Notes:

This story includes translated paraphrasing. I won't be translating them into English due to story efficiency. I don't want a bunch of phrases in parenthesis after each quote; it doesn't look good.

Rated T for language.

I don't own any of Rick Riordan's characters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Taking a car ride from San Carlos to New York probably wasn't the best idea at the time. It would take at least forty-six hours, and that would only be near the Great Sacandaga Lake. I was trying to get to Manhattan, near the West New York Union City. That whole ride would probably end up in a three-day-long journey full of restroom, fast-food, fuel, and hotel stops. Or I could just sleep in my car… Yeah, I'm not doing that. Besides, I'm not the one driving, my stepsister Aliyah is.

We were already sixteen hours and twenty-seven minutes into the drive, and in the state of Colorado, near Rifle. Aliyah pulled off at Exit 90. It was getting pretty dark, and when I looked out of the passenger window, an Inn was just across the grade separation.

I pressed my index finger against the laminated glass. "Aliyah," I dubbed. "There's an Inn over there."

Aliyah briefly glanced over, and then looked back at the road. "Mhm. Let's see if we can get over there without the hassle of driving through half of the city." She continued forward until we came upon a roundabout with some sort of garden in the middle of it. A cut-out of a rusted outline of a cowboy riding a horse as three rusty cut-outs of cattle stood before it. They were surrounded by what looked like Ginkgo biloba trees that looked half dead and bushes that seemed to be randomly placed anywhere.

My stepsister just slowed down at the stop sign, doing a California roll, and made a U turn on South 7th Street. On the right-hand side there was some sort of storage unit building, that looked like a bunch of garages stuck together, with a huge yard on the left of it. As if it used to be a junk yard, but all of the "junk" was deported out.

Aliyah pulled into the Comfort Inn & Suites, parking in a handicap space. She wasn't handicap, and neither was I, but she'd gotten one of those blue handicap parking permits so our journey would be a lot easier.

The two of us got out of the car with our luggage in hand. All I had was my plaid drawstring backpack that held most of my possessions—clothes, bathroom necessities, a few fictional books, and my Windows PC. I stretched my arms above my head, hearing a few pops in my back. Yep. That felt so good.

Aliyah popped her neck on either side, shaking out her hands. All she carried was her purse, since she'd be dropping me off in New York and then leaving me to go back to California.

At any rate, Aliyah and I headed to the hotel's lobby. On the right side of the lobby was a wooden and marble counter where a young Italian-looking man stood; his black hair slicked back and grey pinstriped suit wrinkleless. Two chairs were placed in a little waiting niche near the corner, with a coffee table in between them. Down the hall looked as though that was where the rooms would be.

My stepsister walked up to the Italian man and smiled kindheartedly. "Ciao," she greeted in perfect Italian, even though she looked all American. "Mia sorella e ho bisogno di una amera, per favore."

I stood beside Aliyah, looking at the man's nametag. It read Lazzaro in fancy cursive lettering, like Freestyle Script or French Script MT on Microsoft Word.

Lazzaro acknowledged me with his chocolate brown eyes, and then looked back at my sister. "Naturalmente. Che tipo di camera desiderate? Uno o due letti?"

"Due letti singoli."

Lazzaro nodded admissibly, jotting down something hidden from my view. When he was finished, he handed Aliyah two room cards and said, "Si paga quando I esce."

Aliyah only nodded and adjusted her purse's strap on her shoulder, placing a warm hand on the back of my neck. "Come on, Mara, let's go hit the hay."

So we walked past that waiting niche and down the hall, making a left. Aliyah told me that our room was number two-three-o, so I kept my eyes peeled for the room.

It happened to be on the right-hand side, right by the snack vending machine. (Finally, some junk food. The entire trip so far, Aliyah had gotten me to eat nothing but turkey sandwiches on whole-wheat bread and so many apples.) I made sure my five dollars was still in my shirt pocket. Yep. Okay, I was all set.

Aliyah clicked the light on. It was a spacious suite with a flat-screen television. Everything was fall colors—mustard yellow, maroon, olive green, and grey. The carpet was dark blue with spots of grey. A picture of an acrylic-painted tree hung above the far bed in the room and a house above the other. On the other side of the half-wall was a red-orange sofa sleeper. A picture of the beach hung over that.

"Wow," I said, dropping my bag on the sofa. "This place is… big."

Aliyah strolled past me, putting her purse on the closest bed. She started rummaging through it. "Mara, I'll be right back. I'm going to that gas station just down the road—near that roundabout—to get some fuel."

"Can you get me some wintergreen Altoids?" I asked, sitting down beside my backpack. I unstrung the holder and clicked it open, taking out my PC. "Oh, and a Coca-Cola too. I haven't had one of those in a day."

"Twenty-four hours," Aliyah mocked, taking out the car keys and jingling them. "I'm sure you'll be fine, Mara. Just until we get to New York, okay?"

"Fine."

She smiled, as if she'd just achieved some big accomplishment or something. Aliyah came over and ruffled my hair. "I'll be back, don't worry." She opened the suite door. "If the phone rings, don't pick it up."

"But what if it's that Lazzaro guy—"

"No one."

Aliyah closed the door before I could say anything else.

I sat leaned back on the sofa, perching the heels of my feet against the side of the couch. I rarely every went on my computer, because Aliyah always warned me that it'll disrupt the cell phone signal, so she won't be able to call her friend who was in New York. Yeah, whatever.

Turning the PC on and going to Google Chrome, I searched NEW YORK and then clicked on 'Maps'. It showed me a directions manual thing in the corner, and I typed in CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Now, you might be wondering why I'd be searching for some camp. Well, the thing is, it's this strange site that is undetectable to the mortal eye that Aliyah used to tell me stories about. How she'd gone there last summer, made great and powerful friends, and even found a love life. I was curious to look it up.

Anyway, my results for this search came up empty. Like, literally empty. All it did was zoom me in on Montauk, Long Island, and then it randomly moved to the North Shore, near Sands Point and Davids Island.

"This sucks," I said to myself, closing the computer and placing it next to me.

The only reason I was curious about this camp, was because Aliyah told me I was going there this summer. And apparently my summer started a week before school got out. Yay. But then again, I'd have to retake all of my finals I'd missed… Darn.

I stood up and walked to the bathroom and closed the door. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, all I saw was a random teenage girl who looked as if she'd just come out of an anime high school show.

I wore a white button-down French Toast shirt that had a chest pocket, pointed collars, and was apparently made in Bangladesh. Wherever that was. A plaid boxpleat skirt that fit at the waist, nylon knee socks, and black-and-white meandros-printed adidas shoes. Everything was black except for the laces, eyelets, stitching, and tongue label.

I had my hair cropped short, so there wasn't anything I needed to do to my hair. I pulled it back in a headband once and a while or clipped my backs back with a bobby pin, but that was it.

"I should probably change into pajamas."

I walked out and rummaged through my backpack, pulling out my P.E. uniform from school. It was a grey T-shirt with the school's logo on the front—W.B. stitched in white over the heart—and a pair of navy blue basketball shorts.

Making sure the blinds were closed, I changed quickly, stuffing my clothes into my bag without folding them. (I'd do it later.) The rest of the time, I laid on the far bed near the window and read one of my fantasy novels. I won't tell you what it's about 'cause I'm afraid I'd go into some rant about it, but it's good.

By the time the digital clock on the nightstand struck nine o' clock, I was starting to get worried. It had been half an hour since Aliyah drove to fill up the gas tank in her car, and she still wasn't here.

Like a cold shock, that was when the suite phone rang.

I guess you could say I flipped out, but the ringing scared me. My book flung out of my hands and onto the ground, making a thud sound. My poor baby.

The phone kept ringing and I kept hesitating.

What if it was the Hash Slinging Slasher?

God damn, Mara, get a hold of yourself.

So, just like Aliyah had told me not to do, I picked up the phone and pressed it to my ear.

"Hello?" I said through the transmitter. My grip on the handset tightened and I could feel my palms starting to get sweaty.

There was static on the other side… "Hello? Hey, can you hear me?"

I sighed unconsciously and replied, "Yeah, I can hear you."

"Oh, thank the gods." It was male, and his voice sounded distant when he said, "Hey, you guys… yeah, I got it." His voice became louder. "Hey, sorry 'bout that. You've got to be Mara, right? Aliyah's sister?"

Stepsister. "Yeah," I responded.

"Oh, that's good… that's good." He paused for a while, then announced, "Hold still, we're going to pick you up."

Wait. "What?"

"Don't worry," he said. "You'll be fine. You've got Aliyah."

"I don't understand—"

"You don't need to understand. We'll pick you up and then get you to Montauk. No biggie." There was a feminine voice in the background saying, "Percy, hurry up. Aliyah called and we need to go, now." "Okay, okay—hey, Mara. Yeah, we'll pick ya up soon. I've got to go. Bye!"

The line went dead and all I could do was stare with a discombobulated expression on my face. Confusion and worry washed over me as I peeked through the blinds and still didn't see Aliyah's car. Something must have happened, or she just got lost in the town. Looking back on it, Rifle seemed like a confusing place with all of its roundabouts.

I placed the phone back on the switchhook, but changed my mind and put it on the table instead. No one will be bothering me tonight.

I was pacing back and forth, biting my thumb nails off like a little hamster. The idea of sleep would come up, but I would push it to the back of my mind. I didn't need sleep right now, even though the front of my head felt heavy and my eyelids kept closing.

Half an hour later there was a knock at the door. At first I was fanatical to open it, because hey, it might just be Aliyah with those wintergreen Altoids in her hand saying it was just all a cruel joke. But I was hesitant when the knocking turned into banging.

I grabbed my book from the ground and held it as a weapon as I slowly stepped toward the door. I felt as if I was in some sort of horror-based movie, and Jonny was going to break down the door with an axe at any given moment.

"Who—who is it?" My voice faltered, and I knew this sudden courageousness was being strained.

A bang. "Mara, it's me!" Another bang. "Let me in!"

It was Aliyah.

I threw my book on the sofa, ignoring the fact that it tumbled to the ground, and opened the door. Aliyah stumbled in, her clothes all scratched up and bloodied, her hair a mess. She closed the door behind her and sunk to the floor, gasping in raspy breaths. All I could thing to do was kneel beside her and ask what was wrong.

"I was… being chased," she sighed, shuffling to make herself comfortable. "They're coming… and… we have to go."

I sighed, the stress of not knowing anything getting to my head. "Where?"

Aliyah carefully took something out of her back pocket and gave it to me. "Take it," she said, that forlorn twisted within her tone, pressing what looked like brochure in my hand. "They'll be coming, so you should… hurry. Get to the car and press the… uh… omega on the dashboard."

My head could have exploded, but Athena kept that intact. I was freaking out, because something like this had never happened to me before, and why would I go when Aliyah obviously looks hurt?

"What about you?" I asked quickly, shoving the brochure into my pocket. "You're coming with me, right?"

Aliyah gave me a sly grin and tried to stand up, using my shoulder and the wall as support. At her waist was a sheathed leather scabbard I hadn't noticed before. Why? I wasn't sure, but I acted as if it was no big deal, and it really wasn't at the moment.

"I'm going to stay here," she stated, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. She placed her hands on my shoulders and we locked eyes, our emotions being clearly read by one another. "If anything happens—an explosion or whatever—don't get out of the car. Understood?"

"But—"

"Am I being clear?"

I bit the inside of my mouth, clenching and unclenching my hands. "Yeah." My head felt lighter and I could feel almost every pulse in my body—the pumping of blood running through my fingers was one. A static ringing was muffled in my ears, and most of everything was three times clearer.

Aliyah nodded her head, her hazel eyes glazed with determination. "Alright." Her hands dropped to her sheathed weapon and slid it out with grace. "On the count of three, I want you to run as fast as you can to the car, m'kay?"

"Wait." I hopped over to my backpack and gathered my things into it. "Before three or after three?"

"One…" She readied her weapon, a bronze dagger.

I shut up and grabbed my book from the door, putting it in the little space I had in my bag. The thing wasn't heavy, but it would annoy the fuck out of me when I ran down the hall and out of the freaking lobby.

"Two…" Aliyah gripped her dagger's hilt with white knuckles, her other hand hovering over the door's locks. Maybe she was afraid whatever followed her would come bounding in.

Everything was going too fast, and I barely had enough time to put on my shoes before Aliyah more or less yelled the number three. She bolted out of the door like Black Widow on a serious mission—charging down the hall as if she owned the place.

The best I could do was hobble after her, my backpack slipping down my arm, and my feet sometimes stepping over each other. I got the handle of it after while (a while being five seconds), because something was following my stepsister. It was dark and looked transparent, with hallowed eyes and no real facial features.

Aliyah plowed through those ghost-looking things like they were shadows (they probably were), cutting them down as they disintegrated into grey powdered dust. I ran maybe a few feet behind my stepsister, ducking under flying ghoul matter.

They kept coming, and I knew I was out of shape when I could hear myself breathe as Aliyah and I slowed down near the lobby entrance. Lazzaro wasn't behind the counter anymore, but slumped against the wall with his chin touching his chest.

"Mara, run to the car. Go!" Aliyah was slicing the dark spirits away with such ease, she totally reminded me of Black Widow at this point. (Maybe she was reincarnated…)

I did the logical thing and obeyed Aliyah's orders, and freaking ran. Those ghosts got in my way a couple of times, but Aliyah was quick to the punch and did them off effortlessly. Pushing the lobby doors open, I sprinted my way across the parking lot towards the Toyota Yaris on the other end. Why Aliyah had to park so far away, I had no idea.

I hurried inside on the driver's side, closing the door, and locking it. On instinct, I ducked when three of those strange dark ghost things came flying over. They couldn't get it, which I thought was bizarre, as they just hovered around.

Now was probably a good time to remember that I had a certain button to press on the car's dashboard. And I did… and nothing happened. Except, for the fact that the ghosts were retreating, shaking as if they'd been hit with a blast of high frequency. Soon, thankfully, they combusted into grey dust that covered the car's hood and windshield.

The button was a fluke…

I realized that everything had gone quite while I was having a personal moment. That is, until the Comfort Inn & Suite sort of, kind of, blew up. I dropped low and covered my head as I learned back in junior high school. The explosion caused a wave of extreme shuddering as everything was shaking around me.

Five…

Ten…

Fifteen…

Twenty…

That was how long I waited in the silence. No one ran up to the car with their dagger in hand and curly hair in a whirling mess, telling me everything was going to be alright, and that we'd make it to Manhattan safely.

Aliyah never walked out of the smoke that steamed from the remains of the Inn. It seemed as though nothing remained… That was when the hedonism started settling in, and the self-blaming. All those times I could've been a better stepsister or even a better friend. I started thinking about my family, and how they'd have to hear that their daughter was dead. That's what I assumed anyway.

My head started to hurt, and my eyes started to burn with salty tears. I stared at the dashboard, the omega button that didn't do anything, with an inexpressive emotion masked over my face. Though, the tears streamed down my cheeks like ever-flowing rivers, dripping at the end of my chin or turning into the chasm of my nostrils.

A knock, so distant and quiet, it sounded as if I were in a dream.

You can't read in a dream—I could comprehend every letter carved into the steering wheel.

You don't have five fingers and toes in a dream—I wriggled my toes and looked my all five of my fingers on each hand.

In dreams, you distinguish familiar faces that you've seen before—When I looked out the driver's widow, all I saw was a stranger staring back at me.

This isn't a dream, darling.

Notes:

I'll update as soon as I can. Thanks for reading this so far. :)

I am also accepting any sort of OC characters (all kinds) in this story. I will give you credit and follow you. :) Suggestions are welcome as well.