She pulled her hair into a messy braid and began to paint. She had a beautiful view of the city from her balcony, and it was one of her favorite things to paint. In the morning light it was absolutely glorious, so she got up early to paint it in sunrise. Paint spattered her clothing and got on her skin, but she ignored it. The light changed so she had to work fast. And she was determined to get it finished today. Today was important.

She had this idea that something was going to happen. It wasn't prophetic, she couldn't really do that anymore. But she still got hunches now and then. She added a brushstroke to her painting and smiled, finishing. New York City was beautiful if you didn't let negativity clog it up. Which was one of the reasons it was best for her to have her own place away from her parents and camp.

The drama those two things came up with sometimes made her want to shake her head and walk away. So she had. Admittedly her apartment was a little nicer than Octavian's place. In fact, his apartment could fit in most of the rooms in her apartment. She moved around the well decorated apartment, heading for the shower to get the paint off of her. She had just stripped down and turned on the water, climbing under the luxurious stream when the doorbell began to ring. She didn't hear it, she was listening to her music.

She had quite a collection.

Everything from Good Charlotte to Meghan Trainor.

And she was getting super lost in the music.

That is, until someone started banging on the door. Her eyes shot open and she rushed out of the shower, toweling off quickly and throwing on clean clothes. She hurried out to her front hall and threw open the door to whoever had the nerve to urgently beat it down.

"Yes, excuse me?" She said sharply, knowing that her father's puppets could get rude when they wanted to find her, if this was what that was. The man composed him self.

"You have a court summons to testify in a murder case." Rachel choked.

"A murder case? What? I'm in no way involved with murder!" She spat. The man shuddered, seeming afraid of her.

"I didn't indicate that you were but you were listed as someone to contact for a character reference regarding the man who pleaded guilty to murder, a Mr. Octavian Alexander." Her eyes widened and her heart stopped all the sudden. She felt a little dizzy, a little woozy.

"Alright. I will be there." Rachel said, feeling cold and trying to compose herself best as she could. He gave her a couple of dates and notified her that she'd be called. She nodded and tried to act like a mature adult living on her own but let's get one thing clear.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare was only 19 years old and she was terrified. She'd never experienced the feeling of actually wanting to run into her parents' arms and be hugged and cuddled and cry.

But that would never happen. Her parents' arms weren't open. At least not for her. So she put on a warm fuzzy sweater and curled up on her couch, beginning to cry, hugging a pillow. She didn't understand what was happening to her, or why she felt so upset or why she couldn't get thoughts of him out of her head. She'd barely ever talked to him. He'd been a nasty, power hungry little brat...

...Whose eyes contained such a sadness, like all his life they'd been focused on one thing and one thing only, not being the outcast, the bad guy.

Well that had backfired.

He'd said his name so formally after the words pleaded guilty to murder. Mr. Octavian Alexander. That stupid name! She threw the pillow across the room like a tween angrily getting over heart break. She had no idea why he did what he did to her but his name just hit her like a train.

And then those eyes.

Murderer, she reminded herself.

Those sad blue eye were the eyes of a murderer. Who had he murdered, anyway? And why was her creative mind so inclined to insist that whatever dirty deed he had done it was totally necessary for justice? Why was she trying to justify something so horrendous?

Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

She groaned and went to get some ice cream, another silly preteen break up thing. They had barely talked, why was he stuck in her head? He probably didn't remember her name. Why did that matter? She ate her ice cream, putting on music so the silence and loneliness wouldn't feel so bad. When she was done with her bowl she decided to get back to her art. That was her income, after all. That and her parents. She sold her paintings and taught art for younger kids at a local gallery.

So it was natural for her to take her emotions out on a canvas. She painted without paying attention. Without thinking. Her talents had gotten better, and better. Sometimes her paintings reflected what she saw in her dreams. Sometimes more prophetic than other times. Right now, not prophetic in the least.

She wished it was though. She wished it was so crazy quest or something wicked insane involving another Percy Jackson spin off.

She would have excepted Zeus in a speedo, at this point.

Instead, his sad eyes, drawn gorgeous, and a shy smile that seemed to be for her. She screamed and fell backwards. It was him. It was him in that painting and it was...

Actually, it wasn't giving her the creeps.

But it made her feel something, something that after Percy she had promised she could bury and never feel again.

She screamed once more and squeezed her eyes shut so she didn't have to face the murderer.

The murderer that she was in love with.