As we walk through the camp, I notice that it is almost deserted. Two boys are shooting hoops on the basketball court. A couple of burly looking kids are polishing armour at a nearby shed. They stop to give us odd looks. (I don't blame them.) Harley leads up to a giant ranch house with a wraparound porch. He opens the door and walks right in. "This is the big house." He says gesturing to the room. I look around and yelp. "Is that leopard head moving?!"

Harley glances over. "Oh, that's just Seymour."

"Just, Seymour?!" I shake my head. "You know what, forget it."

The furniture is mismatched and old. The armchairs overstuffed and threadbare with age. The carpet is worn down. "What are we doing here? And where is here exactly?" I demand.

"Welcome to Camp Half Blood, my dear." Says a voice behind me.

I turn to face the tallest man I've ever seen. At least, I think he is a man, until I see the horse body attached to his torso. I jump back,startled. (Just my luck. I think my week can't get any worse a man with an awful tweed jacket and the lower half of a freaking stallion shows up and welcomes me to his magic camp) "Uh, Amaris," Harley steps forward. "This is my mentor, Chiron."

Cynthia steps forward. She barely even comes up to his waist. "You're the son of the Lord of Time." She says dreamily. Her eyes are clouded over and her fingers twitch. "The golden eyed ancient one."

Chiron's horse legs shift nervously, his tail flicking, but otherwise his face does not betray his feelings. "I am indeed, my dear. And you are?"

"I am the daughter of the torch bearer." She says, her voice high and clear, "The one who guided the mother who was searching for spring." Chiron coughs nervously. "Well, welcome to Camp Half Blood, daughter of the torch bearer." He turns to Harley to avoid having to look at Cynthia.

"Harley, my boy. Maybe you should take these two ladies on a tour, show them the canoe lake and get them some new clothes from the camp store. Then you can ask Phoebe to help them out while you come back here and we can have a talk." He trots forward, his head brushing the ceiling. "With any luck, most of our campers should be here by dinnertime and with any luck, these two ladies will be claimed at the campfire. You came in on the day that camp is supposed to open. " He ushers us out the door and it shuts with a resounding click behind us.

"Uh, alright then." Harley says. " We best get going. Lunch is an hour." He steps off the porch and makes his way toward the central hearth.

"These are the cabins." He says, waving his hand around. They are squat little buildings like cubes but each one is decorated and modeled differently. "There is a whole other block over there." Harley says, gesturing toward the woods. "And when you're claimed you'll go to your parents cabin."

"My parent?" I ask. I'm completely over this cosmic joke. I think I might walk out of here right now. "I'm sorry- I can't do this anymore! I'm going home."

Cynthia whirls around to face me. Her face is twisted in frustration. "Don't you get it Amaris?! This is home now."

I glare at her in silence. " And the thing you cannot accept is that the world is bigger than you want to think it is. You are not crazy! You never were. You're just different. They lie to you! Everybody lies to you and you are to blind to see it. " Her voice rises louder than I have ever heard her talk before and she is not even shouting yet. "Amaris. You are what they call a demigod. You are the daughter of one of the Oylmpians. The ancient greek gods are still alive."

She whirls on her heel and grabs Harleys' arm. "Come on!" She says dragging him away. " Let's go to the camp store. I want to change out of these clothes."

…

A few minutes and a knocked over rack of floral patterned shirts late, I am out fitted with a sturdy pair of boots, dark blue denim jeans and an orange t-shirt that says, Camp Half Blood.

It fits perfectly, which is a welcome change to Harley's baggy T-shirts.

Chiron and Harley both look up when I come out the door. Cynthia is sitting on the porch railing looking out at the woods.

"Harley, my boy." Chiron says "Why don't you take Miss Thompson and Miss DeLa Rosa to the weapons storage to see if you can't find them blades?" Harley nods in agreement and gestures for the two of us to follow him.

We walk in silence through the camp until we reach a small shed behind the climbing wall. Harley takes a key out of his pocket and opens the door. A waft of dank musty air wafts over us and I cough and gag.

"Ooh." Cynthia claps her hands and skips into the shed. When the dust clears and I can see again, I have to admit that I am impressed.

The shed is filled with weapons of every description. Laid on racks or piled in corners.

Harley flicks on an electric light and gestures us inside the shed. Swords, spears, bows and arrows. Strange knives and throwing stars. "Wow." I admit.

"Not bad is it?" Harley says with a hint of a smile. I pick up a sword from the nearest shelf. And immediately drop it. Harley yelps and jumps out of the way.

"That's heavy!" I say, massaging my wrist. Harley bends to retrieve the blade, picking it up as easily as if it had been made of plastic. Cynthia holds up a pair of knives with two handles."I like these!"
Harley walks over to examine them. "Balisongs. Nice."

Cynthia shakes her head. "Butterfly knives." She says gleefully. She throws one up in the air by a handle and it flips over and over until she catches it by the other handle. Harley raises his eyebrows at her. "Have you used those before? I'm pretty sure they're illegal to carry."

Cynthia grins. "I'm pretty sure it's illegal to carry that." She points to his waist.

Harley looks like she just slapped him. "How can you see that? It's coated in Mist."

I sigh and take Cynthia's arm. "Come on, Cynthia, it's your Schizophrenia acting up again."

She scowls at me and yanks her hand out of my grip. "I'm not crazy." She nods at Harley. "Show her."

Harley reaches to his hip and pulls forward with his hand. I gasp as he pulls a sword away from the sheath on his waist. It becomes visible as it loses proximity to his body.

It's a long flat blade with a handle made of silver or iron. It looks heavy.

I gape at him. "How did you do that?!" A red flush appears on Harley's cheeks. "I made it." He explains. I don't even want to know.

"Hey Harls." Says a gruff voice from the door. I turn to find two young women standing there. They are both fit and buff. They both have scars and look like they spend a good lot of their time working or fighting. One of the girls has a swollen lip. The bigger of the two women holds out her arms. Harley embraces her. "Nyssa." He sighs. "I missed you."

She laughs. "Same to you kiddo." Harley turns to the other girl and embraces her as well. "What happened to your lip?" He asks.

"A drakon in central park." The girl says. Harley laughs and turns to us. "Amaris, Cynthia. This is Clarisse" He gestures to the girl with the split lip, "Daughter of Ares and Nyssa, My sister." I raise my eyebrow and glance between them. The two don't look anything alike.

"Half siblings." Nyssa clarifies at my look. "Same dad, different mums." I think I am beginning to get it.

Nyssa eyes the balisongs in Cynthia's hands. "Those are nice. Old but nice." She crosses to a shelf in the back and reached to the side of it. She retrieves something small and short . It's a sword with a double edged blade that looks delicate and deadly at the same time. "This is a kindjal." She says. "It's a Russian blade. Try it out." She places it in Cynthia's hands.

Cynthia's eyes widen. "Oh wow. It's really light." Nyssa grins proudly. "I made this one myself."

Cynthia runs her hands lovingly over the silver filigree on the handle. "Do you see anything you like, girl?" Clarisse asks.

"I have a name." I tell her snappily.

"I know." She grins. "So, you see anything you like?" At random I snatch a spear off a rack.

Clarrise shakes her head. " Not with that body of yours. You're not tall enough." She picks up an object covered in dust. "Try this out."

It's a leather belt with a blade sheathed on each side. I pull one of them out. It's a long knife, the blade is wicked and the length of my shoulder to my elbow. The handle is wrapped in black cotton cloth. "It's an ancient hunting blade." Clarisse says. "I'm not sure what time they're from." She takes the knife from me and slides the other one out of its sheath. "You hold them like this." She demonstrates by wrapping her hands around the handles with her pointer finger toward the tip of the knife. The sharp edge perpendicular to the ground. I consider them for a moment. Then a silvery gleam in the corner of the shed catches my eye. Slowly, I step toward it. I retrieve the item and slowly brush off sixteen years worth of dust. It's a silvery bow. Curved and supple. With a crescent moon carved into the wood. Clarisse looks over and her eyes widen imperceptibly. "Where did you find that?" She asks. "Uh." I gesture to the corner. Clarisse takes the bow from my hands and turns it over. She traces her fingers over two letters carved, just where the bow string meets the wood. " This belonged to a girl I used to know." Clarisse says. " Her name was Zoe Nightshade. She was a hunter." She hands the bow back to me. " I think she would be happy to see her weapon used again." Far off in the distance, we hear the clanging of a brass bell. " It's lunchtime." Harley says. "And we better get going. Mr D doesn't like it when people are late."