I'm sorry! I'm so, so, so sorry to all of you for putting in all this great character background and then totally burning all my points to the ground with the second half of the chaper! Eclipse of Nyx~Jacob, please don't hate me! I really am sorry, but I just couldn't resist! The temtation was waaaayyy to strong for me, and I gave in eventually. I can't help myself! Please though, even if you now despise me, do review. I got very little encouragement on chap. 11, so I'm hoping for some reviews this time. Anyway, I'm sorry, and I hope you still like me, and please review.
Ch. 12
"Ziral, what are you doing?"
The telekhine pup looks up at me and grins innocently. "Nuthin', Christine."
I cock an eyebrow at him skeptically as all the telekhine pups giggle and squeal. He's perched on Chase's legs, holding a blow torch in his flippers and grinning maniacally while she looks at him in terror and tries to buck him off her lap, fighting against the duct tape across her mouth.
"Can't you start that thing?" I ask Ziral. "You turn the dial on the side and click the little button in the front at the same time. See?"
I take the blow torch and demonstrate, and a flame shoots from the device. The telekhine pups shriek and bounce up and down in delight. Chase thrashes against the lamp post, her filthy hair, barely recognizable as blond, falling across her eyes as she strains against the ropes and duct tape that bind her skinny arms together.
I pass the blow torch to Ziral, who repositions himself on Chase's lap and fires it up for himself, giggling evilly.
"Don't even think about it!"
The pups groan, and I give Zane a dirty look. "What do you have to be so serious all the time?" I ask him as he stalks up and snatches the torch from Ziral. "Lighten up, dude. You're almost as bad as Hawkeye. She could use some third-degree burns, if you ask me."
"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you," he growls, switching off the blowtorch and stowing it under his arm. "And where did you lot get this thing, anyway?"
Ziral sticks out his chin. "Predak gave it to me," he says defiantly.
"That moron will be the death of us all, passing out weapons to random minors," Zane grumbles, giving me a suspicious look, as if he's not quite convinced I'm not the source of the problem. Maybe I am.
"You're just paranoid they'll burn down the whole camp," I say, giving Zane a knowing look.
"And why shouldn't I be?" he asks. "They're kids with fire, Christine. You of all people should know how much damage they can cause." With that, he turns on his heel and struts off.
"Jeez, what a boring old stick in the mud, huh Ziral?" I say, patting the downcast telekhine on the head. "I bet I can find you a fluid lighter though. Not quite as impressive, but it'll do. Right Chase?"
She just glares at me, a little half-heartedly. I don't blame her, since she's been out captive for almost a month now. It's been three weeks since I escaped from Camp Half-Blood. Zane retrieved the Golden Fleece from the Hudson a couple days after the runners drug me back to camp, and hid it away someplace that only he knows about. I've recovered pretty well in the last week or two, and have been on my feet for a while. My side wound still hurts if I strain myself to hard, but other than that I'm as good as new. Well, no worse than I was before portal guard.
Speaking of the portal guard, as I had suspected, the people at camp had suspected me dead on the scene. After I had passed out on the rooftop a group from the Rebel camp, having been alerted by Charlie X, the mutant runner, had come to the rescue of Kodiak, Fiona, and Katrina. All three of them had managed to make it out of the battle safe with the rest of the fighters and Charlie, but I had been left with Xelta, thought to be dead or dying.
I had hung out with Kodiak and the others for a while as I was recovering from my side wound, and had learned that they had all suffered only mild wounds themselves and that a different group of Rebels had been sent in our place to guard Portal Two. Kodiak had returned to his usual antisocial self since his return to the camp, but we still sat by each other and chatted at marshmallow-roasting fires and stuff like that.
I had also caught up with Damian, Io, Predak, and Mokkan, who had been pulled out of Portal One with Estella Holt the empousa after Di Angelo's attack on them. Predak and Io were their usual casual, fun selves as always, seemingly not the least bit bothered by their experience with the skeletons or the wounds they had received. Mokkan had landed himself some pretty bad wounds though, and even now, almost four weeks later, was still rather stiff on his feet.
Damian had suffered the most though. He had lost an eye, and with his new eye patch, now bore a distinctive resemblance to the late Ethan Nakamura, along with a pattern of permanent scars decorated the left side of his head, following his hairline. The loss of his left eye had also influenced his ability to aim when he used a bow and arrow, so now he was only the best shot on this side of the Mississippi, instead of the best shot in the country.
Unsurprisingly, this had not helped his mood in the least bit. Even though he was still the best archer in our camp, he had not practiced enough yet to be as good as he used to be, so he was in a continuously bad mood. So between Hawkeye, Kodiak, and Damian, I was getting sick of moody teenage boys, and if it didn't stop here pretty soon, they were going to hear from me.
Anyway, I smirk at Chase as she glares daggers at me.
"A fluid lighter would be great!" Ziral squeaks excitedly, and all the pups resume their previous enthusiasm.
"You like to cause trouble, don't you Christine?" Damian comes up beside me, smiling slightly, Predak waddling at his heels.
I turn and grin at them, trying desperately hard not to look at Damian's eye patch. "More than you'll ever know. So, what's up?"
"You seen Hawkeye lately?" Predak asks me. "He's been really touchy lately, and we're worried he might be contemplating tossing himself off a skyscraper or something. He likes heights, you know."
I sigh. "We haven't gone back to the suicidal stage again, have we?" I ask wearily. Several years back we went through a stage where we were all terrified of leaving Hawkeye alone with his sword because he seemed very likely to kill himself with it. Actually, I don't think it was serious, but we loved to make fun of him and he always looks so dark that none of us, Predak and I especially, can resist an occasional emo joke. We're messed up like that. We are villains, after all.
Predak grins. "Nah. I don't think so, anyway. We were just looking for someone to annoy."
Ziral bounces up. "We have a prisoner! You can annoy her!"
Laughing, Predak slaps the pup a high-five. "I like this kid. Where's your blow torch?"
This triggers Ziral and the other pups to launch into a rant on Zane and how he has no sense of humor and no patience and doesn't understand that you don't have to be nice to your prisoners of war and so on, which Predak joins into with enthusiasm, nodding understandingly and giving sympathetic looks. Damian and I exchange a glance and step around the group of telekhines, leaving unnoticed.
The Rebel camp is more empty than usual today, since there are some people away on portal guard and some foraging for food, others guarding the edges of our camp, cruising the New York City streets for some innocent mortal to torment, or simply sprawled out in their tents asleep. Damian and I walk side be side down the nearly deserted rows of tents in companionable silence, not really going anywhere in particular.
"So when did Hawkeye disappear on you?" I ask Damian after a while. "I saw him yesterday."
"So did I," he replies quietly, which is the only way he speaks now. "But nobody Predak and I have asked has seen him since. He's probably just off escaping the camp for the time being, scouring the streets for trouble to make."
I look sideways at him. "How's that eye of yours coming along?" I inquire, unable to resist.
Damian shrugs. "It's gone. That's all that matters," he mutters, studying the ground. "I'll get used to it eventually."
I give him a sympathetic glance that he either misses or chooses to ignore. Being half blind must be even harder on him than it would be on most people, and not just because he's an archer. Damian, like me, has lived more or less on his own his whole life, and relies heavily on his senses for survival. He never knew his parents, and ditched his foster home at age six. Because he had such a powerful demigod aurora for a son of Apollo, it didn't take long for him to be located and picked up by some of Kronos's soldiers and "adopted," if you want to call it that, by the ranks. Naturally, the army's anti-god policy had worn off on him before long, and he soon became one of them. By the time he was nine, he had befriended Danielle the hellhound and Laura the empousa, both of whom would eventually join Predak, Hawkeye, Damian, and me as members of our undercover group, working for Kronos.
I realize, with a jolt, as I walk down the rows of tents with Damian, that I actually miss those days. Hawkeye had been a bit more pleasant then, with Laura around. Although I had never had my suspicions confirmed, I was more than willing to bet that their relationship had been beyond friendly, which was probably why Hawkeye hadn't picked up another girlfriend since her death in front of the Empire State Building. He didn't want to let her go.
And then there had been Danielle. She and I had hit off immediately upon our first encounter with each other, and it was no wonder. Danielle had had a rub-me-the-wrong-way-and-I'll-smear-your-godsdamned-ass-out-across-the-pavement type of personality, which she had made very clear even without speech. We'd been close all the way through our undercover days, up until she was killed in the Battle of the Labyrinth, where Jackson had thrown Greek fire at her. She had been the first of our group to die.
I realize that Damian has been watching me. He knows what I'm thinking about, I'm sure, by the look on his face, so I stop walking and sigh.
"It sure changes fast, doesn't it?" I ask, and he shrugs, not answering. But he agrees. I can tell. Those blue eyes of his could never hide anything from me.
_____________________________________________________________
Hawkeye returns sever hours after my walk with Damian, dashing down the middle of camp and practically running me over as I lounge lazily around with Damian, Predak, and Kodiak, watching the telekhine pups throw rocks at Chase.
"Whoa, what's up with him?" I wonder out loud as Hawkeye's dark form flashes by us, heading in the direction of Zane's tent.
"Let's find out," Predak chirps, a very typical thing for him to say. He leaps up and scoots off after Hawkeye as Kodiak hauls me to my feet, ruffling his black bat wings curiously.
Hawkeye must have been moving pretty darn fast though, because by the time the four of us arrive at Zane's tent along with several other who have noticed Hawkeye, Io and Mokkan among them, he and Zane are already emerging from the tent, mixed expressions on their faces.
Hawkeye is still panting slightly, as if he has not quite recovered from his run. His damp falls across his dark eyes, which still support spectacularly black raccoon rings. But he has an odd look on his face, almost happy, I decide, but not quite, as it's somewhat overshadowed by his regular evil appearance.
Zane looks similar as he glances briefly at the crowd gathering around his tent, before stalking off at a jog. "Savage and Mokkan!" he barks over his shoulder. "We've got a mission for you! Kodiak Trenton, you too."
"What?" Predak exclaims. "Another one? Christine, you need to retire and let the rest of us do something for a change."
"Oh, come on," I tell him, dashing off after Zane and Hawkeye. "Let's see what they want."
Mokkan and Kodiak come up behind me, and we exchange a curious glance as we watch Zane approach Chase, sending telekhine pups scattering in every direction. She watches him wearily, shrinking back against the light post slightly as he comes closer. With one powerful swipe with his knife, Zane slices through her the ropes that bind her and scoops her up, tossing her roughly over his shoulder.
"What are you guys up to?" I ask Hawkeye, Mokkan trailing closely behind me.
"You'll see," he says. "I think you'll like it though. This is the kind of thing you do best, in my opinion."
That didn't really clear things up, but I don't pry as I follow Zane and Hawkeye back to Zane's tent. Chase is thrown mercilessly onto the cement once Zane enters the tent, followed closely by Hawkeye, Kodiak, Mokkan, and me.
Zane turns to look at us. "Hawkeye tells me that the time has come to shake things up a bit," he says. "There's been little action in the last couple of weeks, and we need to let the demigods know that we're still here. This could quite possibly start a full-scale war, which is what I want. Whether this will be the death of us or put us on the road to victory, I don't know yet, but it's our turn to make a move."
He draws a long dagger from his belt and sticks the point deep into his desk, making it rattle. "It's time," he says, "to give our prisoner back to her boyfriend."
We all turn to look at Chase, who is sprawled out on the ground, too weak even to sit up. But she knows what we're talking about, and her eyes go wide with terror.
I grin a Hawkeye, as beside me, Kodiak laughs evilly. "You're right, man. This is what I do best."
_____________________________________________________________
An hour later, Hawkeye, Mokkan, and I are standing at the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, while Kodiak wheels around high above us, like a bird of prey. Hawkeye stands still, looking serious and kind of scary with his coon eyes, staring straight ahead at the group of demigods gathered under the pine tree. Mokkan stands behind him, tethered to a large wooden box, which he drags behind him. I stay to one side, in human form, waving a large white flag of truce that is impossible to miss.
We stay at the bottom of the hill, waiting for permission to advance closer to the border. Under the pine tree, I can make out the form of Chiron the centaur and Jackson, close beside Di Angelo, Clarisse the Drakon Eater or whatever she calls herself, Tyson the cyclops, and Underwood the satyr. I also recognize the Stoll brothers, and Underwood's nature nymph girlfriend, whatever her name is. There are quite a few others, none of which I can put a name to.
Finally, Chiron calls down to us, glancing up at the little black dot in the sky that represents Kodiak as he does so. "What is your business here, boy?" he asks, directly addressing Hawkeye.
"We request permission to approach the border," Hawkeye yells back, perfectly calm.
"And why would you want to do that?" Chiron asks suspiciously.
"We carry a message from our army's director, Zane Lowenstein," Hawkeye reports. "We have no intension of physically harming your camp, or anyone in it. We carry no weapons"
"And why should I believe the likes of you, boy? What about your ally in the skies?"
"He is there only to provide backup, in the unlikely case that things get out of hand," Hawkeye calls, speaking of Kodiak. "And as to how you can trust us. . . You can't."
Underwood whispers something to Jackson, and I read his lips. "At least they're telling the truth about that."
Chiron gives Underwood a glance, and then calls out to Hawkeye again. "What is this message you have been instructed to give us?"
Hawkeye's silver eye glitters. "Allow us to approach, and we'll show you," he says, motioning over his shoulder at the wooden box Mokkan carries.
The centaur frowns and exchanges a glance with Jackson, who shakes his head vigorously. Di Angelo, however, is staring at the box, apparently riveted. His friends notice, and Underwood puts a hand on his shoulder, giving the son of Hades a questioning look. Nico Di Angelo, still unable to tear his eyes from the box, says something to Chiron, shielding his mouth with his hand.
Chiron pales slightly, and Jackson looks from Di Angelo to the centaur and back again, obviously not yet making a connection.
"Very well, boy. You may approach," Chiron calls down to us, and we start up the hill with measured steps.
The demigods at the pine tree draw their weapons defensively as we ascend the hill, and I can feel many, many arrows and knives aimed at my face and chest, ready to be released at the slightest breath of attack. Being unarmed and in human form, in this particular situation, makes my skin crawl, and I glance sideways at Hawkeye. He shows no sign of strain though, looking straight up at Chiron quite confidently. Unlike me, he always did work better under pressure.
The three of us approach until we are a mere three feet from the border. We are so close that I could probably reach out and poke Jackson in the eye, were I willing to take the risk. The tension is thick, and there is dead silence as we halt in front of Jackson.
"Well?" Chiron asks us wearily, his eyes never leaving Hawkeye's face. "What is this message?"
Hawkeye gives Mokkan and me a silent nod, and I stick my white truce flag into the soil and help Mokkan detach himself from the box he drags, the heavy silence magnifying every sound we make times ten. Together, the hellhound and I push the box right up against the border. Mokkan backs off, and I stand beside it, one hand on the latch, waiting Hawkeye's signal.
Hawkeye glances briefly upward at Kodiak, alerting him that he might be needed soon. Mokkan tenses up, his eyes wide with anticipation.
Behind the demigods on the other side of the border, Mrs. O' Leary whines loudly, tucking her tail between her legs. Nico Di Angelo stares at the box with an odd look on his face. Chiron looks at Di Angelo, who nods once.
"This message is for all of you, but we think that Jackson will find it most meaningful." Hakeye says. He motions to me. "If you please."
Grinning widely, I unclip the latch on the box, throw the lid open, and tip it on it's side, sending the contents rolling out at Jackson's feet.
Underwood's girlfriend screams shrilly as Jackson stares uncomprehendingly down at the carcass of Annabeth Chase.
