Disclaimer: I am a fangirl, not Rick Riordan. *hangs head*

Rating: T (adult language; adult content)

Quote: Brainy Quote

Image: Google Images

Chapter Four

Of Gods and Gutters

I've missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.

-Michael Jordan

~Evelyn~

Silence was often the best form of conversation.

The car drove along the highway, the ignition humming quietly. Countless of cars passed by the old, beat-up pickup truck that the boy had led me to. Street lamps bathed the black asphalt in yellowish light, and the moonless sky shone down on us, the first hints of stars beginning to show. I kept my eyes on the road. There was nothing to say, and so I didn't speak. There was no sense in wasting my breath for something that I didn't want to find out. As the boy drove, he sent furtive glances my way, but I ignored him. Some things were better left alone.

I remembered the look on his face when I said that my mother was dead. It was a look of pure shock, and his face had drained to the color of double-burnt ashes. The sound of sirens had been slowly growing, and as there was the sound of doors closing and snapping, he had grabbed my hand, dragging me outside to a parking lot. He shouted at me to hurry, and, numbly, I had opened the door to a rusty, creaky old pickup truck. I hadn't questioned any of it. The shock of seeing my mother's dead body on the floor had made me abandon all reason. There seemed no reason that I should listen to this boy, but on the other hand, I had just seen him turn a huge monster into a cascade of golden dust. Now, thirty minutes later, my mind was just beginning to recuperate from the shock.

"I'm sorry." My head snapped up, shocked as the first words of the boy came out of his mouth since I had admitted my mother's death. His cheeks tinged. "Look, it was my job to get you both out of there alive. I really am sorry. It was my fault that she died. I should- I should have been paying more attention to her instead of the creature. I'm so sorry, Evelyn." I swallowed. The boy had broken the silence, and now that he had, there were a thousand questions whirring in my head. A thousand things I could have said, or asked. There was only one thing that came out, however.

"What?" I shook my head at him. "It's- just- I'm going to ask you a favor, okay?" I gazed into his ice blue eyes, the intensity of his gaze startling. "Don't mention my mom. Our relationship was rocky at best. Now… Now, it's like there are all these things left unsaid that I'll never get to say to her. I'll never be able to tell her." Tears burned in my eyes. "She wanted me to be something else than I was, you know? And now I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this, or why I'm in this car. I barely know you. In fact, I don't really know you at all. And I'm in this car, and my mom is dead because a monster attacked her, and I don't know if I'm going crazy, and I keep wanting to pinch myself, because I want this to all be a dream so badly. I want to wake up in my plain, boring apartment, get a Starbucks coffee, and go practice piano all day long. I want to hear my mother yell at me for being late, and I want to go to the opera, but I want Gerard to be normal, and I want my mother to yell at me when we get home. I want you to be a normal boy. I want my life to be alright again. I just… I want to start the day over, and have everything be okay." I shook my head as tears spilled down my face. "I'm still not sure why I'm even telling you all this. It's just- just- look, just ignore me, 'kay? I'm not really right in the head right now. At all." I held my arms to my chest, hearing horrible, wracking sobs. The worst part was, they were coming from me.

The boy pulled over to the side of the road. I looked up. He stared straight ahead, his expressions unreadable. "I'm sorry," he said. "I- my entire life, I've grown up with monsters. My parents brought me into this world, and, trust me, my family and I have had our differences, and it's a tough life. I lost my friend to it. She- she didn't deserve to die. She was a good person, but she didn't know what she was getting into. Mari-" he shook his head, as if dispelling an unpleasant memory, which, I supposed, he was. "My point is, I don't know what you're going through. This world of monsters is the one that I've grown and been raised in. I'm not just a boy, though. I can answer questions." He smiled weakly. "Go on. Shoot. I really hate silence."

I swallowed. What would I even ask him? There were so many things I wanted to inquire, and, pulled over on the highway about thirty minutes away from New York City, there wasn't really any time. There was, however, one thing that was absolutely killing me. "Who the hell are you?" I asked, shaking my head.

The boy cracked a smile. He leaned back in his chair. "Who am I?" he mused. "Where to begin? Well, I guess I'll start here. My name is William Lucas Grace. I am descended from the Roman god Jupiter, king of all Roman gods, lord of the sky. I'm also descended from the Greek goddess Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. Then, there's the bit of Cherokee in my blood- that's on my mom's side. My grandfather is Tristan McLean, and my grandmother was an eighties television host. I have been trained since thirteen years old to fight Greek and Roman monsters, to protect mortals, and to keep demigods safe. I have four siblings, two parents, and aunt, and a best friend named Reese. Next question?"

I gaped at him. "Descended from Jupiter and Aphrodite? What the- what are you even talking about? Tristan McLean? Eighties- television- what are you talking about? Greek, Roman and Cherokee?" My mind was whirling. "That's impossible!"

William held out his hand. The car was dark one moment, and the next, it was lit by an otherworldly light. His long, slender fingertips glowed with an otherworldly bluish light, illuminating his angular face. He grinned. "Still thinking it's impossible?" Lightning crackled as sparks danced off of his fingertips, falling to the chair like dying embers. My mouth dropped, and, unaware that I was doing it, my hand floated out. I shrank back hastily at his raised eyebrow.

"Amazing," I said softly, tilting my head to look at the lights. My eyes went up to meet his. "What is this world that you keep speaking of?" The question was the real one that I wanted to ask, but I blurted out another one before I could have the chance to think if that was a good idea or not. "And… what attacked my mother?"

William extinguished the sparks with a wave of his hand. "The creature that attacked your mother is called a Mormo. It's an ancient Greek spirit who is, essentially, a vampire. They're not the most dangerous that I've seen, but certainly not too easy to kill. The world that we live in is one of mythology." At my raised eyebrow, he hurried to explain. "Greek and Roman mythology, to be precise."

"Greek and- and- Roman mythology." I strained my brain. In classes, I hadn't been stupid, but I hadn't been smart, either. I usually got an A in Science, Math, and specials, and a B in Language Arts, World History, and Drama. Furrowing my eyebrows, I willed myself to think. Roman mythology- I thought back to the dark days of middle school. From what I remembered, the Romans were Christian at one point, but they copied all of their gods from the Greeks, who had the council of Twelve Olympians and minor gods besides. Furrowing my eyebrows, I bit my lip. Think, Evie. Think! "The Olympians?" I said weakly.

William's eyebrows shot up. "Be careful with names," he warned. "They can be tricky. But, yes. The Olympians exist, and as do their Roman counterparts. The Greek, technically, are known as Dodekathon, and the Roman are technically known as Dii Consentes. The gods exist, and as do the monsters- including the one that you saw today." He gazed at me with a pitying glance.

I massaged my temples. "This doesn't make a lick of sense." The memory of Melody still haunted me, much as I tried to push it away. "Wouldn't other mortals have died from all of the monsters or tricksters? The Greeks loved their tragedies, and, for that matter, the Romans did too. How are thousands upon thousands of mortals not dying every day?"

"The Mist," he said. At my questioning look, William elaborated. "It's the magical barrier of Hecate, Greek goddess of magic, or, in her Roman form, Trivia. The Mist prevents mortals without the Sight to see through that barrier. Next question?"

My mind was reeling. This sixteen year-old boy was reminding me of my Latin teacher, Mr. Stello. I wondered what would happen if the two ever got into a debate about mythology. The thought almost brought a smile to my face, but I pushed it away. "Okay. So this… Mist thing. Say that it does exist. Why could I see the monster, then, and why haven't I noticed anything before now?"

"It's not all that strange, really. Humans-" at this, something in his face flickered, but I decided to let it slide. The night had been strange enough already without more complications. "Humans see what they want to see. If you think, hard, you'll find memories that you've pushed away. Think, Evelyn."

I did think. Memories came to me unbidden. Once, when I was five years old, I had gone to the playground with Melody. I had been on the monkey bars, when, suddenly, a blast of wind made me lose my balance and fall to the ground. I had looked up, furrowing my eyebrows, wiping my red hands on my jeans and brushing off the mulch, and I had seen what looked like an evil transparent spirit watching me with fangs. Melody had scooped me up in her arms and whisked me away, telling me to be more careful. Before now, the memory had been so long ago that I had pegged it on being just a dream, but now I wasn't so sure. Other memories came to me, then. A tall man in a black overcoat in the rain, staring at me through the windows of my sixth-grade school bus. A green skinned woman with billowing hair floating in the water when Melody had taken me to the Bahamas. At the time, I thought it was the trick of the light. My jaw dropped as I looked back into Will's eyes, done with my reverie.

"Yeah," he said, nodding at my stunned expression. "Welcome to the world of the gods, Evelyn.
Next question? I'm pretty much waiting on you here." I was in shock. My entire world had just been turned upside down, and William was so calm about it, like he did this every day. Though, knowing the boy and his surprises, it wouldn't be too much of a shock. "Hello? We have to get to camp at some point, and though I have a lot of time, I really don't want to battle another monster."

"Yeah, okay," I said, shaking my head. "What's this camp you keep talking about? And how do I tie into all of this? What do I even have to do with this world? There's nothing special about me. I'm pretty much the most ordinary kid you could meet. My mom is special, maybe, but not me. Why am I, of all people, being sucked into this world? What do I have that's so special? The 'Sight'? Where are you taking me?"

William blinked. For the first time since I started asking my torrential downpour of questions, he looked a little dazed. "That's a lot of questions," he managed to say, before shaking his head, as if clearing out an invisible delirium. He took a deep breath. "We're going to Camp Half-Blood. It's the only safe place for people like us. Half-Bloods. That's why you're special, Evelyn."

My lips parted. "Excuse me?" I said. "Half-Bloods? Is that some kind of racist term?" My mother, as far as I could figure, was Welsh, and I had no idea what my father was. I didn't see why it would be racist, but if it was, William had it coming for him. I slapped William across the face, the crack echoing in the car. I glared at him furiously.

He yelped, putting his hand to his cheek where a red welt was. "Holy Hera, you hit hard!" he said, cursing a stream of profanities under his breath. William looked at me ruefully. "You're not even the first girl to slap me, either. You're the second." He touched his cheek gingerly. "What did you do that for?"

I stared at him. My eyes narrowed. He had tripped a bit over his words when he said that I wasn't the first girl to slap him. "This other girl that slapped you. Is she the same one that you talked about earlier? Mary? The one who paid the price for not knowing about this- this mythology world when she was a big part of it?" I tilted my head, studying him.

He turned away, his expression unreadable. William swallowed, hard. "Why did you slap me?" he said, ignoring my questions. Ooh. Touchy subject, Evie. Don't go prying. It's not polite, as much as the meddler inside you wants to. Bad Evie. Very, very bad Evie. Melody had always said that I liked to pry far more than was good for any human being. She would cluck her tongue at me, saying, "One day, Evelyn, you won't like the answer that they have to give to you." It was good advice, and though I knew I should follow it, I pried anyway.

"William, who is this girl?" I said. "You've made references twice now to her. What happened? How long has it been since you've seen her?" I knew, somewhere that I should really, really stop. There was nothing good that could come from my meddling, except for perhaps my own personal benefit.

His jaw tightened. "Look, no offense, Evelyn, but she's sort of personal. She was- well, not my friend, really, a long time ago. I've mostly forgotten her- well, I've been trying. It's not easy, believe me. She's not someone that you just forget." He shook his head. "Personal information. So if you could please not talk about my personal life and friends; that would be great." His gaze was piercing. There was a cutting edge to his voice that had not been there before. I swallowed. The message was clear: Don't bring her up again.

Nevertheless, my tricky mind was already set at work. Mary. I could figure out more about this girl named Mary at camp, regardless of who I had to offend. I had done this sort of thing before- when my English teacher went missing for six months without explanation, I decided to do a little peeking around. Turns out, she ran away to Istanbul with her rich boyfriend. When Melody's date seemed on edge whenever we mentioned wine, we realized that was because he was an alcohol smuggler. Usually, these answers were a bit outlandish, but remembering the previous chain of events that had happened tonight, I decided to put the 'outlandish' remarks aside. They really shouldn't be talking.

"Right. Sorry," I said, though I wasn't, not really. "And I slapped you because you made that half-blood remark. That's really racist, you know. I don't have to go to this camp with anybody if you're going to be racist like that."

William nearly choked. "Racist? Half-Blood?" He shook his head at me. "Evelyn, do you think I would be a racist person? I'm Cherokee, Greek, Roman, and American. Four races that I know of almost directly. Seriously. If you think about it too hard, my grandfather is sea foam. So please. Don't even start on racist. Half-Blood is a literal way of saying things. You're half human."

My heart jarred in my chest. I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. "Half… human? Not wholly human?" My entire world had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. Now, it was being smashed into a billion tiny fragments. We were in a rusty orange beat-up pickup truck, stranded on the Montauk Highway, and I felt as if I were about to throw up with the overload information.

Some night I was having.

William shook his head, though he gave me a sympathetic glance. "No. Not entirely human. I'm sorry, Evelyn." His voice really did sound apologetic, though I wasn't entirely inclined to believe him. This boy was starting to give me a migraine.

"Then what's the other half of me?" I demanded, the words coming out sharper than I intended. "Half demon? Half Satan? Look, buddy, I'm sorry that I made you uneasy with mentioning your dead girlfriend or something, but-"

"I said not to mention her!" he said, seething. "She wasn't my girlfriend, alright? I didn't even know her for all that long. But am I bringing up your mother every moment of this conversation, Evelyn? No. I'm not. Why? Because I have a heart, that's why. If you could please, please, please shut the effing hell up and really stop going on about what you're half of, I could explain it. Don't mention her again. Are we clear?" His words were more cutting than I had ever heard in my entire life. I leaned back a bit from him, my eyes wide.

I was beginning to think that this girl might just be a little bit of a mystery that I wanted to investigate. Though I knew that I probably shouldn't meddle- William was right. He wasn't bringing up my mom, and so I shouldn't bring up his dead girlfriend, or whatever he wanted to call her- I thought that I was probably going to anyway. There was a story behind this girl, and there was likely someone at camp who knew at least a little bit about her. I would unearth this mystery if it was the last thing that I did.

"We're clear," I said quietly. Pretending would just have to do for now. William had made it very certain that he wasn't going to discuss Mary, and I wasn't going to press him to. Frankly, boys who could shoot lightning out of their fingertips were probably not the best ones to piss off. "Crystal clear, actually."

"Good." He relaxed visibly, and I was almost guilty that I fully intended to meddle even after his warning. Almost. "Now, as I was saying, I'm going to explain if you just give me a chance. You're a Half-Blood. Not as in racist, as in terms of half-human, half-god." He paused for a moment as if to let this sink in.

I stared at him. "Are you serious? You're saying that my father is a god? Uh, I hate to break it to you, William, but my dad is a deadbeat who decided to use my mother as a sex toy and made me as an unplanned, unpleasant result. Sorry to burst your bubble, but that's pretty much just the way it is. Now, if you could please let me drive, so that I can steer this car towards an asylum; that would be great."

William's gaze was pitying. "Call me Will," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Evelyn. I know that this is a lot to handle in six hours, but it's pretty much what has to happen. If it makes you feel any better, the Titanic sunk in three hours. There's a lot that can happen in a matter of hours."

"Oh, great. Now you're comparing my night to the Titanic. Which, sadly enough, is actually kind of fitting for me right now." I massaged my temples. "You have got to be kidding me. You have to be. This is just-" There were so many things I could have said. In the past three or four hours, my mother had died from an ancient Greek monster known as a Mormo. A strange boy who claimed to be descended from Greek and Roman gods had driven me away in a gross pickup truck, and then had proven his heritage by shooting sparks out of his fingertips. Then, of course, as if that wasn't all enough, I found out that the Greek and Roman mythology stories were true. There was mythology. And, to top the cake, a god had fallen in love with Melody and sired me. Me. Who was, apparently, now a demigod.

This was the worst night of my life, without a doubt.

Yet, as I knew that there were a dozen different things that I could have said, I decided to say a different one. "Call me Evie," I said finally, sticking out my hand so that Will could shake it. My life had changed. I still wanted to curl up into a ball and sob for hours about the loss of my mother. In fact, I felt pretty much akin to a dishrag: dirty, wrung out, and used.

Yet, as Will took my hand, shaking it in his firm grip, his touch sending sparks flying up my arm- quite literally, a few embers danced off of him- I figured that this world was different. It was certainly bad, but I wanted to know more about this world of the gods. Thus far, I was not entirely impressed with the appeal. I would give nearly anything to be sitting at home with a steaming mug of tea in my pajamas.

Like it or not, that wasn't my world anymore, this was. I needed to buck up and be strong. Taking a deep breath, I spoke the words that I knew would change my life. If I changed just the verb into a negative form, it would have changed, but, predictably, I said the words that would lead me away from the only life I had ever known.

My mother was dead.

My father was a god.

I was a demigod.

"Take me to this camp," I said.

Will's face broke out into the grin. There was the sound of grinding machinery as he turned the key into the ignition, the rusty old pickup truck whirring and groaning as he brought it to life. The headlights illuminated the black asphalt road before me, and he swerved onto the road, taking me to my new life.

~Caroline~

The knife skittered across the floor.

My lips pinched together tightly. Moonlight shone down onto the fighting arena, bathing the floor in a silvery, pearly light. The knife shone on the floor, its bronze metal illuminated by the waning crescent in the inky black sky. I walked forward, my combat boots clicking as I strode. Muttering under my breath, I picked up the knife and set my shoulders in resolve. This was my hundred-something attempt to throw the knife with a flick of my wrist, as Percy had demonstrated, and so far, each try was nearly worse than the last. I was improving at the rate of a banana slug.

My entire family had anger management issues, and we all dealt with it in different ways. My brother Will had the worst temper of anybody I had ever met- he once attacked my 'cousin' Selene Valdez. Will tended to go a bit overboard with his anger management issues,-or lack thereof, really- doing things like blowing holes into the Big House's porch with his lightning. My younger sister Janie would go to a secluded area and focus all of her energy into one project, and though the projects (like making a dress, for example) usually ended up being terrible, she didn't destroy any houses. My younger brother Reid, back when I knew him, used to chuck his toys at the wall, and I hadn't the slightest idea what my youngest sister Audrey did. My father threw himself into his work, and my mother yelled at her children. We all had our own ways of dealing with our anger. Me? I used to listen to music. Now, I trained. It was midnight, true, but I had to do something.

Stupid Chiron, I thought. He had just left me on a cliffhanger. If there was something that I could do to help my friend, then I wanted to know about it. I didn't want to just stay in this stupid camp. I wanted to get out and go. I was ADHD, after all. He couldn't seriously expect that I would just leave the situation like that.

With a flick of my wrist, I sent the knife flying towards the target. It bounced off of the side of the circular base, sliding across the floor. I gritted my teeth in anger. How on earth Percy had managed to master this skill at fifteen was beyond me. Sometimes, it seemed as if Percy was in a league all his own. I had never seen anyone in my life fight as well as he did, and I had never actually witnessed him in an actual fight. It was no surprise that he always ended up on the winning side of the war: he was the modern-day Achilles. The Hectors of the other sides just weren't a match for him.

"Caroline." I whirled, my heart thrumming in my throat. A girl stepped out of the shadows, her body long and lithe as a cat. She snickered, her laugh echoing throughout the fighting arena. Short green hair in a pixie cut shone on top of her head, and piercings running up her ears glittered in the starlight. Her fingernails were painted a dark, vibrant purple, sharpened into claws. Ripped jeans with numerous marker doodles clung tightly to her legs, and her black Doc Martens gleamed with the dull shine of rubber. Bangles chimed on her wrists, and a medallion with the symbol of Hecate- a silvery wheel thing with roads of labyrinthine patterns interwoven throughout it, with a six-sided star in the center- shone in her chest. Her bronze cat eyes glittered with mirth.

My shoulders relaxed. "Scylla, you scared the crap out of me," I said, closing my eyes. The twenty-two year-old head counselor of the Hecate cabin smirked smugly, and I rolled my eyes, walking over to where a yellow Igloo cooler full of water stood. Grabbing a plastic cup of water from a stack on the top of the cooler and filling it up with ice-cold water, I turned back to her. "What are you even doing here? It's late at night. I thought you needed a solid sixteen hours of sleep."

Scylla scowled. "You can't get sixteen hours of sleep when your idiot siblings go on and brew a potion incorrectly, making the entire cabin smell like horse shit. Even I couldn't sleep in those conditions. I'm pretty sure that the pegasus stables smell better than that." She walked over to the rows of shining silver bleachers and sat down, crossing her legs and leaning back. "That's actually what I did. I went over and tried to sleep in the pegasus stables."

"Oh, please tell me that one of the pegasi pooped on you or something equally as hilarious. I really need some good news for my day right now." I tried to flick my wrist and throw the dagger towards the target again, my back to Scylla. It flew almost a foot wide, and I cursed under my breath.

"Oi, friend! Where's the love?" Scylla said, faking a wounded expression. I glared at her, plopping my hands on my hips. She sighed. "Alright, fine. I tried to sleep in the stables, but couldn't, because stupid Percy Jackson found me snoozing away with a bunch of hay in my mouth. He kicked me out. Apparently, I wasn't allowed to invade on the pegasi's living space. Can you believe that? Stupid Percy Jackson. What does he know about pegasi, anyway?"

I raised an eyebrow at her, picking up my knife again. "Sy, Percy's dad invented the horse. His dad also fathered the Pegasus. Pegasus is technically Percy's half-brother. That's not even mentioning that Percy went on a bunch of quests with Pegasus. He called him- what? Blackjack, I think? Anyway, I'm pretty sure that Percy knows a bit more than you about Pegasus than you do."

"But I was sleeping!" Scylla complained. "You see these? The cat eyes?" She pointed to her glittering, slitted eyes. I rolled my eyes. They weren't really cat eyes; they were just golden colored. "They need lots and lots and lots of sleep. We aren't allowed to sleep in that late! I really needed to not be woken up. What's Percy's problem, anyway? I really don't see the big deal."

"Scylla." The word was cutting, and I hoped my message was very clear: you know very well what Percy's problem is. In fact, you probably know better than a lot of people in this camp. Her angular features softened a bit, and she looked down at her Doc Martens. "Look, if you need a place to sleep, then why don't you just ask Chiron if the Hecate cabin can sleep in the Big House for tonight, or at least until your siblings get the smell out?"

Scylla frowned at me. "We've tried that already, Carrie. We were met by Mr. D, though, and he was a big stickler about the whole thing." Thunder rumbled in the distance, though the inky sky remained cloudless. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!" she shouted to the sky. "And Jadu and Jinx- they're twins, brother and sister, and caused this whole mess- are already stuck in the cabin, trying unsuccessfully to fix their mess. Needless to say, they're failing." I tried to throw the knife again, and missed by nearly three feet this time. I swore. "Caroline, what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to throw this knife and actually hit the target, like I'm supposed to," I said miserably. "Percy said that if I were to throw the knife in real life, then I needed to quicken my reflexes. He said that monsters weren't going to wait for me to steady my hand." I turned towards her. "Any chance that he's wrong and I can take my sweet time?" I asked in a cheery voice. Scylla shook her head at me.

"Uh- no. Monsters won't wait for you to position yourself." Scylla hefted herself off of the bleachers and walked over to the knife. She weighted it in her hand, and then went over to where I was standing. "At the same time, though, you're doing this wrist-flicking thing completely wrong. You- you have to think of the knife as an extension of your arm, right? Just kind of flow it out and do it like that." Without blinking, Scylla flicked her wrist deftly. The knife went sailing over to the target, where it hit just outside of the bull's eye. "Dammit," she said. "I'm out of practice."

I choked out a laugh. "I'm never going to get that good," I said miserably. "I bet that even Will could manage this. I'm a shoddy fighter. End of story." Defeated, I slumped and sat down on the bleachers, putting my head in my hands and groaning. Scylla laughed. I looked up, narrowing my eyes. "What are you chuckling at?"

"I didn't manage this move until a year ago. It's a lot harder than it looks, and I'm also an incredibly crappy teacher. Much as I hate to admit it, Percy stick-a-pole-up-my-arse Jackson is probably a lot better at this than I am." She sat down next to me. "Besides, you don't even need to use a weapon with the monsters. All you need to do is snap your fingers."

My muscles went rigid. "No." I knew exactly what she was talking about. My mother was descended from Aphrodite, and somehow, she had indirectly passed on the powers of seduction. With a literal snap of my fingers, I could make less resistant beings with very little mind control fall in love with me. "Sy, I don't want monsters to fall in love with me. Could you even imagine?" I shuddered. "Just… no. Okay?"

"Fine," Scylla said, examining her pointed fingernails. "Whatever you say, Caroline. Although, I do have a very relevant piece of information that you might like to know," she said in a sing-song voice, wiggling her eyebrows. "Oh, come on. Don't you want to know my information?"

"Scylla, last time you said you had information, it turned out to be that you duct-taped Wanda Mizushima's mouth shut, decorated her with whipped cream and honey, and then hung her upside-down from the ceiling of the Isis cabin." My jaw set. "Which, by the way, was a complete waste of my time."

"Ooh, somebody's cranky," Scylla said. "Okay, fine. This piece of information actually is pretty good. It has to do with your brother." She grinned, seeing that she had instantly ensnared my attention. Thank gods that she's grinning, I thought. He's probably not dead, then. That's always good.

"What? Is he back?" I leapt up from the bleachers as Scylla laughed. "Where is he? Gods, he was supposed to be back forty-five minutes ago. Scylla! Where is my brother?" My eyes were searching in her face, but Scylla merely made the zipped-lip gesture and went on ignoring me. My hand itched to slap her in the face. "Scylla!"

She sighed. "Okay, okay. Fine. I give up. Your brother got back like ten minutes ago. He's in the Big House with Chiron, trying to figure out the new girl that he brought back. Apparently, he's in some deep shit, because he let the girl's mother die or something. I'm pretty sure that Mr. D's about to blow up. A shade that purple just cannot be healthy for anyone's complexion."

I was already moving, grabbing my ratty old Chicago sweatshirt from where it laid on the bleachers. "Thank you!" I called, tugging the hoodie on. I must have looked like I was having a spasm, but I couldn't help it. When your only family was Will and Percy, you tended to thank the gods what you had. "Bye!"

Rolling her eyes, Scylla said, "Bye!" She stood, stretching her limbs and arching her back, very much like a cat. I started running towards the Big House, my mind whirring at a thousand miles per hour, like a very advanced piece of machinery. My thoughts went back to Scylla.

I had befriended the girl when I had first become fostered at the camp three years ago. She had been one of the only ones not to judge me immediately after my brother Will's stunt of blasting a hole into the porch. She had just smirked, waving her fingernails. Immediately, I had become intrigued. When I asked Scylla why she didn't judge me as well, she simply shrugged and told me that, as the goddess of magic was her mom, there tended to be some pretty bad magic tricks demonstrated by her siblings.

As Scylla and I became better friends, she had started unraveling her story, piece by piece. Apparently, her father had been a French street magician (her first words to me had been: Parlez-vous français?) when he met Hecate. They had fallen in love, and, voila, Scylla was born. Her father moved to New York City when Scylla was six after he was revealed to be a con artist, but the French Interpol tracked her dad down to New York City. They put Scylla in foster care, but the young girl ran away after about a year in the system. When she was around seven, she arrived at camp with a Hydra in tow. A woman named Annabeth had been residing in camp at the time, and she killed the Hydra, burning it up with a hastily constructed torch. Since then, Scylla had been at Camp Half-Blood, where she had neither the French Interpol nor the New York City foster care system to contend with.

My thoughts were still on Scylla when I ran right into someone. I gritted my teeth, looking up. "Hey, watch where you're going-" I said, but then trailed off. Standing before me was the scariest man that I had ever seen in my life.

He was tall and gangly, and looked to be in his mid-thirties. Lanky black hair framed his alabaster skin, and his dark onyx eyes blinked back at me. He was dressed in all leather, and looked as if he could melt into the shadows and dissolve into nothingness. "Perhaps you should watch yourself," he said, his tone cutting, and then strode away.

I shook my head, watching him walk towards the cabins. Half of me wondered if I should raise some sort of alarm. That man didn't look natural. Though I had the feeling that I had seen him before- hanging around important meetings, perhaps- he had a certain feeling emanating off of him that I couldn't seem to shake. It had the same sort of vibe as my Aunt Hazel's gemstones did; a deadly sort of glow. Shivers crawled up my spine. Sending a furtive glance towards the Big House, where my brother was waiting, I decided to take a chance and follow the man.

Trying to creep stealthily, I slunk into the shadows. I knew that I was probably failing miserably. Jupiter and Aphrodite typically liked to be the center of attention, not hang out in the shadows. Now that I thought about it, all of the gods liked attention, even Hermes. My lips pressed together tightly. I needed to figure out what this man was doing here.

The man's strides were long, and I nearly had to run to keep up with him. His shoulder blades stuck out from his aviator jacket. His footsteps were nearly soundless as they padded on the grass. No wonder I didn't see him coming, I thought, nearly in novelty. Then I stopped stock-still in my tracks as I saw where the man was heading to. It was a cabin, but one that nobody but my Aunt Hazel ever visited. I swallowed, hard.

It was a black, windowless, obsidian cabin. The polished stone seemed to gleam dangerously in the cold light of the silvery moon, though the light almost seemed to dull and fade off into darkness as it penetrated closer to the cabin. A skull was mounted above the doorway. Cabin thirteen. The Hades cabin. A lump rose in my throat. Not possible, I thought. There was no way that this man was a child of Hades.

All of a sudden, a hand grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. I screamed, the tension in finding the strange man and the fright from Scylla coming out in a high-pitched shriek. Turning around, I saw the man glaring at me. "What do you think you're doing?" he said. He had a strange lilt to his words. I swallowed. "I asked you a question, girl. Just what do you think you're doing?"

I kicked him in the leg. With a start of surprise, he dropped me. I fell to the floor, wiping my hands on my shorts. "Just what do you think you're doing?" I said, my voice trembling slightly. "That's not your cabin! You're not allowed to go in there! What are you? Some sort of demon?" My eyes flitted to the side. I silently prayed that someone had heard my scream. I didn't want to die a premature death. There wasn't even a weapon that I could use. My mind drifted back to the practicing, and my hand slowly floated to the waistband of my shorts, where I kept my dagger sheath. Sure enough, I felt a solid shape inside of the sheath. My knife from earlier. I slowly tugged it out, hoping he wouldn't notice.

The man set his jaw. His eyes darted down to my subtle movements. Sighing, he waved his hand. "Put the knife away," he said, his voice suddenly tired, though his eyes remained sharp and alert. "You're Piper and Jason's kid, right? The oldest one?" My heart froze in my chest. How on earth could he know that?

"Depends. You're the creepy stalker who tries to break into the Hades cabin in the middle of the night, right? The one dressed in all black?" I crossed my arms, hoping that he didn't notice the tremor in my voice that conveyed just how terrified I was. Swallowing, I took a furtive step back.

The man scowled. "I'm not a creepy stalker, and I'm not breaking into the Hades cabin. This really is my cabin." His body language tensed. "Who are you?" I turned around, half-expecting to see a demon. Fortunately, it was someone far more dangerous. Scylla stood behind me, her medallion in her hand. To anyone else, it would look like she was just gripping her necklace tighter, but I knew that it was a bit scarier than that. Her necklace was an amulet, and with a few muttered words in Greek, Scylla could have him roasted like a chicken with the green fire of Hecate's magic.

"Don't ask me questions, or I'll make you disintegrate," Scylla warned, though her hand was shaking. I debated on screaming again. It couldn't hurt, could it? Of course, I knew that it probably could hurt; this man could silence both of us. It was a miracle that Scylla had heard my pathetic scream.

The man leaned back. "Relax. Whoever you are. I would also seriously suggest not making threats against me. I'm not going to hurt you if I don't have to, but provoke me, and I assure you, there will not be another sunrise that you witness." He cracked his knuckles.

I wasn't sure what to think of this man. On the one hand, he seemed harmless enough; just some scary person who had found his way into Camp Half-Blood. On the other hand, if he was telling the truth, then he was the son of Hades. I knew firsthand what a son of the Big Three could do, and it certainly wasn't any match for Scylla and I's strength. I decided to take the safe road.

"Scylla, lower your hand," I said quietly. "If he's going to hurt us, and he really is who he says he is, then it's not going to matter what kind of magic you attempt." An idea occurred to me. "Of course, it's also not going to hurt to call for help, right?" Percy was the most powerful fighter I knew. If I screamed his name, he would obliterate this man into a million pieces.

The man blanched. "No, wait. Don't do-" It was already too late. I had set my mind onto bringing Percy into this. He was my failsafe. If he couldn't defeat this demigod, whoever he was, then we were all screwed beyond hope.

"Percy!" I screamed, the sound high, piercing, and shrill. Scylla sent me a look of approval. Though she had no lost love for Percy, she knew just what he could do probably better than anybody. Scylla knew Percy before the losses of his family made him bitter and cold. She had known Annabeth, after all. That was perhaps the one thing that we shared in common.

"Gods, why doesn't anybody listen to me?" the man said in frustration, running his hands through his hair. Something occurred to him, and what little color was left in his alabaster face drained. "Wait." He slowly lowered his hands. "Did you… did you just say Percy?"

"She sure did," Scylla said, her hand returning to her medallion. "And Percy and I, we're like BFFs. Forever means forever. If he sees me dead, he won't be a happy camper." I winced at her obvious bluff, but let it slide. The man didn't seem to hear us. He was muttering frantically to himself, letting Scylla ramble on.

"Percy," he whispered. I got the feeling that this man, whoever he was, knew Percy. There were two types of knowing Percy, too: knowing Percy After the tragedy that shaped him into what he was now, and knowing Percy Before the tragedy that shaped him into what he was now. Before and After were very different things, but, for some indescribable reason, I had a feeling that he knew Percy Before. My lips pursed.

I held up a hand to the rambling daughter of Hecate. "Scylla, stop," I said. I took a step closer to the man. "Who… are you?" I said, my voice sounding alien, even to my own ears. "What is your name?" I cocked my head. He obviously knew who I was, and who my parents were, and he knew Percy Before- it was more than an assumption now, it was a gut instinct that had morphed into truth in my head- so it struck me that he wasn't new to the world that I lived in.

The man swallowed. "I really don't think you want to know my name. I'm sorry. Look, I really should be going. Percy Jackson," he said to himself, muttering the words like an incantation. "That's a man that really, really won't be very happy to see me. Trust me on this one. He'll- he'll want to pound me into a pulp."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

Percy's voice came from behind me. My heart skipped a beat. In my entire life, I had never heard his voice as venomous as it sounded right then. I turned, and even Scylla looked petrified. Her hand fell from her amulet. Percy's intense green eyes were fixated on the man, and he took a few steps forward. His arms were crossed, and his muscles were tense. "You heard me," Percy said coolly. "Or have you forgotten how to speak? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pound you into a pulp, and I won't."

The man scrambled backwards. "Oh. Uh. Hi, Percy," he said, his voice a façade of cheeriness. "You… shouldn't pound me because… uh… I'm… your… friend?" he tried. Percy's face was stony. "Oh. No. Probably not, then. Not your friend. Okay." He swallowed, as if uttering the sentences aloud was painful. "Look, Percy-"

"Save it," Percy said. "Turns out, I've already made up my mind. I think that pounding you into a pulp will be quite fun. What was it that you did the last time that we met, again? Oh, yeah. Abandoned the battle that killed my wife. Left her to die. Ruined my life. I think I'll pound you, yeah. That sounds really kind of fun."

I sucked in a sharp breath. Tossing a glance towards the man, who now seemed terrified, I made a split-second decision. I hardly knew this man. In fact, I had just met him, and he had been lurking around Camp Half-Blood in the middle of the night. Still, I felt that I should help him out a bit. I had never seen Percy this angry, and I really didn't want to. "Uh," I said, stepping in-between the line of sight of the two men. "Maybe you," I said, looking at Percy, "should go take a breather. And you," I said, gazing at the man, "should most definitely run. Now." I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why aren't you running?"

There was the sound of footsteps pounding, and I looked behind me. Chiron was riding towards us, with Will and a round-faced girl in tow. My eyes fixated on the girl. That would be the one that Will had set out to save, then, and if Scylla was right, that was also the girl that had lost her mother. She was average height, with a circled face, tanned skin, owlish brown eyes, and shoulder-length honey-colored hair. I sent her a pitying glance.

"Great," I said to nobody in particular as Chiron stopped, his eyebrows arching, nearly reaching the fringe of his hair. "Now we've got a whole war stampede." The glances around me nearly crackled with the palpable tension. "Look, I know this is crazy, but why don't we listen to me, and everybody take a step back. Sound like a good plan?" Nobody responded. "No?"

"Honey, maybe you should take a step back," Scylla said, an apologetic expression on her face. "I'm about as lost as you are, but I don't really think you'll be stopping any of this interaction any time soon."

"Who knows?" Heads turned to the man. He cleared his throat as blood rushed to his cheeks. "Something crazy could happen, after all," he said weakly. "We could not pound me into a little pulp, put a maraschino cherry on top, and call me a sundae. Yeah? Sound good?"

"Oh, shut up," Percy said. "If anything, we would make you into a Happy Meal. You tend to be fonder of those, now don't you?" He sneered as the man whitened. I was starting to get an inkling that we might not all leave this situation alive.

"Percy, calm down. And as for you, young man," Chiron said, turning towards the man. "Well, I do think that you have a little bit of explaining to do to Percy, under the circumstances." The way that he said the sentence conveyed that there would be explanations, and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. That meant that the man had a little bit longer to live.

I stepped out in the middle of everyone. "Okay," I said, my voice sharp. "I am confused. And, shocker, I don't like being confused. So could somebody please tell me, what is going on?" My voice was shaking. I really didn't appreciate this confusion hodge-podge.

Chiron pursed his lips. Percy stepped forward, his eyes blazing. "I'll tell you exactly what's going on," he said, his voice full of a cold fury. The man widened his eyes, shaking his head frantically. I was expecting an earthshaking revelation at this point. Swallowing, I wrung my hands together. When Percy spoke, it was with the regard that one gave to a particularly nasty spider.

"Nico Di Angelo just turned up from the gutter."

A/N: Hello! I am back! I'm not sure whether I'm a couple of days late or not... at any rate, I took a while with this chapter. Sorry. I restarted it three or four times. It was not fun to write (except for the part about Nico. MUAHAHA! CLIFFHANGER!). I am sorry about that cliffhanger... oh, well.

My birthday was yesterday! Yay! Fun times!

Anyway, now to my thanking reviewers. Thanks go to:

Audrey (guest): Well, I added in Nico. As for him being happy... you'll just have to wait and see. I'm also going to bring in lots of new characters, so you don't have to worry about that. As for seeing how camp was now, I'll go into detail later; don't worry. And, uh, sorry about my OC (Scylla). She was from my past fic, though, and I realized I left something unexplained, so oh well.

Thanks so much! Please review again! Let me know what you thought!

-jilyjackson