening to Connor's distressed shouts that had replaced Nikaea's. He leaned in, whispering a taunting phrase into my ear that widened my eyes and awakened my instincts.

"No wonder your sissy brother died that easily. Ethan couldn't ever go through with anything, the bitchy failure of a traitor. You're both fucking weak."

His words resonated in my skull.

As he laughed and moved up, I bit on his nose, sinking my teeth further in until I tasted his bitter blood. He shouted, letting go of my necklace and bringing his hands to his face. He growled as his hands came off bloodied, and before he could throw his hands at me again, I jerked up and poked my fingers into his eyes, before pulling on his clothes and throwing him to the floor besides me with the help of a nudge with my knee.

"Don't say his name, you unworthy piece of shit." I spat, and this time my punches barely left him time to breathe.

I drew blood from his face, and my knuckles hurt. He tried to move away with no success. I sat on his chest, setting heavy punches on his face and leaving him groaning. The punches came easily from me, my boiling blood putting aside my aching pain and letting the weight from my fists flow down as of gravity.

I didn't stop when I heard his nose crack, and I didn't stop when I felt his fingers on my waist, tapping repeatedly. I didn't stop when he screamed at me to let go, nor when he started shouting at the others to stop me.

"You're going to kill him, Erica." Nico said, as he tried to haul me off of Keller. "Stop, for Hades' sake."

"Lady Nakamura, please stop this." implored Nikaea, her hands on my shoulder trying to pull me away. "He's surrendered already."

They all spoke behind me, their requests ringing through my skull, but the only words I heard were Gasper's. No one said shit about my brother and expected to get away with it. Not when he lived, and much less when he laid dead. No one called him weak. 

Ethan wasn't a failure. Ethan had failed no one. He'd stood up for himself and for what he knew was right, and in the end he'd gone on without regretting his last choice. My brother's name was too good to be in his filthy mouth. 

"Don't talk about my brother." I repeated, my hands dripping with blood while I paused momentarily to wipe the sweat from my forehead. "You don't have fucking morals. You're nothing compared to him, Keller."

"You fucking win, goddamn it!" he shouted, and only then I stopped, standing up and off from him, before falling without balance. 

Connor came to my aid.

"Calm down." he said, watching my rushed breaths. 

I was sitting on the floor, and Connor crouched in front of me, quietly there. He grabbed a napkin from his pocket and wiped the blood and sweat from my forehead. 

My adrenaline settled down in my veins, the unnerved energy calming down and giving place to the aftertaste of a fight. My knuckles were done for, the silver ring was coated in blood, and breathing still felt half strained.

I nodded slowly, before glancing at Keller. His face was covered in purplish stains, his lip cut open, eye swollen, and fresh cuts intersected with the scars all across his body. Safe to say that I'd won.

"Are you alright?" Connor asked, while he helped me stand up. 

"Yeah." I answered, my voice a bit hoarse. I cleared my throat and repeated myself. "Yeah, I'm fine."