#torringrace

“Hardly your first concern,” Alabaster curtly replies. “How did you pass through my wards while unconscious?”

“Wards?” Hazy blue eyes blink rapidly. “I don’t understand.”

Lips curling into a sneer, Alabaster wordlessly casts light from his palm. The green glow washes over their faces.

“Little praetor. You got quite a number of my subordinates killed. Don’t play dumb, Jason Grace.”

“I don’t know who that is,” the son of Zeus—Jupiter, really—pleads. “Is that… Is that my name?”

Alabaster rears back in surprise.

“What have we here?” he murmurs, casting a basic diagnosis incantation.

While Jason Grace looks too confused and helpless under the magical bindings Alabaster spelled on him to be telling anything but the truth, it doesn’t make the readings any less shocking.

He’s a total amnesiac.

And he reeks of Juno’s magic. His patron’s magic.

***

“So what do we do with him?” Claymore asks later on. “Will you use him?”

To get back at Olympus, Claymore means. Jason Grace is currently primed for it—malleable to Alabaster’s care but still powerful. However, there are more pressing matters to attend to. Lamia and her unknown mistress, for one.

Alabaster caresses his left forearm, where his deceased siblings’ names are inked into his skin.

“Not just yet.” His vengeance will have to wait.

“Then what are we keeping him for?”

Jason is forced to do nothing but watch and wait as the trial and probable execution of the thief that stole not only Camp Jupiter's armory, but also several of his shirts and heart