A/N: I still don't own the Greek Gods. But if I did...well, that would be pretty cool.

Chapter Two

Zoey

Saiorse didn't let go of Zoey's hand until they'd crossed the entire Pheasant Lane parking lot and walked half a mile down the crowded, city sidewalk. Even then, she wouldn't answer any questions.

At first, being ignored didn't bother Zoey; to be honest, after the obvious "Who are you?" had been answered, she was much too numb to wonder anything else. She didn't really mind that a stranger was dragging her away from her car and her laptop: after all, this stranger had saved her life. As far as she was concerned, the most important question was how fastest to get away from the mall.

But as they left the line of outlying shops and restaurants behind, Zoey began to feel nervous. She had been attacked once today and wasn't about to face-off again with this "demigod" and her fire-breathing kitten. Even if they weren't a threat, she wanted to know what was happening before they dragged her to their Freakish Pet Convention or Great War or whatever.

"What was that wolf thing?" she asked.

"I'll tell you in a moment," was Saiorse's response.

"Okay, but why was it attacking me?" Zoey tried again.

"I'll tell you in a moment."

"Right, but what was the 'Great War' it was talking about? And, speaking of which, why could it talk at all?"

"I will tell you in a moment," the other girl hissed.

"What's a demigod?"

This was the point at which Saiorse let go of her hand, eyes changing color yet again as they landed on Zoey. They were dark green now, almost black, and had narrowed into an mask of exasperation. She seemed reluctant to stop walking –– and, despite her misgivings, Zoey couldn't exactly blame her –– but she did slow her pace significantly.

"Demigods," the girl explained, "Are half-god, half-human. That means your mother or father was a deity. There are different types of gods," she counted off on her hands, "Egyptian, Roman, Native American. But, in your case, you're the daughter of a Greek god"

Zoey's feet stuttered to a halt.

"Excuse me?" she replied.

Her first thought was that this girl was joking, that the wolf attack and subsequent explanation were some sort of elaborate prank, set up by her friends or her father. Even if it wasn't, maybe the stress of the situation had made Saiorse go a little cuckoo. Maybe the girl was one of those mythology nerds, like Jaime from World History, and she was using her interest as a coping mechanism. Maybe she'd been so disturbed by the mutant wolf that she was resorting to nonsense. Or maybe she'd meant that all as a metaphor. Maybe she was just saying it sarcastically, to be mean.

No matter what the explanation, there was no way it was true. Zoey, half god? Please. She could barely walk down the school hallway without tripping and this Genius Bar employee expected her to believe she was descended from –– what were the Greek god's names, again? –– Zeus or Hera? She hardly had the strength of twenty men, just ask the girls on her gym class volleyball team. And weren't demigods supposed to be, you know, beautiful? Hercules certainly had been, and that Perseus guy. Zoey wasn't bad-looking; in fact, on most days, she considered herself perfectly decent. Her shoulder-length hair was glossy, brown, and almost never frizzed and her eyes were a nice shade of auburn. She looked good in skirts and her light skin let her wear whatever color she wanted. So, yes, Zoey was relatively pretty. But demigod pretty? Ha.

Still, Saiorse had the same annoyed expression as she stopped in the center of the sidewalk, forcing oblivious passersby to walk around her. "I know it's hard to believe," she said. "Trust me, I've been in your position. But it's true. You're a demigod. That's why that thing attacked you. It could smell you. So please hurry along before something else picks up your scent."

Still, Zoey didn't move. I could smell it from miles away, she remembered the monster saying. But that didn't mean anything, did it? They were just crazy words to fit in with this crazy day and this crazy, myth-obsessed girl.

"That's impossible," she said, finally. "Everyone knows those gods are just stories. That's why they're called Greek myths. They're made-up."

"Made up," Saiorse repeated, flecks of gold appearing in her dark eyes. "All right. How do you explain Fenrir, if all those myths are just made-up?"

"I don't know," Zoey admitted. "That's what I want you to tell me."

"And that's what I'm trying to do!" Saiorse's impatience finally got the better of her and she let out a high-pitched scream of frustration. "Please," she said, after a moment, her voice painfully calm. "I can't explain this properly, but I know someone who can. If you'll just come with me, I promise to take you to him. For the moment, though, I just want to keep you safe. Isn't that what you want?" She stared, her eyes growing wider by the second, until they looked almost like they could swallow Zoey whole.

Zoey felt herself nod. "Okay," she agreed, softly. "I'll go with you. Just keep your, um, iPhone-knife-thing out."

Saiorse offered her a grim smile. "That I can do."

They were on the outskirts of Nashua, almost to the highway, when Saiorse gestured down a side street and Zoey realized where they were going.

"How do you know where my dad lives?" she asked.

The girl opened her mouth, started to speak, then thought better of it. "It was in our best interest," she said, instead.

"Our best interest?" Zoey repeated. "Who's 'our'?"

"Another question which I'm afraid I can't answer." Saiorse frowned, apologetically. "Let's just get through this first."

"This?"

Before Saiorse could answer, the girls rounded a corner and stopped before a familiar red house. It was nestled at the end of a car-lined street, between two oaks and a large, white colonial. In spite of her situation, Zoey couldn't help feeling safe once she saw it. A string of white smoke curled from the chimney, which meant that her father was home, sitting in front of the fire, probably sketching something. She felt emotion welling up in her throat; all she wanted to do was to run inside and wrap her arms around him, to forget this terrible day had ever happened. All she wanted was to lock herself in the house for the rest of the summer...but Saiorse seemed to have other plans.

"Right," she said, as if she'd read Zoey's mind. "Well, we're here. Do you mind doing me a favor?"

Zoey raised her eyebrows.

"Look, I'm sorry I lost it back there," Saiorse said, grimacing, meaning her words. "You're handling this quite well, much better than some, actually. You've had a rough day and it's only right that you have questions." She held up a hand when Zoey opened her mouth. "But, for the moment, I need to concentrate. I'm going to talk to your father, all right? And, while I do, I'm going to need you to be quiet. It will keep both of you safe."

Quiet? Zoey thought. This was her father they were talking about, her family home. For a moment, she felt indignation tighten in her chest but, after a moment, she nodded. She could be quiet, if it meant protecting her dad.

She followed Saiorse up the front walk, well aware of the dying begonias her dad had forgotten to water and the old paint, peeling from the shutters. The porch steps creaked under their weight and then, with a quick tap-tap-tap, Saiorse was knocking on the door.

It took almost thirty seconds for Zoey's dad to yell, "Coming!" but that was normal. Once he was engrossed in a drawing, Mr. Bennet had trouble reacting to the outside world. Zoey felt suddenly guilty for disturbing him: what was Saiorse going to say? Hello, sir. I was just at the mall with your daughter and we were attacked by a ferocious werewolf. Oh, by the way, one of my parents is a god and I think that your ex-wife might've been one too. Being patient was not the same as understanding and, even though Zoey was okay with waiting, Saiorse's first answer still felt like a sick joke.

The door opened and she had to stop herself from rushing inside and slamming it shut. Her dad stood there, in his favorite, threadbare sweater, a pencil behind his ear and his eyebrows high.

"Zoey," he said, surprised. "Hello! I didn't think you'd be home until..." He trailed off, distracted, his eyes moving over the empty street in front of their house. "Where is your car? And who is this?"

"Hello, Mr. Bennet," Saiorse said, offering her hand with a polite smile. "My name is Saiorse Walsh. I'm a friend of your daughter's. She was having some car trouble at the mall and I happened to pass by. I thought I would give her a lift home."

"How nice of you." Zoey's father seemed oblivious to the absence of another car. "Thank you so much."

Saiorse grinned. "It was no problem. Actually, I was hoping that, in return for helping her, you'd be able to help me with something."

"Of course!" Mr. Bennet exclaimed. "I can pay you for gas or I can ––"

The girl waved him away. "No, no, nothing like that. It has to do with Zoey, actually."

Mr. Bennet's uncertain expression reminded Zoey of someone else, especially when it turned suddenly blank. "With Zoey?" he asked, dully.

"Yes, Mr. Bennet," Saiorse replied. "While we were driving home, Zoey and I were talking about a summer camp in southern New York. We were thinking that it would be a lovely place to spend the next few months. It has swimming and canoeing and painting..."

"Painting," Zoey's father repeated. "Zoey loves painting."

"Does she?" Saiorse asked. "Well, I was actually wondering if she and I could go there –– my, um, uncle is a counsellor and I've talked to him about adding her to the roster on scholarship. He agreed completely. The only thing is, this camp starts tomorrow..."

Mr. Bennet's eyebrows rose. "Tomorrow? That's quite a pickle, isn't it?"

With a start, Zoey realized what her father's expression reminded her of. He looked almost exactly like the woman in the Apple Store, who'd been staring at the puppy video for almost twenty minutes, after Saiorse spoke to her...If Zoey didn't know any better, she would think that this girl was hypnotizing her father. But that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

"Mr. Bennet," Saiorse began, suddenly serious. "Would it be okay with you if Zoey came to camp tonight? I promise, I'm a responsible driver and will get her there safely. We'll contact you as soon as we arrive. Zoey will be home by the end of the summer, in time for school, and I can assure you, she'll have a lot of great experiences.

Summer camp? The insanity of Saiorse's words hit Zoey and she felt even more alarmed. She didn't want to go to some summer camp...if one even existed. She didn't know this girl and, even if she did, why would she follow her to some mysterious place in upstate New York? Sure, she wanted answers, but she didn't want them that badly. So, why was her dad nodding like that? "Dad?" Concerned, she took a step forward, ignoring the girl's sharp glance. "Dad, this camp...it's not...if you don't think..."

But Mr. Bennet was smiling. "That sounds lovely," he interrupted. "Really lovely. Learn some new painting techniques for me, okay, Pumpkin? Thank you so much, Miss..." He trailed off, eyes returning to Saiorse.

"Walsh," she supplied. "Thank you, sir. Your daughter is in good hands."

Whose hands? Zoey wanted to shout, but something stopped her. "Why should I go?" she asked Saiorse instead.

"It's the only place you'll be safe," the other girl answered, glancing at Zoey's dad. "Both of you."

Zoey swallowed, taking in her father's blank face, the strange girl before her, the tiny, red kitten, watching from the sidewalk with round, intelligent eyes. Could she really trust them? An image of the wolf, snarling and humongous, returned to her mind. If it meant protecting herself and her father, could she really afford not to?

"What did you say this camp is called?" she asked.

"Camp Half-Blood," Saiorse replied. "Believe me, Zoey. You're going to have the time of your life."

From the doorway, Mr. Bennet added, "I'll get the suitcase."

So...any ideas on whose child Saiorse is? How about Zoey?

Let me know what you think!