Zoë, the premier huntress of Artemis, hadn't felt scared in millenia.
But here, stranded and alone, clutching furtively to her bow, cornered in a dark alley, the beginnings of fear, that unfamiliar emotion, began to claw at her heart. Grimacing, she shifted to her knives, scanning the darkness with both eyes.
A chuckle; she turned and lashed out in a blur of silver. The knife raced through the air and struck a wood post- where she perceived her attacker's voice to be. Another chuckle, this time darker, filled the air.
"Stop playing your games, you coward. Come and fight me!"
Her attacker was positively laughing now; his guwaffs filled the alley from every which direction.
A tall figure stepped from the shadows; before he could react, Zoë flicked her wrist.
The hunting knife flew through the air and ripped through the figure, sending shards of black clattering to the floor. Wait… shards?
A mirror. She'd struck a mirror. Which meant… she turned to find herself staring at a black wall. Moss crept up the sides, adding to is ethereality.
Her mind flew far past fear and landed somewhere between terror and horror. Her breath quickened; as she shouted, her voice trembled: "Your silly games have no effect! You have done nothing; soon my mistress shall come and end you…"
Another chuckle, this time louder.
"If I were to kill you, don't you think I'd have had enough opportunity? Relax, huntress. I mean no harm."
She didn't trust the voice.
From out of the shadows strolled a dark-haired boy.
Her immediate thought was that he looked elfish- like a young James Bond; his dark suit only made to complement the image.
Sharp, handsome features, glinting eyes- a stage magician, perhaps. An illusionist. Perhaps a killer. Certainly not one to play games.
"What do you want from me?" she hated the way her voice cracked.
"I want nothing- nothing other than the location of the fabled 'Camp Half-Blood.' You've heard of it, I assume?"
"Of course. Long Island sound."
The boy tapped a contemplative finger to his lips. "I'd have thought so… I was a fool to ignore such a magical hotspot. Very well. You may leave."
Zoë frowned. "The exit being…?"
He gestured vaguely to the darkness. The air cleared suddenly to reveal a large, empty street.
They were in a shallow inway, not even a dark alley; nothing could possibly suggest it. Sunlight, previously blocked, filtered through the cracked walls. This did not look remotely like the dungeon she'd expected.
No, not remotely. This looked almost like… a playplace. Perhaps a field- or a park, shadowed between two large buildings.
"How-"
"The Mist. All legacies of Hecate have some control over it; I am… mother's favorite. She's blessed me with… certain… advantages.
I'm rambling. Your… group… should be searching for you; take a left and you should find them."
He turned and flicked a white-gloved hand; a cloak flew up to obscure his image. It fell, motionless, upon the floor, taking what remained of the boy with it through the shadows and into nothing at all.
Percy grinned. Dramatics, dramatics… he loved them. There was a reason his mother called him her favorite; that counted as quite a lot from the goddess of Magic and Mist.
Shadow-travel was barbaric, really. Mist-travel was far more convenient- no screams, no motion sickness… he'd take it over its darker cousin any day.
He materialized in Puget sound with a dulled pop and surveyed his surroundings.
Dark rocks littered a large, sandy beach leading up to steep cliffs. He'd aimed it perfectly. Near-perfectly, anyways.
Squinting, he could barely make out the outline of a large house.
Alarms suddenly blared; he looked around, alarmed, as screams and footsteps echoed through the din.
"Intruder! Intruder!"
Whirling, he turned and leapt behind a large cluster of rocks- and just in time, too.
A small group of armored demigods rose from behind a large forest, peering nervously across the seemingly empty beach. Percy closed his eyes and willed the mist to veil him; it bent to his will.
Now only the sharpest of eyes could possibly make out the distorted heat haze lying on the boulder.
It would be interesting to see how this one played out.
"Search the perimeter!"
So the huntress hadn't lied. This was the demigod camp. Interesting… he'd have liked to arrive under less… unpleasant… circumstances, but no matter.
The group of demigods had now fanned out through the beach; they worked quite efficiently, scouring every tree and enclave.
He still wondered how they'd gleaned his location- much less, his arrival. Nothing short of a Golden Fleece would be that magically perceptive.
Percy held his breath as a blonde, grey-eyed girl prodded the rocks around. She sniffed the air like a bloodhound, casually leaning against the rocks near him…
"Aha!"
She jabbed the blunt end of her spear with a sudden vigor; Percy was could only watch as it struck his stomach. The veneer of translucency instantly wore off; he crumbled over the rock surface, clutching his abdomen. How had she known? The Mist served as a near-transparent medium.
The important thing was not how she knew, but that she knew- and that the troupe of Campers now sauntered to his prostrate form. He instantly rolled aside, dodging another thrust of the spear.
Coughing, he willed the Mist to him; the air around him clung to his stomach, repairing the bruise with efficiency.
"Who are you?"
Percy grinned. "I am Percy. Percy Jackson."
He stood suddenly, eliciting another jab of the blunt end of the spear, which he caught easily between his pointer and middle finger.
"I need to see your… leader. Or director. Or whatever you call that here."
"Ha!"
She ripped the spear from Percy's hand and swung again in a massive undercut; Percy whirled around. The sharp end cut through the edge of his cloak; he winced. He treasured that heirloom.
The other demigods had their spears, bows, and arrows levied straight at him now, all nervous. They'd seen his sudden and lightning-fast reactions, and they certainly didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of this stranger's punches.
Percy held up his hand in an act of surrender.
"That's better." the girl spat. "We'll take you to the counselor, all right. But not after you-"
She shoved a spear at his throat; he stared at the tip unflinchingly.
"Answer a few questions."
"Alright. Shoot."
The girl narrowed her eyes. "How did you get into camp?"
Percy frowned. He decided to lie. "I… I shadow-travelled."
"You… you're a child of… of Hades?"
Percy rolled his eyes. "Ha! Of course not. I wish."
This final revelation was accompanied with a scoff.
"No; of course not! I'm a child of Hecate and the chosen of Phobos, personally. They grant me certain... powers."
Seeing her disbelieving look, he added, "I swear it on the Styx."
Thunder boomed in the distance despite the absence of clouds.
"Alright. We'll bring you to Mr. D then. He'll question you further."
Normally, Percy wouldn't mind being surrounded by a troupe of his own kind. Provided, of course, that said group wasn't bloodthirsty and carrying spears.
He could tell his mother's errand was about to get a lot more complicated.