In his penthouse apartment over the past week, Apollo had spent a good deal of time trying to divine the whereabouts of various children of Ares. Annoyingly, he’d got a really good reading on Deimos (who was lurking about Long Beach California) and pretty much nothing at all on Telos (the signs just said: far. Thanks a bunch, signs.)
Marcie, though.
There was still a faint and tenuous connection between him and Marcie. She’d killed him, he’d cursed her, and while the curse was broken, a fingerprint remained. An echo. She’d murdered him, and he’d been deep inside her, that was going to take a while to fade. It took a good deal of concentration to find her, though, and twice he’d read the signs wrong and turned up at the wrong cafe, but no one needed to know that. It shouldn’t have taken him almost a week to find one mortal, but no one needed to know that he’d been trying for a week, either.
She was the best connection they had to Kaden, but more than that… Ares had given him permission to talk to her. He’s said Apollo was welcome to her. ‘Just don’t do anything Aphrodite wouldn’t like and don’t kill her’ he’d said. Apollo wasn’t about to pass that up, petty as some siblings might call it.
He raised his hands to show he was unarmed, to show he was not here on the attack. Not that either Much or Marcie believed him - both knew he didn't need to use his hands to hurt them, but Much had still thrown his arm protectively in front of her, which was very heroic and cute. "Look," said Apollo, calmly and reasonably since the woman behind the counter was frowning at them. "I just want to ask you some questions. We can do that here, or I can follow you home. Your call."