Chapter 4

Hi again…been writing like mad to get this finished. More thanks to my amazing beta; Anna145! You should all go and read her stories…they are original and brilliant.

A shout out to God1801, the first person to add my story to their favourites! Thank you for reviewing and thanks for the compliments; I hate all the other Mary-Sues that surround this idea. And I think that Percy, being a big, important Prophecy child would be more gifted than most so I try to make Andy's powers realistic. And I'm sorry she will be going to camp half-blood in the next few chapters but will not meet Percy for a while because, as we know, he's unconscious somewhere, waiting to be sent to the Roman camp.

Thanks also to FoREVer (liking the Avenged Sevenfold there!) my other reviewer. And also thanks go to OfCourseImHuman and SugarIsHEALTHY for adding me to favourites.

Did you know that only 6% of my readers review? *gasp* It's shocking! Please R&R! Hope you enjoy the chapter! … also see how I made a conscious effort to sound American…dollars and sidewalk! IMPRESSIVE MUCH?

'Dad?' I gave an exclamation of surprise. It had been over six years since his last proper visit. This wasn't surprising, since they were always few and far between. I had only seen him three times before.

The first time was when I was five. Mother and David, her husband, were in Prague for their honeymoon. They had left me with my nanny, Tara. I had liked Tara, she was nicer than most.

The two-chime bell rang across the house. Ding-Dong. My feet brushed the tiles as I swung my legs. I was sat at the kitchen table, scrawling over a colouring book. I hopped down from my stool and ran to the front door. I had to stand on tip-toe in order to reach the latch.

In the doorway stood a tall, tanned man with black messy hair. His dark green eyes seemed familiar and his wide lips were turned up at the edges. He gave off the soft scent of the sea. I had only been to the beach once before but I still remembered that salty smell.

'Andromeda, what've I told you about opening the door? You're supposed to wait for me!' Tara scolded as she came up behind me. Her hair was as bright as carrots and her eyes were the colour of mossy trees. She gave a jolt when she looked at the man. Something about him had rendered her temporarily speechless. 'Ca-Can I help you?'

The man simply smiled and said, 'I was wondering if I might have a word with Andromeda?'

Tara seemed to regain some composure. 'And who are you, can I ask?'

His eyes twinkled with amusement. 'I am Andromeda's father.'

Dad had talked to me for almost four hours. He told me about Olympus and the different gods; the Olympians and the minor gods. He told me about Prophecies, monsters, nymphs, naiads, the underworld, demigods, IMs, drachmas, he had told me everything. I absorbed all this information with wide, eager eyes. He then gave me my two knives and left abruptly. Tara told mother when she got back three days later. After a lot of yelling, mother fired Tara, and I never saw her again. I got a new nanny, and life moved on.

The next time he visited I was seven. I had had enough from David and was about to run away.

'Andromeda! Come back down here at once and apologise to your father!' Mother ordered.

'He's not my father! And he is a bellend!' I screeched back down the stairs before slamming my bedroom door. I grabbed my nike rucksack from under the bed and started to shove things at random into it: some clothes, my toothbrush, my knives, a torch and the wad of cash I had stolen off David a while ago.

My bedroom door swung open. Behind it stood Suzanne Jones, my mother. Her mahogany hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her lip-stick red lips were pursed. 'I demand that you apologise to your father at once for using such vile language!'

I swung the bag over my shoulder and stomped over to the door, scowling up at her. 'I am not going to apologise. Now move!'

'Andromeda, stop this silliness at once!'

I shoved her out of my way and marched down the hallway. I could hear her heels clipping behind me.

'Put that bag down at once and apologise for your rudeness.' Her voice was shrill and panicked.

I gritted my teeth and leaped down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. I was almost at the front door when something grabbed my arm. I swung round wildly like the cornered animal I was. His hand was clasped around my wrist; I could feel his nails digging in to my skin. I might've cried if I was the sort of girl who cried.

'Go back upstairs and apologise to your mother this instant.' David snarled,

I struggled to rip my hand away but his grip was like iron. 'I am leaving. NOW LET ME GO!' I thrust my knee upwards into his privates and he fell to the ground with a grunt.

He was still groaning as I leaped over him and shot off down the hall way. I got to the door, reaching to unlatch it. I stopped in the empty door frame. The autumn wind blew cool air into the house.

Surprisingly, David was back on his feet and not even making a move to stop me. 'Fine then, leave. I don't care and nor does she.' He nodded towards the top of the stairs where my mother stood, clearly torn between yelling to stop me and yelling to scold me for letting leaves into the house. 'You've brought nothing but trouble to this household.' He narrowed his cold, unfeeling eyes.

I felt tears sting the back of my eyes but I forced them back before turning around, only to find a figure blocking my way. 'Dad?'

Dad had spoken to me in the kitchen while mother and David argued outside: David wanted me gone, mother was reluctant. Dad had managed to convince me out of running away by telling me about camp half-blood. When I had asked why I couldn't go there immediately he had simply replied. 'You can't go there yet. There is a prophecy that might concern another child of mine…' My eyes widened at this. '…and if you go now you could be in grave danger because of this prophecy.'

The key word was yet. Yet painted a wonderful picture of the near-future where everything would be perfect. So I stayed and waited for that picture to become a reality.

The third and last time I had seen him, I didn't count as a real visit because he hadn't even spoken to me, and I had only even seen him for a spilt second. It was on the twentieth of October; my eleventh birthday. And I'd officially had enough. Mother was coming out of her messy divorce and not taking it well - she was spending most days in her room, curtains closed, with some sort of liquor bottle. When I ran away that time I had actually made it out the house and all the way to a small coffee place on 57th.

I shivered. It was an especially cold October and the open window next to me was letting in a strong gale. I stood and forced it shut before sinking back into my seat. I had just run away. This thought crowded my mind; it was a single defining thought that changed everything.

No longer did I have to worry about what new lie to tell my English teacher about why I hadn't handed my homework in. Now my worries were more basic: food, water, a place to stay. It was almost dark and I had only fifty bucks in my bag and nowhere to stay.

The waitress sauntered over to my table and droned in a flat tone, 'Welcome to the Malabar Café. Our specials include the Peach Frosted Smoothie and the Hot Ginger Syrup. What can I get you?' It was clear that she couldn't care less about the specials.

'Umm, I'll just have a hot chocolate please.' The waitress eyed my nike bag that lay next to me before shrugging and walking off towards the bar.

I looked around the café. It was mainly orange and brown and had small wooden tables spread evenly around it. There was only one other person in there; a tall man wearing a dark trench coat and a low, black hat who sat in the plush chairs on the other side - next the door.

He didn't seem to be doing anything, I couldn't see his face so I couldn't be sure, but he was just sitting there, looking down at his lap. He wasn't eating or reading the menu, just sitting there. The waitress was taking no notice of him, every time she faced in his direction her eyes would just skip over his chair, almost as if she couldn't see him.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. His presence made me nervous; I didn't think that he was a monster but then again – who was to say that he wasn't?

The waitress returned with my hot chocolate. 'Two ninety five. Please.' She was fiddling with her phone. I thoroughly doubted that she would've noticed if I had just walked right past her and left.

I rummaged in my pocket, counted out three dollars and placed them in her hand. She looked up at me scornfully like 'Where's-my-tip-you-cheapskate?' She then placed my hot chocolate roughly on the table so that some slopped over the sides before stalking off.

I looked down at it distastefully. It wasn't hot chocolate, rather lukewarm milk with mushy lumps of coco powder floating on top.

I had been watching the man out of the corner of my eye that whole time. Up until that point he hadn't moved. But as I pushed my drink away he looked up, grinning sinisterly. He had a hawkish face and different coloured eyes: one blue and one brown. But that wasn't the most startling thing about him; his teeth were gleaming white and filed to an unnatural point.

My heart started like a race horse out of the stands and I quickly looked in the other direction, hoping that he hadn't realise that I had seen; this would've bought me a couple of seconds at least.

The first thing that came to mind was escape: I could take the door, but that meant walking past him or I could squeeze out of the window. He got up slowly and started to walk calmly towards me. Right it was window time. I stood up and wrenched the window open. I could easily fit through it height-wise, but even if I went through side ways it would be a tight fit.

I shoved my bag through first; it hit the sidewalk with a thump. The man was still advancing quite casually, taking his time. I gripped the frame and pulled myself up, trying to edge through sideways. The man started to speed up. I was almost through, before my head got stuck.

It would have been funny if it wasn't so terrifying. The man had now shed his hat and coat, just dropping them on the floor and revealing a thinning head of grey hair and a pin-striped suit, he was now almost at the window, smiling maliciously.

Panic gripped my heart and I struggled harder against the frame; my head wouldn't budge. I reached my hand over my head, got a firm grip, counted to three. And then brutally shoved my head through the tight frame, I could feel the skin scraping off my scalp, leaving chunks of hair behind

I scooped up my bag and started to run down the street. I turned back to see if he was following me. He was still standing behind the open window, loud growls ripping through his body. He grew larger, his suit ripping off him, being replaced by the orange hair of a lion. His red, spiked tail swiped dangerously behind him. Instead of trying to creep through the window like I had to, he just charged through the wall, sending rubble flying everywhere. I could see the waitress cowering behind a chair by the door.

My sneakers pounded against the tarmac, I could hear the galloping paws behind me, claws scraping on the concrete.

Other pedestrians protested as I shoved them out of my way. I had no idea where I was headed, but there was something with in me that screamed 'Left! Go left!' I veered around the corner.

I could see the thing chasing me in the shop windows. It still had the head of a man but the mutated body of a lion. It was a manticore, I remembered that much from my Classical Civilization lessons at school. There was something about them I was forgetting; an ability or weapon. It was there, in my brain, just slightly out of reach. What was it?

I turned left again, like the nudging voice in my head told me to, into an alley way. It was a dead end. I spun around, but the manticore had already prowled in. It was so huge that he took up the entire width of the alley.

I slowly backed away from the beast, until my back hit a wall. I was completely trapped.

'Wh-What do you want?' I forced the words out of my mouth.

'You are coming with me, Andromeda Jones.' The thing had a heavy French accent and pronounced its Js like in Jacque.

I narrowed my eyes. Out of all the things that made me mad, use of my full name was definitely in the top five. 'Fat chance of that happening.' I spat.

It snarled. 'You should feel honoured, my girl. You will have the opportunity to join a great army.'

'I'll tell you where you can stick your "great army"-'

It gave a great, bellowing roar, I could feel the vibrations in the ground. 'Insolent child! You shall feel the repercussions of your unruly mouth!' Its tail whipped forwards and a large black spike shot out, embedding itself in my shoulder.

I gave a strangled gasp. The dagger-like object had sliced right through my skin and was now lodged in my body. I shakily brought my hand to my shoulder. It came back stained with blood. Crimson red soaked my shirt. I crumpled to the ground; violent spasms wracking throughout my body. My vision was blurring, there had to have been something else on that spike; poison.

'The package is ready to deliver.' The figure loomed above me; it was speaking into something in its hand. I gave a sorrowful groan of pain. 'Soon, you will serve a greater purpose, daughter of Poseid-' The manticore stopped mid-sentence, eyes bulging. Its humanoid paws clutched at its throat. It choked, spluttering something wet onto me face: sea water.

I snapped awake. I could still feel the hole in my shoulder; painfully so. But I was conscious.

The manticore collapsed, sea water was pooling out of its mouth creating a puddle on the ground. It shuddered once and then was still, before dissolving into a haze of monster ash.

I rolled over, hugging my mangled shoulder; my breathing was harsh and shallow. In the water I could see the reflection of myself – my face was splattered with blood. Another face materialized next to mine; tanned with black hair and brilliant sea green eyes made of crashing waves. It was contorted by the ripples but I could recognise it easily: Dad.

I spun over, expecting to see my father, but instead finding a girl who looked about fifteen, but her face was too sharp and defined to be that young. She had smooth, dirty blonde hair and golden brown eyes that were the colour of syrup on burnt pancakes. 'Hi. What's your name?' She said in a casual voice as if we were meeting in a supermarket. Not with me lying in a pool of blood and sea water.

I didn't know it at that time but that girl was my to-be-best-friend, Jenna. She took me to her Mum's house, fixed me up and managed to convince me to tell her everything…about who I was, why I wasn't at camp; my whole life story.

We became friends after that, I'm not sure how it happened, we just started to do everything together. I helped her pick out an apartment, a University: I spent uncountable numbers of nights helping her cram for her end of semester exams. I was unimaginably grateful to Dad for bringing us together.

After not having seen him for about half my life I had to admit that I had expected something a bit more tactful than him staring at me with shock and saying the single most clichéd thing for a long-time-no-see-relative to say. 'Andromeda! You've grown so much since I last saw you!'