Hello lovely readers! So, Chapter 2. Urgh... very long chapter. Bear with me, please. Thank you to the two quest reviews so far. And the follows/favorites really made my day! R&R I don't own PJO or any of the song(lyrics).
Chapter Two
Lia's P.O.V.
The streets of New York are fun. I personally like them, even though my parents seldom let me go out into the city. I did not look conspicuous amongst the eccentric minor-models, businesspeople, hipsters, tourists, and citizens. At a gift shop, I swap my ratty drawstring for a black Jansport with the protective leather padding underneath. I couldn't stay in the city for long, because I'll probably end up sleeping in an alleyway at night and that would be the worst place to be. So I walk around and pretend to be a tourist, sightseeing and all that jazz. It's fun, and I even almost forget who I am for a second.
As I gaze off at the people walking up and down the streets in such frenzy, a hand gripped my shoulder. I froze my swinging legs and was petrified to the bench. I look up and see a man with a baseball cap, pulled low, and in running attire.
"Found you, illegitimate little shit," he snarled.
I could tell right away before the words even came out of his mouth that he was not good news. I also knew that I was not illegitimate. Sometimes I wish I was an adopted orphan; it disgusted me to think that I shared the blood of two people who'd made my life hell. Springing up from the bench, I threw the man's arm off my shoulder and dashed across the street. It was like stepping on hot potatoes, every step dangerous and life threatening. Cars honked simultaneously, and several taxis bumped against my legs. I almost tripped a couple of times, dashing awkwardly through the mass of cars in some strange prance.
The man was hot on my trail, but his bulky size is a disadvantage because he can't squeeze through the cars as easily. I make it to the other side of the street, and dash through the seas of people. I have no idea where I am going. Then, I see a bridge. There are a lot of bridges in New York, and a couple rivers, but I have no idea which this one is. Maybe the Henry Hudson or something, we learn a lot about him in school. An ounce of hesitancy flickers in my brain, but I jump in before my thoughts can make me reconsider.
The river is dirty - almost everything in New York City is, except for the fancy hotels and restaurants. The man is peering over the railing, and scanning the water for me. He saw me jump. He takes out something that looks like a weapon. Even with my dark hair billowing in front of my face, I can tell it's not a gun - it's quite large actually.
Fear strikes through my heart with the same intensity of five hundred pounds of iron. The thought of his eyes settling on my body bobbing slowly down the river...he'd pinpoint me, and pluck my life out of existence, in a second. And then I'd be a dead body floating down the river. My heart raced and it took all my willpower not to start sobbing and emitting bubbles.
I closed my eyes, and took a moderate breath as I disappeared below the surface of the water. There are lighter shapes moving in front of my eyelids, like bright currents. I try to calm my racing heart. I don't know how long it's been, but the water is still moving me. I feel like I'm breathing, but that's not right. My breath was gone long ago - my cheeks are no longer puffed up. My mouth and nose are moving, inhaling and exhaling. Is this drowning? It must be. I still don't panic, and my mind seems to be dislocated from my body and senses. I must be dying. Small voices assure me that I am not, and I continue in the strange sleep as the water carries me on down the river.
The bright currents dance in my brain, and it reminds me of what I would do in the pool when I was young. On sunny days, I'd flip onto my back and push myself down to the bottom of the pool with my arms. Staring up at the water, it seemed as if the sunlight was running across the surface with fairy footsteps. It had felt so safe under the water.
Slowly and hazily, I make my way to the surface. I break out into the air, inhaling on a small breeze. I don't recognize where I am. It's a forest, and I hear no sound of a bustling city. The sky is different from the city - much more natural and less polluted. I'm no longer in a dirty New York City river, but a small trickling stream. The water has gotten lower, and I grab onto a rock. I sit up, and almost choke on the air while trying to take small breaths. All of my consciousness trickles back into my brain like an hourglass of sand. More alert, less relaxed. Then, I feel a sharp pain in my lower back. A hot rush of blood rushes through my veins, and then coldness seeps everywhere in the form of frigid pinpricks. I wince at the pain, and reach for the area where it seems to resonate from. Wet, sticky blood oozes from the wound - and I think there is a small dart-like thing protruding, or some kind of spiky bullet.
I gasp, and try not to panic. It might make me bleed more. I wash my hands quickly in the river and stagger to my feet. A figure approaches me from behind a mass of trees - the man that I now identified as my stalker and attacker.
I struggle for words, battling to hold the fear at bay. If I let the paranoia consume my now, all is lost. He leers at me, and his clothes rip off slowly. His body is expanding and changing, shape and color. I stumble out of the stream and onto the banks, horrified. The transformation is still going, and I see a grotesque demeanor become unveiled. He is very big, almost twelve feet now. Still, the man - no, thing - grows. His skin settles on a sandpaper and greenish hue and his eyes slant and fade to crimson. Scales form, and a tail. I run, wishing to be under the safe vicinity of the water's surface once again. I can't use the stream - it's too shallow.
"Help. Help. Helpp." I sound like a small dying dog yipping.
My voice is nearly inaudible and raspy - it sounds like when I try to scream in a nightmare and I can't. I try harder, and it's so hard. The fear is consuming me, I want to drop to the ground and go ballistic. I push harder, trying to find my voice.
"Help. Help. Help me. Me..."
The frustration is overwhelming, but not as much as the terror. My blood is churning and a steady hand is squeezing my heart - I can barely breathe. Then, out of the blue something perks up in my desperate call for aid. It sounds so twisted when it comes out, changing from a low, hoarse gasp to a screechy wail, and then to a flat yelp. I try again, and again. No one is going to hear; maybe no one is even around.
The monster's steps grow louder and louder behind me. The ground is shaking like a 4.0 earthquake. I think I hear voices, and I turn toward them. I let off as many strange screams as I can, and try to run. But I can't run - my movements are jerky and slow, as if I'm a string puppet. My biggest fear glides alongside me, laughing. I've always been afraid of dying since I was little. With barely any friends, I was a morbid thinker. I think of death a lot, and it's unhealthy. I live in fear, and in disappointment that I'm not really "living" at all. I'm not afraid of dying really, just what I have to deal with after. So I am afraid of dying, really. I don't know what happens after. And now, I'm going to find out.
Do you believe you're missin' out
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
But with nobody in your bed
The night's hard to get through
And I will die all alone
And when I arrive I won't know anyone
Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
'cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend.
Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after
Do I get the gold chariot?
Do I float through the ceiling?
Do I divide and fall apart?
'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
And the ship went down in sight of land
- Jesus Christ by Brand New
Nico's P.O.V.
We tread through the forest quietly, soft music coming out from Bridger's backpack. I trail behind the group, leaving at least a foot in the shadow of a tree or bush while the others walk comfortably in sunshine. If it bothers them, they don't show it. It took a while to find friends that didn't mind a death demigod.
The four of us make small talk about camp and petty summer quests as we head toward the small pond we'd found a couple weeks back. It was the size of a regular swimming pool, but insanely deep and crystal clear. Enclosed by some willows and pines, it was our little secret. Much better than the crowded lake back at the camp, where there were bound to be tons of people. I'm not antisocial - I just...
"You know, I smell something in the air." Ace muttered, his relaxed posture stiffening into warlike-mode.
The way his jaw twitched and eyes darted around calmly made him radiate Ares demigod-ness. Spenser backed off a bit from Ace, raising his eyebrows.
"Don't tell me you're getting one of those spontaneous paranoia-destruction whims again, Ace. We came to swim and spar a little, not to gang up on you while you're in some wild beast mode." the Hermes demigod said, flashing a white grin.
Everyone muttered their discontent, and I chuckled a bit to myself. As if being a son of Ares doesn't put enough fight into Ace's blood, he has strange whims where he gets paranoid and thirsts for a good fight. Sometimes, he just gets worked up and beats the other guy who offended him real bad. However, most of the time it's when he's around us and suddenly gets it into his head that we're all clones or monsters in disguises. He overanalyzes us, and if we seem to be acting a bit strange, he turns Spartan. While we're all decent fighters and it's usually at least three to one, Ace is a son of Ares and the possession makes him even more malicious.
"No, no not that," Ace snaps, half-listening as his hearing extends out further into the woods.
Everyone sees the seriousness in the situation, as I mutter under my breath.
"What a classic hunter. Always vigilant."
Spenser and Bridger laugh. Ace shushes us. Ace forces his way in front of the group, pushing Bridger aside hastily.
"Guys, hear that?" Ace murmurs, his voice concerned, but more excited.
"Is it something serious?" Bridger asks.
"No, we can handle it," Ace says.
"We're not all Ares kids with fatally-supersized egos here, Ace," Spenser says.
Ace shoots us all looks, examining our faces. For fear, probably.
"You guys want out, you can run your little asses back to camp. I can handle this on my own."
We shake our heads, and Bridger lets out a low whistle.
"Got a bad feeling 'bout this." I say.
"Then why you smiling?" Ace demanded wondrously.
"'Cause something's going to die."
"Shit, Ace. Maybe you're biting off a bit too much this time." Spenser said.
"The only thing dying is the enemy. That is, after we bring it back to camp and torture it with interrogations." Ace said flatly.
"An intruder?" Bridger asks.
"I smell 'im. I smell blood, really close. Bet Nico can smell it, too." Ace replies, not looking back at me.
And he was right. I could smell blood - but I didn't want to confirm what I thought it was.
"What is it?" Spenser asks sharply.
"I-I don't-"
"C'mon, Nico. Cut the modest stuff, we know you're like a shark and can smell blood from miles away. Is it one of those cursed snakes again?" Bridger asks.
"It's not a monster. It's a demigod, with about thirty minutes to live."
Bridger whistles. He whistles too much, but that's to be expected from a musically inclined Apollo kid. Ace tells him to cut it out, or else the monster will track us down and eat us before we can save the poor kid.
We find drop our backpacks off by the base of a big tree, keeping weapons only - except for Spenser who, with a father that excels in medicine, sticks a mini First-Aid kit into his pocket. The thing is the size of a hand, but it opens up to reveal at least two hundred cures for basic monster infections. I always have my ambrosia and nectar on me, a bad habit from when I was younger. At least I don't wear the same leather jacket anymore. I can also wear other colors than black now, and I've discarded the chain belt and skull ring. I don't wear any jewelry at all now. My hair looks much better, too. I have come a long way.
"HELP! Help me!" a voice calls out, and it turns my blood cold.
SOsososso what do you think? What kind of monster does the stalker seem to be? Hahaha it's pretty confusing rn. The next chapter might be a bit later...So, Ace, Bridger, and Spenser are Nico's friends. Nico is 15, Lia's 15...and Nico's three buddies are 15 too. Ok. It's a bit messy so Ace is a son of Ares, Bridger-Apollo, and Spenser-Hermes. Hmmmm but what about Lia :0 mwhaahah. thank you so much for reading. please review guys!