Hi again :) I'm back and now we've got the ball rolling at least. You've probably noticed, but I wanted to let you know that Shem holds a very striking resemblance to Sherlock Holmes, and he has the same skills. There will be some references, so please do not hold me to plagiarism, as those were intentional. I really wish I could insert images here and change the fonts of each section, but I guess FanFiction doesn't allow me to do that.
Just try to imagine an upside down triangle, with a horizontal line crossing the upper half. Like an eject sign, but upside down :D Don't worry you'll see later.
I'll be posting another soon, so thank you for reading :)
Thank you to VirtualViola03 for reviewing! You made my day :)
Good luck. To Shem I mean.
-Olo Eopia03
- Chapter Two – The First Mistake
Disillusionment had the temporary effect of amusing even the most brilliant people, but in the end, the disappointment resulting from the discovery of the hidden truth will not always be as good as the intended trick had believed to be. But is it the same for all plot twisting schemes? Or can it just be as real as what is really intended?
Before Shem and Petra had arrived at the clearing, the crowd had already started to disperse. Many of the demigods were muttering to themselves and whispering to each other, with looks of fear, dread, worry, caution, and even contempt plastered onto their faces.
What, is it that bad already? Shem thought, spying out Janelle and another demigod bringing someone toward the infirmary. They were carrying a girl.
Shem began to walk in that direction. It must've been so urgent that Janelle wanted to rush the girl to a quieter area.
"Holmes!" A voice interrupted. Shem stopped in his tracks and turned around, feeling slightly annoyed. A tall boy was walking toward him.
Of all the people destined to meet me in the world, Shem thought. One of them had to be Ken Fletcher.
Shem shouldn't have come toward this part of the crowd. He looked to his left, and saw Petra was already far away from him, talking to the other demigods. He should've followed her instead.
"What?" Shem said impatiently. Ken grinned back at him. His sandy blonde hair, which had once been spiky, had straightened out and now almost covered his eyes. "Is there really any point to which you need to draw my attention?"
Ken Fletcher was tall for his age, since he was just fourteen years old, but luckily for Shem, he was taller than Ken by a couple of inches.
Everyone knew that if you looked at Ken's face just once, you wouldn't be able to take him seriously ever again. Shem remembered Chiron saying that Ken was almost just as equivalent to both of the Stoll brothers combined, which wasn't very good news for the whole Camp. The silly antics and wild pranks made him a true child of Hermes. Ken's medium length hair had a thin and layered effect to it. Despite the hair covering most of his forehead, Shem could still see the upturned eyebrows. His bright blue eyes gleamed mischievously back, and his elfish ears stuck out from his hair.
One look and a brief analysis of Ken had already begun in Shem's eyes.
"Where was I today?" Ken asked excitedly.
"Sword arena," Shem said dismissively. Ken's expression, which had been briefly replaced with an infuriated glare, looked back at him again with a sly expression. "Obviously."
"How?" Ken said enthusiastically. Shem glared at him. "I wiped all my sweat and everything. Tell me! How did you do that? That was excellent!"
"Elementary."
"Tell me how you do it," Ken said adamantly.
How much more can you annoy me, Fletcher? Shem shook his head.
"Your hair, your shirt," Shem said curtly. "Make an effort to try harder too, Kenneth. You have a slight odor on you, too."
Ken's face turned blank.
"Awe, come on-"
"You weren't even training in the arena today, were you?" Shem went on. "Stop eating those blueberry muffins there, Ken, or you'll incite a harpy problem or something just as morbid. And Raymond's quite annoyed at you for stealing his spear."
Shem moved closer to the clearing just to get away from the boy. Normally, if two people had a conversation similar to what they'd had, those people would become long term enemies. But Shem could feel Ken still grinning back at him. That Hermes kid was still fun to be around with.
Shem adjusted the collar of his dark trench coat. The two demigods that had carried the girl to the Big House had already disappeared.
"Shem," Shem turned around to see Chiron. Chiron was a centaur and the Director of Camp Half-Blood. Today, the middle-aged man was without an enchanted wheelchair, and his lower half revealed the posture of a majestic white stallion. The slight crinkles around the edges of his intense brown eyes revealed years of worry and laughter, but most importantly, many lifetimes of experience. The centaur's face also revealed prominent and sharp features, and a scruffy brown beard covered less than half of his face.
Look of worry is not only resulted from the incident today. Can also possibly result from the quest Allen and Elli have embarked on?
Noting brief absence yesterday after dinner. Recent trip to Olympus? Topic of discussion? Kronos. Obviously.
Right handed: The way the collar is adjusted - folds are more prominent on the right side.
Taller than any man.
No wheelchair: Surprised by the sudden turn of events today.
Bow and arrows slung on the back: Taught an earlier class of archery in the morning.
Fragments of annoyed expression still lingering on his face suggests an encounter with a slight problem. An unwanted meeting with the Party Ponies, perhaps? Only a wild guess, but choices such as nymph problems, Mr. D., Kenneth Fletcher, messy rooms, kidnapping, and all mishaps can be eliminated easily.
Probability of answers being accurate: ninety-eight percent. Incorrect: two percent. Mixture: zero percent.
Chiron had become a man whom Shem had respected very much, knowing that if anyone needed to provide someone with wisdom, it would be Chiron.
"I'll go to the Big House," Shem said. Chiron nodded, but a strange look never left his face.
"Be careful," Chiron said. "I feel that there's something peculiar about her, Shem."
Shem nodded.
"Of course, Chiron," Shem said. "Let me run over the principal steps. You will know that we will approach her with an absolutely blank mind, which is always an advantage. No theories. We are simply there to observe and to draw inferences from our observations."
"Then go," Chiron chuckled, and the wrinkles from his face had vanished for a slight moment. "Mr. Holmes."
Shem smiled. He wished Chiron would always stay free from worry.
[xxx]
"Let her wake up on her own, Shem," Janelle insisted as she stood outside the door. A dim yellow light was flickering from inside the room. Shem hadn't been allowed to go into the room until night time because Janelle wouldn't let him. "She's exhausted, but she'll wake up soon."
"You know I won't disturb her," Shem said. Janelle nodded slightly, and then left him.
Shem peered through the door and entered into the room. No one else was inside but a girl lying soundly on the only bed in the private infirmary room. Janelle had been quick in treating her wounds well.
The girl's face was captivating. Her curly dirty blonde hair fell past her shoulders. Her pearly skin seemed to glow in the light, highlighting her smooth features. The girl's elfish ears stuck out slightly from her hair. She was a little pale, though, and her face was on the brink of contorting with worry.
She has a pretty face, Shem thought.
Shem stared at her . . . But . . . What?
?
Shem looked down at her clothes and the blanket that covered half her body. He couldn't tell where her clothes came from. Was it handmade? For the first time, he wasn't even sure.
?
Right handed? Left handed? Age?
?
What's happening? Shem thought. I don't know anything about her.
Shem glanced again at her face.
?
Suddenly, the girl let out a small whimper. Shem stood up, unable to figure out why he couldn't deduce anything. Shem paced the room silently, taking off his brown cap.
Deduction, Shem thought, with a nervous feeling creeping up his chest. Is an exact science. Deduction is undoubtedly always accurate . . .
Shem looked around her neck and saw a small medallion hanging from a thin black string.
The medallion? Shem thought. Oh my gods. It's the medallion.
Slowly reaching toward it, his fingers gradually wrapped around the silver pendant. Shem ran his fingers through the small engraving on the surface. It was a peculiar shape . . .
I've seen that shape before, Shem thought. It was a simple triangle that had been turned upside down, with a thin horizontal line running through the upper half of the symbol. It's that symbol.
That symbol.
It's from Him. Shem thought. But how? It's not possible for it to be a coincidence. Did she know? Where did she come from?!
Just as Shem let go of the pendant, the girl's eyes slowly fluttered open. Her eyes were like sparkling bright blue jewels staring up into the ceiling. Shem turned around immediately, knowing that the girl did not catch him staring at the pendant, but he could feel the atmosphere fill with tension as the girl reached up quickly to grasp the pendant.
"W-where am I?" The girl said. Shem turned around and saw that she was trembling. She looked older than Petra, but something about her confused Shem. It was the fact that no matter how long he took to observe her movements, her actions, and her appearance, he still couldn't see anything about her. Shem masked his face, not giving away any shock.
"I strongly believe that the most appealing question at the moment that should be inquired," Shem said boredly as he sat down on a chair next to the bed. "Is why you are here?"
"Who are you?" The girl said, struggling to sit up. Shem caught a glimpse of bandages wrapped around her waist. They should be changed soon, because blood was already starting to show. Shem winced at the large wound. The girl collapsed back down onto the bed, gasping.
"Stop exerting yourself," Shem said quietly.
"Who are you?" The girl repeated. Her voice was tinged with fear. Shem wanted to glare at her. "Tell me who you are."
Shem turned his steely gray eyes toward hers, and he could feel her shoulders and muscles tensing up. Her breathing had quickened quite significantly, but only Shem could hear it.
"My name is Shem Baker," Shem said, his words filling up the whole room although the volume of his voice was quiet. The words were clear, though. "It is my business to know what others do not."
The girl stared at him for a moment, and Shem felt as though she was looking at him in disbelief. Her expression had change so quickly, and for a second Shem thought the girl might actually know him. He didn't know why his heart stopped when she looked at him.
"W-where am I?" The girl asked again.
"I believe you're not allowed to know," Shem said. Could she be a spy? But how did she get here? She was even wounded, so would that not make her even more of a spy, or a spy who used the method of being hurt to get into Camp? For once, Shem felt as blind as everyone else when he looked at this girl.
"You can't tell me?" The girl insisted.
Why can't I? Shem thought slowly. What harm will she ever do? The look on her face only looks just as confused as mine. If anyone would get hurt because of her, let it be me.
"Camp Half-Blood," Shem said. The girl sighed in relief. What was this girl feeling? "What happened to you?"
"My father told me to come here," the girl said. She'd just ignored Shem's question completely, but Shem decided to listen to her. "Hermes."
She already knows. She knows who she is then.
That was probably why she was so relieved. She wanted to get here because she knew it was safe for her.
"What attacked you?" Shem asked as he took off his jacket and hung it on the chair. At first the girl looked confused.
"Oh," She said, looking down at her waist. She seemed to hesitate. "Um . . . H-hellhound."
I can't tell if she's lying, Shem thought.
"What else do you know?" Shem asked.
"You're all demigods, right?" The girl asked. Shem nodded. "And the monsters-"
"Real," Shem said shortly. "All real."
The girl looked up at the ceiling.
"Why?" She asked. Shem looked at her. It's rare that people ask that kind of question. "Why are they all real?"
I don't know, Shem thought. No one does. But it's the unfortunate life that we live in.
"What else do you know?"
"I know about Camp Half-Blood, the people here, and that sometimes demigods go on quests," The girl said. "Who's your dad?"
"I'm the son of Athena," Shem said coldly. Was she going to question him this much? "My father's dead."
"Oh, so you're an orphan," The girl said brightly. Shem glared at her, but she didn't seem to notice. "You must've been alone for so long, since I heard it's rare for demigods to have any siblings. Do you have any other family relations?"
"No."
"Then did your father die from illness?"
"No," Shem said, gritting his teeth. This girl kept talking, and while she was trying to find out so much about him, he was getting nothing out of her.
"Why, how?" The girl asked quickly, her eyes growing big. "Was he attacked by a monster? Or did he just die? Did he abandon you? Or was he murdered?"
Shem stood up, and the wooden chair scraped abruptly against the floor. As he snatched his jacket up from the chair, the girl sat up abruptly, wincing from the pain at her side.
"I'm leaving," Shem said curtly, folding up his jacket on his right hand.
"Hold on, sorry - wait!" The girl cried out as she lurched forward and grabbed his left arm. Her reaction and speed was so unexpected that Shem staggered backward as the girl's fingers accidentally latched onto his T-shirt.
The incident came by quick and fast. Shem looked down as the collar of his shirt slid down, revealing the long, dark scar that lined from the bottom of collar bone down past the shirt, through the chest. It was a scar weathered by age and blackened by the element, its broad size and ridges standing almost pale against Shem's skin.
It would be the scar that would betray the truth of what a deep and abhorrent wound it had been, and the lack of care it was given for all those years. It kept the truth and secret from ten years ago.
The girl stared with her mouth slightly open, shocked at what she'd done. The silence in the room was filled with an unwanted sense of intensity.
"Let. Go." Shem said. His voice was as hard as steel. The girl, with her hands shaking slightly, released the shirt from her grasp. Shem took a few steps backward as he straightened up and adjusted his shirt. No one knew about that scar. No one but Petra.
"I-I'm sorry," The girl said. "S-sorry."
Shem turned away from her and left the room without another word.
[xxx]
Shem sat cross legged on the edge of the top bunk with the Daedalus laptop on his lap. It was already late into the night, but almost all of the Athena kids were still buzzing about, rummaging through papers at their work desks, sketching on stacks of tracing paper, or drafting new buildings on paper to be inserted into the 3-D modeling machine. Only a few children had nodded off to sleep at their desks or on the floor, and even fewer children actually slept on the beds.
The Daedalus laptop was quite an interesting model. As time passes by, the computer itself morphs into the latest and newest version of one of the best laptops used today. The Daedalus laptop looked like any high tech device in today's world, except for the Greek Delta sign glowing in the middle of its sleek silver cover.
With his fingers, Shem swiped quietly across the screen pass all the previous windows he'd been using, including an online chess game, until he came across an article he'd been reading yesterday. It had nothing to do with him or his life, but it still struck to him as something important somehow.
Mass Genocide Between Family Branches Erupt in Libya
Two years ago, on the evening of July 21, heavy fighting became the result of a political conflict between two family branches, leaving approximately two million people dead on the streets. It is important that we look back on this as one of the most tragic events during this time.
Two clans, known as the Toki Clan and the Rundu Tribe, were both infamously known for their unending rivalry, tracked since their early ancestry. While the Rundu Tribe was seen as the head clan, the Toki Clan, who turned out to be distant relations, came from a more minor and less populated side branch. The Rundu Tribe's superiority over the years was always constantly expressed proudly, discriminating the Toki.
Three years prior to the genocide, Europe had divided Libya into two regions: the Toki region and the Rundu region. Although less populated and less powerful, the Toki tribe were seen as the stronger half, with more skill and political sense to be able to govern a country. As a result, Europe handed the Toki branch family the power to rule both regions of Libya. This outraged the Rundu, and while the two clans continued to argue, more obstacles emerged as both clans actually struggled against the overall control and manipulation of Europe.
When Europe finally withdrew from Libya, the Rundu Clan immediately retook position, seizing power from the Toki region. Ever since, the Toki have been excluded from the government and important assembly meetings, until the ruler of Rundu, President Haimana, signed an Act that would allow the Toki Tribe back into the government. This Act allowed the Toki Tribe to once again take part in voting and meeting assemblies.
Rundu extremists became outraged at the news as a result. It had always been their own preference to be able to orchestrate and display their own power. Despite the Act allowing the Toki Tribe to participate in government, tensions between the parties still worsened.
Devastatingly, President Haimana was shockingly killed in a train accident shortly after the passage of the Act. Not only that, but the Toki have been known to hold a long time grudge against the Rundu ever since Europe released them. Using this as an excuse against the Toki - since it was possible that a native from the Toki region could've planned President Haimana's death - Rundu extremists formed a group known as the Akats, and a mass slaughter begins.
In 96 days, at least two-thirds of the population had been killed due to the disastrous feud between the Rundu and the branched government clan, the Toki.
Why didn't the whole world step in to assuage the fighting?
Every nation had the choice, but others, including the United States, sat there idly and watched the massacre take place. We all look back on this day as one of the most fatal flaws that could've been prevented right away. The world should've stepped in, but instead, more than half of Libya's population lies dead.
Shem closed the window.
The stupidity of the government, the act of childishness between the clans, and the tragedy of so many deaths, Shem thought. Mortals. They're always so nosy, but when something tragic takes place, they ignore it completely.
Shem sighed, and suddenly remembered the symbol hanging around the girl's neck. He scanned the room until he found an automaton owl flying around the room near the bookshelves. Ever since the first model Raymond Stone had created from the Hephaestus Cabin, the Athena Cabin had requested one to look after their mini library.
"Miu," Shem whispered. Although his voice was soft, the tiny silver owl turned toward his direction and fluttered across the room.
Miu was a tiny owl, and unlike the first model the Hephaestus cabin had built, it wasn't as able to carry heavy things. Moreover, it was given a powerful memory and the ability to be able to find any book, no matter how obscure the title was. Everyone thought his name was cute too since it was named after the Muses of poetry and literature. The owl hooted softly as it landed and perched on top of Shem's computer. It looked like any other adorable Scops owl, just that every individual feather had been carefully crafted with the elements from the Hephaestus Cabin. Today, no one in the mortal world could make something as lively and as graceful as this creature.
"Hoo, Hoo!" Miu cheeped happily, focusing its orb eyes expectantly on Shem's face. It fluttered furiously for a few seconds to keep its balance on the computer. Shem smiled.
"You know the book," Shem said. "Can you grab it?"
"Hoo!"
The owl launched itself valiantly from the top of the computer and fluttered toward the farthest bookshelf. Shem watched it as it came back clumsily with the burden of the book in its claws. It seemed to droop a little from the weight as it jauntily moved toward the bed. In about a minute, Miu plopped back down onto the bed next to Shem, and Shem took the book into his hands.
"Thanks, Miu," Shem said, ruffling Miu's feathers.
"Hoo, Hoo!"
Shem looked back down at the cover of the book as Miu fluttered triumphantly away.
Field Notes, It read. Property of Nicholas Baker.
Shem's father had always been an inventive man. That's why he and mother fell for each other. Nicholas Baker studied everything, from neuroscience to environmental science. But whatever he wrote in this book was different . . .
It was the book that Shem would find his dad scribbling furiously into late at night, everyday. His father had always been in his study even until the morning at times. Shem opened the book and leafed through the pages like he'd always done, because this had been the last and only thing left by his dad. But the pages were blank.
His father had always been a secretive man as well.
Shem tried almost every method he knew. He looked through every page, checked the binding of the book, used invisible ink, banged it against any hard surface, spied for double pages that could be hidden, and even allowed the Hephaestus cabin to inspect it, but the book was just a blank. He even used the Daedalus laptop to do a full scan of the book, but there was no successful result.
Shem didn't even know how the book had gotten to Camp with him. For all he knew, the book had always sat on his father's desk, and had never left it. But no one in the family dared to open it. Until just that one time . . .
Shem reached the last page of the book, and the last thing that had been scribbled there was the only thing visible throughout the whole book. It was in pencil, clumsily sketched at one corner. It was small, but distinct.
The upside down triangle with the horizontal line crossing through gleamed at Shem, just like the glowing symbol on that girl's necklace had done too. Shem stared at the symbol. How were the two of them connected? No one knew of the book. No one knew of what had gone on in the Baker's household. Could it be the most random coincidence that the downward triangle - which was the image of Aristotle's ancient symbol for foundation or earth - happened to be just printed on both objects?
Who was she?
Your journey has begun, Shem Baker, Petra had said. Morpheus' ominous message had stayed imprinted in Shem's mind. Go ahead. Kill him.
Shem thought hard for a long time, but he couldn't think of how the girl in the infirmary and the notebook would have a connection. There wasn't any evidence.
Shem looked around until his eyes lingered on the New York Yankees Cap hanging on the hook at the corner of the room. Why did Annabeth leave it there? She wasn't dead, and it was one of her most prized possessions. Why?
Shem pulled up an application on the computer called TextWrite. If Annabeth was going to come back, he might as well leave something. His spelling and writing was better than most demigods at this camp. Who knows, maybe one day if he kept browsing through this computer, he might stumble across something Annabeth had left behind too.
Month of June
Entry #1
Once you come upon this message - if you keep reading - it is possible that you could be engulfed into a complex and dark tale.
It is already strange enough that a message had come from Morpheus, a minor god, about the events of my fate. Whether it will turn out beneficial for me or disadvantageous to the point where my life could be in danger, it is unknown. Whether my life at this point could be in someone else's hands, or I am in charge of murdering the person whom I've sought after for so long, it is also unknown. The mystery of my journey could begin at any moment, and it might be just as peculiar and strange as your sudden disappearance, Annabeth.
Before I talk about myself, however, it is always helpful to inform you that Allen Stradwood and Elli Fugino have embarked on an important quest recently. It's probably as important as any quest you've ever gone on, and if not, more important. Where they are right now, no one knows. The details are to be kept confidential.
I speak to you only to leave a slight memoir of myself, and if someone were to find out my own fate, it might as well be you. We've crossed paths with each other only once, and you saw potential in me. But why I'm choosing to write this to you and not to someone closer, I sadly do not know. Unlike most things I've done, doing this just feels accurate enough for me to do.
I implore you to keep reading, because I know that I will keep writing to keep a log of the mysterious events that will take place soon.
Today had been a normal day until something out of the ordinary had shown itself through a dream. Petra Ashling, the daughter of Morpheus, had passed on a message to me . . .
Shem wrote about everything had happened to him that day, of the message Petra had told him, the injured girl who appeared on top of the hill, and the girl's background. He talked about everything, from the most plain facts to his most absurd conjectures. He even wrote of the incident when his scar had been revealed in the infirmary room. He talked about the girl the most though, how her face had struck him, and of how he wasn't able to make out anything despite how hard he tried.
By the time Shem had closed the laptop, everyone in the Athena cabin had fallen asleep. The night lamps were still glowing, producing a dim light in the room. Shem lied down on the bed, even though it wasn't his. No one in Cabin Six really cared.
What a peculiar girl, Shem thought as he stared at the ceiling. He thought of the dirty blonde hair that framed her elegant face, and the peaceful expression that had been there when she was asleep, and afterward two sparkling blue jewels had looked up at Shem as the girl talked to him. She knew who she was. Only until his eyes started to close did he just realize something even more peculiar.
He didn't even know her name.
