"He's changing," I gasped. "Help. He's...He's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please-"
"NO!" The evil spirit inside me used me to speak his words. I was looking around for my sword, but it was in the hearth, glowing among the coals.
I stumbled toward it. The dark-haired boy tried to stop me, but I pushed him out of the way with such a force he landed next to the blond girl and cracked his head against the base of the throne. "The knife, Percy," she muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero...cursed blade..." I reached down and grasped my sword. Then I bellowed in pain and dropped it. My hands were smoking and seared. The hearth fire had grown red-hot, like the scythe wasn't compatible with it. I saw an image of a brown-haired girl frowning at me in the ashes. I collapsed and clutched my ruined hands. "Please, Percy..." The boy struggled to his feet. He moved toward me with a knife. I knew what he was going to do. I moistened my lips. "You can't...can't do it yourself. He'll break control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can...can keep him controlled." I was starting to glow now, my skin starting to smoke. He raised the knife to strike. Then he looked at Annabeth, at the goat-boy cradling her in his arms, trying to shield her from me. My insides felt like they were starting to burn. "Please," I groaned. "No time." He gave the knife to me. The goat-boy yelped. "Percy? Are you um...um..." I grasped the hilt and unlatched the side straps of my armor, exposing a small bit of skin just under the left arm, a place that would be very hard to hit. I had to work faster. I felt like I was burning. With difficulty, I stabbed myself. It wasn't a deep cut, but I howled. The room shook. I felt incredible pain. Deep pain. Not only physical, but emotional. I knew I had let somebody down. I knew I was doing the right thing. "I'm sorry." The words were stuck in my throat. I knew I was going to die. "I'm sorry." The light surrounded me. Everything seemed to explode. Pain seared through me. My arms, legs, hands, feet, neck, and face felt like someone was branding them with a hot iron. Someone poked my ribs...calling a name..."Alex! Alex! ALEX!"...
I blinked my eyes. I wasn't in the white room anymore with the two boys and the girl. I was on the bus, sitting next to my best friend, Mike. He was jabbing at my chest sharply.
"Hey, Alex! Dude!"
"What?"
"You totally zoned out on me, man."
"I did?"
He gave me a funny look. "Duh."
Mike Walker was my one and only friend. He was African American with brown skin with dark eyes. He was wearing his normal clothes –a t-shirt, hoodie, jeans, and his old beaten up Converse.
"You all right?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to tell him about my little daydream but quickly decided against that. "Uh…yeah."
Despite my ADHD and dyslexia, I was one of the most popular kids at Woodbury High School. Blond hair, blue eyes, tan skin –lots of girls fell for my killer looks. Besides those features, I also sported a fading white scar that ran from my right eye to my jaw. But that didn't stop the high school girls from gushing over me.
"Bye, Alex." Carly Hansen, the head of the cheerleading team giggled.
I nodded absentmindedly. "You too."
She ran off the bus with her friend, squealing all over my answer.
I knew I had almost everything I wanted. I had Mike. I had any girl I wanted. I had Lisa, my perky and caring Spanish foster mother who made the best tacos. The only thing I didn't know was about my childhood. I don't remember being a kid.
Caring Kids Orphanage had been my home before I moved in with Lisa. I had stayed there when I was fifteen. Then at age sixteen, I had been sent to Lisa temporarily. The orphanage had told me that they had found me on the streets at age five. I had lived in the institution for seven years before they started sending me to different adults that would foster me for a month or two or maybe even a year. The orphanage started to get crowded when I returned from one of my 'parents' so they sent me to live with Lisa. Possibly until I was at least seventeen or eighteen and got a job.
What was funny was that I didn't remember any of my childhood. I didn't remember the other adults that had taken care of me. I didn't remember the caseworker that had brought me to different places. I didn't know what or who I had been before. All I remember is darkness and a speck of light in the distance. Then I remember waking up in Lisa's house. And her calling me Alex.
The only memory I carry is those quick flashes of action. Places and names called out to me in the visions. In all of the scenes, the kids had called me Luke. One time they had called me Luke Castellan and said that I lived in Connecticut. My dream-body had answered on its own. I had never told anyone about the weird images or else they would think that I'm crazy and –God forbid- send me to a nursing home where I would be treated like a baby. Besides, why would I want to ruin my reputation at school?
I heard Mike in the distance, talking about how hot a girl was and that snapped me back to the present.
He was looking at me as if waiting for an answer.
"Say what?" I asked stupidly.
Mike groaned and slapped his head. "You didn't hear a word I said?"
"Uh…I don't think so."
"You don't think so! You gotta stop disappearing into some magical world where there are rainbows and pretty ponies and pink clouds with sugar candies when I talk to you."
"Hey! It's not my fault!" I protested. "It's just that sometimes I can see -" I cut off suddenly.
Mike peered at me carefully like he was examining me.
"Here," he said. He shoved a card into my hand. "This is where I'll be working for during the summer. I want you to come with me. It's a summer camp for…really special people."
"When does it start?" I asked.
"We've gotta go tomorrow."
"Tomorrow! Dude, school doesn't end for another week!"
"Well, it starts tomorrow. Are you coming or not?"
"Uh…"
"Henderson, are you getting off?" the bus driver called.
"Wait!"
I slung my backpack onto my shoulder.
"I'll stop by your house tomorrow morning at nine," Mike said. "If you aren't leaving, then I can't leave either."
"I don't know, man…"
"Henderson! Make your choice!"
"Okay, okay. I'm coming." I walked down the aisle and swung out the door. "See ya."
The bus doors closed and sped away. I walked the short distance to Lisa's house. It was gray with neat white shutters. The door slammed behind me.
"Hello?" I called. "Lisa? I'm home!"
The house was strangely silent.
"Lisa?"
I walked into the kitchen. Everything was normal. The black granite countertop was shiny and clean. The metallic sink was empty.
I shrugged and walked over to the refrigerator. There was a yellow note stuck onto it.
Gone out to buy some things. Get a snack from the fridge. Love you, Alex!
XOXOXOXOX ~Lisa
I smiled to myself. Lisa would be back in a few minutes. I grabbed an apple from the fridge and a few plastic-wrapped cookies from the cabinet. I then dumped my homework out and stuffed the food and a change of clothes into my backpack. I would go the camp with Mike tomorrow.
I went back to the kitchen with my backpack and homework and started on it. At five, Lisa still wasn't back. I began to get worried. I nervously fingered my necklace. It was a leather thong. Tied on it were six clay beads, each a different picture on it. It was one of the things that had kept on appearing in my memories.
I went into my room and my jaw literally dropped. It had been ransacked. A chair was turned over. My clothes and other things in my drawers were littered on the floor. There were deep gouges in the wood of my bed, on my desk, and on the walls and closets. I had a feeling it wasn't made with a kitchen knife. When I had been in there a few hours ago, my bedroom was normal. It was a miracle that I hadn't heard the intruder from downstairs in the kitchen.
My instinct told me to go to Lisa's room, and I did. It was as dirty was mine. Her things were also everywhere. The window was smashed. Drops of brown stuff were splattered on the floor. A piece of paper fluttered toward me. On it was three words:
Help. Still alive.
I recognized Lisa's handwriting immediately. Then I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. Someone had come in when I was on the bus or at school. They had taken Lisa hostage –and hopefully hadn't killed her according to the note- and when I had come home, came back and damaged my room.
I rushed downstairs and picked up the phone. I dialed Mike's number. He answered.
"Who is this?"
"Mike. I got a problem."
"Don't call!" he suddenly hissed. "Come to my house." The line dropped.
I slowly sank to my knees. Then I picked up my backpack and ran out the door. Who would have done this? And why? Why was Lisa missing? Were they after me?
I sprinted the rest of the way to Mike's house. He opened the door and yanked me in.
"Are you all right?"
"Yeah. Yeah," I panted. "But they…they got Lisa…my room…her room…note…something after me…"
"Whoa. Slow down. Tell me about everything."
I told him from the beginning what had happened. His eyes widened.
"Oh, Styx!" he muttered. "I didn't think it would be so soon!"
"We gotta go now. We have no choice," he said.
"To what? The camp?"
He didn't seem to be listening.
"Wait, where are your parents?"
"Uh…I don't exactly have parents?"
"You what?"
"Anyway, let's go."
He got a set of keys from his jean pocket.
"The pickup's in the driveway," he told me, opening the door. "I'll get something first."
Sure enough, there was an old blue pickup that I was sure hadn't been there a few seconds ago. A few minutes later, Mike came out and looked around like he was trying to spy on something and act causal at the same time. He was definitely no James Bond.
Mike climbed in and started the ignition key. He closed the door and backed out of the driveway.
"Where are we going anyway?" I suddenly asked.
"New York."
"New York!" I fell back into my seat. "Why the heck in New York? I mean, we're in Delaware if you haven't noticed."
"It's not that far."
I sighed and leaned back into my seat. There was a crumpled card in my hand. It was the one Mike gave me on the bus. I unfolded the creases and spread it out on my knee. It read:
Mike Walker
Keeper
Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141
Long Island, New York 11954
1 (800)-009-0009
Half-Blood Hill? In New York? Keeper? What was that all about?
I opened my mouth to ask Mike but he seemed too intent on driving. The sky outside the window was starting to get a little dark and I soon fell asleep.
