Title: City of Demeter's Tree

Genre: fantasy, romance, hurt/comfort

Rating: T for language, mild violence, and some suggested themes

Pairing: JudaiXJohan (spiritshipping); hinted others

Summary: When sixteen-year-old Johan Andersen heads out to the Domino Club, he hardly expects to witness a murder—much less a murder committed by three teenagers with odd powers and brandishing bizarre weapons. Johan knows he should call the police, but it's hard to explain a murder when the body disappears into thin air and the murderers are invisible to everyone but him. Equally startled by his ability to see them, the murderers explain themselves as demigods: a race of creatures with a human parent and a godly parent dedicated to rid the world of monsters, and to stop the wicked Demeter from finding the Seed to her Tree. Within twenty-four hours, Johan's mother disappears and Johan himself is almost killed by a grotesque monster. But why would demons be interested in ordinary mortals like Johan and his mother? And how did Johan suddenly get the Sight? The demigods, and the Olympians, would like to know...

Me: Here is the next chapter, up and running!

Lucy: Johan is heading to get the seal removed from himself so that he can hopefully find out what has happened to his mother and his father. Maybe we'll be lucky and find out something awesome!

CHAPTER NINE: THE ORACLE OF DELPHI

Leaving the Camp was like walking into an oven. Humid air pressed down on the city, turning the air to grimy soup. "I don't see why we couldn't have followed Crowler to get his car," Johan muttered. They were standing at the back entrance of the Camp. The streets were deserted except for a single garbage truck at the other end of the road. "What, is he embarrassed to be seen with demigods, or something?"

"A demigod and a meliae," Judai corrected. "And no. He is a demigod."

Johan suddenly wanted to smack him across the face. "I suppose he went to fetch his chariot, then?"

He meant it sarcastically, but Judai's eyes lit up. "Wow, you're good at figuring this stuff out, Johan. How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess." Johan wasn't in any mood for Judai's jokes. "Look, I think I'd feel better if Samejima or O'Brien or Jim or even Asuka came with me." When Judai turned to him with a hurt expression, Johan ammended, "No, it's not that, Judai. I just really need someone with me who can help me think, and so far, you're still sort of—" He stopped and clapped his hands over his mouth. "Oh, shit! Ruby!"

"No, I'm Judai." Judai smiled. "And sorry, but I don't own any rubies."

"Oh, shut up," Johan replied, but it was more automatic than heartfelt. "I was supposed to call her. God, she's got to be so worried!"

"You're just not getting the spirit of this thing, are you?" Judai asked with a sly smile. "It's Gaea. If you're going to be hanging out with Greeks, you might want to learn the proper slang."

"Fuck you, you demigod asshole!"

"There you go!"

Johan groaned loudly and looked up at the sky. He thought about his mom and dad and wondered of they were all right. "You know," he said, "sarcasm is the last refuge for those with absolutely no creativity, right?"

"I can't help it." Judai shrugged. "I'm not a child of Apollo. Creativity's not my thing."

"Neither is modesty."

"That's a Hephaestus trait."

Just as Johan was about to give in to his desires and slap the sarcasm out of Judai, a golden car with tinted windows rumbled down the street and paused in front of Judai, the engine purring. Itw as long and sleek and low to the ground like a limousine, the windows curved outward.

Judai looked at him sideways, eyebrows raised. Johan rolled his eyes and focused. Suddenly the golden car changed. It had been a glamour all along. Now it was an impossibly huge chariot with a roof. It closely resembled a golden carriage. On the golden metal driver's bench sat Crowler, holding set of reins in his hands. At the other end of the reins were two horses, white as snow, who pawed the ground with their hooves and snarled. Fire crackled from their eyes and off their eight hooves.

"Come on," Judai said. "Hop in."

When Johan continued to stand there, Judai grabbed his arm and pushed him through the open door of the carriage, swinging himself up next. The carriage began to move before Judai even had the door shut.

He fell back against his seat—landing on top of Johan. "That was rude," he called.

Crowler laughed.

"Stuck up ass," Judai muttered. "Remind me to electricity his boxers, will you? That'll teach him."

Johan rolled his eyes and turned to look out the windows. He would've thought that a horse and carriage wouldn't have stood a chance in the traffic, but they were moving down easily, their soundless progression unnoticed by the thrum of taxis, buses, and SUVs that choked the avenue.

In front of them, a yellow cab cut in front of them suddenly. Johan tensed, worried about the horses—then the carriage lurched upward as the horses took to the sky and hopped lightly on top of the cab. Johan choked off with a gasp. The carriage followed up with them, easily, and rolled over the top of the cab as well. The horses landed on the ground, and so did the carriage, only with a tiny jolt.

Johan glanced backward. The cab driver was smoking and staring ahead, utterly oblivious. "I always knew taxi drivers never paid attention to traffic," he said. "I never knew it was this bad."

"You can see through the glamours now," Judai explained.

"Only when I concentrate."

"That'll change once the seal is off you. You'll be a real meliae. Think about it. You'll be silver!" Judai rolled his sleeve up and pressed his arm against Johan's. His skin was darkly tan compared to the flesh on Johan's arm. "It's close right now, but not close enough. And as soon as the seal's off, you'll see the world as it is—infinite."

"Don't quote Blake at me," Johan snapped.

Judai seemed pleasantly surprised. "I didn't know you read poetry. Blake was a son of Apollo, you know. Funny, you didn't strike me as someone who read a lot of poems."

"Everyone knows that quote because of the Doors."

Judai blinked.

"You have a Metallica T-shirt," Johan said slowly, "and you have no idea who the Doors are?"

Judai shrugged.

"Well," Johan said, shaking his head, "I suppose you don't have a lot of time for music, considering what you do."

He laughed drily. "Music's not really that important to a child of Zeus. Fighting and storms, that's what should be important. Music is an Apollo thing. Once it was a Demeter thing, too, but after the Demigod Wars..." He trailed off and didn't really say much after that.

They were rolling through another street now. Johan saw a girl about his own age sitting on the stoop of some abandoned apartment. She had long hair the color of rainwater, and she was leaning against a boy with short hair made entirely of snakes. He looked up at Johan, and his eyes flashed. Both of them were as cloudy as a stormy sky, and Johan knew that he was blind.

"I was seven," Judai said suddenly.

Johan turned to him. "I'm sorry?"

Judai was expressionless, staring out the window at the boy with the snake hair. "I lived with my mother in the country," he explained. "She never told me what I was. One day a Gorgon came, and my mother told me to hide. I hid beneath the stairs. The Gorgon came and turned my mother to stone, shattered her. She was looking for the demigod, and left when she couldn't find it. The broken half of my mother's stone face, the part with her eyes, rolled right in front of me. I stayed there all night."

It took Johan a moment to realize he'd finished speaking, and another to find his voice. "I'm so sorry."

Judai smiled without feeling. "I never understand why humans always apologize for things that aren't their fault." He shrugged lightly. "In the morning, my father came and told me what I was and brought me to the Camp. He sent me the spear a year later. I haven't seen him since."

"Oh." Johan's shoulders slumped. "Is that why you..."

"Hate my father? Mostly." Judai turned to stare at Johan. His eyes were filled with light. "The gods never care about their kids. If you're a warrior, they tend to be a little more understanding, but otherwise they ignore you. I prayed to my father a lot when I was in the Camp. I stopped when he never answered. Lots of kids do after a while. There's not a lot of demigods. We tend to die young."

"But aren't the gods still..." Johan struggled for the right word, and gave up. "Reproducing?"

Judai burst out laughing just as the carriage took a sharp right. Judai braced himself, but Johan was thrown against him. Judai caught him, hands holding him as firmly as possible without hurting him. "Yes," he said, grinning. "The gods are reproducing. They love it."

Johan pulled away from him, his face burning in the darkness. He turned to look out the window. They were rolling toward a heavy wrought iron gate, decorated with twisting golden vines.

"Here we are," Judai announced as the smooth roll of the wheels over pavement turned to a light jounce as they moved over cobblestone. Johan looked out and saw the sign: CHURCH OF A HUNDRED GABLES CEMETERY.

"They haven't used this in centuries," Johan pointed out.

They rolled down a narrow alley with high stone walls on either side. Judai flashed him a gleaming smile. "The Sons of Apollo have been here much longer than an old cemetery. They allowed the humans to use this sacred land as a burial sight, for purposes of redemption."

"Redemption?" Johan asked.

"This is a prison cemetery," Judai said. "Despite the name."

The carriage came to a sudden halt. Johan jumped as Judai reached his arm out, but he was only moving to open the door. His arm was lightly muscled and still a shade or two darker than Johan's.

"There's no choice, is there?" Johan asked. "In being a demigod warrior?"

"If you're a weaker force." The door swung open, letting in a blast of muggy air. "If you're a child of a lesser god, you aren't very strong and the monsters tend to avoid you." The carriage had stopped on a wide square of green grass surrounded by marble walls. "If you're the child of an Olympian, you either learn to be a warrior...or you die."

Johan shuddered.

Judai jumped out of the carriage. Johan slid onto the edge of the seat, dangling his legs. It was a long drop to the cobblestones. He jumped. The landing made his feet sting, but he didn't fall over. He flashed a grin at Judai, who was looking at him with his eyebrows raised. Johan felt jealous. He'd always wanted to do that and had never been able to.

"I would've helped you down," Judai said.

"You didn't have to," Johan said. "I jumped."

"I could see that."

Crowler was descending from his perch behind the horses. "Come along," he said. He glided away from the carriage and comforting lights of the street, moving to the darker center of the garden. A faint glow of gold shimmered around him. Johan and Judai quickly followed him, not wanting to be left behind.

Johan looked around. He'd forgotten where he was going, watching the marble walls instead, and he collided with something hard. He screeched loudly; it made a sharp noise in the enclosed area.

Judai tensed. "Don't do that!"

Johan turned and glared at him. "Why'd you stop? It was your fault."

Instead of answering, he pointed at Crowler, who had stopped in front of a statue just slightly taller than he was. The statue was that of a goddess. The marble of the statue was so smooth it was nearly translucent. The face of the goddess was fierce and beautiful and inhumanly sad. In long white hands the goddess held a sword with words written on it: Έπαινος για τους Θεούς του Ολύμπου.

The sword struck Johan with an odd sense of familiarity. He blinked at it once or twice, but couldn't recall when or where he'd seen it. "Whose sword is that?" He pointed to it.

Judai shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. But that's the motto of the demigods, on it."

"What does it mean?"

Judai's grin was a white flash in the dim light. "It means 'Drop Demeter down a fucking well if you ever see her.'"

"Judai—"

"It means," Crowler said, "'Praise to the Gods of Olympus.'"

"I like mine better," Judai said.

"You would." Crowler sniffed indignantly and stepped forward. He reached out and traced a symbol on the base of the statue with the tips of his fingers—it left a gold residue on the marble. The grassy turf at the base of the statue opened up wide, revealing a set of stairs going down. It looked as if a grave had been dug, but no bodies were meant to go inside. Torches were lit along the sides, bright and luminous.

Judai took the stairs without issue. Halfway to the first torch, he turned back and frowned at Johan. "Are you coming?"

Johan had barely set his foot on the first step when he felt his arm caught in a burning grip. He looked up quickly. Crowler was holding his wrist, his fingers digging into his skin.

"Don't be scared," he said. "The Sons of Apollo are not at all cruel."

When he released Johan's arm, he skidded down the stairs after Judai. His heart pounded against his ribs. Judai was waiting for him at the base of the stairs. He had his hand out and held a tiny ball of electricity there. "You all right?"

Johan nodded. The stairs ended at a shallow landing; ahead of them stretched a tunnel, long and black, ridging with the edges of curling roots. A faint light of gold and red was visible at the far end.

"It's...dark," Johan said lamely.

Judai laughed. "Really? I thought I'd gone blind. Thanks for the reassurance."

Johan kicked him hard in the shin, but he hurt himself more than he hurt Judai. "Don't talk down to me."

"Well, I can't really talk up to you, can I?" Judai ruffled Johan's hair affectionately. He turned to look behind him while Johan angrily fixed his hair. "Well? Lead the way, Crowler. We aren't getting any younger down here."

Johan jumped as Crowler passed in front of them. He ignored Judai's sarcasm and continued down the path. Johan looked at Judai, who shrugged and tripped at the demigod's heels. Johan looked up at the stairs, at the darkness above, and hurried after Judai's retreating back.

Johan's first sight of the Temple of Apollo was of row upon row of marble columns that rose overhead, disappearing into the distance like the rows of trees at an orchard. The marble itself was pure, ash-white, hard-set and solid, set in random places with rubies and amber and gemstones. As they moved along, Johan saw all sorts of strange symbols—more words written in Greek. He looked down and tried hard to recognize the words. His nymph heritage did little for that; he found himself wondering if he would be able to read the symbols when the seal was lifted.

They hurried down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, there was another tunnel, which widened out at the end into a square pavillion. Each corner was marked by a spire of curved amber.

Bright torches blazed around the room, lighting it bright as the sun. In the center of the pavillion was a long table of white marble veined in red. Behind the table was an enourmous silver sword, its hilt carved in the shape of a lightning bolt. Arched over it was a bow and arrow made of iron and bone. Seated at the table was a row of Sons of Apollo, each wrapped in golden robes, hoods up.

Crowler wasted no time. "We have arrived. Johan Andersen, stand before the Sons of Apollo."

Johan glanced at Judai, but he was blinking, confused.

He looked at the table, at the long row of silent figures in their golden robes. Heat radiated off each of them. Just in front of the colorful floor, a large circle in the floor, made of gold, was decorated with ruby stars.

Johan stepped into the center of the circle as if he were stepped in front of a firing squad. He raised his head. "I'm here," he said. "Now what?"

The Sons of Apollo bowed their heads. They made a sound, like a groan or a sigh. The robed figure in the center stood up, and Johan realized that it wasn't a Son of Apollo—it was a woman. She pushed her hood back and revealed her face: bone white, gaunt and thin, completely shaven and bald. Her eyes were sunken and black. The hairs on the back of Johan's neck and on his arms stood on end, painfully. The woman looked down at him, and her lips drew back in a smile that Johan supposed was meant to be kind.

"The Sons of Apollo greet you, Johan Andersen," she said, and her voice was low and tremoulous. It was as if she were speaking with three other people, but only her mouth moved. "I am the Oracle of Delphi."

She reached her hand out—Johan felt as if something were pressing painfully against the insides of his skull.

"Stop!" he said, and to his surprise, the Oracle dropped her hand to her side. "Stop." He looked at the stunned Oracle. "You can probe my mind, but only when I say it's all right."

"If you do not wish for this," the Oracle said gently, "then you do not need to do it."

"I want to do it," Johan said. "But I want to be ready."

The Son of Apollo on the far right templed his fingers beneath his hooded chin. "It's interesting," he said in a gruff voice. "He looks so much like his father. But he has his mother's personallity."

"Yes," said another Son. "He is definitely their child."

Johan grit his teeth. He didn't want anyone poking around inside his head. But he wanted to know who he was. He wanted to have the seal removed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, calming himself down.

"I'm ready," he said.

"All right," the Oracle murmured.

The first contact felt like a hand against his forehead, cool to the touch. He heard the Oracle's voice inside his head, low and gentle. She said, Tell me what your name is.

Johan Andersen, he thought back.

What are you?

I thought I was human. My mom and dad raised me to think that. I found out just recently that I'm a meliae. I don't know what that means. I'm a nymph...but I'm not sure how to be one.

You will, the Oracle reassured gently. Once the seal is gone, you will. Just relax. It will hurt.

What? Johan wanted to ask her again, but then he felt as if his mind had snapped in on itself. He reeled as a flurry of images rose in front of his face. His eyes were closed, but still he saw them as clear as day. His mother and father were hurrying down the streets of some ancient village, dressed in silver robes that matched the tone of their skin. Joshua stood on top of a mountain, dressed in all black, growling like a bear at some creature that dragged itself up the side of the rock after him.

The images came faster now. Johan stood on top of the stairs, and his father stood in front of the door, blocking some woman with bird feathers for hair. He told her viciously that she'd made a mistake and he wasn't Joshua Andersen before slamming the door in her face. The image changed, and he saw his father on the back of a black pegasus, pacing back and forth in front of a line of demigods and nymphs of all kinds. He saw his mother cowering in a hidden room, sobbing as she stitched together a quilt. Then his father faced off against a tall monster woman with leaves for hair and a bark-colored body. He held a sword—the one in the hands of the goddess statue above the Temple of Apollo—in the air and shouted something in Abcient Greek as he charged the woman. His shout echoed in Johan's ears: "Το Δέντρο της Δήμητρας ποτέ δεν θα αυξηθεί και πάλι!"

A sudden pain lanced through his left arm. He cried out as the images fell away and he collapsed upward, breaking through consciousness like a diver. There was a cold sensation against his cheek.

He opened his eyes and saw red. He blinked twice before he realized that he was on the ground. When he moved, pain shot up his arm.

He sat up slowly. The skin over his right elbow was cracked wide open and bleeding—and the blood was lighter and tinted with green. His skin looked silvery pale in the dim light. He glanced around, dazed.

Judai looked at him, his eyes wide, his lips tense.

The words his father had shouted meant something, but he didn't know what. He opened his mouth to ask, but the Oracle seemed to sense what he'd already been thinking. "It means, 'The Tree of Demeter will never rise again.'" She smiled down at Johan sadly. Her dark eyes were pitiful. "Your father hated her more than we thought."

"The seal is removed," one of the Sons of Apollo stated. "Your senses will be dulled, for a short while."

Johan scrambled to his feet, cradling his injured arm. "Did you find anything?" He looked around the room. "About my parents?"

The Oracle shook her head slowly. "There was no memory of anything pertaining to the Seed. If there were, I would tell you." Her head lowered slightly, and she whispered something to herself. Then she raised her head. "One last thing, Johan Andersen, before you go."

Johan looked up. "What is it?"

The voice of the Oracle echoed inside his head. Do not trust the son of Zeus.

"What?" Johan said it aloud. "What do you mean?"

The Oracle said nothing. The other Sons of Apollo got to their feet. The Oracle inclined her head to Judai, a silent acknowledgement, and then she filed out of the room with the Sons of Apollo right on her heels. Only Crowler stayed behind as Judai hurried over to Johan.

"Is your arm all right?" he demanded. "Let me see."

"Ow!" Johan tried to pull his arm back when Judai siezed his wrist. "Yes, it's fine. That hurts! Knock it off, Judai, you're making it worse."

"You bled on the Temple floor," Judai said. Johan looked down and noticed that he was right: a small smudge of red-green blood stained the ruby star closest to where Johan had landed when he fell. "There has to be some kind of rule against that." He turned Johan's arm over slowly, gentler than Johan thought he was capable of. He caught sight of the injury and whistled; Johan saw that the blood caked his elbow and his wrist like a glove. The arm was throbbing, and it hurt like hell.

"Is this where you ruin your shirt to make a tourniquet?" Johan joked.

"If you want me to get shirtless, all you have to do is ask," Judai said with a sly smile. "You don't have to bleed all over the place."

"Whatever. Just bandage me."

"No need. Look."

Johan did. The flesh on his arm slowly sealed itself up. Though the blood was still there a moment later, the cut had completely healed itself. The pain and the stiff sensation were both gone. Johan flexed his silvery arm in wonder—like his blood, it was tinted with the faintest hint of green that he had to squint to see.

Johan felt his lips twitch into a smile. "That's cool. Eerie, but cool."

Judai stood up and held his hand out to Johan. Johan took it gratefully and let Judai pull him to his feet. His senses were still dulled, but he thought he could smell the room better.

Judai turned and grinned darkly. "Crowler," he said. "You've been pretty quiet. Anything to say to our little nymph here, or are you just hoping we both get naked and do a little dance over here? 'Cause I got to tell you, I'm all for that as long as you're paying."

"Don't be an idiot," Crowler snapped. "I was only meant to escort you from the Temple."

"We don't need a guide," Judai said. "I know this place like the back of my hand—hey, when the hell did that freckle get there?"

"The Temple of Apollo is not meant for anyone who does not share the blood of the sun god," Crowler said. "That includes morons who get a swelled head due to the fact that their father can summon a little lightning now and then."

"I'm going to tell him you said that," Judai said. "I hope he comes down and kicks your ass."

"Good luck." With an indignant huff, Crowler led them out of the Temple.

When they emerged into the open, Johan took several big gulps of the thick open air. To him, it tasted different. Smelled different. He wondered, giddily, if his new sense of smell were kicking in.

Judai looked around with a big smile on his face. "It's going to rain."

Johan inhaled, and found that he could smell it. He looked up at the light sky, still as blue as ever. "You're right," he said. "So, are we taking the carriage back to the Camp?"

Judai looked from Crowler, who stood as still as a statue, to the horse-drawn chariot they'd rode up in. It looked like an archway, and the horses snorted and hit the ground with their flaming hooves. He cracked a wide smile. "Nope. I hate this thing more than I hate the Sons of Apollo. No offense to you, Crowler. Come on, let's take a taxi!"

The words of the apparition rang loud and clear in Johan's mind as he watched Judai turn and run down the sidewalk to hail a cab.

Do not trust the son of Zeus.

Me: Oh, no! Why is the Oracle telling Johan not to trust the son of Zeus?

Lucy: And now that Johan's seal is removed, what's going to happen to him? Will he find his mom and dad, and if his mother is the Seed, will he be able to save her in time?