A Touch of Destiny
by Lady Dawson
Chapter One: A Time of Change
My dad always had an old saying: "Nothing last forever except change. Change is the only thing that will always remain constant, no matter how much you may try and stop it. The only thing that lasts forever is change. Sometimes you can't always see it, but you can feel it."
It would be years before I would understand what he meant by that, years before I understood the wisdom of his words. I would be a woman grown by the time that truly understood what he meant by that, but at the time, I was only a kid, not even thirteen years old.
But I can still remember when everything did change for me, when my whole life was turned upside down. It was late May, when the weather had began to turn hot and steamy, making the apartment that my dad and I lived at uncomfortable and made us short of temper.
My dad's Charlie Sawyer; he's an artist that spent most of his life on the road until he met my mom and had me. Even after he had me, he spent a lot of time on the road. My first real memories are of us driving on the highway, but eventually, he settled down in New York, sold his van—which, really, wasn't worth very much—and got an apartment and began getting serious about his work, actually having a gallery done at a nearby studio. If you ever get the chance, you should check some of his work, because he really is an amazing artist.
It was just another day at school as I headed into the building and went to class. I don't have a lot of friends, because most people either think that I'm stuck up or believe that I'm too good to talk to them, because I spent most of my time drawing instead of actually talking to people. It's not that I don't like talking; it's just that I don't know what to say to people when I first meet them. Once I get to know them, then I tend to open up a bit more, but in the beginning, I just don't really know what to say to them, so they just think that I think they're not worth my time.
Anyway, so it was just another normal day at school. The teachers had opened up the windows, because it was getting too stuffy in the classrooms and kids were having trouble concentrating because of the heat and in those old buildings, they have trouble working the A/C, but even with that, it was still stifling hot.
Since the school year was nearly over, my dad was planning our summer trip and we were leaving right after school ended. We did this every single year, taking off right after classes ended and would come back a couple weeks before school started. This seemed to quell both of our restless spirits.
Of course, mine had more to do with my ADHD, which I pretty much blamed on my dad until I found out the truth about my mom. Hey, I was a kid and all I knew about my mom was that she had left when I was still a baby and my dad was always on the move, always going places, never settled with just hanging around the apartment, preferring to see new places, do new things, always looking towards the horizon.
It was just a regular day at school and it was just another afternoon when I walked home to our downtown apartment.
My bags were already packed and I already had my sketchpad and drawing pencils into my travel bag, plus my camera, and I was more than ready to leave, especially before my dad got word of my latest report card. It wasn't that I wasn't bright, but in addition to my ADHD, I also had dyslexia, which made it kind of hard for tests, especially in English, when I not only had to attempt to read the book assigned, but I also had to answer the questions about it, none of which seemed to make any sense. I did try to make sense of it, but the only book that had ever made sense to me was some of my dad's books on ancient artist from Greece, which was written in ancient Greek.
Which is actually kind of amazing, considering that I don't even speak Greek or any other language. English was trouble enough, I wasn't gonna try another language.
Dad, of course, didn't even ask about my grades when he got home, already excited about the trip and acting like an overgrown child as he packed up our bags in the little car that he bought a few years ago and we were in the car and heading out of the city, our sights on the open road and the hood of our convertible down and the wind blowing through our hair.
Like my dad, I have this wild, unmanageable dark hair that is impossible to get under control, even when I have it pulled back into a ponytail, like I usually do. Most of my features are from my mom and Dad says that I look a lot like her, but since I've never met her and don't even remember her, I don't really know if that's true. Whenever I ask about my mother, Dad just gets this odd expression on his face that is torn between apprehension and anxiety and says in a very strange voice that I will know about my mom only when it is time for me to know.
Like that's not at all annoying. Sometimes I think he just tells me that to aggravate me and if he is doing that, it's working. I'm twelve years old, almost a teenager. How long did he really expect me to buy the story that the stork dropped me on his doorstep?
"Dad, seriously," I said as we were driving to nowhere in particular, almost to our destination and nowhere near it. "I'm almost a teenager. When are you going to tell me the truth about who my mom was?"
My dad sighed, his expression changing. "Lily, we've talked about your mother before. And I told you, when it is time for you to know about her, then you will know. But not before."
"But why?" I complained, looking at him sideways. "Why do I have to be kept in the dark? Can't you tell me anything about her?"
He paused, considering slightly, his forehead creasing and he looked a lot older then, almost as if he really were an adult instead of the ageless child that he usually was.
"Your mom . . . well, she was beautiful," he said finally. "You won't believe how beautiful she was." His mouth twitched slightly, as though he were thinking something amusing. "She was the most dazzling woman that I had ever laid eyes on and I'd seen some pretty beautiful women before."
"Dad," I said, making a face. He chuckled.
"Sorry. But your mom, she . . . she put all of them to shame. And I've never met anybody who could compare to her, though her daughter comes pretty close," he said, giving me a grin. "You look so much like her, Lily. You have her eyes," he added, glancing at my wide, sky-blue eyes, so unlike his narrow, brown ones.
"We were only together for a short time, but we had that . . . that amazing summer together. I had never thought that I would feel the way about a woman the way that I felt about her. But then she had to go away and then, about nine months later, I find you on my doorstep, with a message from your mom telling me that you were my daughter."
"So she abandoned me?" I asked, feeling worse now and wishing that I hadn't pestered him. At least then I wouldn't know that she had walked away from me.
"No, she didn't abandon you," Dad said gently. "But she has a higher calling, a duty that none of us will ever understand. Lily, one day you will know who your mother is and when that happens, you will understand the need for secrecy. I know that it doesn't make a whole lot of sense now, but one day, it will, I promise."
"But when?" I pestered, looking back at him, my curiosity getting the better of me. "When will it make sense?"
Dad paused, his gaze going vacant as he stared ahead of him, considering his words very carefully. "I don't know, Lils. But I think it'll be sooner than you think," he said at last, which really, was no answer at all and just brought up more questions than answers.
"Where did you guys meet?" I asked.
His brown eyes sparkled suddenly at the . . . well, not a completely change of topic, but this seemed to be at least steering into safer waters.
"It was in this little town in California," he answered brightly, "they have this festival every year for artists, so I used to go there to do drawings for people, selling them for a buck apiece. Your mom was there," he said with a small smile. "She came right up to me and asked me if I could do her portrait, which I naturally agreed to. I know I'm gushing, Lily," he said, chuckling, "but she really was a sight. Picture the most beautiful woman in the world and you wouldn't be anywhere near what your mom looked like.
"So when I was done, I gave it to her and she was pleased by the work, looked absolutely thrilled by the piece, which I have to admit was some of my best work, but she just gave me this secretive smile and told me to keep it with me, maybe it would bring me luck.
"I didn't see her again for months, when she came back and . . . and I started falling for her. It was hard not to," he added dryly. "But eventually, she had to leave and I was left lonely and depressed for nine months, until you showed up. A little bundle of joy," he said, grinning.
"Where did she have to go?"
"Back to her home," Dad answered, his forehead creasing again. We were back in dangerous territory. "Back to . . . where she belonged, where she had to be at."
As annoyed as I was by the answers, I knew that my dad, who could be as cryptic as guys can be, would give me answers eventually. He would have told me if he really thought that I was ready for them, but the time for me to know wasn't yet.
"I know you want answers, Lily," he told me not unkindly. "And you have every right to know them, but the time isn't right. You'll only be in danger if you know the answers now. Believe me, this is for your own protection. Your mom warned me a long time ago that the answers will put you in danger."
"Danger? Danger from what?"
But my dad just pressed his lips together tightly and stared ahead of him, his face grim as he tightened his grip in the steering wheel. I sighed and looked out the window, towards the bright, sunny sky and leaning my head against it, wondering not for the first time who my mom really was and when I would find out the truth.
But before I could ponder on this too long, my gaze fastened on something else entirely, something in front of us and I shrieked. "Dad, look out!"
Dad let out a curse that he hasn't used in front of me in my twelve years, slamming on the breaks and doing some quick manoeuvring, spinning the steering wheel rapidly so that the car spun around, making tire tracks on the old road that we were on and making me almost want to vomit. Then he put his foot on the gas and we were driving back the same way that we had just come, but going twice as fast, breaking the speed limit ten times and I was gripping the seat tightly, glancing over the seat towards whatever it was that we were about to hit.
It was following us, I realised, and going a lot faster than anything that I had ever seen.
"Lily, hang on," Dad instructed, pressing his foot down even harder on the gas. It squealed in protest, but that didn't stop that . . . whatever that thing was. It just kept on speeding up, almost catching up with us, despite that we were almost past the speedometer's breaking point.
Without warning, Dad slammed his foot on the break. Note to everybody, wearing your seat belt actually does have some benefits, because it actually does prevent you from sailing through the windshield and I'm sure that if I hadn't been, then I would have been on the concrete road, with two busted teeth and a spilt lip. And that's assuming that I survived flying out a glass window. As it was, I still was flung forward and hit my head on the dash board, both from the sudden stop and from that thing hitting us from behind.
Dad looked over his shoulder towards it, then towards me. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently.
All I could do was nod, not even really aware of what was happening as Dad tried to turn the car back on, but all it would do was whine and groan, the engine spent. Dad had probably broken it from the driving, plus whatever had hit us from behind felt like it weighed a ton, so that probably didn't help.
Dad cussed again when he realised that the car wouldn't start and unbuckled his seat belt. "Get out of the car," he ordered.
There was no time for questions or whatnot, from his tone. I did as I was told, grabbing my bag from the front seat and scrambling out of the car as fast as I was able and Dad pushed me ahead as I heard a groan coming from behind the car.
"Run, now!" Dad ordered. "Do not look back." For the first time in my life, I actually heard true fear in his voice and I obeyed, running as fast as my legs would carry me. Where I was going, I had absolutely no idea, but all I really cared about was getting away from that thing, because I knew that it was either very dangerous or very deadly.
Or possible even both.
My legs were crying out in protest, not to mention, I'm pretty sure that I hit them when Dad slammed on the breaks, plus I'd never been good at track and field, so running for me wasn't the best way to get away.
And unfortunately, that thing that was following us was already recovering, which somehow scared me even more than the thing itself did. Dad had hit that thing pretty hard, so if it was already recovering, then what chance did we have at getting away?
My dad let out a harsh grunt and I turned to see him fall as the monster caught up with us. I can't even describe what it looked like, but it was definitely something that was ripped out of my nightmares, something that you would only see in fantasy novels and movies, something that was definitely nothing of the normal, everyday world.
And my dad was right upon him.
"Dad!" I yelled as the monster was right up on him, but Dad, already moving, was springing into action, striking the monster as hard as he could, but his blows failed to have any effect.
"Lily, run!" he ordered between blows, looking over at me, his brown eyes meeting my blue. I hesitated, torn between the instinct to flee and to stay and help my dad. "Lily, I am ordering you to run! Now!"
I couldn't move; my feet were frozen where they were, both due to fear and the inability to leave my dad to die. He was all that I had, the only parent that I had. How could I just leave him?
Refusing to leave him behind, I moved forward to help my dad when he flung out his hand to stop me, pushing me out of the way and leaving himself in harm's way to the monster, who used the opportunity to send him flying into an opposite tree.
"DAD!" I howled, scrambling to my feet, my eyes falling on his fallen form, lying motionless not too far away.
His wild, dark hair was falling all around him, his brown eyes were closed, and he was completely still. I couldn't even see him breathing and there was blood coming from somewhere, but from my position, I couldn't see where it was coming from.
A low grunt caught my attention and I realised that the monster was coming straight at me. I ducked and threw myself sideways, thankful that Dad had made me take gymnastics since I was a kid, because seven years of it was finally paying off.
I somersaulted over him, landing on the palms of my hands and pushing myself back up, landing easily on the ground before I turned around to face the monster, who was rearing up for another attack.
Somewhere in the chaos, I noticed something flicker behind me and I threw my glance over my shoulder to see something appear in a golden light, a form appearing right behind me. A quiver of arrows and a bow, the quiver made of ivory with golden symbols along the side of it.
Not thinking twice, I raced for the quiver, snatching the bow up and grabbing an arrow, sliding it into position, my fingers already knowing what it was going to do before I did.
The monster was already moving into attack as I pulled the arrow back, taking aim before I fired, hitting my mark. A howl escaped from the monster as he stumbled.
I didn't think twice; snatching up another arrow, I fired again, hitting him again with accuracy, this time managing to down him completely. Not taking any chances, I released a third arrow, hitting the monster in the head this time.
It didn't move and I took a tentative step forward, grabbing the quiver of arrows and sliding it over my back as I walked forward, circling around the monster and making sure that it actually was dead—though I don't know how I was supposed to tell—before I raced around him, heading straight for my dad, still lying motionless next to the tree.
"Dad?" I whispered anxiously, touching his shoulder, but he didn't reply, didn't even notice that I was there. "Dad, wake up! Come on, it's over, you have to wake up! Dad? Daddy?" I whispered, my mouth trembling as he refused to respond to my cries. "DAD!"
But even though my mind refused to process what was happening, I knew what had happened. Dad had never kept me waiting before, always risking everything whenever I needed help, dropped everything that he was doing just to make sure that I was okay. When I broke my arm during a gymnastics practice when I was eight, he had left the gallery when this big time agent was coming to see his work. He had always put me first, always, and if he wasn't responding to my cries, wasn't responding to my shaking, then the only explanation was that he was . . .
How long I just sat there next to my dad, begging him to wake up, I have no idea, but eventually I heard another car approaching and I tensed, my mind instantly flashing to the worst conclusion; that something else had come like that monster.
Instantly, I stood up, grabbing the bow and sliding another arrow into place, pointing it towards the new arrival, but the guy who climbed out—who walked sort of funny, like he had problems with his feet—held up his hands to stop me.
"It's okay," he said loudly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. My name's Eli. I'm here to help you."
AN: Okay, this is my first Percy Jackson story, so please be kind, but I have the next chapter all ready, so if I get four or five reviews by tonight, then I promise, I will update it tonight, so please review? Please?
Lady Dawson