Hey, sorry the update took so long! I'm on vacation, and internet service is hard to get here, but I'm working on my chapters!
Ch. 4
We reappear inside Zane's tent. It's a good thing the tent's so big, because Mokkan collapses on the spot, snoring loudly. Damian and I barely have time to leap from his back and avoid being squashed beneath two tons of sweaty hellhound. I guess shadow travel, violence, and exciting chases all in one day really take it out of a guy.
Zane, who had flung himself out of the way just in time, stands up, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. "Well?"
"They're goners," I report.
"Dead as doornails," Damian agrees.
Zane nods. "Glad to hear it. Did you get Underwood as well?"
"Nah," Damian says, "missed that one."
"Pity," Zane says. "We could do with one less meddling satyr in our lives. But you got the twins, which was your original assignment."
"Any more dirty deeds you need us to do?" I ask, casting the snoozing Mokkan an odd look as his snoring gets louder and he snorts several times.
"Not at the moment," Zane says. "Just go get that wound looked at, if you think it needs to be." He had noticed the sticky blood soaking my shoe. "You are excused. And take that hound with you."
We thank him and hurriedly vacate the tent, dragging Mokkan with us as we go. With some difficulty, we haul him over to a nice dark spot against a brick wall and leave him there to sleep off the effects of shadow traveling.
I turn away from Mokkan, only to almost step on Hawkeye. I stagger back in surprise, and he cocks an eyebrow.
"Watch it!" I snap. "You keep sneaking up on me."
Hawkeye gives me a scornful look. "If I was any louder—" he begins, but I cut him off.
"If you were any louder, something or other would hear you, and you'd be dead, and my life would be a whole lot better. Yeah, we get it. What do you want this time?"
"I was going to ask how badly you screwed up your mission, but seeing as you're alive, I guess that's useless."
"If we were dead," Damian wonders out loud while I grind my teeth, "how would you be able to ask us how badly we screwed up?"
Hawkeye winks his silver eye. "I'm good at stuff like that. It's a newly acquired skill. Besides, it's not you I'm worried about. It's her." He looks at me.
"Oh, thanks," I say snidely. "Next time I need a babysitter in, like, never, I'll give you a call."
"Why in Hades would I babysit you? You can go drop dead for all I care. It's the havoc you wreak everywhere you go that bothers me. If anyone needs protection, it's the rest of us."
Damian sniggers.
I poke Hawkeye in the chest. "The day you manage to make it three whole hours without pissing someone off," I snarl, "I'll turn myself in. Fortunately, I don't have much to worry about."
"You're just trying to pick a fight, now."
"You bet I am. Anytime you wanna die, buddy, you just give me a call."
Damian sighs in mock boredom, interrupting us. "You two sound like an old married couple," he comments.
"You can't talk," I snap. You're the one that asked the question that started all this."
"No way," Damian protests. "Hestarted it, sneaking up on us like that."
I smirk. "Oh, yeah, Hawkeye, sneaking up on us like that," I say, giving Hawkeye an I told you so look.
Hawkeye mutters something I choose to ignore, my other option being to kick his skinny ass. "Yeah, blame everything on me," he says sarcastically.
"Yes, I think I will," I decide. "You're very presence makes me mad. Stay away from me." Do you know how many times I've told Hawkeye to stay away from me in the last four years? More than I can count. And notice who I'm yelling at. Yeah, I think it's a lost cause, too.
Hawkeye and I stomp off in opposite directions, both grumbling under our breath, leaving Damian standing alone beside Mokkan and laughing to himself.
"So, how did it go?" Io asks me when I get to our tent. "You look mad."
I slump down on the floor. "The mission went great. I haven't had that much fun in ages. Hawkeye's just being his usual charming self, that's all."
Io shakes her head. "You two have it in for each other, I say. I don't get how you can both be in the same army, constantly working together, fighting for the same thing, and still be at each other's throats."
"We're villains," I mutter. "Friendly wasn't in the job description."
Io shrugs. "Suit yourself, I guess. But there's a campfire out by Echidna's tent though, if you want to drop by. Predak and his telekhines raided the grocery store up the street. Hauled quite a load from what I hear. Predak says you're more than welcome to come." She leaves.
Stretching out on the floor, I allow myself to relax for several minutes before mopping up the wound on my foot. It bled a lot, so it looks serious, but it isn't. I'll probably have a limp for another week of two, but other than that, it's fine.
After testing out the bandage and putting my bloody shoe back on, I slip out of the tent and inhale deeply, scenting the air. It's still only about two 'o clock in the afternoon, so I have the rest of the day to waste. I decide to check out the campfire after all. Like Damian and Hawkeye, Predak the telekhine and I go way back to my first days serving Kronos. They were three of the original five companions I had picked up—Damian, Predak, and Hawkeye, along with Danielle the hellhound and Laura the empousa, both of whom are dead, and me. The six of us had done all kinds of undercover stuff for Knonos when he had been in power. They were the closest things I had to friends, which don't exist in my life.
Predak spots me right off the bat upon my arrival at the campfire, despite the crowd. "Christine Savage!" he calls from across the flames and the chatter, and I raise my hand in greeting. "Catch!"
He tosses me a Coke—my first one in three years. Oh, the things us homeless street rat mutants miss out on, huh?
I pick my way through the crowd and sit between Predak and Damian. "And how exactly did you get your flippers on this gold?" I ask, motioning to the mountain of comfort food beside us. Damian groans, and I get the feeling he's heard this story more than once before.
Predak absolutely glows at my interest. "It was fabulous!" he exclaims, his pointy little teeth glittering. "We took it right out of the supermarket up the road away, y'know, the one right by the police station? So anyway. . ."
For the next couple of hours, we listen to Predak and his telekhine gang tell immensely entertaining stories full of bravery and self-heroism and much crafty outwitting of hopeless human cops (none of which I believe) as we munch on stolen, fire-toasted food. Even Hawkeye comes and joins us after a while, and although I flip him the bird on sight, sticks around for a s'more or two, which is unusual for someone like him.
Remember how I told you earlier that everyone who served under Kronos was there for a reason? We aren't evil, usually. We're just misunderstood, underappreciated and overlooked, and we're sick of it. If we had been a bit luckier in life, we'd be no different than precious Percy Jackson and his fan club up there at Camp Half-Blood, or even better, no different than the average mortal. But we're stuck here, and as long as we can see the gods as they truly are, greedy and uncaring, we are not going to sit here and let them forget about us. Those gods rubbed us the wrong way, and you can bet they're gonna hear about it.
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"Alright, troops, gather 'round!"
Zane is perched on a hastily assembled platform in the middle of the camp, calling us to him. It's been a week since my attack on Underwood and the Demeter twins with Mokkan and Damian, and we're all starving for some bloodshed. There have been several missions to run down new demigods as they race for the border, but those have all been clean-cut and successful, and aren't satisfying our need for action well enough. The bigger monsters, like the giants, dracaenae, and the Sphinx, who can't participate in these little life-or-death races, are getting increasingly bored and touchy. Fights among the rest of the troops, some proving fatal, are breaking out too, as we get impatient and mean. All in all, you know that when we stoop to killing each other, we're desperate for some violence.
"We have a chance to breach Camp Half-Blood's borders tonight!" Zane calls, and the assembly explodes.
He waits for the howls and shrieks to die down—it takes a while—before continuing. "At eight-thirty tonight, the border will be revoked for exactly six seconds, enough time for their mortal oracle to enter camp. We'll use these six seconds to get soldiers into the camp. You won't have to worry about back out; the border in only effective from the outside, assuming you live long enough to worry about that." He gives us a strange look, like he's challenging us to come out of this alive.
A telekhine at the back of the crowd speaks up. "How can we get into the camp in only six seconds? There's bound to be demigods crawling all over the border; they're not stupid. They'll see us before we can even get close!"
Zane shoots a cold look in his direction. "Well, you don't have much to worry about, since you're not going. But he does have a point. That's why only the fastest of you will be coming with us. There's enough underbrush around to provide sufficient cover, and hellhounds and empousa can blend into the shadows. That, along with the Mist, will allow us to get close enough to enter the camp, if you move fast."
"Won't they be able to put the border back up when they know they're under attack?" a girl demigod on my right asks.
Zane shakes his head, but it's Hawkeye who answers. "They pre-program how long the border will be down," he says from his spot leaning against the platform below Zane. "For example, they'll tell it when to go down a long time before it actually does. They can change that time, as long as it hasn't come yet. But once the border does go down, they can't do anything about it. They won't be able to put it back up until that time they set it for is over."
"But won't they know we're there, even if they can't see us?" asks the same girl.
"Well, they don't have much choice do they?" says Zane. "They have to get their oracle into camp sooner or later, and to do that the border has to go. They have to decide if they want an oracle or guaranteed safety. Any more questions?"
"Who'll be going?" calls out a dracaenae.
"Hawkeye and I will be at the head of the operation," Zane says. "We've handpicked twenty-eight others to come with us, the ones we think have the best chance of getting in the camp, and are also small enough to hide properly."
A groan goes up from the giants.
An empousa raises a dainty hand. "Are we after their oracle girl, or are we just killing people?" she asks.
"Get anyone and anything you can reach. We're not picky, are we?" Hawkeye says, and a ripple of unpleasant laughter goes through the crowd.
The corners of Zane's mouth twitch. "Any other questions?"
Nobody speaks up.
"Hawkeye, you may proceed. If Hawkeye calls your name, report to my tent immediately." With that, Zane drops down off the stage and disappears from view. Hawkeye hops up in his place and begins to call off names he appears to have memorized. The first fifteen or so are hellhounds, Mokkan among them. After that, some people from other species get called out; some empousa, a giant scorpion, two dracaenae. Damian, standing beside me with Predak, is among the three demigods that get chosen, and I slap him a high five. Instead of heading off to Zane's tent right away with the others, he stays beside me.
"I'm only number twenty-four," he whispers. "You'll be picked too, I bet."
"Yeah," says Predak, from below me. "If not, we'll kill Hawkeye for you."
"Not if I get him first," I whisper back.
Sure enough, the next three names Hawkeye calls off are mutants, like me. Finally, "—and. . . Christine Savage."
"Told you so," Damian says.
From the stage, Hawkeye shoots me a look that clearly says I was not one of his choices. Pretty sure he left my name for last on purpose, I bare my teeth and flip him the middle finger over the head of the crowd (he's been getting that a lot from me lately) before stalking off with Damian.
"See you guys," Predak calls to us as he waddles away with everyone who isn't going on the mission. "Good luck!"
When we get to Zane's tent, everyone else is already gathered, and Hawkeye arrives just behind us.
"Okay," Zane says when he has everyone's attention. "If you are standing here, you are considered to be one of the fastest free-lance fighters in our army. Some of you are considered to be even better than that, ranging among the fastest in action today, that includes both serving the gods and fighting them."
For less than a moment, Zane's eyes seem to flicker towards me, and possibly Mokkan too, but it happens to fast that I dismiss it as my paranoia. But then I notice both Damian and Hawkeye watching me out of the corner of their eye, and I can't help but wonder briefly what kind of stories about me are floating around out there.
Zane continues to talk. "Being included in an operation attempting to pull off a stunt such as this is a position of great honor that demands respect, so I expect you to act like it to some degree, no matter how barbarian your style usually is." Once again, I notice more than one pair of eyes flicking in my direction. I debate whether or not to treat Hawkeye to the bird again, figuring that he's the guy behind that last one. Eating garbage is not barbarian, and neither is eating people's pets, or even . . . yeah, I think I'll just stop there. Alright, he's got me on that one.
"Now, as you were informed earlier, our entire operation is hit-and-run, so you will have only five minutes in Camp Half-Blood after—and if—you breach the border. When those five minutes are up, we'll call a retreat, and you'll have exactly thirty seconds to get to the top of Half-Blood Hill and back across the border before we leave. If you're not back by then, you're on your own. It's as simple as that. While you're in the camp, do whatever you want to, I don't care; torch the forest, ransack the living quarters, whatever. Just get out of there as fast as you can when we start the retreat. Any questions? Good.
"We leave in an hour and a half. Be here and ready to go." With that, Zane disappears into his tent and ceases to acknowledge our existence.
The group disperses, chattering excitedly as they go back to their tents to prepare for tonight. But something is bothering me slightly. I stay behind, waiting for Hawkeye.
"What do you want?" he asks as I come up beside him. Funny how the only way we can ever greet each other is by asking what the other one wants this time.
"You're a jerk. I am not a barbarian, thanks very much."
"Whatever. You stuck around just to tell me that?"
"Well, no. There's something going on here. What are you and Zane up to?"
He cocks an eyebrow at me. "What makes you think that?"
"Because I know how you work. And both you and Zane are going on the mission. That makes no sense, unless you were planning on tackling something big," I observe.
Hawkeye stands in silence for a minute. "You know how Zane figured out that Jackson's Achilles spot is on his lower back?"
"Yeah . . . so?"
"Well, that's still almost impossible to hit. Unless we have Jackson, like, duct taped to a tree or something, anyone's chances of nailing him in battle are extremely low. So Zane and I figured that until we know exactly where we need to hit, we won't let Jackson catch on that we know his secret."
"And?"
"You don't have to be in physical pain to be miserable," Hawkeye says softly. I get the feeling that he's speaking from personal experience here. "So we're gonna mess with Jackson's mind a bit. Like all demigods, he has a fatal flaw, too."
I catch on immediately. "The girl?" I ask breathlessly.
A smirk plays at Hawkeye's lips. "She's a good fighter, always right in the line of fire. If we can distract Jackson long enough . . ."
I grin. "That is freaking evil, Hawkeye. I love it."
"Most people will," he whispers before walking off and disappearing into the labyrinth of tents.
I return to the tent Io and I share. This is the craziest, most insecure plan I've ever heard, but oh gods, it's gonna be fun.
