Chapter One
The boy raced along the dank alley. He raised several eyebrows as he passed by, but for the most part the alley's occupants were content to let him pass. Whatever trouble he was in, he could face it himself. His footsteps had only just faded away into the distance when a squad of police appeared, tearing after the boy.
He stumbled on a loose paving stone but righted himself and continued running, ignoring his protesting ankle. The pain was excruciating, but it would be nothing compared to what he could expect if he was caught. He rounded a corner at, straight towards a waiting officer. He took a quick gamble, twisted to the side and hurled himself forwards.
Hope she's as light as she looks, he thought.
The unexpected move took her by surprise and the pair landed in a tangled mess of limbs. She uttered a feral snarl and for a brief moment her incisors elongated into a pair of razor sharp fangs. He had no time for surprise and from his place on the floor, kicked out with both feet, catching her square on the abdomen. She flew backwards, striking a wall with a metallic clang. Unconscious, she slid down, leaving a sizable indent behind her.
He got up and frowned at her prone form. Bending down for a closer look he noticed her eyes were blurred, cloudy. His hand reached to open her eye and at his touch, her uniform began to fade, revealing a pair of mismatched legs, pale skin and a sharp pair of protruding fangs. His hand disappeared into his backpack and then reappeared, clutching a bronze dagger. It hovered in mid air, shining menacingly in the alley's dim light before it flashed downwards. He watched impassively as she dissolved, leaving behind a pile of dust and filling the air with the acrid smell of sulfur. A sudden wail made him turn his head. Another Empousa was in the alley, staring at the spot recently occupied by her sister.
He grabbed his pack and hurried off in the other direction, only to find another Empousa waiting for him. Unlike the first, her legs were planted firmly on the ground, ready. Not overly enthusiastic about the prospect of another collision he put on a burst of speed and leaped sideways. His feet touched wall and then pushed off, the momentum yielding him enough height to grab an overhanging clothes line. He swung like a wet rag, once, twice, before he launched himself at the gaping monster.
His feet connected with her head with a satisfying thunk and she crumpled to the ground. Straightening from his crouch he began to run, only to be halted by the tell-tale clang of bronze feet, closing in from both directions. In search of his dagger he dug through his pack, brushing against a warm bundle as he did so.
Maybe I should have remained hidden, he thought. It was certainly beginning to look like it. He had exposed himself and attracted the attention of several monsters too many while at it. The rewards had been meager at best. Two, three days worth of food? Hardly worthwhile.
He dug deeper and felt the keen edge of the dagger's blade. He gripped the dagger's hilt and pulled it out of the pack, tucking it into his boot. He could worry about supplies later. What he needed now was to go incognito. Naturally, doing that requires me doubling back past a pack of bloodthirsty Empusai. I love my life.
Before they caught sight of him and closed their trap, he clambered onto an overhanging fire-escape and concealed himself as groups of Empusai arrived below. They worked quickly, searching every shadow in the alley for him without result. For all of their thoroughness none of them thought to look upwards. He made a silent resolution to one day thank whichever Olympian oversaw fugitives, perhaps with something grilled.
Once they had finished scouring the alley and moved on, he dropped down from the fire escape, landing softly on the uneven paving. His ankle flared up in protest but for the moment adrenaline reined in the pain. Backtracking through the maze of alleys was a befuddling experience on the best of days, yet he moved with purpose, following the mental map he had drawn up over the last few months.
Occasionally a lone Empousa wandered too close for comfort and he silently dispatched it with his dagger. For once it seemed his dysfunctional ancestry seemed to be proving itself useful.
The last alley opened out into a wide street. Beyond that a wire fence was all that stood between him and safety. Once across the street he pressed as close to the fence as he dared and made his way to his entrance. The gap in the fence was small but just about accommodated his thin frame. Safely inside the fence he took a step forwards and then froze as he spotted two Empousai blocking the doorway to the tower. He cursed and backed away, out of their sight.
How did they find it?
He skirted the edge of the fence and arrived at the back door unnoticed, only to find more Empusai standing guard. For a few seconds he considered taking them by surprise but he quelled the notion almost as soon as it emerged. No, he would have to find another way. All the other entrances garnered similar results and he slumped against an unguarded section of the towers wall, defeated. He glanced, glumly upwards.
The idea had formed a while ago, but now, with all other alternatives gone it looked like the only way. He stood and ran his hand over the wall looking for a handhold. The aged mortar had crumbled away in places and he soon found a hole large enough to accommodate his hand.
He took a tentative heave and lifted himself skywards. For some reason the pleasant sensation of weightlessness only increased the further he ascended the wall. He looked back down and the otherwise gut wrenching altitude failed to evoke any reaction from his stomach. Energized, he settled into an easy rhythm, feeling for a handhold, establishing a firm grip and then hauling himself upwards.
Despite the thrill of the climb the loose gravel on the roof was a welcome sight. He dropped onto it, his limbs aching from the climb. Reluctantly he peeled himself from the gravel and approached an outbuilding, whose door led to the musty landing of a stairwell. Mold covered much of the walls and the slightest vibration sent dust flying into the air. He trod carefully on the stairs, making sure to avoid the rotten planks that would send him on an express ride to the ground floor.
Several tedious flights of stairs later he yanked open a door and entered an equally dark hallway. As always he turned left, walked ten paces and then felt for a door handle. It was there, sealed with a solid padlock. He slipped out a key and jammed it in. After a few hurried twists the lock flew open. Once inside he shut the door and surveyed the place with distaste. Home sweet home, he thought sarcastically. To him, a ramshackle eyesore seemed closer to the mark.
He'd cleaned up as best he could over the past months. The walls were not crusted with mold and there was considerably less dust swimming about in the air. He made his way towards the solitary cupboard and yanked the door open. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found his sword and supplies, as he had left them. What in the- The faint sound of creaking floorboards alerted him to someone's presence. Time to go.
He strapped the sword over his shoulder and quickly stuffed the rest of his supplies into the backpack. As the creaking got nearer it became apparent that more than one someones were approaching rather too quickly for his liking. Wrestling a the last of his supplies into the pack he slung it over his shoulder and reentered the hallway.
It appeared empty yet the audible sound of creaking floorboards persisted, emanating from his right. Throwing caution to the wind he veered left ignoring his now, extremely audible footsteps. He had not gone five paces when a faint glimmer began to appear round the corner, getting brighter as it approached.
The light cast the well defined shadow of flickering manes of hair, fangs and claws onto the wall. Before they came around the bend, he backtracked and ducked into the stairwell. He took the stable steps two at a time, heading for the roof. The air buffeting the roof felt relaxing but his reverie was brought to an abrupt end by the sharp crunch of gravel. Surprisingly quick, for creatures with bronze legs. He turned around and counted their feet as they poured from the stairwell, carefully averting his eyes from their hypnotic gaze. Ten, eleven, twelve. I'm in trouble.
They kept their distance and with the exception of one of the younger looking Empusai they did not seem particularly interested in attacking him. After a tense silence the tallest of the Empusai stepped forward, the others hastily parting before her.
She spoke, her voice inhumanly sweet,"Give up half-blood, look into my eyes and we will bring you to our mistress unharmed". Still averting his eyes he drew his sword in reply. The Empousai shuffled nervously at the sight of the celestial bronze but she hushed them with a sharp glare.
"Now, now put that down," she spoke again, her voice if even possible, several octaves higher.
Maybe... I should put down the sword?
Her sweet tone jarred his focus and an over-eager Empusai lunged for his neck. Jerked back into reality, he ducked under her wild swipe and sliced clean through her torso. She let off an ear-piercing wail before bursting into a shower of golden dust.
"Disgusting," Aquilus complained, brushing at the dust covering his face. The tall one screeched, her honeyed tones gone. Her eyes grew a deeper shade crimson as she watched, helplessly as the last specks of golden dust vanished. Sensing her anger he took a cautionary step back.
Several other Empusai rushed forward but she halted them with a wave of her hand. "This whelp is mine," she said. Then, as if her eyes weren't intimidating enough, her hair exploded into an inferno, its light illuminating the dark roof.
She aimed a punch at him which he casually sidestepped. He frowned as she failed to lurch forward. Instead she cut her lunge short and swiped sideways, raking his face with her claws. He managed to suppress a scream and quickly backed away, blood streaming from his face.
"What do you want with me?" he asked, stalling for time.
Clearly enjoying his plight she answered,"Kronos was scattered around the globe months ago. Most if not all of the major Titans are imprisoned. We serve a new master. A master who has new plans for you."
"I'm flattered by the offer but tell your master I refused. I was a monsters pawn once. It won't happen a second time." The cuts no longer bleeding, Aquilus rose and raised his sword. Surprised by his recovery she gave a frustrated snarl and surged forward. He delayed his strike until the last-minute before whipping his blade downwards. Astonishingly she twisted to the side, skimming past the blade's edge. Aquilus lurched forward, off-balance. Her arm came back around and the force of the blow sent him tumbling to the ground. She closed in and swung downwards only for her claws to be met hat halfway by his sword.
She pressed harder, whispering as she did so, "What happened Aquilus? I remember you were much sharper with your sword."
If he was surprised by the mention of his name he didn't show it. Instead he brought his knee up and reached for the dagger with his free hand. She pressed his blade further, a triumphant expression on her face. Suddenly, it was morphed into one of disbelief as the dagger impaled her stomach. She too burst into dust. He stood, unsteadily while the other Empusai milled around, momentarily unsure of what to do.
Before anything else could be done the breeze began to flare up. It ignored Aquilus but drove into the assembled Empusai and knocked them over as if they weighed little more than paper clips. They picked themselves up, torn between capturing him and saving their own skins. Before they could decide on a course of action the wind blew harder, knocking them to the ground. Then as if fed up of playing the wind picked them up one last time before throwing them over the edge of the roof. Aquilus remained untouched.
His immediate problems over, Aquilus scanned the roof, a nagging sensation at the back of his skull returning with a vengeance, beating against his skull and keeping his pulse racing despite the lack of any visible threat. Nothing, yet I could have sworn I-.
"You're not that good at this game are you?" the amused voice was female and painfully familiar. He looked around again. Still nothing. The voice rang out again, clearly suppressing laughter, "Perhaps try looking above you."
Aquilus complied with the odd request and groaned at who he saw. A young woman stood atop an outbuilding gazing coolly back at him. It was clear that she wasn't human. Matching most basketball players in height and dressing in an old-fashioned tunic and sandals was unusual. The quiver-full of arrows slung over her back along with the spear nestled in her right hand were downright bizarre.
"Hello little brother," her severe features failed to soften as she spoke.
"Hello, Aura. Finally decided to visit?" Aquilus replied.
Uncharacteristically she ignored the jibe, instead, furtively scanning the sky. "Do you know anywhere we can talk that is less open?" she asked.
"Excuse me?"
"Has it ever occurred to you that this war has distracted the gods not blinded them," she snapped.
Aquilus frowned, short-tempered with a sharp tongue to match; just as I remembered her.
"Follow me."
The pair left the roof and descended the now empty stairwell. He ushered her inside the apartment and pointed her to the place's only armchair. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and watched her carefully. He smiled at the distaste written all over her face. She looked at him, shaking her head. "You look a mess," she observed, pointing at the overgrown hair lining his shoulders and the ragged clothes hanging off his thin frame.
He shrugged. His physical appearance had been the least of his concerns for the past few months. Exasperated at his lack of concern, Aura clicked her fingers and his outline glowed a brilliant gold. When the glow faded his clothes had been repaired and his hair evenly brushed the nape of his neck.
"Thank you. Now, why have you suddenly decided to leave exile? More importantly, what does it have to do with me?"
She did not rely but pointed at him, marveling at how quickly he could alternate between gratitude and suspicion.
"I will have you know that I quite like the windy city. As for what I want with you? I'm afraid you already know why I am here."
"Pardon?" He feigned confusion and prayed her memory had taken a dive since their last conversation. How long ago had that been anyway? Two, three years?
"Enough Aquilus," Aura raised a tired hand, " I have neither the time nor the will for any verbal sparring. Are you coming back home or not?"
Obviously not.
"You're not giving me much choice. If I go back to father he'll kill me."
She grinned, whether at his statement or the thought of father running him through, he couldn't tell. He guessed it was the latter.
"I know father does not look kindly upon people who defy him but he will not kill you. After all, father never could lay a finger on his precious son," she said this with such venom that Aquilus took an instinctive step back.
"Jealous?" It was a poorly chosen question, he knew. But he had to put up some sort of a fight. She said nothing and simply stared incredulously at him. Aloof to her worsening mood he continued, "And whose fault is that? Who defied her father, challenged the goddess of the hunt and suffered the consequences?"
Despite the distinct lack of a fan an insistent breeze built up inside the room sending dust flying in all directions. Aura herself had wraiths of smoke curling off her glowing frame. Aquilus, finally realizing this, spoke quickly to placate her.
"Aura I'm sorry, but I said I'm not going back. If I do I'll have to live out the rest of my life as an ordinary mortal," he paused, shuddering at the prospect, "I spent twelve years living that life and I have no desire to live it again."
"Don't be so dramatic. I'll have you know some mortals can be quite pleasant," Aura countered her temper seemingly under control.
"Coming from the woman who once had a fling with Dionysus I dread your definition of pleasant."
Aura's eyes flashed with suppressed emotion. Anger, or was it sorrow? Aquilus immediately regretted his words.
"There is another option. A safe haven for half-bloods," She explained, her voice remaining level.
"That sounds bearable. Where?" he asked, hoping she was not thinking of the camp for Half-bloods. She couldn't right?
"Camp Half-blood."
Aquilus choked.
Has she finally lost her mind?
"I am never setting foot in that camp," he said in a low voice, "never."
Aura scowled and gave him an exasperated look. "Why not? Camp will protect you from the servants of Gae-"
"Aura look at me! Do you really think they will accept the son of an exile?"
"I am not here to argue with you. You may not have the blood of an Olympian but you are still a Half-blood. Think of it, Camp could be your new start."
A new start, he mused. The prospect was tempting. He turned to face the wall, not wanting her to see the doubt on his face. Aura shrugged and stood. Another less experienced person would have tried to reason with him. She knew better.
Instead she padded towards the rooms window, tossing something onto a nearby table as she went. Aquilus shuffled uncomfortably before turning around to face her.
"Aura."
She stopped in her tracks, turned around and fixed him with an emotionless stare.
"It was nice to see you." His tone was warm and her severe expression softened ever so slightly. Without a word she pushed the windows open.
"You do know the doors that way?"
"Yes I do, what of it?" Aura asked, her tone tone careless. She dissolved, a light breeze flowing out of the window.
Aquilus watched the spot she had recently occupied with regret. As the last of her form dissolved he approached the table and picked up the leather pouch she had left behind. Upending it a handful of golden drachma, a roll of mortal cash and a note rolled into his hand. The note read:
Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141
Long Island, New York 11954
Your Welcome
He smiled and tucked the pouch into his newly repaired jacket. With the excitement over the pang of his wounds had resurfaced with a vengeance. Out of curiosity he drew his sword and viewed his reflection.
The cuts on his face had almost finished closing up and the pain in his ankle had subsided to a slight throbbing. Aquilus wiped away the worst of the blood but left the cuts alone. His dark hair hid them and the scars would fade in a few weeks anyway.
Against his will his his battered body began to sway, begging for sleep. The last thing Aquilus remembered was contemplating his course of action as his feet gave way beneath him. I'll decide in the morning, he told himself as he collapsed into the chair.
And it begins! The next chapter should be up soon. Feel free to leave a review.