I can't say that much happened during the journey with the sisters Graeae, simply because there barely was any time!
These three served out of control around the country, going from Florida all the way up to new York, in what must have been record time (It wasn't - Apollo had exceeded this speed millennia earlier with the Sun chariot). I'd love to describe at least the sensation of travelling at such a high G-force, but I'm aware that some readers may have just finished a nice meal that they don't particularly want to see again.
Since our fee had already been covered, we got out of the taxi with our only worry being to keep our organs from wrenching. At least Carlos seemed a little better than me, given that he was able to speak much sooner.
'So do we just… cross the archway?' he wondered. 'Hey, I can read that sign! Camp Half-Blood! Normally I have trouble with that.'
'Ancient… Greek…' I mumbled. 'Will explain… later. CHIRON!'
It seemed that our mentor was already waiting nearby for our return, something he frequently did for new arrivals or campers returning from dangerous quests. In our case, both circumstances applied.
Carlos looked at me as Chiron made his way up to us in his wheelchair form.
'Is he also - ?'
'Oh, I'm saving you that surprise for later,' I smiled.
'Come, Carlos,' beckoned Chiron. 'I shall show you to the Big House!'
…
I'll spare you details of Carlos' induction into Camp Half-Blood. Other than Mr D not vaporising him on the spot for his snarky dismissive attitude when introduced to him, nothing extraordinary happened (by our standards). Chiron revealed his centaur form, Carlos glared at me in shock, I laughed my head off.
None of us dared bring up the Great Prophecy, which was the whole reason he got me as an escort in the first place, but Carlos was too done with the day to care about anything else that day. We both parted ways to our cabins, munched on some ambrosia and wait for nightfall to sleep.
His introductory days at camp went about as horribly as they could. His brute strength spared him the traditional head-in-toilet greeting from the Ares children and they subsequently stayed away from him.
In fact, everyone stayed away from him. There was something about him that made everyone feel uncomfortable, making him want to be there even less. One night, I even caught him trying to escape and only just manged to trap and slay the giant scorpion that would have otherwise eaten him.
I did eventually tell Chiron and Mr D the reason I thought he was struggling to fit in, still hoping I was wrong. Mr D, of course, didn't give the slightest toss, but Chiron shook his head and replied 'Let us hope it is not the case.'
But with every passing day, I grew more certain, which is why I began a secret project with a bunch of satyrs and dryads, but I'll talk more about that later.
It had been about two weeks since our unceremonious arrival. My sister, Lavender Morse, came in to summon Cabin Four to dinner, like she always did. By this point most of the others were back and quizzing me on my mission. My only question is what had happened to Jeffrey. The whole time he had not returned from Jacksonville. For a lone satyr, that was thoroughly unusual.
Chiron was singing by the campfire with everyone else in his true form. Carlos had still not been claimed, and was thus still referred to the Hermes cabin and was sat with them.
I was half expecting it when it happened, since a lot of gods claim their children around dinner time. Harris Bogden was in the middle of conducting a choir of Apollo students in his experimental mashup of Bohemian Rhapsody and Dies Irae. We'd all just gotten our main course and were taking turns sacrificing our best portions to the Olympians. Again, Carlos' disapproving look of confusion made me feel for the poor boy. When he got up, he strolled over like he'd just been forced into time out.
Around a sweltering crescendo, the fire swelled and rose higher than naturally. Carlos was at the front of the queue about to tip part of his plate. The ground around him crackled and black smoke rose above him. He was engulfed in the fumes, which morphed about him into the shape of a skull bearing a sinister helmet above it.
The smoke cleared by dispersing outwards. Several campers screamed. Philippa Montes fainted on the spot. Jeremy Vince gawked without being able to produce a sound.
Meanwhile, Carlos stood there, his piercing eyes momentarily vacant and his entire physique radiating the energy of death.
Sometimes I hate when I'm right about things, because when I am sometimes all Hades breaks loose.