Sons of Zeus (The Warrior Trilogy #1)

The man grunted, then stumbled back, flailing to catch his balance. He regained it a split second before running into the lip of the fountain — then fell backward and made an impressive splash in the churning waters. The people in the crowd around them burst into laughter and applause, just as two men in tunics and armor moved in to take the bald menace away.

Sera held up her hand, wincing with the pain of the punch. “Let’s go find that Aristotle guy,” she said.

Dak had never been prouder.



Riq couldn’t wipe the smile off of his own face, and he hoped he didn’t look too goofy as he and his friends quickly made their escape from the fountain encounter with the scary-looking man who seemed to come from nowhere. Sera had shown plenty of grit over the course of their adventures, but punching a man twice her size — that quickly and that fiercely — had taken the cake.

When they felt as if they were far enough away to avoid any further suspicion or questioning, the three of them stopped to regroup. Riq just looked at Sera in awe, but of course Dak let his thoughts spill out a mile a minute.

“That was awesome!” he yelled, dancing back and forth on his feet like a boxer, throwing out fake punches. “I mean, I knew you had it in you, and I wasn’t surprised at all, but still . . . So cool! I was about to take care of the poor sap myself, but just as well that you did it!”

Sera gave him an amused look and simply said, “Thanks.”

They stood under a tree that was part of a long line bordering the front stairs of what Dak had indicated was the headquarters of the League of Corinth. How someone could know history well enough to figure that out so easily was beyond Riq — but then again, people were baffled beyond measure when they realized he could speak over two dozen languages. Even when he showed off a bit, most listeners still didn’t believe — they just assumed he was putting them on with gibberish.

“How much do we need to worry about that dude?” Dak asked. “You don’t think he’s SQ, do you? Did Tilda get some of her people back to this time somehow? With her Eternity Ring?”

“Seems pretty darn likely to me,” Riq responded. “There’s no way that guy was a local, and he said the words Time Warden.”

“Who knows what Tilda is up to?” Sera murmured. Any look of satisfaction she’d gotten from punching the bald guy’s lights out had long since faded into grim worry. “We just have to hope we’re one step ahead of them. Aristotle was close to Alexander and his dad, so we have an in that she should never be able to get. Let’s just find him and make sure we keep this . . . Pausanius from getting anywhere near his target.”

“Excellent plan,” Dak said. He and Sera both then eyed Riq to see if he approved.

“After you,” he said with an ornate, sweeping bow, stepping aside so the other two could lead the way.

Up the stairs they went.



Things were a little different back in the old days.

Sera half-expected the front entrance to have metal detectors and beefy men and women with guns strapped on their belts to watch for strangers up to no good. Not so, of course. Nothing like it — not even an ancient Greek version. Instead they found an open, breezy atrium without a soul in sight save for a man who had to be a hundred years old if he was ten. He sat at a wooden desk, staring at the huge front doors but not seeing anything. He didn’t blink or budge a muscle when Sera and the others walked in.

Dak started to approach the guy, but Sera quickly reached out and grabbed his arm. “Are you sure we want to bother him?” she asked. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission sometimes. Let’s just go find Aristotle.”

Dak shook his head. “Your lack of Greek political etiquette is embarrassing. Just give me a sec with the old dude, and we’ll save ourselves hours of wandering around like dweebs.”

“Fine,” Sera replied.

“Careful,” Riq butt in. “He might keel over dead if you get him too excited.”

Dak gave him an appalled look, then jogged over to the patron for the League of Corinth. Sera and Riq followed.

“Excuse me, sir,” Dak began. “We’re . . . not from around here, but we have some very — and trust me when I say very, I mean very, very — important information for Master Aristotle.”

“Want to throw in a couple more verys?” Riq whispered. “That’ll get us in for sure.”

Sera elbowed him. She was the only one with official permission to give Dak a hard time.

The old man at the desk acted as if he hadn’t heard a word or seen anyone enter the building. His eyes hadn’t so much as twitched.

“Sir?” Dak asked. “Can you tell us where to find Aristotle?”

Still nothing. They might as well have been talking to a statue. But Sera could see the geezer’s chest moving, although his breaths were very shallow and spaced apart.

Dak shrugged. “Oh, well, at least we tried. So . . . I guess we just start walking around, yelling ‘Aristooooootle, where arrrrrrrrre you?’”

“That oughta do it,” Riq answered.