Chapter 2: Bad Romans

My mother was pretty much the best parent a demigod could ask for: a scholar. She majored in English, and especially liked classic poetry. If I was born a boy, I would have been named Ulysses. I became Reagan instead – the name of my mother's dead sister. Other than the late Reagan, my mom had no other family, so it was always just the two of us. We were a team.

I was home-schooled all my life. That meant I didn't know jack on trigonometry, but I could name half of Penelope's suitors (and their fathers). Mom worked in a library that she dragged me along to every day, allowing us a tiny apartment near the coast. The coast is where it all started. More accurately, where I started.

That's where I met your father, she pointed to the faraway yellow beach, polluted with people to the brim. I thought he was a just a friendly, young man.

Then the inevitable, Me. I thought that. I should have known right away.

I didn't know what that meant back then. I liked spending time with mom. I rarely gave my father a thought, and he almost never came up in conversation. I know better now. Or maybe I knew better back then, when I never mentioned him.

An old lady helped me find the way. No, really.

I had survived thus far with only wishing fountain quarters and my five-fingered discount (I'm not proud), thinking of camp. There was something comforting about it – the thought that I'd no longer have to live beside a mall. I wasn't even living, technically, I was homeless beside a mall. I was hoping camp would fix that.

And maybe, just maybe, I would also get to know a couple other folks just like me. People with absentee fathers and dead mothers, or people whose only friend was a magical comb named Libby.

That might have been too much. I was hoping for a kindred spirit at least.

There was just this one problem – I made it this far, but I didn't know where camp was exactly. I had this feeling in my gut, like a fisherman who's about to make a catch, that this was the right place. Only I didn't know where. It was driving me crazy, thinking a monster would find me first before I find the camp. Sighing, I stopped beside a convenience store and sat down on the cement, closing my eyes.

When I opened them, an old lady appeared sitting beside me with a basket full of vegetables.

"Dear," she croaked out. If anyone described an old lady, she was exactly it – white hair, wrinkles, a loose old-fashioned dress. Except her voice sounded strange. It was hard to describe, but it didn't sound like the voice of an old lady. It sounded more like what an ancient statue would sound like if it could talk.

Actually, she sounded a bit like my dad. Which should have been the first sign.

There were also the vegetables. They looked strangely out of place in the middle of the urban city. Her basket was small but filled to the brim – corn, barley, wheat, all the works. It amazed me how she moved and nothing even jostled inside.

"I dropped a stalk of corn somewhere near here," she continued. "I had everything accounted for my daughter's party, and I just can't go without that corn. My eyesight's been failing me, and I can't find it. Would you help me?"

My mom's warning voice flared up behind my head. There's something about this old woman, it said, as if it wasn't obvious already just looking at her. "Sure," I replied, since I wasn't sure if I could say no at all. I hopped up, offering her a hand. The old lady took it and smiled, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. Right. That seemed normal. Or maybe her dentist just made her killer dentures, and I was being paranoid.

We walked together down a hill.

"I grew all these crops in my vegetable garden," she told me. "I grow the best corn in the entire world."

"We've got to find that corn then," I said, keeping my eyes peeled for it. "You have a name, by the way? Mine's Reagan."

She didn't answer me at first, adjusting the basket on her elbow. I looked at her from the edge of my vision. "Do you need me to hold that?" I ask.

The old woman gave me a serene smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Reagan King." Did I tell her King? I must have. She still didn't tell me her name. I caught the hint and left it at that.

We'd been walking for a while, her talking about her daughter and crops, which seemed to be her favorite topics. I took Libby out of my hair and gripped her in one hand. I didn't know if I had to use her, but I wasn't afraid to play vegetable ninja if I had to.

Then I saw it: a piece of beautifully colored corn hidden between two patches of grass. "There!" I point. I rushed over, picked it up and gave it to the old lady.

"Here, um… ma'am," I said lamely. The old lady tucked it neatly in her basket.

"Thank you, dear. I see you'll do just fine," she told me, a bit cryptically. Then she reached over and plucked two stalks of wheat from her collection of vegetables. "Keep those as a gift. One for now, and one to save for later."

I stared at the wheat in my hand. My first thought: I don't have to steal food from the 7-Eleven now. The afterthought: Can I eat wheat raw?

"No, wheat is a grass. The important stuff are the seeds inside," the old woman said, plucking my thoughts right off my head. Creepy stuff. "Also, you don't have to eat those, dear. What you're looking for is right ahead if you." Smiling a little, she turned her head to the side. I followed suit.

A few feet beyond me was a tunnel flanked by two guards in Roman attire. I knew right away that this was it. Camp. I whipped my head to the side, but the old lady was already gone. Mega creepy stuff.

Tucking the wheat under my shirt, I approached the cave. The two guards, who I could see now were two teenage boys just my age, stared at me carefully. One had a shock of blonde hair underneath his helmet, shadowing his eyes.

"Hey," I start out. "Is this camp?"

For some reason, the two boys weren't shocked when they saw me. They just calmly took me to a building they called prinsipia. It was a rather scenic walk towards there, filled with other teenagers, some adults, and ghosts ("They're called lares," Jason said). I wasn't fazed much. After all, I did just kill a bunch of thousand-year-old maiden priestesses last week.

But more than that, it was the buildings that I loved. "I'm gonna be living here?" I asked Jason and Dakota.

"Well, yes. It depends, actually," Jason answered. Dakota didn't seem to be talking too much. In fact, he was probably drunk under that helmet.

It depends? "Is he drunk?" I pointed at Dakota.

Jason let out a little grin. "Drunk on Sprite, probably. Dakota's a son of Bacchus. He's new here, just like you."

"Sprite? Man… that's unhealthy. And colorless. I should introduce you to something with less sugar, more vitamins. Maybe… Kool-Aid?" I tell Dakota, patting his shoulder plate. Dakota glances lazily at me, his gaze cut by the gray of his armor.

"Well, I guess they're both equally bad," I conceded.

Jason laughed. For some reason, he made me uneasy, kind of like how a storm would agitate the sea and cause it to rise. Even his laugh prickled at me. "So… what's your name? Who's your godly parent?" He asked.

"The name's Reagan King. As for godly parent… well. I don't really like talking about him," I said. I felt that telling Jason who good old dad was would be like causing a fight.

"Fair enough," Jason replied. "I've never seen mine either. He just claimed me."

"Claimed you?"

Dakota chose this time to chime in. "Like… a sign, man. For Jason, it was a thunder bolt. Lightning, whatever. Tore up the sky. Also, left a coin in the middle of the Field of Mars."

"Coin. Field of Mars. Makes sense. Somehow, you really are drunk on Sprite," I replied. Dakota didn't seem to react.

Then I realized it. "Wait. Your dad's Jupiter?" I asked, whirling over to face Jason. No wonder I didn't want to tell him my godly parent. We'd get along like cats and dogs.

"Well. I don't really like talking about him," Jason said, imitating me. I let out a little laugh in return.

"You are here," Dakota slurred. "I mean, here we are. In we go." The prinsipia.

The inside of the prinsipia was pretty much like where you'd imagine a Roman king would live. Purple curtains. White columns. High ceilings. The works. Towards the end of the building were three people urgently talking to one another in meeting. Jason nudged me forward.

"I hope you end up in Fifth Cohort," he whispered to me. "I'm its centurion."

When I took a step, the people huddled around each other turned to look at me. The redheaded woman in the middle was dressed in royal purple robes and was the only one seated. She was obviously some kind of leader. I looked nervously towards Jason. Was she also centurion? My mom's voice whispered in my head: centurion, commander of an army.

That didn't sound right. This woman was obviously some sort of higher power.

"A new arrival?" She asked. Her voice sounded heavy, like a sigh was waiting at the end of every syllable.

The other two people in the room glanced at her. One of them, a golden-haired boy, stared daggers at me for presumably interrupting their important meeting. If looks could kill.

"Her name is Reagan King. We found her walking down the hill alone," Jason reported. "I was helping Dakota with his first guard duty."

This caught me by surprise. "Alone?" I asked. At the same time the woman asked, "Without the wolves to guide her?"

I looked at her. "Wolves?"

She stared back down at me, her lips in a tight line. "You do not know of the wolves?"

"Um… should I?"

Jason glanced at me. I had the unpleasant feeling of everyone's eyes on my face. "Nothing? Wolf House? Lupa? They didn't send you here?"

"No, actually. Hey, are you sure I came in alone? I'm pretty sure there was an old lady…" I said. Damn that old lady. She must have been the goddess of creepiness.

"This is useless!" The blonde boy sputtered. "The wolves didn't even find her worthy!"

"Quiet, Octavian," the woman said. She leveled a stern gaze at me. "This is a rare case. My name is Lucille, daughter of Mars. I am the praetor of the 12th legion. This is Octavian," she gestured at the blonde, "and this is Reyna." Reyna was the silent girl beside her.

"Nice to meet you," I said, and I held out my hand, but nobody moved to shake it.

"Do you have a recommendation letter?" Lucille demanded.

I didn't know what to say this, so I just said rather stupidly, "Oh, a recommendation letter? About that. I didn't realize I was applying for a job."

"Well, that settles it. Obviously, she can't stay here," Octavian smirked. I suddenly had this irrational urge to smack him.

Lucille's eyes narrowed some more. She was probably my age, but I noticed the fine lines crawling out her eyes. Wrinkles. On her fine red head, there was a streak of brittle gray. "Who sent you here?"

"Uh… my dad," I said. "It's a very long story. There are water fountains involved."

Lucille replied with only a "hm", and didn't ask any more. By her side, Reyna still had yet to say a word. She was staring at something beyond Lucille, as if turning over an idea in her head. I could hear Dakota slurp Sprite behind me, although how he did it with armor I could not follow.

"Ah!" I said, "I'm pretty sure a goddess gave me some wheat." Everyone gave me a strange look. "She led me here."

I pulled the two wheat stalks from under my shirt. Suddenly my hand felt warm. Lucille's eyebrows raised as the golden wheat hardened and twisted into two yellow scrolls. The scent of freshly harvested crops invaded the room like a mist.

One scroll immediately unraveled to reveal a note. I read it out loud.

Greetings, Twelfth Legion!

Behold the daughter of Neptune – I cringed at this part – Reagan King! She plays a very useful, ahem, important part in a puzzle. Until she lives out her role, take care of her. She is very fragile for a demigod girl. She does not even know that wheat cannot be eaten raw.

The great goddess,

Ceres

The goddess's name echoed throughout the prinsipia.

"In my defense, I was very hungry and she gave me wheat. Anyone would think of eating it first," I said.

Reyna chose this moment to speak. "Children of Neptune… they are bad luck. I do not like this, Lucille."

"How many times have I heard that this week?" Reyna ignored me. Jason's eyebrows furrowed, as if he was just realizing why I didn't want to tell him who my dad was.

"We cannot ignore the direct orders of a goddess. Especially Ceres," Lucille said grimly.

"Yeah, we might run out of food in a week," Dakota hiccupped.

I could tell nobody liked the idea of that. Everyone mulled over it. Then Lucille spoke again. "What does the other scroll say?"

"Oh yeah, I have another scroll," I tried to open it. It stuck firmly closed. I pried the paper's edge. It wouldn't budge, as if it was stuck together by some magic glue. "It's not opening."

Octavian approached and impatiently pulled it out of my fingers. I glared at him as he forcibly tried to rip the scroll open, coming to the same conclusion as I did. Then I remembered. "You know, Ceres did tell me: one for now, one to save for later."

"What does she mean that you are part of a puzzle?" Jason asked from beside me.

"I – I don't know." I was honestly feeling a bit overwhelmed. Sure, I could handle fighting monsters with Libby or even being surrounded by five strong-looking Romans, two of whom were in armor, but this trickery of the mind was not my strongest suit. "All I did for her was find a piece of corn."

"Give the open scroll to me, Octavian," Lucille said. I gave Octavian the other scroll and he handed it to Lucille, making it a point, I noticed, to avoid Reyna's strong gaze. Lucille read the scroll again. And again.

"Tell me how you found this goddess," she demanded.

I told her. As I got closer to the end of the story, Lucille seemed to get more and more exhauseted

"Well," she finally sighed. "It says here we're to take care of her. She may not have been taught by the wolves, but a goddess did personally bring her over here."

"Is that enough of a recommendation letter to you?" I ask brightly.

Lucille threw me a tired glare. "Certainly. Jason, show Ms. King to the Temple Hill. Octavian, start her augury. Report to me if anything is found strange.

"Now, all of you go. You're hurting my head."

We turned around to leave. As I stepped out towards the entrance, Lucille's booming voice suddenly surrounded the room. "Ms. King."

I turned my head towards her.

"Remember to keep that scroll close to you at all times," Lucille said grimly. "We don't know what will happen when it opens."