Woo hoo! The last couple chapters have been fun to write, and nobody seems to hate me! Yet. This story isn't over, and who knows what else I can do. . . Anyways, thank you so much to all my reviewers (delvio! lookin' at you, bro. Your reviews always make me laugh!) and SuzieQluvsU, for your spectaular observations on how I can better Christine's story. Girl, if you're still not pleased with this after chap. 13, drop me a line with suggestions, if you feel like it. Nothin' better than a bit of critique one in a while. Seriously. And that goes for the rest of you too! The only thing I WILL NOT DO UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES is bring Annabeth back. Thank gods nobody seems too torched about that, but if Percy wants a happy ending, he can very well go get his butt down to Hades and save her himself. AFTER my story has finished. :) So anyway, do continue!
Ch. 13
When we planned it out, we knew that it was risky. We knew that we were messing with people who had the potential to be a whole lot more powerful than us. And we knew we would get a very strong, very immediate reaction, and that being so close to the border put us in the direct line of fire. I knew, when Zane outlined the plan, that it was another one of those possibly suicidal missions that I always seemed to get involved in, one way or another.
But we didn't know what would happen. Zane had a theory of course, as one would expect, but nobody really knew for sure how the demigods would react.
It was better than I ever could have imagined.
After an endless moment of stunned, horrified silence, broken only by Underwood's girlfriend who shrieked like a banshee, the entire place practically exploded. Jackson falls to his knees beside the body, too shocked to respond, blown far past the point of tears. Chiron swells with rage, and wilts with grief at the same time, unslinging his bow from his shoulder, swiftly drawing an arrow. Mrs. O' Leary throws back her head and howls as all around her, fury strikes the demigods into a swelling rage.
Of course, I don't see any of this. I had instantly dropped the wooden box containing the carcass and high-tailed it out of there with Mokkan and Hawkeye on my heels, kicking up dust and clumps of grass in my wake as we push ourselves away from the madness.
Behind us, it takes probably six seconds, tops, for the demigods to pursue. "Split up," Hawkeye hisses at Mokkan and me as we hit the bottom of the hill, glancing back over his shoulder at Mrs. O' Leary, who is in the lead. "Mokkan, head for Broadway, try to shake 'em off; Christine and I'll meet you at the Lincoln Tunnel." He signals to Kodiak, who still hovers about twenty feet above our heads, and the mutant boy wheels off in the direction of Broadway to back up Mokkan.
Mokkan nods once before bounding off, and Hawkeye drags me off in the opposite direction. "Where are we going?" I ask him, casting a glance back at our pursuers.
"Doesn't matter, as long as we lose that lot," Hawkeye hisses. "I thought you were good at spontaneous decision-making. You've screwed us with that before; why can't you use it when it's actually needed?"
"Oh, bite me," I snap back, but let him take the lead anyway.
We burst out onto a highway, sending vehicles careening off as they avoid us and shoving pedestrians out of the way as we race down the packed streets, crammed with people on their lunch break from work. From what I can tell from the commotion behind us, Mrs. O' Leary, Clarisse the Drakon Hypnotizer, and one of the Stoll brothers are giving direct chase, and I notice a satyr and several other demigods pushing through the crowd after them. Tyson the cyclops and some of the others must have gone off after Mokkan and Kodiak. Jackson and Chiron probably stayed back at the camp, with the body.
"Heads up!" I yell to Hawkeye, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him down as a knife whizzes by over his head, thrown with telltale accuracy by Clarisse the Drakon Slicer.
Hawkeye leaps gracefully back to his feet with a panted "Thanks", pushing aside a young woman with a baby stroller, and we dart off down a long alleyway. Mrs. O' Leary and the demigods stay right on our heels until they approach the mouth of the alley, when Clarisse the Drakon Queen throws out an arm, halting Mrs. O' Leary and Travis Stoll. "Stay here!" she orders gruffly, her eyes searching the shadows of the alley.
That's when the temperature drops about twenty degrees. Outside of the alley things go on as usual, but all around me the concrete becomes cold and dark, shadows dancing on the dumpsters like living creatures, every reflection of light off of an aluminum can or shard of broken glass reminding me of eyes, watching us from the gloom. Discomfort crawls up my spine like ice, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
Hawkeye stiffens beside me, his silver eye glowing brightly in the darkness, and he slows to a jog, looking wearily around. It is so silent that every footstep echoes, every breath we take magnified. Then without warning he grabs my hand and takes off down the alley for all he's worth, dragging me after him despite the fact that I can run about four times faster than he can.
"What in Ha--"
"Get out of here," he hisses at me. "Run. Now."
Now, I know from experience that when Hawkeye tells you to run, you do so, and freaking fast, dude. It either means that he plans on kicking your ass and wants to give you a running start just so you have a fair chance to live, or he knows that something very very terrible is about to happen, and even he doesn't think you can fight it.
I'm guessing the latter.
I hate running from a fight, but this time I take Hawkeye's advice and grudgingly make a break for it, with Hawkeye on my heels. But not quite fast enough.
Just before I break out of the alley and back into the packed streets, cold hands yank me sideways, off my feet and into the grip of a shadow. I yelp and struggle savagely as Nico Di Angelo melts from the darkness and wraps me up against the dark brick wall, balancing his black stygian blade delicately against my neck. I fight for several seconds, but his powers weaken me, rendering me useless.
We both turn to look at Hawkeye as Mrs. O' Leary and the demigods enter the alley, approaching from behind, and Hawkeye stares back, crouched on the ground like a large cat. He knows what he has to do. He needs to follow his own advice and get the Hades out of here.
He knows better to stay, but can't help hesitating, unwilling to leave me. He could try to fight Di Angelo, of course, but even without Clarisse the Drakon Eater and the others to join the battle against him, the demon and the son of the death god are perfectly matched in terms of strength, wits, and just about everything else. Hawkeye's just a ton more evil, and older.
Di Angelo digs his stygian blade against my neck, and it's so sharp that it takes me a moment to register the pain that signals I've been cut. I feel a trickle of warm blood run down my neck, and twitch involuntarily. Di Angelo presses me harder against the wall and I bare my teeth at him, but don't struggle.
Hawkeye bites his lip, torn by his desire to live and our old connections. Mrs. O' Leary bounds up and screeches to a halt beside us, kicking up dust in her wake, making the decision for him. He looks away from me and takes a step back.
"Sorry," he whispers to me, his voice so quiet it's barely audible. Then he turns on his heel and vanishes around the corner, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel, and leaving me alone.
Travis Stoll runs to the edge of the alley, looking in the direction Hawkeye disappeared. "Should we follow him?" he asks Clarisse the Drakon Tamer.
"No, let him go," the daughter of Ares says, turning her attention to me. "I think this is the one we want. Right, Mrs. O' Leary?"
The hellhound leans over Di Angelo and sticks her nose in my face, sniffing me. She gives the girl a look.
The daughter of Ares shoos Di Angelo off to one side, although he keeps his black sword pressed into my neck. She regards me for a moment, and then uses the tip of her spear to lift the hem of my filthy white tank top.
Just enough to see the ugly black scar left on my side by the demigod girl on the rooftop, the night I was captured.
Di Angelo and Mrs. O' Leary exchange a darkly triumphant glance, and Clarisse the Drakon Dictator smirks at me, stepping up so her nose is inches from mine, blowing my red hair from my eyes with her breath. "Looks like we found our Wolfy, huh?" she says quietly. "You couldn't hide forever. You're gonna pay for this. For all this, Wolfy. I'll see to it myself, if I have to."
I stare up at her for a second, and she glares down, both of us swelled with hatred for the other. She towers probably four inches above my head, and weighs at least twice what I do. So I spit into her face.
She takes a step back from me with a yell, teeth gritted in fury, and brings the handle of her spear crashing painfully onto my skull, sending my collapsing sideways into Di Angelo before I black out.
Aw, shit.
