The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(85)

“Humph,” the man said. “Holy father, boy. I should think you’d know the difference.”

Leo blinked. “Hephaestus?”

Being in the presence of his father for the first time, Leo probably should’ve been speechless or awestruck or something. But after what he’d been through the last couple of days, with Cyclopes and a sorceress and a face in the potty sludge, all Leo felt was a surge of complete annoyance.

“Now you show up?” he demanded. “After fifteen years? Great parenting, Fur Face. Where do you get off sticking your ugly nose into my dreams?”

The god raised an eyebrow. A little spark caught fire in his beard. Then he threw back his head and laughed so loudly, the tools rattled on the workbenches.

“You sound just like your mother,” Hephaestus said. “I miss Esperanza.”

“She’s been dead seven years.” Leo’s voice trembled. “Not that you’d care.”

“But I do care, boy. About both of you.”

“Uh-huh. Which is why I never saw you before today.”

The god made a rumbling sound in his throat, but he looked more uncomfortable than angry. He pulled a miniature motor from his pocket and began fiddling absently with the pistons—just the way Leo did when he was nervous.

“I’m not good with children,” the god confessed. “Or people. Well, any organic life forms, really. I thought about speaking to you at your mom’s funeral. Then again when you were in fifth grade … that science project you made, steam-powered chicken chucker. Very impressive.”

“You saw that?”

Hephaestus pointed to the nearest worktable, where a shiny bronze mirror showed a hazy image of Leo asleep on the dragon’s back.

“Is that me?” Leo asked. “Like—me right now, having this dream—looking at me having a dream?”

Hephaestus scratched his beard. “Now you’ve confused me. But yes—it’s you. I’m always keeping an eye on you, Leo. But talking to you is, um … different.”

“You’re scared,” Leo said.

“Grommets and gears!” the god yelled. “Of course not!”

“Yeah, you’re scared.” But Leo’s anger seeped away. He’d spent years thinking about what he’d say to his dad if they ever met—how Leo would chew him out for being a deadbeat. Now, looking at that bronze mirror, Leo thought about his dad watching his progress over the years, even his stupid science experiments.

Maybe Hephaestus was still a jerk, but Leo kind of understood where he was coming from. Leo knew about running away from people, not fitting in. He knew about hiding out in a workshop rather than trying to deal with organic life forms.

“So,” Leo grumbled, “you keep track of all your kids? You got like twelve back at camp. How’d you even—Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Hephaestus might’ve blushed, but his face was so beat up and red, it was hard to tell. “Gods are different from mortals, boy. We can exist in many places at once—wherever people call on us, wherever our sphere of influence is strong. In fact, it’s rare our entire essence is ever together in one place—our true form. It’s dangerous, powerful enough to destroy any mortal who looks upon us. So, yes … lots of children. Add to that our different aspects, Greek and Roman—” The god’s fingers froze on his engine project. “Er, that is to say, being a god is complicated. And yes, I try to keep an eye on all my children, but you especially.”

Leo was pretty sure Hephaestus had almost slipped and said something important, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Why contact me now?” Leo asked. “I thought the gods had gone silent.”

“We have,” Hephaestus grumped. “Zeus’s orders—very strange, even for him. He’s blocked all visions, dreams, and Iris-messages to and from Olympus. Hermes is sitting around bored out of his mind because he can’t deliver the mail. Fortunately, I kept my old pirate broadcasting equipment.”

Hephaestus patted a machine on the table. It looked like a combination satellite dish, V-6 engine, and espresso maker. Each time Hephaestus jostled the machine, Leo’s dream flickered and changed color.

“Used this in the Cold War,” the god said fondly. “Radio Free Hephaestus. Those were the days. I keep it around for pay-for-view, mostly, or making viral brain videos—”

“Viral brain videos?”

“But now it’s come in handy again. If Zeus knew I was contacting you, he’d have my hide.”

“Why is Zeus being such a jerk?”

“Hrumph. He excels at that, boy.” Hephaestus called him boy as if Leo were an annoying machine part—an extra washer, maybe, that had no clear purpose, but that Hephaestus didn’t want to throw away for fear he might need it someday.

Not exactly heartwarming. Then again, Leo wasn’t sure he wanted to be called “son.” Leo wasn’t about to start calling this big awkward ugly guy “Dad.”

Hephaestus got tired of his engine and tossed it over his shoulder. Before it could hit the floor, it sprouted helicopter wings and flew itself into a recycling bin.

“It was the second Titan War, I suppose,” Hephaestus said. “That’s what got Zeus upset. We gods were … well, embarrassed. Don’t think there’s any other way to say it.”