Hi guys!

Sorry, I really did mean to have this up sooner with the cliffy in the last chapter. It's been an interesting week. But it's here now and I hope you like it!


The front door was unlocked—not too unusual given people were home. I flung it open, rushed inside, and left it standing wide open behind me. My mom was still outside somewhere, but for now she was the least of my worries. If there was a monster in the house, and I was pretty certain there was, it wouldn't be interested in my fully mortal mother.

If possible, Ollie's barking grew more frantic at my entrance. I followed the sound to the living room's far wall. Carly sat, curled on the floor and backed as far into the corner as she could go, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed. Ollie stood defensively in front of her, ears back and hackles raised as his angry barking reached ear-splitting levels. He growled menacingly when I came into view, but backed off some once he recognized me. He didn't leave my daughter's side for an instant, but he continued barking, warning this time, his eyes now focused intently behind me.

"Daddy!" Carly cried over Ollie's noise. She gave no reaction whatsoever to the sword I gripped in my hand. In light of everything else, it was probably a far smaller shock. My heart ached to rush to her but I couldn't comfort her just yet. Ollie, that great dog, had her covered.

"Where's Mommy?" I demanded of my daughter now, even as I turned away, scanning the room for signs of a fight. The tiniest part of my mind recognized the fact that after this, our cover was blown. There would be no more hiding the truth from our youngest child. We would need to tell her. I pushed the thought aside as quickly as it had sprung up. There were more important things right now.

"I don't know!" Carly sobbed in reply now, "She went that way," she pointed shakily in the general direction of the kitchen. "There's a—" A crash rose up then from the place she'd indicated and she broke off. I was already moving.

"Stay there!" I yelled behind me, "It's okay! Stay with Ollie!" I didn't wait for her answer but I could have sworn I saw her nod as I turned the corner.

The first floor of our house was arranged in a fairly open plan. A single wall separated the living room from the kitchen and across the way, with an island in the middle, was the formal dining room, which rarely saw use these days. It was in here where I hit pay dirt after turning the corner into the kitchen, quickly but quietly, my sword leading the way.

I entered in time to see Annabeth, beautifully fierce and obviously annoyed, fighting dagger to fang with a blonde-haired empousa. The latter's bronze leg scraped against the wood floor as she moved, striking out with little success and then moving to defend herself from my wife's retaliation. It was hard to tell how long they'd been going at it. Neither looked particularly tired, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

The monster glanced over for the tiniest instant at my entrance, which proved just enough of a distraction to provide Annabeth the smallest opening. She took it and began moving in offense a millisecond before the empousa did. The she-demon lashed out in response, fangs bared, and, before I could do anything, launched herself at Annabeth. The latter was already moving and had probably expected as much from her opponent. She diverted the assault but the empousa, who was maybe smarter than she appeared, changed course at the last minute. Fangs connected with flesh. Annabeth barely reacted as teeth penetrated deep into her forearm and tore down. The bold move had left the she-demon exactly where she needed to be and my wife drove her dagger home, right beneath the monster's collarbone and straight through her heart. With a shriek of outrage and pain, the empousa exploded into golden dust. It showered Annabeth like golden snow as she straightened and I reached her.

It had been a beautiful kill, but not exactly a clean one. Blood seeped slowly from Annabeth's wounded forearm but she was remarkably unfazed. It was spared only the quickest glance before her eyes fell on me. "Nice of you to show up," she said half-heartedly, "Where's Carly?"

"Kitchen," I replied, eyeing her arm myself. The skin was torn almost from wrist to elbow and was cut pretty deep in some places, but she'd survive with a little Nectar. She was lucky. "She's okay. We should get that closed up."

"I'm fine," she dismissed me, already moving toward the door. "We need to get her. I don't know how that thing got in, but she saw everything."

I sighed through my nose but I'd figured as much. With a last glance behind her at the glittering dust covering the floor, I fell into step beside her.

Unsurprisingly, my mom had not waited outside cowering while I'd run inside to save my family from the horror within. She was with Carly when we entered the room, right there on the floor with her, holding her granddaughter to her as the nine-year old trembled in her arms. Ollie diligently stood guard over them. His ears perked up slightly when he saw us, and then he was off, hauling tail past us to ensure the threat really was gone.

His movement alerted Carly to our presence and at once, she was up off the floor and running for her mother. Annabeth reached out for her with one arm, keeping the other firmly cradled to her chest—probably more to keep the worst of it from her daughter than out of any real concern for it. "C'mere," she breathed, bending slightly and embracing her tightly with her good arm. "It's okay," she said into Carly's curls as the latter cried into her, "Shh. It's okay, honey. It's gone. It's okay."

Hardly ten seconds had passed. I was about to turn for the hallway and the linen closet where we kept the first-aid kit when my mom, already on her feet and moving, met my eyes. "Stay here," she ordered, "I've got it." After raising me, she could sniff out injuries like a bloodhound. I nodded my thanks. She laid a gentle hand on my arm as she passed.

Carly was still crying into Annabeth's shoulder, her arms locked around her neck in a death grip. "Shh," the latter murmured to her again and again, calming her.

"What was that?" Carly demanded now, her voice muddled with tears and muffled against her mother's shirt.

"It was a monster," Annabeth told her gently but honestly, her hand moving back and forth on her back, "It's gone now. It's okay."

Carly didn't say anything more, but her grip on Annabeth remained firm. I would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

The sobs had quieted by the time my mom walked back in with the medical supplies. Annabeth, aware of her return, met my eyes overtop our daughter's head. In them, I could read everything. She would let Carly go and she would see that she was bleeding. I needed to step in before that happened.

We probably should have told her earlier, but how was anyone supposed to know something like this would happen? We'd never been attacked in our own home before and we were always careful out in public. Especially with Carly. But everyone was okay and that was what mattered. Every half-blood had to learn the truth at some point. It was finally Carly's turn.

And despite how much I longed to keep my little girl young and innocent just a little longer, part of me was relieved at the thought.

"Come here, Peanut," I said softly, stepping forward and laying a hand on Carly's back. She let go of Annabeth and came easily. I wrapped my arms around her and stood, picking her up. She wrapped herself immediately around me.

With her granddaughter now out of Annabeth's arms, my mom moved forward to tend to her injury. The latter allowed her arm to be extended and examined. Carly gasped at the sight of the ugly wound, blood seeping slowly from it. I tightened my grip on her. "It's okay," I murmured as tears again welled in her green eyes. "Come on." I moved to take her out of the room, waving away the piece of Ambrosia my mom offered me.

"She's bleeding," Carly said shakily as I carried her toward the kitchen.

"She's okay," I assured her, "Grandma's got it."

Ollie was still in the dining room, pacing in agitation, sniffing with interest at the monster dust on the floor when he wasn't walking through it and creating an even bigger mess. I called his name, setting Carly atop the counter, and, with a last suspicious sniff at the floor, he trotted over. He stopped and brushed against her legs, draped over the cabinets, and nuzzled her as she brushed a bare foot over his head. I took the opportunity to look her over. "You okay?" I asked, brushing a lingering tear from her cheek, "You aren't hurt, are you?" She shook her head and her eyes once more wandered toward the living room. "She's okay," I reassured her once more, "You'll see. She'll come out in a minute and she'll be totally healed."

Carly looked like she didn't quite believe that. The face she gave me was distinctly Annabeth in nature. "Don't lie, Daddy," she said almost tiredly.

"I'm not," I promised, "Really. Just wait."

The nine-year old still didn't look convinced, but her attention had refocused now on the scattered glitter covering the dining room in golden paw prints. "There was a monster," she said calmly, her voice lined with the tiniest hint of doubt that fought against all she thought she knew to be true. Slowly, her green eyes travelled to land on me again. "I saw it."

I sighed and leaned against the counter beside her, "I know."

"It was a monster?" she repeated uncertainly.

I hesitated for a second, at war with myself. On one hand, I really wanted to wait for Annabeth to do this. We'd always handled telling our kids the truth together. But on the other, Carly needed answers now; she was scared and she deserved to know.

I forwent immediately answering her question in favor of telling her a story. I hoisted myself up on the counter next to her—an action that would probably get me reprimanded by Annabeth later—and started from the beginning: on that fateful day so many years ago now, before I learned the truth myself and everything changed. I didn't leave many details out, because she needed to know and because I knew she could handle it.

And handle it she did. Carly listened with rapt attention as I told her, in only slightly abbreviated detail, about the museum trip with my sixth grade class and what happened there, and then about the night we left for Camp Half-Blood from Montauk and the Minotaur attack that followed. She looked slightly alarmed at times, but was mostly just very interested in "What happened next?"

I was in the middle of recounting the frantic midnight race to camp with an angry Minotaur on our tails when my mom joined us in the kitchen, followed momentarily by Annabeth, who had exchanged her blood stained shirt for a clean one. My recount was interrupted just long enough for Carly to rush to her mother and see that she truly was free of all evidence of what had been a fairly serious injury, save for a fading pink line that now ran the length of her forearm. Upon this discovery, the nine-year old grew only more interested in the story I was telling and how it related both to the day's attack and her mother's miraculous recovery.

Annabeth, after raising an eyebrow at our current seating arrangements, moved our group to the kitchen table. The two joined in listening to my recount of everything; losing my mom, learning about the gods, the first quest, and then the second, the third. Annabeth joined in occasionally to expand on certain things for which she found my explanations lacking.

Start to finish—finish being the resolution of the Giant War, excluding any and all details about Tartarus for the time being, the story took ages to tell. After about an hour of listening on, my mom got up and busied herself in the kitchen putting together dinner and waving off all offers of help from Annabeth. We continued on through a meal of steak, potatoes, and green beans. Carly sat through the whole thing, captivated. The remnants of dinner were cleaned up when the tale reached its end.

"That's it?" she asked now from cross the table.

I blinked at her. "What do you mean, 'that's it?' We've been here for three hours."

"What happened then?" Carly pressed, like I'd left her hanging or something.

Annabeth spoke up from beside her with an amused smile. "We finished school and went to college and then got married. And then we had you and your brothers."

"And then you lived happily ever after but still had to fight monsters," she supplied. I narrowed my eyes.

"Yes," said Annabeth easily. I exhaled a resigned laugh. I just didn't understand women at times—a lot of the time actually.

Carly smiled and considered that, apparently satisfied with this conclusion. "So Logan and Nicky are at that camp now?" she asked. We nodded. "They know everything?"

I nodded again while Annabeth replied, "They found out like you did." This was essentially true. We'd tried to shield all our kids from everything for as long as we could.

"They couldn't tell me," she said simply. It wasn't an accusation or a complaint, just a reasoned fact. Annabeth and I exchanged a glance at the slight insinuation in her tone—it clearly wasn't lost on her that she was the last to know, but Carly didn't seem to require answer to this comment. She looked between us and changed the subject again. "So that monster that was here before," she began, "What was that?"

"That was an empousa," Annabeth answered her, "They're kind of like vampires. They like to attack your dad," She cast me a sidelong glance at this, her tone turning slightly begrudging. Admittedly, it seemed Kelly and her friends had made it a personal mission of theirs to find me every time one of them reformed. My mom's exhaled laugh sounded from somewhere behind me as she puttered around the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner after having informed Annabeth numerous times that she currently had more important responsibilities.

"They like to try," I corrected dryly

"But you… kill them," Carly confirmed, "Right?" She spoke haltingly, like she couldn't quite imagine me killing anything, even evil, blood-sucking demons from the pit of Tartarus itself. I could only nod. She mimicked the action, looking thoughtful and turned to Annabeth again. "And you killed the one before?"

"Yes," Annabeth said softly.

Carly looked contemplative for another moment, "So that time when Logan came home dirty and bloody, he fought a monster too? And that day with Hannah at the lake—" Her eyes widened then and she looked between us, "Hannah saw the monster then. But she doesn't know…"

"Yes, she does," Annabeth said with a small smile, "Hannah's a half-blood too."

The nine-year old's eyes widened. "She is?" At her mother's nod, she added, "Did she move here on purpose then?" I smiled.

"No," Annabeth laughed, "She didn't know until after that."

"Does she go to camp too?"

"Not Camp Half-Blood. She's a Roman demigod so she goes to Camp Jupiter in California."

"So… like Emily and Sammy?"

"Right." Annabeth nodded.

Carly digested this information while still more questions danced behind her eyes. She seemed slightly overwhelmed, as she had every right to be. "You okay, Carly?" I asked gently, eyeing her.

She didn't answer at first and then, quietly, she asked, "Am I going to have to fight monsters now?"

Annabeth and I once again exchanged glances across the table. I turned my eyes on our daughter again. "Probably," I said quietly, "But not anytime soon if I can help it."

"We'll keep you safe," Annabeth told her tenderly, "Just like we always have. You just didn't know we were before." She reached out and brushed a loose strand behind her ear. "And one day, you'll know how to fight them yourself and you won't even need us to."

"But you'll still protect me anyway," she guessed.

I chuckled. "Until our dying breaths, kiddo." Annabeth smiled at me from beside her.

"Do I get to go to camp now too?" Carly wanted to know, "With Logan and Nicky?"

"You certainly do," Annabeth answered her. The tiniest glint of nostalgia crossed her gray eyes as she did and I knew the thought of sending our youngest off to camp was a heavy one for her as well.

Carly nodded. "Okay." She didn't say anything further.

"That's it?" I asked, "No more questions?" I didn't believe that for a second.

She shrugged and shifted in her seat, her innate restlessness apparently getting the best of her finally. "Not right now," she answered reasonably.

"Okay," Annabeth said lightly from beside her. I recognized as she did that Carly, wise as she was, had drawn her line in the sand for the night. She was nine years old and we'd just dumped a lot on her. If she'd had enough for now, that was that. The conversation was over for the time being. "What do you want to do?"

She shrugged a small shoulder and then looked up. "Play a game?" she asked.

Annabeth smirked at her. "Go pick one."

With a grin, Carly stood to leave the kitchen, calling for my mom to come help her decide. We watched them go in silence. When they'd disappeared around the corner, I turned my eyes on Annabeth. A thought had been gnawing at me for some time now.

"Speaking of empousai," I said and continued as she raised an eyebrow, "I've never seen one attack you by yourself. I know they hate us both, but they normally only prey on men… Why'd she go after you?"

"Because she was looking for you, Seaweed Brain," she answered easily, "I wasn't about to let her get that far."

I smirked. "Of course you weren't."

"I am your wife, remember?" she said lightly, "Until my dying breath." She grinned. "But if you prefer, next time I'll invite her in and serve her lemonade until you get home." Her eyes sparkled as she looked at me, even after the roller coaster of the past few hours, and I could only laugh.


Thanks for reading!