- Chapter 3 -
After the Percy fiasco, Isis firmly declared that I wouldn't be going outside of the hotel room, again ...
The streets are pretty crowded at this time of day. I almost feel a bit claustrophobic. Not to mention lonely. Bast utterly refused to come the second I mentioned that I'd be taking the subway, and Isis is currently providing an impressive feat of "cold shoulder." It is hard to realize how used you've grown to having voices constantly speaking in your head and reading your thoughts until they're gone.
As it is, the only thing going through my head right now is the music from my iPod. Although I have to blast it in order to drown out the sound of the crowd in my subway cart.
The second that last thought passes through my head, all of the noise shuts off. I look around the cart to find that no one is suddenly missing and there isn't someone holding a gun or causing a commotion; they've all just stopped talking by chance. At the same time. Skeptical? I know I am.
"Why now?"
The voice is that of a young girl sitting next to me: short, red hair, green eyes, green jumper dress, and a stuffed bird toy in her arms. She must be no older than six or seven. What in Ra's name is she doing riding the subway by herself?
"It's getting harder and harder to maintain peace as things are; we'll be in war very shortly. I don't understand why you would pick now to try and negotiate a truce," she says.
"Excuse me?"
Squeezing the bird toy in her hands, she says, "We aren't ready to talk to you. You should just go back from where you came."
"Who is we?"
"Us."
I can't help but smile, despite the strange conversation. She really is a cute, little girl. I put my hand on top of her head and say, "Where is your mum?"
"District of Columbia."
"Well what is she doing there when you're here?" I ask, mostly to myself. Could her mother be a politician? If so, then where is her father? Oh gods, I hope that she's not a runaway. Of course I'll have to return her if she is. And that kind of attention is something I really don't need right now.
The way that she stares at me is unnerving. As if she doesn't quite know what to think of me. "The appellate court is in session. She has to oversee the proceedings."
I could have sworn the Chief Justice here was a bloke. Oh, well. "Where is your dad, then?"
"Probably preparing."
"For what?"
"For the war."
"I'm fairly certain the war is already over."
She shakes her head and says seriously, "The war is going to begin very soon. I have tried to hold it off for as long as I can, but the time is drawing near."
It is just as I feared.
Well look who's finally decided to thaw out her shoulder.
We must leave Manhattan, Sadie.
Leave? Why? We've only been here for two days.
It only takes one day to start a war.
What do you mean 'a war?'
It seems the Greeks are in a worse condition than I had originally thought them to be. They are about to plunge themselves into a war.
With us?
No, with their enemies.
Who are their enemies?
"Kronos," the girl explains. "A war between Kronos and the Olympians will start very soon. Which is why we can't even considered working out a truce with the Egyptians right now."
We are not looking to settle a truce.
"Wait just a minute!" I exclaim, the sound almost echoeing through the quiet cart. No eye nor ear seems to be turned in our direction, despite the fact that we are the only ones talking or doing anything in our cart right now. Which, come to think of it, is a strange thing in itself.
What is it, Sadie?
I turn back to the girl. "Who are you, really? And don't you dare lie."
"I'm Irene, the goddess of peace," she says. As though it's such a given.
"I suppose this means the Olympians already know about me being here then?" I ask, resisting the urge to sigh. I should have known infiltrating their headquarters wouldn't be so easy.
Again, she shakes her head. "No. I'm the only one, as far as I know. And even that is only because of chance."
"Because of chance?" I repeat curiously.
She smiles. "We happened to pick the same subway. I wouldn't have been able to find you if I was looking for you: your presence is very hard to detect, especially with all of that Egyptian magic you have. Are you a goddess?"
"You didn't know?"
She shrugs her shoulders very slightly. "I had a guess."
"You won't tell them about me, will you? I'm not exactly supposed to be here right now." Yes, though I hate to admit it, I have been reduced to begging a six-year-old girl. There are lives at stake, though. Namely, mine.
Looking confused, she says, "I will have to tell them about you eventually. How else would we settle the truce?"
We are not looking for a truce! Do listen the first time we say something, child!
Isis! Some manners, please? Or need I remind you that she can turn us into the Olympians whenever she feels like it?
"If you aren't here to settle a truce, why are you here?" Irene asks.
She was feeling paranoid.
"Paranoid?"
I was not! Shut up, Isis!
She felt the other gods were watching her too closely and so she ran.
"I see. So then, who am I talking to right now?" Irene asks.
I am Isis, queen of the gods.
"I'm queen of the gods," I say.
We both are.
Irene tilts her head to the side slightly. "How does that work?"
"It doesn't work, is the problem," I say, rolling my eyes. "My name is Sadie, by the way."
She nods and says, "You should probably return to your family. Now isn't a good time for you to visit Manhattan."
"Because of the war?"
"Y-yes," Irene says, sniffling. She drops her head and hugs her little bird just as she begins to cry. "I'll have to go into hiding soon. Peace is nearly inexistant during times of war, you know."
Oh god, what do you do when the six-year-old goddess next to you starts crying? Comfort her? What if she tries to smite me or something?
Be realisitic, Sadie; she is the goddess of peace.
"Hey there, you don't need to cry," I say, cursing my voice for coming out in an awkward tone. I've never been one for comforting others. "Do you ... want some ice cream?"
She looks up, green eyes glistening at me through fat tears. "I'd prefer ambrosia. Do you have any?"
Ambrosia? What in Sekmet's mane is ambrosia?
Food of the Greek gods, I believe.
They have their own food? I pat my pockets and try for a smile. "Fresh out."
"Oh," she says softly as her tears start to pour, again.
"Alright, I'll make something for you. Just - just stop crying, ok?" I say and glance around us.
The people aren't looking this way (most likely still under what ever spell Irene has over them), but I'd rather not take that chance. I wave my hand and all of the mortals in our cart vanish. They'll appear in the other carts of our subway; I'm not that heartless. When I wave my hand, again, a warm glass appears in my grasp. I hand it to her.
Peering just over the rim of the glass, she asks, "What is it?"
"Sahlab," I say, recalling the first time I had this drink. What I can make isn't nearly as good as Nut can, but it still tastes fine, in my opinion. "You know hot chocolate, right? It's like hot vanilla."
She brings the glass to her lips and takes a very small taste of it. The lights in the cart brighten considerably as her face splits into a large, toothy smile. Goddess or no, that is adorable. Should I be frightened that this little girl is an immortal diety?
You are an immortal diety, as well.
That's different.
How so?
Because it is.
Brilliant response.
I liked it better when you were ignoring me.
Well I "liked it better" when we were still in Brooklyn.
Clutching her glass in between two, small hands, Irene looks back up at me and asks, "Why are you taking the subway?"
"I went to the library. To get a book, maybe."
"A book about what?"
About Greek mythology.
"You want to learn about Greek mythology?" Irene asks.
Because of that demigod boy she met earlier. What was his name? Perry? Peter?
"Percy?" Irene offers as her green eyes grow wide. "Percy Jackson?"
"You know him?" I ask.
"Percy is well known, even in the world of the gods. Many are putting their faith in his hands for the upcoming war."
Why am I not at all surprised that the Greeks are putting their faith in the hands of a pubescent half-god with the brain of a fish?
"That voice in your head ..." Irene pauses, frowning. "I don't like her."
"Neither do I."
You two are not my ideal company, either.
"How do you know Percy?" she asks.
I fight back a frown and say, "Isis and I found him after he had a run-in with a monster. Do you know why any monsters would attack him?"
"Actually there are several reasons why monsters would attack him. Ranging from the possibility of that monster working for Kronos to the possibility that it just liked Percy's scent."
"Monsters here attack you if they like your scent?"
Irene says, "They won't attack us. Probably not, anyway. We have too much power for them; they aren't very smart, but they know enough about survival to not blindly attack a goddess based on her scent."
"Always nice to know these things ..."
"Percy runs into monsters quite often from what I hear. Unfortunately, with situations like Percy's, my work can't reach them very easily. Demigods don't normally ever settle peacefully and happily for the rest of their lives," Irene says as she solemnly traces circles onto the surface of the bench next to her.
"So they're doomed from birth?" I ask sarcastically. I don't believe in the concept of a cursed fate; if your life stinks, it's because you made it that way.
Frowning, Irene says, "Half-bloods don't make their lives that way."
"How do you know?"
"Because no one would want to make their lives that way."
"Well, putting aside his predetermined woes, I won't be seeing him, again. I healed him, found out who his father is, and sent him on his way."
"You healed him?"
I don't like the way she says that. With uncertainty, I say, "Yes?"
"Then he'll be back," she says and smiles.
"No he won't."
She nods her head firmly. "He will. If there is one thing a demigod knows well, it's to take help when ever and where ever he can get it."
"You make him sound like a stray dog."
"That might not be so far from the truth."
Regardless of whether or not he is stray-dog-like, he'll be getting the boot if he shows up in front of me, again. Which, with any luck, won't even happen. If I can get home, that is. My eyes leave Irene to scan around the empty subway cart. Just how long is it to the next station?
The girl goddess has made our trip longer than it needs to be, obviously.
"I just wanted to talk to you for a bit," Irene explains meekly. The subway suddenly starts to slow down, and so I guess we must be approaching a station.
I stand up, but can't help looking back at her. Should I really leave her here? "Where are you going from here?"
A sad smile comes to her face, "I need to find a place to hide for the war. A place far from Manhattan."
"I see. I guess Brooklyn is out of the question, then?"
"Is that where the home of the Egyptian gods is?"
The subway comes to a stop and I out of the nearest door. "We keep our palace somewhere a little more remote than the New York Boroughs."
Irene calls after me, "Leave Manhattan soon, Sadie. You might not be able to later on."
"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, poking my head back inside the cart. Only she isn't there anymore. The people I had banished from the cart earlier are back on it and just now beginning to pour out of it as other people are coming in. There is no trace of Irene even having been there.
What an odd girl.
"Without a doubt."
Making my way out of the subway station, I emerge back on the street and start off in the direction of my hotel.
That last comment she made bothers me. She can't know that I would get stuck here if I stayed too long. Brooklyn is only on the other side of the river, after all. How could I possibly become stuck here? Not even to mention the fact that I only plan to spend a week here.
Plenty can happen in a week.
And plenty can not happen in a week. Is it so wrong for me to think that I'm going to have an innocent week of relaxation in a luxorious hotel, away from Carter and the prying eyes of the gods? I don't think it is.
You are ranting, Sadie.
Then let me rant, Isis. Gods know I need to blow off some steam while I'm here, or I might end up snapping in the middle of court.
I would never let that happen.
You might not have a choice in the matter if things keep going as they have.
Is that a threat?
Not unless you want it to be.
Stepping through the revolving door of the hotel, I take in a deep breath and shut my eyes for a moment to listen to the chorus of murming voices and clacking of heels against the tile. Everyone seems to be walking every-which-way here, talking on their phones or typing something into their laptops. Carter would love this: seeing people moving about like busy bees in a hive. That sort of stuff reminds him that everyone has a purpose, he once told me.
You miss him.
No I don't. I walk to the elevators and step in with a few other adults. They only spare me a few seconds of attention before deciding that I'm not worth it and turning back to their own matters. One by one, the elevator stops and the people get off, until I'm the last one left. After a slow while later, the doors open up to the 77th floor.
God, why is this happening?
"Hey, Sadie," Percy says, simpering from where he's sitting against the wall next to my hotel room door. As though I didn't kick him out. As though he's supposed to be here. As though he doesn't currently have a passed out girl leaning against his shoulder.
"No," I say. Short and simple. Hopefully, he'll get the message.
He either doesn't hear me or ignores me. "This is Annabeth. I went out looking for her and found her not too far from where I got attacked. She, uh, she won't wake up. I think she might've hit her head."
"No," I repeat. Maybe he really is like a dog; you need to say "no" several times in a stern tone to get rid of him.
"Come on! I know my injuries were worse than you said they were, and I know they didn't heal naturally." Biting his bottom lip uncertainly, he looks to Annabeth, and then back to me. "All I'm asking is that you do to her what you did to me. No questions asked, and we'll leave as soon as she's awake."
"No." I walk past him and open my door, then shut it behind me.
The hotel room is quiet and dark. It only makes it that much easier to recall who is currently in the hall, just on the other side of the door behind me. The same person who hasn't moved at all so far. I listen for the sound of him standing up, shifting around, talking, doing anything, but nothing comes. He doesn't move.
Gods above! Swinging the door open, I fix him with a glare and say, "Fine. Bring her in."