Chapter 11 (3,117 words)

"Please? It'll be a quick in and out, just to see from the top. We have all-day tickets, so we won't even miss the train!"

I glared at Annabeth as she tried to convince me that a trip to the Arch was 'absolutely vital to the completion of our mission.'

"Come on Gwyn, it'll be good for morale! You know how important morale is, right?" Annabeth had her hands clasped in front of her, eyes wide and pleading. "Besides, we have like, two weeks to get to L.A. and back!" She glanced at Percy and Grover, who just looked unsure whose side to take, and shot me a smug smirk. "Besides, we've been on a train for hours! We need time to stretch our legs, maybe even… Get a big, juicy cheeseburger with a side of fries and coke? With some nice, waxy paper, and maybe a couple tin cans?" I didn't have to turn to see Percy and Grover were drooling.

I smacked my forehead in exasperation. "Ugh, fine. This is Percy's quest anyways, it's his decision." Annabeth pumped her fist in excitement. "But," I interrupted her little victory dance with a stern glare. "I'm not going up there." Before she could make to object, I interrupted. "No, I can't go up there. What if we get attacked by some kind of monster? You really think sticking me in a small room with a bunch of squishy, flammable mortals however many feet above ground will end well if we get attacked? So yeah, I'll stay down here with our bags and look for a place to eat." Annabeth took a second to think and nodded grudgingly. So there I was, sitting under the shadow of St. Louis Arch on a muggy Missouri summer day, a basic manipulation of the Mist set up to keep people from bothering me, watching the Mississippi River roll gently by, its brown muddy waters carrying ferries and restaurant boats full of people blissfully unaware of a world under their noses. A warm, wet breeze blew across my face, and I relaxed my head against the cool steel of the Arch, eyes drooping closed as I listened to a faint blues tune that drifted in with the wind. Sometimes I wondered how the mortal world would react to our existence. How badly would they panic? Because they would definitely panic. A whole world of immortal monsters that can never be damaged by conventional means just under their eyes? The existence of gods that confirmed all religions at once, while also implying that human consciousness fuelled them like some kind of eldritch tick?

"Why, it would be glorious, glorious chaos."

I was on my feet and reaching for my sword before my eyes had fully opened. The warm breeze from before had become hot and heavy, and the faint music now seemed like it was playing from some phonograph just out sight, the soft and cheerful voice of a woman just behind the upbeat tempo of an old-timey blues band. The background noises of the city and the river had become faded, muffled, and all of a sudden I was struck by a strange nostalgia for something I had never known: as if I were resting in an old leather armchair on a late summer evening in the dark study of an old mansion, a crackling fire before me and a cold glass of orange juice in my hand. But I could still see and feel the Arch, smell the muddy river, and in my confusion, I lowered my guard.

"Ahh, yes, the old city of St. Louis Missouri," the man said, breathing in deeply and turning his head this way and that as if trying to take in as much of the smell as possible. "It has its charm, I suppose. Though I do prefer sweet, sweet New Orleans." He smiled a deep, sharp-toothed smile. He was oddly handsome; odd because his body was put together in a way 'handsome' should never have been able to describe. His feet were large, and dressed in straight lace shoes. His limbs were just a hair longer than any normal human's should have been, and thin as eight twigs, tied two by two and stuck onto a pot-bellied torso that only seemed shorter than normal on second glance; a maroon-green-yellow three-piece suit under a boxback coat clothed his body, a glittering twenty-dollar gold piece dangled from a watch chain tucked into his coat pocket, and underneath a stetson hat a pair of gleaming yellow eyes peered through my soul, and his smiled stretched almost cartoonishly high and bright. He stood with grace and panache comfortably draped across his shoulders, elegant in his spider-like silhouette.

'Wait, why do I know what to call what he's wearing? I've never even heard of a 'boxback' coat before!'

"Because, child, I can't have you getting my delicately put-together ensemble wrong now, can I?" He smiled cruelly as he twirled a pimp cane in skeletal, red-gloved fingers.

'Fuck, he's a god,' I thought as I sighed and sheathed my sword. I knew a lost battle when I saw one, and it looked like this god was at least willing to not kill me.

"In some ways, yes, I suppose I am a god," the 'god' mused. "But no, it is better not to think of such things, child. And indeed, I am not here to kill you. Simply to observe," he was suddenly at my side, towering over me and delicately scooping a clump of my hair up to his nose and breathing in deeply. "Hmm, yes, it is not every day one comes across a spawn of such… Unique lineage." He chuckled as I recoiled. He smelled of dead roses and a used hospital bed, of cigar smoke and whiskey, and he continued: "Yes, so wonderfully curious! To think, the neutral party is finally in the running, and all because of a mistake made in the heat of passion." He chuckled. "Though I certainly cannot speak ill of mistakes made out of passion. After all," he was on my other side, and a gust of rot and smoke tickled my ear. "It is passion that drives all stories, no? And your father's has certainly set many things into motion."

I gulped and shivered. "Sooo… Was that all you wanted? Do you want to help us?"

The man laughed. "Oh no dear boy, I help no one unless it is for a price. And you currently have nothing of value to me." He gave me an appraising look. "Though when you do, I'll certainly be there to offer my service." His eyes gleamed madly for a moment, before he straightened up, patted his suit down, and looked around. "Well, I suppose it is time for me to say goodbye. There are powers nearby that I have no interest in entertaining right now. I offer you this one piece of advice, free of charge: there will always be an aid for your troubles if you know where to look." With one last chuckle and menacing grin, he gave a shallow bow, turned heel, and simply disappeared. The sounds and smells of St. Louis slowly faded back into focus, and I stood there like an idiot, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

"What the fu—" I rolled to the side as a blade cut through the air where my neck had been. Springing back up into a low fighting stance, sword drawn and in front of me, I narrowed my eyes at… A perfectly normal mortal man?

'No, his teeth are too sharp,' I noted as the man smiled widely, rows of sharp yellowed ivory gleaming back at me. He was tall, with tan skin and long black hair, and was dressed in skins that looked… Strange.

"Well well, a little Greek girl's found her way right into my lap, hmm?" His voice was oddly accented, and I could tell by the look in his eyes, I was little more than food for him.

'Some kind of cannibal monster?' I thought, noting that he called me Greek as I swept my eyes across his form, looking for the weapon that had cut through the air as it did. But there was nothing. No sword, no knife. His fingernails weren't particularly long or sharp either, just dirty and cracked, stained with what looked like blood underneath.

He clicked his tongue. "Oh, little girl, nothing to say? Not even will you ask me how I know of you, godling, or who I am?"

I narrowed my eyes in annoyance. "I'm a guy."

"Ooh, even better!"

'He doesn't seem that strong. Just a normal guy, with no weapons—'

Boom!

Startled, I glanced up to the top of the Arch, catching a glimpse of a long tongue of flame bursting out of the top floor. Which was a mistake. The man burst into motion, a blur in my peripheral vision, and lashed out at me with his elbow. A parry, driven by hours and hours of training and repetition until it was seared into my muscle memory, saved me from getting my face cut in half by literal freaking elbow blades! The riposte that followed was clumsy, ruined by my backpedaling as I tried to get back in my stance after the surprisingly powerful hit.

I noticed his body tensing for another attack. The man was grinning madly as he rushed at me again, and his right arm pulled back to swipe at me again.

'I can stab under the arm and close his blade out, I can duck under and cut his stomach, I can retreat back and to the side while cutting his arm, I can parry and cut his neck, I can—'

I took the hit with my blade and was knocked back. I tripped over our bags as I back-pedalled and fell on my back hard. In a flash, the man was kneeling on my chest. I tried to stab him, cut him, but we were too close. He leered down at me, and I could see the reflection of my own, wide eyes in his oil black ones. I couldn't breathe, and there was something in my throat, clogging up my airway as he drew his arm back to stab his blade through my neck. I couldn't close my eyes, and I was frozen. I didn't know what to do. I wasn't even thinking, just frozen… Until a goaty blur slammed into the man, sending him and Grover rolling away. I lay on the ground for a few seconds, before a jolt ran through me when I realised Grover was in danger. I was up in a flash and turning over to where Grover should have landed with the man, a white-knuckled grip on my sword, but all I saw was Grover, groaning and holding his head. I rushed over to him, my heart still beating in my throat as I pushed down my panic and… Something else I couldn't really identify at that moment.

"You ok man?" I asked, helping him up to his feet.

"Ugh, yeah, I'm fine. I won last year's head-butting competition," he replied, rubbing his head and gingerly poking at his horns under his rasta cap.

"What happened? Where's Annabeth and Percy?" I asked as I looked around for them.

"Percy had to stay up there since there were too many people on the elevator already. I think he got attacked by some monster though because something blew up and Percy got thrown into the river. Annabeth is over there trying to find him."

I cursed and grabbed our bags, throwing Grover his. Already, I could hear sirens approaching, and when I looked I could see news trucks already on the scene. I cursed again, knowing that the mortals would likely blame Percy for blowing up the Arch.

"Godsdamned demigod luck," I muttered as I turned to Grover. "Grover, tell Annabeth I might need her help with the Mist, we need to make sure the mortals don't go overboard with blaming us for blowing up an important historical landmark." Grover nodded, and I made my way to the closest news truck, where a pretty lady was checking her appearance in a hand-held mirror and talking to her camera crew.

"Hey, what happened?" I asked, trying to look as cute and innocent as possible and injecting as much panic in my voice as I could. The reporter turned to me, a scowl on her face. "My mom's still up there! Did someone blow something up?" The annoyed look on the reporter's face softened as she leaned down a bit (she was already pretty tall, and the heels put a good five inches of height on her).

"I'm sorry sweetie, but there's this really bad boy who's been running around hurting people lately, he even killed his mother! We think he bombed the Arch today."

'Damn it, she probably thinks I'm a twelve year old girl,' I thought as I hid a flash of annoyance with a look of shock. 'It's for the quest, it's for the quest, it's for the quest.'

With an immense flex of my willpower (and a small application of thinking about The Iron Giant ending scene and Bambi's mom, and a hint of Neverending Story for good measure) I burst into tears.

"Wha- what's hi- his n- na- name?" I asked through my tears.

The reporter lady seemed startled. "Um, Perseus Jackson is what they told me."

"Peter Johnson?" I asked with a small snap of my fingers, getting the Mist to do some work for me.

"Yes, that's right, Peter Johnson! I'll need to tell my boss to fact check better," she muttered as she wandered dazedly away.

"Whew, that should confuse them for a bit," I said to myself, exhaling in relief and wiping my tears away.

The time between Percy dragging himself out of the river and getting back on our train mostly undisturbed (thanks to generous amounts of the Mist) passed in a haze for me. I remember that Percy told us that he'd fought the Chimera and Echidna up in the Arch and that after falling into the Mississippi, been visited by a naiad who gave him a warning about Hades (which I somewhat discounted, what with Poseidon's and Zeus's bias against him) and a gift of three pearls.

But now that the action was over, my mind had turned in on itself, letting a flood of emotions pool down into the pit of my stomach like Arctic water. It was the shame that hurt the most. The shame in being defeated so easily. It lay in the centre of my chest, a block of ice heavy enough to round my shoulders inward. I couldn't understand what had happened, or why it had happened. In a few seconds, I had been laid out, at the mercy of some nobody. Reviewing the 'fight' (I scoffed at the thought of calling it a fight), I could intellectually understand that the monster was nothing special. Just an average, superhuman being in the shape of a man. I had it beat in reach, in stamina, in speed, in reaction time. I could have ended that fight in two moves.

But I hesitated. In the moment of truth, I froze up, reverted back to the first instinctual moves a beginner uses when they first pick up a sword. I blocked instead of parrying, or dodging and counterattacking, or anything else. I was caught back-pedalling instead of moving smoothly and with balance. And worst of all, I didn't even notice that bags at my feet until I was tripping on them!

'Why?' I grit my teeth in frustration, looking out at the rolling Kansas prairies of wind and golden wheat, turned cherry red in the sunset. 'I'm supposed to be one of the best! The strongest, the fastest, the most experienced! I've trained to fight monsters since I was eight! So why the fuck did I fail!?' The ice had turned to lava, and it rose up into my throat. 'Gods damn it! Damn it damn it damn it!' I wanted to scream and punch something, I wanted to fight someone just to prove I wasn't a failure, that my pain wasn't for nothing. But I kept my face as blank as I could, even as pressure began to build behind my eyes. I felt an elbow poke me in the side, and I turned to Annabeth, who gestured pointedly at my eyes.

"Oh shit! Is it bad?" I asked, panicked.

Annabeth shrugged. "Not too much."

I sighed in relief and stood up. "Alright, I'm gonna go to the bathroom anyway." Annabeth nodded distractedly, already back to reading her book. Percy and Grover were both conked out on their seat as I left our cabin and wandered off to the bathroom.

Checking my eyes and skin in the mirror, I saw it wasn't too bad. Just a slight glow pulsing in time with my heartbeat. I splashed my face with some water anyway and sighed as I took a deep breath, the glow fading as I calmed down.

"Why did I lose?" I asked myself, my voice a whisper as I stared into my eyes. "I shouldn't have. I have everything I need to beat almost anyone. So why? Was it because… I was scared?" My reflection glared at me as if even the suggestion that I was afraid of some random monster were sacrilege. "Maybe… I need to train more." I glared back at my reflection. "I've been slacking. No, I've been unfocused. I was too busy thinking about what I should do when I should have just done something."

'Yeah, that's it. I just need to train more,' I thought to myself, turning away from the mirror and making my way back to our cabin. Glancing in, I saw Annabeth was asleep too now. I checked the clock inside the cabin. "Another 32 hours until we get to L.A. I got time." And I didn't feel tired. Just excited and anxious to start my new training routine. I checked the cabins next to us, and seeing one was empty and had no sign of being used, I layered a small mortal repelling Mist cantrip at the door. The room wasn't too spacious, but I didn't need a lot of space as I would just be doing brute repetitions. So I stood in the centre of the room, sword in hand and new conviction in my mind, breathing deeply and mentally outlining what I would do.

"I have more than a day. Let's do this."

AN: Hello again. Well, that was an unexpected hiatus. Apologies for that, it seems I haven't been in a very good state of mind for the past month. Oh well. I should be back a bit more regularly.

Anyway, I hope you are doing well, and that you enjoyed this chapter. I don't see book one stretching out much longer. As always, thank you for reading, and thank you for your comments addalittlesmoke. Have a good week everyone! Until next time.

P.S.: Wow, are we really 3,000 words away from 40k? I didn't think I would last this long.