Rescued by a Love-Eyed Goddess

When they entered the Men's Section in hope of decent clothes, they were utterly horrified.

Her mouth hung agape as she took in the sight of many ridiculous suits and formal wear. "Apparently, shirts do not exist in this ridiculous store!" exclaimed Faith, throwing her hands in the direction of a rack of blazers. "I would've rather walked that two miles to get to the other clothing shop."

Taking in the lack of response the hunter had gotten, she whipped around to see an alarmed Annabeth. Meeting her gaze, Faith already knew what she was wordlessly saying.

"I'm telling you, Chase, that was not the goddess of love," said Faith, snickering quietly as she strode over to a suit with a ruffled collar and gave it a look, "and if it were so, she would've at least arrived to meet us in her glittery flair."

"Oh, I'm sorry for being worried!" retorted the daughter of Athena, struggling to keep by the brunette's brisk pace. "You see, I can conclude I've had more experience concerning love goddesses more than you do!"

Faith did not know how to reply back to the annoyed blonde. Instead, she busied herself and walked past the cloaked figures that awed themselves with the ugly suits. Their draped cloaks was a rather fluky choice of clothing, especially it was a hot summer as of now—

Now, Annabeth was really panicked. The hunter noticed how she stuck her hand in her elongated pocket to where her bronze dagger lay masked. Faith began twirling the silver wreath on her wrist too, eyeing the people that seemed to have no face within their hoods; just darkness in a never-ending abyss.

"We need to get out of here," said Annabeth, her knuckles white as bone. "C'mon, let's find Perce."

"We're splitting?" blurted Faith, growing uneasy.

"Absolutely not!"

They moved fast and near-silent, avoiding the areas where it was deserted. They rounded a corner, going further in hopes of colliding with the son of Poseidon. When he wasn't to be found much to their dismay, Faith lead them both to the right arc part of the store that seemed to be embossed with a slight pink.

"Oh, gods," whispered Faith, seeing that it was deserted and the cloaked figures seemed to grow in number. But this area, it was empty. Truly empty.

Annabeth tightened her jaw, her grey eyes calculating. "Keep that pretty little bracelet of yours near," she murmured, "just in case."

Faith found herself muttering a silent prayer when they surveyed the area as quick as possible, hoping that she'd stumble upon a black-haired teenager with brilliant sea-greens and a mischievous grin.

He wasn't there.

The brunette could hear Annabeth whispering to herself as the hilt of her ivory dagger poked out of her jeans pocket. Faith kept a hand on her wreathed wrist—a feigning accessory. They took a quick route to the last part of the Men's Section, where one of its lights seem to flicker on and off.

"Jackson's not here," said Faith, frantic. "Oh, gods above, you don't think these guys found him before we did?"

Annabeth steadied herself, still looking about as if she expected Percy was there. "Maybe," was the only thing that fell from her lips as a few cloaked figures strode towards racks of clothes.

Faith took a step back. It had only come to her realization she'd never been in a situation like this before—she was always the one to remain and heal whoever needed to be treated. She was quite decent with a bow and arrow, but never as much of an accurate shooter like Thalia or Phoebe despite having the blessing of Artemis.

In a flash of white and silvery light, one of the masked people unsheathed a slender wicked weapon, to which it grew until it reached the small sharp point on its end. At the same time, Annabeth drew her gleaming dagger as an angled bow wove between Faith's delicate fingers.

The rest of the cloaked figures raised their own blades. How in Hades did they hide such weapons in their frail bodices? Did they, like, hide them on their groin or something?

"Who sent you?" said Annabeth, her eyes glinting with a promise of slow death. None of them spoke, heavy breathing in sync with the slight scent of lavender. Faith swore loudly; they were ridiculously outnumbered.

The sound of clattering and shining iron and bronze became one as they lunged at them. They focused on Annabeth, seeing as she was deadly with that dagger of hers. Faith's fingertips ached disdainfully as every time she released an arrow, a new one would shimmer and materialize from mist and wind.

A groan resonated, interlaced with an agonizing pain. Faith hesitated, daring to glance at the daughter of Athena. Her eyes widened upon seeing the dashing red line that went from her collarbone to her shoulder; blood whipped and flew everywhere as she whirled and brought madness upon them.

Faith's vision enhanced, adjusting to her heightened senses as her shots went clean through the cloaked figures. Yet, this did nothing to stop one of them from speeding towards her direction, slashing wildly—

She winged it.

Everything became a red and white blur as she let go of her bow, a tickling rush of wind clutching on her wrist. A wicked smile formed on Faith's lips as she pulled out her two daggers, swinging them with a twinkle in her eyes. If she couldn't handle a bow and arrow right, might as well play with her knives.

My dear old friends, she thought as the leather hilt rested on the palms of her hand. The man going for her hesitated for a mere second, giving the chance for her to slash across his clothed chest. He retaliated, snarling viciously—oh, gods, that was not a humanly sound—and brought that glinting blade upon her.

Faith pivoted sharply, her braids snapping in the wind as she felt her strands of hair sliced. She'd even twisted far enough to avoid the man's second attack, but the third was unexpected as the hunter found herself gasping from the burning ache on her head. Her eyes stung, watering, but rolled to the side before her head found itself dislocated from its body.

The brunette kicked the hardest she could, suddenly realizing her daggers had slid along the marble floor—it was too for away for her to reach. The man was quick enough to land another strike along her throat; a gash deep enough to hurt and sting for a good few days.

On the corner of her eye, Faith spotted another one coming her way. Gods above, how was Annabeth doing?

She didn't bother to avert her attention for another second before curling her fists and landing a steady throw at the cloaked figure. Her head reeled with agony as Faith tasted blood in her mouth—yet, this did not stop her from gliding towards her daggers. Once she got hold of her weapons, she panted and drove it home towards the man.

Then another, and another. Sparkling yellow dust shrouded her clothes, face, skin. It was everywhere. Faith felt a building ache on her throat—she was losing too much blood—

It was hard to swallow, let alone breathe. Faith wiped her burning eyes rapidly, trying to stand up straight. She let out a shuddering breath—gods, Annabeth looked as terrible as she did. Three; she was fighting the last three.

"I'm going to kill Jackson after this," muttered Faith, striding towards the lot. With a last monumental effort, she raised her dagger over the figure and plunged it deep. The other two was dealt rather quickly by the bloodied daughter of Athena.

Faith's knees threatened to buckle, screams and shouts ringing in her head. She looked up, hazed, staring blankly at the daft mortals that ran away. "I wonder what they saw," she croaked, smiling weakly as her daggers found their way back to the elastic straps just near to her waist.

Annabeth's lips were parted and split, hurrying over to Faith. Her head was spinning, coppery spots dancing in front of her vision. In hopes of stopping her bleeding throat that grew warmer and warmer as seconds passed, she desperately tried to rip her worn-out shirt.

"Here, here," Annabeth mustered out as she handed her a soft towel that silkily kissed her fingers coated with dust and dirt. Unlike the daughter of Athena, Faith wasn't used to getting injured so easily.

Annabeth noticed this. "Come on, let's get out of here," she choked out, not bothering to rest. "Before things get worse."

"We look terrible," said Faith weakly, clutching the silk towel to her throat as her eyes rolled back for a moment. "I'd rather stay bloody than wear those sparkly dresses."

A small wheeze echoed, making the two girls whip their heads around in alarm. Faith couldn't stand up straight, and her vision blurred. Would she even be able to heal herself?

All she could see was a guy in a tattered orange shirt. Faith couldn't make out the imprinted words on it.

"What—what happened to you guys?" blurted Percy, eyes wide and panicked as his face went a pale white. With the sound of ravenous metal clinging against one another, he had his sword in his hand in a matter of seconds. "Are you a monster that thought you could trick me into thinking you're my friends?"

Too tired to retort back a smart comeback Faith had in mind, Annabeth answered for her in a stricken tone.

"It's us, Percy! I swear to the gods, it's us!"

If Faith had blinked, she wouldn't have seen it—how the son of Poseidon lowered his sword by half an inch. With an eyebrow raised, he spoke again, "Say something only Annabeth would know before I spill your throat on the floor."

The hunter blinked many times—hoping the daughter of Athena would answer quicker. Was there a first-aid kit in here?

"I, er . . ." Annabeth hesitated, seeing that Percy really was determined to spill their throats on the floor. "Oh, all right! We set on friendly terms yesterday, remember? And, um, Faith had rudely ordered the captain of the train to be dismissed—"

"Rude?" muttered Faith, "I'm not rude."

For a moment, Percy considered their words before rushing to their aid, murmuring repeatedly as Annabeth cussed him out. "Sorry, sorry! I just had to make sure, I mean, I went to the toilets and they weren't sanitized properly—oh, holy Poseidon, we have to get out of here!"

The sound of blaring sirens filled their ears. Oh, the damned mortals! How could they possibly escape when the one doorway in this store was so far away? With a sharp inhale of breath, Faith lurched over. Her eyes roamed wildly, begging to see a vault with first-aid kits before they left. She'd die before they even arrived in the train—

"Need help, my dears?" Faith didn't even hear the footsteps. When she turned, the pretty saleslady she'd seen awhile ago in awe held out a hand. Was this really the love goddess Annabeth talked about?

Percy backed up, whilst Annabeth scowled ruefully. "Unfortunately, yes. Would you mind disguising us in decent clothing, Lady Aphrodite?"

Faith stared, petrified, as to see the saleslady's reaction from being called a Greek goddess. Surely this was a mortal—maybe, due to the Mist, mortals can see them as troubled teenagers having difficulty in finding suits and dresses for their dates?

"You're going insane from the blood loss," the brunette murmured to herself nimbly, her throat sore. Faith trembled; bringing her hand up to her neck, she felt the dried blood remain. The cut was shallow enough to not bring any damage to her inners.

The saleslady smiled widely. Shouts—orders and commands—grew louder and louder. Was that the police? Were they close?

"Well." The woman's skin glowed; it was radiant. "Follow me, then. I suppose you wouldn't like getting yourselves into trouble, hm?"

The sound of groaning wood echoed, the polished ornate walls forming a huge doorway. It's thick stony threshold revealed the carved words in Ancient Greek—Faith only made out the word Workshop before stumbling in.

Percy slung a hand to her side, trying to support her weight. Faith's mouth felt dry.

"Hey!" said Annabeth, who had stopped moving forward and onto the dark-embodied tunnel. The entrance to which they had gone through closed with a rumble as a firelight burned.

The daughter of Athena did not move from her spot. Annabeth seemed to be trying to communicate with Percy as she shook her head as well, but the son of Poseidon simply gave her a confuzzled expression.

"Oh! I have forgotten to tell you," said the former saleslady, who now adorned in a clad rosy chiton that looked horrendously like butterfly silk—soft and warm. "This," said Aphrodite, clasping her hands together, "is Daedalus's Workshop. A gift from my husband, though he made a few tweaks here and there."

Percy replicated the sudden alert and wary look Annabeth wore. Faith felt like jelly under his hold, so she remained silent and gaping.

"Daedalus's . . . workshop?" said Percy, horrified. "This is the last place on Earth I'd want to visit again."

A smile upheld from Aphrodite's bright face with an elegant eyebrow raised. "I did say my husband made a few tweaks here and there. He made it less dangerous!"

Annabeth only huffed. Faith glanced between the two demigods wildly, her mind racing. She needed a pretty damn good healer—maybe some ambrosia or nectar, but her mouth didn't dare move a muscle. What were Annabeth and Percy doing? Why didn't they just move?

The daughter of Athena reminisced her glare at the love goddess. "Be more specific with your words," hissed Annabeth, knowing too well that Aphrodite was having the time of her life at the moment. Faith could tell as well, from her eyes shining with amusement to her little playful grin that grew wider and wider.

"Isn't it obvious?" Aphrodite sighed loudly, putting her back on them. "Hephaestus made the Labyrinth work for me! Whatever I required from it, dear Annabeth, then it would bring me to what I need."

"That is," Faith muttered, hoping no one heard, "rather convenient, actually. Now fetch me some damn healing food before I puke on you, Jackson."

Percy made a noise between a wheeze and a choke before loose zippers and foil clashing through other things strung in her ears. He was quick—he had managed to get ahold of the ambrosia and offer it to her. Faith gave him a look as Percy decided to shove it in her mouth himself.

He, too, handed one to Annabeth. The ambrosia did nothing to cover up the slash on Faith's throat completely, but it was doing something.

"Well, er, thank you. For saving us from the mortals," said Annabeth, her words slurred as she chewed on the ambrosia a bit faster. "But we really need to get going, and fast. Just give us some clothes or something." Shut it, Annabeth! I need some damn first-aid kits!

"Oh, no!" reprimanded the love goddess, gesturing for them to come along. "You need to be treated!"

Faith's lips parted slightly, watching in mesmerisation and awe as wooden barks and cleaved parts of stone and crystal clinked against one another, emitting a series of sounds. The rocks and purplish stones gleamed brightly as it seemed to be pulled—like one making puppets dance. It gave path to a doorway, extraordinarily more humungous than they were. Vinery and ornaments fell from the arc above, weaving through rock.

The smell of perfume hit Faith like a brick to the head, and—

Aphrodite began resembling a six year old who received a car as a present. "In here," she said, her hair swaying. Was it possible for it to look messy yet intriguing at the same time? "You'd find everything you need for your journey to the Underworld!"

The three half-bloods chose to act out the deafening silence. They followed Aphrodite's footsteps that clicked with the marbled flooring. Faith, as much as she probably looked pathetic due to her current state, scanned the room with unease and alertness. She spotted a white box, and—

"You need treatment, dear," said the love goddess, plopping on a fancy plump couch that spread wide in a U-shape. "I'd dare say you can be rather pretty once you get your bloodied face cleaned up."

Faith blinked. Once, twice. She hadn't realised Aphrodite was talking to her.

"I don't want to wear those frilly dresses," said Faith, sounding whiny. "I just need the emergency kit, or something like that!"

A bristled huff was the only response the hunter had gotten from Aphrodite. Out of her mind, Faith released the iron-like grip she'd had on Percy's arm the whole time. Yet, once she got on her own two feet, she'd almost tripped. When the others looked at her due to the noise of her foot sliding amongst the soft ruffled carpet, Faith feigned a cough.

"You're literally a wobbly fawn," joked the son of Poseidon, realising his mistake as Faith smacked him on the shoulder.

The love goddess did nothing as Faith and Annabeth shared the first-aid kit among themselves, treating the major injuries which even godly foods cannot heal. Percy provided as much help as he could've offered to them, and it had made no difference at all.

As Percy shuffled and unzipped multiple layers of his bag, Faith idly swiveled her head to the calmed Aphrodite. In fact, the goddess had her eyebrows perched together deeply, as if in thought. From time to time, Aphrodite would mutter, "No, that won't suit her . . . yes, that would do."

Faith could only guess what schemes or other plans the annoying excuse of a goddess had in her mind.

"Hey, Faith, how deep is yours?" said Annabeth, her voice strained and distanced. Had she been speaking while Faith was placing her attention elsewhere?

The unfocused healer swallowed, wincing at the stinging sensation she'd gotten as if fire had licked her throat bare. "I, um, not deep enough to cause breathing problems," said Faith, scowling at how filthy her hands were. The fact that it was her blood made it more disturbing than it already was.

Percy perched his eyebrows, soft and careful. "A little ambrosia would do the trick, I think. Just don't take too much," he advised, handing her a sealed see-through bag of little honey-like squares.

Still pressing her hand to her throat, Faith struggled to open the bag. Her cheeks colored pink, almost snorting at herself at how funny she'd probably looked at the others.

Percy, having seen what she'd failed to do, chortled loudly. "You could've just told me, you know," he said, easily opening the bag with a pop!

"That's not really my fault," hissed Faith, ignoring wave after wave of nausea that engulfed her senses. "I can still beat you right now in a wrestling match."

Annabeth snickered, cackling at the two as she dabbed a tissue with alcohol on her cheekbone.

"I'd like to see you try," mused Percy, taking out a small piece of ambrosia. Faith leaned forward with a great heave and extended her arm, expecting the son of Poseidon would hand over the square of godly food.

He didn't.

For a few moments, they had a glaring contest. "Give it to me," she demanded, her extended arm feeling numb.

Percy shook his head, smirking. "You hold an award for the person having the dirtiest hands in the planet. So, deal with it."

Faith heaved, parting her lips slightly with an eyebrow raised. Then, something hit her.

"Hey, that's my line!" argued the hunter, now grinning stupidly as well. "Didn't I say that the first time we met?"

"And it just so happens it's the other way around this time," speculated Percy as Faith munched on the ambrosia that hurt her gums when she bit it too hard.

Faith had forgotten about Annabeth, who listened in on their etched words. The hunter felt a tingling feeling crawl through her bodice, making her shiver. The ambrosia was working, then. Too bad it only healed the minor cuts and bruises.

A distant memory splayed in her head, like a theater for her ears and eyes only. Faith pursed her lips, remembering the first time she'd met the son of Poseidon.

"Open your mouth."

"What? Why?" Percy shifted on the drafty bed. She still held the ambrosia near his mouth much to his liking.

"Ambrosia, buzzard. Now open."

"No. I can feed myself just fine."

The huntress raised an eyebrow at him. "You hold an award for the person having the dirtiest hands in the planet. So, deal with it." She brought the cube of ambrosia to his mouth again.

A silver sterling clock hung on the magenta walls that vaguely reminded her of perfume shops. The ticking lines made a clinking sound every time an hour has passed by.

Faith visibly cringed as she pulled the thin plastic that topped the lengthy bandage. Arching her bare neck gently, she brought the bandage to her throat to which a great red line shrunk very slowly. At least the ambrosia was working—if it didn't, Faith would've shoved a few more chunks of it in her mouth if it weren't for the fact it would kill her by doing so.

"I think we're ready to leave, don't you think?" the brunette whispered, low enough so Aphrodite wouldn't hear. "She's really nice for helping us, but I'm not really staying for—"

"Your clothes!" gasped Aphrodite, seeing they were ready to go out again as Annabeth slammed shut the first-aid kit abruptly. "Oh, girls. Surely you would not leave when you're wearing clothes that are not only filthy, but also make you an easier target for monsters?"

Faith shrunk back, half-glancing at Annabeth. "Well, the goddess has a point," she admitted.

The hunter swore that the daughter of Athena was biting back her retort. "Okay," was all Annabeth said, "just . . . don't make the clothes too . . . attracting."

A bubbly giggle sounded from Aphrodite as she threw her head back. "Well, I cannot promise that, can I now? While you were busy, you see, I was already deciding what clothes suit your appearances best," she said, bemused. Faith stood, shaky, and cocked her head to the side as she watched the love goddess stride towards an antique closet with delicate flowery carvings.

With a poof, white smoke clouded the scented air. Faith scrunched her nose, inhaling too quickly and began fanning about as a sickly aroma set in. A few coughs and chokes sounded, and—

Faith didn't know when she began leaning over a wall for support, but a burst of pain erupted in her head—so strong it was enough to color her world black.