Author's Note: Hello, hello, hello! I'm Maikle, and I'm super excited that you're here right now! Whether you're rereading an old favourite or checking out a new story for the first time, I'm happy you've come to my zone. ^^ Prepare to dive into the exciting universe Rick Riordan spun in his popular series, and have fun saving the world with Erasmus Porter and Nico di Angelo. If you haven't read the Percy Jackson and the Olympians, Heroes of Olympus, or Kane Chronicles series, you'll want to go do that first, or nothing will really make sense in these following chapters. If you intend to read all three parts, be sure to check out Riordan's crossover novels too. Of course, all of Riordan's characters belong to him, but the rest belong to me, so please do not steal them! Now, enjoy~
Title: Three-Way Bridge, Part 1: Freak Fears
Universe: Percy Jackson and the Olympians / Heroes of Olympus / Kane Chronicles
Main Characters: Erasmus Porter (my OC) / Nico di Angelo (canon)
Reyna Ramírez-Arellano (canon) / Coach Gleeson Hedge (canon)
Carter and Sadie Kane (canon)
Rating: M for sexual content
Summary: Follow Erasmus Porter, a Christian orphan, as he is thrown into a world of magic and danger on the eve of his sixteenth birthday. He battles Greek/Roman monsters and Egyptian demons, searching for answers about his goddess mother and magician father. But the greatest challenge of this unfazable young man is a handsome son of Hades...
I was getting sick of harpies. Two of them—exceptionally more ugly than any of the others—had managed to trail me closely for the past three days without getting turned to dust. I had been running for almost a month now, but the harpies were more determined than any of the other monsters I'd met. My tactics included "fight unless you can run," and most monsters couldn't keep up with me, or got distracted by something else. Usually the latter. Harpies, however, seemed fixed on a large order of Erasmus fries, since they kept threatening to slice me to pieces before consuming me.
It had started one rather boring day at school, with a substitute teacher. She introduced herself as Marbella, and said that Mr. Carmine, our usual homeroom teacher, had called in sick. As she said this, I could have sworn she laughed, but no one else reacted, so I figured it must be my overactive imagination again. I didn't trust my imagination again after she went into roll call.
"Anthony Pierce?" she said eventually, in a high, snuffling voice, like she had a slight cold of her own.
"Here, Ms. Marbella," Anthony answered sweetly. He was the golden boy of the class, always trying to show me up, make me look bad. I didn't know what he had against me, but I never really cared enough to find out either.
"Erasmus Porter?" Marbella called next. Before I could even raise my hand in acknowledgement, she looked straight at me, and grinned... baring fangs. I stared, and realized her hair was on fire. For a moment, I almost started shouting "FIRE!" but the last time I'd done that, I'd been hallucinating and had to go to a shrink for months. I closed my gaping mouth and raised my hand timidly.
"Here," I muttered. Marbella seemed to notice nothing amiss and continued roll call. After class, when the bell rang, she dismissed everyone. Except for me.
"Erasmus," she said loudly, as though to make sure everyone heard. "I'd like to speak with you a moment." Giggles and chuckles swept through the class and I wished I could disappear.
"Yes, ma'am," I said politely. Gathering my things, I made my way to the teacher's desk. She waited until everyone was gone before saying anything.
"I understand that you're an orphan, Erasmus," she said, her voice getting silkier. I had the strangest feeling she was trying to cast a spell on me, but I shook it off. There was no such thing as magic. The closest thing to magic that I believed in was miracles from God. But those were the will of the Almighty, not some human claiming supernatural powers.
"Yes, ma'am," I answered carefully. For some reason, I hated her, but my father had always taught me to be polite to everyone, so I was.
"What happened to your parents?" she asked smoothly. I felt it would be wise to at least pretend like she was getting the effect she wanted, so I answered, thought I didn't like it.
"My father died in a car crash last year, and I never knew my mother," I said. "She disappeared right after I was born."
"How old are you?" she asked. I shrugged.
"Sixteen tomorrow," I said, like it didn't matter, which it didn't.
"Sixteen!" She seemed surprised. "And not yet claimed? Looks like the gods are getting lax again." She smiled evilly. I wondered vaguely what religion she was. Obviously she didn't believe in God, from the Bible, but she didn't seem to be a Muslim, or a Hindu, or any other religion that believed in gods of any sort. And she wasn't an atheist either, since she did believe in at least a few gods.
"Um, claimed?" I asked, confused. Her smile broadened, and she got a look of pure joy in her eyes. Somehow, it didn't make me feel any better.
"It's nothing, child," she said.
Suddenly, with no warning, she reached out and slashed her fingers across my chest. I cried out as pain flared in lines where she'd touched me and I stumbled back, into a desk. Looking down, I gasped at the rips in my shirt, and the blood flowing freely from jagged cuts across my chest. I looked back up and gasped again. Marbella no longer looked human. Sure she had a humanoid form, but her eyes were blood red, and her hair was on fire. She bared fangs dripping with saliva, and spread hands of claw-tipped fingers. When she leapt up onto the desk, I gasped again, at her legs. One was hairy and thick, like that of a horse or a cow, and the other was bronze colored. I hoped it was just for show, but the clank of her metal leg hitting the desktop, and the smell of her animal leg assaulting my nose said otherwise.
"Indeed," she continued, "your life ends here, so everything is nothing!"
"W-What are you?" I asked, horrified.
"Me?" She cackled, taking her time to enjoy herself. "I'm nothing but an empousa, here to kill you, little demigod." Empousa? Demigod? What on earth was she talking about?
I had no time to deliberate; she snarled happily, if it was even possible, and jumped at me. I threw up my hands to ward her off, though I knew it would do no good. Prayers were flooding my mind for God to accept me into heaven when I heard a cry of surprise, and then a heavy thud. I glanced over nervously to find her against the wall, in a daze, rubbing the back of her head. Wondering how she'd been knocked back, but not eager to stick around and find out, I took my leave.
"Get back here, you little wretch!" she screamed moments after I vanished. I tore down the hall toward the playgrounds, bumping into students trying to get to class on time. Marbella dashed out of the classroom and glanced around until she found me. I gasped and began shoving students aside to get away. Most of them just moved out of the way, confused as to why I was running. I didn't know how they could miss the empousa slowly gaining on me, clomp-clank, clomp-clank, but I didn't stop to ask.
Outside, I rounded the corner of the building and dove behind a dumpster. I should have chosen somewhere else, because the moment I dropped down into the corner, I knew she would see me as soon as she passed me.
But she didn't. She raced past me, pulling to a stop just over a yard away and looked around. I nearly jumped out of my skin when she looked right at me, but she didn't see me. Growling in frustration, she stomped her hoof and strode away. Trembling, I breathed a sigh of relief and prayed thanks to God for hiding me from the monster's sight.
What if she came back? I couldn't come back to school tomorrow, or she'd find me, but where could I go? I lived at the orphanage, but...
A chill swept over me. If she had managed to become a teacher to get me, then she must know where I live. I had to leave. For good. I jumped to my feet and took off for the orphanage.
The little building used to be a barracks for a nearby military base that had been abandoned since before the Civil War. Someone had converted it to an orphanage for the parentless children of the town that had grown up in the area only a few decades ago. It had been my home for the past year, and would remain so until I turned eighteen.
Or it would have. Now I was on the run, and I was glad to finally have a reason to get away.
When I got there, I sneaked into my room and began shoving my small collection of clothes and my meager belongings into a plastic. Then I knelt by my bed and pried up a loose board. The day I arrived, I found it while exploring and stored some money and emergency snacks there, just in case. Now I needed them; I emptied the space and threw it all into my backpack, which I'd somehow managed to keep a hold of in spite of the chaos, stuffing the bag of clothes in after it. Later I would go back and organize it, but time was of the essence at the moment.
And then I left. I was surprised at how easy it was, though I had entertained the thought of running away since I'd first gotten there. Now, I followed the plan I had so carefully thought out but didn't think I'd need. I took a cab to the edge of the city, hitchhiked from there to the next town, and then walked to the nearby forest.
Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on being attacked by other monsters. Dark, seal-skinned dog-like creatures came first, howling as they swarmed after me in a pack. I vaporized one, on accident, when I tripped through a bush and made a branch snap back just as the hound-creature charged. For a moment, I stared at the gold dust that floated away on the wind from where the monster had just stood. Another snarl sounded by my ear and I whirled to face another one. It snapped at my face, but I ducked and it collided with another that had tried to attack me from behind. In the ensuing chaos, I managed to escape, but I used that experience as a lesson, and found several long, relatively sharp branches that I planned to use as spears (of sorts) the next time I was attacked.
Later that week, after several other attacks, I found a nice-sized club, with which I bashed several small Cyclopes. One of them left behind a dagger that was large enough to make a good short sword. Those two weapons became my weapons of choice, and I survived for another week.
Often, when I was attacked, the monsters would ask if I was with Greek or Roman, or they would call me 'demigod,' or, on one occasion, another empousa—not Marbella, thankfully—called me a 'son of my mistress.' I didn't know what any of them meant, but after the first few attacks, I didn't bother with diplomacy. And after each inevitable battle, though worn and sore, I would drop to my knees and thank God for protecting me once again.
Two weeks after the incident with Marbella, the first harpy attacked. She came in the middle of the night, waking me with her foul stench, and was intent on taking off my head. I killed her with a single stab that dispersed her into a cloud of gold dust and soiled feathers, but no sooner had she fallen than another found me. And then another and another. That's when the running-for-my-life part started.
Every day, I'd outdistance them, only to have them catch up while I slept. I learned very quickly how to become a light sleeper, and eventually realized that I had some sort of... internal radar that told me when monsters were near, and where they were coming from. I got very little sleep over the next week, and even less food—most of it was leftover at picnic places, or swiped from convenience stores that I stumbled into every once in a while—but I continued to evade the filthy bird-women. I had no clue where I was running to, or if there was any place I could go for safety, but I trusted God to lead me to such a place if it existed.
The harpies were persistent, and many of them learned to time their attacks to deal the most damage on me. No matter how many I vaporized, there always seemed to be that many more. And of course, two of them, smarter than the rest, managed to survive the entire time. I got weaker and weaker as the days passed, and the harpies grew bolder and bolder. Exactly three weeks and four days after it all started, I would have died had the giant statue not arrived.
§§§
At the time, I had been running nonstop for two days, and needed sleep. I collapsed at the bottom of a hill around sunset and laid out flat. If the harpies found me, I didn't care anymore. Let them come. Let me die, and hope my soul was welcomed into heaven. Sleep dragged at my eyelids.
"There he is!" a woman's voice screeched. I groaned. Too soon; go away, and let me rest. With a sigh, I pulled myself to my feet and raised my sword, shaky. I was too tired to go swinging my club around, so I just let it drop at my feet. Even though I wanted nothing more than to lay down and go to sleep, I wasn't about to die without a fight, no matter what I said.
"Get him!" By now I could see the gross, dirty monsters. Thankfully, the sun was at my back, so I wasn't blinded as they swarmed toward me, en masse. They dove at me, and I slashed, cutting down two in a single stroke. But before I could lift my sword again, two more dove down and knocked me back, their talons cutting deep into my shoulders. I winced, falling to one knee, but didn't cry out.
"God, give me strength," I gritted out, standing. Blood loss was taking a toll on me, though, and I wobbled unsteadily, dropping my sword arm. The harpies saw this and screeched gleefully. Four or five dove at once and I just watched now, knowing I wouldn't be able to stop them all. As they plunged toward me, I made peace with myself, preparing to die.
The shadows around me warped and stretched. Startled, the harpies swerved off and retreated, squawking, but only for a moment. I just stared, as shocked as they were. When a huge, towering figure began to take form, I scrambled back, terrified. The two smart harpies ignored it, focusing on me and calling their comrades to do the same. They all shot toward me, screaming profanities, and I tore my gaze away from the figure to stare instead at the incoming monsters. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the figure resolve into three other shadowy forms, human-sized forms.
Oh, great, I thought. More monsters. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting for death.
"Reyna, Coach Hedge, help him!" a young man's voice shouted, weak, but commanding. Two people appeared beside me, one on my right, and one on my left.
"Bring it on!" the one on my right shouted. I saw that he brandished a baseball bat, but that was it.
"Come on, kid," the one on my left said kindly, but firmly. "Sit down over here and let us take care of this." She maneuvered me down beside another kid, just younger than me, and hurried back to join the other person, who was whapping the harpies out of the air, matching each of their curse words with a challenge of his own. The two smarter harpies were still stupid; they dove at the guy, who smashed his bat down on them at the same time, vaporizing them. The girl drew a sword and slashed the harpies one after another, exploding them into gold dust. I noticed that the guy wore a brightly colored tropical shirt, and the girl wore armor over an equally bright purple shirt, each with writing on the front, though I couldn't read what they said.
Then I saw the guy's legs. He wasn't wearing any pants, but it had looked like he had because they were covered with fur. Peering closely, I could just make out the tips of horns poking out from his unruly mass of dark hair. I couldn't believe it. I rubbed my eyes and looked again, but it was true; the guy was a satyr. But the only reason I knew he was a satyr was because I was interested in mythological creatures. Satyrs were from Greek mythology, and... No way...
"Are you alright?" a soft, tired voice asked beside me. I jumped sky high and gripped my sword. The boy beside me lifted his hands to show that they were empty and repeated himself. "Are you alright?"
"Uh... er, yeah, I think..." I stuttered, my voice hoarse. It had been so long since I'd talked to other humans that I had trouble knowing what to say.
"Harpies can be pretty nasty," the young man beside me said. His tone suggested that he didn't usually initiate conversation either, so I guess he was just trying to help me relax. I was thankful for it.
"Yeah, yeah." I took a moment to inspect him. He was dressed in a bright, colorful tropical-touristy shirt like the satyr's that read Isla del Encantorico and black jeans that were ripped and splattered with mud and ruddy-brown splotches; I knew instantly the splotches were dried blood. Dark hair curled in his exhausted face, dipping into his jet black eyes, which focused on me, narrowing in recognition and confusion. Slash marks crisscrossed his biceps, inflamed against the pale skin around them and cut through by the dark lines of in-the-field stitching. I noticed a glint on his hand and saw a silver skull ring that made me shudder. This guy radiated death and darkness, despite the colorful shirt, but at the same time—maybe because of the shirt—he seemed kind and generous, albeit in a dark way.
I happened to glance over his shoulder and saw a huge white foot. Terrified that it might be a monster, I leapt up and raise my sword. Instantly, the boy was there, one hand on each of my wrists as he stared me in the eye. He was just about my height, maybe a few inches shorter, but I only barely noticed this.
"Calm down," he said, in a voice that was smooth and firm. Despite his obvious fatigue, his gaze was lucid and sharp. Looking up at the figure behind him, I realized it was a statue. I blushed my embarrassment, and he started slightly. Immediately, he released my wrists and stepped back, biting the corner of his lip and furrowing his brow in agitation. I was too busy taking in the stature to care.
It was some forty feet tall, and made of something like ivory and gold. With the sun setting behind it, I could easily imagine that this was a very important statue.
It was a woman, one hand resting on a shield, from behind which a snake poked out. The pale-skinned woman was dressed in a gold robe-like dress, over which was battle armor, including helmet. A spear leaned up against one shoulder, and in her other hand she held a life-sized statue of what looked like an angel. The whole thing looked like it would come to life at any moment and start attacking anything in its path, but it stayed still, staring down at me like I was a strange insect that had crossed its path, like it was deciding whether to keep watching or just go ahead and crush me.
My inspection ended as the other two joined us, panting. The girl, who I guessed was Reyna, sheathed her sword and dropped to the ground to care for a cut on her arm. Having had to do the same on numerous occasions, I crouched beside her.
"May I...?" I asked, gesturing at the wound. She scowled, uncertain what to make of me.
"I've got nectar, and I can care for my own wounds," she said, pulling a satchel to her and taking out a small flask. She took two quick sips and handed the flask to the satyr, who had to be Coach Hedge, then reached back into the bag for a first-aid kit. The satyr downed a huge gulp, which cause the boy to snatch it away.
"You have a death wish, don't you, Coach?" he asked, taking the tiniest sip, no more than a drop or two, before handing it back to Reyna.
"Eh. Maybe," the satyr said, shrugging. He flopped down onto the ground and glanced at me. "So what's your name, cupcake? Who's your godly parent? What are you doing in the middle of no–"
"Hedge!" Reyna snapped. "Give the kid a break; he's exhausted..." she also glanced at me. "Oh, and injured." With that, she brought out the flask again and held it out to me. I stared at it, wary. What if they were really monsters, acting friendly to gain my trust before devouring me whole? Honestly, from what I'd seen, I wouldn't put it past them.
I could read their shirts, now; Hedge's shirt was almost identical to the boy's, though a bit more torn up and a bit less bloody, and Reyna's just had the letters 'SPQR' stamped in thick black print.
"It's nectar," the boy said when I didn't take the flask. "It'll heal you." I cast him a skeptical look.
"Not one for words, is he?" Coach Hedge chuckled. I frowned. "Well, serves him right if he dies." Fear shot through me and I snatched the flask. Then I hesitated, but took a tentative sip. Warmth flowed through my body, concentrating at my wounds. It tasted like warm, fresh, creamy macaroni and cheese, one of my favorite meals that my father used to cook for me. I wondered at it, and went to take another sip, but Reyna quickly grabbed it.
"Hold it, kid," she said, capping it and slipping it into her satchel. "Too much nectar and you'll burn up from the inside out. Now let me see about those wounds; nectar can only do so much." As she cared for my injuries, I glanced between her and the guy in black.
"What is it exactly?" I asked.
"Oh look! He can talk!" the satyr exclaimed. The other two ignored him, so I did the same.
"It's nectar," Reyna explained, wiping off blood from my shoulder with an alcohol wipe, which made me wince. "The drink of the gods. It heals most any injury, but it can be pretty slow for major injuries. Ambrosia is the edible form, but we don't have any with us." She paused and tilted her head to the side to inspect me. "Are you Greek or Roman, kid?" I stared blankly.
"Why don't we start with introductions?" the boy said with a sigh of annoyance. "I'm Nico di Angelo. That's Coach Gleeson Hedge, a satyr protector, and this is Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, praetor of the Roman demigods."
"I'm Erasmus Porter," I answered automatically. Then I registered what he said. "...Demigods..." I sat down hard. All three of them bent over me worriedly. "It can't be... Those gods don't exist!" Reyna snorted, and Coach Hedge guffawed. Nico frowned.
"I said the same thing not too long ago," he said, "and here I am, a son of Hades."
"Hades," I repeated, feeling the blood drain from my face. "But... Hades is the god of the underworld, the equivalent of Satan."
"Satan?" Reyna said, surprised. "You mean you–"
"I'm a Christian," I confirmed. "I don't believe in any gods except the Lord, but..." My head was spinning. If ancient pagan gods existed, did that mean the God of the Bible was a myth? I shook, refusing to believe that I had been living a lie until this moment.
"Hey," Nico said gently, crouching next to me and reaching out, pulling back just before he touched my shoulder. His hand blurred like smoke for a moment, but when I looked again, it was solid; I must have imagined it.
"Until very recently," he continued, "the Romans and the Greeks didn't believe the others existed. And then Camp Half-Blood met Camp Jupiter. The Greek and Roman gods are both still alive and present, albeit at war with themselves. Why can't your God be alive as well?"
"It's not... You don't... It doesn't work like that," I whispered mournfully. I ran my hands through my hair, and again Nico pulled away, staring at the ground and biting the corner of his lip. I saw another flicker in his eyes, this time of pain.
"We can debate the existence of gods later," Coach Hedge said after a short pause. "Right now, I'm hungry; let's eat, and then get some sleep. We've still got a long way to go." Following his own advice, he reached into his own bag and brought out some fresh fruit and sandwiches.
After almost a month of nothing but berries, roots, and the occasional bit of leftovers I could scavenge from trash cans and corner stores, my mouth watered at the sight. Reyna took the food and doled out some of everything to everyone, giving Coach Hedge the wrappers and plastic bags. He devoured them instantly. Reyna ate quickly, but in a strangely delicate way, and Nico took a tired bite out of his sandwich, looking like he was about to collapse at any moment. I took my portion and tried to savor it, but it was gone too quickly.
Reyna must have seen the sadness and disappointment in my face, because she took Coach's bag long enough to bring out another sandwich that she silently handed it to me. I thanked her and gulped it down in just a few bites. Nico and Reyna both watched me with vague familiarity, as though they had seen me somewhere but couldn't remember where. At least, Reyna couldn't remember where; Nico seemed to know exactly where, and didn't really enjoy it.
Finally, Reyna snapped her fingers.
"Percy," she said. "That's who he reminds me of." Nico looked away quickly, and I wondered if he and this Percy guy were enemies. I frowned.
"Who's Percy?" I asked. The name was familiar, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.
"Only the most stupid demigod in existence!" Coach Hedge cried, belching. "In his first summer at Camp Half-Blood, he was accused of stealing Zeus' master bolt, and destroyed half of America to find it." That clicked; Percy Jackson. His face had been plastered all over the news as a menace for several weeks long before my dad died, acquitted later when it was discovered he'd been kidnapped. I wondered now what the real story was.
"During his second summer," Hedge continued blithely, "he sought out and battled more monsters than most demigods meet in a lifetime, just to get the Golden Fleece. He became invincible for a while in his third summer to defeat Kronos and demolished the Labyrinth in his fourth, and just last summer, he and Jason brought the Romans and Greeks together! Stupid kid for a son of Poseidon."
"Master bolt? Labyrinth? Jason?" I was more confused than I'd been my entire life. Certain things were memorable from the myths of ancient Greece I'd studied, like Jason and the Golden Fleece, but I got the feeling it wasn't the same Jason, especially given the looks of respect on Reyna and Nico's faces.
"...Long story..." the latter muttered. He glanced at me and I saw something in his gaze that, for some reason, I recognized, but couldn't place. "Let's get some sleep; Coach is right, we're going to need it. Reyna?"
"I got it," she said, putting her fingers to her lips and whistling. Two metal dogs appeared out of nowhere, bounding over to their mistress' side. I stared in amazement at the gold and silver dogs, and they stared back with glinting ruby eyes, as though trying to decide whether I'd make a good snack.
"Aurum and Argentum," Reyna said, patting the dogs on the head. "Just ignore them, Erasmus; we'll stand guard while you sleep."
"Thanks," Nico managed, his eyelids drooping. With that, he stretched out on his back, crossed his legs at the ankles, and tucked his arms under each other. Coach Hedge grunted and tromped around in a circle for a moment before curling up like a dog.
I lay back, and almost immediately fell into a restless sleep filled with disjointed images; my dreams were as scattered as always.
Until Nico stepped into them.
My dream landscape settled on the hills outside the house I'd stayed in with my dad before he died. It was night, oddly enough, and the full moon lit up the scenery almost as efficiently as the sun. Nico stood beside a couple of chairs on the porch, looking around in surprise.
"Y-you're in my dream!" I exclaimed, awed. He glanced over at me, blinking, and then recovered, shaking his head.
"This is a first," he muttered. "Usually I get pulled into Clovis' dreams."
"Clovis...?" I felt a, sadly, familiar sense of confusion settle on me.
"It's not important," Nico said, waving dismissively. He focused, and then frowned. "What the...?" Focusing again, he gritted his teeth in agitation when nothing happened. "Why can't I...?" Breaking off, he looked at me, annoyed. I felt certain he'd love to slap me upside the head and blame me for whatever trouble he was having. Could you get stuck in someone else's dreams? At least mine had settled for once; I didn't like the constant shifting back and forth between my past and images I couldn't understand.
"Whoever you are, you're powerful," Nico admitted, grudgingly impressed. "No one has ever been able to keep me in a dream if I want to leave." Sighing, he glanced at the chairs, about to sit, and then shook his head, apparently deciding not to sit. Instead, he stepped off the porch and strode past me, jerking his head in a clear invitation. "Mind walking with me?"
Hurrying over, I caught up as he reached the gate, and held it open for him. He nodded his thanks, silent and thoughtful. I wondered what he was thinking about, and remembered his reaction when Coach talked of Percy. I knew the name and face, but the person was still a mystery to me.
"So, this Percy..." I prompted as we left the house behind, passing the only other house in the area and continuing toward the hills. Nico tensed, glancing at me, his steps faltering for a moment. His eyes were shining in the starlight, and now I could read the pain and sorrow as easily as a book.
"...Percy Jackson was the first demigod I ever met that was aware of his abilities," he said softly. I heard the pain as easily as I'd seen it. "He protected my sister and I from a manticore before we realized who we really were. He... was my hero." Gauging his emotions, I took a leap, hoping that he couldn't kill me in a dream.
"I reckon he was more than a hero," I said gently. Now Nico stopped. I paused two steps later.
"Who are you?" he asked tersely. "You look about fifteen, sixteen, but you somehow managed to survive without knowing anything about demigods and monsters. You pulled me into a dream and kept me here, something even Clovis can't do. You talk little, if at all, yet still you see something in me that I've managed to keep hidden from Percy and the others for several years, and you've known me for less than an hour. Who are you?" I stared at him. He'd just proven my theory, all but saying it aloud, and at the same time asked a question I couldn't answer. Obviously the former was a taboo subject with him, so I switched tracks to the latter.
"...I don't know," I answered, staring into the rolling mounds that I used to watch for hours as a child, wondering if they really could roll. Oh, to be a worryless child again. "Not anymore. I used to be the son of a great Christian. I used to be a great Christian myself. I used to be... I used to be an average kid. Now..." I sighed. "Now I'm a freak."
Nico scared the living daylights out of me; he took the two steps between us in an instant and slapped me across the face. Stunned, I raised my hand to my stinging cheek as he jabbed his finger at my nose.
"Never. Say that. Again." His eyes flashed in anger and frustration. "You are not a freak. Even if you were, what would that make me? I control the dead! I command legions of ghosts! Compared to me, you are a normal kid, Erasmus!" I shivered when he said my name; part of me loved it, but I tamped that part down as quickly as I could.
Waves of cold darkness radiated from him, shrouding us both. Aware of how close he was, and knowing his preference, I wanted to take a step back, but I was mesmerized by his eyes. Though they were a dark, almost-black brown, they shone like gold in the light of the moon that made it through the shroud of darkness. I couldn't stop staring, and he seemed to realize this; he stepped past me, continuing toward the hills and muttering unintelligibly. I followed silently just a few steps behind.
The darkness faded, and the stars shone brightly. I found the Big Dipper, and turned to look across the sky. I located the three stars of Orion's Belt and imagined the hunter firing shooting stars at the bull as he tried to reach the Seven Sisters.
Something about thinking the hunter's name sent a chill up my spine, like he was right behind me...
"Erasmus!" The sharp warning tone brought my attention back to earth. I had been walking backward, and whirled as Nico called my name, just in time to collide with him. We fell, and I landed practically on top of him. He stared at me, his face slowly flooding red. I stared back, feeling a sudden knot form in my stomach. The feeling shifted and I shoved myself off him before he could realize my reaction. I stood and tentatively held out my hand to help him up. He took it, cautiously, and let me pull him upright. When I didn't let go immediately, he jerked his hand away, blushing furiously.
"Stop taunting me!" he hissed. "You know my secret; keep it that way, or I'll haunt you long after you die." I was tempted to blackmail him, but I knew I couldn't do that. Besides, I had to deal with the sinful pleasure I'd felt being on top of him. The thought sent a wave of tingling nerves through my body and I began to blush again. I covered my face with my hand and looked away.
"Erasmus?" Nico was annoyed and confused, but I couldn't explain anything. Even if I tried, he wouldn't understand. Would he?
No; no one would ever understand me.
Steeling my long-time resolve, I shook my hand dismissively as I turned and headed back toward my childhood home.
"Good night, Nico," I said, succinctly. He didn't say anything, but I felt him, I sensed him behind me, like a disturbance... A disturbance in what?
Just as I reached the house, my dreams dissolved into snippets of scenes, as they had been every night since the incident with Marbella. I saw a woman in forest green breaking through the ground, I saw a camp in flames, I saw bodies littering fields, and I saw an old-looking ship that flew through the air. I also saw a pair of kids just younger than me, a boy and a girl, who didn't seem to fit with the rest of the snippets, and I wondered if I would ever get to meet the people I saw in my dreams.