Petunia licked her lips, twirling the stem of a bellflower between her fingers.

The halfblood that was escorting her to some place called the Big House kept glancing at her and looking a little...confused. The others had looked confused that she had stopped to pick flowers.

They didn't understand.

She didn't need them to understand.

"What was your name again?"

"Petunia. Nia for short."

"Right, well, how much do you know about who you are?"

"Everything. Well, except which goddess is my mom. Grady said he had his suspicions about who she is, but he never told me." She picked an Aster. Tiny beginnings from which great things proceed.

"And the flowers?"

"Every flower has a meaning, some from times of ancient Greece, and some more recent. Victorian ages were important times for flowers, the meanings were designated and fleshed out. I take flowers as signs. It's no different than people who believe that breaking a mirror is…" Huh…bellflowers were said to have been born from the shards of a broken mirror. "Bad example. But it's like stepping on the cracks, or black cats. It's my own personal superstition."

"You're superstitious?" He asked. She?

Petunia really wasn't sure and frankly she was afraid to ask. You never knew how sensitive people were. "Um, yeah. A little."

"What do you think is the most powerful flower?" What had s/he said their name was?

"I think it depends on the person. For me…rosemary. Not the flower, the herb. It means remembrance. There are others that are good as well, but that's always seemed most powerful for me."

"What about me? What would you say my flower or plant would be?"

"Lotus," Nia said, almost without thinking about it. "Flower of mystery, truth, purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration, and rebirth."

The halfblood looked at her with interest. "That's an interesting choice. Why'd you pick it?"

"Gut feeling," She shrugged. "You seem like a person who likes mystery. So, who's your parent?"

"Hebe, goddess of youth."

"And what was your name again?"

"Jamie," Jamie answered in a completely unhelpful way. He or she pointed to the house they were coming upon. "This is the Big House, I'll introduce you to Chiron. You said that your satyr died?"

"Grady, yeah. He was defending me. I should have protected him better." Nia tucked the flowers into her pocket. She felt nausious. If she had been stronger, Grady would be alive.

"They know the dangers of their job." Jamie put a hand on Nia's shoulder in a reassuring way. "I'm sure he thought you were worth the sacrifice."

"He'll have to be planted…" Nia said softly, looking at the ground. "I was still under attack when he died."

"I'll talk to Grover about a recovery mission." Jamie gently urged Nia on. "You're safe now and I'm sure you'll be claimed quickly. You give off some…pretty specific vibes."

"I do?" Nia's heart jumped.

"Yeah," Jamie shrugged. "I would say Demeter."

She knew it wasn't right. "Oh, I don't think so."

Jamie gave her a curious look. "So sure?"

"Yeah…I'm sure. It doesn't sound right." She rubbed her arms, then followed Jamie up the porch steps and into the house.

There was a man in the wheelchair sitting by a couch, talking to two teenage guys. The man looked young, but also impossibly old. His eyes tired looking.

The teenage boys, one tall and blond that looked like a surfer put on nurse's shirt and one short with dark hair.

The shorter one looked at her.

She took a step back, her heart starting to race. This place couldn't be safe.

He frowned. "You…don't…you…" He stepped back. "You're a daughter of…you shouldn't exist…"

Jamie put a protective hand on Nia's shoulder. "Nico, kind of takes one to know one."

"You don't understand." Nico looked nervous.

"Nico, she's unclaimed. Don't jump to conclusions. You're scaring her." The blond took Nico's hand.

"Mr. Di Angelo, if you have a theory, we can hear it but until she's claimed we have no reason to worry." The man in the wheelchair rolled himself forward. "What is your name?"

"Petunia Green," She answered, almost in a whisper.

"She's a daughter of Persephone." Nico's sentence seemed to make the light leave the room.

The man in the chair, he must have been Chiron, looked like he dreaded the very idea. "Let us pray you're wrong."