Disclaimer: After nine chapters, I think it's now pretty obvious that I don't own Percy Jackson.
This is the last chapter to submit a character to be Nico's crush if you want to. Seven days from now when I update again, the competition will be closed. So c'mon, spoil me for choice here ;)
And I awkwardly realised that in "Assistants" way back yonder Dr. Theta's lovely link didn't work… so here it is, remove the brackets and GAZE UPON HER MASTERPIECE.
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Thank you for all your reviews, they keep me updating! Not like that's a threat or anything of course…
Chasing Butterflies
As Ciara stood in the corner of a small room she glanced around, not sure of where she was. The room was punctured with windows, and there was a man strapped to a stretcher in the centre of the room. Everything was white and sanitized. The snap of latex gloves brought her to attention. A doctor had entered, and after connecting the man to an IV, Ciara realised what was happening.
"Do you have a last statement?"
Now Ciara could see ghostly faces though one of the windows, three rows crowded with people who were peering through the glass, almost… hungrily. Their eyes gleamed in the sickly fluorescent light, as one woman bit her dark red lip. Their faces were pallid through the tinted window as they sat silently, waiting.
The prisoner strapped to the table (who was obviously her next client, Daryl Banks) gazed up at the doctor's face, which was shrouded by a hospital mask. The doctor's attention was on the IV, as he prepared the solution.
"Yeah. Yeah I do. I don't know if people deserve to die, but those fuckers sure as hell didn't deserve to live."A man in the witness rows' jaw hardened as his friend put a hand on his arm. "You deserve it you bastard." He muttered, loud enough for Ciara's heightened hearing to catch. The prisoner didn't respond. The doctor changed the IV to a lethal dose of anaesthetic, then a paralysing drug, just to be sure. The prisoner slipped away without a word.
Her watch beeped as the countdown to the extraction stopped at zero. Knowing that the soul was now ready Ciara stepped forward, invisible to the doctor. The prisoner's eyes were open, and his black eyes widened at her approach. "I thought you'd have wings…" He rattled, as Ciara was shocked to silence.
She did have wings. They were right there. Coming out of her back clear as day… She could even catch a glimpse of her left one out of the corner of her eye. Strange… could mortals perhaps not see them, even on the brink of death?
Without arguing with the man she slid her hand into his chest. But the soul she brought out (smoothly, as she had gotten far better with practice) was torn and frayed, and was only a fraction the size of a normal soul. Instead of shimmering silver, this soul was a dull gray.
Ciara stared at the sorry excuse for a soul in her hand. Then at Daryl. His heart was still beating. Her sharp eyes caught the tiny rise and fall of his chest.
This doesn't make sense! She thought. Had she perhaps left a piece inside?
Dipping her hand back into his body she rummaged around, but there was nothing. Now Ciara was starting to worry. Why wasn't he dead? She'd taken out his soul! How could he possibly be alive?
Pulling out the notebook Ciara switched it on. "Erm… Help centre?" She asked, feeling more than a little moronic.
'The function you require does not exist.'
"Frequently asked questions? Multiple souls? Anything!"
The notebook was silent for a moment. "Horcrux Detection, toggled off." Ciara stared dumbfounded at the device, completely lost. "Toggle on?" She said uncertainly as the machine blinked before coming up with a more detailed version of her appointment.
Daryl Banks, 37yrs 2mnths 3dys, Miami, Florida, 6.01 pm, lethal injection
Daryl Banks (SPECIAL CASE) killed three men and two women who were doctors for daughter afflicted with cancer 12yrs ago. Daughter died of drug overdose – Daryl killed them for revenge. Daryl converted to voodoo 12yrs ago in an effort to bring daughter and wife back from the dead. One horcrux.
Horcrux location: Unknown.
Ciara gaped at the screen, trying to work out what the hell a horcrux was.
But the notebook wasn't finished, as the word 'Searching' lit up the screen in a rather aesthetically pleasing light blue.
Possible locations based on personality:
Wedding ring
Picture of family (Tucked into back pocket)
Vial of Alex Winter's (victim) blood, hanging around neck.
Ciara guessed that Daryl's possessions had been returned to him so that he could die with them, as a silver wedding band was wedged onto his ring finger. Thank the gods (or thank herself, she supposed) that they hadn't been thrown out. Pulling the ring off his finger Ciara found that the metal wouldn't give in to her fingers. It must not be the horcrux then, she reasoned.
The picture gave the same result, and it was only when Ciara picked up the vial that she felt the soul within. The piece that was coiled inside the metal and glass vial was roughly the same size as the other soul piece, however Ciara was careful not to reconnect or repair them – it was not her place to clear this man's soul of misdeeds.
As Ciara tucked the two halves into her pocket and transported away from the horrible white room, she couldn't help but be grateful that Mr. Banks had a personality that was predictable enough to easily locate his horcrux.
The thought of split souls however, was upsetting to Ciara. Why was everyone so desperate to make her job harder?
Her self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by a cold robotic voice coming from the inside pocket of her jacket where she kept the notebook. "Message from Charon: Drop off all clients that have been collected, now." Ciara stiffened. Chiron wasn't associated with her job, was he?
Another message voiced itself a moment later. "L.A, DOA Recording Studios mate. Since you're new and apparently adorable and probably don't know where I am."
Ciara's lip curled upward, but it wasn't in a smile. Focussing on the name, Ciara opened her eyes and found herself in a grey lobby. The couches crouched in the corners like sleek black panthers. The room was full of souls, and Ciara walked up to who she assumed was Charon, a man languishing behind a glossy podium.
He was striking, with light blonde buzz cut hair and skin the colour of his polished brown shoes. He was overly dressed in Ciara's opinion, particularly since a "Hello my name is Charon!" sticker was slapped onto his lapel.
"Oh. So you aren't the centaur then?" Ciara said, looking the man up and down as he did the same to her.
"Do these look like hooves to you?" He asked snidely, gesturing at his feet. His accent was odd, but was close enough to British that it sent pangs through her. Thanatos had adopted something similar when she had been a child, before his voice evolved into something too hybrid to define.
"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Ciara said, raising her eyes to meet with his mirrored sunglasses. Charon smiled.
"I'm Charon. C – H – A – R – O – N. And I'm tired of having to point that out to every imbecile that has a rudimentary grasp of Greek Mythology that comes in here."
Ciara repeated the name, though instead of achieving "Care-on" her accent turned it into "Cahhhr-on" But Charon didn't seem to care, as long as she wasn't saying "Chair-on" anymore.
"Have you got the souls?" Charon asked, brushing at an imaginary speck on his suit.
"Right, course. Where's that bastard pocket…" Ciara muttered, before opening the pocket and drawing out a handful of souls. The moment she let them go they expanded into transparent forms of their mortal selves, and began to wander the lobby aimlessly. A few minutes later, the lobby was more crowded than ever.
Charon's eyes couldn't betray his emotion, but the upset downturn of his mouth spoke volumes. "In future, please don't bring hundreds at once."
"Kay." Ciara said, hooking a finger into her jeans. Silence lapsed between them for a few moments. "Nice suit." Ciara finally said, as Charon perked up proudly. "Yes, it's Italian."
"Shame about the naff nametag," Ciara teased, before turning to leave. Charon's bewildered "It's only temporary…!" cries fell on deaf ears as she transported out of the room, and into the Underworld.
The souls drifting around the room had given her an idea.
When Ciara had visualized Alice Pemberton, she had not imagined something so… desolate. She was standing in a black field, surrounded by countless souls that moved across the grass, occasionally looking up at a stalactite sky. As Ciara moved forward the souls would part like the sea, whispering in awe at the power they felt radiating from her.
Alice Pemberton was a middle aged woman, completely unremarkable in every respect. Her hair was neatly curled and her plump body was encased in a designer dress. The makeup she must have meticulously applied the day she'd died had been smudged with tears.
Alice had been a desperate woman, holding onto her waning youth with an iron grip. With nothing else about herself worth hanging onto, she had sunk into a deeper and deeper depression with each passing year. She stared at Ciara, blue eyes empty and devoid of thought and emotion. Ciara sighed, already uncomfortable.
"Ms. Pemberton?" She asked, as the woman suddenly hitched a sob. "Pemberton, Pemberton… He was going to leave me, for a 22 year old no less… No thought of our years together, no thought of how many of his shenanigans I have tolerated over the years…? Why would he do that? I… I didn't want to ever die alone…" Ciara stared at the crying soul helplessly.
Alice's head snapped up, her translucent face creepily bare of tears, even as her cheeks crumpled with sobs. "So I did it. I sat in the garage and turned the ignition on, and when I woke up… When I woke up… I've made a mistake. I need to go back; I need to convince him to stay…" Alice's red fingernails rubbed at her eyes, as her eyes fixed on Ciara. "You have to take me back. Death, he said no, he said my time had come, but you, surely a sweet young girl like you would take pity on me?"
Ciara had come with the intention of asking Alice about Thanatos, and if anyone had attacked him when Alice was present. But obviously, she wasn't going to be much help. The soul had latched onto her arm and Ciara jerked her arm loose, with a faint air of disgust.
"No I will not help you. If you regret your decision, that's your problem not mine. You committed suicide. There is no one to blame but you."
Although Ciara pitied the woman for having such a seemingly horrible husband, it had been Alice's choice to stay. Alice's choice to make her life revolve around him. Alice's choice to poison herself with carbon monoxide.
Ciara left the Asphodel Fields feeling like a brick wall.
It wasn't a particularly nice feeling.
Checking her watch, Ciara sighed when she saw that she had four hours until her next appointment. Nico would be at Camp Halfblood, so she couldn't go and spend time with him. And as her immortal self, she didn't really know all that many people…
Suddenly, a thought struck her.
Days ago, when she had left school.
What about the people she'd left behind? Sal, the only boy idiotic enough to punch her on the shoulder and call her scarecrow. Meghan, so crazy that she almost bounced off the walls. Riley and Faramir (whose parents were BAD people). What did they think happened to her?
Let alone her uncle.
Then again with Uncle, neither of them would really miss the other – they had co-existed, living together without interaction.
Still, Ciara already found herself teleporting to her school. And in front of the gates, was a small slightly sodden shrine. Her photo was in the middle, and was smothered by an army of teddy bears and flowers. There were cards as well, strewn with glitter.
It was around nine in the morning and as she stared at the shrine Sal walked past, stopping when he faced the photo. Then the blonde boy suddenly started to cry, his shoulders shaking like a leaf in the wind.
Ciara reached out to touch his shoulder before checking herself.
She was a god now, and Sal wouldn't understand. Heck, he probably wouldn't even see her.
Still, it twisted her heart to see him cry. Sal never cried. Ever. Even when his funny bone snapped like a twig, he "took it like a man." A trio of jocks were approaching the gate and Sal bit his lip, wiping at his wet face and destroying the evidence. He stayed next the shrine until they were nearly passing him, then he whispered a few words and darted into the school. Sal must still be eager to keep up his tough, jokester role.
Ciara was rooted to the spot, his words dancing around her ears.
"Love you Scarecrow."
Love. Love? Ciara's lip wobbled dangerously before she turned away, the scene already being replaced by another. The dingy apartment her uncle lived in.
The light in the hallway was still flickering; even though she'd told him a million times that it needed changing.
Moving through the house, Ciara stopped at the kitchen. Glasses were piled in the sink, with barely any plates. The golden brown liquid pooled at the bottom of one gave everything away. The fridge was dotted with magnets, but one jagged newspaper clipping caught her eye.
'FREAK ACCIDENT AT HIGH SCHOOL LEAVES STUDENT DEAD'
There was a small article, and a photo of the destroyed English classroom. The photo didn't catch her eye however "Ciara Morris, 16, was found dead at the scene" did.
The article went on to say that she had strange puncture wounds on her chest and had been burned with acid and crushed by falling debris. Shock and confusion filled Ciara's mind.
The monster hadn't looked ANYTHING like her. Not by the time she got to school anyway. Sure, sometimes she was rough around the edges in the morning, but never slathering hideous monster bad.
What was going on here?
But before she could puzzle over it any further, there was a noise in the living room. Going to investigate, Ciara expected an intruder. Her uncle worked as a labourer doing the day, and spent most of his nights at the bar.
But instead of a burglar, Ciara saw her uncle slumped in an armchair, a half empty bottle of whisky in one hand and a photo of a smiling Ciara in the other. Tears glistened on his cheeks as he took another swig from the bottle. "Oh you cheeky bugger. What would your da say if he knew I'd lost you? I'm sorry I let you down. I'm so sorry, Jaysus…" Having heard enough Ciara turned away and left the apartment.
It was only when she was outside on the street that she realised that her "Freak Accident" hadn't even made the front page.
How insulting.
Ciara sat down on the stairs that led up to the apartment and put her head in her hands. Everyone she used to know thought she was dead. Why, only a week ago she'd been hanging around Sal's locker to scrounge food off him, and Riley had wrapped his arm around her waist and picked her up, and then Sal had chased the two of them down the corridor.
Only a week ago, she'd been a different person.
A 'person' if you want to get technical. Gods are a bit of a grey area when it comes to defining the term 'people.'
Sighing, Ciara pulled herself to her feet, focussed on someone else and teleported. She needed comfort, and he would give it.
To her surprise she appeared outside of a house bathed in twilight instead of beside Hypnos. Even his house seemed to be drowsy, the curtains were half drawn and the tiles on the roof were gunmetal grey and blue. However, there was nothing tired about the voices coming from inside.
"My answer is and always will be no."
"You don't have a choice in this matter."
"As the elder and senior, I actually do. And there is nothing you can do to sway me."
"Nothing? We'll see about that. You're either with or against. Choose wisely brother."
Ciara couldn't tell the voices apart, they were both too cold and snarly. A moment later the front door flung open and a god stepped out, his face secreted by the shadow of Hypnos' porch. Hypnos came and stood at the door, as the god vanished. The moment his brother was gone Hypnos sagged against the doorframe, running a hand over his face as he sighed loudly.
"Ciara." He suddenly said, instantly spotting her in the fast fading light. "What are you doing here?"
Ciara stepped forward, unsure of what to say. The words rushed out of her before she could check them. "Everyone from my old life thinks I'm dead and Alice was no help and Nyx is so daunting I never got to ask her things properly and Hades is a jerk and all this death feels like –" Instantly Hypnos was around her, his hand stroking her shoulders as Ciara fell silent.
"It's ok. Now, start from the beginning, and tell me everything."
To be perfectly honest, Nico already knew that he wouldn't find any useful clues or witnesses at Camp.
But as he settled at the Hades table and sipped at his cup, the feeling of normalcy overwhelmed him, wrapping him in a blanket of security. Here, he wouldn't argue constantly with his father. Here, he could be distracted from the fact that his best friend was practically on godly death row. Here, he could simply stare at a smile that turned him into a puddle, and imagine conversations he would never start.
Still, he mustn't look too much. He mustn't get caught staring, like some sort of pervert. But looking from afar felt so stalkerish! Groaning, Nico focussed on his lunch.
"Hey." That voice. That voice oh gods THAT VOICE.
Resisting the urge to stammer, Nico tried to look up and smile, but instead succeeded in looking as graceful as a rabbit caught in headlights. Finally a sound escaped his throat. "Zuhhh?"
…Oh gods.
He might as well play dead now.
Review and submit a character that could be the one to turn Nico into a blabbering idiot :)