Growing Colder
Rachel
Rachel climbs off the motorcycle on shaky legs, gravel crunching beneath her shoes. She feels surreal when she takes off her helmet and breathes fresh air again. She wipes the sweat off her cheeks and forehead. The quiet country air makes the ringing in her ears even louder. Riding across the country far faster than any human could manage with only the sounds of her own breathing and the constant roar of the engine screaming in her ears despite the ear mufflers had made Rachel feel like she was holding onto the Wicked Witch of the West in the eye of a tornado. She tries to pop her ears, dropping her jaws. Rachel's hearing seems to be okay because when Nemesis speaks, her voice grates like sandpaper on wood.
"There has been an injustice in this house. An overreach. I cannot tell by whom."
She disappears in a cloud of inky smoke, leaving the scent of sulfur behind. Rachel coughs, waving the smoke out of her face and trying to recall what it was she came to do. Her face is stiff with drying sweat, her skin tight and she can only imagine the fright her hair must be in. The motorcycle is still humming, its engine cooling down, and Rachel puts her helmet on the seat.
Apollo, the Oracle whispers inside her brain. You must inform Apollo about the threat of Tartarus rising. She stops short, her heart racing. How longhad the trip from Camp Jupiter taken? The sky is already beginning to grow dark, reminding Rachel of the urgency of the situation. She jogs up the porch stairs on rubbery legs and pokes her head into the den, then the parlor, looking for signs of life.
Chiron's apartment is empty, as is his office. Rachel closes the office door and is about ready to check Mr. D's apartment and the Rec Room upstairs when she hears voices from the infirmary at the end of the hall.
"What has been done to her? What evil has been welcome in the house?"
Rachel sighs. The voice belongs to Nemesis and she sounds spitting mad.
A startled yelp follows.
"Ahhh. Miley Cyrus? No! It was only a dream. I swear!"
Rachel opens the infirmary door to find Clovis blinking sleep out of his eyes from the tatty sofa in the waiting area and Nemesis in her black leather pants and blood red jacket towering over him wearing Rachel's mother's face. Without her helmet, Nemesis makes Rachel's skin crawl. She tries to push the sensation aside so she can figure out what the hell is going on.
"Shut up, you overstuffed marshmallow. I am Nemesis and I demand to know what has befallen this girl." She points sharply at a hospital bed, its occupant hidden behind a wheeled standing curtain. "She is the daughter of my companion goddess and I will have justice!"
Rachel approaches, and Clovis looks up at her imploringly, his hands held up as if to say 'I don't know what's going on'. Nemesis doesn't take her eyes off of him as she addresses Rachel.
"Oracle of Delphi. Gaze upon the evidence yourself. Tell me why I cannot divine the person responsible for her state."
Rachel pushes the curtain aside, her mind retreating at the sight greeting her. A girl, Lou Ellen, Rachel thinks, lies curled on her side, suspended about three inches above the mattress. Her body is only a trace of its usual appearance, transparent, like a ghost or a colorless image made visible by smoke.
Smoke? No. Mist. is the last independent thought Rachel has before everything turns green.
The room fills with green vapor. The scent of snakeskin and ancient dust drives Rachel's mind into a passive role, though she is still conscious and aware. She looks out from behind her own eyes, as if peering through a window from the middle of a room. More mist swirls around her face, and she realizes as the Oracle starts to speak that it comes from her own mouth. The voice cracks with a sound like turning tissue-thin pages in an old book.
The child of Magic in limbo stretched thin.
Another of meek, unintentional sin.
Unite the siblings forgotten by time.
Heal the rift on the back of a dime.
Victory if the charge resonates from the West.
Eastern seeds sown will reap tears and new death.
Sunbeams break through Erebus
Fulfilling the Inheritance.
The sky is dark when Rachel leaves the Big House and begins the trek to her cave. Her legs tremble with every step she takes; her bones feel brittle, her nerves frayed.
She'd passed out after the Oracle uttered another prophecy, not because the experience overtaxed her, but because nobody bothered to catch her afterward and she'd struck her head on the floor. She rubs the tender knot forming on the back of her head and winces, her teeth chattering.
After coming to, Cecil was there. Apparently he'd awakened in the Hypnos cabin and had come looking for Clovis and to check on Lou Ellen. When he'd found Rachel sprawled across the floor and Clovis snoring on the couch, he'd moved her to the other side of the couch and waited for her to wake up. Together, they shook Clovis awake, and when Rachel had asked where Nemesis had gone, he said she had listened to the prophecy as if she understood what it meant.
"Like you were answering her question. Uh.. She'd asked why she couldn't tell who had made Lou Ellen like that. Then you started up the green smoke and the prophecy, and Miley … I mean Nemesis just nodded. She said something like, 'demigod quests. In that case …' Then she disappeared."
He'd relayed the story interspersed with yawns. Then nodded off, mumbling something about telling Nico about it. Cecil insisted Rachel be seen by Chiron before she did anything else. The rest is fast becoming a blur. All she wants is to get back to her cave where Chiron said she would be able to reach Apollo, and then have a shower and crash.
Rachel's stomach growls. Yeah. She should probably eat something too. It'd been nearly a full day since she'd eaten anything. She crosses her arms and hugs herself as she climbs the hill, the wind picking up and making her teeth chatter.
As she approaches the purple curtain covering the cave entrance, she hears music coming from inside. Techno music. Groaning because she really doesn't want to deal with loud or fast paced music after hitting her head, she pushes past the curtain and stops stock-still in front of the curtain, not wanting to believe what she's seeing. Her face flushes with heat.
Apollo and another young man, their backs to Rachel, are playing Dance Dance Revolution before an enormous television screen. The arrows on the screen move faster than Rachel has ever seen them go before and they dance erratically on their individual floor mats, moving just as fast. It's not the game that has her blushing, it's their outfits. Apollo is dressed in a sleeveless white leotard, ending above his knees - similar to what a wrestler would wear, but because it's white and he's sweating, he may as well be naked. The other god, for no human could possibly match Apollo's pace, is similarly dressed, but his singlet is purple and accessorized with a black mesh crop top and a lavender leopard print sash tied around his waist. His black curly hair bounces off his shoulders as he dances. They don't seem to realize they aren't alone anymore.
Rachel sighs, then looks at the rest of the room. It's all different – the numerous guitars, a shelving unit stuffed with various musical instruments, the stereo system, television, gaming systems, numerous antique statuettes, the leather couch pushed up against another bookshelf to make room for the dance mats – none of these things are Rachel's. The only parts of her room left intact are the cuckoo clock, table lamp and a pair of large canvases propped against the back wall.
She puts her hands on her hips, gearing up her strength to call Apollo out and force him to listen, but her energy fails her.
"You've been practicing. Keep it up and you might actually tie with me," the god dancing with Apollo says, laughter in his voice.
That voice, it wigs Rachel out because the guy sounds a lot like Mr. D. She looks at him again, her pulse racing against her will at the sight of his ass, round and plump, perfectly so, his muscles flexing under the purple fabric.
Apollo laughs as he dances. "Ah, baby brother. What happens if I beat you? Do I get a prize?"
It is Mr. D, Rachel realizes, only he's hot, and the idea of the grumpy, pouty camp director turning her on makes her queasy.
"If you're looking for a place to stick your dick, forget it. I'd consider a blow job fair …" Apollo missteps and his dance meter dips.
Rachel turns around and marches back outside, staring up at the sky. Why me? Can't I catch a single break?
The stars grow fuzzy, blurring with the black sky, and voice calls her name as her vision streaks with white. She takes a deep breath. Somebody has an arm around her waist, helping her stand by propping her up, her back against their body.
"Are you okay? I had to talk to Chiron first, but I didn't think you'd leave by yourself."
That's Cecil's voice.
Rachel nods, feeling dumb. "S-sorry," she says, her teeth chattering again. She allows Cecil to lead her back to the cave, utterly spent.