MAIN TITLE: The Keeper of Fate

WARNINGS: See first chapter for warnings. This chapter's flashback contains mentions of bulimia and child abuse.

NOTES: Thanks to Guest, nickiR0x, chaSing b0b, Fangisnotmyfirstname, MeganLeBlanc, Neela4232, Kiriva, angel2u and FlamePumpkin32 for reviewing this chapter!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own PJO. Rick Riordan does. Also, I don't know anything about squids or grenades. I got that all on the internet. There's one specific line - "The tentacles are used for grasping the prey and pulling it toward the mouth, quite unlike the arms." that I got directly from Yahoo! Answers.

Chapter 21: A Cartoon TV Show Saves My Life

My automatic response to watching my friend being dragged into the water by a menacing tentacle is to scream. And then run. Very, very fast.

Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately), before I get the chance to follow through with the second step, Clarisse pulls her spear out of Zeus knows where (although I'm not sure why Zeus would know) and slices the tentacle in half. Then she pries off the part that's still wrapped around her wrist while I, having somewhat regained my common sense, run over to the edge of the pier and reach for Clarisse's hand to pull her out of the water. She's a little heavy, but I manage to heave her onto the dock.

"Styx, Clarisse, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine," Clarisse says through gritted teeth, "once I pulverize the owner of that slimy tentacle."

"Or we could just, you know, get the hell out of here?" I ask hopefully.

Clarisse stares at me.

"Yeah, I had a feeling you wouldn't like that idea."

I sigh mournfully, already pulling my anklet out of my pocket. I undo the clasp and the piece of jewellery elongates into a celestial bronze sword with an amethyst engraved into the hilt. I think it's called a pommel or something like that. I'm not sure. I'm not that into swords. The only reason I made my anklet into one is because it's more convenient than carrying around a thirty inch blade all the time. Though now I can't wear the anklet, because then I'd have to reach down every time I'm attacked, which would probably make me an easy target.

I grip my sword firmly in my hand while Clarisse raises her spear and yells at the water, "Show yourself, you coward!"

I figure now isn't a good time to tell her that sea creatures probably don't speak English. Or maybe they do, because the next second an obviously pissed off giant squid about three stories tall rises out of the water. Even as I watch, ten massive tentacles surface around it, one of them cut a little short at the end, but just as deadly looking as the other nine.

Clarisse suddenly looks a whole lot less excited. My response is something like, "Eep!"

"So, um, I don't suppose you've changed your mind about my 'let's get the hell out of here' plan?" I plead.

Clarisse's face hardens, and all traces of fear vanish from her eyes. "Not a chance," she says firmly. "This thing is going down, and its eight arms are going with it."

"Arms? I thought those were tentacles."

Clarisse smiles creepily. "No, Dess, the longer two are tentacles. You see, the tentacles are used for grasping the prey and pulling it towards the mouth. Quite unlike the arms."

"Quite," I squeak out, just as the aforementioned tentacles shoot out at us.

Clarisse tackles me to the ground and the giant squid's tentacles envelop thin air. Clarisse and I lurch to our feet and sprint down the dock, away from the monster. Half of me is amazed that Clarisse is running from a fight. The other half of me is thanking the gods in all the languages I know – which is basically just English.

Unfortunately, the sight of two retreating demigods makes the giant squid mad. It snatches up the dock with one of its tentacles and throws it at us. I grab Clarisse's arm and lunge to the side. Planks of wood whiz past the place where we were just standing and collide with the hotdog stand where we "bought" our lunch. Thank the gods that the wimpy mortal who was running it took a "break" after Clarisse threatened to beat him to a pulp.

Actually, now that I think about it, the entire harbour is pretty much devoid of mortals. Which is a good thing. I have a hard enough time keeping myself alive. I certainly couldn't protect a mortal at the same time.

Clarisse jerks on my arm, pulling me behind an empty warehouse to avoid the giant squid's projectiles.

"We've got to get out of here," Clarisse says.

"Oh, so now you want to leave? You were so reluctant the two times I suggested it. You were all, 'Oh look, a deadly giant squid! Let's do something incredibly stupid! How about we provoke it and get it mad us? Then we'll have no choice but to fight it!' a minute ago!" I finish my pointless rant and glare at her.

"Look, stop being petty for a second, will you? That's not an ordinary giant squid."

"Well no shit," I snarl back, almost shouting over the racket of the giant squid's attempts to decapitate us with flying fragments of the dock. "It's three stories tall."

"Dess! Shut up and listen. You know those Pirates of the Caribbean movies?" When I nod, she continues, "Well in the second movie, they get attacked by this sea monster at the end, right?"

"Yeah, they get attacked by the Kraken. But what does that have to do with–" I stop short as a terrifying thought occurs to me. "You think that's the Kraken?"

"Yeah, I do," she says, a grim look on her face.

"Actually, I think in the Greek myths they called it the Ketos," I tell her, once again overwhelmed by my need to spout out useless information. I try not to think about the fact that I got said useless information from Luke.

There's a slight pause during which Clarisse sighs in exasperation.

"Do we really have to run from it?" I ask her, at the same time questioning my own sanity.

"Are you suicidal?" the daughter of Ares roars. "That thing can't be killed!"

"Davy Jones killed it!"

"Davy Jones isn't real!" Clarisse screams at me, looking as though she'd very much like to strangle me. "And you're the one who wanted to run away in the first place! Why the Hades would you want to stay and fight it now?"

"Because if we just leave it here, some unlucky mortal might find it and be killed!" I retort.

"This place is practically abandoned!" she points out, her voice sounding frustrated. "And do you really think that monster would hang around near the shore? I'm sure it'll go terrorize some clownfish once we leave!"

"And what if it doesn't, Clarisse?" I snap at her. "Sure, maybe it'll leave this waterfront, but what if it surfaces somewhere else and kills someone? Do you really want to be responsible for someone's death?"

"We wouldn't be responsible!"

"Yes, we would!" I shout at her angrily. "How can you say that? How can you just be okay with stepping back and letting someone die?"

"Since when do you like to play the hero?" She scowls at me. "Gods, you know what? Fine. We'll fight it. I'm sure it'll be a comfort to know that you've saved a clownfish from being eaten at our expense."

She grips her spear tighter in her hand, but her words make me freeze.

Playing the hero…

Is that what I'm doing? Am I risking our lives just for a taste of what it's like to be brave?

Playing the hero…

But I'm not a hero. I've never been one.

"Come on," Clarisse says, her voice rough. She lifts her weapon and I mirror the action. I can worry about my motives later. Thanks to my prodding, Clarisse has made her choice now, and I know that nothing in the world will make her back down.

"Dess, this is the stupidest idea you've ever had!" Clarisse yells at me, ducking under one of the sea monster's tentacles and then slashing at it with her spear. She makes a small cut that doesn't seem to bother Ketos at all.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry! But I can't remember how Perseus killed it!"

"UGH! If we survive this, I'm going to kill you!" she screams.

Ketos swats at me with its left tentacle. Come on Dess, think! I know you have a brain in there somewhere! I try to encourage myself, though somehow I feel like I'm going about it the wrong way.

Okay, come on, Greek mythology. Ketos. Luke told you about it, I remind myself. I try desperately to recall the details. Perseus rescued Andromeda from it, he killed it… But I can't remember how!

Okay, new strategy. How did Davy Jones kill it? I swipe at the monster's tentacle. Damn it, they never showed that on screen, did they? But that can't be the only movie the Kraken's appeared in…I know I've seen the Kraken die, I just can't remember where!

What movie, what movie was it? Wait, it wasn't a movie; it was a TV show… Class of the Titans! That was it! I'm so relieved that I remember that I almost laugh. Okay, now how did they kill it?

"Explosives!" I finally blurt out. "We can use explosives to kill it!"

Granted, it won't be the same as it was in that episode of Class of the Titans, 'cause they had this massive missile made by my father that they dropped into the water, and when it exploded it opened up the sea floor which created a whirlpool that sucked in the Kraken, but it's the only option we've got.

At the word 'explosives' Clarisse's entire face lights up, the way my face would if someone announced that there was an all-you-can-eat buffet. Knowing that I have her complete attention, I tell Clarisse, "We'll launch some hand grenades into its mouth. If that doesn't work, I'll set up the catapult."

Clarisse looks so excited by this plan that I'm almost afraid to give her the hand grenade. She removes the clip holding down the spoon almost before I have time to blink. I throw a pouch of Greek fire at Ketos, causing it to open its beak (yes, it has a beak) and emit what I assume is a cry too high-pitched for human ears. Immediately, Clarisse removes the pin and pitches the grenade into the monster's mouth, just as the spoon is released.

There's a loud boom from inside the giant squid. Ketos flails his eight arms and two tentacles wildly, making huge splashes in the water. I don't think he likes grenades. They probably give him indigestion. I nearly get my head torn off by the monster's thrashing limbs, but thankfully I manage to hit the ground in time.

We repeat the process four more times, and I notice that the monster seems to be slowing down. It's also constantly writhing like every movement is painful.

"Again, again!" Clarisse shouts with delight, like a little girl given her favourite flavour of ice cream.

I stare at her for a second and then shake my head, searching my backpack for another hand grenade. Oh, shit.

"Clarisse, we used them all!"

Far from looking disappointed, Clarisse practically crows, "Then its time to bring out the catapult!"

Oh dear gods, I groan to myself, but I have no choice but to obey.

I remove the wood and the all the other materials from Clarisse's duffel (it was too heavy for me to carry, okay?) and then set up the catapult as quickly as possible. It's not that big, really– it only comes up to my elbow. Anything bigger and even Clarisse wouldn't have been able to carry it.

I'm so focused on extracting the cannon ball from Clarisse's bag that I don't notice Ketos' tentacle until it's wrapped around my waist. The cannon ball slips through my fingers and lands on the board walk with a loud thud. I scream as the tentacle lifts me into the air.

"Dess!" Oh, wow, Clarisse almost sounds concerned. "Oh my gods, Dess, could you be any less careful?" Or not.

"Shut up and help me!" I howl at her as the tentacle's grip tightens.

"Ugh. Fine." She sighs, sounding completely exasperated. Oh, she's exasperated? I'm the one being squeezed to death!

I don't know what I'm expecting her to do – maybe throw her spear at the tentacle, making it drop me. Instead, she lunges for the cannon ball that's about to roll off the boardwalk.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, oh my gods. I'm so going to die.

"Clarisse, don't you dare fire that catapult!" I screech down at her.

"Sorry!" she calls back, not looking the least bit apologetic. "It's the only way!"

I shut my eyes. I feel like my stomach is being squashed – probably because it is. I know she's fired the cannon ball when I see spots of white light behind my eyelids and feel heat on my skin. The tentacle wrapped around my waist crumbles to dust, and then I'm free falling through the air. I land hard on the boardwalk on my side. The sea monster was only holding me about four metres off the ground, but I still feel a considerable amount of pain. I'm going to have so many bruises.

I wrench my eyes open to see Clarisse standing over me, a smug grin on her face and a square of ambrosia in her outstretched hand. The offer of godly food is welcome. The smirk not so much.

I snatch the ambrosia from her and shove it in my mouth, chewing furiously, and the pain fades. I glance around the boardwalk. Two of the docks are torn apart. The boat tied to one of them looks like it's been turned into a sideways hour glass. The hotdog stand is trashed; there's ketchup and mustard everywhere, making it look like a piece of demented abstract art.

"So," Clarisse sighs, her previous excitement wearing off, "back into the Labyrinth we go."

"Yesh," I agree, my mouth of ambrosia. "Bacon tudor Labbirinse."

I'm sitting on the cold bathroom floor with my back against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, fighting the urge to throw up.

Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up, I chant desperately.

Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw–oh. Nevermind.

I try to keep my hair out of my face as I lean over the toilet and – well, you know.

"Dess?"

I freeze for a second, and then I'm once again overwhelmed with nausea. As I lean over the toilet bowl again, Luke crouches down beside me and holds my hair back. The second I feel confident enough to speak without spewing out the remains of my dinner, I tell Luke to F-off. He just laughs.

I throw up one more time, and then finally the nausea fades. I push Luke away, stagger to my feet, and flush the toilet. Luke straightens up and hovers behind me as I stumble to the sink to rinse out my mouth and brush my teeth. Thoroughly.

Luke watches me in silence, and I think to myself that I'd rather it was anyone other than him. One of my brothers. Annabeth. The Stolls. Heck, even Sherman would be better. …Or maybe not.

My mouth finally clean, I turn to glare at him. "What are you doing here?"

Entirely unfazed by the anger in my tone of voice and in the expression on my face, Luke responds, "I was worried about you when you ran off halfway through dinner. I asked your brothers where you went, and they said you mentioned something about returning to your cabin. They wanted to come, but I told them you probably wouldn't want them to."

"What made you think I'd want you to come?" I counter harshly.

"Oh, I didn't think you'd want me to come. In fact, I was sure you wouldn't want me to," he says, staring at me intently. "But I was worried about you. I wanted to help."

I look away. "Well I'm fine, okay? I don't need your help."

I'm peeking at him out of the corner of my eye, so I see the hurt flash across his face.

My anger falters. "I'm sorry, I just… I don't know. But the last thing a girl wants when she's vomiting is for her boyfriend to see her."

Luke rolls his eyes, the hurt disappearing from his face. "You know I don't care. I lived in the streets for five years, Dess. I've seen some pretty gross things. I can handle a bit of barf."

I shrug my shoulders. Luke studies me for a long moment. "Are you going to tell me why you ran off?"

"None of your business."

"Sure it is," he replies easily. "You're my girlfriend, I care about you, and something's obviously bothering you."

I hold his gaze for a moment and then sigh, dropping my eyes. He's not going to back down.

I glance at the girl in the mirror, at her distorted figure, and then I shut my eyes tightly. Fat, a part of me whispers persuasively. But it's okay, you can control it. Don't you want that? To be able to control something for once in your life?

I clench my fists as the nausea once again rises up inside me. I can fight it. I can. I'm not fat, I know I'm not. There's nothing wrong with me. And even if I was fat, there's nothing wrong with that. It doesn't matter how much I weigh. My mother's the one who cares about stuff like that. Not me. Not ever.

But that's not true. There was a time where I did care about stuff like. How could I not, with the way my mother constantly preached the importance of being thin? How could I not, when my mother's ideal of beauty and her belief that beauty is necessary for happiness have been ingrained in me ever since I was little?

"Dess," Luke whispers, and then I can feel his hands resting lightly on my shoulders. "Dess, it's okay. Whatever it is, I can help you. Just talk to me about it. Remember what I told you? I'll always be around if you need to talk."

Slowly, the queasiness dies away. I open my hazel eyes and meet Luke's concerned blue ones. I back out of his grip until I hit the wall behind me. I slide to the floor and hug my knees to my chest for the second time today. Luke steps forward and kneels down in front of me.

"I– I used to be bulimic," I confess.

"Bulimic?" Luke asks, recoiling slightly in surprise. "Dess, I know eat a lot, but I seriously doubt you were bulimic. Bulimia is–"

"I know what it is, thanks," I practically snarl at him, clenching my fists again. "And I'm sure it was bulimia. I used to stick my finger in my mouth to make myself vomit."

"Why would you–" he begins.

"Because my mother told me to," I cut him off, and I can't stop the tear that rolls down my cheek.

Luke is frozen for a second. "Your mother told you to?"

"Yes. My mother is a model. She's not famous or anything, but she's really, really pretty. She was…is…obsessed with beauty, with being beautiful, and for a long time she tried to make me obsessed, too. And for a long time…she succeeded."

"…When did she first– I mean, when did she start–"

I turn my face away and draw in a shaky breath, my nails digging into my palms. "When I was seven years old. That was the first time. She wasn't– She wasn't always like that. It's just…I'm pretty sure my mom never loved my dad. I think it was a one night stand; she got drunk at this party… But she was happy she had me, even though my father told her that I was a demigod. She was okay with that.

"And then she met this guy…" I glance up at Luke, pulling my knees even closer to my chest.

"And he turned out to be an asshole?" Luke guesses.

"No, no. It was great, he didn't even care that she had a daughter. He was really nice to me. He treated me like I was his own child. He used to– He used to make me these banana splits all the time, whenever I got hurt from falling off my bike, or if I came home crying because some mean boy at school pulled my hair…" I trail off when I see Luke's lips twitch upwards, like he's trying to imagine that.

Just for an instant, I smile back. But then the smile slips off my face as I continue my story. "But he found out. About me being a half-blood, I mean. This monster came while they were both at work and I was at school, and it trashed our apartment. There were claw marks in the furniture, the curtains were torn… My mom had to tell him. And he couldn't handle it. He walked out on us."

"Dess…"

"I know you're probably wondering how that led to my mom forcing me to become bulimic. I know it doesn't make sense. But after that she just sort of…snapped. I'm a daughter of Hephaestus, Luke. I know I look a lot different than my brothers, but it wasn't always like that. My mom could see that my muscles were more built than other children's. And for her, they marked me for what I was. She couldn't stand it. At first she just tried to stop me from doing a lot of physical activity, but…a god's genes are powerful. Pretty as she was, my mother's genetics could only do so much for me. So eventually I guess she just decided that the only thing she could do to keep me from turning into a bodybuilder was to – starve me, I guess. Or almost starve me."

"How long–" Luke clears his throat. "How long did that continue?"

"Until I realized that it wasn't something all girls did. I mean, the way my mom explained it to me…I thought it was normal. The truth is that my mother didn't really ever actually force me. She didn't have to. It took some persuasion the first few times, but after that… I was happy to do it. I honestly thought it was a good thing.

"And then one day I was in the girl's change room getting for gym class, and I heard a couple of my classmates whispering to each other about me. They thought I was anorexic. I didn't even know what that word meant, so I went to the library after school and I looked it up on one of the computers. And then there was a link there to bulimia, and I clicked on it… It took me a while to read it because of the dyslexia, and it took me even longer to understand what I was reading and to accept it. I couldn't believe my mother would do that to me."

"And that's when you stopped?"

"Well, that's when I started trying to stop. It's almost like smoking, in a way. You can't just quit out of the blue. It takes a lot of time and effort. Bulimia is almost all psychological. So is anorexia. No matter how much I told myself that there was nothing wrong with me, I still heard my mother's voice in my head, telling me that I had to change the way I looked."

"But you stopped eventually, right?" Luke asks anxiously.

"Of course. I don't know if I'd be alive today if I hadn't. But it wasn't easy, Luke, and sometimes…sometimes I think maybe my mother was right. That I'm fat, ugly, that I need to change myself. And even though I know that there's nothing wrong with being overweight as long as it doesn't affect your health, sometimes I can't stop myself. Sometimes I just feel the need to control at least one aspect of my life in some way. And the scene you walked in on a few minutes ago is usually the result. It doesn't happen very often, but…" I shrug my shoulders helplessly.

He stares at me for a long moment, and I can't help but think that he's angry or disgusted with me. I look down at my knees, relaxing my grip on them. Luke tilts my chin up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes.

"I don't know what you see when you look in the mirror," he tells me, his voice filled with a sort of feverish intensity, "but it's not the same thing I see."

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me, and despite the tears that I didn't even realize I was shedding, I smile.

Stupid banana split flavoured ambrosia. Like I want to think about this memory now. You know, after that Luke did a lot to assure me that what my mother did to me was wrong (even though I already knew that), but sometimes I think that what Luke did is just as bad. He even partly blamed my father for the way my mother treated me, but who's to blame for the way Luke himself treated me? Whose fault does he think it is that I got my heart broken by him? Probably the gods'. I swear on the river Styx that there isn't a single crime committed anywhere on this earth that Luke doesn't blame on the gods.

I sigh, causing Clarisse to shoot me an odd look that I ignore. We turn the corner, expecting to see the metal walls and floor that we've become accustomed to seeing in the past two hours. But what we get instead is a long, narrow room with stone walls and lit torches mounted on said walls. There's a massive wardrobe and a desk on opposite sides of the room, but other than that it's empty.

Clarisse and I exchange startled glances, and then we head straight over to the desk to examine the mess of papers on it. I lean down to study the top one more carefully. It's hard to see in the flickering light of the torches.

"It's a…map?" I say, surprised.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Clarisse says. "And it's not just any map. I think it's supposed to be a map of the Labyrinth."

There's a long pause as we both stare down at the map. As far as we can tell, it's nowhere near finished – it probably wouldn't even help us at all. But it's so tempting…

Suddenly Clarisse yelps and turns pale. She points a shaking finger at the part of the map she's looking at.

In the bottom left corner, there's an image of a scythe.

And the most famous scythe in Greek mythology is Kronos'.

Author's Note: So you've read an awful action/fighting scene and Dess' sob story about her mother. Sorry if any of the info about bulimia is wrong. I didn't do very much research for that part.

Anyways, reviews are appreciated.

Edit: So I changed a few things. The main thing is that before Dess said she was anorexic. However, she was actually bulimic, so I changed that. Thanks to angel2u for pointing that out.