The Demigod Interviews: Sean Andrews Read online

remember the tall, scarlet-haired woman who looked like she would rather chew nails than deliver bad news to a family about a Marine’s passing. The fake female Marine who’d delivered the news who changed his life.

  She looked exactly the same as she had when she’d delivered the news of his father’s passing, only in civilian clothes. Her seat was closer to the field, almost directly behind the Spartan’s sideline on the field. She wore a worn Spartans Jersey with the number 12 on it and the last name “Zeuner” emblazoned on the back.

  Sean knew there was no way in the world he would be able to confront the coach of the Spartans, but he knew he could talk to the other one. Gwendolyn. When he sat down, Sean turned to his mother. “Hey, Mama, I saw an old Boot Camp buddy in the stands, I’m going to go say hello.”

  “Oh, by all means, Sean! Take your time, we’ll see you soon!” Sean didn’t worry about apologizing to Albert, the novelty of showing off the “Drill Sergeant stepson” had worn off earlier in the game, and now the man was focused on cursing at the losing Pirates.

  Sean walked out of his seat and down towards the front where the woman sat. She was sitting with a few people he did not recognize; a red-headed woman and two small children. From the looks of the section, the seats were made up entirely of Spartan family members. Half the people in the rows surrounding Gwendolyn were wearing jerseys, or holding signs to cheer on their favorite Spartan.

  The seat behind Gwendolyn was empty, so Sean sat down in it.

  ♂♂♂

  The trick is to act like the seat belongs to you, he thought, in dress uniform, with the recent war going on, noone is going to stop a Marine from sitting wherever the hell he likes.

  ♂♂♂

  Sean sat quietly for several long minutes until a play on the field was called in the Spartan’s favor, and the whole section where Sean now sat stood and cheered, Gwendolyn included. As she turned to take her seat again, she saw Sean and stopped, with a frown.

  “You.... that’s not your seat,” she said. Sean sat forward.

  “Gwendolyn Martin?”

  “My name,” she said sharply, “Is Marissa Zeuner. Gwendolyn Martin? She was my mother.”

  “And Coach Harry Zeuner is your father.” Sean said, strongly. The redheaded woman looked at ‘Marissa.’

  “Is this man bothering you, sweetie?” the redhead said carefully placing her hands on one of the boys beside her.

  “No, Lisa. This is an old friend of mine, from back when I was in the Corps. He and I need to go have a talk, right? I’ll meet you, dad, and the boys after the game if I don’t get back.” Her eyes never left Sean’s as she spoke. They had the same reddish-purple tinge that Sean’s eyes had, an oddity Sean had used to frighten the Recruits on a number of occasions.

  Sean stood and walked out of the stands with the young-looking woman. The two left the section and walked towards the concession area, her arm wrapped around his as if in a death grip.

  The two said nothing until they were out of the seating area.

  “You figured it out, good for you!” she said when they were alone. Sean said nothing, “Most of my brothers live their entire lives never getting it. What clued you off?”

  “Who do you think I am? What do you mean, brother?”

  “I can’t be certain who you are, but...late twenties, maybe early thirties, Marine Corps, last name Andrews. I’m going to go with my little brother Sean. Sean, we share a father.”

  Sean said nothing for a moment, staring at Marissa. She looked to be his age, despite his memory of her being an adult when he was young. It made his head ache slightly. “I don’t believe you.” he said after a long moment.

  ‘Marissa’ said nothing. For fifteen seconds, she had an angered look, like she was about to pick up something and beat the Marine senseless with it. Then, she regained her calm, and spoke.

  “It always falls to me to tell you boys this. Sean, what do you know about your father?”

  “Marine, presumably dead on a ruck march in Vietnam.” He said quickly, “Though I think... I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Ever meet his parents? His brothers or sisters? Any of his other kids?”

  “My mother always told me my father was an orphaned only child.” That was what his father had told him, as well, when he asked. “And I was his only child.”

  “But I’m your sister.” She said, cautiously reaching into her pockets with her left hand. Sean froze for a moment, until she dug out a cigarette and lit it up. She offered him a cigarette, and shrugged her shoulders when he declined.

  “I don’t see how, unless Dad cheated on mom. He had to.. you look at least a few years younger than I do.” Sean snapped before remembering what drew him to see this girl.

  “Except....” she puffed her cigarette. “I’m older than you are. You remember Gwendolyn.”

  “I thought she was your mother.”

  “I am Gwendolyn. Lisa out there,” she spat the name, “our stepmother, knows me as Marissa Zeuner. And Marissa Zeuner inherited all her possessions from the late Gwendolyn Martin. It’s an old immortal trick: fake your death and leave everything to yourself.”

  Immortal? “What do you mean?”

  “You really are as clueless as the rest of my brothers.” Marissa took a drag off her cigarette. “Follow me.”

  She dropped the cigarette on the ground, extinguishing it with the toe on her left boot before leading Sean to the locker rooms. She pulled a pass out of her pocket with the Spartans logo on it. He could hear voices inside. She closed her eyes, opened the door, and stuck her head in, shouting.

  “Dad!” she said loudly into the locker room.

  “Yes, Princess?” He heard a rough voice say from inside the locker room. The room was filled with voices and shouting of Spartan players. It must be halftime already Sean thought. From within the crowd, he saw the man walk out through the barrage of football players. Another coach started talking to the team, delivering some sort of pep talk.

  Sean was speechless as he saw the coach standing in front of him. The coach was stocky, with wide shoulders and deep auburn hair. His eyes burned with the same reddish hue that Sean recognized from the mirror (and now from ‘Marissa’). He had a hard jaw-line and heavy eyebrows. It was the exact face that had stared at Sean from the official portrait on the wall for many years.

  “Dad, I have someone you need to meet.”

  “Aww crap. You found Apollo again, didn’t you?” That was when Coach Harry Zeuner noticed Sean Andrews for the first time.

  “Sean... my boy!” The coach said loudly.

  Sean did the one thing he never imagined he would do: he punched his father directly in the face. His knuckles cracked as they connected with the coach’s obviously adamantium jaw, breaking the Drill Instructor’s knuckles. Marissa threw her hands back at the Security guards who came to pull the Marine off the Spartan’s Assistant Coach.

  “Son of a--!” The coach shouted, “I ought to...” He reared back as if to return the blow to his son, when Marissa stepped between them. Sean stepped back a few feet.

  “Father, NO!” she shouted. “You forget wh—where you are.”

  The coach threw up his arms and stepped back, and Sean did the same. The truce was held only by Marissa’s place between the two men.

  “You are my father?” Sean asked, carefully.

  “Your mother’s name was Peggy. You were born in... 61... no 62 in Texas.” The coach said, rubbing his face. His cheek was pink from the small scuffle. Sean’s fingers did not recover so quickly; he was convinced he’d sprained his wrist, at the minimum, in the fight. “Marissa, take this Marine back to the stands. He has done me proud. Boy.... keep up the good work.” The coach went back into the locker room, strutting proudly towards his team, leaving his children alone.

  “Wh... how....” Sean stuttered, “He hasn’t aged a day!”

  Marissa shook her head, showing a bit of boredom. She’d seen this sort of altercation before. “Sean... the answer is really simple. Our dad is...” As Marissa spoke, a loud air horn blasted, blocking out what Sean heard.

  “Say again?”

  “The first time I’ve seen one of my brothers flat-out attack him like that. I don’t know it that makes you stupid, brave, or moronic. Oh, wait... Marine. That makes you all three.” She cracked a slight smile, as if making her own joke, “Sean, Staff Sergeant Andrews, our dad is Ares, the god of War.”

  ♂♂♂

  That’s it, missy. That’s when I learned my father’s real identity, that I was the son of a god. At this point, I should have thought that the girl, Marissa, was joking. And part of my Marine-Corps backbone told me she was. Except... my father was a Marine.

  ♂♂♂

  Sean Andrews looked at the college student sitting across from him with a bit of trepidation. She’d known, or seemingly know, about his father and family history before talking with him, otherwise, she wouldn’t have contacted him about his “family ties to the US Marines.” And he’d told no one, before today, about the stranger in the jail cell and his words.

  “So, one last question, Mr. Andrews. Why do you think your father made you?” She asked, her eyes piercing through her glasses. It was an odd question.

  “I thought about that, recently, when the news hit that Coach Harry Zeuner died,” Sean said thoughtfully. “And that was the only time I ever met my father, so I never had a chance to ask. But I think I know.”

  The girl sat quietly, as if waiting for the answer.

  “I think I was born