(A/N) I AM SO SORRY BUT IT IS NOT MY FAULT THIS TIME; THE B AND N KEYS ON MY COMPUTER STOPPED WORKING RANDOMLY AND I HAD TO SEND IT OUT TO GET FIXED. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.
Disclaimer: I do not own PJO or HOO
It looked like a girl, and an identical copy of one at that. A cutesy, short teenaged girl whom most would assume attended book clubs and frequented libraries. Freckles dotted her cheeks and nose, and her hair was a beautiful rust color, complete with dazzling blue eyes full of raw intelligence. However one would not approach such a girl if they saw her emerge from the ground, clawing her way out with talons that could make a grown man weep and teeth that would cause hellhounds to flee for their lives.
"Zombie!" most would cry, due to the fact that its skin was pale to the point of translucency, with spider webs of blue veins weaving their way below the surface. However that theory would soon be averted as a result of its pupils, which slit as thin as a viper's and then returned to normal. Most would begin uttering prayers and the name of God, however, contrary to popular belief, it would not repel it but rather irritate it to quite an extent. And one could never irritate a demon and make it out in one piece, for an irritated demon took no prisoners. Demons in general tended to take no prisoners.
Slathered in mud as thick and dark as pitch, the demon turned its head to the sky and the light hurt its eyes, though thick clouds covered the sun like a blanket. With one last heave it was on the ground, its sides heaving with effort as it adjusted to this thinner, cleaner air, which was not poisonous like the air in Hell was. The exhausting journey had been quite treacherous, but it was quite worth emerging from the boiling and dark depths of Hell. It regarded its surroundings with a burning curiosity, its long claws turning into fingernails and the Mist concealing its wicked fangs under a thin veil.
With a rather childlike interest it played with the stems of grass, using a gentle touch that one would normally not associate with a demon. After several failed attempts, it shakily rose to its feet. Tottering a bit before regaining its balance, it staggered over to the nearest tree and ran its hands over the coarse bark, tracing over the lines and patterns that had been formed. It was enjoying itself already, and muscles in its jaw jumped until its lips finally contorted into a thin smile. It brushed over the leaves of a bush, enjoying the crackling sound that it made, and gazed up at the cloudy, fragmented sky that was mostly hidden behind the trees' rustling foliage.
Then the moment was over, for the demon now realized that it was starving. Starving beyond belief. It clutched its chest as its stomach roiled and contracted, gurgling as it demanded to be fed. It sniffed the air and found that there were many animals around it, however they were all hidden from sight, and their little hearts were pumping in utter panic and terror. But it could not be contented with animal flesh. No, its first meal in the material world would consist of human flesh and blood. It raised its head to the heavens and let out a blood-curdling roar that seemed to split the sky.
-Ω-
Dakota was not having a very exciting day. Put on sentry duty after he accidentally blew up the armory, the day was going so repulsively slow that he thought Saturn himself was making sure that seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours. A probatio, a daughter of Apollo whom had only arrived at Camp Jupiter but a week ago, served as his partner, and Dakota had to admit that the armor on her was comically large. Taking a swig of Kool-Aid from a flask that would normally hold whisky, he looked around at the highways surrounding the Caldecott Tunnel and wondered why the hell he had been assigned to the most boring job at Camp Jupiter.
The probatio, however, had never been on sentry duty before, and she was standing at attention with an enthusiasm that made Dakota even more tired. Her spear was twice her size and, with its Imperial Gold spearhead, must've weighed more as well. Dakota supposed that Frank and Reyna had presumed nothing would be of such importance that any weapons would be necessary. Even if the probatio had been capable of wielding the spear, the armor would probably make her fall like an anchor before she even took two steps towards the enemy. The probatio tablet hung from her neck and she wore it like a trophy, despite the fact that she was still in the lowest rank possible. Dakota wished he could borrow some of her energy in order to get him through the day.
The constant rumble of cars, trucks, and motorcycles on the highway was soothing at first, but then as it mingled with the horrible smell of gasoline it became less pleasing to the ear. Like the constant droning of cicadas; it was nice background noise, but once you began to focus on it the sound became very agitating. Dakota wondered how the Mist was disguising them. Were they maintenance workers? Rogue teens spraying graffiti all over the walls? It really did not matter, though, because as long as they were concealed from mortals it was fine by him. The demigod tried to pass the time by counting how many silver vehicles passed, but as time stretched out into eternity and he lost count after seventy-eight, it was obvious that it was just getting him more on his nerves than before.
"So is this what it's like every time you're on sentry duty?" the probatio asked, her voice obviously betraying the fact that her excitement had gradually waned. They were not permitted to talk, but nobody really followed that rule, and the Praetors didn't bother to enforce it if it would only continue. It was like banning gum from school; it would only encourage the kids to do it more often.
"Trust me, err…" The son of Bacchus faltered, not very keen on everyone's name at Camp Jupiter. The probatio was no different.
"Amalthea." she stated, looking sideways at him with big blue eyes.
"Trust me, Amalthea, it only gets worse." Dakota replied, wiping a bead of sweat off of his brow. The tunnel withheld heat like a giant furnace, and with all of their armor on it was sweltering beyond belief. It didn't help that all of the fumes were just making the air thicker. Amalthea was in an obvious state of discomfort, shifting constantly from foot to foot, and Dakota's palms became as slick as if he had dunked them in water. Due to this fact, it became quite difficult to grip his sword. Just when the boredom and the heat became practically unbearable, a flicker of movement in the corner of Dakota's eye caught his attention.
The heat completely forgotten as adrenaline began to pulse through his veins, he motioned to Amalthea and the probatio immediately stiffened. He saw it again; a shift in the shadows to their far right. That's when the screech of tires filled the tunnel like a person's dying scream, and a Ford went veering into the wall. The engine burst into flames and consumed the entire car, with the driver only barely able to claw her way out. Another car smashed into the first, and Dakota knew that the people in the driver's seat and the passenger's seat and died a quick death, only painful for a split second. He did not know whether there were others in the backseat or what had become of them. People slammed on the brakes and the smell of burning rubber filled the tunnel with a horrible scent. Horns blared and utter panic ensued, with mortals stopping and clambering out of their cars in order to get away from the utter disaster. Amalthea let out a terrified squeak, and her armor rattled as she trembled like a leaf in the wind.
Then, through the smoke of the growing flames, a silhouette began to take shape. Dakota leveled his weapon towards her, his throat as dry as a desert and his tongue feeling like sandpaper in his mouth. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, to the point where he thought it would burst out of his chest, grow legs, and run away whilst screaming in terror. He knew Amalthea had it worse, due to the fact that she had never seen a real battle or a real monster before, and he made it his mission to protect her at all costs, even though they were supposed to be willing to sacrifice each other. Then a girl burst out of the fumes, coughing and gagging. She was covered in dirt and blood, her hair matted and her eyes wild. Dakota breathed out a sigh of relief; it wasn't a horrible Cyclops or a bloodthirsty hellhound, it was simply a girl, maybe even a demigod seeking shelter.
As Dakota peeled away the layers of blood and grime he found that she was quite pretty, with vibrant blue eyes and dark reddish hair. She was short and skinny, but not too skinny, and she had long fingers like a pianist's. He assumed that freckles would have dotted her face had she not been so filthy, but otherwise she seemed quite benign. However there were things he wasn't able to understand, like the way she carried herself; there was a grace to her, a grace that would normally be associated with a panther or deadly big cat. When her feet touched the ground, Dakota did not hear footsteps. Then again there was such chaos around them that one could scream at the top of their lungs and still not be heard. He was also aware of the fact that she was deathly pale, but that must've been the light.
That's when she took notice of them and tilted her head to the side, in a rather creepy and animal-like way. Dakota supposed she was acting odd either from the shock of the car crash or the shock of being on the run from monsters after training with Lupa. She took a deep breath, and shuddered a bit, and the demigods exchanged anxious glances. Did they really smell that bad? Dakota decided that he would take the risk, even after Amalthea shook her head wildly from side to side, causing her honey blonde curls to whip back and forth. Dakota, however, ignored her.
"Excuse me! Miss?!" Dakota had to yell over the noise in order to communicate. The girl, realizing that he was addressing her, approached cautiously. She did not appear to be armed, which was odd considering the fact that Lupa should had supplied her with a weapon; she couldn't brave the monsters empty-handed. Maybe she had lost it, but Dakota found himself making up a lot of "maybes" to address certain oddities about the girl before him.
"Are you Roman soldiers?!" she asked, her voice chocolatey and quite hypnotizing. Even Amalthea seemed lulled by the beautiful sound, and it took Dakota about a full minute before he could form words.
"Yes! Do you need help?! Are you a demigod?!" This occurred to the son of Bacchus as quite risky; what if she was simply a mortal that could see through the Mist like Rachel Elizabeth Dare? He had revealed a lot just by that one reply, and he decided to watch his words carefully as the conversation continued. The girl, whose spirits seemed to have boosted, whisked over with a rather fast and seamless walk.
"I am looking for other demigods! Are you a demigod?!" Dakota knew that answering this question would be reasonably foolish of him, so he decided to reply with a question.
"Are you?!" That's when he saw her hands. From a distance he had thought she had had pianist's fingers, but what had added to their length were huge, razor-sharp talons. Amalthea had caught sight of them too, and she was now shaking harder than before. Without a second to spare Dakota drove his sword right through the girl's chest. It may have looked and talked like a girl, but even its walk had been different. Dakota should've known it was a monster from the beginning.
What he had expected was for it to crumble to golden dust. That, however, did not happen. Blood welled up and dripped down, lathering the blade of Dakota's sword in red. Horrified, the son of Bacchus let go and stumbled back, shielding Amalthea with his body. The "girl" examined the Imperial Gold sword that had entered through its chest on one side and had gone straight through its body to the other side. The sword should have punctured its heart. It should have torn its lungs into ribbons. It should have been just a pile of dust at his feet. But no, that was not the case.
"Ouch." it pouted, no longer acting like a poor, frightened girl. She gripped the hilt with one hand and yanked the sword out without even wincing, letting it clatter to the ground. It was coated in so much of her blood that it had practically bathed in it. The Imperial Gold began to sizzle and steam, the blood like acid, and pretty soon it was nothing but a melted husk attached to a corroded hilt.
"What the hell are you?" Dakota hissed, snatching Amalthea's spear from her hands, his voice steady. On the inside, however, he was screaming. He knew that the spear wouldn't do jack squat on the creature before him, but he had to either kill the beast or die trying.
"Oh, my feelings." it crooned, slapping a hand over its heart in mock hurt. "I prefer to be called a who, if you don't mind." Its blue eyes slit like a viper's and it smiled, revealing two rows of wickedly sharp teeth. Dakota was now shaking as hard as Amalthea, the spear quivering in his hands.
"W-w-who are you?" he gulped, his eyes darting towards the door. If he could just get back to camp and warn the others, he would be safe. However the monster was standing between him and his escape, and she seemed well aware of the fact that that was where he had intended to retreat.
"Lilith."
"What?"
"They call me Lilith. And just because the gods say that our kind cannot rebel against their children does not mean that we can't have a snack once in a while."
-Ω-
Dakota was coughing up blood as it welled from the huge slashes in his neck, which had not been deep enough to kill him. Medics swarmed him as he struggled to cling to life, trying to stop the bleeding in any way possible. They fed him as many squares of ambrosia as they dared, and he had been guzzling so much nectar and Kool-Aid that Reyna had ordered to cut off his supply. Yet despite this the wounds would not heal. Nothing seemed to be working and the entire camp had been thrown into a frenzy. They had found Dakota crawling out of the Caldecott Tunnel, covered in his own blood and sobbing about how his partner, Amalthea, had not made it.
"Centurion Dakota, you do not have permission to die, do you understand me?" Frank bellowed while Reyna clutched the son of Bacchus' hand as if it were a lifeline. Dakota could only barely nod, the anguish so visible in his eyes they began to feel pain as well. The son of Ares looked over at Dakota's armor…or what was left of it. Hazel had been brought in to inspect it, being an expert at metals and precious stones. Her face was clouded with worry, though a clear sheen of fear as well as bemusement could be seen through it. The armor had been torn to shreds as if it were fabric and, according to the retired monster experts that lived in the city, it had not taken the creature several tries to penetrate it. It was like a hot knife cutting through butter.
"It…it had a message." Dakota whispered, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.
"Don't speak. You'll only make it worse as well as more painful for yourself." ordered one of the medics, whose hands were flying over Dakota's bare chest; applying medicines and herbs and powdered alicorns. The son of Bacchus, however, was having none of it.
"H-h-her name was….L-Lilith." he managed, his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles turned white.
"Lilith?" Reyna asked, and both Praetors swore that they had heard that name from somewhere before. Then Hazel came over, her eyes wide with shock.
"Did…did he just say Lilith? The first demon ever created? The first mortal soul to ever be twisted into a monster?" she gulped, her voice almost as hoarse as Dakota's.
"You were attacked by a demon?" Frank questioned, even though the medic was giving them a venomous stare for trying to hold conversation with a dying patient.
"I wouldn't be surprised." Dakota chuckled wryly, agony laced through his voice like venom. Each word was like a knife wound in the other demigods' hearts.
"But demons don't exist." Reyna muttered to herself, for once looking completely out of control of things.
"Well the message was the only reason she kept me alive…or slightly alive." the son of Bacchus murmured, his voice now as quiet as a whisper. He leaned in, which obviously caused him great pain, and Hazel and the Praetors did the same. The whole room seemed to hold its breath as Dakota uttered two words.
"We're coming."
The demigod collapsed back onto the sheets, blood beginning to flow from his mouth like a waterfall. He was delirious from the agony and the whole world was blurring together, the distant shout of the medics meaning everything and nothing to him at the same time.
"We're losing him!"
"We're losing him!"
Then he turned his head to see a dark-skinned man in a black toga leaning over him, his long black hair framing his beautiful face. Large black wings spread behind him, glimmering in the blurry lights that blazed too brightly for Dakota to bear.
"Are you an angel?" the demigod whispered. The man smiled gently, his soft black eyes so full of welcome that Dakota just wanted to melt into his arms.
"Yes, Dakota. And I am here to take you home." The angel grasped the son of Bacchus' hand, yet not quite. He did not feel it in the real world, but he did feel a tug at his soul, egging it out of his body. The demigod did not resist. He felt like he was floating, however when he looked down he saw himself, a mangled boy with his eyes closed. Dakota smiled sadly and allowed the angel to lead him to wherever he was to go next, and the world melted away into oblivion, leaving behind nothing but the anguished cries of those who he had left behind.
QUOTE OF THE DAY:
Nerd Girl Problem #25
England has a magical channel called BBC where shows like Sherlock and Doctor Who originated. America has E!, which boasts Jersey Shore and Keeping Up With the Kardashians.