1
Matt’s walk to the office was quick – as quick as he dared make it without drawing suspicious glances from bystanders wondering how a blind man so deftly navigated packed NYC sidewalks. The weather had officially turned from comfortably autumnal to bitterly cold, and the wind cut through Matt’s coat as if it wasn’t even there.
Excited to finally catch a bit of warmth, Matt hurried through the front door of the office and let it click closed behind him, only to be sorely disappointed when there was barely a change in temperature.
“It’s freezing in here. Did someone forget to pay the gas bill again?”
“We didn’t forget,” Karen said from her desk, “We just couldn’t afford it. It was this or the water.” There was something buzzing near the floorboards, and Matt instinctually drifted forward when he realized the area around it was significantly warmer than the rest of the room. “I’d rather be tolerably cold with a plug-in heater than warm with no way to flush the toilet.”
“That’s why I like you, Karen. Great decision-making.”
“Yeah, well, there’s gonna be some much bigger decisions being made soon if we don’t get some business. Real business. One more month like this and we can’t make rent.”
Foggy popped out of his office, door squeaking on his hinges as he came over and took a turn warming himself in front of the heater. He wiggled through an exaggerated shiver and Matt heard the rustle of thick fabric. He must have still been wearing his coat. “The lady’s right, Matt. Something’s gotta give.”
“Fog, you know why I–”
“I get it, man, I do. The pro bono stuff is noble. I wish we could help everyone that needed it. But that’s a lot of people, and we have to feed ourselves at some point.”
Matt didn’t have time to craft a response before the landline on Karen’s desk started ringing. The shrill sound almost scared him – people rarely bothered calling the office. The few clients they managed to get usually just walked right through the front door. Matt couldn’t blame them. Their office didn’t look like the sort of place that required a phone inquiry before visiting.
Karen groaned. “Telemarketers already? It’s barely nine. Give me a second.” Something whipped through the air before the phone was pulled off the hook. Karen had a habit of tossing her hair over her shoulder; it made a distinct noise as it fell and settled over the fabric of her blouse. “Nelson and Murdock”, she said into the phone, “How can I help you?”
Matt felt Foggy turn back toward him. He leaned forward to speak, voice lowered. “Seriously. This place will be dust in thirty days if we don’t bring in some paying clients.”
“I understand, Foggy. It just…It’s not what I want to be doing. I know it’s what we need to do, and I’ll do it. But I don’t like it.”
Foggy’s palm landed in a soft pat near the middle of Matt’s back. “Once we can afford to keep the lights on and actually make a profit, we can go back to being good people. But for right now, we gotta make some money.”
Footsteps retreated, and Foggy was almost back to his office before Karen snapped her fingers to get his attention. “Yes, one moment, let me put you on hold.” The plastic of the phone clicked as Karen dropped it onto the desktop. Matt didn’t even know their phone had a hold option. “Guys! Real client! He wants a meeting, but he can’t come in until six. Is that okay?”
“We close at five,” Matt pointed out.
Foggy sighed. “Dude, if he’s willing to pay us, I’ll stay the extra hour. Tell him that’s fine, Karen.”
Karen reclaimed the phone. “Six sounds just fine. I’ll get you in the books, Mr. Jackson. Yes, of course. Thanks, you too.”
Matt tried not to laugh. They didn’t have books. Whoever Mr. Jackson was, he would likely be their only scheduled client for the day. They’d be lucky if Karen wrote the appointment info on a sticky note. She wasn’t a bad receptionist; Matt and Foggy were bad at giving her reasons to be efficient. There wasn’t much need for organization when most of the clients weren’t being billed, and the ones that were didn’t make a habit of spending time in the Nelson and Murdock offices.
“Well there you go,” Matt said as he moved toward his office, regretting having to move away from Karen’s heater. The office really was uncomfortably cold. Matt wondered if they still had any of the coffee Foggy stole from the lobby of the hotel down the street. “A real client. Our luck’s turning, Foggy.”
“I love you buddy, but if you jinx this for us I will beat you to a pulp. I don’t care that you’re blind. Our friendship is beyond that now.”
Matt put a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Ouch. You’d attack a blind man?”
“I’d attack Matt Murdock. You being blind is an unfortunate but tolerable part of that.”
“Oh my god,” Karen said, “Just go to your offices. If someone walks in here and hears Foggy talking about assaulting blind men we’ll be shut down before the day’s over.”
The stolen hotel coffee was stuck behind the stale pretzels in the kitchenette cabinet, and Matt made himself a cup before sitting down and actually doing his job. Despite their distinct lack of funds, the firm of Nelson and Murdock did have a few long-term clients on the Accounts Collectable list. There was just enough busy work to be done for each of their respective cases that the tasks carried Matt through the morning and late afternoon.
By the time Matt stopped feeling the sun shining through his office window, his fingers were more or less numb from running over his laptop’s braille display for hours on end. Not to mention the never ending chill of the office, which only worsened as the day wore on. Matt wasn’t sure he’d ever feel his pinkies again.
There was a knock on his office door. He didn’t bother responding – Karen was the only one that ever knocked, and it was just her polite way of warning him before entering of her own accord.
“Anything I can do for you, Miss Page?”
“I was thinking we should either hold the meeting out at my desk or move the heater in here and let the room defrost a bit before he shows up. Not a great first impression to freeze the client to death.”
There wasn’t enough room at Karen’s desk for four people to comfortably sit, so Matt’s office was probably their best bet. He was also just shameless enough to jump on the opportunity to have the heater near his feet. Dress shoes were shit for insulation.
“Let’s do it in here. Mind grabbing Foggy while you’re at it?”
“As you wish Mr. Murdock,” Karen said, falsely posh and with an entirely false subservience.
“That’s probably the least happy I’ve ever been to hear someone call me that.”
Matt couldn’t see her smile, but he imagined it was wide.“I know, that’s why I did it. I like to watch you squirm. Be right back.”
Karen returned with Foggy and the heater in tow, and the three of them prepped the office for someone that might actually care about the condition of the place. Karen also had the piece of mind to start another batch of coffee; a peace offering for making their client do business inside a meat freezer. By the time they were done, Matt decided he wasn’t totally embarrassed by their setup.
But six o’ clock came, and no one knocked on the door.
“He’s probably just running late,” Karen proposed. “Rush hour traffic and all.”
Six o’five, and still no client.
“Did he tell you anything?” Foggy asked Karen. “Any specifics as to what exactly he wanted us for? Not that it matters, I guess. At this point I’d defend an inanimate object in court if someone paid me for it.”
“Not really. Just said he was looking for legal counsel and gave me his last name to use as an appointment holder. Said he’d be here at six. That’s it.”
Six-fifteen came and went, and Matt was starting to lose hope. If Mr. Jackson was willing to call and make an appointment outside of regular hours, it would have made sense that he’d call to tell them he had to cancel last minute. But to be a complete no-show after all that effort? It seemed pointless.
Foggy slapped a hand against the conference table. “Alright, I’m giving it thirty seconds before I pack up and go home. I’m tired, hungry, and so, so excited to get the hell out of this place.”
Matt was good at filtering noise. He’d spent his whole life perfecting that skill, seeing as without it he’d be constantly overwhelmed by audio input. But enhanced hearing wasn’t something he could just turn off, and occasionally ambient noise leaked through. This time it was the opening and closing of the outside door, then the sound of hurried but calculated footsteps echoing in the stairwell. Just as Foggy started shoving his notepad into his briefcase someone’s knuckles wrapped a quick, sharp rhythm on the main door.
Foggy’s seat squeaked as he turned to look out Matt’s office window. “Oh, shit, did I just manifest that?”
Karen was already up and meeting the newcomer at the threshold. “Mr. Jackson? Awesome, Hello, come on in. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
Mr. Jackson was already apologizing as he walked into the room. “Yes, that would be amazing, thank you, and I am so, so sorry for being late after already scheduling outside your normal hours. Work ran over, and then I couldn’t get a cab, and then I forgot the directions I tried to memorize before I left my office so I had to stumble around without a map until I saw the sign outside, and…Yeah. Sorry.”
Foggy stood and offered Jackson a hand. “Mr. Jackson, pleasure to meet you. Franklin Nelson, but feel free to call me Foggy.”
Matt followed suit, standing from his seat and extending a flat palm in Jackson’s general direction. He wasn’t sure if it was Jackson’s natural reaction time or if he was actively noticing Matt’s blindness, but his returning grip was delayed. Matt was taken aback by the well developed callouses spotting his palm. “Matt Murdock. Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah, good to meet you both.” He paused. “Where should I…”
“Anywhere at the table is fine,” Karen supplied. “And sorry for the chill, our heat’s been out and we’re having trouble finding a maintenance guy that can come on short notice.”
Matt had to hold back a snort. Never let it be said that Karen Page couldn’t tell a white lie.
There were gentle tremors through the hardwood floors as Jackson sunk into a chair at the other end of the table. Karen carefully set a styrofoam cup of coffee before him and Jackson whispered his thanks. “It’s no problem. I’m not one to get cold easily.”
Karen’s pen clicked, papers rustling as she found an open page in her steno pad. “Well it’s good to know we won’t be freezing you to death, then.”
Matt tried to smile like he agreed, but he was too busy cataloguing the new client to put much energy into it.
The guy was tall; he displaced a lot of air as he moved. Maybe not heavy-set, though. His footsteps were too light. He also came with the inexplicable scent of salty wind and seawater. It wasn’t a common thing to get a whiff of in New York, and its presence was confusing. Matt had never come across a cologne that smelled so genuine.
“You said work ran late?” Foggy asked. “What do you do?”
“I, uh, work for the Met. I’m part of the Education department. I give talks, explain exhibit histories to staff and visitors and make sure the curated pieces make sense for an exhibit. I’m also a tour guide, when the interns decide not to show up.”
That earned Jackson a chuckle from Matt and the rest of the team. Matt was invested, now. It wasn’t often that someone who worked for a prestigious institution like the Met needed to seek legal counsel, especially from a firm like Nelson and Murdock. “What’s your area of specialty?”
“Ancient Greece. Specifically Greek Mythology. I spend some time with the Roman counterparts as well, but the Greek stuff has always stuck better, for some reason.”
“Sounds interesting,” Karen offered, ever polite.
“I guess so,” Percy said. He didn’t sound like he entirely agreed with her. “It’s a paycheck, that’s for sure.”
No one quite knew how to respond to that. Foggy clapped and rubbed his hands together, both a usual nervous habit of his and probably a way to warm up his fingers. “Why don’t we get started by having you tell us a bit about yourself? Full name, restate your occupation, the basics. Just so Karen can fill your file.”
Mr. Jackson cleared his throat. “Sure, sure. Full name is Perseus Jackson.”
Nobody moved. Karen didn’t even try to write it down.
“I swear. That’s what’s on the birth certificate.”
“A Greek mythology expert named Perseus,” Foggy said.
Clothing rustled across the room as Percy shrugged. Matt barely caught it. The fabric slipped almost silently against itself — he must have been wearing something soft. A sweater, maybe.
“Forgive the surprise, Mr. Jackson,” Matt said, trying to sound apologetic. “It’s just…coincidental.”
Jackson huffed like he wasn’t entirely convinced by the name either. “You’re tellin’ me. And please, it’s just Percy.”
“Alright,” Matt conceded, “Percy, then.”
They spent a few more minutes collecting general info, getting acquainted with one another. The more they spoke the more Percy seemed to relax, and it didn’t take long for Matt to note that despite working for a world- renowned institution, his formal decorum was almost non-existent. He hardly ever sat still, constantly shifting in his chair or fiddling with whatever noisy plastic object was in his pocket. He often lost his train of thought and had to start entire statements over. When Foggy asked how old he was, he actually gave a year too old before catching himself and finally settling on twenty-six.
“And last but not least,” Karen said, “Can I have your primary phone number? Just in case we have questions for you about your case.”
Percy rattled off a series of numbers and Karen scribbled it on her notepad. “That’s your cell?”
“Actually, that’s my office phone. I don’t have a cell phone.”
Foggy sat up a bit at that. “You don’t have a cell phone?”
“Technology and I don’t agree. I have the bare minimum of what I need for work and that’s about it. But I do have an email, if you want that.”
Karen took it down, and when her pen stopped moving Matt knew she was looking to Foggy and him for next steps.
“Alright, Percy.” Foggy’s elbows scraped against the tabletop as he leaned forward a bit. “Now that the logistics are out of the way, let’s get to the meat of this. Why are you seeking the services of Nelson and Murdock?”
Percy took a deep breath. For the first time since the meeting started, his unusually steady heartbeat fluttered behind his sternum. It wasn’t the rapid jackrabbit of fear — more like a few skips of embarrassment.
“It’s not for one particular case,” he said carefully. “I am, let’s say, a clumsy person. And I also have some really, really terrible luck. Wrong-place-wrong-time sort of stuff. When I was a kid I was blamed for a lot of things that weren’t my fault. It didn’t matter much then because I was young and it either just ended in detention or expulsion. But as I got older, when the bad things happened, authorities were much less willing to believe I was just troubled. They saw me, saw my record, and assumed I was to blame.”
Matt gave him a moment to continue, but Percy seemed content to feel out the room before pressing on.
“So you need us for what?” Matt asked. “To be on retainer? You just want to have lawyers on standby the next time your luck turns the wrong way?”
“Yeah, basically.”
Foggy must have made a face, because Percy jumped to defend himself. “I swear to you, I’m not going around vandalizing things and blaming fate. I don’t want trouble. It finds me, I guess. I just want to be prepared for when everything inevitably goes to shit.”
Foggy hummed. “It sounds like you assume that’ll be soon.”
“I’m happy right now. I have a solid job, a decent apartment. So yeah, it’ll probably be soon, because right as things start going right for me is when they end up going sideways.”
Matt couldn’t help but think about how sad of an outlook that was. To finally have peace, but fully expect for that peace to be temporary. He himself had an idea of what that felt like, and it was the last thing he wanted for anyone else.
“How about we step out and discuss,” Foggy said, “and we’ll give you our thoughts in a few minutes. That alright?”
“Yes sir, thank you.”
“Karen, Matt, my office?”
The three of them shuffled out of the room. Matt grabbed his cane for the sake of appearances and was surprised to actually bump something on his way out the door. How had he not noticed something in his way?
“So sorry Mr. Murdock,” Percy said, sounding sincere. He pulled his foot out of Matt’s path. The guy must have been leaned back and sprawled out in his seat for his legs to be protruding from beneath the table. “My mother did always say I sit like a delinquent.”
“No worries, Percy. Be right back.”
The second Matt was in Foggy’s office and the door clicked closed, Foggy collapsed into his desk chair. “I have no idea what to think about him.”
Matt frowned. “Really? I think he’s just a clutz and needs someone to defend him when he gets fined for all of the property damage. We’ve represented worse.”
Karen fiddled with the edge of her steno pad. “But you can’t see him.” Her voice drifted somewhere between wistfulness and confusion. “His vibes are not what you’d expect from someone who supposedly works at the Met.”
“How so?”
“Well first of all, he’s pretty,” Foggy said matter-of-factly, like that was a completely normal thing to say about a client.
“Uh, excuse me?”
Karen sighed. “He’s right, Matt. You’re missing out this time. Mediterranean tan, dark shaggy hair. And his eyes—“
“—So blue,” Foggy interjected. “Or green. I can’t quite tell. Either way, damn.”
“You realize most of this still means nothing to me.”
“Ugh, you’re no fun. Fine. Foggy, what else?”
“Kid’s kinda scrappy. Can’t sit up straight to save his life. And he’s got all these little nicks and scars on his hands.”
“Like he’s either been punching people’s lights out or taking risks and getting into things he shouldn’t for most of his youth,” Matt supplied.
“And who doesn’t have a cellphone?” Karen asked. “That’s odd.”
Foggy shot forward. “Right! And none of that explains how he managed to get a job at the Met. As an educator, no less.”
Matt was growing frustrated. “You know, for two people who were nagging me about needing money, you’re awfully willing to shoot down the first source of it that walks in the door. Maybe the guy’s just attractive and knows his Greek mythology! Why does all of this matter so much? He needs lawyers. We’re lawyers. Let’s have him sign the retainer agreement so we can get paid and get the damn heat turned back on.”
“Fine, Fine. You’re right. Karen’s eyelashes are frosting over as we speak.”
Papers rustled, a solid thump landed somewhere near Matt’s left side, and Foggy whined. “Geeze, Karen, sorry! Can you go for my arm next time? The brain is my money maker. And I’m just saying, Matt, something’s telling me this one’s gonna be a doozy. I feel it.”
Karen didn’t say anything. Foggy just grumbled. “It’s always the attractive ones that smack you over the head with notepads. And Matt Murdock always drifts toward beautiful people. How? We’ll never know. What does that mean for me? A life of notepad-induced injuries and rambunctious clients.”
“Alright, Fog.” Karen gave him a not-so-sorry pat on the back. “We get it. Matt’s a Hot Person detector. Let’s get back in there before Percy thinks we abandoned him.”
Percy didn’t seem to mind or even notice how long they’d been gone; he was tapping what sounded like a ballpoint pen repeatedly against the table and staring off into space. When Matt and Foggy walked in he sat up in his chair. There was no foot for Matt’s cane to hit this time.
Foggy seemed content to end the meeting as quickly as possible. Whether it was because he was cold or pissed off that Matt kept dragging physically attractive people into their lives, Matt didn’t know. “Okay, Percy. We’d be happy to be your legal council for the foreseeable future. We’ve got Karen in the other room printing off a general retainer agreement now.”
“That’s—that’s awesome, Mr. Nelson, thank you.”
“But,” Matt added, “that’s with the understanding that you’ll try your absolute hardest to stay out of trouble. You’re welcome to come to us for any legal needs you may have, but for your sake, we’d prefer those needs not be of a criminal nature.”
“You and me both, Mr. Murdock. I’ll do my best.”
Soon Karen was back with the paperwork. Matt and Foggy gave Percy the rundown of the contract and his own copy of the terms. Percy signed on the dotted line and gave them a check, which took Matt by surprise. What twenty-six year old kid carried a checkbook? Then again, it was the same twenty-six year old that didn’t have a cellphone, so Matt didn’t think too much about it.
Percy shook everyone’s hands again before leaving. “Again, thanks so much for making time for me.”
The edge of his coat sleeve brushed Matt’s skin, and Matt had to restrain himself from reaching out and getting a genuine feel. He couldn’t pinpoint the material, but it was something deliciously soft. Not expensive, but worn with age and forcefully tailored to the wearer over time. Matt’s enhanced senses made fabrics a daily struggle, and certain blends abraded like sandpaper. This, whatever Percy was wearing, Matt wished everything he owned was made of it.
“Have a good night, Percy. Don’t hesitate to call if you have any questions, alright?”
“Yeah, Mr. Nelson, will do.”
Matt wondered if the speed with which Foggy closed the door behind Percy could have been considered rude, but at the prospect of going home and crawling into bed he couldn’t find it in himself to deliver any kind of reprimand.
As soon as the door clicked closed Karen’s kitten heels clicked toward Matt and Foggy. “Foggy, did you see that? Did you see—“
“The corduroys!” They both shouted at once.
Matt thought his friends might have been losing their minds. Apparently Karen wasn’t done gushing. “With the sweater? And that jacket? Game over.”
Foggy was on the same track to insanity. “You know what? I’m not even mad about Matt pulling hot people anymore. Percy Jackson is a blessing upon all of us. Godsent, if you will.”
“I’m going home,” Matt told his friends. “You guys should probably stop talking about this now.”
Thanks to the weather’s worsening chill and the early setting of the sun, the sidewalks weren’t too packed as Matt made his way home. The ease of his commute allowed him to keep an ear out, listen around corners and between buildings for situations that may benefit from having the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen intervene.
Matt still hadn’t told his friends that the mysterious masked man in the papers was him. Or that he was enhanced at all. He was keeping a lot from his friends, really, and though he didn’t like it he knew it was the right move. Telling them made them targets, and he was the only one he was willing to let stick a bullseye on their back. Why should Foggy and Karen suffer for his transgressions?
Because that’s what those were, wasn’t it? Those things Matt did behind the veil of darkness. No holy man had such hatred in his heart. An even less holy man used that hatred as a weapon, a tool of forced submission.
But he wasn’t going to stop. He knew it, God definitely knew it. And that was that.
He was only a few blocks from home when one sound peaked above the rest – a distinct, rumbling growl. Matt wasn’t a fan of dogs, and he quickly decided that unless the growling came closer or it sounded as if someone else was in danger, he wasn’t going to stop. Animals were harder to predict than people. There was only so much luck you could have when fighting blind.
The growling escalated and Matt paused on the sidewalk, listening. Pedestrians cursed under their breath as they were effectively cut off and had to swerve around him at the last second. Instead of the bark Matt expected at the growl’s crescendo an entirely different sound filtered in, something guttural. Unnatural. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, and despite the unease that came with facing something Matt couldn’t immediately identify, he had to make sure it wasn’t a threat to himself or anyone else.
He waited until he was at the corner of the alley to fold up his cane. Then it was a slow walk with a single hand against the brick wall of one of the buildings, feeling for vibrations or bouncing bits of sound to try and get a feel of who or what he was dealing with.
The growling hadn’t stopped, a low rumble sweeping the space between buildings.
Matt tracked the sound waves and was gearing himself up for a proper trip into the depths of the alley when he picked up on it. A heartbeat, closer to the animal than Matt. It was strong, slow and solid, the pulse of someone well trained and in good physical shape. Even as the animal’s paw pads hit the asphalt and it crept closer, the opposing heartbeat did not waver.
“C’mon, man. Now?”
The voice. The voice.
“I’ve rumbled with monsters like you before, dude. It was years ago, but I never forget a face. Especially when it looks like that. Yikes. Really a mug only a mother could love.”
The creature gargled and hacked and with no warning whatsoever charged forward at full speed. Rough nails scraped the ground as paws beat the pavement, the creature coming closer and closer to that ever-steady heartbeat. Trash cans were knocked over in its wake. A dumpster went skidding to the side as it barreled past.
The creature’s target groaned. “I literally just left an attorney’s office!” Matt had been around enough swords to recognize the definitive shing of one being unsheathed. “Please stop destroying city property!”
The heartbeat’s owner swung the sword in a wide forward arc. Matt barely caught it, the moment the weapon made contact with the monster, because as soon as the beast’s body met the blade there was a puff like a popped balloon. The frigid evening wind hummed around the sword’s blade, almost a sizzle against the forged metal as it carried particles of something through the air and dispersed it across the ground. Matt felt some dribble into his hair. He brushed a bit off his suit jacket.
The wind kept blowing, and with it came a scent that confirmed Matt’s earlier suspicions upon hearing the sword-wielder’s voice. The unmistakable essence of the sea, salty on the tip of Matt’s tongue.
Matt stepped out from his hiding place before he could think better of it, planting himself in between the buildings but a bit down the alley, simultaneously shielding himself from street view and boxing the other man in.
He whistled as he twirled the pummel of the sword in his grip, so distracted by his own victory that he didn’t see Matt before he turned on his heel and almost walked directly into him.
“Whoa, shit! Who— uh. Um.”
“Percy?” Matt asked. “Percy Jackson?”
That frustratingly straightforward heartbeat suddenly jumped. “I don’t—“
“I know it’s you, Percy.”
“Okay?”
“Why do you have a sword?”
Apparently mentioning the weapon was the icing on the interrogation cake, because Percy immediately dropped any attempt at being discreet. “Huh? How do you even know it’s a sword?”
“So it is a sword.”
“I plead the Fifth.”
“This isn’t court. You’re not on trial.”
“It sure feels like I am. Did you follow me?” A pause. “Where’s your cane?”
“What was that you were fighting? It didn’t sound like any dog I’ve ever heard. And where did it go?” Matt pointed in what he thought was the direction of the sword. “What did you do to it?”
“Mr. Murdock, you’ve got it all wrong.”
Matt cocked an eyebrow. Crossed his arms. “So you weren’t fighting some sort of monster in the alleyway with a sword? And that monster didn’t explode into a pile of dust?”
“You saw the manticore, too?”
So definitely not a dog. “Well, I didn’t see anything.”
“Oh. Gods, sorry.”
“A sword? A manticore three blocks from my favorite deli? Please, Percy, what the hell is happening right now?”
The sword shing ed again and Matt could no longer hear it waving through the air. “Truthfully? Not a damn clue.”
“Awesome.”
“I guess…I guess this means you have Sight. My lawyer has Sight? This is so much right now, Jesus Christ.”
Thunder rumbled once overhead.
“Ugh, whatever! Sorry!” Percy shouted upward.
“Percy,” Matt said, torn between shaking the guy and calmly but firmly forcing him to sit down and stay focused. “Whatever you think I have, it’s definitely not sight.”
Percy waved a hand. “No, no, not that kind of sight.”
“Then what kind?”
Percy went quiet for a moment, contemplative. “I’m not getting out of this one, am I?”
“I just found my new client sword-dueling what you’re telling me is a mythical monster in the middle of a Manhattan alleyway. No, you are not getting out of this.”
Percy’s responding sigh was more tired than upset. “You have anywhere to be?”
“I’m prowling alleyways after work. Obviously not.”
“Then follow me.”