Beg, Borrow, and Steal
January 1969
"The bitch is dead," growled Amanda Ericson in all ferocity she could muster.
A sleepy reply came from underneath the bunk of the previous speaker. "Why are you still up, Amanda?" The white noise of the Ares cabinmates' snoring should have drowned out her inquiry but Amanda still managed to hear.
"I'm not talking to you, lava nigger. I never do," the clipped response came. The girl shoved her blankets off her body and sat at the edge of her high bunk, legs swinging while she mulled over her next move.
The "lava nigger" (or the Hawai'i-born Calliope "Callie" Mahelona as she liked to be called), started again, although she was somewhat amused at the latest insult thrown her way. Amanda was many things, but you couldn't call her uncreative. She stretched out from her standard sleeping position (the fetal) and sat crosslegged leaning against the adjacent wall. "Is this about Megan again?" Callie had seen her tossing and turning over the past few days always muttering something about flames and fire. The is the first time she ever woke up from one.
Amanda huffed in response with no intention of answering her question. Arms crossed, her mind went to Megan Richardson. That daughter of a bastard bitch Morpheus and her depraved ability to enter someone's mind. And to think that she had actually considered her as someone akin to a possible friend once and now… Another one of these and she just might see if her skull was as breakable as...as…
"Amanda, you're bleeding," Callie said from below her. Amanda looked down at her crossed arms and noticed that her fingernails had punctured her skin, red trailing down her arms.
She would find out if Megan's skull was as breakable as her skin.
"Are you seriously considering pounding her?" Callie asked her. While she wasn't necessarily the only exception to the rule, she knew that it was an established fact that Ares' children tended to go after things pretty rashly. It didn't matter to her that what Amanda said to her face about her was what the silent majority of the campers were thinking; she was self-proclaimed peacekeeper of the cabin. Needed to be. If there was no peace-keeper in this cabin, the wooden walls would be a great deal redder.
Amanda jumped off her top bunk, her disheveled long black hair covering half of her face giving her the appearance of something ghoulish. She snatched away a flashlight from a drooling camper with more bulk than he should have been allowed for a twelve year old. She unlatched several crudely made locked up and down the rim of the doorway and opened it, brisk and cold wind greeting her.
Anyone else might have looked upon her silhouette and believed her to be comparable to one with great power and authority by the way she stood. Something like an Amazon.
Callie saw a sleep-deprived girl only using half of her brain about to do something she wouldn't be able to undo.
"Don't follow me," Amanda said in a low voice.
Callie, already tying up her All Stars, had a good habit of not listening.
They walked past the cabins to a small shed outside of the 12 Cabin Horseshoe. It was unofficially donned the Cabin of the Lost Boys by Obed.
Thing was, it was well-known that Camp Half Blood had only twelve official cabins for the countless kids it got throughout the years. Most were evenly divided into seven of them: Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, Demeter, Hephaestus, Dionysus, and Apollo. Hera, as the goddess of her own divine family, had no illegitimate children so, while there was a cabin in her honor, no one lived in it. Artemis, the maiden goddess of the hunt, had no children because of her unyielding virginity.
Shortly after the Second World War, the Olympians had to make a decision regarding its aftermath. As most of the damage and devastation had been caused by the powerful children of Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon, it was decreed that there could be no more children of the Big Three, lest another war sweep the Earth. Yet rumors fly, as they often do. Gods couldn't keep their problems in their pants like they couldn't for centuries. And those cabins were empty, for now.
Then, there were the cases of the cabin-less. Designated cabin in their honor or not, the so-called 'minor' gods and goddesses still made their lineage known at the nightly campfire. So they came all the time: Thomas of Asclepius, Xavier of Melinoe, Arnica of Enyo, Obed of Hebe, Christina of Nike, Wes of Iris, Larry and Lawrence of Hecate, that new girl Shannon of Kymopoleia for example.
Megan of Morpheus.
And some decided to stay inside the overly cramped Hermes cabin, a home for all unaccounted for travelers and teenagers, even if some Hermes kids were resentful that they had to share their limited space with people who weren't even their own. But, rumor had it Obed had made such a stink about their situation for decades that a cabin of sorts was built. (Not that Obed lived in it; he slept anywhere he dropped).
Thus, the rickety-looking piss-yellow shed was born. There was never a solid explanation for the color but it wasn't a big deal anyway.
Amanda marched up to the door of the cabin, steam practically rising from her body.
"Maybe you should knock," Callie suggested.
Amanda punched the lock and yanked open the door as if she didn't hear her. If that didn't make her presence known well enough, she screamed inside, "I'm coming for you, you slaggin' bitch!" The door slammed behind her.
Callie winced and looked around the moonlit land. "Gods, I hope they didn't hear that." 'They' being the harpys.
With one more glance over her shoulder, she sighed and opened the unlocked door and murmured a prayer under her breath that no one was dead yet.
The other thing about the Cabin of the Lost Boys (or Cabin 13) was that it was constructed by Muriel Bouwmeester, a daughter of Hecate and legacy of Hephaestus not long after the the Second World War. It was decided in the Camp Council that Cabin 13 could only be constructed by those it was meant to serve. As quoted by the head counselor of the Hephaestus cabin back then, "If you want your own cabin so bad, make your own damn one." Muriel decided she was the one for the job, and what a job it was.
For starters, it may have had the looks of an unseemly and humble shed, but the surprise came once you walked in.
Callie's eyes widened and she gasped, like she did every time she entered. The interior of Cabin 13 had a ceiling higher than any of the other cabins and it extended further back encompassing several other rooms. The ceiling was painted black and decorated with stars and constellations (which would rotate with the turning of the actual sky). On the wall nearest to the door were names of each minor god or goddess ever represented inside this cabin (Hecate, Morpheus, Enyo, Iris, Nike, Hebe, Asclepius, Hypnos, Themis, Kymopoleia, Meiboia, Nemesis, Eris, Euphrosyne, Harpocates, and Iakchos). It was furnished with rugs, carpets, and orange drapes framing the single window at the back. It had sofas and chairs and a bronze-coated record player on a table in the center, a box of albums to its left. Worn out books, National Geographic and Time magazines were stacked up next to a wall. All of these were lit up with multicolored lamps and lights.
As Callie walked further in wondering where in Hades Amanda was, a door opened at the right of her. It was green and read 'NIKE' at the top in golden lettering.
"Hi, Christina," Callie gave a friendly smile and waved.
Christina, daughter of Nike, nodded to her in greeting. Her short blonde hair was sticking up in all directions and she shivered, tugging her forest green robe tighter. Her green eyes were raised, but not in confusion. "This is about Amanda and Megan, yes?"
Callie nodded. "Mostly about Amanda, anyway. She's blaming Megan for her nightmares." She glanced up at the clock that read 2:31. "Shouldn't everyone be asleep?" She gestured to the colored lights in around the cabin.
"You're one to talk," Christina said in her heavy Boston accent. "I was studying for school. Harvard doesn't exactly hand out free passes. And, to answer your question about the lights. That's all your sister's doing. Waking everyone up like that like she lives here."
"She isn't my sister," Callie said automatically.
"Sure," Christina gave a half smile. "Unrelated, but if you're craving any post-Midnight snacks, Angelica and Mason are cooking up some honey sweets in Angelica's cabin."
Callie thought about Angelica, the daughter of Meiboia, and Mason, the son of Euphrosyne. They were possibly the two most kindest kids in the whole camp. The duo were one in only a handful that didn't notice her brown skin and look in the other direction.
"It's a little too late -er- early to be having sweets right now, but tell them I appreciated the offer."
Christina shrugged. "Third door to your left. Be quick. It's too early to mop up blood." She turned to reenter her room.
Callie thanked her, said good night (answered with a yawn) and ran down the hall, opening the dark grey door that read 'MORPHEUS' in gold lettering.
Callie was amazed at the wonders of soundproof doors.
"...sending me visions of falling to my death!" Amanda's face was red and she clawed at the air in front of Megan, only held back by the strong dark brown arms of Thomas Moore, the only son of Asclepius in Camp Half Blood's history.
Well, Callie thought about Amanda's racist nature. If that doesn't just add insult to injury.
"Mandi, honey," Megan said in her trademark Texan drawl. She wore a nightgown that looked to be blue silk. She wore a small smile. "Falling dreams are just as common as your devotion to the Beach Boys. So depressingly common." She sat down on her blue-blanketed bed, thick brown hair flying about with some undetectable wind.. "Now, if you said you had received a dream about you being set on fire while your loved ones looked on, that might be a cause for alarm."
Amanda screamed, becoming more and more disturbed that she was being held back by a Negro. "That's what happened at the end! That's how it ends! I'm burned alive!" Her voice became shrill.
"Honey, I would never waste my time sending you nightmares." She crossed the room and stopped in front of her mirror, her face frowning in disgust at a blemish no one could see. She continued talking as she applied makeup to her lower eyelid. "There are easier ways to make myself pass out or make you have a wardrobe of brown pants."
"Maybe it was a vision," Callie spoke up, the first time since entering.
Amanda turned to her, her face becoming even more red. "I told you not to follow me."
Callie understood that rage can cloud your senses (even more so if your father is the war god), but it wasn't like she was being subtle about walking behind her.
"Cal, honey!" Megan walked towards her, gave her a little hug, and kissed the air at each side of her face. "It's so nice to see you. In my room." She tossed her head, frowning at said room. "Sorry for the look. It's looking a little Japanese at the moment, but that's to be expected. I'm renovating."
The introduction took Callie by surprise. In all the years she knew her (even saying 'knew her' is sort of strong. More like 'watched from a considerable distance'), she couldn't say that she liked the girl any. Megan tended to give anyone that wasn't her disdainful looks and fake laughter.
"Hi, Megan. Hi, Thomas," Callie smiled at the boy.
Thomas, clad in denim overalls over a white t-shirt, nodded back. "Nice to see you, Callie. I would wave but." He looked down at the fuming girl.
"I didn't know you guys were friends." Callie knew Thomas to be a bit of a one man band and Megan wasn't the friendliest person.
"Since last week," Megan started. "He saved my life in that nasty bit of Capture the Flag."
Callie couldn't recall any nasty bits. Capture the Flag last week was very tame. It was over Christmas after all; the majority of the most competitive and toughest players were out of town. Megan was probably just being her dramatic self.
"Now," she continued, walking back. "What was that about your theory. That this is some sort of message."
Callie chewed the inside of her cheek. "I'm not sure, but as long as I've known Amanda, she's never had a single nightmare. None of us usually do; our cabin's full of heavy sleepers." She shrugged. "Maybe she's just overreacting."
Thomas cried out. Amanda had escaped his grip and was now scratching at her arms, repulsed at the darker man holding her for that long. "I am not overreacting." She opened her mouth to speak further.
"Honey," Megan interrupted, clicking her tongue. "Most everyone dreams. Most people don't remember them when they wake up." She stared at Amanda in distaste. "And stop looking at me like that, will you? I receive dreams, not give them just for laughs. Am I laughing?"
"Maybe you could just search her head," Thomas said, rubbing his arms where Amanda elbowed it. "There's nothing to lose by just double checking, or something."
"I'm losing peace and quiet," Megan muttered, tapping her fingers on her desk. "And gods know I'm not in the mood." She sighed heavily. "How much drachma do you have in your possession, Amanda?"
"You can't have any."
"And I suppose you'll continue to be plagued by nightmares of your blood boiling and your skin blackening until it actually happens?"
Amanda got even redder, if that were possible. "Twenty-nine,"she mumbled.
"I want twenty of those."
"What?" Amanda's mouth dropped. "I use those to talk with my mom." As much as Amanda couldn't stand her drug addict of a mother, she still felt the need to talk to her every once in a while.
"Honey, I don't negotiate." Megan smiled sweetly. "Save up."
Amanda groaned and punched the wall creating a dent.
"Oh, dearie, I'm afraid it's now jumped to twenty-three."
Amanda took a shuddering deep breath. "How long will it take?"
"It depends," was her only answer as she walked towards Amanda with her manicured fingers outstretched.
"Depends on what?" Amanda asked as Megan's fingers pressed onto her skull causing her to wince in pain.
Megan hmmed. "It just depends." In a few seconds, Amanda's vision went black as Megan entered her head.
The first thing Megan heard when she came to was Thomas worried speaking.
"Is she okay?" he started. "I've never seen her do anything like that." His voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched. "Her eyes just rolled back and her bloomin' eyes are white." He made a sound like he was trying not to barf. "Is she in any pain? Are the black veins normal? Man, that doesn't look healthy."
"No worries, Thomas," she said. She stood back and stretched letting Amanda drop from her grip and flop on the ground like a ragdoll. She brushed back a few strands of her hair and looked at him with her alluring grey eyes. "For a son of Asclepius you have something of a weak stomach."
Thomas gulped and attempted to shrug it off. However, he still looked more than a little nauseous at the sight of the black veins in her arms disappearing up her head.
The 'procedure' only took about three to four minutes. She had learned from a late daughter of Hypnos that certain things you would have to really dig for if it was a dream, yet as a child of Morpheus, it took more brute force. Dreams are fleeting things, evanescent. In this case, whatever Amanda had been dreaming reacurringly was at the top of her mind so that was Megan could see immediately after she dove in.
"She's right about one thing," she started as Amanda cursed about a headache on the ground. "It wasn't from me. I suppose the only reason I guessed as well as I did is because it is my nature." She began to pace the empty room, her bare feet tapping against the wooden floor. "Yet...yet I can't be certain who I saw setting the fire."
"Someone else was in there?" Callie whispered. She had been talking with Thomas in order to take his mind off of the action. Tough kid in many things, that Thomas. If that didn't include looking at totally white eyes and black veins apparently. "Who?"
"I just said I didn't know," Megan snapped. She tapped her fingers against her thighs in irritation then smoothed down the sleeves of her nightgown. "I can give a basic description. Starting with his eyes." She set her mouth in a firm line, thinking intently. "His absolutely black eyes."
Thomas patted his pockets down looking for a pen or pencil. Finding nothing, he said, "Make us repeat it at the end so we won't forget it."
Megan decided against saying that they would want to forget. "He had black eyes. Not the kind that you get from a punch to the face. Rather, where his iris and whites would be, it was all pitch black." She paused, eyebrows furrowing. "Looking directly at me."
"I thought you could only see into dreams," Callie said.
"I view them like I'm watching a show. No alterations, no interactions. No following my gaze."
"If his eyes were black like you said, then you couldn't really tell where his eyes were looking, right?"
"Calliope," Megan's eyes hardened. Callie didn't know she knew her full name. "Must I spell it out for you? I. Know. What. I. Saw." Her face changed expressions the next second, like a light switch. "Come to think about it, he was actually kind of a hunk. All sharp cheekbones and hooded eyes. Tall, dark, and handsome."
Thomas was silently repeating everything she said until she said 'tall, dark, and handsome'. "You mean, white, right?"
"I don't think the gods are white," Callie said. "They're just...gods."
Megan smirked. "Let's pretend that made sense."
"Any noticeable features," Thomas asked. "Gods can change appearance, so anything like clothing or symbols or anything."
"Besides lit torches he was throwing at people, nothing." Megan was looking more and more disinterested with the subject matter. She walked to her bed. From underneath it, she pulled out a box of Vogue and Cosmopolitan magazines. Opening one, she flipped through the pages. "Take it up with Chiron or Euterpe or someone."
"Don't you think you should come with us?" Callie was getting the memo that she was overstaying her welcome. "This could be a warning or something. If the fire-man-person looked at you, it could be impor-"
"That's nice, honey." Callie was sure she thought it wasn't. "Fact of the matter is, it's none of my business. I want no part in it. People get trigger-happy with the messenger."
"But-"
"Get out." It was spoken with an air of nonchalance, but it carried the weight of a threat.
"Consider us gone," Thomas said. He offered a hand to Amanda who just slapped it away.
Once out the door, Amanda stormed off and kicked over the neatly stacked magazines. Once she exited, she slammed the door behind her.
"She's something, isn't she?" Thomas said, closing Megan's door behind them. "Dramatic like that."
"Amanda or Megan?" Callie asked, still upset that Megan didn't seem to care about a potential very-bad-thing.
"I was talking about Amanda." He gestured to the fallen and scattered Nat Geos and Times.
"She has her days," Callie admitted. Thomas laughed a little at that.
"How do you do it?" Callie wondered. "Megan's rude."
"Megan isn't what she seems," was his only answer. He crouched down to fix the stack. Callie also helped.
Walking down the hall to the exit door, Callie said what they were both thinking. "We have to tell Chiron. Later, but it has to happen."
"We will," Thomas said. Opening the door, he gave a stern look at Callie. "Don't stay up all night thinking about it."
"I will."
"It's not healthy," Thomas said. "Sleep deprivation can cause a variety of effects including, but not limited to, low cognitive functioning, hallucinations, impairment of judgement,-"
"It won't kill me." Callie smiled.
"It could." Thomas grinned back.
"So, uh, nice talking with you." She started walking in the direction of her cabin, snow falling lightly. "See you later today."
"Go to sleep," Thomas called back.
Callie had a good habit of not listening.
Hellooooooo! I updated! I know you all love me, don't kid yourself.
So, given all the snow, I've had lots of time for research.
Mr. D is an iffy thing for me since it says in the last book that he would only have to serve 50 yrs. out of the 100, so I'm thinking he wasn't here then. Since Chiron can't run the place himself (I mean, hypothetically he could, but that's too much chaos in a concentrated space) I added Euterpe, the muse of music. No appearance yet, but she'll come.
So, while researching god, I came across really cool ones that I've never heard of. You all know and love Hecate, Morpheus, Iris, Nike, Hebe, Asclepius, Hypnos, Kymopoleia (she's in one of the latest HoO books), and Eris, so no detail in those. But as for the others,
Enyo: Goddess of Destruction and Waster of Cities
Themis: Goddess of Justice
Meiboia: Goddess of Bees/ the Bee Cult (do you know how cool this is!? the goddess of BEES. apparently, she was soooo minor that she's only been found on a few scrolls and writings, but there's nothing else. which means, i can be as liberal as i want with her. i won't be making a lot of my own half-blood characters, but i had to make my own for this because she might be the coolest find ever for me. just. freaking. AWESOME!)
Euphrosyne: Goddess of Happiness and Joy
Harpocates: God of Silence and Secrecy
And last, but most certainly not least, Iakchos: God of Who the FUCK Knows Even. Half the shit I find for him is just guess work and fun times. I find him in less than 10 sources. 10! His name sounded cool so yeah, I was gonna use him
Here's the list and use it wisely, friends. (You might even be able to guess where I'm headed with this if you really, really read between the lines.)
And, the only reason I'm adding so much descriptions with the cold and snow is because it's sort of hinted that the barrier CHB has wasn't always there. They've had Thalia's Tree, and the Golden Fleece (both of which helped make the barrier work), but they also had Festus which implies (to me, at least) that the force field thingee wasn't always the standard.
And, I just figured the Greeks could keep tabs on legacies, not just the Romans. Because.
And, I really didn't want to just say, "The piss-yellow cabin was bigger on the inside" because this is my realm and in my realm, Doctor Who references are not spoken (just lower me into my grave, moffat, so you can let me down one last time)
And, that's it. I hope the creators of Amanda, Calliope, Megan, and Thomas thought this was cool. If not, fear not! Plenty more chapters to come to solidify their personalities and mannerisms. PM me if you have any problems or inputs.
Till the next update!
Edit: I added Melinoe to the list of gods/goddesses ever represented in Cabin 13. The reason I didn't add him then was because I established in the last chapter that he didn't even know Shannon was there despite him never really leaving the camp. He's the Ghost Boy, the 20th century (or more strictly 20th century) child of the underworld. I see him as a less awkward and more creepy Nico di Angelo, and Nico was (or felt) pretty excluded in all the CHB boarding and activities. And, while he may have resided in Cabin 13 for a while, he was probably 'kicked out' so to speak. Then, he goes to the Hermes cabin since they can't really say know…?
Or, you could chalk it up to the fact I had so many submissions with minor godly parents that I had to put them somewhere and the idea didn't come until after Ch. 3.