APPARENTLY, DC HAD A HARPY INFESTATION the same way Philly had a Laistrygonian problem. Malnourished, gaunt faced with sunken eyes, he might've felt bad for them if they weren't intent on scratching his eyes out. Or screaming "vengeance for Kronos!" at the top of their unfortunately very humanoid lungs.

In reality, the fight didn't last long. Alex killed two Harpies, Ophelia one, and this Quinn fellow two more as well. Soon, they stood on the terrace of the Kennedy Center overlooking the Potomac River, breathing heavily, surrounded by celestial bronze tipped arrows and the last bits of monster ashes floating to the ground.

"I haven't seen that many harpies in one place in ages," Quinn said. He held his bow down by his side. "Who the hell are you?"

"We're on a quest from Camp Half-Blood," Alex said. He had no interest in divulging the reasons behind their quest, but if Thalia's Intel was right, this man who looked about mid thirties might be their only shot. "The Hunters of Artemis pointed us your way."

He broke into a smile half way between a smirk and a grin. "Oh did they? Can't believe Lady Artemis would send you to one of us."

"Us?" Ophelia said.

Alex turned to check them over. Ophelia looked fine. Great, really. Face flushed with life from the shadows, Stygian dagger still strapped to her hip, and clean Camp Half-Blood shirt tucked into her dark grey, ripped jean shorts. Kitty seemed fine too. She looked good in the grey and white camo tee that the Hunters had given her. It went well with her blue hair. So, all in one piece.

"A son of Apollo," Quinn said. He laughed a little. "Come on. Let's head inside. Pretty sure the Kennedy Center is monster free right now."

Alex overheard Kitty mumble "pretty sure" but no one commented on it. He kept his hand clasped over Vindication on his wrist. Sure they'd fought harpies together. But he had fought harpies with plenty of demigods Alex figured wouldn't mind killing him now.

After all, he was a traitor to both camps. And where had this guy been during the war against the Titans? Not on either side apparently. Thalia's vote of confidence only meant so much. Very little, actually.

They followed Quinn up some stairs to a set of offices. The first on the left was his. Spacious walls contained various instruments on display. Sitting on a large, black desk was a little lamp with three, moveable heads. There was also a clunky laptop but it seemed to have a layer of dust on it. The triangular prism name tag on his desk looked to be made of glass or crystal, with "Quinn Coleman" etched into the surface and inlaid with gold.

"Take a seat," he said. "I gotta make a quick call."

Alex leaned against the wall, allowing Kitty and Ophelia to take the chairs. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching Quinn settle into his leather desk chair. It became apparent that the crystal prism name tag wasn't for the opulence that Alex associated with Apollo. He watched Quinn place the prism on a tiny shelf unit, angle one of the little lamps towards it, and moments later a rainbow splashed onto the far, empty wall.

He took a drachma from a drawer and tossed it towards the rainbow. "Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Isabela Canales."

Moments later appeared the bright smiling face of a dark tan skinned young woman, dark brown hair thickly curled and falling around her chest. Sweat beaded across her brow.

"Broki! Where are you!" She gestured over her shoulder, where the faintest sound of Latin music could be heard. "I got Thao to come with us tonight."

"I'm gonna need a raincheck, Issie."

"Oh no no no. No," she said. "You don't get to do this again. You know how hard it is for me to get off a Saturday night? Are you fucking kidding me? You're ditching me again?" She fell into mutterings of Spanish as she took a drink.

Alex had never heard someone talk so fast in his life. Honestly, that was a skill.

"Look, I got accosted by some of Chiron's."

The woman's brown eyes widened. "Campers?"

"Yeah. So I'll call you, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. But nodded. "Loser."

The Iris message faded. The room descended into silence for a moment before Quinn turned back around.

"Who was that?" Kitty said.

Quinn let out a small laugh. He shook his head. "Isabela Canales, daughter of Hermes. Works PR for Monumental Sports and Entertainment."

Alex froze. He grabbed Vindication tighter. That had been his half sister?

"We've been trying to get together with our buddy who works at Georgetown Law. But it's hard to coordinate schedules, and Thao isn't the biggest fan of the crowds we enjoy running in." He smirked. "But anyways. We'll drag him to some parties eventually."

"He's a Half-Blood too?" Kitty said.

"A son of Athena." He looked them over. Turning to Alex, he said, "You're a son of Hermes, if I've ever seen one. You look kind of like him, and the caduceus is a dead give away. But you two I can't figure out."

"Proud daughter of Tyche, thank you very much," Kitty said, putting her feet up on the very edge of Quinn's black desk. "Goddess of fortune, luck, etcetera etcetera."

"Right." He frowned at her boots on the desk but didn't say anything else. Instead, he turned to Ophelia. "You?"

"Daughter of Hecate," she said.

Alex watched Quinn for any reaction. Only the briefest hesitation followed, and no snide comments.

"How many demigods live in DC?" he said.

Quinn glanced up at him. Leaning back in his chair, he shrugged. "Not sure. Thao, Issie, and I graduated from Camp Half-Blood in the same year. Quite a few though. A city away from Olympus full of politicians, universities, fine art centers, and corporate businesses? A hotspot for monsters and Half-Bloods alike. No one lives here who can't take care of themselves. It's like swimming with sharks."

"And no one fought in the war?" Kitty said.

Quinn actually laughed. He sat up straighter. Elbows on the desk, he leaned closer. "First off, kid, you think New York was the only city being attacked? But in reality, we're all adults with adult jobs and adult responsibilities and honestly, most of us can't be bothered to clean up our parents' messes. I'm more worried about getting my sister Anaïs's musical greenlit than if our father wants two more voices in his choir."

"The Hunters said you have information on disappearing spoils of war," Alex said. He pushed himself off the wall, holding himself to full height. He didn't love the gods any more than most of these DC demigods either but they had a job to do. This adult with adult responsibilities could either help them or they'd move on. "We're on a quest to retrieve the Lyre of Orpheus."

The change in Quinn happened instantly. His disbelieving smirk fell. He stood up, standing a couple of inches shorter than Alex, mouth open but unspeaking. He glanced between them and then back. "They didn't choose a child of Apollo?"

"No. But you have information?" Alex said.

Quinn nodded. "Yeah. That's what I've been doing in my free time for a decade." He stopped joking, stopped teasing. "If you're serious about this, then yeah I can help."

"We're quite serious," said Ophelia.

Quinn moved out from behind his desk. He went to the door, opening it a bit and poking his head out. Alex felt a chill run down his spine. What did Quinn expect to find? Satisfied, the man took his seat again. Alex moved to lean against the door.

"There's a group calling themselves Trigon." Quinn took a deep breath. "As far as I can tell, they've been running a black market for ancient artifacts, spoils of war, and other goods from Olympus for years."

"How?" Kitty said. "Wouldn't the gods have stopped them?"

"Shouldn't Hermes stop them?" Alex snapped. If any of the gods could, it was him. God of travelers, thieves, and commerce. This was right up his alley.

Quinn nodded. "He wants to. An underground market for goods isn't a great look for him, and hurts Hermes Express which is based down the block at the Postal Museum. But he can't. And I finally figured out why."

"Oh?" Ophelia said.

"Somehow Trigon is using the Labyrinth for shipping."

Alex felt his throat close a little. Why would anyone go there voluntarily? To stop his hand shaking, he grabbed his wrist. That place did nothing but bring ruin and death. He never wanted to go in there, not ever again.

"Thankfully it's gone," Quinn said.

"It's not," Alex said. He knew it wasn't gone. He'd seen them, three demigods, talking about losing parts of the labyrinth. Not all of it. "Some of it is still around."

Quinn looked at him. "What?"

"I've had dreams," he said. "Bits and pieces that didn't make sense until now. But some of it is still standing. And Trigon. Three. I saw three people, two men and a woman."

"That matches with what I've heard. A daughter of Hermes and sons of Hebe and Nike at the center." He took a deep breath. "If you're going to retrieve the Lyre, go south. They operate out of Disney World."

Kitty choked on her water bottle. But Alex didn't know what irritated and surprised him more: that another child of Hermes was at the center of a smuggling ring or that the smuggling ring operated out of the most famous theme park in the world. It made sense. Children of gods of victory, youth, and commerce being associated with Disney shouldn't have been a shock. And neither should another fallen child of Cabin 11. Assuming the daughter of Hermes attended camp at all.

He felt his chest burning in anger. This is what Hermes got for abandoning his children. Alex's hands shook. The scar across his stomach started to hurt. He pushed it down. He didn't want to think about that. He didn't want to think about her. He couldn't. Not right now. He couldn't afford that.

"We're pretty tired," said Ophelia. "Do you mind if we stay here tonight? We'll be gone before you open tomorrow."

Alex didn't know how much conversation he had missed. But Ophelia kept glancing at him. He straightened up.

"Sure," Quinn said. He stood, grabbing his suit coat. "Do me a favor, though. If more monsters show up, don't trash the place. It's expensive and I don't want to find even more donors. There's a reason I fight the monsters out on the terrace."

He opened the door, then paused. Looking back at them, he added, "good luck. The children of Apollo have hoped to recover the Lyre for generations. I hope you can bring it home."

They stood or sat in the silence of Quinn's office. Alex stopped breathing. He couldn't stop seeing the same image over and over in his mind. Crushed drop bars of a black road bike, the white 'Cannondale' written across the downtube scraped and scuffed. Back wheel ten feet from the frame.

"I'm gonna check outside," he said.

Alex didn't wait for a response from either girl. He couldn't. He had to get outside, to breathe. His palm hurt from how hard he'd been squeezing the caduceus on his wrist. But he couldn't stop seeing the broken bike. He couldn't stop hearing the screech of tires on wet asphalt or his own screams.

And the blood. All the blood. The warmth of her blood never left him.