Chapter 4: Nine-Letter Word for Fiery Dog

Clara's age: Fifteen

"Checkmate!"

"Bu… wha? Again?" Percy glanced around the board. "No, I can move my king here."

Clara pointed at one of her bishops, feeling rather smug.

"What about here?"

"The pawn, dad."

Percy sighed and flicked his king over. This was the fifth time in half an hour.

"Another game?" Clara asked hopefully.

"I think I've had enough of getting my ass kicked today, but thanks for asking," Percy said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Normally, they would have jumped up to head over to the park, but it was pouring outside; the remnants of a hurricane were blowing over the state. Percy still kept one or two secrets from his daughter, so heading out and preventing them from getting wet as they fished was out of the question. So he picked up the Washington Post crossword puzzle and a ballpoint pen. He was never a crossword person, but Annabeth was. His mind, in its desperate belief that she was still alive, often had him continuing her habits, as sort of a placeholder until she returned.

He didn't get very far before he needed Clara's help. "Nine-letter word for fiery dog?"

"Hellhound," Clara said, without even glancing up from the novel she was blasting through.

"Right, Hellhound. Why didn't I think of that?" Percy mentally slapped himself.

"Why would you?"

"Uh… long story, really," Percy dodged his daughter's question. She was getting pretty nosy about that sort of thing lately. He suspected that she suspected something.

"What? About you and a hellhound?" Clara asked sarcastically.

"No, not a hellhound. Just, uh… a really big dog?" Percy covered unsurely.

"Was that a question or a statement?"

"Umm… a statement?"

Clara was about to make another smart ass remark when they heard a loud shriek from across the street.

"EEEEKK!" a woman yelled. "Look at the size of those dogs. God, they're like wolf-sized."

Percy and Clara jumped up and ran to the window. Sure enough, pack of massive black dogs was tearing down the street towards their house, knocking over lamp posts and tearing up pavement. But they were much, much bigger than wolves.

"Those are definitely bigger than wolves," Clara remarked, eyeing the car-sized creatures.

"Shit," Percy cursed, "we must have said 'hellhound' too many times."

"What?" Clara asked confusedly.

"Go!" Percy yelled. "Upstairs, into your room. Lock the door."

"But dad-"

"GO!"

Clara obediently climbed the stairs, but stopped as she reached the top. She watched her father from around a corner. She watched as he pulled out that all-too familiar pen, and, for once, removed the cap.

Suddenly, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a deadly sharp three feet of a bronze like metal. A determined look set upon Percy's face.

As the massive dogs bounded up the front lawn, the ground rumbled as if it was being shook my an earthquake.

What happened next was almost too quick for Clara to register. The front door made a loud snap, and flew across the small foyer, right at her dad. She covered her mouth with her hands to muffle a scream.

But, miraculously, the massive wooden frame simply bounced off Percy, smacking the first dog through the doorframe right in the snout.

The next few of the ferocious animals simply charged at Clara's father. But, with elegant swipes from his flashing blade, Percy easily turned them to dust. But more of them came. Many more. Too many for him to handle at once. As he struggled to deal with the hounds bounding through the door, the ones that escaped riptide's deadly swipes were beginning to sneak around the edges, encircling him.

Clara, as anyone who's around her for more than ten seconds could figure out, wasn't stupid. She recognized that her father needed help. Recalling the room she had visited several years prior, she sprinted frantically down the hallway. There was no time to find the key. Fortunately, Clara was a runner. So one swift kick, and the door swung open as its reinforced wooden frame cracked under the pressure of keeping it in place.

She grabbed at the first weapon she saw- a five-foot spear- and made her way back to the front of the house. Her father was presently occupied in what looked like a staring contest with a trio of particularly black and massive, black and massive dogs. Clara's attention was fixated for a moment on an ominously swirling vortex of water hovering over her father's head. The three dogs kept glancing up at it nervously.

A flurry of activity caught Clara's attention. She reacted, very uncharacteristically, without thinking. Spear in hand, she jumped clear over the stair rail. Her landing was perfect, and it flowed without pause into a professional looking combat roll. She came up out of the roll smoothly on one knee, directly behind her father, with her spear braced against her side and the ground. Just in time for a charging car-dog, unnoticed by Percy, to run up against it.

This burst of movement had caught Percy's attention, and he whipped his head around. He was startled to see his daughter, with a braced spear, being showered in golden monster-dust.

The other three hellhounds noticed that Percy was momentarily distracted and took that opportunity to charge. Percy, currently busied in gaping astonishedly at his daughter, took no notice. In another instance of surprising aptitude for combat despite a lack of training, Clara, almost unthinkingly, took control of her father's hovering water vortex, and neatly washed the hellhounds out the front door.

Percy turned his head again, blinked a few times, surveyed the devastated room carefully, and, satisfied, capped his sword. He turned to see his daughter, hunched on the floor, staring at her spear in utter disbelief.

"Clara…" Percy started, walking over to his daughter.

"How… what?" Clara stammered. She was too stunned to really speak. Whatever had come over her, causing her to act so swiftly and in such a level-headed way, had left with the danger. Now she just squatted, as her brain tried and failed to process whatever had just happened.

Percy pried the spear from her tense, clammy fingers. "It seems," he said slowly, "your defensive instincts are even stronger than mine were."

"Defensive…instincts," Clara repeated incoherently, still looking at the spear as her father threw it to the side.

"Let's go eat," Percy said, gently helping her to her feet. "I suppose I have some explaining to do."

Clara sat at the kitchen table, still looking a little shell-shocked. At least she was blinking now. That had to be a good sign, Percy figured as he dug though the highest cabinets, looking for an old stash of special food. He found what he was looking for, and pulled it out.

"What… what were those things?" Clara asked slowly, carefully, as if she thought that doing anything too fast would fry her brain.

Percy sat across from his daughter and looked at her closely, then glanced at the spear. There's only one place she could have found that. "You're a smart girl. I think you know the answer."

Clara closed her eyes. "Hellhounds," she breathed.

"So what can you conclude from that?" Percy asked, handing a small square piece of food to her. She looked at it strangely, then took a bite.

"I can think of a number of hellhounds. Gwyllgi or Cŵn Annwn of Welsh mythology, the yeth hound of Devon folklore…"

"I'll give you another hint," Percy said, reaching for the spear. "That food you just ate was ambrosia. And this spear," he handed it to her, shaft first, "is made of celestial bronze. Or, as it is more commonly called by Historians, Adamant."

Clara took the spear in her hands. "The metal of the gods."

Percy nodded. "Cronus used and adamant sickle to castrate Uranus. The Greek hero Perseus used an adamant sword given to him by Athena to kill Medusa."

"And ambrosia… the food of the gods."

"Too much will kill you. In moderation, though, it can work wonders on your health and restore you to your wits," Percy informed her.

"So you're telling me," Clara reasoned, "that Greek Mythology is… real?"

"Yes."

"And the Gods?"

"Real too," Percy confirmed.

Clara chuckled. "And here I was, an Atheist all this time." She sighed sadly. Then something occurred to her. "The lady outside… she yelled that they were wolf-sized. Clearly those hellhounds were far larger."

"A force called 'the mist'," Percy explained, "hides elements of… our world. From everyone else."

"Everyone else? That makes us…"

"Demigods," Percy finished. "Half-bloods. Half-mortal, half god." He considered this for a moment. "At least I am. Not too sure about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are the daughter of two demigods. I suppose that makes you a half-blood as well…"

Clara thought for a moment. "So your dad was… Poseidon, I guess. I mean, you and your water. Me and my water, for that matter…"

"Yep."

"Poseidon… not Grandpa Paul."

Percy shook his head. "Paul is my stepdad."

Clara nodded tentatively. "So I'm going to guess that my maternal grandmother is Athena."

Percy raised a joking eyebrow. "Now, I wonder how you figured that out."

"Well, seeing as I'm a child genius and all…"

"Oooh. And modest, too," Percy taunted.

The conversation slowed down in a faint bravado of tiny chuckles. Clara took a deep breath. "I have a confession, dad."

"Hmm?"

"I've been in that room."

Percy nodded, expecting this. "You're a granddaughter of Athena. I knew you wouldn't be able to hold back your curiosity forever."

"I watched the beginning of that tape."

"Which tape?"

"The one recorded by… I think his name was Grover."

Percy sighed. "Oh. That tape."

"Tell me about her," Clara pried.

"Who?"

"Annabeth Chase."

Percy winced. Thinking about her was always painful. It ignited an internal war within him. His logic centers told him she was dead, that she was never coming back. But the rest of him, the stubborn part that usually got the better of him, refused to accept it.

But, for his daughter's sake, he swallowed the pain and launched into the long-overdue explanation.

Aren't I mean? Bwa ha ha! Mine is an evil laugh!

It may be some time until the next chapter; my alter ego has some mapping to do for the good folks over at EAW files. But don't worry; it won't be too long. I'm just as anxious to see the end of this as you are.

In the meantime, review, review, review!