Hey guys! Just got home so now getting back into the real world. Yay... at least now I have better wifi and my own space (kinda). Good luck to all those starting (or who have *cringe* already started). Might be uploading a one shot that is school themed for ya'll, but you know me. No promises. Might get distracted by my cat.

Comments:

merendinoemiliano : Once again, a very special thanks goes out to you. I would never have continued this without your support and, as evidenced by the last chapter upload I tried to do, would have made even more stupid mistakes. Thank you so much! Sorry the last chapter was kinda crappy. I was on vacation and wanted to get something up. But I know that I shouldn't post something crappy just for an upload. Sorry! I hope this one is better. i added a lot of additional comments and backstory for Carla. I got your PM btw, but when I tried to respond it said your inbox is full... I love the idea! I really like the characters of Artemis and Annabeth, but I'll have to do some research on betrayal fics, because I have never read one XD. Not my cup of tea. Thank you so much for the request, and I will work on getting it up ASAP.

Carla

My eyes flew open and my heart pounded against my chest as I sat up in bed. Groping around my arms and legs, I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I was corporeal this time. I didn't know if you could die in a dream, but it sure felt like I had come close.

My skin felt hot and uncomfortable, like a bad sunburn, as if the fiery woman had actually began to roast me. I shifted painfully and heard a soft hiss in argument. Startled, I looked down and realized that there was a cat curled up on my lap.

Cupcake glared at me, before kneeding my leg and settling back down.

"How did you get in?" I muttered, stroking his back. "Why aren't you with Samuel?"

I looked around at the room and for a second I wasn't sure where I was. Some hotel in another city? Doubtful. We never stayed anyplace this nice. One time I had gotten fed up with barely livable spaces, and offered to pick up odd jobs for more money. Mom denied me, muttering something about 'too many people'. Something that never made sense to me at the time.

I almost called for my Mom.. then the events of the past 24 hours came flashing back to me.. The museum. The sarcophagus. Mom was gone. It all crashed down on me so hard I could barely breathe. My chest constricted painfully and my vision swam.

'Stop', I told myself. 'You don't have time to panic. Your mother is gone, so you must do everything you can to get her back. Breaking down won't help.'

It must have been a projection of my Mom or someone else, but the voice in my head almost sounded like a different person—older, stronger, if not slightly colder. Either it was a good sign, or I was going crazy. Or maybe it was all the result of drinking Ginger Ale before bed.

'Remember the dream', the voice urged. 'She's after you and Samuel. You must be ready.'

I shivered and pulled the blankets tighter around me. I wanted desperately to believe it was all a bad dream, but I knew better. My dreams didn't usually have color, much less leave behind the feeling that the fiery woman had. The last day was proof enough that crazier things could happen. For goodness sake, I had cracked open a wall without touching it. Somehow, I'd actually left my body while I slept, and been to Phoenix—thousands of miles away.

The fiery woman was there and was plotting something catastrophic. I hadn't understood much of what she'd said, but she'd talked about sending forces to capture the younglings. Gee, wonder who they could be? If it wasn't a sign of my imminent death, I would have laughed at the Star Wars-like terms being used to describe Samuel and I.

Cupcake jumped off the bed and sniffed at the ivory headrest, looking between me and the floor before tilting his head.

"You can have it," I told him. "It's uncomfortable to sleep on." He nipped at my toe and stared at me accusingly.

"Mrow."

"Whatever, cat."

I got up and opened the third door in my room, revealing a decently sized bathroom. I looked through the cabinets and found my usual brand of soap in a new package. I stepped into the shower, and reveled a bit in the hot water and decent water pressure. Both were rarities to me.

The towels were white and fluffy, but a look in the closet provided clothes much different than what I was used to—baggy drawstring pants and loose shirts, all plain white linen, and robes for cold weather. I recognized the garbs as something the fellahin, or the peasants in Egypt, wear. The pajama-like attire wasn't exactly my style, but my clothes from yesterday seemed to have disappeared. Forced to change or walk out in a towel, I started dressing in the white clothes, cringing internally at the strangeness.

Samuel likes to tell me that I don't have a sense of style. He complains that I dress like an old librarian— blouse, slacks or long shirt, and flats. No jewelry (except for my amulet of course), and may all the gods help me if I wore makeup. Maybe it was true. I often wore my hair up and out of my face in order to read better, which did little to change that impression.

But there was a reason for it. From the day I was born, my mother instilled in me the need to always dress my best. Her commitment to the cause had only gotten stronger after Dad died and we were separated from Samuel. For this reason, some people thought that she was doing it to impress other guys and get another husband. But Mom never got over Dad, so I knew that wasn't true.

I remember the first time she explained it to me. I was ten. We were desperately trying to catch a flight out a airport in Athens, and it was more than 112 degrees outside. My feat ached from running in flats and my clothes felt constricting. I was complaining that I wanted to wear shorts and a T-shirt. Why couldn't I be comfortable? We weren't going anywhere important that day—just traveling.

My mother slowed down and smoothed the pieces of hair hanging in my face back. "Carla, you're getting older now, and becoming less of a child and more of a young lady. You're an African American and you will be a woman. People will judge you more harshly, even if you do no wrong. So you must always look respectable and behave just as much."

"That isn't fair!" I insisted.

"Fairness does not mean everyone gets the same," Mom explained. "Fairness means everyone gets what they need. And the only way to get what you need is to make it happen yourself. You cannot rely on someone else to do something for you, not even me. Do you understand?"

I admitted that I didn't, and she sighed before starting to walk again.

But despite my lack of understanding, I still I did all I could to follow her instructions. So, from that point on, I did whatever she asked—like caring about Egypt, and basketball, and music. Like traveling with only one suitcase. I dressed the way Mom wanted me to because Mom was almost always right. In fact, I'd never known her to be wrong...until the night at the British Museum.

I shook my head and finished putting on the linen clothes. The slipper shoes were comfortable, but based on the way I was sliding around the floor, I doubted they'd be much good to run in. I looked around an realized the door to Samuel's room was ajar. i gave a knock on the frame before looking in, but he wasn't there. Thankfully, after turning the handle, I realized my bedroom door wasn't locked anymore either.

Cupcake joined me as I attempted to retrace my steps from last night. We passed almost a hundred unoccupied bedrooms on the way. Just the sleeping portion of the mansion was the size of a small hotel, but despite the soft colors and homey accents made it feel empty and sad. I got the distinct impression that, besides Amos, not a single soul had entered this building in years. I had never seen a building look so cleaned and yet so abandoned.

When we reached the Great Room, I saw Khufu the baboon on the sofa with a basketball between her legs and a piece of oddly shaped meat in her hands. Both it and her mouth was covered in pink feathers. ESPN was on the television, the highlights from the games the night before playing on a loop.

"Hey," I said, though I felt a little weird talking to her, like a crazy old cat lady. "Lakers win?"

Khufu looked at me and patted her basketball like she wanted a game. "Agh, agh." She grunted, offering the ball to me. She had a pink feather hanging from her mouth, coated in saliva and... [Nope. Just the thought of it is making my stomach roll. Moving on.]

"Um, yeah," I said, skirting awkwardly around her. "We'll play later, okay?"

I could see Samuel and Amos out on the terrace, eating breakfast by the pool. December in New York should've made it impossible to eat out there without your juice freezing. But there was a fire pit blazing, and neither Amos nor Samuel looked cold, chatting amicably.

I started to head their way, then hesitated in front of the statue of Thoth. In the soft daylight, the bird-headed goddess seemed less intimidating, almost caring. Still, I could swear those beady eyes were watching me, almost judging my actions. What had the woman said last night? Something along the lines of getting to us before our powers developed.

It sounded ridiculous, but for a moment I felt a surge of strength- the same kind of feeling I got last night when I created a door. My blood tingled under my skin like I had drank an entire pot of coffee mixed with some energy drinks. My head swam with imagined power. I felt like I could lift anything, even this two ton statue. In a kind of trance, I gave into the temptation and stepped forward. My hand was just starting to raise when Cupcake nipped at my ankles through my thin pants.

As soon as my concentration wavered, the feeling dissolved. My arms felt like noodles and I shook them out. "You're right," I told the cat, shaking my head as well. "Stupid idea." How had I ever thought that would work? I've had trouble carrying some of my Mother's thicker books, not that they were particularly light either. [Shut up, Sam! No I am not a wimp!]

Besides, the smell of breakfast wafted in though a window. French toast, bacon, hot chocolate— my stomach grumbled and I couldn't blame Muffin for being in a hurry. I took one last look back at the statues before turning and following the cat out.

Yay! Another (partial) chapter! Next one I am going to work on is another Sanubis oneshot and a *gasp* Supernatural oneshot. Both are gonna be based on songs, because I've spend over 9 hours in the car listening to the radio and thought of cool ideas to go with some. Please let me know if you have any ideas about how to improve this fic, or requests for other ones!

Good luck going back to school!

Cat