Chapter Four: Peleus and I Have a Bad Start

We took a taxi back to my penthouse. I was silent the entire way, turning over all Nico had explained in my mind. It wasn't realistic, yeah. But it fit.

I handed over some cash and we climbed out. We went into the well-kept lobby. White-and-gold marble was everywhere. Cushy red chairs were grouped around small empty fireplaces. It was summer, after all.

We crossed over to the elevators. I pressed level 48 and the button lit up.

I walked over to our front door and fished out my key, turning it in the lock. The house was quiet.

"Mom?" I called. "Mom? I'm home."

No answer. I was dimly aware of Nico stepping inside behind me. I ran into the kitchen, dropping my backpack and gasping at what I saw.

My mom. On the ground, lying on her back, apparently unconscious. The huge picture window had shattered, leaving glass shards littering the grounds like fallen stars. I could hear NYC's mid-afternoon din through the hole—cars honking, voices shouting, walking feet.

"Mom!" I ran over, slipping a little on the glass, and knelt by her side. A thin cut traced across her forehead, sticky and red. Her hair was soaked with blood.

"MOM!" I half-sobbed, shaking her gently.

"Mia! Nico! What in the world—"

My stepfather stood behind Nico, gaping at the damage. He pushed past my best friend, dropping his briefcase, and knelt beside me. He lifted her up and told me to call 911.

Forty-eight hours later, we were in a taxicab heading for Camp Half-Blood, Nico sitting quietly at my side. I mulled over what had happened in the last two days.

After I'd called the police and the paramedics, they pulled up in front of our penthouse and laid my mom on a stretcher. I accompanied my mom to the hospital, while my dad drove Nico. We waited forever. Finally, we were told that my mom wasn't hurt, that she just had a moderate concussion, a few scratches and a couple big bruises. She had broken out of unconsciousness and we were allowed to see her.

"It came for me," my mom whispered when my dad excused himself to take a call. Nico and I had told her all about what I discovered. Oddly, she seemed like she already knew about all this Greek-gods-are-real phenomenon.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"A woman all dressed in red and black. She had the loudest scream ever. When she shouted, I…everything blacked out. Her voice shattered the big glass. It was so…so mind-breaking."

I glanced surreptiously at Nico. "Do you know what she's talking about? Maybe a kind of demon?"

His face was grim. "Unfortunately. Alala is a minor goddess, the Greek personification of the war cry. She's also one of Ares (god of war)'s attendants. Technically she's the daughter of Polemos, one of those sub-minor gods. You're lucky you didn't go deaf, Mrs. Walters."

"I still feel like it, though," she replied, gingerly touching one of her ears.

"You're okay, now, Mom," I said, and hugged her.

She fixed me with a stare. "You must go to this camp, Mia. It's time you learned how to survive. Y-y-your dad…" I didn't need for her to tell me she was talking about my real dad "…he would have wanted…"

"What would I have wanted?" My stepdad walked in, shoving his iPhone into his suit pocket.

I tried to come up with something to say. Obviously he didn't know about the secret world of demigods. Nico was working his jaw but nothing came out. In the end, it was my mom who saved us.

"For Mia to go to a camp. With Nico," she told him. "It will be very educational, and Mia would love to go. Right, darling?"

"Um, yeah! I'd just love to!" I stammered.

"Well…if it's okay with you and your mother…I couldn't say no!" He forced a smile. "When do you leave?"

"The day after tomorrow is the, er, start of camp," Nico volunteered.

"I'll have my driver drop you off," he told us.

Nico was shaking his head hard behind my dad's back. Clearly, he thought it would be horrible if my dad knew where we were going. "Um, really Dad, thanks, but we can take a taxi."

"OK." He clearly wasn't okay with that.

"Really, Dad, we'll be fine." I reassured him, but I wasn't sure I'd want to skip out on a month long trip around the Caribbean for this.

The taxicab pulled to an abrupt stop. I handed the dubious driver forty bucks and we stepped out, pulling our bags out of the car. Nico ended up lugging two of mine, because unlike him I had packed four suitcases and a handcarry, a wealth of clothes compared to his one black travel bag.

"What…do you…pack…in…here?" he wheezed, only half-teasingly. "Forty-tons of tank tops and what do you call them—espadrilles?"

I heaved my stuff up to the crest of the hill behind Nico. He had dropped the stuff he was carrying and was hurrying toward a copper-colored dragon, snoozing in the hot sun (sweat was already gathering on my forehead). I dropped my bags and surged backward, letting out a half scream.

"Aaaaahhhhh!" The dragon blinked open its eyes.

"Mia, calm down," he reassured me. "Peleus guards the Golden Fleece." he explained, stopping what he was doing (scratching the dragon's chin) momentarily. The dragon grunted.

"Okay, here," he grumbled, returning to his task. Meanwhile, I was walking forward to the glittering mass of gold sheepskin dangling from the lowest bough of a huge pine tree. Peleus glanced up, alert as I stretched out my arm to touch it. I immediately backed away.

"It's okay, Peely," Nico said. "She's a friend." The dragon yawned and closed its eyes.

"'bye, Peely," Nico waved as he started pulling the assigned bags down the hill. I started after him, but kept on glancing behind me. For some reason, I wasn't about to let a dragon be unattended at my back.