MAIN TITLE: The Keeper of Fate
WARNINGS: See first chapter for warnings.
NOTES: Thanks to chaSing b0b, Fangisnotmyfirstname, Neela4232, FallenAngel10086, WinterDreamers.x, Hope and love, angel2u and nickiR0x for reviewing this chapter!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the PJO series. Rick Riordan does.
Chapter 18: We Stumble Down the Stairs of Disaster
We wander down the corridor in silence for an entire hour. I kind of want to take a break for a bit, but Clarisse would probably look at me with disgust if I even suggested it, so I keep my mouth shut.
"Why exactly did we go through your room, anyways?" Clarisse asks suddenly. "There were like twenty something other doorways in the basement, why didn't we use one of them?"
"Well, every bed on the main floor has an underground room to go with it. So twenty of those doors just lead to either my brothers' private rooms or to empty ones. The other two lead directly to the tunnels, but I'm not sure where they go. They could just lead us in circles underneath the camp for all I know. This tunnel is the one I've used the most, and I know for a fact that it leads into Manhattan," I explain, shining my flashlight along the wall.
Well, technically this flashlight belongs to Clarisse. I'm lucky she had an extra; I can't believe I forgot to bring one. I could probably build one if I had the right materials, but I don't. I hope we don't run out of batteries anytime soon, because we're going to be down here for a long, long time. We haven't actually gone that far in an hour, because we have to check every inch of the walls for Daedalus' mark. I'm really hoping that we won't find one, because that will mean Luke definitely has an entrance into camp.
Silence reigns again for another ten minutes, until Clarisse once again breaks it. "So do all your brothers have secret entrances into the tunnels in their rooms?"
"Probably. I wouldn't really know. I've never been in any of their rooms. In fact, I've never even caught a glimpse of the inside of their rooms, because they don't usually use the doors in the basement. Their beds lower into their rooms," I add, seeing the confused and yet somehow indifferent look on Clarisse's face.
"Seriously?" she asks, almost as if she wants to keep me talking so she doesn't have to think about–well, anything.
"Yeah. Only I can't do that with mine, because my underground room already has a bed, and it's so big that there's no space for another bed," I babble on, because I really don't want to think either.
"How did you even get a bed down there in the first place?" she asks, squinting at a crack in the wall.
"It was pretty difficult. Long story. Very boring," I respond vaguely.
"I have time," she says, smiling wryly.
For some reason, that makes us both laugh. Then, as if suddenly struck by a horrible thought, Clarisse pales and stops dead in her tracks.
"What's wrong?" I ask anxiously, glancing over my shoulder, expecting to see some sort of monster.
"Did Luke know about the tunnels?" she demands.
I sigh, half relieved and half annoyed. "I doubt he knew about this specific tunnel. I never told him about it. He might've poked around my room while I was sleeping, but even if he found the keypad, there's no way he would've guessed the pass code. It's completely random. It's not my favourite food or colour or anything like that. No matter how well he knew me, he never would've guessed." My voice is confident.
"But what about the two doors in the basement?" Clarisse persists. "I know you think they don't lead to Manhattan, but if they did–"
I shake my head. "The barrier exists down here. This place isn't like the Labyrinth; it's not–alive. Though it is almost as confusing as the Labyrinth. So even if there was an entrance to Daedalus' maze in the other tunnels, Luke wouldn't be able to find his way around. This tunnel is really the only one we have to worry about. It's a lot more straightforward than the others. From what I've heard, the others have twists and turns all over the place."
The daughter of Ares instantly relaxes. Without another word, she starts walking again, her flashlight searching the walls. I follow her lead. Neither of us speaks again for a long, long time.
I draw patterns on Luke's left hand with my fingertips while his other hand combs through my hair. We're sitting on the rock in our clearing, relaxing after training all day. Sword lessons, Pegasus riding (I ditched that class), archery, canoeing (Luke ditched that one; he's horrible at it), climbing the clashing rocks… It's a lot to do in one day. We need some downtime.
"You know," Luke says, pressing his face to my hair and breathing in deeply, "I've always wondered why your hair smells so nice."
I roll my eyes at him. "Because I wash it, stupid."
"Yes, I'm aware of that," he snaps back, pulling away from me slightly. "But I wash my hair on a regular basis too, and it doesn't smell as good as yours always does."
"That's because I use a different shampoo than you do," I say. "Girly shampoo."
"What kind do you use, then?" he asks.
I tell him, and then tease, "Why all the questions, anyways? Did you want to borrow it or something?"
"Very funny," he sneers at me. "I was just curious."
I put up my hands and shrug. "You never know. But while we're on the topic of smells—and therefore tastes—why do you always taste like gingerbread houses?"
"Do I?" Luke asks innocently. I give him a look. "Okay," he laughs, "this is a little embarrassing to admit, but… I chew gingerbread-flavoured bubblegum."
I blink in surprise. "I'm sorry, did you just say gingerbread-flavoured bubblegum?" I ask incredulously.
"Yeah. It's weird, I know. I saw it in this really odd store once, and stole it just for kicks. Then I actually started chewing it, and I've been hooked ever since," he confesses. "I chew it whenever I'm alone and I'm trying to concentrate on something. If I'm trying to read a book, or I'm trying to keep from falling out of the canoe during lessons, or even when I'm training in the Arena."
"Isn't it kind of dangerous to chew gum while you're moving around all over the place swinging a sword? Couldn't you accidentally swallow it and choke to death?" I ask, internally trying to decide if I should actually be concerned or not.
Luke laughs again. "I've faced deadly monsters before, and you think chewing on a piece of gum is going to kill me?"
"Can we talk about something else?" I ask, a little agitated.
"All right. I have another question for you," he says. He tugs on a lock of my hair, which falls down to just below my shoulders. "What made you decide to finally cut your hair?"
I shrug. "Too many split ends. And my hair has a lot more volume now. It's actually wavy on occasion instead of just pin-straight all the time."
"So you grew out your hair for years, and then you just suddenly decided it had too many split ends?" Luke asks skeptically. "Why did you even let it grow that long in the first place?"
I shift uncomfortably.
"Oh, come on! I told you about the gum thing, it's only fair!"
"I let it grow so long because–" I stop short, because I can't find the right words. "I don't know, it's kind of hard to explain. I guess it was partly to piss off my mother. But I think it was also because… Well, because it was better to be the girl with the really long hair than the girl with ears that are a bit too big, or–" (I decide not to mention the fact that my teeth are a more yellow than most people's, because that just makes me think of my mother and all the crap she put me through) "– or the girl with eyelashes that are a bit too short, or the girl with three zits on her face–"
"Three zits?" Luke looks at me like I'm crazy. "You're complaining about three zits? Dess, do you have any idea how bad my acne was from the ages of thirteen to fifteen? I had zits all over the place."
"You did?"
"Yeah. I wasn't always picture perfect, you know," he jokes.
I shove him lightly. "Ha-ha. You're hilarious. So maybe three zits aren't that bad, but you cannot tell me that my ears aren't big." My ears aren't as huge as Dumbo's or anything, but they're still larger than normal. And they're definitely large enough to be noticeable. That's why I never wear earrings. I feel like they just draw unnecessary attention to my ears.
"Well, you're right about that part," he admits. "They're not exactly your best feature. But seriously, Dess, it's not like they make you ugly or anything. Everyone has flaws. Get over it. You're beautiful. Maybe not as beautiful as someone with perfectly sized ears, but beautiful all the same."
My lips curve upward. "Really?"
Luke rolls his eyes. "Yes, really. I can't believe you actually have to ask. Haven't you ever looked in a mirror?"
"Oh, shut up."
"I'm serious here. Didn't any of your ex-boyfriends ever tell you you were beautiful?"
"How do you know I have any ex-boyfriends?" I challenge him.
"Because as rude as you sometimes are, you're not entirely anti-social." He ignores my scowl. "But now that I think about it, you've always avoided this subject."
"Luke, you glare at guys just for looking at me for more than five seconds. Why would I tell you about my ex-boyfriends?" I ask him, sounding exasperated.
"Because then I'll tell you about the girls I've dated." He grins triumphantly, sure that I won't be able to resist his offer.
He's right. "Okay, fine, I'll tell you," I groan. "When I was eleven one of the guys in my grade invited me to the Valentine's Day dance, and he was cute so I said yes. We started 'dating' after that. All we did was hold hands. He never even kissed me on the cheek. We broke up two weeks later over who got to use the red paint first in art class— Will you stop it?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Luke chokes out through his laughter. "I just find it funny. You both sound so immature."
"We were eleven," I protest. "What did you expect? Anyways, after that I decided not to date again 'til high school. When I was in grade nine—as in I was a freshman—I went out with this guy who was a year above me. We dated for like two months. He was my first kiss. Eventually we both got tired of each other and we broke up."
"Oh, I see how it is. You date guys and then you drop them when they get boring." Luke narrows his eyes at me in mock admonishment.
"I know it sounds shallow, but that's the truth. The last relationship I had was the most serious," I say, running a finger along a crack in the rock we're sitting on. Luke's face turns a little sour at the word 'serious'.
"I met this guy in my grade nine geography class. I didn't spend that much time with him until I realized he could see through the mist. We became really good friends after that; he's probably the only thing that kept me alive until I got to Camp. I didn't have that many monsters after me in the first place, but there were a few that decided to hang around my school and the park near my house every once in a while. My friend Kyle saw them all for what they were long before I even noticed anything unusual. He would warn me and I would run like hell.
"On the off chance that I couldn't run, I had a sword that my mom gave me, which apparently my dad gave her to give to me when I was old enough to understand that I was a demigod. I'm still not sure what happened to the sword. I guess I lost it somewhere. Whatever.
"Anyways, eventually Kyle stopped being just my friend. I went out with him for most of grade eleven—junior year—and then we got into a fight and we broke up a month or so before I ran away from home. I don't even remember what the fight was about. It was probably over something really stupid." I pause to take a deep breath, because I've been talking non-stop for what feels like five whole minutes. "'Kay, I'm done now. Your turn. Spill."
Luke stares at me. "Exactly how serious was your relationship with that last guy?"
I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. Pretty serious, I guess. He was my best friend for most of high school, so we were pretty close."
"…Did you love him?"
This is starting to sound familiar. "Honestly, Luke, don't you know better than to ask such an intrusive and personal question?" I try to make my voice sound as disappointed as possible.
"Dess, would you just answer the question?" Luke asks, clearly frustrated.
"No, I won't, actually," I reply. "Now you know how I felt when I asked you if you loved Thalia. And it was even worse for me, because we weren't dating yet and I thought you didn't like me."
"You seriously thought that? I made it so obvious, how could you have possibly not realized that I liked you?"
"I'm slow when it comes to those kinds of things, okay?" I answer defensively. "Kyle apparently liked me for an entire year before I even started to notice."
"And now that we're back to that guy— Would you please just tell me if you loved him?" He sounds genuinely irritated and worried now.
"Okay, fine. I didn't love him."
Luke relaxes instantly. "Good."
"Now that you're not consumed with jealousy—" I ignore all of his indignant protests. "—it's your turn."
"…All right, so I had my first kiss when I was thirteen…"
Five hours later, when we're almost in Manhattan, we take our third break. We left the safety of camp a long time ago, but thankfully no monsters have shown up. By this point I've gotten so used to the silence that when Clarisse finally speaks, her voice seems to make my ears ring.
"Do you really think the string is in the Labyrinth?" Clarisse asks me. "Because that's the conclusion Chiron came to after talking to Chris."
"And you don't believe that?"
Clarisse glares at the wall above my head. "I don't know what to believe."
"Yeah, I know what you mean." I give her a bleak smile that she probably doesn't see. "But honestly, I don't think Luke would be sending people into the Labyrinth unless he really believed that he would eventually find a way to navigate it."
"Chiron seemed to think–" Clarisse hesitates, her eyes dropping down to meet mine. "He seemed to think that this all has something to do with Daedalus."
I stare at her like she's grown a second head. "Um, isn't Daedalus dead?"
"Well, yeah," Clarisse says, "but Chiron thinks that maybe he was buried down here or something, and that the string was buried with him."
"Wouldn't it make more sense if it was buried with Ariadne?" I ask. "It was her string after all. …Oh, wait, she was never buried, was she? Dionysus made her immortal, and then they got married. Poor girl. Married to Mr. D. How much would that suck? Though I guess she doesn't have to see him that much, since he's stuck at Camp Half-Blood and–"
"Dess, shut up," Clarisse groans. "If you don't have anything useful to say, then don't say anything at all."
Her words bring the anger I've been suppressing for the past week or so to the forefront of my mind. I still remember exactly what she said to Chiron.
"What help could she possibly be?"
"You're right, Clarisse," I say, and she looks startled by the fact that I'm agreeing. "I mean," I continue, "obviously the only useful thing I can do is lead you through this tunnel. Clearly I'm not capable of doing anything else."
Clarisse's brain finally seems to register the anger in my voice. "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about. That's what you think, isn't it? That I'm entirely useless." My voice sounds incredibly bitter. "That's why you didn't want to listen to Chiron when he said I should go on this quest with you."
The confusion disappears from her face. "Oh. That's what you're mad about?"
"Of course that's what I'm mad about!" I snap at her.
"Well you shouldn't be mad about that. That's not how I meant it," she says quietly.
"Not how you– Then how did you mean it?" I ask skeptically.
"Look, I know what I said was rude, but…" she trails off. "I just didn't want you to go on this quest, okay? I didn't really mean what I said."
"Why didn't you want me to go on this quest, then, if it wasn't because you thought I would mess everything up?" I challenge her.
Clarisse snaps, jumping to her feet and glaring down at me. "Use your brain, Dess!" she shouts at me. "You saw Chris! He doesn't even recognize me half the time. He calls me Mary. He's gone completely insane. The Labyrinth drove him crazy, Dess! Why the hell would I want someone else I care about going down there?"
Her words take me by surprise. "That's why you didn't want me to come?"
"Yes, okay? Look, I know I don't say this very often, but…you're one of my best friends." She sits down again. "And if you don't walk away from this quest with your sanity intact, then I'll never forgive myself," she confesses, looking at her feet.
For a second I'm entirely speechless. Then I speak, my voice very quiet, "And you think I would've forgiven myself if I didn't go on this quest and you didn't come back at all?"
"Yeah, I know I'm being stupid. I just–" She squeezes her eyes shut tightly. "I'm just so sick of people I care about getting hurt. First it was Isabel, and now Chris–" Her voice breaks.
If this was anybody other than Clarisse, then I would probably try to hug them at this point. But this is Clarisse, so I just reach over and pat her shoulder.
"You're really worried about Chris, huh?"
"Yeah, I am," she admits shamelessly. "There are times where he seems to know who I am, but it's happening less and less lately. And he's started having these episodes where he won't eat. They don't come very often, and they don't last very long, but Mr. D says that eventually he'll just be in that state all the time, and he'll get hungrier and hungrier, and then he'll–" She breaks off, but I already know what she was going to say.
"You really believe Mr. D?"
"He's the god of madness," Clarisse reminds me. "He knows what he's talking about."
Inspiration hits me. "You're right. He is the god of madness. So he could cure Chris, couldn't he?" I grin at her, aware of the fact that I probably look ridiculously proud of myself.
Clarisse immediately bursts my bubble. "Chiron already thought of that. The day you and Thalia barged in on us, I asked Dionysus to cure Chris."
"Well that's good, then, isn't it?" I ask her. "By the time we get back, Chris will be completely cured, right?"
"Wrong."
"But you said Mr. D would–" I begin, but the daughter of Ares interrupts me before I can finish.
"I said I asked him to heal Chris, not that he agreed."
The blood drains from my face. "You mean he wouldn't–"
Clarisse laughs humourlessly. "Are you honestly surprised, Dess? When I asked him, he just said that there was no point. He said that after all Chris had done–abandoning camp, joining Luke–he didn't deserve to be saved."
I gasp. "He didn't!"
"He did. That's why he was about to strangle me when you and Thalia came charging in. I just got so mad when he said that… I tried to attack him, and before that I think I shouted–"
"How dare you," I finish for her. "Yeah, we heard you."
"Well, now you know." Clarisse gets up, brushing dust off her jeans. "We should get going. We have to find out what Luke's doing in the Labyrinth. We have to stop him, and make sure no one else ends up like Chris."
She offers me her hand. I take it and pull myself to my feet. We grab all our stuff. I take a long drink from my water bottle and Clarisse finishes off a chocolate bar that I gave her earlier. She shoves the wrapper into her pocket. We've been told so many times not to litter that we obey the rule, even though we're not at camp anymore.
We continue down the passageway until we reach a dead-end. We shine our flashlights all around. I point mine up at the ceiling only to see a manhole cover with a series of rungs leading up to it. I squint at a plaque to the right of the rungs until I make out 'Enrace to Mahatn' which I figure is 'Entrance to Manhattan'. Damn dyslexia.
I grin triumphantly and turn to Clarisse to inform her of my valuable find. She's standing motionless, staring at something on the wall opposite the makeshift ladder.
"What is it now?" I gripe, because I really want to get out of these tunnels and back into the sunlight. Though it might be raining. Actually, that would be kind of nice. I sort of miss the rain. I haven't seen it since last summer.
Clarisse still hasn't responded. Impatiently, I ask again, "What is it?"
In answer, she points wordlessly to the wall she's facing. I walk to her side and peer at the place she's indicating. At first I don't see anything out of the ordinary. Just as I'm about to complain to Clarisse that she's wasting time, I catch sight of a little triangle. Then it takes me a second to comprehend why this triangle is so important. When I finally understand, I clutch Clarisse's arm tightly.
"Please tell me that's not–"
"A Greek Delta? The mark of Daedalus? Sorry, but it is."
For a moment we just stare at it. Then we glance at each other and speak at the same time:
"Are you sure you want to–" That's Clarisse.
"Do you really think we should–" Me. Obviously.
We smile at each other wryly. Then I release Clarisse's arm, take a deep breath, and press my finger to the mark.
There's a loud rumbling noise as the wall starts to break apart until it forms a doorway. Beyond the doorway is a set of stone steps descending into a tunnel that's practically a replica of the one we're already in. But we both know this is no ordinary tunnel.
Clarisse walks forward and I follow her. We reach the stairs and head down them. At the bottom of the stairs I hesitate with one foot still on the bottom step. Finally I take that last step.
Instantly the doorway starts to slide closed. I panic. I'm about to race up the steps again, but it's already too late. The staircase is being pulled back into the wall. The door slams shut and the stairs vanished. I search the wall desperately, but there's no Greek Delta.
I turn to face the brunette daughter of Ares, clutching my flashlight in my hand like it's a lifeline. Clarisse looks back at me grimly, and then I can't deny the awful truth.
We're trapped in the Labyrinth.
Author's Note: Reviews are appreciated. Hope you're having a great day!