The Olympian Code: Chapter One

+++

- decode this -

+++

-|- THE OLYMPIAN CODE -|-

+++

Authors' Note - All the characters and places, and the descriptions thereof, may or may not be fictional.

Special Thanks to Reyna for her unreserved help acting as the Consultant of Mythology, all the canons and originals who gave permission to use their characters, and all the suggestions and encouragement the authors received in the shout box.

Another note of thanks to Amidala Weinberg, Ella, and Lucius Darrow, whose witty comments had provided us with material for the writing of this chapter.

- CHAPTER 1 -

Renowned curator Nicholas Lobo crawled through the vaulted archway of the museum's Grand Gallery. His bane was close behind. Just how close, he didn't want to know. He lunged for the nearest painting and pulled it on to himself, setting off the alarm. An iron gate fell nearby, blocking the entrance of the suite. Lobo gasped for breath, taking all the shock that happened this evening in.

Still alive, he thought.

"You shouldn't have done that," said a silky voice behind him.

Stunned, Lobo turned back his head slowly to see the Son of Apollo standing behind him, still holding the dagger that was painted with wool and blood. His blood. On the other hand of the sickly thin man standing before him was something yellow, and it seemed to be melting. He brought it close, too close. The smell hit Nicholas’s nostrils, and he recoiled instinctively.

“Please! Don't!”

“Tell me where it is hidden.”

“There is no such thing!”

The pale man dumped the steaming stuff on to the wound, and Nicholas heard someone screaming in pain, and realized that it was himself. The young man pulled out a stuffed teddy bear key chain and ripped it open. Nicholas was confused - was this some sort of brand new weapon? He looked in the stuffing for some time, and tossed it aside, bringing down the dagger entirely too close to the neck. Nicholas felt the blade pressing against his skin.

“You lie. Your friends have already given up the information. Inevitable death is a strong motivation. They were almost as brave and easy to cut as fresh pies.”

Nicholas felt the world disappear around him. The secret was out then? Centuries of Silence finally broken. With the three sénéchaux gone, it might be the end of their Order. The work of hundreds of loyal men had been put upon his dying hands to protect. He thought that the young man was going to rip his throat as easily as he did with the toy, but he didn't. Instead, his other hand flowed with more of the yellow stuff. The villain saw Nicholas eyeing it, and grinned evilly.

“Turi einai kake.”

He forced the stuff into the curator's mouth. Nicholas tried to swallow it, but it tasted horrible and was searing hot. No matter how much he tried to stop gagging himself, it was no use. It was also poisoned - Nicholas could feel his life slipping away. Cheese was bad. Octavian confirmed it.

“Cheese is bad, monsieur. With you gone in two minutes, I will be the only one with the truth. Die happily with that knowledge, Son of Hades and Traitor.”

And then he was gone.

Leo was laying on a comfortable bed of the Hotel Ritz Paris, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about nothing in particular. He had come for a lecture on Religious Symbology. At the seminar just that evening Leo had gotten the worst introduction he could have ever had, by a certain young woman who seemed to have done a bit of nasty research on him. It was so terrible, that Leo might have shouted “Flame On!!!” and charged her, if he wasn't busy trying to sink into the earth and disappear.

“Ladies and Gentlemen...” she had announced to a full house at the American University of Paris's Pavillon Dauphine, “Our guest tonight is a person who needs no introduction. I had meant to bring him in by his impressive curriculum vitae, but I found some, let's say, interesting facts about the guest. Many people here know that he wrote on Religious Iconology, and many of you use his texts in class. Yet few people know that he also has a certain innate fear of certain long-necked, long-legged exotic pink birds, as well as some kinds of apes and canines. That is quite intriguing considering that we are talking about the same person who can stand against a fire-breathing dragon.”

“Thank you, Amidala,” said Leo, standing up to cut across the girl with his ears burning with shame before she could abuse him a little more with worse details. “If I ever find out who supplied that article to the World Wide Web, I'm going to feed that person to Festus the Dragon with Tabasco sauce.”

“So he's still alive?” asked one of the audience. Leo searched for the speaker, and decided it was one of the two almost-identical boys grinning from ear to ear. They were not too far away from the podium, sitting comfortably leaning back on their chairs. Leo narrowed his eyes at them, and said in the smoothest and the most dangerous voice he could muster, “do you really want to find out?”

His reverie was broken by the telephone ringing. Leo looked at the time. 12:32 A.M., the digital clock said in red neon. Leo picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“ Bon soir, Mr. Valdez,” the caller said. “It’s Lucius Darrow the Concierge. I apologize if I woke you up, but there’s a visitor to meet you. He insists that you meet him right now.”

“It’s past midnight!”

“I know, Mr. Valdez. And I’m sorry to inform you that he just left here to come to your room. It’s an agent from the Direction Centrale Police Judiciaire. Hope you have a pleasant night.”

Leo rolled his eyes. Yeah, a talk with the French FBI really is my idea of the pleasant night. Not. a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Leo rolled out of the bed, put on his suit, and opened the door, keeping the door-chain on.

“Good evening, Mr. Valdez, I’m Lieutenant Ryan Osborne. Sorry to be disturbing you at this time, but dude, you killed the curator. If you come with me, we can go see the body, and after that, we can arrest you if you like. I like getting the jobs done quick.”

Right on cue, Hilary Duff started singing “Found myself today/ Oh I found myself and ran away/ Something pulled me back…” in Leo’s Pink Samsung. “Excuse me, I need to take this call,” Leo said to the officer and closed the door on his face. He walked over to the dressing table and picked up the phone. “Hello? Leo Valdez here.”

“Don’t say a thing. You’re in danger.”

Haha. News flash. It was quite a comforting thing to listen to with a French Officer who liked jobs done quick standing outside the door.

“Go to the bathroom.” Huh?

“Jump out of the window.”

…okay. That made a world of sense. Not.

Leo decided that he needed a wash to get over his sleepiness. He went into the bathroom, and tried to run through the details in his head, with the bar of soap in his hand. His reverie was again broken by the sound of someone banging on the door. Leo was too tired to bother with thinking. He pocketed the soap and jumped out of the fan-light.

One mile away, the lean and pale young man was kneeling in front of a pile of teddy bears. He might have looked like someone who considered himself never too old for soft toys, if it wasn't for the pointed dagger on his hand. The scenery was also slightly spoiled by the white stuffing that was flying around.

“Teacher, I have returned.”

For all the sound in the room, he might have been talking to himself. Another toy was ripped open.

“All of four of them are in the oven. The three sénéchaux, and the Grand Master himself. And I know where they are hiding it.”

Excellent, child. Tell me what I should know.

“It is in Paris. Quite close. Where we always suspected it to be”

That makes sense. You know what to do. I shall make the arrangements.

Octavian sighed and put down the dagger and the soft toys. Ever since he started on this mission, the Reading became harder. Was he losing it? The gift of prophesy that was his birthright?

He cursed himself, closed his eyes, and concentrated. When he opened them again, the whole room seemed to glow golden. No, it wasn't the sun. It was...cheese. Octavian sighed. Why was this stuff ever invented, anyway? He dug in, swallowing as much as possible trying not to feel just how awful it felt.

You're sacrifice has to be willing.

Well, duh. Easy enough for him to say. He didn't have to eat it, Octavian did.

++++++++++ Leo ran to the Louvre, sprinting across the lawns like a lion. He wondered if the lady who called before was at the museum, and even more than that, how she found out his number and knew that he was getting hunted even before he himself did. He hoped that he could get a look at the body without having a police officer breathing down on his neck and handcuffing him before anything else happened. The famous historian and curator of Musée du Louvre was dead? Leo wanted to make sure that it wasn’t someone’s idea of a clever prank.

Unfortunately for him, an officer was standing in front of the Glass Pyramid, waiting for him.

Uh-oh, said Leo's brain. Oh well, unless I either break the law, or break Physics, I guess I have to just wait it out. Running out here to a crime scene might have not been the best choice at the moment.

“Bon soir, Monsieur Valdez,” the stocky and dark man said in a strong French accent, “I sent Lieutenant Osborne to pick you up, but you seem to have taken a trip down yourself. Excellent. I'm Frank Zhang, Captain of the Central Directorate Judicial Police. Please come in."

Leo had no choice except to follow the man down the famous corridors.

"Have you met M. Lobo before today? Do you have any idea why he wanted to meet you? Do you have any idea who might have killed him?" Frank shoot. Leo tried to talk while running to keep up with his long strides.

"No, no and no." He said. Frank gave a low grunt. Leo didn't think that he believed him.

“This way,” Captain Zhang led him, turning sharply right and trotting through a number of interconnecting galleries. There was an echo of voices coming through an alcove to their right. Leo looked around for the origin, and saw a bright light spilling out to the hallway.

“The office of the Curator,’ Frank told him. He peeped into the large room where a number of officers were gathered. “Messieurs, Ne nous dérangez pas sous aucun prétexte. Entendu?”

They were not to be disturbed on any pretext. Leo didn’t like it. It felt like that Frank had already caught him behind the bars. He was a bit too soon to be thinking that thought, as they came to an enormous steel grate not unlike the medieval ones blocking the way.

“After you, Mr. Valdez,” Frank said. After me, where? Leo wondered. Then he saw that the barricade had stopped two feet above the floor. He was still confused. Frank muttered something indistinct, and then he disappeared. Leo jumped back when he saw a massive python at his feet. The snake hissed slightly, and slithered right under the bars. Then Captain Frank Zhang was standing on the other side again, looking like it was no big deal. “Come in,” he demanded.

Slightly nonplussed, and a lot freaked out, Leo bent down to slide under the bars the old-fashioned way. No snakes for him.

Leo didn’t like this guy, or the way he was being led through the corridors like a common criminal. When he was passing another window, Leo threw caution to the wind and broke the window. He jumped out and landed on the earth three stories below. Leo sincerely hoped that he was still in one piece. He started running, before that Captain could change into another freaky animal and start hunting him again.

-

Sister Erin Peake was asleep on her comfy bed of her small bedroom located at the left of the choir balcony, inside the Church of Saint-Sulpice, when the phone rang. Startled and slightly annoyed, she tiredly lifted the receiver. “Soeur Erin Peake. Eglise Saint-Sulpice.”

"Hello, sister."

Erin sat up. It was the abbé. What time is it? She knew the abbé for quite a while now, but he wasn’t a man who would call her in the middle of the night.

"I apologize if I have awoken you, sister," said the abbé, his voice groggy. "But I have a favor to ask you. I received a call from an influential American official. Perhaps you are aware of her?" He told the sister the name.

"Lady Reyna?" Of course, Erin was familiar of her. Their organization was one of the most influential in the world, but they were in hiding. Still, they were going strong, and they continue to inspire hundreds.

"One of Lady Reyna's men will be in Paris tonight," continued the abbé, his voice nervous, "and Lady Reyna called to ask me a favor."

Sister Erin listened to the odd request. She grew confused. "I'm sorry, but can this man come tomorrow in the morning? What I mean is, couldn't he wait?"

"I'm afraid not. His plane leaves early. He has been dreaming to see Saint-Sulpice."

"But the place is more interesting in the day."

"Sister, I agree, and yet I would consider it a personal favor if you let him in tonight."

Erin frowned. "Of course."

"Thank you." The abbé hanged up.

Erin couldn't decide if it would relieve her that it was the organization coming to visit. She felt uneasy with the upcoming visitation. She stayed for a moment on her bed to think. Back in the day when Lady Reyna had not yet taken charge, the organization was one of the most weirdest bunches Erin had ever come across, along with their unusual use of cheese. Thanks to the current Head, their ways had changed a bit, and their usual shenanigans had lessened, and now they were armed with more discipline and respect. Lady Reyna had proven herself fierce among them.

And she could be a formidable foe.

Leo kept running and running through the blocks until a car suddenly blocked his way. His face slammed at the door and then staggered backwards. Why he was still in one piece after a huge impact, he didn’t know. The car door opened, and then stepped out was a woman. While she looked fearsome and pretty, she also looked exhausted.

She offered a hand to Leo and said, “Come on! We have to get out of here!”

Leo didn’t understand what this stranger’s intentions were, but he had no choice. He took the hand and hoisted himself up from the ground. He took a quick look at the vehicle she was riding.

It was the smallest car Leo had ever seen. It was red snub-nosed two-seater. Oh, come on. This has got to be cooler than that.

“SmartCar,” the woman said. “Small, but still fast.”

Leo got inside of the passenger seat and fastened his seat belt when the woman grabbed his shoulder. “Did you see the message?”

“What message?” Leo said, confused. The woman blinked.

“Well, lady, I’m being chased by cops right now. I didn’t have time to see any message.”

“I know that,” the woman said. Her voice sounded familiar. It only took a moment for Leo to register that this was the lady who called him, and told him to jump out of the window.

The woman slapped her forehead. “I should’ve brought the picture,” she muttered.

“Hey, I have one million questions to ask you.”

“No time! Go back to the museum!”

Leo was taken back. “What?” First, this woman was saying that he had to get out of the Louvre. Now she was telling him to go back. Who was this woman?

“Go back and read it. The message! I’ll make a distraction to keep them away from you to give you some time.”

“And how will you do that?”

The weird woman started pushing Leo away from the passenger’s seat, out of the car.

“I’ll meet you in ten minutes, here in the car.”

“But!”

“Go! Use the secret back door.”

“The Louvre has a secret back door?”

“No more questions.”

“Ah, but can I ask for your name?”

“Hazel Levesque. And you don’t have to start introducing yourself because I know who you are.”

Before Leo could say anything, Hazel revved the engine and droved the SmartCar around the corner and parked it.

Leo stood there for a while, shocked. He wondered what kind of mess he had just got into. This couldn’t be a special prank for him, right?

Message, what kind of message? He thought. There was only one thing to do if he were to win an escape from the Louvre. Find the message. Well, obviously, Leo should.

He started sprinting back to the building, his legs already aching for running too long. A hundred of questions swam around his mind. Who killed Nicholas Lobo? Why was the French Police hot on his tail? He didn’t do anything wrong. And this Levesque girl…was she his personal stalker or something?

++++++++++ Hazel was starting to panic. She took a deep breath and stared at the steering wheel for a moment. Then she ducked under the dashboard and picked up her spatha. She stepped out of her little SmartCar.

Only ten minutes, she thought. It wasn't enough.

Hazel was already tired from the day's work, having shadow-travelled back and forth between locations several times. She didn't think that she would survive more than just one tonight before crashing. And hearing the news about Nicholas Lobo...she didn't know how to react to it. And she didn't trust this Leo Valdez dude completely either.

She searched her pockets and felt something. She cursed, and brought out a picture she received from the office. It was a photograph of the curator's body, mouth full of melted cheese. There was a message written on his right, in UV reactive invisible ink:

13 - 3- 2 - 21 - 1 - 1 - 8 - 5 O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint! P.S. Find Leo Valdez

Hazel should have shown this earlier to Leo rather than sending him back to a police-ridden building. The first time he saw the man's name near Lobo's body, she knew he chose him for a good reason. So Hazel ran a Google search with his name, ignoring that she was sending a flare to all the monsters nearby. She learned that Leo wrote a couple of books, and, according to a few sites, there were rumors about him being afraid of primates and canines.

When the news broke a couple of seconds later that Valdez was going to be arrested, Hazel was almost taken back. She knew that his name was there for something else, not for pointing out the murderer. This was her grandfather after all. She knew his ways. She had to do something.

Quickly, she searched around the web for Leo's contact information. It wasn’t easy to get them, but Hazel knew a few useful tricks around to get what she wanted. Then she tried reaching him while driving to the Louvre, where Lobo's body was founded.

Just then she saw a man jumping out of a window, three floors above. How he was able to survive such fall, Hazel would never know.

She unsheathed her sword and marched into the Museum's entrance. If she was going to do some distractions, then she'd better do it with style.

Leo was able to slip back to the Grand Gallery. The spotlight was still blinding him from seeing the body completely. He could hear the French Police’s somewhere near the corridor.

Leo squinted and stepped near the body.

What message? He thought. There’s no message.

Then he noticed a pen besides the dead curator. Carefully, he picked up, careful not to disturb the cheese puddle besides the pen. Gingerly, he examined it. Leo felt guilty of taking something from a crime scene without wearing any gloves, much less asking permission to disturb it. Oh, who cares? He’s already a criminal in pursuit.

After a moment of examination, Leo read the pen’s label: STYLO DE LUMIERE NOIRE. It was a black-light pen designed by museums, restorers, and forgery police to place invisible marks on items.

Leo stood up and looked around. A couple of yards away, there was a carelessly stashed forensic bag. Besides it, a portable work table covered with investigation tools, cables and electronic stuff. Leo moved towards the table and found a UV penlight. Then he searched the walls for the spotlights switch. When he did, he turned it off. The gallery submerged into darkness.

Momentarily blinded, Leo shook his head for a moment. Then he turned the pen on and looked at the walls and floor for any hidden message Lobo wrote. Finally, he spotted it, near the curator’s body, where he first found the black-light pen.

13 -3 – 2 -21 – 1 – 1 – 8 – 5 O, Draconian devil! Oh, lame saint!

Leo couldn’t take his eyes away from the glowing purple message scrolled across the wooden floor. He couldn’t understand it. Before he could decipher what the message is about, he heard footsteps again, but this time it was louder and clearer.

He cursed. The police are around the corner. I gotta get out of here!

But before he could run, a voice echoed. “Don’t move. We have you surrounded.”

Flashlights blinked everywhere. Slightly blinded, Leo squinted through the light and saw the French Police in every corner of the room.

Captain Zhang stepped up and looked at Leo with hard eyes. “You shouldn’t have returned. But it saves the trouble.”

Frank wanted to smile in triumph when his awesome cellular phone crackled like a walkie-talkie.

“Captinaine?” Lieutenant Osborne’s voice came out.

While clenching his teeth, he took out his phone from his belt and pressed the radio transmission button. “Oui?”

“The museum says that we should let them activate the building’s security system.”

“Right now? For what reason?”

“Some reason like sneaking burglars. Their intentions are quite unclear. Should we let them?”

Frank looked back at the stunned Valdez then back to his phone again. “Fine,” he said in French. “We already have our man here.”

A moment later, the lights around the Grand Gallery came on. Officers shielded their eyes from the sudden brightness.

“And also…” Osborne added.

“What now?” Frank groaned.

“We have a problem down at the entrance.”

Frank raised his eyebrow.

“There’s someone who’s trying to take down our officers.”

“I’m sure you can handle that by yourselves, lieutenant?”

“The woman’s wielding a sword, captain. And she’s taking down two officers at one strike. She…might have stolen that sword from the museum’s collection. And—oh, we just identified the woman.”

Frank didn’t say anything.

“She’s…” the voice paused, “she’s from the Cryptography Department, here to decode the message. It’s Agent Levesque.”

For a moment, the captain paled at hearing the person’s name. DCPJ’s greatest mistake had just marched in the Louvre, now more dangerous with a sword. This determined young woman was persistent, and yet skilled. There were some in the office that respected, feared, and despised her.

“It’s pretty shocking she would be coming here going wild with an artifact. And she’s almost impossible to stop.”

“Fine, I’m coming there,” Frank grumbled, and ended the transmission. He ordered half of his men to come with him, and the other half to stay and bring Leo to the curator’s office.

“Don’t get him out of your sight.” He looked at each of his colleagues, and then nodded to his group. They swiftly left the Grand Gallery. The leftover police officers started taking Leo by his shoulders and stirred him to many hallways.