Now, normally, when a person wakes up, they like to wake from a nice long deep sleep undisturbed by nightmares and other people. They would probably like to get up, eat breakfast, and start off the day like the jolly person they are supposed to be.
Because I am not a nice normal person, I didn't wake up the nice normal way.
Instead, I landed hard on my shoulder after falling off my bunk, startled by the crash made by somebody running into my door. Rubbing my shoulder resentfully, I opened the door, fully intending to give whoever it was a piece of my mind. I was hoping it was somebody I could yell at easily.
Nobody was there.
I glanced around, squinting into the darkness of the way-too-early morning, and caught sight of a figure flitting between the cabins, blending into the shadows. It was almost impossible to see, and I only saw it when it ran through a grayish patch of light, outlining the figure for a brief second.
I closed the door and crawled back into bed, emptying my mind of everything – the nightmare, the camp gossip, the suspicious person running around at an ungodly hour, the crash that woke me up. I fell asleep for a fitful, but thankfully undisturbed, two hours.
"Have you noticed Nico's been acting weird lately?" Annabeth asked me casually during Ancient Greek later that day. I was preoccupied with figuring out how to translate "Paris, prince of Troy, snuck out in the middle of the night with the beautiful queen Helen," into English. So far I had "Paris, pretty boy, ran away in the middle of a Hydra," which somehow I didn't think was right.
"Hm? Nico? What about him?" I mumbled, giving the Iliad a useless glare. It mocked me with its angular Greek writing that looked like piles of sticks in my head. I knew better than to cuss at it, though. The last time I did that, Annabeth made me write "I must not out-cuss Shakespeare" in Greek, because she was forcing me to read A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was a romance play- one of the things I was not fond of.
"He's been acting kind of jumpy, and afraid. Uh, Thalia, it's 'prince of Troy,' not 'pretty boy.'" Annabeth pointed at the line.
I frowned. "I knew that."
"Yeah. So do you have any idea why? It started something like a week ago, after you guys had your famous sword fight."
"I meant I knew the translation. Hey, wasn't Paris a mortal obsessed with his mirror?"
"That's kind of the whole point of him being stupid enough to judge a contest between three goddesses that can fry him into ashes. Now, don't change the subject."
"I knew that, too."
A smile tugged at Annabeth's lips. "Okay, fine. I've also noticed," she paused, "that Nico's been acting differently ever since you got here. Any idea why?"
I looked at her, my eyes wide and innocent. "Nope. He looks fine to me."
"That's because you didn't know how he was before you got here. It's simple logic. You should talk to him."
Now I openly gaped. "Why should I talk to him? It's not my problem."
"Okay, okay, do what you want. Anyway, after 'prince of Troy' is 'snuck out in the middle of the night'; Paris didn't run away eaten by a Hydra."
"Man, I hate Ancient Greek."
"Touché."
I started keeping tabs on Nico for the next couple of days. I realized Annabeth was right; Nico was skittish and fickle. He kept shooting me futile looks, and often had an expression on his face like he wanted to talk to me, but was afraid to. Finally my patience ran out.
That night at dinner, Nico almost purposely winded up next to me to sacrifice his food. He opened his mouth, but before he could close it and walk away, I cut him off.
"Go back to your table," I hissed, trying not to move my mouth. He obeyed, the way people generally do when I order something. He muttered something to his dad to go with his barbecue, and slid inconspicuously back to his table in the shadows.
"For Zeus," I muttered, dropping a thick, crispy slice of buttered bread into the fire. The smoke rising from it momentarily turned into a faint breeze, heavy with the metallic scent of ozone – like the warning before a thunderstorm.
That probably meant my risky rule-breaking plan was going to fail.
Sitting back at my table, I nibbled on a slice of pizza, waiting for Mr. D to leave. My plan would fail even worse if I was strangled by magical grapevines. That would suck. Chiron was talking to Will Solace from the Apollo cabin. Fidgeting, I lingered, not really eating, until Dionysus finally left. I grabbed my pizza and walked over to the Hades table, not bothering to hide my actions.
Boy, this was going to set off a whole explosion of rumors.
Nico looked up from his dinner, and nearly choked on his water. After regaining the ability to breathe, he kind of stared at me as I slid into the seat opposite him.
I had a sudden image of flipping my hair and saying, "'Sup," like Paris probably would do to Helen. Sometimes ADHD was entertaining. A smile quirked my lip, but then it faded.
"Look, it's only a matter of time until Chiron kicks me back to my table, so whatever you have to say, make it quick," I said irritably, glancing over my shoulder. I saw people whispering at their tables, but the general chit-chat covered it up.
Nico sipped his water, taking his sweet time. "Who says I have something to say to you?"
I glowered at him. "You've been stalking me for the past week!"
Nico nodded sagely. "I see."
"Would you hurry up?" I growled in frustration.
"It's Hades."
"What about Hades?"
"He gave me a message about the rock. I'm not sure which rock- they're hardly rare- but it's obviously an important rock."
The piece of pizza in my hand was undoubtedly on its merry way to meet the floor.
"I had a feeling I should tell you," Nico shrugged, looking under the table at the floor's new friend, my formerly edible pizza.
"So you've been acting all skittish because you wanted to tell me your dad told you about a rock."
The son of Hades nodded. "That just about sums it up."
I groaned. "Bye."
Nico shrugged again and went back to eating his barbecue.
I went through my activities as usual for the rest of the week. I'd learned how to hide my feelings well because of my mother always telling me to be the leader, and the leader couldn't show fear. It came naturally to me, after twenty or so years, to pretend to be normal and that nothing was wrong. In truth, I was unnerved.
The dream kept coming back in little snatches. The surreal persuading voice muddled my thoughts, and I kept waking up early in the morning with the sheets tangled around me, whipping my head from side to side in a nervous sweat. It threw me so much that I kept jumping at little noises, not sure what was coming next.
I hated not knowing things, especially the future. If I don't know, I can't control it. Which never sat well with me, even though I knew that learning the future and being tempted to change it would most likely lead to a big spaghetti-like bowl of nothing good.
There was someone that I could ask, though, someone who spoke guessing games that messed with your mind. I knew going to the Oracle of Delphi was risky; everyone, even me, had heard stories about campers that died from fear of the visions, and others that had been driven insane.
I figured insane was the place I was going if I didn't ask anyways, what with all the confusion and circles of thoughts, and people treating me like a gossip topic. I went to the Big House, to the room where Rachel Dare stayed.
I quietly entered the house, avoiding the hospital wing, even though it was empty. I hated sickness even more than not knowing things; it made you weak. Climbing up the stairs, I got more anxious with each step. After what seemed like an eternity of stairs, hallways, and doors, I found the one with paint splatters around the edges. There was a plaque in the middle, also slightly smudged, that read:
R.E.D.
Oracle of Delphi
I wondered if Rachel had picked out the plaque, and why her initials spelled out 'red'. I knocked on the door lightly. After a couple seconds, a girl with pale skin and fiery red hair opened the door, wearing a 'Harvard Art Dept.' T-shirt and jeans with marker doodles scrawled on them. She had a paintbrush tucked over her ear, even though it was dripping paint. Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Oracle of Delphi.
"Hi," she said, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Come on in. You here for me, or the Oracle?"
I stepped in and looked around. Rachel's room was pretty big, with a small bed in the corner by the window, and an empty space with a three-legged stool in it. The rest of the room was taken up by easels with canvases, and paintings and sketches were hanging in every available space. There were drawings of the gods, monsters, and a couple of portraits. I recognized Percy on one of them.
Rachel gestured to the extra chair next to the stool. "Have a seat." I settled on it uncomfortably.
"Um," I started. Now that I was here, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. I'd really only witnessed one prophecy, the one where the mummified shell of the Oracle walked out into the woods and gave Zoë Nightshade her prophecy of doom. It didn't exactly boost my confidence, even though the current Oracle was much more alive than the last one.
"Thalia, right? I'm guessing you know who I am. So what's new?" Rachel sat cross-legged on her bed, the paintbrush still perched on her ear.
"Well, I'm kinda out of the Hunters, and there's been a lot of confusion going on with me at camp, and . . . I just really need some advice."
"And you thought maybe the Oracle could help you with it," she finished.
I shifted in my seat. "Yeah."
"Let me give Delphi a call . . . Oh, great, here -" Rachel doubled over like she was going to throw up. I dragged her over onto the stool.
Rachel's green eyes started glowing. She opened her mouth, and glowing green smoke flowed out, hissing like acid. Somehow, it was even creepier seeing a living person spout a prophecy than watching a corpse do it.
Rachel straightened on the stool, and when she spoke, it sounded like three raspy women speaking exactly in sync with each other. The voice was hard to describe; it didn't actually speak. Instead, it slithered into my head and coiled around my mind: I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.
I wanted to back away and say, Never mind, wrong room, I'm outta here, bye. But I sucked it up and took a deep breath.
"What do I have to do?"
The mist thickened in front of me, sculpting itself into the shape of a woman. Her face became more defined until I could see exactly who it was.
My mother.
I clenched my fist, digging my nails into my palm, even though I knew it was just mist. She was the reason I ran away. She was why my childhood was so horrible. She was the person I hated most in the world. And now she was probably tell me how I was going to die. How convenient.
She opened her mouth, and spoke in the raspy voice of the Oracle:
You shall go west to the prison of the rock,
Face the queen of the broken clock,
All of the three shall be torn apart,
The shock and shadow through the heart,
The one to flee behind unjust,
Clouds the comer you cannot trust.
I stood in shock as the image dissolved, turning back into a smoky green python that slithered back into Rachel's mouth. Rachel unfroze, her eyes back to her normal green, and coughed.
"Man, I hate when the snake goes down my throat. So what did the Oracle say?" Rachel asked, getting up from the stool and settling back onto her bed. I collapsed on the chair.
"Thalia? Are you okay?" Rachel waved a hand in front of my face. "Snap out of it!"
I shook myself back. "Yeah, I – I'm okay. I – gotta go. Thanks, Rachel." Rachel nodded, picking up her paintbrush from where it had fallen on the floor and turning back to an unfinished painting. I slipped out the door and ran as fast as I could out of the house.
"Hey, Chiron," I said automatically when he cantered up to me from the archery field. Chiron smiled and dipped his head in greeting.
"Good afternoon, Thalia. May I have a word?"
"Sure." Chiron started walking in a random direction. I jogged to keep up.
"I understand that there have been . . . difficulties . . . regarding your reappearance at Camp Half-Blood. So young," he murmured, then looked back at me, not breaking stride. "How have you been coping?"
I furrowed my brow. "I've been doing fine. It's a lot of pressure, but I deal with it." I didn't bother elaborating.
Chiron nodded, stroking his beard. "Many heroes crack under such pressure. You, however, are not one of them." He smiled warmly at me. "But I must warn you to be careful. Do not act rashly, and if circumstances are forced upon you, heed the ancient laws. You must be careful." I looked at him, surprised. He sounded like he knew exactly what was going on. Then again, after teaching heroes for thousands of years, he was probably good at deductive reasoning.
I nodded, smiled, and made my exit. Chiron cantered away, off to do some activity director stuff. His words echoed in my mind.
Heed the ancient laws . . .
Well, if I was going to go on this stupid quest I'd gotten myself into, I might as well do it heeding the ancient laws, to spare myself a truckload of trouble. Which meant I had to find somebody very important.
"Nico!" I grabbed his arm as I passed him in the common area.
"Thalia!" Nico feigned excitement, but quickly dropped back into its usual moody glower. "What?"
"Oh, come on. Is it so wrong of me to talk to you?"
"Maybe." He scowled at the sun. Did his face ever change from that expression?
"Look, there's this thing that's been going on . . . Can you get out of camp whenever you want?"
Nico eyed me suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"
I didn't get it. Why was he being so cold towards me? I couldn't remember doing anything to him.
"Because I need to get out of camp." I was openly hostile now. Well, if he was going to be a brat, I might as well be a brat back. I wasn't his counselor.
"Gee, that clears it up."
We had a brief staring contest, which we tied in. He changed the subject. "I've been thinking about my dad's message. He told me to beware the rock -"
I rolled my eyes. "Let's skip to the part where you figured something out."
Nico rolled his eyes back at me. "I'm going to the rock to get rid of whatever's over there."
"What?"
"Plus it gives me an excuse to get away from this infernal camp."
I made up my mind. "I'm going with you."
"No you're not."
"Yes I am. First of all, I have a pretty good idea where this rock is, and second of all, if I'm right, you'll die when the person at the rock snaps her fingers. And third, I got a prophecy about going to the rock. So shut it." I hadn't meant to tell him I visited the Oracle.
Oops.
Nico narrowed his eyes at me. "You went to the Oracle." Somehow, making it into a statement made it seem even more idiotic.
"Uh, yeah."
"And got a prophecy."
"Uh-huh."
"That was probably the stupidest thing you could've done."
"Thanks for the support."
"What did it say?"
I shifted my feet. I figured Nico was pretty much my only way out of the camp, so I recited the prophecy to him. He frowned, fiddled with his skull ring, and frowned again. Did the guy ever show any emotion besides that?
"Come on," he said, grabbing my wrist with his ice-cold hand and dragging me across the common area.
I yanked my hand back. "Where are we going?"
Nico sighed, exasperated. "To get Percy." I understood immediately. We started towards the Poseidon cabin again, an uneasy silence stretching for the remainder of the way.
"So we have a quest nobody knows about except us?" Percy said, sitting on his (extremely messy) bunk. The Poseidon cabin was about as neat as the Zeus cabin, and I wasn't especially good at cleaning up. I could see a pair of running shorts flopping out from under Percy's bed. He had his Minotaur horn hanging on a hook on the wall, and miniature bronze hippocampi bobbed through the air, looking as though they were swimming through the watery green light. It was much homier than the Zeus cabin.
I nodded in answer to his question. "Us, and Rachel Dare." Nico stood by the door, leaning against it.
Percy said, "I'm not sure if I can go." Immediately Nico and I started protesting; if he didn't come, chances were that we were going to strangle each other before we made it out of the city. Percy held up his hands. "But maybe. I mean, we're leaving on a whim. We've got no clue where we're going, and, well, I've got Annabeth to think of. I can't leave with no explanation, and I can't tell her about this either." I looked at Nico, and he looked at me back, his face expressionless.
"I know where we're going," I said. Percy perked up. "Alcatraz." There was dead silence in the room.
"It's the first line of the prophecy," Nico spoke up. "You shall go west to the prison of the rock. Clear as mud." Sarcasm dripped from his words.
Percy looked amused. "Nico, why are you such a pessimist?"
"I'm not a pessimist. I'm a realist. It just comes across as pessimism," Nico said, somewhat indignantly. I snorted.
"Nah, you're a pessimist."
I said, "So? Are you coming with us?"
Percy hesitated, then hesitated some more. Finally, he said, "Okay. But where do we start?" Now it was my turn to hesitate.
Nico butted in. "How about your mom's place, Percy? We can't exactly go anywhere else outside camp. Well, you can't." I ignored the jibe in his words. I'd only met Percy's mom once, but if it was good enough for Nico to suggest, it was good enough for me.
"But I need something to tell Annabeth. And Thalia, you'll have to come up with an excuse too; Chiron and Mr. D. won't let you go outside of camp, and especially not for an illegal, unknown quest," Percy said, getting up and pacing.
I nodded, "Yeah, I've got that mostly sorted out. Nico doesn't matter -"
"Hey! I'm your ticket out of here!"
"- he disappears once in a while anyways, but you can Iris-message Annabeth after we're at your mom's place. I just hope you've gotten better at lying, or else we could be completely busted. I'll tell Chiron . . ." I trailed off, wracking my brain for something that would work. "I'll tell Chiron that I don't like it here at camp, so I'm going to stay at your place for a couple of weeks. That'll work, right?" I asked Percy.
"Yeah, probably," he agreed. Then he slumped. "I wish I could tell Annabeth."
I knew telling Annabeth could be risky. I mean, she could easily tell Chiron, but on the other hand, she would be invaluable help. I remembered how stubborn she could be, and if we could work the right angle . . . I made up my mind.
"Tell Annabeth, then. But make sure she'll help us. You know how persistent she is; if she makes up her mind she'll never change it," I said. Percy brightened.
"When do we leave?" Nico asked.
I replied, "As soon as we pack."
Percy said, "Meet me back here when you guys are done." I murmured a yes.
I followed Nico out of Cabin 3. Then I walked back to my cabin, grabbed a worn black backpack with a lightning strike on it, and started shoving supplies into it: A bottle of nectar, a baggie of ambrosia, a couple drachma, extra clothes, a hairbrush, and toiletries. I stopped to look around the cabin to see if there was anything I forgot, and my eyes fell on the pictures taped by my bed.
After a moment's pause, I carefully pulled the one of Luke and Annabeth pointing down a dark alley and grinning off the wall and tucked it in a pocket of my backpack.
When I made my way back to the Poseidon cabin, Percy wasn't there. I waited impatiently for five minutes, before hearing footsteps. I looked up and found Nico instead of Percy.
"Do you have any idea where he is?" he asked irritably.
"Probably talking with Annabeth," I said irritably back. It seemed as though we could never get along. We waited for another ten minutes before Percy came running up to us, Annabeth at his side.
Annabeth started talking as soon as we were within clear earshot. "Look, I don't like the idea of you guys running off, but since the Oracle said so," Annabeth shot me a look, "you have to go. I'll make up something believable for Chiron, so you aren't thrown out when you get back. Camp ends in two weeks anyways, so it's not that much of a surprise if a couple campers take some early vacations. Since you've all been on quests before, you should know the stuff to bring, but just make sure you include -" At this point Annabeth started listing off all the things she thought we should bring, from money to food to extra socks. It seemed her memory was as good as ever.
I chuckled, and Percy laughed. Nico remained stoic as ever. "We get it, we get it. Thanks for everything, Wise Girl." He gave her a chaste kiss. I looked at the ground. Nico moved uncomfortably next to me.
"Um, guys, we should probably go. This is the best time for shadow-traveling," Nico interrupted. Annabeth nodded, her cheeks slightly pink. She hugged Percy one last time.
"Good luck," she said. "You're going to need it." Annabeth turned around and started walking back to her cabin.
We stood there for a moment. Then I said, "Nico, did you say shadow-traveling?"
Nico nodded. "It's the fastest way to get out of camp. Not to mention the only one I can use."
I swallowed, then gripped Nico's ice-cold hand with one hand, and clutched my backpack with the other. In less than a second, I had the feeling of my face peeling off as the shadows had swallowed us up.
This time, when we landed, I barely registered where I was before I slumped onto Percy's bed, trying to get my breath back. I didn't know why shadow traveling affected me so much, but I hated it whenever Nico made me do it.
Blinking, I made no attempt to get off Percy's bed and looked around instead. His room was dark and homey, with the walls painted a dark blue color. A couple posters of fish were hanging on the walls. There was one bed in the middle of the room, and a duffel bag was thrown haphazardly on the floor. I spotted a nightstand with a fish bowl with three goldfish in it. Behind me was a glass door going out to the fire escape, and in front of me was a regular one leading to the kitchen. Next to it was a door, probably for the bathroom.
Percy shook my shoulder. "Thalia! Thalia, are you okay?" I nodded, pushing myself off his bed.
"What now?"
Nico shrugged, looking a little tired. "I figured we'd spend the night here, leave tomorrow morning."
Percy and I murmured our consent. Then Percy led the way into his kitchen, where Mrs. Jackson was sitting at the kitchen table, laughing with a guy I assumed was Percy's step-dad, Paul Blofis. Mr. Blofis looked up first, his mouth dropping open at the sight of three teenagers in his house who obviously didn't come through the front door. Mrs. Jackson saw us next, her expression one of pleased surprise.
"Hi, Mrs. Jackson," I said as innocently as possible. "Do you mind if we spend the night?"
