Trouble Arrives on a Motorcycle
After jumping through one fireplace and sprinting to the next town for another connection, and repeating that a few times, the whole group finally made it to Denver, where they were supposed to find the next fireplace that would take them somewhere faster and closer.
But this one was the most questionable so far. Out of nowhere, on the map that showed it, the mark simply stopped glowing altogether.
And the moment they reached the place where it was supposed to be, they understood why.
All four of them stood across the street, looking up, unable to get any closer. Why? Massive construction trucks were tearing down an old house, surrounded on all sides by warning signs. For a brief moment, as a huge wrecking ball slammed into the center of the building, Harry managed to catch a glimpse of the fireplace they were supposed to use.
It had already gone completely dead before the wrecking ball hit it.
Meanwhile, Percy listened to the people gathered around, watching the demolition as they talked among themselves. According to the official story, the house had been abandoned for over twenty years, ever since its last owner passed away. Since then, it had been left to decay.
With no one paying the taxes, the bank had taken ownership of the land and the house a long time ago. It was strange it hadn't been demolished sooner, considering how many complaints there had always been about it. People said others had gone inside and never come back out. That, and all the usual stories about it being haunted.
On top of that, it seemed like some kind of reconstruction plan was being carried out across multiple properties in the country, and this house, along with others, was going to be replaced with an apartment building.
After hearing all that, Percy fell silent for a moment, thinking.
"Did you notice that every house with a connector was just as old?" he said suddenly, as an idea began forming.
Harry looked at him.
"And supposedly the wizards here don't even want to deal with non-magical people… so maybe the reason the fireplaces get destroyed, supposedly because they were found by non-magical people, is actually because people think the houses are haunted and just stop paying taxes?" Percy continued, explaining his theory.
And honestly, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Maybe the wizards weren't even the ones destroying them. Maybe the houses were simply being demolished. That would explain why, whenever non-magical people discovered one of these places, they ended up gone.
Not destroyed… just removed like unwanted squatters.
Grover, Annabeth, and Percy all looked at Harry. He met their eyes, then glanced back at the house being torn apart, and… he didn't really have an argument. Percy's theory sounded like the closest thing to the truth.
"I think it's better if we just take the second route like you planned and stop wasting time," Harry said as he sat down, clearly trying to change the subject, a bit embarrassed. Even if they were wizards from different places, he couldn't help feeling a little awkward connecting them to this.
The group started walking through the city, scanning their surroundings as they searched for a bus stop under the dry, slightly hot air.
Still, none of them could stop looking around. The place was surrounded by mountains, which, to Percy, looked like massive frozen waves towering over them.
Meanwhile, Harry pulled out his map to check the direction toward the next fireplace… but the moment he did, his eyes widened, and his face went pale.
Percy noticed immediately and stepped closer. "What is it?" he asked.
"Damn it," Harry muttered, drawing Annabeth and Grover's attention as well. They quickly moved in and followed his gaze.
There, just like the Denver fireplace, another one had started flickering… in exactly the same way.
Which meant one thing.
The same thing happening here… was happening there too.
"Maybe it's the reconstruction plan… or maybe…" Percy said, remembering what he had overheard, but also feeling the timing was far too perfect. "Someone's cutting off our path."
Annabeth didn't waste time thinking about it. She stepped closer to the map and quickly noticed that several fireplaces were flickering now, especially the ones surrounding their current location.
And just like that, all the plans they had made for fast travel started falling apart right in front of them…
"I'm sorry… maybe I should've had more backup plans," he said, guilt creeping into his voice.
But not for long.
Percy suddenly smacked him on the back.
"Don't worry. We still gained a good amount of time thanks to you. If we had traveled the way we originally planned, we probably would've arrived with almost no margin. But now we've got about eight days. I think that's enough," Percy said with a smile toward his brother, then glanced at Grover and Annabeth.
"Well, that's true. The fireplaces helped us a lot. Even when we lost Grover, we still ended up with perfect timing to make it. And there's still the Los Angeles to Santa Monica connection. That's still really useful," Annabeth said, nodding in agreement.
"Yeah. Traveling through connectors is way more comfortable, but when we leave the camp and go into the normal world, satyrs have to take mortal paths. And trust me, they're not exactly pleasant… especially with all the smoke and trash," Grover added.
Hearing his friends and his brother, Harry couldn't help but relax a little, letting out a faint smile.
Then, suddenly, a loud growl echoed… from a stomach.
Everyone turned at once.
Grover froze under their stares, clearly embarrassed.
That alone was enough to ease the tension a little, leaving all of them smiling.
"Well, since we've got some time while we figure out our next move, how about we get something to eat? We're not getting anywhere if we starve," Percy said, and no one could really argue with that.
Still, Percy couldn't shake the feeling that something about all this was off… like they were being boxed in.
…
A few minutes later, the four of them were sitting around a table in a small family restaurant. People around them were eating burgers, fries, and all kinds of junk food.
As they talked about what to do next, a waitress approached, interrupting them.
She looked at them with a raised eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "So? What'll it be?" she asked, not sounding particularly friendly, like she didn't believe four kids like them had money to pay.
"We'd like to order dinner," Percy said, ignoring the obvious disdain.
"You got money for that?" she asked bluntly.
"Of course," Percy replied confidently… before glancing at his brother.
Harry looked back at him for a second, then shook his head with a small shrug.
"Just a moment, please," Percy told the waitress, then leaned closer to Harry, lowering his voice.
"What do you mean no? Don't you have money?" Percy whispered.
"Of course I don't, idiot. I've got pounds, and I doubt they take galleons, sickles, or knuts here. The dollars we have are for tickets. If we spend them, we can't travel," Harry shot back quickly.
Percy turned to Grover, who immediately shook his head hard, like he already knew what Percy was about to ask. His lips trembled slightly, like he might start bleating… or worse, try to eat the floor.
Then Percy looked at Annabeth.
She shook her head too. After all, she already owed Harry money from the books he had bought for her earlier.
"Not a single dollar between four heroes. Incredible," Percy muttered before turning back to the waitress.
The woman looked even more annoyed now, clearly about to throw them out.
But before she could say anything—
A loud rumble shook the entire place.
A massive motorcycle, easily the size of a small elephant, screeched to a stop right in front of the restaurant. The other bikes parked nearby toppled over like dominoes from the vibration alone, clearing just enough space for it to fit perfectly.
The entire place went silent.
The four of them couldn't help but look toward it.
It was huge. Flames painted across the gas tank, a striking red headlight, and on each side… shotgun holsters, with actual shotguns inside. The leather seat stood out the most… not just any leather.
It looked like human skin.
The kind of person you'd cross the street to avoid… without thinking twice.
He wore a red tank top, black jeans, and a black leather jacket. As he got off the bike, he pulled out a large hunting knife and slid it into a sheath at his waist. Behind his red glasses, his face was the most brutal, ruthless thing any of them had ever seen.
And yet…
For some reason, all four of them felt like they recognized him.
Even if Harry and Percy were sure they had never seen him before.
For a brief moment, it felt like his gaze, hidden behind those glasses, locked onto them.
And a smile spread across his lips.
Not a friendly one.
"You're late," he said, before walking straight toward the entrance.