I made a mild edit to an earlier chapter that will be important. In Chapter 3, Percy asked Calypso if she knew about "Chaos' firstborn." I changed that to "Chaos' forgotten son." It's a subtle but important distinction.

Chapter Fourteen: Her Love Was a Lie

AFTER THAT DAY'S EXCITEMENT—no one ever quite recovered from the status quo interruption of a gargantuan metal dragon stampeding through camp—people milled around distractedly until the campfire dismissed. As everyone filed out of the amphitheater in irregular clumps, I glanced back at the fire; it burned low, a deep purple. A little girl, about eight-years-old, had appeared to tend the flames. A nondescript brown dress made her look rustic and out-of-time.

I checked ahead of Sam and me. The others didn't look very attentive, muttering to each other as they drifted toward the surviving cabins for sleep (Nike would be staying with Athena, Demeter in Dionysus, and Pollux loudly declared he would be sleeping in Cabin Thirteen for no other reason than he wanted to). I paused Sam. She looked up at me with a beleaguered sigh.

"What is it this time?" she asked tiredly.

I winced. "Sorry," I said. I motioned at the girl. "You see her?"

Sam frowned. "She…wasn't there before."

I chuckled. "She's Hestia. I think she wants to talk to me."

Sam shrugged. "Okay, I guess. I'll save a bed for you." She hugged me around my middle before running off into the nearest conglomeration of people.

I drifted back to the campfire and sat down beside Hestia. A paranoid glance over my shoulder drew a quiet laugh from her. "You're under my protection, Percy," she said. "They won't notice us."

I relaxed and pulled a knee up against my chest, draping an arm over it. "How are you, Lady Hestia?"

She smiled at me. "Content," she assured me. "I do not think you can say the same for yourself, however."

I rolled my wrist flippantly. "I'll live." I hesitated. "How long has the dragon been a problem?"

"Since shortly after the Second Titanomachy."

"And people seriously think Beckendorf would do it?"

She hung her head. "They believe him discontent with their failure to save you."

I flinched and growled, plucking a blade of grass and flicking it into the flames. "This cannot be happening," I muttered. "First Luke gets a bad rep 'cuz the Olympians got pissy about my gift, now Beckendorf? I mean, at least Luke makes sense."

"In their defense," Hestia began, "none of them hold him in contempt."

I scowled and looked at her. "But they think he cursed them?"

"Most think they deserve it." She looked at me. "No one took your death well."

I deflated and held out my hand. It resisted the heat for a minute before the skin started to redden and sting. I watched the process with sick fascination, only vaguely aware of the pain lacing through my veins.

"Please stop that," Hestia interrupted patiently.

I snatched my arm away with a short shake of my head. "Sorry," I said.

Hestia stayed silent a moment. "Nico di Angelo has helped a few people cope with similar struggles," she told me. "Perhaps—"

"That would just make me sympathetic and you know it," I said. "I need them to hate me with a…a passion. I can't have them thinking I'm just some misguided guy who needs a little more help than others."

"And if this deal you made with my sister follows through?" she asked. "Young Samantha does not deserve to learn about your problems in such a way."

I winced and ran my finger over the burns. They hurt, but not as much as the warning. "I'll get help up in Canada when we move there," I said. I didn't know whether I was telling her the truth or not. "They've got systems up there, right?"

She nodded.

I shrugged. "There's your answer."

We sat in silence for a while.

Finally, I asked, "Any ideas on how to completely put people off?"

Hestia laughed musically. "Am I the goddess to ask such a thing, Percy?"

I chuckled. "Nah. You're not." I hesitated. "Does anyone suspect anything?"

"Nothing that endangers them," she said, smiling at me. "You've done well, hero. I only wish you did not have to do this as well as you do so much else."

"I don't do hardly anything 'well,' Lady Hestia," I said, sighing. "If I did, we would be having a very different conversation right now."

She smiled and stared into the fire. "Perhaps the flames could show you that conversation."

I frowned at her funnily, but she didn't elaborate on the strange comment.

A thought struck me. "Uh…Lady Hestia?" I started hesitantly. She hummed. "That dream I had…the fire that looked like it was coming from a person."

"Yes?"

"Was it real?"

She hummed again. "You know better than anyone the lens of reality is too malleable for such a simple question."

I flexed my fingers. "Was it a demigod dream?"

She didn't answer.

I groaned and hung my head. "If I'm getting those again…what's going on, Lady Hestia?"

"Ancient forces are stirring," she said sadly. "They have stirred for quite some time. Now comes their hour." She looked at me. "And, perhaps, yours as well."

"I had my hour," I said. "Been there, done that. You can check 'completed a Great Prophecy' off my bucket list. 'Sides, how am I supposed to save the world if I can't even tell the people I love who I really am?"

"You couldn't do that anyway, Percy," she said, looking at me.

I frowned deeply. "What do you mean?"

"You have to answer that question for yourself before you can answer it for them."

Then, all of the sudden, Hestia was gone.

~1~

I remembered this moment. I didn't want to relive it. So, of course, my dreamscape made me.

Stupid, naïve, nineteen-year-old me had my arm wrapped around a pretty, lithe redhead who rested her head on my shoulder. Neither of us were in great shape, wearing discount clothes we mostly shoplifted off outdoor thrift store racks. Our multitudes of regular fights had left us tired and scraped up. I covered my scar with a sheen of thin Mist to make this chat easier to have.

Justice of the Peace Vanev looked between us nervously. I didn't let his rational dubiousness dissuade me, continuing in my explanation.

"Look, ma—I mean, sir," I corrected quickly, "we really love each other, but we're not in any position to get an actual home with the money to actually elope. We'd rather not wait forever and then never say I do, so…I mean, couldn't you just pull out a sheet of lined paper or something for the effect?"

"Wouldn't it better if I helped you get help?" he asked. "You both—"

"Please, sir," my pseudo-fiancé, Francesca Geary, pleaded, breaking away from me to lean over his desk. A daughter of Demeter, she didn't have the same weaponized sexuality daughters of Aphrodite tended toward, but she knew how to milk the distressed girly routine. I suppressed a smile. "You know it would take years if we were really, really lucky to straighten out and raise the money we'd need. Maybe one day we can get married for real, but…" She wandered back over and took my hand. "Can't you see how much we love each other?"

Vanev softened and nodded, sighing. He pulled out a sheet of normal, lined paper alongside a couple pens. I almost broke up laughing, leaning into Francesca's ear to whisper conspiratorially, "Should I see if Riptide can be a real pen?"

She giggled sharply and swatted my arm. "Oh, you." She looked at the Justice. "You think you could say some of the…stuff? You know, the vows? Just for effect?"

Vanev smiled. "Of course. Could I have your names?"

I hesitated and glanced at Francesca. She waved me on encouragingly. "I…would rather not say mine. We'll go with Eric?"

He nodded and looked at Francesca. "Francesca Geary," she said, wrapping an arm around mine and snuggling close.

Vanev looked at me. "Eric, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do you part?"

I cupped Francesca's cheek and beamed. "Abso-fucking-lutely."

Francesca arched an eyebrow and flicked me in the forehead.

I laughed loudly. "I mean, I do," I amended.

Vanev repeated the vows for Francesca, and she said, "I do."

The Justice motioned at the paper. "Sign your names, then."

I messily scribbled "Eric" on the paper, stepping back enough to let Francesca write her piece down. She glanced back at me. "Well?" she prompted. "Don't you want to watch me pseudo-legally become your wife?"

I laughed and stepped closer, leaning over to watch.

She picked up the pen.

She uncapped the pen.

She spun and tried to stab me in the trachea with the pen.

I yelped, diving out of the way a second before it was too late. The Justice screamed as he scrambled for his phone to call the police, but Francesca slammed his lamp onto it before he got the chance. He fell backward.

"Fran?" I asked fearfully, easing to my feet. "Fran, whatever's going on, this isn't you, okay? You're…something's controlling you. You just have to fight it."

Francesca laughed wickedly and turned on me, pulling her knife. "You gullible fucking asshole," she said, clicking her tongue. "I didn't even have to try."

I stumbled back into the wall. "What are you talking about?"

The knife glinted in the light as she tilted it. "My name isn't Francesca Geary," she said. "It's Emily Richardson. And my mother is not Demeter."

My heart stopped. "I…what? But—"

"All children of Demeter have some kind of green thumb, you moron," she told me with a sharp guffaw. "Have you ever seen me do well with any plant?"

I shook my head hopelessly. "I…I…why? But—"

"Because I needed to get close to you," she told me, flipping her knife into the air with a casual ease and catching it. "You've made a lot of very dangerous people very angry."

My heart sank. My face slackened. "You're one of Kronos' soldiers."

She choked on a laugh. Her pale blue eyes glittered with malice. "You wish," she told me plainly. "One of those amateurs, you'd take them out in a heartbeat. Me? I'm another league entirely, baby." She flipped her hair.

I shook my head. "Then…then what? Who?"

"In English?" She shrugged. "The Coalition of Sacred Atë."

I clenched my fist. "And who's Atë?"

"One of Zeus' daughters," she said, smirking. "She tricked him into swearing his son would one day become god of all men, and he cast her down from Olympus in a fit of characteristic rage. A few decades later, she started recruiting disgruntled half-bloods, a few infants she raised in her image—to sew discord and ruin."

"And you're her daughter?" I demanded, disgusted.

She laughed loudly. "Oh, wouldn't that be just lovely?" She waved her hand. "No, my mother is Apate. Goddess of deceit?"

My eyes watered. "Then everything…"

"Everything I said and did was to kill you, yes," she confirmed. She paused. "Although how would you ever know if that was true, either?" Her eyes sparkled.

White-hot anger, fanned by the sting of betrayal, ignited in my stomach. I threw myself at her with a broken war cry, drawing Riptide in one smooth motion. She ducked aside like I hadn't even tried, immediately throwing me on the defensive.

The best knife-fighter I'd ever sparred had been Annabeth, but I put even her through her paces after a couple years. She freely admitted, along with the rest of camp, that I was the best swordsman in a hundred years next to Luke. Not many people lasted very long against me. Fewer could win.

But Emily was winning.

Worse yet, she didn't even look like she was trying. She used her surroundings against me, throwing me into retreat every few moments. By sheer dumb luck, I managed to disarm her with a yell, but when I attempted to follow through, Riptide froze over a centimeter from her neck.

She smirked. "You can't do it, can you?"

My entire body shook. "You used me," I strangled. "You made me love you just so you could kill me."

"No hard feelings, babe," she said, pouting at me. "You've got no idea how much money they're paying me to take you out. Really, it's all business."

"Business?" I choked on a sob. "I loved you!"

"And isn't that the best part?" She simpered. "If it makes you feel better, I will always treasure those steamy nights we shared."

"We never slept together, you slut," I growled. "Thank the gods for small favors."

She shrugged. "Your loss, babe." She guided my sword away from her neck without a moment's indication of fear. "Well, if that's how this is gonna go, I'll tell you what. You get to live for today. Hey, keep my knife while you're at it!" She kicked her fallen weapon over to me. "That weird little design you like to look at funny sets people like me out from the heroic types like you. Something might rub off on you."

I tightened my grip on Riptide. "I'll never be like you," I vowed.

She arched an eyebrow. "Swear it on the Styx?"

Somehow—to my coldblooded terror—I couldn't make the oath. Tears cascaded down my cheeks.

She giggled. "Face it, babe. It doesn't take all that much to turn somebody like you into somebody like me. You're halfway there already."

"You're wrong," I insisted.

She clicked her tongue. "Keep telling yourself that." She winked and sauntered over to the door, nudging it open. She glanced back at me. "Fair warning: I never let any of my targets get away. You're the first, and that's 'cuz I think you're fun. But I will finish what I started someday." She waggled her fingers at me and skipped out.

I looked back at Vanev, face twisted in pain. I raised my hand and snapped my fingers. "You didn't see a fight or hear anything about Greek Mythology," I said as the Mist distorted reality around me. His eyes glazed over. "I hesitated to sign the paper and she got angry at me, then stormed out. Just another lover's quarrel."

He nodded. I shrunk Riptide down and scooped up Emily's knife. I stepped outside in time to see her climb onto the elevator.

I had no problem taking the stairs.

You should know: I hate flashbacks. The classic form of cohesive, coherent scenes that took place in the past? I feel like every story I use that in loses dramatic tension when I fall back on those methods, but it's basically impossible to write this baby without falling back on them every now and again. You had to know the story with Emily, which meant I had to tell it in a flashback. I wanted to use any other method. I couldn't.

This will go down in history as one of my least favorite updates, but it still continued developing the story, so…I'll work with it.