I was right – driving in the Chevelle was like riding a lion.

The car's engine purred like a content pride lion. The seats were cream coloured leather, which heated up to keep me warm in the cold weather. Chloe and I sat behind Hermes as he drove us through the highway to Los Angeles.

Chloe had fallen asleep, which she deserved. Proculus rarely gave us any sleep, leaving us more sleep deprived than ever. We might as well have broken the world record of not sleeping. I left Chloe to her sleep. She looked kind of cute when she's asleep – breathing in through her nose and out of her mouth.

As quietly as I could, I reached into my jacket pocket and brought out my diary. Unclipping the pen, I started to write down in a new page.

November 11th 2012

Day No.73

We made it out.

I still can't believe it. After being in Cyclone City for months, I thought we would never make it. I owe Maximus my life for this.

I don't know if Maximus is still alive or not. An immortal like him cannot be killed, but I just can't get it out of my head. Knowing Proculus, he's probably put Maximus in prison. I hope he'll be okay.

When Chloe and I got into Denver, using Ventus horses in order to get there, we met Hermes. I'm still slightly embarrassed that my sister and I assaulted him. But I'm sure he's forgiven us. He passed me his phone and I actually talked to Zeus. He told me that we should keep running – Proculus is after us, bringing Cyclone City with him. Hermes is still driving us to L.A. as it is.

I'm still slightly shady about going back to that city, after what happened to us the past year ago. I hope Zeus is telling the truth that he would contact Chiron, so none of his students attack us.

I don't really care about that. I only care about getting away from Proculus, so he doesn't use us for the Storm Ritual.

I better go. I'll get some answers in L.A, just as my mother pleaded me to do.

This is Marcus Dimascio, Son of Poseidon and Sarah Dimascio.

Diary Entry No.73

"What are you doing?" Hermes asked me from the driver's seat.

My pen hovered over the diary page, as I looked at the messenger.

"It's called a diary, Hermes. What do you think I'm doing?" I defensively said.

Hermes smiled and looked back at me in the front mirror. "You know, you don't have to be hostile towards me. I'm not Proculus; I did nothing to you."

I looked down in shame. Closing my diary after letting the ink dry, I placed it back in my pocket. "Sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well for over three months now; it's making me feel a tad snappy."

Hermes raised his hand. "It's okay. You're not yourself at the moment. Neither is your sister. I think all that time in Cyclone City made you different in certain ways. You've seen too many horrible things and you've been pushed to your physical limits."

I looked at the car window, watching the world go by. "Proculus has just driven us both over the freaking edge. He's put us up against so many freaking tortures that I can't possibly remember all of them. I had it worse than Chloe, and she refuses to tell me what they did to her."

"Trust me, Marcus," my immortal cousin told me. "When we get to Chiron's school, you'll be alright. Chiron can sort things out."

I leaned backwards and rested my head on the cars backseat cushion. "Man, I love Chevelle's."

Hermes smiled. "I'm guessing you like race cars then?"

"Yeah," I smiled back. "My grandfather has a Chevelle back in Manhattan – an old 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle SS, same model as yours. Though my grandfathers sounded like an angry tiger rather than a lion."

"Ha!" Hermes laughed. "Maybe once we're in L.A., I can loan you the car, since you like these kind of cars so much."

He then frowned and looked at his rear–view mirror to look at me. "I know it's none of my business, but why were you banished from L.A., anyway? Did you do something wrong? Because it sounds like you did."

I shrugged. "They just won't accept children of Poseidon. They say we aren't to be trusted, due to our–What did one of the students say?–violent, unpredictable nature."

I looked out of the window. "I remember walking away from that place, feeling like I didn't belong. And it wasn't because I wasn't anti-social; they were just really hostile towards Chloe and me. Apollo's children; Ares's children; ATHENA'S children most of all. Even your kids were cruel to us. No offence."

Hermes looked disgusted.

He said, "Can't believe even my own children would do that. I thought maybe Charlotte or Dermot would be lenient, but obviously I'm wrong."

I looked back at the car window. "Well...not all of them were cruel. Jake was alright. He's a son of Zeus. And Katie – man, she was kind. She's a daughter of Demeter, so she isn't mean or anything. Both of them looked sorry and shameful, as if everyone else was just being idiots."

"Well," Hermes smiled at me, "most of our demigod children are kind, unlike a few I could mention. I actually met your friend Jake before. A member of the O' Riley family – whoa, those guys are famous in Los Angeles, just like your family is in New York."

The Dimascio family... Our family is one of the most respected families in New York. My grandfather use to tell Chloe and me that our family name was an old mafia family from the island of Sicily, off the coast of Italy. Back in 1942, my great–grandfather helped fight off Germany and Japan in several aerial attacks, earning the respect from many of the officers and the Medal of Honour. He became a retired hero. My grandparents became famous for starting our own Workout Gym in Manhattan. Then my mom became one of the most popular business women in America, mostly catching Poseidon's eye with her beauty and cheeky nature (Don't want to get into that story). Only my whole family knows his actual identity, so we decided to keep it a very guarded secret.

"I don't know," I told Hermes. "Maybe it'll be cool to see Jake again, if Chiron lets us in."

"Oh, don't worry about that," the messenger god promised me. "I'll make sure he does. Now, why don't you get some sleep? It's gonna be a long drive to Los Angeles and you need your strength for the fight that's coming."

I didn't want to, but at the word 'sleep' my eyes felt suddenly heavy. I sat back and was asleep before I knew it. But the worst thing that always happen when you dream – you get nightmares. And I'll tell you – if you are a demigod like me, then you'll have the most terrible dreams.

I was standing in the Throne Room, which had an eerie glow to it thanks to the hearth's light. Proculus sat on the Hurricane Throne, looking somewhat peeved. At the foot of his throne, an assortment of teenagers stood still, looking nervous.

They were afraid that Proculus would kill them on the spot.

In the center of the group was...

"How could you do this to me, Maximus?" Proculus yelled. "I thought you were on my side!"

Maximus looked seriously battered. His face was bruised and bleeding. One of his eyes was black and his armour was dented. His cape was shredded. But he managed to give the Prince a frustrated look.

"Maybe you should've thought about that when you took Marcus and his sister hostage!" he snarled. "I broke them out because they've suffered enough. They deserve freedom more than being caged like wild animals. A freedom that you refused to give them in the first place!"

"TRAITOR!" Proculus roared. "Those foolish kids are a disgrace! Poseidon – my father – chose them instead of me! I'm his favourite child, not them! I'm the Storm Prince for a reason!"

He rolled up his sleeve to show a tattoo on his wrist. He had the picture of a tornado on it and the words below it said:

SGP

Proculus Mathias

The Cyclone Prince

It was odd hearing Proculus's last name. Mathias? That was a weird family name. The only time I have ever heard the name "Mathias" was from that old Total Recall movie - it was kind of boring compared to the new version of it.

Maximus looked at Proculus's arm and pulled a face. "And what good is that worth?"

"EVERYTHING!" Proculus screamed at the general.

"I hold all the power in this city, not you! And I will not have the tributes have their freedom when they are needed for the ritual!"

One of the male teenagers came forward. "My lord, what's so important about them anyway? Why them in particular?"

Proculus nodded. "I've seen power in them. Not only that, but I smelled the blood of Achilles in both of them. That's why they're immune to weapon attacks. That makes them more dangerous than anyone else. That's why I chose them for the Storm Ritual, because it only accepts the most powerful. But now they've escaped our clutches–" He looked at Maximus in pure loathing. "–all because our general felt sorry for them and broke them out."

Achilles...man, how does Proculus know so much about us? Achilles – the legendary Trojan War hero of Greece and the son of Thetis, the Nereid goddess. Mom told me and my sister that we were descendants of the invulnerable demigod a long time ago, which would explain why sharp objects like swords and spears would glance off our skin like it was iron. Proculus must've found out somehow.

The Prince looked back at the group of teenagers. "Your job is to find them – these escapee's – and bring them back to Cyclone City, but I want them alive. If you manage this, you'll be accepted into the Typhoon Army for your reward."

All the teenagers looked at each other and whispered in excitement. I suddenly remembered what Zeus told me. You'll have company along the way. Be careful.

"Don't do this!" Maximus warned. "They'll kill you if you find them! They're armed and lethal! You won't stand a chance."

"Silence," Proculus spat. "Even if they are armed with weapons, they won't stand a chance against so many men. They can't hold them off."

"We're on it, my lord," one the teenager promised the Prince.

Another hunter spoke up, "You can count on us Whirlwind Hunters to bring them back. We won't let you down."

Proculus suddenly looked at me, as if he can sense my presence. "Run all you can, Dimascio. Because whether you like it or not, we're coming to get you, one way or another."

Next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of a beach, looking out at the endless stretch of the Atlantic Ocean. In the distance, I saw Chloe and my mother running through the sea front, laughing loudly as their feet splashed into the water.

I was standing knee deep in the sea front, breathing in the salty air as the waves crashed into the shore line. I was wearing jeans and a plain white top. I was bare foot as the wet sand covered my toes. A barely heard my mother's laughter in the background, though I really wished I did even if I would feel a big pang of grief.

Dad, where are you? I thought to myself. It had been over two months since he disappeared, and yet I still hoped he was in the sea; whenever I'm close to any of his elements, I had a stronger connection to him than ever before.

Where are you? I repeated to myself.

"Marcus," a soft voice spoke behind me.

I turned around and I saw my mother standing in front of me.

She looked as beautiful as I remembered – she had long brown hair, even if it had a few grey strikes and even if it was soaked from the salt water. Her face was starting to show the first signs of age.

But the thing that most made me shake was that her eyes still held that same kindness. Her mouth spread into her small trademark smile.

"Still thinking about your father?" she asked.

Without saying anything, I just nodded, making my raven black hair sway in the wind.

My mother placed her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure he's alright, Marcus. And wherever he is, I'm sure he's thinking about you. You just need to keep faith."

I closed my eyes, thinking about all those years Poseidon spent training me for combat. "I just can't believe he's missing. I thought he wouldn't be in this trouble."

My mother just continued to smile. "You're just like Poseidon – you worry too much, when you shouldn't. That's one of the many things I love about you – you're so much like your father."

Then her voice grew serious. "Just don't take that as a bad thing, son. Your father would say the same thing, which you know is true."

The truth was that she was right – sometimes, I act a lot like my father, and that she sees that as a good thing. The truth about what I thought was completely different – I'm freaked out about it.

I just shrugged, trying to cover up my nervousness.

"Well...let's hope that they're the good things about Poseidon."

"Marcus," a voice whispered.

I opened my eyes, somehow feeling better than ever.

Chloe must've been moving in her sleep, because she was leaning her head on my left shoulder, still dozed off. Hermes was still driving the car.

We were driving through the Rocky Mountain – series of mountains looking like a tidal wave in the process of crashing down on us. In the distance a single mountain rose up higher than the others. Mount Albert perhaps?

"Marcus, something's wrong," Hermes warned.

"What?" I looked out of the back window of the Chevelle. Thick fog made it impossible for me to see through anything, like I was looking through thick soup. Looking up at the sky didn't help at all, because all I could see was pitch black clouds, sealing us in like a coffin. But that wasn't the problem. It was what was coming out of the clouds that got my attention.

"Hermes, drive faster!" I shouted. "Get us out of here!"

Chloe opened her eyes, looking at me in confusion. "What's with all the shouting?"

"We got company!" I told her, pointing out of the window and at the sky.

She quickly took a look and her eyes widened. "Okay, that's more than I thought would be after us."

The car roared as it sped onwards, the wind slapping my face.

Chloe opened the car window, brought her bow out and aimed at the clouds, an arrow appearing on the bowstring.

"What are they?" she yelled at me.

"Whirlwind Hunters," I shouted back. "Hermes, can this thing go any faster?"

"I'm at top speed," he snapped at me. "I can't go any faster!"

Suddenly, there was an explosion and the car was flipped over into the air. I remember feeling weightless; I was no longer bounded by gravity. Then, before I could even think about what just happened, the Chevelle landed on its hood with a loud crash.