Fur. Blood. Ash.
These things had haunted my nightmares for months after the accident before I finally resorted to taking sedatives.
None had bothered me at camp, even without the medication. Here I dreamed of monsters and magic.
But now, trapped in the darkness of unconsciousness, with a world of questions waiting for me when I awoke, the nightmares returned.
It started off normal. It always does.
I trudged through the rain, hunched over as I walked towards my house. I rushed under the dry safety of the porch awning and peeled off my soaked jacket.
I pushed open the door, expecting to see my mom waiting with a hug and questions about my day. I always pretended to hate it, but now I'd do anything do see her again.
She wasn't there, despite her car in the driveway and her stuff on the table. I headed upstairs, peeking into her bedroom. Light spilled out from under the door, and I heard a soft voice coming from inside. She must be on the phone.
I turned to head back downstairs when a piercing scream broke out. I rushed into her room, ripping open the door and running straight into a wall of fur.
"Mom?" I yelled, panicking.
"Celeste? Run!"
I pounded on the fur blocking the doorway. "What's going on? I'm not leaving you!"
"Just go!" Her shout was cut off by another scream of pain. I pounded harder on the wall, desperately shouting her name, but there were no more responses.
I fell to my knees, my voice jagged, tears streaming down my face. I gave the door another weak punch, nearly giving up. Then it moved.
The dark-haired beast turned to face me, it's maw dripping with blood. Her blood. Her body was so mangled it was almost unrecognizable, but her arm was outstretched, reaching for the doorway. Reaching for me.
My stomach rolled with nausea, from anger or fear I couldn't tell. I clutched my stomach, lunging for the corpse, tears blurring my vision.
"You monster!" I shouted at the thing behind me, clutching her hand. It couldn't understand me. I knew that, but ration and reason had left me alone.
I waited for it to strike. It had been so ruthless with her, that I thought it would be pointless to fight.
The blow never came.
I turned, around to see…nothing. The thing was gone. Had I imagined it?
No.
The feel of sticky wet blood on my hands had to be real. It had gone somewhere.
I sprinted out of the room, rushing downstairs, searching for it. Every fiber of my being should want to run far away from that thing, but I could only feel anger.
It had taken my mother form me. It would pay.
I crashed into the landing, finding nothing but a perfect living room. Too perfect. Everything should be dark and dim. My mom was dead.
The anger rushed over me again. I took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm down. Anger makes you stupid, I reminded myself. Just breathe.
The smell of blood overpowered my nostrils, not just coming from upstairs this time.
I was too late.
I sped around the corner, seeing the monster leaning over my father, a mirror image to the one upstairs. His crumpled body lay on the floor, his suit stained with blood.
Blood roared in my ears. I wanted to lunge at this thing, to take it's life like it had taken theirs, but that was impossible. I couldn't kill it. I didn't even know what it was.
So I sunk to my knees, waiting for it to sink its teeth into my throat, to bring me to join them. It strode towards me, its snarling fangs still dripping with blood. Inches from my face, it roared, washing a way of foul-smelling air over me.
I didn't even flinch.
I had given up. I just wanted the monster to kill me already, to end this nightmare. But it never did.
I opened my eyes, which I hadn't realized I had squeezed shut, to see the wolf still growling in my face. It looked like it desperately wanted to rake its claws across my skin, so what was stopping it?
It tilted its head to the side, like it had heard a noise. Then, it padded away from me, its eyes still shining with malice.
"What?"
It growled one last time, before turning around and diving into the shadows. My vision swam. What just happened?
The thing had left me in silence, with only my racing heartbeat for company.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
The world gave me three heartbeats to catch my breath. Three heartbeats, then the house exploded.
I bolted upright with a gasp, panicking when I saw my surroundings. I was back in the hospital.
My breathing turned ragged, nearly sending me spiraling back into unconsciousness. My stomach heaved, though there was nothing in it to throw up.
I forced myself to take a deep breath. There was no broken glass embedded in my feet, no salves coating third degree burns. The room was silent. There were no machines beeping, or whispers coming from outside.
This was no mortal hospital. I was at Camp Half-Blood. I was safe.
I let my head fall back to the pillow, finally acknowledging that I was exhausted. There was still pain in my arm, but it had faded to a deep throb.
I could barely move. It felt like my soul was aching.
"Will?" My throat felt like sandpaper, and my voice sounded like it hadn't been used in days. Maybe it hadn't.
I heard a gasp from right next to me, and I managed to turn my stiff neck towards it. Will was slouched in a chair next to me, rubbing his eyes.
He shot up, wide awake when he saw my eyes were open, and began peppering me with rapid-fire questions. "Are you okay? How's your arm? Are you thirsty? Do you need—"
I tried to raise my hand to stop him, but my arm erupted in pain when I tried to use it. The second I winced he was at my bedside, gently unwrapping the bandages around my upper arm.
He pulled them off my skin, revealing the ugly purple wound adorning my skin. I nearly threw up again at the grotesque sight, though I still had nothing in my stomach.
"Yeah, it's not very pretty," Will noted at my gagging. "You should've seen it before."
"What is it?" I asked, though I already had a phantom idea of what it was.
"Kronos' scythe. There were a couple injuries from it back during the Titan War. One touch is supposed to sever your soul from you body, but you still seem to have one."
I snorted, grimacing when the movement jostled my arm. "Tell that to the campers. They probably think I'm some kind of demon. Especially now that I've been claimed by…" My voice trailed off, as I refused to think about the events of last night.
"Hey, if you were a demon, I wouldn't be changing your bandages."
"Gee, thanks."
"I'm giving you a compliment!" he insisted, pulling the wrappings tight. "Besides, demons can't be choosers."
It was meant as a light-hearted jab, but it hit a little too close to home.
Home.
Did I have one anymore? Or had my father ruined it for me? The other campers would hate me now, being the daughter of a Titan. How did I even exist? It was impossible, wasn't it?
"Celeste?" Will's voice was soft, pushing through the questions I had. A small reassurance, but it was all I needed.
"I'm fine." Answers could wait. They could at least wait until I could move.
Will raised an eyebrow at me, knowing me a bit too well, even in two short months. But he let it go. He helped me sit up, leaning me against the pillows. "Okay. I think Piper's gonna kill me if I don't let her in soon. Think you can handle it?"
I nodded, too many questions racing through my head to do anything else.
"You can come in!" Will called towards the door. Instantly it burst open, Piper rushed through, five other people walking behind her. Well, four people and one horse.
She was at my bedside in an instant, her arms stretched out like she wanted to hug me, but Will blocked the bedside. She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you're okay."
"Why?"
She froze, a puzzled look appearing on her face. "What do you mean, why?"
"Aren't I practically the spawn of Satan to this camp?" It sure seemed like it. Annabeth was pacing back and forth, muttering to herself, while Jason stood protectively at Piper's side, like I was going to attack them. Leo stood off to the side, fiddling with his jacket, and Rachel and Chiron conversed quietly by the door.
"What? Why would you think that?"
"Have you heard the whispers?"
"Okay, well maybe you're not everyone's favorite," She paused while I snorted and gave me a glare. "Especially after the campfire two days ago, but—"
"Two days?"
"Yeah, it knocked you out good," Will said, yawning as he pulled out a jar of yellow paste. "Now hold still." The thing reeked as he smeared it on my arm. I definitely didn't want to know what it was.
"Anyways," Piper continued, looking mildly annoyed at all the interruptions. "They'll come around. I'll make sure they do."
She sounded so determined, it was almost enough to make me smile. Almost.
"Thanks." I said, forcing a happy tone. "But can we talk about what happened at the campfire? I mean, I was claimed by Kronos, but that's impossible, right? He was only around for a year before you defeated him."
Annabeth stopped her pacing to face me. "That's what we're trying to figure out. It seems impossible with your current story, but…" Her voice trailed off as she went back to pacing.
Rachel stepped up to my bed. "We think your memories might be…" She mumbled the rest, making it impossible for me to hear.
"What?" I asked, a wave of anger washing over me at the prospect of another accusation. "What might my memories be?"
"Like mine," Piper answered. "And Leo's. Of Jason. When we were at the Wilderness School."
"You mean fake."
She bit her lip and gave the tiniest nod, but it was enough.
I leaned forward to say something, but exhaustion passed over me, sending me flopping back against the pillows. The movement jolted my arm, sending a fresh wave of pain through my body.
"Can't this wait till she can move?" Will asked, staring right at Chiron.
"I'm afraid it can't. We could have another prophecy on our hands."
"What are you talking about? How am I—" A surge of nausea washed over me, my stomach trying for the third time to expel its nonexistent contents.
"Y'all need to leave. She's not well enough for this conversation."
I managed to lift my head, my nausea fading slightly. "No, I want to know what they're talking about. Why would you think my memories were fake? How would my memories be fake?"
"We don't know." Rachel answered gently. "But we think—"
"What's your mom's name?" Annabeth interrupted.
"What? Why does that matter?"
"Just answer it!" She nearly shouted, her stormy eyes blazing.
"Ashley. But what does this have to do with anything?"
"Her maiden name?"
"Perry." Before I could question anything else, she'd already began interrogating me again.
"What's your dad's name?"
"It's—" I froze. The thing that had seemed so solid in my mind just moments before was gone. No amount of grasping got my memory to return.
"You said you lived with both your parents before the accident. What was your dad's name?"
"I—I don't remember." How could I not remember?
Gasps filled the room as everyone stilled. Annabeth's thoughts didn't slow though, and she kept on speculating.
"That must mean they're fake. There's no other explanation!" How could she sound so happy while she shattered the one good thing in my life to pieces?
"No. No, no, no. That's impossible."
"Is it?" Piper asked, much more gently than Annabeth as she knelt next to the cot. "What else do you really remember?"
She shouldn't have asked that. Having me plunge into my memories was like asking me to walk through a minefield. But I needed answers. So, I closed my eyes and remembered.
I remembered being half conscious as I lay on the ground outside my house, dazed with pain. I recalled waking up in the hospital, and the endless weeks that followed. Poor girl, they always said. Parents gone way too soon.
The images flew by faster in my head. My first night in a foster home, spent gagging over the sink as I desperately tried to rid my mouth of the taste of ash. The cuts and bruises, from bullies and foster siblings, thugs in the street, and even a few guardians.
I could remember the first time I ran away. And the second and third. I could recall every social worker's name and face, every foster parent I'd ever had.
But all the memories had one thing in common. They were from after the accident. Were they right?
My eyes flickered open, leaving me swaying. I felt like I had whiplash.
"So?"
"I—" My voice choked on emotion. "I can't remember anything from before the accident. But that's probably just—"
"Proof! It has to be proof," Annabeth insisted.
"But I—I have a scar. On my knee. I—I was seven, and I fell out of a tree." I ripped the sheets off my legs. When I looked closer, the skin was smooth. No trace of a scar.
My breathing turned ragged as I desperately searched for anything to prove them wrong.
My hands grasped for my ears. "For my tenth birthday my mom she—she took me to get my ears pierced." There were no piercings in my ears. There never were.
The other people in the room dove back into conversation, but I heard none of it. Everything had faded to a dull buzz, and my vision swam. My heart raced as my mind acted like a broken record.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't see, or hear. I was helpless to the cold waves of panic that washed over me. I wanted to sob, but I could barely feel my face.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
The only real thing in my life was tragedy. Why should I return to the land of the living? All that was waiting for me were questions and pain. All I had left were questions and pain.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
I could tell someone was trying to free me from the shroud of fear around me. They wouldn't succeed. I was trapped, with no will or energy to escape.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
I barely felt anything until someone grabbed my chin. They pulled my head to the side, speaking in a soothing voice. I couldn't hear their words, but their soothing tone dispelled the fear and quieted the voices, if only slightly. But they were still there.
Fake.
Fake.
Fake.
The voice kept going, calming my nerves, and bringing me back to reality. My mysterious savior's relaxing droning slowly turned to actual words.
"It'll be okay. You said you only remember stuff from after the accident, right? So what's something you remember? Something good."
I racked my brain to answer their question, to panicked to realize they were trying to distract me. "I—" I hiccupped with a sob, my breathing refusing to slow.
"Hey, it's okay," the voice said. "Take your time."
"I used to steal my—" I wanted to say brother, but that was wrong. "My friends donut every morning." A small smile appeared on my face at the memory of Gavin.
"That's good. That's good. Anything else?"
"I—" Oh gods. I couldn't think of another good memory. I nearly slipped away again. I forced myself to focus of the feeling of the persons hand on my chin, refusing to let myself go back there. "I like walking in the woods. Since—since Piper showed me around."
The joy washed over me, pushing away the panic and fear. I had lots of good memories, they were just from my time at camp. If I ignored the whispers and rumors, this had been the best time of my life.
"There you go," the voice said. "Feel better?"
I slowly opened my eyes, not even realizing I had closed them. The person holding my chin wasn't anyone I knew. I knew of him, but he barely came out of his workshop.
Leo Valdez.
He gently lowered his hand when he saw I'd opened my eyes. "Sorry. I know you don't like touch, you were just panicking and—"
"It's fine. I…thanks."
I forced myself to meet the others eyes. "So…what now?"
It was better to keep moving. I couldn't let the horrors I'd faced catch up with me.
"Now," Chiron said, a grim look on his face. "We have to decide what to do with you."