Mask Of Joy

Chapter 7

Piper's POV

Piper soon realized that Annabeth didn't have her heart in the tour.

She showed Piper around all the base, or at least all the levels she could as some needed security clearance that Piper didn't have. Annabeth told Piper all the stuff the base offered like archery, the lava wall, different types of fighting, but she didn't have any excitement in her voice, she seemed to be thinking of other things.

Annabeth explained to Piper how the base was a safe haven to train 'half-bloods' against the terrorist group TITAN that mean them harm. Normally kids stayed here until they knew how to defend themselves and get to go out with a new name, a new identity to be safe.

Piper had a million questions bubbled in her head, but because of Annabeth's mood, she decided to keep quiet.

At one point, Piper felt quite claustrophobic and needed air, so Annabeth led her to the surface on Liberty Island where they had a beautiful view of the sunset reflecting on the Hudson River and New York City skyline to the side.

"The island is off limits to the civilians," Annabeth said as she leaned against the railing next to Piper. "So, we have the island all for ourselves. For now."

"You said we were half-bloods," Piper said. "So my Mom is one of those self-proclaimed gods… right?"

Annabeth nodded. "You're taking this awfully calmly."

Piper shrugged. "It just makes sense. The arguments I'd had with my father about why there were no photos of mom in the house, and why he would never tell me exactly how or why my mom left us." She took a shaky breath. "And after this morning, it's a little easier to believe. So who's my mom?"

"We should know soon," Annabeth reassured her. "You're seventeen, right? You're supposed to be claimed when you're thirteen. That was the deal."

"The deal?" Piper asked.

"After what happened in New York two years ago with the invasion," Annabeth said. "They made a promise not to ignore their children anymore, to claim them by the time they turn thirteen, so that what happened never happens again. Sometimes it takes a little longer, their technology isn't always perfect even though it's way ahead of ours, but you saw how Leo was claimed once he got here. Should happen for you soon. Tonight at the campfire, I bet we'll get a sign."

Piper wondered if she'd have a big flaming hammer over her head, or with her luck, something even more embarrassing. A flaming wombat, maybe. Whoever her mother was, Piper had no reason to think she'd be proud to claim a kleptomaniac daughter with massive problems.

"Why thirteen?"

"To have enough time to train you," Annabeth answered. "That's why we send protectors into the schools to find you guys, get you to camp before it's too late."

"Like Coach Hedge?"

Annabeth nodded. "He's job is finding half-bloods, protecting them, bringing them in when the time is right."

She didn't know the coach much as they had only just met this morning, but she hoped he was still alive.

"It'll be okay," Annabeth promised. "You have friends here. We've all been through a lot of weird stuff. We know what you're going through."

I doubt about that, Piper thought. "I've been kicked out of five different schools the past five years," she said. "My dad's running out of places to put me."

"Only five?" Annabeth didn't sound like she was teasing. "Piper, we've all been labelled troublemakers. I ran away from home when I was seven."

"Seriously?"

"Oh, yeah. Most of us are diagnosed with attention deficit disorder or dyslexia, or both—"

"Leo's ADHD," Piper said.

"Right. It's because we're hardwired for battle. Restless, impulsive—we don't fit in with regular kids. You should hear how much trouble Percy—" Her face darkened. "Anyway, half-bloods get a bad rep. How'd you get in trouble?"

Usually when someone asked that question, Piper started a fight, or changed the subject, or caused some kind of distraction. But for some reason she found herself telling the truth.

"I steal stuff," she said. "Well, not really steal …"

"I don't recall your family being poor."

Piper laughed bitterly. "Not even. I did it … I don't know why. For attention, I guess. My dad never had time for me unless I got in trouble."

Annabeth nodded. "I can relate. But you said you didn't really steal? What do you mean?"

"Well … nobody ever believes me. The police, teachers—even the people I took stuff from: they're so embarrassed, they'll deny what happened. But the truth is, I don't steal anything. I just ask people for things. And they give me stuff. Even a BMW convertible. I just asked. And the dealer said, 'Sure. Take it.' Later, he realized what he'd done, I guess. Then the police came after me."

Piper waited. She was used to people calling her a liar, but when she looked up, Annabeth just nodded. "Interesting. If your dad were the 'god', I'd say you're a child of Mercury, the head of black-market. He can be pretty convincing. But your dad is 'mortal'…"

"Very," Piper agreed.

Annabeth shook her head, apparently mystified. "I don't know, then. With luck, your mom will claim you tonight."

Piper sighed. So much has happened in such a short amount of time. It's like she just entered a whole new world. A dangerous world.

"Come on," Annabeth said at last. "You'll get your answers. But for now, we need to get you settled. You ready to go back down?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'm ready."

XxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTIMELAPSExxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxX

They walked out the circular elevator, to the right a group of campers was playing basketball. They were incredible shots. Nothing bounced off the rim. Three-pointers went in automatically.

"Apollo's cabin," Annabeth explained. "Bunch of show offs with missile weapons—arrows, basketballs."

They walked down the hall, past a central fire pit, where two guys were hacking at each other with swords. "Real blades?" Piper noted. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"That's sort of the point," Annabeth said. "Uh, sorry. Bad pun. That's my cabin over there. Number Six."

She nodded to a grey building with a carved owl over the door. Through the open doorway, Piper could see bookshelves, weapon displays, and one of those computerized SMART Boards they have in classrooms. Two girls were drawing a map that looked like a battle diagram.

"Speaking of blades," Annabeth said, "come here."

She led Piper around to the side of the cabin to a big metal shed that looked like it was meant for gardening tools. Annabeth unlocked it, and inside were not gardening tools, unless you wanted to make war on your tomato plants. The shed was lined with all sorts of weapons—from swords to spears to clubs like Coach Hedge's.

"Every half-blood needs a weapon," Annabeth said. "Vulcan makes the best, but we have a pretty good selection, too. Minerva's all about strategy—matching the right weapon to the right person. Let's see …"

Piper didn't feel much like shopping for deadly objects, but she knew Annabeth was trying to do something nice for her. Annabeth handed her a massive sword, which Piper could hardly lift.

"No," they both said at once.

Annabeth rummaged a little farther in the shed and brought out something else. "A shotgun?" Piper asked. "Mossberg 500."

Annabeth checked the pump action like it was no big deal.

"Um, I don't think that's my style," Piper said.

"Mmm, yeah," Annabeth agreed. "Too flashy."

She put the shotgun back and started poking through a rack of crossbows when something in the corner of the shed caught Piper's eye.

"What is that?" she said. "A knife?"

Annabeth dug it out and blew the dust off the scabbard. It looked like it hadn't seen the light of day in centuries.

"I don't know, Piper." Annabeth sounded uneasy. "I don't think you want this one. Swords are usually better."

"You use a knife." Piper pointed to the one strapped to Annabeth's belt.

"Yeah, but …" Annabeth shrugged. "Well, take a look if you want."

The sheath was worn black leather, bound in bronze. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy. The polished wood handle fit beautifully in Piper's hand. When she unsheathed it, she found a triangular blade eighteen inches long—bronze gleaming like it had been polished yesterday. The edges were deadly sharp. Her reflection in the blade caught her by surprise. She looked older, more serious, not as scared as she felt.

"It suits you," Annabeth admitted. "That kind of blade is called a parazonium. It was mostly ceremonial, carried by high-ranking officers in the Greek armies. It showed you were a person of power and wealth, but in a fight, it could protect you just fine."

"I like it," Piper said. "Why didn't you think it was right?"

Annabeth exhaled. "That blade has a long story. Most people would be afraid to claim it. Its first owner … well, things didn't turn out too well for her. Her name was Helen."

Piper let that sink in. "Wait, you mean the Helen? Helen of Troy?"

Annabeth nodded.

Suddenly Piper felt like she should be handling the dagger with surgical gloves. "And it's just sitting in your tool shed?"

"We're surrounded by Ancient Greek stuff," Annabeth said. "This isn't a museum. Weapons like that—they're meant to be used. They're our heritage as half-bloods. That was a wedding present from Menelaus, Helen's first husband. She named the dagger Katoptris."

"Meaning?"

"Mirror," Annabeth said. "Looking glass. Probably because that's the only thing Helen used it for. I don't think it's ever seen battle."

Piper looked at the blade again. For a moment, her own image stared up at her, but then the reflection changed. She saw flames, and a grotesque face like something carved from bedrock. She heard the same laughter as in her dream. She saw her dad in chains, tied to a post in front of a roaring bonfire. She dropped the blade.

"Piper?" Annabeth shouted to the Apollo kids on the court, "Medic! I need some help over here!"

"No, it's—it's okay," Piper managed.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I just …" She had to control herself. With trembling fingers, she picked up the dagger. "I just got overwhelmed. So much happening today. But … I want to keep the dagger, if that's okay."

Annabeth hesitated. Then she waved off the Apollo kids. "Okay, if you're sure. You turned really pale, there. I thought you were having a seizure or something."

"I'm fine," Piper promised, though her heart was still racing. "Is there … um, a phone at camp? Can I call my dad?"

Annabeth's grey eyes were almost as unnerving as the dagger blade. She seemed to be calculating a million possibilities, trying to read Piper's thoughts.

"Sure," she handed Piper her cell phone.

Piper took it gratefully, trying not to let her hands shake. She stepped away from Annabeth and turned to face the commons area. She called her dad's private line, even though she knew what would happen. Voice mail. She'd been trying for three days, ever since the dream. Wilderness School only allowed phone privileges once a day, but she'd called every evening, and gotten nowhere. Reluctantly she dialled the other number. Her dad's personal assistant answered immediately.

"Mr. McLean's office."

"Jane," Piper said, gritting her teeth. "Where's my dad?"

Jane was silent for a moment, probably wondering if she could get away with hanging up. "Piper, I thought you weren't supposed to call from school."

"Maybe I'm not at school," Piper said. "Maybe I ran away to live among the woodland creatures."

"Mmm." Jane didn't sound concerned. "Well, I'll tell him you called."

"Where is he?"

"Out."

"You don't know, do you?" Piper lowered her voice, hoping Annabeth was too nice to eavesdrop. "When are you going to call the police, Jane? He could be in trouble."

"Piper, we are not going to turn this into a media circus. I'm sure he's fine. He does take off occasionally. He always comes back."

"So it's true. You don't know—"

"I have to go, Piper," Jane snapped. "Enjoy school."

The line went dead. Piper cursed. She walked back to Annabeth and handed her the phone.

"No luck?" Annabeth asked.

Piper didn't answer. She didn't trust herself not to start crying. Annabeth glanced at the phone display and hesitated.

"What does your dad do?"

"He's got a degree in the arts," Piper said automatically. "He's a Cherokee artist."

Her standard response. Not a lie, just not the whole truth. Most people, when they heard that, figured her dad sold Indian souvenirs at a roadside stand on a reservation. Sitting Bull bobble-heads, wampum necklaces, Big Chief tablets—that kind of thing.

"Oh." Annabeth didn't look convinced, but she put the phone away. "You feeling okay? Want to keep going?"

Piper fastened her new dagger to her belt and promised herself that later, when she was alone, she'd figure out how it worked.

"Sure," she said. "I want to see everything."

All the cabins were cool, but none of them struck Piper as hers. No burning signs—wombats or otherwise—appeared over her head. Cabin Eight was entirely silver and glowed like moonlight.

They passed the next cabin, Number Ten, which was decorated like a Barbie house with lace curtains, a pink door, and potted carnations in the windows. They walked by the doorway, and the smell of perfume almost made Piper gag.

"Gah, is that where supermodels go to die?"

Annabeth smirked. "Venus' cabin. The 'Goddess of love'. Drew is the head counsellor."

"Figures," Piper grumbled.

"They're not all bad," Annabeth said. "The last head counsellor we had was great."

"What happened to her?"

Annabeth's expression darkened. "We should keep moving."

They looked at the other cabins, but Piper just got more depressed. She wondered if she could be the daughter of Ceres, the 'farming goddess'. Then again, Piper killed every plant she ever touched. Minerva was cool. Or maybe Trivia, the 'magic goddess'. But it didn't really matter. Even here, where everyone was supposed to find a lost parent, she knew she would still end up the unwanted kid. She was not looking forward to the campfire tonight.

"We started with the Great Council 'gods'," Annabeth explained. "Male gods on the left, female on the right. Then last year, we added a whole bunch of new cabins for the other gods who didn't have thrones on Olympus—"

"What are the two big ones on the end?" Piper asked.

Annabeth frowned. "Jupiter and Juno. King and queen of the Great Council."

Piper headed that way, and Annabeth followed, though she didn't act very excited. The Jupiter cabin reminded Piper of a bank. It was white marble with big columns out front and polished bronze doors emblazoned with lightning bolts.

Juno's cabin was smaller but done in the same style, except the doors were carved with peacock feather designs, shimmering in different colours. Unlike the other cabins, which were all noisy and open and full of activity, the Jupiter and Juno cabins looked closed and silent.

"Are they empty?" Piper asked.

Annabeth nodded. "Jupiter went a long time without having any children. Well, mostly. Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, the eldest brothers among the Great Council —they're called the Big Three.

"And Juno?" Piper looked at the peacock-decorated doors. The cabin bothered her, though she wasn't sure why.

"'Goddess of marriage'." Annabeth's tone was carefully controlled, like she was trying to avoid cursing. "She doesn't have kids with anyone but Jupiter. So, yeah, no half-bloods. The cabin's just honorary."

"You don't like her," Piper noticed.

"We have history," Annabeth admitted. "It's probably better I don't talk about it. I've got nothing good to say about Juno right now."

Piper looked down the base of the doors. "So who goes in here?"

"No one. The cabin is just honorary, like I said. No one goes in."

"Someone does." Piper pointed at a footprint on the dusty threshold. On instinct, she pushed the doors and they swung open easily.

Annabeth stepped back. "Um, Piper, I don't think we should—"

"We're supposed to do dangerous stuff, right?" And Piper walked inside. Juno's cabin was not someplace Piper would want to live. It was as cold as a freezer, with a circle of white columns around a central statue of the goddess, ten feet tall, seated on a throne in flowing golden robes. It was brightly painted so it looked almost human—except huge. Juno's piercing eyes seemed to follow Piper.

At the goddess's feet, a fire burned in a bronze brazier. Piper wondered who tended it if the cabin was always empty. A stone hawk sat on Juno's shoulder, and in her hand was a staff topped with a lotus flower. The goddess's hair was done in black plaits. Her face smiled, but the eyes were cold and calculating, as if she were saying: Mother knows best. Now don't cross me or I will have to step on you.

There was nothing else in the cabin—no beds, no furniture, no bathroom, no windows, nothing that anyone could actually use to live. For a goddess of home and marriage, Juno's place reminded Piper of a tomb. No, this wasn't her mom. At least Piper was sure of that. She wasn't exactly why she entered but—

She froze. They weren't alone. Behind the statue, at a little altar in the back, stood a figure covered in a black shawl. Only her hands were visible, palms up. She seemed to be chanting something.

Annabeth gasped. "R.E.D.?"

The figure turned. She dropped her shawl, and Piper's eyes widened. It was a robot with a humanoid figure. It was made of bronze. The had two blue eyes and a straight line for the mouth. It was also more of a 'she' as the body had the shape of that of a woman's.

"Hey!" She ran to give Annabeth a hug. "I'm so sorry! I came as fast as I could."

They talked for a few minutes about Annabeth's family and how there was no news, et cetera, until finally Annabeth remembered Piper, who was standing there feeling uncomfortable.

"I'm being rude," Annabeth apologized. "R.E.D., this is Piper, one of the half-bloods we rescued today. Piper, this is R.E.D., our oracle."

"Your friend is a robot?" Piper asked.

"An A.I." Annabeth said.

R.E.D.'s mouth opened to show rows of teeth. Piper guessed she was grinning. "That's me."

"So you're an oracle?" Piper asked. "You can tell the future?"

"More like the future mugs me from time to time," R.E.D. said. "I speak prophecies. I kind of get hijacked every once in a while and speaks important stuff that doesn't make any sense to anybody. But yeah, the prophecies tell the future."

"Oh." Piper shifted from foot to foot. "That's cool."

R.E.D. laughed. "Don't worry. Everybody finds it a little creepy. Even me. But usually I'm harmless."

"Um what are you …" Piper waved her hand around the room. R.E.D.'s smile faded. She glanced at Annabeth, then back at Piper.

"Just a hunch. Something about this cabin. I've learned to follow my hunches, especially the last month, since the 'gods' went silent."

"Went silent?" Piper asked.

R.E.D.'s metallic eyebrows came down in a frown at Annabeth. "You haven't told her yet?"

"I was getting to that," Annabeth said. "Piper, for the last month … well, it's normal for the 'gods' not to talk to their children very much, but usually we can count on some messages now and then. Some of us can even visit Olympus. I spent practically all semester at the Empire State Building."

"Excuse me?"

"The entrance to Mount Olympus these days."

"Oh," Piper said. "Sure, why not?"

"Annabeth was redesigning Olympus after it was damaged in the Titan War," R.E.D. explained. "She's an amazing architect. You should see the salad bar—"

"Anyway," Annabeth said, "starting about a month ago, Olympus fell silent. The entrance closed, and no one could get in. Nobody knows why. It's like the 'gods' have sealed themselves off. Even my mom won't answer me and our camp director, Dionysus, was recalled.

"Half-bloods still get claimed, but nothing else. No messages. No visits. No sign the 'gods' are even listening. It's like something has happened —something really bad."

"And Reyna showed up at Jason's doorstep," Piper supplied.

"Who's Jason?" R.E.D. asked.

"My friend. But Annabeth, you said Juno sent you a message."

"Right," Annabeth said. "The first communication from a 'god' in a month, and it's Juno, the least helpful goddess, and she contacts me, her least favourite half-blood and it doesn't make sense. It's encrypted. I was hoping R.E.D. could read it, but no luck so far."

"Something bad is happening," R.E.D. agreed.

Before she could continue, R.E.D.'s body stiffened. Her eyes began to glow with a greenish light, and she grabbed Piper by the shoulders. Piper tried to back away, but R.E.D.'s hands were like steel clamps.

Free me, she said. But it wasn't R.E.D.'s voice. It sounded like an old woman, speaking from somewhere far away, down a long, echoing pipe. Free me, Piper McLean, or the earth shall swallow us. It must be by the solstice.

The room started spinning. Annabeth tried to separate Piper from R.E.D., but it was no use. Green smoke enveloped them, and Piper was no longer sure if she was awake or dreaming. The giant statue of the goddess seemed to rise from its throne. It leaned over Piper, its eyes boring into her. The statue's mouth opened, its breath like horribly thick perfume. It spoke in the same echoing voice: Our enemies stir. The fiery one is only the first. Bow to his will, and their king shall rise, dooming us all. FREE ME!

Piper's knees buckled, and everything went black.