#spicywrites unnamed pjo fusion series

[spicycreativity]

Re-posting this because I added an external link to my AO3 last time so Tumblr blocked it from the tags and no one saw it 🙄 Find it on AO3 under my username WizardGlick

Fear in Friendship (is an ugly trait):

5k gen PJO fusion oneshot featuring Roman, Remus, and Janus. I changed some of the rules of the PJO universe to make the story more fun to write 😊 CW for canon-typical violence, teenager-typical swearing, and one brief instance of potential ableism

Questions not answered in the narrative: Roman and Remus are children of Apollo, Janus is a child of Aphrodite. Janus' weapon is a war scythe

Three-Sentence Summary: Remus loses some blood. Janus has a No Good Very Bad day. Roman begins an illustrious career as a matador.

"Janice?" Roman asked, tilting his head at the new student Remus had brought to meet him. He was about to be late for after-school rehearsal, but Remus had come trotting up dragging the newcomer by the hand, and he'd looked so excited that Roman just couldn't bring himself to blow his brother off.

The new student glared. "Jan-US," he said, with an incredulous look at Remus, as if to say 'this idiot is your brother?' "Like the Roman god." He said it like it was obvious, like Roman was some kind of moron for not knowing. The sneering tone made Roman's blood run hot with anger and shame.

"I don't know all about that nerdy shit," Roman said, waving a hand dismissively.

Janus rolled his eyes. "Really? I would never have guessed; you seem so smart."

He was almost handsome, Roman thought, trying to study Janus' face without giving away that he was staring. He really might have been good-looking if it wasn't for the look of irritation that had been glued to his face ever since he'd entered Roman's field of vision.

A field of scarring spanned the left side of his face and traveled down his neck until the painful-looking swirl of pink and white disappeared under his high-collared shirt. The scarring itself was not necessarily unusual, just standard burn scars. What caught Roman's attention was how they just stopped, all in a straight, uniform line directly down the center of Janus' face. Almost like… Roman tried not to shudder as the thought came to him. Almost like someone had done it on purpose.

He swallowed hard and tried to get himself back on track. "Least I don't share a name with our librarian, Miss Janice."

"God, you're such a dick." Remus ran a hand through his unruly hair, shooting Roman a dark look. Roman stuck out his tongue. "Forget it." He took Janus by the wrist again and turned away. "Come on, let's go see if we can hack the vending machine."

"Oh, no you don't." Roman lunged forward, irritation coursing through him, and grabbed the top of Remus' backpack. "You're coming with me so I can keep an eye on you."

"No way!" Remus squirmed, but Roman kept his grip tight. "I don't wanna go to your stupid rehearsal."

To Roman's surprise, Janus chimed in with a keen and interested, "Rehearsal?"

"He thinks he's hot shit because he's playing Danny Zuko." Remus rolled his eyes, still trying to wiggle free of Roman's grip. "News flash, anyone can memorize lines and prance around in a leather jacket."

"So why don't you try out?" Roman asked rhetorically, starting to pull Remus down the hall.

Remus went along with it, though Roman knew full-well that he could have slipped out of his backpack and made a run for it at any time. "'Cause I'm too busy bangin'! Ba dum ch!" 

As they made their way down the hall, Janus walked beside them in silence. Roman watched him out of the corner of his eye, frowning at the way he continually glanced over his shoulder like he was expecting to get in some sort of trouble. It was a look Roman was well familiar with. He had seen it on Remus and he had worn it himself far more times than he was comfortable with. Roman and his brother seemed to attract danger wherever they went, from stalkers to muggers to one stranger's memorable attempt at running them over in the crosswalk. It was never the same person twice, and each isolated incident could be chalked up to an accident. Roman didn't like to think about it for too long and worked hard to keep Remus from talking about it. After the first mugging, Remus had sworn for weeks that their assailant had had a tail. Roman had denied it out loud, but he couldn't lie to himself. Something wasn't right.

If Janus was equally as twitchy… Was he part of it? Did he know something?

"I understand the compulsion, since I am quite good-looking," Janus said, in a tone so dry it could have drained an Olympic swimming pool, "but you'd better quit staring at me before you walk into a door."

"I spaced out," Roman said, unable to think of a snappier retort. He couldn't help but shoot Janus suspicious looks out of the corner of his eye as they continued toward the Main building. "Where'd you transfer from, anyway? How old are you?"

Janus put his hands up like a cornered criminal. "You caught me," he said, affecting regret. "I'm a 43 year-old police officer trying to track down a drug ring. Promise me you won't tell?"

"Little does he know, I'm the distributor," Remus said, finally yanking free from Roman's hold. Roman let him go, knowing that if he had stayed this long, he probably wasn't going to run off.

Roman rolled his eyes. "Very funny, J Jonah Hill. But seriously."

"I'm 16," Janus said. "I transferred from a school in New York."

"All the way from New York? How'd you end up in Florida?" Roman yanked open the door to Main and held it for Remus and Janus. He was tempted to let it drop on Remus just to watch him stumble, but found himself distracted by a gold keychain on Janus' backpack. It was nothing special, just a shiny metal Gemini symbol, but the way it caught the light made Roman pause.

"Teleported," Janus said.

"Are you allergic to straight answers, or what?" Roman asked, unamused. Janus' mocking demeanor didn't sit well with him, and something about Janus' face didn't make sense. The scars seemed almost superficial, and didn't always move in conjunction with his mouth. Roman felt stupid just thinking it, but it was almost like they were masking something.

"What crawled up your ass?" Remus demanded. He turned to Janus. "Sorry, he's not usually such an asshole. He's probably just nervous about hitting all those high notes. I heard him practicing in the shower last night and it was like someone was skinning a cat."

"I sounded awesome," Roman said, blushing furiously. He paused before the theater doors, turning his back to them so he could directly address Remus. "Go find a seat. And I swear to God, if you cause any disruptions, I'll shave your drumsticks down into toothpicks."

"Not the Vic Firths!" Remus said, gasping in faux-horror. He dismissed Roman with a wave of his hand and motioned for Janus to follow him. "C'mon, let's go see if we can catch a cockroach."

Roman just shook his head and hurried backstage.

He had a hard time focusing during rehearsal, missing cues and tripping over himself on lines he had memorized days ago. But he was too distracted to even be bothered, subtly trying to keep an eye on Remus-- okay, on Janus from his vantage point on the stage.

Roman couldn't help it. He didn't trust Janus. The haunted look in his eyes, the way he was always looking over his shoulder… Something was off.

No matter how hard he tried, Roman couldn't force himself to focus. His thoughts kept whirling until they transformed into an overwhelming sense of dread that demanded all his attention. He barely even noticed when rehearsal ended, hurrying into the seating area to try to find Remus.

He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't there. Roman shouldered his backpack and strode off toward the bathrooms, trying hard not to panic. What if Janus was bad news? What if he had hurt Remus? What if Remus was lying bloody in a back corner somewhere because Roman wasn't there to protect him?

"Remus?" Roman called, checking both bathrooms. Nothing. "Shit." Where else did Remus like to go? Maybe the band room? Roman set off for it at a jog, his backpack bouncing against his back.

Nothing in the band room. Roman tried the handle anyway, just to confirm that it was locked.

"I'm going to kill him," Roman muttered, stalking off toward the football field. He swung by the vending machines on the way just in case, and came up empty. It had to be the football field, then. Remus had been talking about playing with the tackle dummies for weeks. That had to be it.

Roman forced himself to slow down as he approached the football field, not wanting Remus to know how badly he'd been freaking out. Of course Remus was there, doing cartwheels on the turf while Janus sat and watched.

"I told you not to leave!" Roman said, marching up to the pair of them.

"You didn't," Janus said, smirking. Roman glared at him. In the sun, his scars seemed to fade for a moment, revealing only the slightest hint of… green? Roman shook his head. It must have been the light reflecting off the turf. Janus continued, "You only said to find a seat and not cause any disruptions."

"I was gonna release a cockroach onto the stage and see if I could get it to go up your pants leg," Remus said, falling out of a cartwheel and landing on his back. "But Janus convinced me not to."

"You're welcome," Janus said.

Roman couldn't help but stare at him. His scars flickered in and out in the sunlight, the dark brown of his left eye flashing yellow. "Remus, get behind me," Roman said, deadly serious.

"What?" Remus lifted his head. "Why?"

Roman didn't answer, stepping between his brother and Janus. "What are you?" he demanded.

Janus' eyes widened before a look of realization crossed his face. "I'm a friend," he said in a silky, almost crooning tone. "You can trust me."

"He's a friend," Remus repeated. "Why are you being so weird?"

A sense of calm slid over Roman for half a second before he snapped out of it. "What are you?" he repeated, stepping forward into Janus' personal space. Now that he was looking for it, he could see it clear as day: Janus was half-snake. His entire left half was covered in dull green scales, and a slit pupil neatly bisected the sickly yellow of his left eye.

Janus put up his hands. "You're stronger than Remus," he said, almost to himself.

Roman grabbed him by the collar. "You have 30 seconds to explain what's going on."

"Look," Janus said. "You know you're not normal, right?"

"Bad start," Roman said, making a show of cocking his fist back. He'd never hit anyone in his life, save the occasional thrown elbow in wrestling matches with Remus. Should he go for the jaw? The eye?

"You have an absent parent, you get in trouble a lot, you've been in a lot of one-off dangerous situations that you can't really explain," Janus rattled off like he was reciting from a memorized list. "You're dyslexic, you make things happen like magic. Stop me when this sounds familiar."

"Some of those things, maybe," Roman said. Remus was dyslexic and they'd both had their fair share of dangerous run-ins. Distantly, he thought he heard the overlapping thumps of several car doors shutting. "What does that have to do with you?"

"You aren't human," Janus said.

"You aren't human," Roman shot back.

Janus rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Okay, look. You're the only one who can see my real face, right? Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know!" Roman said. Distracted, he let go of Janus' shirt. "What are you saying?"

"I'm trying to say that-- Okay, you know what? Let's just rip the blindfold off like a Band-Aid, sure!" Janus gave a hysterical-sounding laugh. "You're a demigod. You're both demigods."

Roman scoffed, unsure of exactly what else to say. A million questions raced through his mind, punctuated by that slamming car door sound again. What was that, anyway? He backed away from Janus and nearly stepped on Remus, who grabbed him by the ankle and bit. "You can stop harassing my friend now, you neurotic weirdo."

"Look at him!" Roman said. He bent down and hauled Remus to his feet, and was immediately distracted by a mechanical-sounding hissing and creaking. "I'm sorry, does anyone else hear a broken washing machine?"

"Whoa!" said Remus. "You're a snake!”

"I am not," Janus said.

Roman spun around, still searching for the source of the noise. It came into view a moment later and he froze for half a second, eyes widening. "Uhh, guys?" he said, backing up despite himself. He kept his gaze locked onto the massive copper bull that was striding directly at the fencing surrounding the football field, radiating heat that warped the air around it.

"What the heck is that?" Remus asked in obvious fascination.

"Listen," Janus said, his voice strangely calm. In the corner of his eye, Roman could just make out Janus as he removed his backpack and yanked the gold Gemini keychain off the zipper. "You need to get to my car. It's the blue Kia Soul parked by the main entrance."

In the distance, the bull backed up and smashed its way through the fence with a horrible clanging sound.

"Is that thing gonna try to kill us?" Remus asked.

The bull meandered closer, looking as nonchalant as a massive metal bull could. Roman fought the urge to back up, to grab Remus by the hand and get the hell out of dodge. "Why isn't it attacking?"

"It probably hasn't seen us yet," Janus said. He sounded as calm as ever, but Roman didn't miss the frantic rise and fall of his chest. "Walk off," he said. "Slowly."

"What about you?" Roman demanded.

Janus spun the keychain around his finger. The metal gleamed in the sun and lengthened into something Roman didn't recognize: a long metal pole with a half-moon blade at the end. "I'll hold it off."

"You can't seriously think--" Roman started, but the bull looked up and started to charge and the words died on his lip as raw panic choked out his rational thought 

"Run!" Janus ordered. "Blue Kia Soul. Meet me there!"

Roman shrugged out of his backpack, grabbed Remus by the wrist and sprinted.

"Are you crazy?" Remus shouted. "We can't just leave him!"

"No shit!" Roman shouted back, still dragging Remus along. "We need weapons or something!"

"Hurdles," Remus said, veering off to the side.

Roman nearly tripped and was forced to let go of Remus’ hand. He wanted to argue, but there was very little of potential use on the field. The tackle dummies and tires left out by the football team were far too heavy for them to move. The track hurdles were the only things even remotely useful. Remus grabbed one and started hauling it back toward the fray, and Roman was quick to follow suit. He didn't want Remus going in first if he could help it.

The hurdle was unwieldy and made his hands ache, but he barely noticed, too wrapped in not tripping while he watched Janus in a state of adrenaline-riddled horror.

By some miracle, Janus wasn't dead. In fact, to Roman's puzzlement, he sort of looked like he knew what he was doing. More or less. He held his weapon with confidence and kept his center of gravity low. The bull seemed to have no other strategy than to aim itself at a target and charge, allowing Janus to dodge every time. Unfortunately, it seemed he could only dodge, as the long handle of his weapon, whatever it was, didn't allow for quick maneuvers.

They were locked in a stalemate, and it was pretty much a guarantee that Janus was going to tire out. He was already breathing heavily, keeping his moments sparing and conservative.

Then Remus came flying in and Roman could only watch as his brother flung the track hurdle with wild abandon. "Die!"

"I told you to run!" Janus shouted, barely audible over the clanging of the bull kicking furiously to try to dislodge its back legs from the hurdle

"We'll run after we finish saving your ass," Roman said. The bull's head swiveled between the two of them, as Remus was still behind it, and Roman swore he saw a spark of intelligence in its molten-metal eyes. Without any sort of warning, it kicked Remus in the chest and took off at a dead sprint for Janus again.

For a split second, Roman was paralyzed. Remus hit the ground hard and rolled and lay still; Janus stood frozen with guilt written all over his face.

"Move!" Roman shouted, already formulating a plan. If he could get the hurdle underfoot while the bull was charging, it might trip, allowing Janus enough time to… stab it or slash it or whatever his weapon was supposed to be good for.

Janas sidestepped again and dashed forward. He glared at Roman, too winded to speak.

"I need you to draw its attention again," Roman said, glancing at the bull. It left deep gouges in the artificial grass where it stopped, and the rubber smoked from the sheer heat it put out. It turned and pawed the ground. "And I swear to God, if you let it get to Remus again, I will end you."

"Like it was my fault," Janus panted, already in motion. He backed up, careful to step away from Remus. Lacking any spare fabric to wave, he threw his free arm out and shouted, "It's me that you want."

He used the same silken, commanding tone he'd tried on Roman earlier. Roman made a mental note to ask him about that when they weren't in the middle of a death match.

The bull charged. Roman threw the hurdle. Then everything went to Hell.

The bull did trip as Roman had intended, but it had so much momentum that it kept thundering toward Janus as it stumbled and scrabbled for balance on the melting rubber chips. A wayward hoof caught Janus in the ankle and knocked him flat, practically right underneath its massive chest. He gave a shout and dropped his weapon, and Roman realized with a feeling of sinking dread that it must have been too hot to touch.

Well, there went that.

He needed a new plan and he needed it now. Already the bull was finding its footing and turning its fiery glare on Roman.

Roman charged it, feeling more like Remus' brother than he had ever had before. "Die!" He rolled forward and grabbed Janus' weapon, barely noticing the heat that seared into his palms-- He didn't have time for pain or panic. Spotting a crack in the metal plating on the bull's back, Roman aimed the blade and shoved. The bull shuddered and Janus shouted something, but Roman had no room for thoughts more complex than kill, protect, kill, protect. He shoved and shoved until the bull gave a final hiss and went still, until sweat poured into his eyes and he could no longer keep them open, until the metal shaft of Janus' weapon snapped under his hand.

"Remus!" Janus shouted. 

That got Roman's attention. He left Janus half-pinned under the steaming body of the bull and dashed for Remus' prone form.

He was already starting to sit up and self-assess, touching the back of his head and studying his bloodied fingers with an unsettling blank expression.

"Are you okay?" Roman asked.

Remus blinked hard, stared at him. "Is it dead?"

"Yeah, it's dead."

"Where's Janus?"

Roman frowned and looked behind him. Janus had extracted himself from the wreckage of the bull and was kneeling and wiping the sweat off his face. "Remus is asking for you," Roman said, trying not to let his bitterness show in his voice.

"You broke my scythe," Janus said, not moving.

"You could thank me for saving your life," Roman shot back, half-forgetting Remus.

"That was my best weapon! Now all I have is this stupid knife."

"Are you coming over or not?"

"I can't." Janus glared at Roman. "Somebody dropped a two-ton Colchis bull on me and shattered my ankle in the process."

"But did you die?"

"Can you stop yelling?" Remus murmured, burying his face in his hands.

Roman stared at him, heart hammering with renewed fear. "Are you okay?"

"I just want to go home."

"You can't," Janus said. Roman glared at him, but he continued without acknowledging it, "It's not safe. The monsters know about you now. You have to come with me."

"And why the Hell would we do that?" Roman demanded. "You almost got us killed!"

Remus peeked over the tops of his fingers. "I don't think it was his fault, Roman."

"Thanks for the backup, bro." Roman rolled his eyes and turned to address Janus again. "Why should we trust you?"

The look Janus gave him could have burned a hole in titanium. "Hm, let's see. Who has all the answers? Who just tried to save your ungrateful ass? Think hard now, Roman, don't be afraid to phone a friend."

"I get it, I get it." Roman got to his feet, surprised at how stiff and sore he already felt. He extended a hand to Remus only to yelp in sudden agony when Remus tried to grab on. He turned his hands over and found both palms bright red and shiny with small blisters on the centers. He offered Renus his forearm instead, and steadied him as he swayed. "You okay?"

"Super," Remus wheezed. "Fucking peachy. I got kicked right in the tit by a steampunk rodeo bull and busted my head open on the single rock in this entire field of soft-ass rubber chips. Can't wait to tell Mom."

"Shit!" Roman said. "Mom!" Realization hit a moment later-- she was out of town for a few days at some big-shot surfing exposition, no kids allowed.

"She's in for a nasty surprise."

"Very nasty," Janus said, "unless your godly parent warned her ahead of time. Is anyone going to help me up?" Roman forced himself to compartmentalize. One thing at a time. Remus seemed steady enough on his feet, so Roman stepped over to help Janus up. He couldn't seem to put any weight on his right ankle and clamped onto Roman's shoulder when he tried to step away. "You have two options," Janus said, "help me walk, or grab my keys and bring the car around-- Oh." He looked away, horror dawning in his face, and Roman followed his gaze to see what he was staring at. 

"Let me guess," he said, examining the still-smoking remains of Janus' backpack. "They keys were in there?"

"The keys, my wallet, miscellaneous demigod survival crap. You know, nothing too important."

"I'll go see what I can find." Roman let Janus drop, privately amused by the undignified cry he gave out upon hitting the ground. 

Janus' black Nike backpack had melted and fused with the rubber chips on the turf. Roman poked the mess with the tip of his toe and found it cool enough to touch for short periods, so he knelt and did his best to sort through what was left.

The Kia keys had miraculously survived, although the remote was unusable and the lanyard was nothing more than a pile of ash and melted orange polyester fibers. It sent flames of agony all across his palms, but Roman managed to extricate the car key and a few strange golden coins. He ignored the remains of a few Ziploc bags, but examined the orange Hydroflask with a critical eye. It had a hole in it, but whatever it had once held had a peculiar smell that cut through the stench of burning rubber and made Roman feel strangely at ease. It smelled like fresh-squeezed orange juice, and he could have sworn he caught a hint of guava and vanilla, like the nonalcoholic punch his mom made for the kids when she was hosting parties.

"Take your time," Janus called, pulling Roman back to reality.

Roman flipped him off, and it hurt like his hand was on fire, but it was worth it. Now that the adrenaline was well and truly gone, he just felt sick and wrung-out, and not at all in the mood to deal with Janus' ill temper.

"Got the keys," Roman said, turning around. "And these weird arcade tokens."

"Those are drachma."

"That's funny," Remus said, in a voice that was still much too quiet and calm for Roman's liking, "I thought they were ligma."

"Oh my God," Roman muttered.

"What?" said Janus, eyeing Remus with concern.

"Ligma nuts!" Remus said.

After a long silence, that Roman supposed was meant to restore some sense of dignity, Janus said, "Good to know you're not dying."

"So are we leaving or what?" Roman asked, jangling the keys.

Janus nodded, and gestured for Roman to help him up.

Roman was sure they looked ridiculous as they hobbled across the football field. Roman, who was the least injured, had to support half of Janus' weight as he limped along, and Remus kept getting lightheaded and grabbing Roman's other shoulder for balance. At least Remus was able to carry his and Roman's backpacks, though it slowed him down considerably. 

Roman was winded when they finally reached the parking lot, his shoulders and obliques screaming in protest at the awkward position he'd held for so long.

"Can you drive?" Janus asked when they'd reached the Kia and he could finally let go of Roman.

"Uh, I have my learner's permit."

Janus closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let me rephrase that: You're going to have to drive."

"Where to?"

"New York."

"New York?" Roman repeated. "Are you crazy? Why New York?"

"I'll explain on the way," Janus said, "but we really need to get out of here."

"Fine." Roman helped Janus into the passenger seat and then lifted Remus into the back so he could sprawl across the seats. His head had stopped bleeding on its own, but since they hadn't paused to apply any pressure, blood had dripped down his neck and dried on the collar of his shirt. "I don't suppose you have any first aid stuff?"

Janus yanked open the glove compartment and rattled off the contents. "Manual, registration, Taco Bell napkins, tire pressure gauge, plastic baggie full of mystery pills, novelty Medusa PEZ dispenser, Mapquest directions to the Lotus Hotel, titanium spork."

"Those are Aleve," Remus said, poking his head between the seats. "Can I have about 20?"

"You can have two," Roman said, snatching the bag of Janus' hands. His own fingers were stiff and clumsy and flared up with pain every time he tried to use them, but he couldn't deny the increasing compulsion to be in charge. He had to fix it for Remus, he had to make it better, he had to keep them safe--

"Like, now, or…?" Remus said.

"Sorry." Roman distributed the pills, then passed around his water bottle. "Okay," he said, struggling with the cap while Janus watched with a cool eye. "So, uh. Now I just have to drive to New York. With messed up hands."

"It helps if you get in the car," Janus drawled.

Roman said nothing, but as he walked around to the driver's side, he made a silent vow to hit as many potholes as he could.

"Road trip!" Remus crowed once Roman was seated. "Hey, Roman, how much money do you have?"

"I dunno," Roman said, trying to focus on backing out while only holding the wheel with his fingertips. "Like 20 bucks. You're the one with the backpacks, why don't you count?"

"I get to go through your stuff?" Remus asked, clapping his hands in delight. 

"Just don't steal my good pens or I'll kill you." Roman put the car in drive and lurched forward.

"Accelerate with your toes," Janus said.

"No backseat driving."

"I'm not in the backseat."

"Keep running your mouth and I'll strap you to the roof." Roman turned up the radio before Janus could reply. He'd had enough; his hands hurt, his body ached, he was terrified. He couldn't deal with any more snark and attitude.

He took the on-ramp for I-75 North and started to sing, first to himself and then louder as traffic increased and he got nervous. In the corner of his eye, he could see Janus double-checking all their blind spots, peering in the rear view mirror, fidgeting with his seat belt.

It didn't help Roman's nerves any. He kept singing with the radio, privately grateful that it was already set to a pop station. He noticed two things at once as he switched lanes to let a bright red Maserati blow past him: First, a bone-deep exhaustion that left him so dizzy he nearly swerved onto the shoulder. Second, his hands no longer hurt.

He took one off the wheel and glanced at it, shocked to find the skin as smooth as if it had never been damaged at all.

"Did you do that?" Roman demanded, sparing a glance at Janus.

"What, make you hit the rumble strip? No, that was all you."

"My hands," Roman said impatiently. "They're better. Look!" He showed his palm to Janus, then to Remus.

"Lucky," Remus said. "I feel like somebody pushed me off a 69-story building."

"Nice," said Roman, unable to help himself.

Janus just rolled his eyes and turned back to face the road.

"So how about those answers now?" Roman asked, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

Janus nodded. "But no interrupting. If you don't believe me after everything you've seen, that's on you for being an idiot."

"Who said I was going to interrupt?" Roman said.

Janus looked at him out of the corners of his eyes. "Oh, I just have a feeling."

"We can be quiet," Roman said. He turned the radio off and sat back as much as he could without losing his grip on the wheel.

"Super quiet," Remus agreed. "Silent but deadly."

"Alright," said Janus. "The Greek gods are real. You're the children of one of them."

Roman pressed his lips together, determined not to make a sound. He kept silent as they continued to crawl down I-75 in rush hour traffic and Janus elaborated about gods and monsters and mythology.

It wasn't until the sun was well and truly down, until Janus had gone silent, until it was too late for it to matter, that Roman even realized he had been the victim of reverse psychology.

He scowled and doubled down on his vow to hit as many potholes as possible. Whether Janus was telling the truth or not, Roman didn't like him.