And with that, I charged.

I thrust my sword forward as if to impale whatever was staring at me. I almost did it too, except for something in my gut telling me to not kill it.

I'm glad I did listen to my gut, because just then, my daughter Sophia turned on the kitchen light, and stared in shock as I was just about a millimeter away from skewering Luke's heart. I stared at her, dumbfounded, still holding my blade directly in front of me.

I lowered my sword. Luke breathed a sigh of relief, and Sophia gasped.

"Dad!" she said, "What are you doing!?"

I gulped down my embarrassment and scratched the back of my head; I had no idea that it was Luke staring at me, and that my daughter was witnessing the whole thing. This looked bad; very bad.

"Well honey," I said, "I was just . . . getting some coffee and—"

"—killing my friend!" she yelled at me.

I pursed my lips, it was way too early in the morning for her to be yelling at me, but that still didn't stop her from waking up Annabeth, who marched downstairs, clearly aggravated, and stopped in the doorway when she saw me with my sword out, two feet away from Luke.

She crossed her arms, also wanting an answer. I stared at Luke, his eyes were blue and wide, and his face was pale.

I stared back at my family, shaky and kind of afraid. I capped my sword and put it back in my pocket.

"You see, I—" I started to explain, but was beaten to a sentence end by Annabeth.

"Living room." She said, not raising her voice, but still keeping authority, "Now."

I walked past them into the living room, grumbling like a child and Luke followed. So did everyone else.

I sat down on the couch, Luke sat next to me, but the women stood in front of us, both looking ticked; arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed and angry lighting flashing in their stormy grey eyes. Yep, I was in trouble again.

"What was going on there?" my wife asked.

"I turned around from getting coffee, but then Luke was there and—"

"—and you swung a sword at him." Sophia finished.

I stared at Sophia, then to Annabeth, then to Luke; all of which had the same silent words echoing from their lips. Why?

I stared at Annabeth, "His eyes were golden." I said.

Her grey eyes switched over to Luke, who was staring shocked at everyone.

"I didn't . . ." he said, "He's gone. They're blue, see." He pointed at his irises.

Annabeth turned back toward me, "Well? They're blue."

"They were gold." I said, "Just like—" I stared at Sophia; she still didn't know that Luke had been possessed. "Bad memories." I finished.

But Annabeth couldn't fool me. She's been there. She'd known Luke since she was seven. She was right beside me when he died. She knew exactly what I was talking about; and I could see that see was trying to believe me.

I looked at Luke, and mouthed the words, "Sophia doesn't know."

He nodded.

"Uh, Sophia." Luke said shakily, "Sit down, we need to talk."

I got up, and Sophia calmly took my place, she knew about Kronos, and had even met my father Poseidon. Luke knew it too.

"Let's go Annabeth." I said, "Looks like they need some catching up."

She nodded and we both headed upstairs to Annabeth's office.

It took twenty minutes of impatient waiting. With me having ADHD waiting making this tough. But then I heard a scream, Sophia's; and then a door slam.

There was an angry stomping up the stairs and an angry Sophia bowed through the doorway.

"What was that door slamming?" Annabeth asked.

"It's not important." Sophia screamed. She had an emphasis on 'it's' and I got the feeling that the conversation hadn't rolled over too nicely; uh-oh. "You knew about him?" she yelled again, "And you didn't tell me?"

"We didn't want to hurt you." I said.

"Well you did." She argued, "By not letting me know who my enemies are and letting me bring one into the house!"

"Sophia." I called; but she was already gone. I heard her bedroom door slam shut. She wasn't going back to sleep, that was for sure.

"You should go see if Luke is okay." I said.

Annabeth shrugged and trudged down the hall. I, on the other hand, went toward my daughter's room. I gulped when I saw her doorknob; it was crumpled like an aluminum can; must be that time of the month.

I knocked on the door. "Sophia . . ." I called.

"Go away." The only response I received.

I opened the door anyway. "Look Sophia," I said, "We didn't tell you about Luke because we were trying to protect you."

She glared evilly at me. "Get out." She said as she pulled out a Greek knife from under her pillow. "Or I'll make you get out."

"Sophia." I said.

"No!" she held her knife up defensively. Then I noticed something about it. That knife was the same one Annabeth used when we were kids; she had given it to her daughter. And I knew it's past.

"Listen to me." I said, "Luke's not bad anymore."

She lowered her weapon.

"And that knife," I said, "That was a gift to your mother from Luke, back when she was a kid."

Sophia glowered at the knife, and threw it to the ground, where it impaled itself in her wooden floor. Just so you know, she gets her belligerence from her mother's side of the family.

"He's not a bad guy and—"

At that point, Annabeth burst into the room. "Luke's gone." She said urgently.

I stared at my daughter, "We'll continue this later."

And then I ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door.