A / B: Hello! Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns PJO, so he is probably not ... well, me.


9

I looked up and blanched. I didn't know who or what I expected the voice to belong to, but it definitely wasn't this. A boy of about seventeen was standing on the deck, leaning lazily on the railing. He had curly coal black hair, and deep set obsidian eyes that seemed to say, you're dead. His skin was ghost pale, and his features seemed strange, but I could figure out what exactly it was. He was good looking, I guess, if I didn't despise him so much. He wore black jeans, a black sweater and black sneakers. He looked a bit like on old black and white photograph.

"Well, your pets were trying to kill me. Self-defence," I called back.

"Oh, they would like to kill you, I'm sure, but I wouldn't let them. You are too valuable," the boy said, and I noticed that he had a lilting southern accent, something that I had initially taking for plain creepiness.

He waved a lazy hand at the Stylaens, and they parted, hissing. I looked up the metal ramp, my eyes narrowed. I didn't want to do what the boy wanted, but the ramp was the only way on to the ship, and Dad was in there somewhere. The ramp was dangerously thin, and I saw that it had caved in where the Stylaens had stood. I pulled my jumper sleeves further over my hands, shivering slightly. It was more and more freezing the closer to the boat I was. I clamped my teeth shut to stop them chattering.

At the top of the ramp, I was face to face with the boy. His breath was annoyingly minty, and he tapped his foot absentmindedly.

"Who are you?" I demanded fiercely.

The boy sighed dramatically. "Do I have to tell you?" Then he stopped himself. "Actually yes, I do. You are incredibly stubborn."

I was slightly taken a back. How would he know that I was more stubborn than a block of wood?

"Stalker," I muttered under my breath.

He laughed, but it wasn't funny. "My name is Nagrata. Son of Hecate."

I was fuming. Did he have to be so annoying? Hecate made sense though, with the magic nightmare thing.

"Well, you definitely haven't inherited her looks," I snapped.

"Really?" said Nagrata, raising his eyebrows. "A lady down the street said I looked rather charming. I believe you have quite the experience with charm."

"I don't need charm to smash your face in," I muttered.

Nagrata sniggered. "Feisty. Perhaps this will calm you down."

He made a harsh, jerking gesture and my feet began moving forward without me controlling them.

"Hey!" I protested, as my feet followed Nagrata to the rear end of the ship.

I bit my lip, furiously trying to gain control of my legs as I was whisked past the expensive modern exterior of the cruise ship. I hooked the foot of my bad leg around a passing winch full of rope in vain, but that did nothing. My body kept on moving and I heard something snap, as well as feeling the cut on my leg begin to bleed again.

Nagrata opened a door to a set of stairs leading down, me still magically trailing behind. My feet caught and dragged on the hard steps, and I dug my fingers into the wall until they bled. I stumbled as I entered the room. I looked up and my heart stopped. It was the dark chamber of which I had seen in my dreams, except the slumped figure in the corner was now all too real. My feet stopped moving and I stumbled towards my dad. His clothes were in rags, and he had lost an unnatural amount of weight. Blood pooled below his slumped figure.

"Let him go," I said, putting all the power I could muster into those three words.

Nagrata just laughed. "Don't try your pretty charmspeak against me, Maia. I am immune to your magic."

I growled, reaching for my sword, but with a flick of Nagrata's wrist the blade twisted itself into a knot and clanged to the floor. That made me angry. So I did the dumbest thing ever and ran at him. Nagrata's eyes widened slightly and he snapped his fingers, invisible ropes binding me back on to the wall. There were scratchy ropes around my chest, neck and hands. I struggled but quickly went limp as Nagrata approached, a scary expression on his face. Nagrata whipped out a small dagger and pressed it against my throat, his face inches from mine.

"If you're not going it cooperate I am going to slit your throat," he breathed, pressing down the dagger down harder until I felt a sharp pain.

"You've already done that," I noted, as warm blood trickled down my neck.

"Then expect something ten times worse," Nagrata sneered, turning away.

He looked over his shoulder and looked me right in the eye. "You look pretty when you are tied up and helpless, you know."

I was not helpless.

"Let me go and fight me you coward!" I yelled, as he turned the knob on the door.

I stretched out my leg and tried to nudge my knotted sword closer to me with my toe. Nagrata casually kicked my sword out of reach and new chains sprung up to chain my feet to the floor. He smirked and turned away.

"Why are doing this?" I asked, falling limp against the wall. I could see Dad slumped in the same way, but he wasn't moving, except for the irregular rising and falling of his chest.

Nagrata turned around. "Isn't it obvious? Revenge against the gods. What have they ever done for me and my mother?"

"And what have they ever done against you?" I said.

If he thought capturing me and my Dad would anger the gods, he was downright crazy. I doubt the gods had even turned their heads.

"Everything," Nagrata said simply. "You may have even noticed that Hecate doesn't have a spot on the Olympian Council."

"Well, your plan won't work. The gods don't care what happens to me."

There was no bitterness in my words now; I had just accepted the fact.

Nagrata looked sour. "You are wrong. You have sparked great interest. Aphrodite especially has been watching you closely."

I snorted disbelievingly. If the gods cared so much, I wouldn't be bound against the wall.

"But, seeing as the gods aren't helping me now, you could fight me. Unless, of course, you are afraid," I said, phrasing my words carefully.

Nagrata's lip curved upwards. "I am not afraid."

The ropes slithered off me and the chains on my feet broke away. I stood up and winced. I was pretty sure I had snapped my Achilles tendon in my ankle. I hated how I was always getting hurt and needed help. There was no help this time though. This time, it would finally just be me. Still, in my state, I didn't really have a chance. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

I pulled a small knife out of my pocket. My sword wouldn't really be a help when it was tied in a knot. The knife was a short range weapon, but it was better than fist fighting. Nagrata clicked his fingers, and we were on the deck of the ship, out of the dark chamber. It wasn't that much lighter up here, though, as the sun had already set and the sky was inky black. I was glad. I didn't want Dad to get caught in the cross fire.

For a moment I wondered where Nagrata's weapon was, but then I remembered; he has magic. A demigod with magic … that wasn't right. I held my knife out in my hand. Nagrata spread his hands where thick white mist, no, the Mist, gathered in his palms. Then the action started. Nagrata shot a sharp jet of white Mist at my head and I ducked, darting in and slashing his chest. It went like this for a while, Nagrata shooting white Mist, and me weaving in and out with my knife. It wasn't the most climactic of battles. I was beginning to tire. I knew I couldn't keep this up forever and it was only a matter of time before Nagrata landed a lucky shot. Nagrata seemed to be shooting his Mist lazily, as if he wasn't actually trying to hurt, which made me even madder. The stabs I was making only seemed to cause irritation, and tired out me more than it tired out him.

Suddenly a second blade appeared at my side. Leo. Great. Just great.


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