Disclaimer: I don't own PJO.
Chapter Four
I Get A New Roommate
Ever go into your bedroom and get the feeling that even though it all looks the same on the outside, you get the awful suspicion that on the inside, everything is completely different? Completely wrong?
That's what I felt like, seeing Camp Half-Blood again after over two months. The last time I had been here, everything was normal. Kids were doing their lessons outside under Chiron's careful eye (demigods didn't learn well stuck at desks in classroom, and Chiron had long since learned the best way to teach us anything we needed to know.), others were sparring and doing other activities, while still others tended the strawberry fields.
It all seemed wrong now.
On the surface, things didn't look all that different. The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley, the amphitheatre, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins, a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.
But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong. Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counsellors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.
Somebody had messed with my favourite place in the world, and I was not … well, a happy camper.
As we made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer and during the year. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back," or asked about my latest trip outside of the wards, like they had every other time I returned home. Some did double-takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties, running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school. And believe me, I know. I've been both kicked out and run away from a couple. It wasn't all like the camp I knew, and I hated it instantly.
"Luke, what happened?" I whispered to him. My distress leaked into my tone, and he reached out to grab my hand and rub his thumb over my knuckles without glancing at me.
"It's a long story," he explained gruffly. "Chiron will be able to explain better than me."
Tyson was oblivious to both the looks given to him by various campers, and the air of oncoming doom that had engulfed my home. No, Tyson was fascinated by the whole place. He kept pointing at stuff and asking what it was. Truthfully, I was in a bit too stressed for it right then.
"Whasthat!" he gasped.
"The stables for pegasi," I said as patiently as I could. "The winged horses."
"Whasthat!"
"Um … those are the toilets."
"Whasthat!"
"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes cabin, that brown one over there. Luke is the head counsellor of it, until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."
He looked at me in awe. "You … have a cabin?"
"Number three." My voice went crisp as I pointed to a low grey building made of sea stone.
"You live with friends in the cabin?"
"No. It's just me." I didn't elaborate. The truth is, I was the only one who stayed in that cabin because I wasn't supposed to be alive.
The "Big Three" gods, Zeus, my father Poseidon, and Hades, had made a pact after World War II not to have any more children with mortals. It was for two reasons. The official reason? We were more powerful than regular half-bloods. We were too unpredictable. When we got mad we tended to cause problems … like World War II, for instance.
The unofficial reason was that the Oracle had predicted a half-blood of the Elder Three was going to either save or destroy the world. Currently, yours truly was the only candidate for that particular disaster. As you can imagine, I don't really like talking about it.
The "Big Three" pact had only been broken twice, once when Zeus sired Thalia, once when Poseidon sired me. Neither of us should've been born.
Thalia had died and turned into a tree when she was twelve. Me? I was determined to die of something ridiculously boring and mundane. Like cancer or a car crash. Preferably before I turned sixteen and destroyed Western Civilization. I figured that'd be a nicely ironic way to spite the Fates.
When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favourite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. Of course, to me the 'music' sounded more like a cat being brutally tortured, but I loved Chiron too much to say so.
As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. I covered my eyes with my hand briefly.
Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"
I suddenly registered that Chiron was packing, remembered what Clarisse had said about the new activities director, and I ran up and hugged him. "Chiron, what's happening?" I asked as I buried my head in his shoulder. "You're not … leaving?" My voice was shaky as I pulled back to give him an imploring look. Chiron was the closest thing to a parent I had since my mom died.
Chiron ruffled my hair and gave me a kindly smile. "Hello, child. My goodness. You've grown over the past few months!"
He gave Tyson a brief look and then raised an exasperated eyebrow at me. "I take it this young Cyclops is the reason you've been away for so long?"
I sniffed and nodded. "This is Tyson," I introduced them miserably. "I found him right after leaving the last time. But never mind that. You can't leave! Chiron, we need you!"
Chiron's eyes glinted with uncharacteristically dark humour. "Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr. D had to punish someone."
"Besides himself, you mean," I growled. I wasn't particularly fond of Mr. D in the first place, and the knowledge that he was sending Chiron away was enough to make me contemplate the odds of whether or not I could push him into Tartarus.
"But this is crazy!" Luke cried. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"
"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances."
"What circumstances?" I asked, bemused. Chiron was the most loyal subject of Olympus I had ever met. How could the gods not trust him, especially when he'd being responsible for training their children for millennia? It made no sense.
Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin-English dictionary into his saddlebag while the Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boom box.
Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?"
Chiron sniffed. "My dear young Cyclops! I am a centaur. "
"Chiron," I pressed. "What about the tree? What happened?"
He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Ana. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."
"Then we know who's responsible. Kro—"
"Do not invoke the titan lord's name, Ana. Especially not here, not now. You know better than that."
"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This has to be his idea. He'd get them to do it, those traitors." I suddenly winced, tossing Luke an apologetic look. As usual, his face had darkened at the mention of Annabeth and Ethan's betrayal.
"Perhaps," Chiron acknowledged. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless …"
"Unless what?" Luke demanded, seizing on the words.
"No," Chiron shook his head. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."
"What is it?" I pressed eagerly. "We'll go find it!"
Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the stop button on his boom box. Then he turned and rested his hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eyes. "Ana, you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told you I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave again."
"Why?" I protested. "I want to do something! I can't just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be—"
"Overrun by monsters," Chiron said. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life."
It was true, but still, I wanted to help so badly. I also wanted to make Kronos pay. I mean, you'd think the titan lord would've learned his lesson eons ago when he was overthrown by the gods. You'd think getting chopped into a million pieces and cast into the darkest part of the Underworld would give him a subtle clue that nobody wanted him around. But no. Because he was immortal, he was still alive down there in Tartarus, suffering in eternal pain, hungering to return and take revenge on Olympus. He couldn't act on his own, but he was great at twisting the minds of mortals and even gods to do his dirty work.
The poisoning had to be his doing. Who else would be so low as to attack Thalia's tree, the only thing left of a hero who'd given her life to save her friends?
And the whole 'don't act rashly' thing. That was difficult for me. I was perfectly willing to admit and accept that I tended to jump first and look later. But 'sitting back and doing nothing was even less like me. I needed to take action, to barge in head first and fix things. Not stand back and watch helplessly as my home was destroyed.
Luke let out a shaky breath, his bright blue eyes glimmering slightly from held back tears. Chiron pulled him into a hug for a moment.
"Stay with Ana, child," he instructed Luke. "Be wary, and remember the oath you took last year. And remember the prophecy!"
At another time, I would have been tempted to press and find out if he was talking about the prophecy about the end of the world, but not right now. Right now I was biting my lip so hard I could taste blood to keep from crying.
"Chiron …" Luke said, his voice as shaky as mine had been. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—"
I moaned slightly in horror, and Chiron shook his head.
"Don't worry about me," he insisted. "Just worry about yourselves and each other. Stay together. You will need each other." He stood back and straightened his shoulders. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return. Until then, I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved … one way or another."
I stifled a sob and Chiron patted my shoulder awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. We must hope … well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."
"Who the Tartarus is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" I demanded, trying to replace my upset with the easier to deal with emotion of anger. "Where does he get off taking your job?"
A conch horn blew across the valley. I hadn't realized how late it was. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner.
"Go," Chiron ordered us. "You will meet him at the pavilion. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the Titan Lord has forgotten you!"
With that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"
I realized I'd forgotten to tell Chiron about my dream of Grover. Now it was too late. The closest thing I had to a parent was gone, maybe for good.
Tyson started bawling, and Luke sat down on the floor, burying his head in his hands despairingly. I tried to tell them that things would be okay, but I didn't believe it and it came across in my voice and expression. Tears were falling down my cheeks unchecked.
The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins.
We stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in. Luke was still pretty shaken up, but he promised he'd talk to us later. Then, after checking I was holding myself together, he went off to join the Hermes cabin.
Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares cabin. She had one arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but otherwise her encounter with the bronze bulls didn't seem to have fazed her.
Someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that said, YOU MOO, GIRL! But nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about it. I caught her eye and made a series of vague gestures to alert her. She quickly grabbed it off and cast a threatening look at the Stoll twins, the resident pranksters of the Camp.
After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin, six kids led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen-year-old African American kid. He had hands the size of catchers' mitts and a face that was hard and squinty from looking into a blacksmiths forge all day. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles. Most just called him Beckendorf.
He was the best creator in camp, and he could make anything. Give him a chunk of metal and he could create a razor-sharp sword or a robotic warrior or a singing birdbath for your grandmother's garden. Whatever you wanted. A few weeks ago I challenged him over an IM to create a phone that didn't attract monsters, and as far as I knew he was making progress.
The other cabins filed in: Demeter, led my friend Katie, Apollo, Will giving me a nod, Aphrodite, Silena looking uncharacteristically grim, Athena with Malcolm at the head, and Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake. Dryads melted out of the trees. From the meadow came a dozen satyrs, who reminded me painfully of Grover.
As soon as the last campers had filed in, I led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion.
Conversations faltered. Heads turned. "Who invited that?" somebody at the Apollo table murmured.
I glared in their direction, but I couldn't figure out who'd spoken.
From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Amy Johnson. My millennium is complete."
I gritted my teeth. "Ana Jackson … sir."
Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: Whatever."
He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D one at a time.
Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was someone I'd never seen before, a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jumpsuit. The number over his pocket read 0001. He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut grey hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker. He stared at me; his eyes made me nervous. He looked … fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry all at the same time. It was creepy, and I suddenly wished I had my sword in hand to decapitate him with.
"This girl," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's child, you know."
"Ah!" the prisoner said. "That one."
His tone made it obvious that he and Dionysus had already discussed me at length.
"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Anaea Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."
"Trouble?" I demanded.
"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."
I was too mad to speak. Like it was my fault the gods had almost gotten into a civil war?
A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."
The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.
"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will work."
Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.
"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.
"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."
"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"
I snapped my fingers in sudden realization. "You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," I declared. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."
"A real scholar, aren't you, girl?" Tantalus scoffed, eyes flashing dangerously. I met his challenge, deliberately donning my most infuriatingly cocky expression, one that had driven many a foster parent and social worker to homicidal fits. He thought he could come in here and replace Chiron? I'd make him wish that he was still in the Underworld.
"Didn't you murder your own son and feed him to the gods?" I asked in a sickly sweet tone. "Parenting of the Year, hun. Great idea, putting you in charge of a bunch of kids and teenagers."
A ripple of muttering had started up among the campers at my accusation. The younger campers were pulled to their elder siblings' sides protectively, and others grasped at their cutlery tightly, narrowing their eyes at Tantalus suspiciously. My smirk grew.
"I'll be watching you, Ana Jackson," Tantalus said, in what I assume he meant to be a threatening tone. Someone should have told him that I was born without self-preservation instincts. "I don't want any problems at my camp."
"Your camp has problems already … sir."
"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. "I believe that table over there is yours, the one where no one else ever wants to sit."
I had to bite my tongue, but I knew better than to talk back. Dionysus was an overgrown brat, but he was an immortal, superpowerful overgrown brat. As much as I liked adrenaline rushes, I wasn't that bad.
"Fine," I bit out. "Come on, Tyson."
"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."
My eyes darkened, and I felt the ground beneath my feet tremble slightly. I really hoped that wasn't me. I wasn't in the mood for another power advance.
"Him," I snapped. "His name is Tyson."
The new activities director raised an eyebrow.
"Tyson saved the camp," I insisted. "He pounded those bronze bulls. Otherwise they would've burned down this whole place."
"Yes," Tantalus sighed, "and what a pity that would've been."
"Yes, you'd have to go back to Punishment again," I snapped, making his expression darken again.
Dionysus snickered.
"Leave us," Tantalus ordered, "while we decide this creature's fate."
Tyson looked at me with fear in his one big eye, but I knew I couldn't disobey a direct order from the camp directors. Not openly, anyway.
"I'll be right over here, baby," I promised. "Don't worry. Everything'll be fine."
Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."
Which made me feel a whole lot guiltier.
I trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench. A wood nymph brought me a plate of Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza, but I wasn't hungry. I'd been almost killed twice today. I'd caused a tsunami and possibly gained the ability to create earthquakes. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron had told me not to do anything about it.
I didn't feel very thankful, but I took my dinner, as was customary, up to the bronze brazier and scraped part of it into the flames.
"Poseidon," I murmured, "accept my offering."
The smoke from the burning pizza changed into something fragrant, the smell of a clean sea breeze with wild-flowers mixed in, but I had no idea if that meant my father was really paying attention. I scraped in a bit for Hestia and the other minor gods as I always did, then returned to my table to rub worriedly at my temples and pick at my food glumly.
I didn't think things could get much worse. But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.
"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches.
I smirked, along with most of the other campers. Tantalus wasn't making himself popular, at least.
"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."
Considering who was speaking, I wasn't surprised that I wasn't the only person to reach for my sword and glare at him.
Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some halfhearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.
"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"
Murmuring broke out at all the tables, excitement, fear and disbelief filled the air.
"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."
"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," Austin at the Apollo table called.
"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"
An explosion of excited conversation, no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning? Was he serious?
But apparently I wasn't the only person unconcerned with games at the moment.
"But, sir!" Clarisse objected. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots—"
"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"
Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't—"
"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"
"But the tree—"
"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Ana Jackson and Luke Castellan have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.
Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers. A lot of sideways looks at me. I wanted to kill Tantalus. Again.
"Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its' brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"
Silence at the Hermes table. Luke grimaced and developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. I couldn't blame him. The Hermes cabin was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a six-foot-three Cyclops. And I knew why Luke didn't like Cyclopses.
"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kennelled?"
Suddenly everybody gasped.
Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the brilliant green light that was about to change my life, a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.
Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident, the same symbol that had appeared above me the day Poseidon had claimed me as his daughter.
There was a moment of awed silence.
Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When I'd been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt. But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"
Everybody laughed except my friends.
Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were.
But I got it.
I had a new cabin mate.