"If you have a sister and she dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?"
— Jodi Picoult (My Sister's Keeper)
"What is the rebel's strategy? What do they know about the gods' locations? How do they communicate from base to base?" Lars muttered, pacing. "What—"
His dad turned in his desk chair. "What," he asked, dead serious, "is the wing speed velocity of a swallow?"
"African or Euro—" Lars stopped. "Dad!"
The Doctor smiled a little, and Lars had to work a little harder to keep his glare on. "This is serious."
"I know." His dad continued smiling, but his eyes changed. "I know."
Glad that they were back on topic, Lars turned back to his list. "Now I just have to figure out how to get her to blab. Do you want to help?"
"Help—No." Dr. Kunhyi looked stricken, more than Lars thought he should be. This was going to be amazing. He finally had her. The resistance was as good as dead. Travel, here he came. There wasn't anything tying him down anymore.
"It's not a big deal," he pointed out, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. "I mean, she's Eden Emmerson. She deserves to die."
"I know. I just don't want to be there when kids get tortured." The room seemed to get a lot colder. "Call it leftover paternal instinct from Ismene—"
Lars cringed, feeling the old anger swell up again, faster than it should have. There was no room, no traitor in the basement, nothing but fear and anger and loss…
"No!" he snapped, realizing he had actually raised his hands, trying to fight it off. "That is the reason we fight. Emmerson stands by the gods." The gods who stood by while camp defenses broke, while monsters killed their children in their own sanctuary. Eleven years, and the feeling hadn't faded. The feeling of being cut in half—in the morning, a twin, in the evening, alone. "Shut up."
His father looked away. Was the fool crying? He shouldn't cry. He should just stop thinking about her… "I know what has to be done." His voice was quite steady. "Do what you have to."
"Right now," Lars snapped, "I need a beer." Disapprove all you want, he thought. I dare you. He was of age. He could do whatever he wanted. "I'm going out."
"Lars—"
"Shut up." The study door slammed behind him.
Ismene. He would not, could not think of her. She would distract him. Eleven years, and he did not think of her. Not until his father had said the name. The password to so many memories that he kept locked away where no one could find them.
"Hey, Izzie! Catch!"
"That's a water balloon, dick! Do I look stupid?"
"The hellhound is my kill!"
"It's mine!"
"I stabbed it!"
"I shot it!"
"You know Dad is extra special because Athena sent him two."
"No, she sent him two because you're not brainy enough."
The voices in his head were getting louder, and it was his voice, the higher, prepubescent version, and hers. Even though he had forgotten her face, her voice would never leave. The rain soaked into his clothes, and he broke into a run. So close to the Ave…
"Get your feet off my bunk, Lars!"
"They're not on your bunk."
"They're hanging down in my face. They're in my space. Get them out."
The rain on his back, the cold night air outside. He started to run.
"Ismene! ISMENE!"
"Lars. Lars. She's… she's dead., Lars."
"She is not! She never loses a battle. Izzie!"
"Come on, Lars. Come away."
"Let go of me, Chiron! NO! Izzie!"
He pulled open the door to the club, the loud music overriding his thoughts. Good. He marched up to the bar, enjoying the way everyone looked at him, realized who he was.
The bartender reached for his usual order as soon as he appeared, and Lars took the bottle farther down the counter, all the while watching a younger girl—twenty one, maybe twenty two—dancing with her boyfriend.
Ismene.
No one had spoken of her. Hadn't thought of her in years. Ever since he joined the Titan army after she died. Her face, her voice, thirteen years of memory were shut down, erased.
'It's a monster. It was a monster."
"Don't worry, Izzie. It's gone. The boy killed it."
"The boy with hooved feet! I want to go home…"
I want to go home.
I want to go home.
I want to go home.
Ismene!
I want to go home.
Izzie! Ismene, leave me alone!
Her voice went silent in his head as he took another drink.
O-o
The street outside seemed louder than usual, lights flashing, giving him a headache. He needed to call his driver… had he really run all the way here? He didn't want to walk all the way home. It was raining.
"You!"
What? He turned, half expecting someone offering him a ride. Instead, he found a knife in his face.
Automatically, he reached for his sword, before realizing he didn't have it. He had left his house too quickly.
Ismene, this is your fault.
The holder of the knife was vaguely familiar. Maybe he had shown up somewhere in his photos. He didn't do battle much… he was sneakier…
"Want to come with me?" The familiar-yet-not-familiar rebel asked politely.
How had he gotten here? The noise leveled out, a roar in the background. There was… what was happening? The rebel. He had to fight the rebel.
Said rebel got right to the point. "Where are they?"
"Emmerson?" Lars lucked away as the knife pricked his skin leaning towards where he saw a taxi cab coming. He lifted one arm.
"Stay." A hand grabbed him, and he could sense something coming towards his head. Was he about to be knocked out? Where was his sword, his backup? They were always around. He hadn't captured Emmerson just to get captured himself.
Was he drunk? He was definitely drunk. Wasted. Smashed. But he could do this. He spun, somewhat clumsily, knocking the rebel in the stomach.
"OLYMPIAN!" he yelled. "Get 'im!"
More people were coming forward, trying to pull the rebel back. Lars jumped at the taxi. Fingernails scraped the back of his neck.
"I'll tell Emmerson hello for you when I get'ome," he called over his shoulder, before slamming the cab door shut behind him. The rebel pushed a civilian out of the way, making a jump for the car.
"Go go go," Lars muttered to the driver.
The driver went.
O-o
"I don't want to hear it."
"Too bad."
"I don't have to hear it if I don't want to."
"You want to go torture rebels like this? You can't even drag yourself out of bed." His dad put his hands on his hips, glaring down at him. "According to NPR you can't even fight rebels like this."
Had that really happened? God, he would never hear the end of—
Lars! Ismene reached for his mind. Cringing, he forced her back. Locked her into a tight box with his memories, and she was gone again.
O-o
He'd talk to Emmerson tomorrow, he decided, pointing to his empty cup. A slave ran forward and filled it again with coffee.
He didn't feel good. And anyway, she'd have enough to deal with right now. He wouldn't want to take away from her time with her cellmates. Sighing, he glanced at the earpiece sitting on the counter. He'd have to get rid of that. Might have a tracker in it. Damn. With another loud sigh, he knocked back more coffee. Today was not going to be fun.
Tomorrow would, though. Tomorrow would be fuckin' excellent.
O-o
Ok. So this chapter took two weeks. So sue me. And it's really short. That's because I thought another chapter was going to come first, so I wrote half of it, and was like wait, no, I need LPOV. So yeah. And I used a Jodi Picoult quote. Why did I do that? sheesh. I don't like her.
Anyway.
Oh and if you're reading this a month or a week or a year from now and you think I don't want you to review because I already posted review replies, you are wrong. If you're reading it after it's done I'd really like to know, even if all you say is "I read this".Lol.
AHumanRobot: Let me first say that I love your username. That's awesome. And thanks! Yeah… my characters just grew on me.
Tonycat: I never mention Chiron and the party ponies. It's an interesting question. I should probably answer it shouldn't I? and I want to see how he's going to make the storyline not like PJO, what with the Saving of the World and stuff. Since he's already done that.
Morganic: Congratz! Our school doesn't have a football team… and I don't know. It depends on how much story I have left =)
Moonrise: this is the longest I've gone without updating. I feel bad…
Shrrgnien: Why are you so sold on 12/15?
Fishpony: well, this chapter is ridiculously short. Lol. Thanks! I'll try and find the computer file and edit… I'm not sure if I have it now because it's on the school comp.
Haha. I know who. So there.: she wasn't playing dead. She was drugged up =) I haven't read City of Bones… I started it… people tell me I should give it another chance…
Hayley: thanks.
Hp: psh .just go to . lol jk thanks =)
Dctwi: thanks!
Fana: why would I give away the ending?
