oh and I forgot to mention that the title of the fic (and part of the summary) comes from taylor swift's song,,,well "long story short" lol. I usually try not to use the title of songs to title my things, but I'd literally been thinking of a title for this fic for 3 years and I really wanted to keep my use of "story" in the title so here we are. I got desperate. Not that it doesn't fit, bc I think it does. Just that I broke my own, weird, personal rule about my naming conventions lol
Oh and also that this act is "titled" after the Robert Frost poem, "Stopping in woods on a snowy evening"
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Chapter summary: into the woods, and out of the woods, and home before dark!
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Funny, No?
I told Liam to pull up to where about the pine tree was. Due to the Mist, and the magical border that protected camp, Liam saw something wholly and completely different than I did. I could've checked, but it was, honestly, kind of exhausting. What I saw was the golden fleece of legend hanging from the pine tree's lowest bough. Protecting it was a dragon, wrapped around the tree's trunk. He blew smoke out his nostrils with each exhale. His name was Peleus.
A few yards away from the pine tree, strengthening the border, was the lost statue of Athena, or the Athena Parthenos. So-called because after Athens was ransacked by the Romans in ancient times, they'd stolen the Athena Parthenos and hidden it away. During the Second Giant War, Annabeth (a daughter of Athena, and also Percy's girlfriend), had recovered it. Reyna, a Roman demigod daughter of Bellona, had brought it to Camp Half-Blood.
I brought out the wad of cash I had on me, split it in half and handed that to Liam.
"Thank you for humoring me," I said.
Liam seemed stunned but extremely enthusiastic at the money.
"It was no problem at all, Miss," he said. "You're honestly the least weird, most generous person I've had in my cab. It was my pleasure."
I smiled and nodded before exiting the cab. I waited until his car was a tiny speck on the road before making my way up the hill and toward Peleus. He lifted his head at the sound of my footsteps in the dead grass, growling low in his chest. But when he saw me, the growl cut off and he perked up like a dog would.
I smiled and laughed. "Hey, big guy," I said, approaching him and putting a hand on his snout. He rumbled contentedly. "It's good to see you, too, bud." I let out a tiny content sigh myself. Being a dragon and all, he was extremely warm, and just being near him helped calm my prickles in this incessant cold.
"Would you like me to sing you a short song?" I asked quietly. That's how we'd become friends. After the Second Titan War, I had trouble sleeping, and often would sneak up and visit Peleus. One, because he was great for my chronic pain, two because he kept the harpies away (who ate demigods who wandered outside of their cabins after lights out), and three because I liked having an audience when I sang. And my singing had really endeared me to him.
Peleus snorted as if to say, "Uh, duh!"
I chuckled, rubbing his snout. "Okay, I can do that." I sang a short version of "The Humors of Whiskey."
Just as I was finishing up, my phone began to buzz in my pocket. This time letting out a weary sigh, I dropped my hand from Peleus's snout and stepped back. Peleus grumbled and if dragons could pout, he definitely would've been. As it was, he was trying his best to give me puppy-dog eyes.
"Sorry, bud, I have to take this," I apologized, fishing my black phone out of my pocket and hitting the green phone icon. I held the phone up to my ear, but didn't say anything.
"Have they arrived to camp, yet?" Hargrave asked.
I turned to scan the camp—standing on the hill gave you a really nice view of the entire landscape. There was very little movement, and I assumed, Apollo showing up would've caused some kind of ruckus.
"No," I replied.
"Hmm, our sources say he entered the woods to the west of camp," Hargrave said. "Go fetch him. Make sure he gets to camp alive."
"Why not let him die?" I asked. "That's what you want, ultimately, isn't it?"
I could practically hear Hargrave grin as he said, "In due time, my dear. For now, I have been instructed to keep him alive. And, therefore, you must keep him alive."
"Understood." I hung up, not bother to wait for his response. If he'd had anything more to say, he would simply call me back.
I put my phone back into my pocket and looked at Peleus.
"Sorry, big guy, looks like we have to part ways," I told him.
Peleus flopped his head back down on the ground, grumbling again.
"I'll come visit," I promised. "I'm staying for a few days." Peleus angled his head slightly, closing his eyes. He was such a brat, sometimes. Shaking my head and chuckling, I made my way down the other side of the hill, making my way toward camp proper.
I really should've taken a couple ibuprofen before I'd left the Jackson residence.
Camp during the winter was pretty much dead. Surprisingly, it felt more like winter, even inside the borders. Usually, the magic border kept it pretty mild all year around. The weather often skirted around it. No snow, unless allowed in, no rain, either. But there was a light dusting on the ground now, and braziers burned around camp, to keep people warm.
Not that there were that many campers who needed it. Camp was dead in a second sense: most campers went back into the real world for school. Only a handful of year-rounders stayed, so things were very quiet in the off-season.
The vibe felt distinctly different, though, and I couldn't tell if it was because I'd been away and things had changed so much in my life, or if there was something wrong. Though, I supposed that was a bit stupid of me to think, seeing as communications had gone down soon after the Second Giant War, and lo and behold, Apollo gets thrown to earth as a mortal six months later. They were most likely connected.
Something big was stirring.
Since no one was really around and about, it was easy enough for me to make my way through camp without running into anyone. I really didn't want to have to explain my presence here until I found Apollo and brought him here. It would be easier, and save time in the long run. I, of course, avoided any areas that were most frequented, just in case.
When I got to the edge of the woods, my suspicions that something was rotten in the state of Camp Half-Blood, were confirmed. As I stepped closer to the edge, the trees bent in a strange way, like I was looking through fish-eye glass. The sounds around camp dimmed to nothing and my head suddenly felt strange. Almost like it was a helium balloon someone was filling up.
My first instinct should have been to step back, but I felt something pull me forward. Not that I would've had a choice, had I wanted to step back. Slowly, I stepped closer, into and past the line of trees. As soon as I had, that weird feeling disappeared. And now, when I looked back, the rest of camp looked distorted.
I turned back to the tree, trying to shake the bad feeling that was starting to form in my gut. The forest, despite it being light out, looked darker than I remembered. And I knew the camp forest pretty well. In my youth—that's a joke—I used to enter the forest a lot and practice swinging from branch to branch. It made my stomach churn with nostalgia and a longing for a simpler time.
The last time I'd swung through the trees…well, I had learned that Luke had joined Kronos.
I tried to shake off these thoughts and feelings. They were not helping my pin-pricks, and I needed to concentrate.
I closed my eyes briefly, using one of the techniques my therapist had taught me to redirect my thoughts toward something more productive. When I felt I had my thoughts (and my pin-pricks, somewhat) under control, I opened my eyes once again, and continued forward.
I wasn't really sure where I was heading, but I let that odd sensation pull me in whatever direction it wanted. It, honestly, was not my smartest idea, but the woods were big. And, despite many half-bloods having lived here for centuries, no one had fully explored the depths of the forest. Monsters also wandered these woods.
All that to say that I had no idea where to start. There was clearly something going on in the woods, and I had a hunch if I followed this strange feeling, I would find Apollo and Meg.
The further I walked, the darker it seemed to get. The trees seemed to grow in size, until they soon stood so tall, their tops disappeared into darkness. I quickly looked back down to the forest floor, it reminding me too much of Tartarus. (Oh, and yes, I had been to Tartarus and made it out. Another long story. I hadn't been alone, and it was only by divine intervention that we both survived and managed to leave that place.)
Beyond the forest getting darker, I also began to hear whispers. Some of them sounded a bit like ghostly shrieks. This certainly didn't help my growing anxiety or my prickles (which rose steadily the longer I was here). I silently cursed at myself for not bringing at least one other vial of my pain elixir.
It felt as if the trees were closing in on me. Or trying to confuse me. Whenever I turned to look back, I could've sworn the trees had moved to make the path I'd just walked look different. It wasn't that much of a stretch, considering tree spirits existed. Still, the energy in the forest right now felt foreboding. Not necessarily malicious, but not exactly friendly or welcoming, either.
I stumbled slowly, following the feeling. The tree roots tried to trip me up at every turn. And it hurt to step onto them. Weirder, still, sometimes the whispers I heard grew louder, as if I was walking down a hallway and hearing random bursts of conversation from the people inside the various rooms I passed.
Someone's whispered pleas grew loud in my ear and I instinctively veered away, looking in that direction. Nothing to see but tree trunks and darkness. Then voices to my left grew louder; they sounded bitter. I caught the words, "traitor" and "betrayal." I veered away again, my prickles bursting. They were slowly overcrowding my brain and I was finding it difficult to focus.
Then a voice broke through all the whispers and muffled voice, clear as a bell, shooting through me like an arrow: HELP ME.
It was a woman's voice. Not a voice I recognized, but it threw me into a flashback of the night my mom had died. She had been attacked by a hellhound that'd broken into our apartment. She'd died trying to protect me. And she had cried for help. Specifically, help from Apollo. That was part of the reason our relationship was so contentious. I had blamed him for her death, because he had not helped her when she'd begged. I still did blame him on some level, but was also working through some of my anger from that with my therapist.
I'd been 14 at the time. I'd also tried to kill the hellhound with a small Celestial bronze letter opener. That's how I'd acquired large, jagged scars on my left upper forearm and shoulder. I did manage to kill the hellhound in the end, though.
My mind was nearly gone, as it flew into a panic, and my prickles rose in volume to the point I could barely think past them. Not that I could think anything coherent. Breathing hard, I stumbled over to a tree, pressing my hand against it, trying to use it to ground myself. I focused on the roughness of the bark underneath my palm. Tried to smell the air around me, the sharp citrus scent of the pine needles surrounding me. Tried to listen to anything other than my jagged breathing, and instead focused on the sound of my feet crunching dead twigs and fallen pine needles.
Eventually, I managed to calm my heart. My pin-pricks remained at an uncomfortable level, unfortunately for me. But at least, I didn't have to try to push them away and manage a panicking brain. Still, I would need to find Apollo and Meg soon—if that was even possible at this point—or I might just collapse in the forest, never to be found again. Sometimes, when my chronic pain got bad enough, I became immobile because moving only made it 1000 times worse. I'd remain conscious, but unaware of everything going on around me. It was not a good time.
I pulled away from the tree, taking deep breaths, and looked around to at least try to get my bearings. It was still dark and gloomy. The trees looked a little less malicious, though.
I began to head in the same direction that odd feeling was leading me. The weird whispers continued, but I did my best to ignore them. I didn't want to think about the voice that had called for help. It would only send me back into a panicked state.
After a few minutes of this, I suddenly heard someone crashing through the underbrush behind me and slightly to my right. I turned, readying two of my throwing knives, one in each hand. Except instead of a monster, a teenage boy burst into view. He had curly brown hair, was wearing a Led Zepplin t-shirt underneath a fleece jacket, and jeans, and was soaking wet like he'd taken a dip in a lake, or a river, considering the forest.
I blinked, wondering if this was some kind of illusion or hallucination. I was so stunned, I didn't have time to react as he came up to me. His face was pale. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open. He was looking at me like he was looking at a ghost. His jaw moved, like he was trying to say something, but the only noise that came out were whimpers.
I flinched and tried not to punch him in the nose when his hand came toward me, gently resting on my shoulder. He gave it a firm squeeze and then his knees buckled. Trying not to cut myself with my knives (or cut the boy), I managed to catch him. He was still conscious, going by his half-lidded eyes, but he seemed to be going into some kind of mental shock.
"Apollo!" a girl's voice called, breathless and cracking with panic. A young girl, in a green dress underneath a fleece, yellow leggings, and red converse, emerged from roughly the same spot—
Wait. I was holding Apollo?
I looked back down at the teen in my arms. I mean, I suppose I should've expected something like this since he was mortal, but this mortal form didn't seem much like him at all.
The girl, Meg, straightened her cat-eye glasses and took a fighting stance, curling her hands into fists. I clocked the two golden rings on her middle fingers and felt the pulse of magic from them. I wondered why, based on the expression she was giving me, she hadn't changed those rings into weapons.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice hard.
"I-I'm his daughter," I stuttered, figuring that might get her to back down and trust me the fastest.
It kind of worked. Her eyebrows shot up and her stance relaxed slightly. "Like, Apollo's daughter?" Her eyes flickered to his half-limp body, still in my arms.
I nodded. "I, uh…Percy's mom called me after you guys left. I found Percy and he told me you two had gone into the woods. I…I wanted to check to make sure you made it to camp safely. When I didn't see you there, I headed into the woods to try to find you."
Meg narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "What's his last name?"
"Percy's?" I asked, confused. Meg nodded. "Jackson."
Meg considered this and then finally decided I could be trusted.
Suddenly Apollo gasped and doubled over, gripping his head between his hands. I dropped him, not expecting the movement, and his knees hit the forest floor. Meg ran up to him and gripped his arm, trying to pull him back to his feet.
"Hey! Get up," she said.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked, putting my throwing knives away, and then reaching for Apollo's other arm.
Meg frowned and shook her head. "Said he started hearing voices."
Apollo looked over at Meg as we helped him to his feet. "You didn't hear that?"
"Hear what?" Meg demanded.
Apollo's knees buckled again. Meg being, I think, about twelve, and me not expecting it, dropped him and he did a face-plant into the pine needles. I winced internally.
Meg kneeled next to him. "Apollo!" She rolled him over to his back. "Come on! I can't carry you!" She grasped his arm anyway.
I knelt and put a hand on her shoulder. "I've got him. Can you lead us out of here?"
"Yes, but I want to get this jacket off him," she said, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as she struggled to pull the fleece off Apollo. I quickly helped her. Half-way through, the voices crowded me. The whispers grew louder and to my right, I heard someone shriek. I instinctively turned to look.
"What?" Meg asked, also looking.
I shook my head and got back to helping her take off Apollo's jacket. "Nothing."
The voice became clearer, though. Sometimes I would hear, "help," sometimes my full name, "Victoria," like someone was talking about me behind my back, but sometimes almost like a prayer. Worst of all, sometimes I'd hear, "Castellan." Problem was, I couldn't be sure if they were referring to Luke or me (since I, in some instances and contexts, went by Castellan now). Still, it always hurt, hearing his name. You don't get over a death like that so easily.
Pushing them away to focus, alongside my prickles, was draining me quickly.
We finally got Apollo's jacket off, and Meg began to take off her jacket, then. I fought the urge to offer mine (to either of them), if only because I was currently carrying two cell phones and if anyone found out, that would lead to a lot of questions I wasn't able to answer. Otherwise, I would've offered to use mine. Either to give to Apollo or to Meg.
Satisfied, she nodded, gripping Apollo's shoulders as she said, "Keep yourself together. Don't go crazy on me."
She stood, turning and looking around at the trees around us. Her hands curled into tight fists. I threw one of Apollo's arms over my shoulder and hauled him to his feet again. Unfortunately, he was a bit taller than me, so his feet dragged, which dragged me down. My prickles did not like the extra weight, either.
I gritted my teeth and pushed my pain away as best I could, ignoring the continuing voices, following Meg as she marched forward. My vision was getting hazy with ever new step. Blackness started to encroach along the edges. The whispering voices grew louder.
I couldn't tell if the trees were moving for us, or if I was falling to the same delirium Apollo was. Speaking of, he was now muttering something I couldn't make out. And his skin was growing incredibly hot. I couldn't tell if it was my imagination or if he had actually begun steaming.
A tree root caught Apollo's foot and we both went crashing to the ground. Meg ran back to us, going straight to Apollo. She hauled him into a sitting position, grasping at his shoulder and shaking him. I could barely hear her own shouts over the chorus of whispers in my head. Still, I struggled to sit up as well.
I kept hearing "Castellan" but realized, that alongside my own name, the voices were also whispering, "victory." Of course, that's what my name meant, too.
Beside me, Meg was still yelling at Apollo, going nose-to-nose with him. His eyes looked far away but also wide, his expression tight with pain. Meg slapped him and I winced again in sympathy.
"GET UP!" she shouted, breaking through the din. Apparently, for both me and Apollo. He blinked and his eyes were less far away. Clumsily, he struggled to his feet with Meg supporting him. Through the whispers and pin-pricks, I stumbled over to them.
My tongue felt swollen in my mouth as I said, "Here, I got him."
Meg let me take him, and I stumbled when I took on the full weight, only because my body was also giving out. My head was swimming and my vision was getting worse. Meg forged ahead, and the trees once again seemed to move for her as we crashed through the underbrush.
A spark of light hit my vision, breaking up the darkness around the edges of my vision. The closer we got, the more I could kind of make out—like that the light flickered because it was bonfire, and that there were people making s'mores, with weapons around their waists or on their backs, sitting around the fire. The sound of music and off-key voices hit my ears.
Apollo's arm around my neck grew hotter and hotter, and I decided that I wasn't hallucinating, and he was steaming. That didn't bode very well. I wondered what kind of voices he was hearing as he began giggling hysterically. Another very bad sign.
It was all I could do to keep carrying him toward the campfire. We seemed to have stepped out of the woods, but we were far from danger. My own body was beginning to give out. My vision narrowed as the black around the edges grew faster. My prickles were roaring so loud, I could barely feel Apollo's smoking arm around my neck now.
From beside me, Apollo said in a too chipper voice, "Oh, hi! I'm Apollo!" Then he collapsed. And because I was just barely hanging on, I couldn't hold up his whole weight, and collapsed next to him. I let myself fall and closed my eyes. I hadn't passed out because I could still feel my pin-pricks, but they were so strong now that I couldn't move even if I wanted to.
Eventually, I did pass out. Much to my relief.
Mid-October
I thought about crushing Hargrave's trachea or snapping his neck, but I had a feeling that would lead to my brother's and his fiancée's death, and then they would kill me. Breathing hard, I reluctantly let go.
"Very good, Victoria," he said, clearing his throat.
I yanked at his arm and glared at him. "I could still break your arm," I muttered as he continued to lead me to a black SUV that'd been hidden behind the van they'd transported me in. It looked identical to the one they'd taken Dan and Anya out of.
Three mercenaries stayed with us, while one went back to the van. Two of them got into the front seats, the third got into the back seat. Hargrave let go of my arm and opened the back door for me before gesturing into the SUV with a smile. I gritted my teeth on some snarky comment and slid into the middle.
"Would you like to change before we go to introduce you to the company?" Hargrave asked as the driver started the car.
"No," I muttered, crossing my arms. I was reminded I was still in my maid's uniform, but I didn't care. I wanted to get this over as fast as possible and go check on my brother. I wanted to know they would keep their side of the deal, because if they didn't, then they would have a whole new problem on their hands: Me.
"Would you like some pain meds, at least, then?" Hargrave asked.
My skin crawled at the implication that they'd been spying on me. I shook my head stubbornly, even though my prickles were beginning to steadily grow.
They didn't blindfold me this time for some reason. Maybe because I was technically their coworker now. Maybe because it didn't really matter if I knew where we were going.
The building we pulled up to looked incredibly ordinary—like any other skyscraper you'd find in New York City. It was just as busy, with all types of people hustling in and out of the building. Most of them were dressed in business suits and the like, and it was a near-constant stream of them going in and coming out. It was dizzying.
No one blinked an eye as all three of us in the back of the SUV got out and went inside (the SUV driving off, probably to park). Not that I thought they would. This was New York City, they'd probably seen weirder during their commute to work this morning than a well-dressed man in a suit, a man who was clearly a mercenary, and a woman wearing a maid uniform go into a skyscraper.
The mercenary put a hand on the back of my elbow as Hargrave went up to the front desk in the lobby and spoke to the person there. After a few exchanged words, Hargrave turned back to us and nodded. The mercenary then began to guide me toward one of the elevators to the left. Hargrave had already pushed the "up" button when we got to him.
A moment later, the doors slid open and we stepped inside. It was blessedly silent as we rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. I'd had interesting experiences in elevators. During the Second Titan War, I had ridden the elevator that took you to Olympus right before the gods' connection to the mortal world had disappeared. During the Second Giant War, I had ridden the elevator of the Doors of Death from Tartarus back to the mortal world. Though, that second journey had been a lot more harrowing.
So I was just glad to have a quiet, relatively normal ride in an elevator for once. Of course, everything else about the situation wasn't normal. At least I could pretend for a few seconds. (Though, these memories aggravated my pin-pricks.)
The doors opened to an utterly ordinary-looking office space. Perhaps an office space for the more well-paid workers, since everything was shiny, glittery, and polished, but still an office space. Hargrave brushed past the person at the front desk, not giving them a second glance. In turn, they must've been expecting us, because they didn't look up or try to stop us.
Hargrave led us through the maze of cubicles and past conference rooms, before coming to a stop at one of the smaller conference rooms. He opened the door and gestured me in. The mercenary finally stepped away from me as I stepped into the conference room. Hargrave followed and closed the door behind him. The mercenary stood outside the door like a bodyguard.
I looked around the room: a small, rectangular table sat in the middle, with three chairs on either side, and once on each end.
"Please, take a seat, Victoria," Hargrave said.
I really didn't want to but sitting down sounded nice. Having to push away my growing prickles was easily exhausting. Internally, grumbling, I took a seat in the closest chair to me. Hargrave took the seat opposite.
"Would you like water? Anything to drink?" Hargrave asked after a moment of silence.
"What are we waiting for?" I sighed, leaning back into the chair, trying to breathe normally, despite my prickles trying to drown me in pain from all the stress I was currently under.
"You're very impatient," Hargrave remarked.
"I don't like it when other people waste my time," I shot back.
"Your anxious to check on your brother and his fiancée."
"Wonder why."
Hargrave gave me one of those soulless smiles again. "It will only be a moment more."
I looked away, crossing my arms, and impatiently tapped my foot against the floor. At some point, I had to close my eyes and take deep breaths to keep my pin-pricks under control. They were fighting to invade all my senses, and if that happened, I would be unawares of the world around me until they decided to calm down. That was always a fun (derogatory) time.
Finally, though, Hargrave moved. I opened my eyes to see him stand and go over to the door. A woman approached. The mercenary stepped aside and opened the door for her. She stepped half-way in and handed Hargrave a legal envelope. They exchanged a few hushed words. She glanced at me, eyes lingering on me, with an expression I couldn't read, for slightly longer than comfortable, then looked back at Hargrave, nodded, and exited. The mercenary stepped back into position.
Hargrave went to sit opposite me again. He opened the legal envelope and dumped out some of its contents: a phone, a passport, driver's license, wad of cash, and several keys on a keychain.
"Your new ID," Hargrave explained, shifting into business mode, and passing the passport and driver's license over to me. "Please use this name and ID when you're conducting official business for us."
I picked up the driver's license, which had the photo from my real license, but I noticed two strange things: 1) someone had edited my hair to be dark and 2) the name on the card. When I read the name, I nearly dropped it. My prickles burst.
"What the fuck is this?" I asked, holding up the card.
"Your new ID—" Hargrave repeated.
"You know what I mean," I interrupted.
A soulless smile. "You don't like the name?"
I read the card, for effect, "Serena Castellan." I looked back at Hargrave. "Is this supposed to be a joke?"
"Serena sounds like seirína," Hargrave explained. That was the Greek word for siren, a nickname I had obtained because my singing voice rivaled that of Orpheus's. "Funny, no?"
"No."
"And Castellan…well, I think you know why we chose that." His smile turned into a malicious grin. I fought the urge to lunge at him from across the table.
Instead, I threw the driver's license down. "Continue," I growled.
Back to the soulless smile. He showed me the phone. "This should only be used for work. It is, of course, monitored. Keep it on you at all times unless otherwise instructed. If you don't, we will know, and you don't want to know what happens when you've disobeyed us."
"I have a pretty good idea," I muttered. I was too incensed to ask how they were able to use technology when other demigods couldn't.
Hargrave ignored me. He slid the keys over to me. "Your new car, new apartment—both dead bolt and doorknob, as well as your mail key."
"My new what?" I asked. "I already have an apartment. I'm fine there."
"That hovel?" Hargrave waved his hand. "No, you'll be more comfortable in the one we've provided for you. We already have people moving your things, regardless."
"Why would you give me new things?" I brandished the keys before letting them clatter on the table. Again, for effect. "You're holding me hostage. Forcing me to work for you."
"We want to treat our assets well," Hargrave said, which didn't really answer my question. "You'll also get a paycheck, to that effect. Which reminds me"—he pushed the legal envelope toward me—"in there are all the legal documents for your lease, your bank account, and various other things. You can even continue to go to therapy. Now you don't have to worry about not being able to afford it any longer. You don't have to worry about not affording many things anymore."
I shifted in my seat, still uncomfortable with the notion they'd been spying on me.
Hargrave misunderstood my reaction. "You should be happy, Victoria, your quality of life just improved drastically."
"Did you forget the part where you're threatening to kill my brother so I'll work for you, or…?"
Hargrave let out a small amused-sounding sigh. "Would you rather we just killed him instead?"
I blinked, unamused. "Obviously not."
"Then you're just going to have to bear with me," Hargrave said with the barest hint of sarcasm. When I didn't respond, he continued. "Starting Monday, you'll begin your training. We'll text you the address of our training facility. We'll send you a rough schedule over the weekend, but it's subject to change. You'll have a pretty regular schedule for a few weeks, while you train, but it will become more flexible once you're done. After that, it won't be a nine-to-five. You'll be expected to be available at all hours of the day. If we call, pick up by the third ring, or we'll have a problem. Any questions so far?"
I simply stayed silent, glaring at him.
"Great, then there's one more thing," Hargrave said. "We're going to have to ask that you change the color of your hair."
I tried not to self-consciously reach up and play with the end of the diagonal Dutch braid I often put in it. "Why?" That would explain the edited photo on my fake ID, though.
"It's too conspicuous, I'm afraid. The types of things my employers would like you to do is going to require you stay under the radar. Your golden hair, which I assume you get from your father"—he smirked and I fought the urge to punch it off his face—"contrasts and stands out against your beautiful brown skin—"
Before I really knew what I was thinking, let along doing, I'd swiped up the keys, picking the sharpest one, reached over the table to grab at the front of Hargrave's button-up, pulling him toward me, and holding the key to his carotid.
Behind me, I heard the door burst open and a moment later, the cold barrel of a gun pressed against the base of my skull.
I ignored it.
"Talk about me like that again, and I will gut you with the key to my deadbolt," I growled, pressing the key into his neck for effect. The barrel of the gun pressed harder against my skull.
Hargrave waved the mercenary off, who seemed reluctant, but the barrel disappeared. I didn't hear the door close, though, so I assumed the guy was still inside, just in case.
Hargrave looked back at me. "Now, Victoria," he began, his voice slightly wavering. "There's no need to resort immediately to violence. I apologize if I somehow offended you with a compliment—"
"Try again," I interrupted, pressing the key even harder against his neck. "If I sever your carotid, you'll bleed out before anyone can help you."
He didn't point out that my brother and his fiancée would die, as well, because he didn't need to. He knew I was just making a point with him.
"Very well," Hargrave finally said. "The order still stands, however, you have to change your hair to something darker."
I finally released him (boy, that had not been a good idea for my pin-pricks) and sat back, throwing the keys back on the table. I crossed my arms and took a shaky breath, trying to fight off the pain.
"Anything else?" I asked.
Hargrave had sat back, too. He was fixing the front of his collar and clearing his throat. When he smiled, it was tight. Good.
"No, you're free to go visit your brother," Hargrave said, sitting back.
"That's it? You made such a big deal of my 'onboarding' and that's it? You barely told me anything."
"Your position is really more…learn-as-you-go." This time his smile looked more like he was laughing at some inside joke.
I wanted to comment on this, but my prickles encouraged me to just go and figure it out later. I needed to take something for this pain soon or I was going to either collapse and be unable to move, or pass out. With a sharp exhale, I stood and gathered up the items, throwing them back into the envelope before turning to exit. I had to shoulder aside the merc still standing near me, but he let me go without anymore fuss or pulling a gun on me. Half-way through the door, Hargrave called my name.
"Oh, and Victoria," he said. I paused and glowered over my shoulder at him. He smiled. "Welcome to Triumvirate."
I left as quickly as I could. I was now anxious to check on my brother. Once back on the sidewalk, I hailed a cab, holding the envelope close to my chest. I didn't want anything to do with it, but if I lost it, I don't think that would be a good start to my new job.
When the cab pulled up, I had the door open and was sliding in before the cab had even fully stopped. Breathlessly, I gave the driver the address and waited impatiently as he navigated his way through traffic. When we arrived, for a brief, terrifying moment, I realized I didn't have any cash on me. Then I remembered there'd been a wad of cash in the envelope Hargrave had handed to me.
I took the entire wad and gave it to the cabbie before exiting and going up to the entrance of my brother's apartment. I hit the buzzer, holding my breath.
"Yes?" It was Dan's voice, but it sounded hoarse. I couldn't blame him. My nerves were frayed. It felt like they'd been strung out too tight on a guitar.
"It's me," I said, my throat closing up, just glad to hear his voice. Aside from sounding exhausted, he otherwise was unharmed.
The door unlocked and I quickly grabbed it and headed inside. I made my way up the flights of stairs, my prickles protesting vehemently. I'd need to ask Dan for some pain meds.
Dan lived with five other roommates to be able to even afford living in the city. He was getting his degree in theater arts at a small college. That's how he'd met Anya, through theater. She was an international student from Malaysia. They'd fallen in love and were now to be married. I wasn't sure they'd set a date quite yet, since they were both busy with their studies. Now, I was unsure if they'd ever be able to as long as the threat of death hung over them.
And it was all my fault.
I knocked twice on his door and he almost immediately opened it, as if he'd been waiting by the door. Or pacing. He'd put his prosthetic back on (or, the mercs who'd kidnapped him had given it back to him when they'd dropped him off at his apartment). It was a specially made prosthetic, courtesy of the Hephaestus kids at camp. It was made of Celestial bronze and could hide a dagger or short-sword. They were trying to convince him to start experimenting with new magical technology, where they'd be able to hook wires up to his nerves so he could feel everything in his prosthetic (if you've read it, that idea was a bit like Edward's prosthetics from the manga, Fullmetal Alchemist).
As soon as I saw him, I opened my mouth to say sorry but Dan engulfed me into a big bear hug. I felt my knees buckle, both at the relief, but also because my prickles had had enough.
"Tori!" Dan exclaimed, catching me easily. He was built like a line-backer.
"Sorry," I mumbled, my voice weak and shaky. "I'm just in a lot of pain right now."
Dan shifted, putting his arm around my waist (honestly I preferred it more when he was hugging me; he always ran warmer than me) and helping me into his apartment. He led me to the sofa and sat me down before going into the kitchen. I heard the clink of glasses, the fridge open, and the pouring of water. He came back over to me and set the glass of water on the coffee table.
"I'll go get some pain meds for you," he said quickly, heading off down the hall to where the rooms were. He was back a moment later with a bottle of ibuprofen. He got four out for me. I gritted my teeth and moved to grab the glass and held my hand out for the pills. I took them as quickly as I could before falling back against the sofa. I closed my eyes.
"Just…give me a minute," I mumbled.
I felt the cushion next to me depress as Dan sat down.
"Of course," Dan said.
We sat in silence until my prickles calmed down enough that I felt I could focus on a conversation. They were still at a level I didn't prefer, but I wasn't fighting against them for my concentration.
I opened my eyes again and straightened up. I don't remember setting the legal envelope Hargrave gave me on the coffee table, but it was there, mocking me.
"Where's Anya?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the envelope.
"Sleeping in my room."
I let silence settle between us for a moment. "I'm so sorry," I said, still staring at the envelope. I wished the sunlight on it would make it burst into flames.
"It's not your fault," Dan said. I looked back at him. He had his arms crossed and was also glaring at the envelope. "It's Luke's."
I sighed and face front again. "Don't do this. Not now." As you can probably guess, Luke was a contentious point between us. Dan blamed Luke for all the hardships I'd faced during the Second Titan War and the aftermath, once he'd died.
"It's true, though!" Dan burst. "I heard that man clear as day say that your new employers are looking to cash in on something they feel they're owed because, fucking, Luke Castellan made a deal with them. You're suffering his consequences, and if he wasn't dead already, I would murder him right now. And now, I'm also suffering the consequences as well! So is Anya!"
"I'm sorry—"
"You're just as much a victim as we are," Dan interrupted harshly.
"You can't place all the blame on him," I snapped, looking back at him. I straightened up and turned to face him more fully. "I loved him, remember. It was my decision to join him."
"Not originally," Dan mumbled, looking away, petulantly. "You were trying to bring him back. And you weren't the one who made an allegiance with your new employers, either."
"You're too kind to me, Dan," I murmured, leaning my side against the back of the sofa.
Dan's eyes flickered to me and he shifted, mirroring how I was sitting. "Maybe I am. But I don't care." He paused. "Just like you'd kill yourself to protect me."
I frowned. "You deserve a normal life, Dan."
"So do you."
I opened my mouth to object but Dan barreled forward (expecting my objections), "I know you feel like you should be punished for letting so many die in the Second Titan War, but you've already been punished by the gods. They have decided that you've atoned for that. That should be enough. Those demigods aren't coming back, no matter what you do. You can't keep beating yourself up over it."
"It's easy for you to say that," I whispered, shaking my head. But I knew he was right. My therapist and I had discussed this at length. And we still talked about it because working through something like that took time.
Some subconscious part of me still felt that way, and it informed a lot of my actions. That and…well, I missed Luke. But that was a lot more selfish. And possibly a little morbid.
"We all went through two wars," Dan reminded me, voice quiet.
Being held hostage wasn't exactly a new thing for Dan. Kronos had kidnapped him during the Second Titan War to lure me out. Gaea had kidnapped him to hold his life as leverage over me to help her defeat the gods. I was getting tired of everyone using him against me. I had a feeling he would agree.
"I know," I murmured. "I'm sorry."
Dan opened his mouth to say something but the door to his apartment opened, but it sounded more like something crashing to the floor.
Present
I started awake in the Apollo cabin's infirmary. It was a separate wing, with its own front door, connected by a corridor to the Apollo cabin proper.
To my left, I heard heaving, shaky breathing. I quickly sat up and looked over to see the teen boy—no, Apollo, lying in a cot. Next to him was Will Solace, my younger half-brother. Now, Apollo often preferred to look like a young teen boy when he was a god, but seeing him as a young teen mortal next to my half-brother made my head spin.
Will looked panicked. His hands were shaking. Then I realized Apollo's lips were steaming. I glanced at the floor, remembering the sound in my…dream? Flashback? Of something falling and saw that a small glass of nectar laid on the floor, next to Will's feet.
My half-brother didn't seem to notice I'd woken, or even sat up. His eyes were solely focused on Apollo as he quickly took one of Apollo's hands in both of his and began singing a healing hymn. I vaguely wondered if that'd still work, since Apollo was mortal now and held domain over that. But when Apollo's lips stopped steaming and healed from what looked like third-degree burns, I had my answer.
Will let out a long, low breath, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he let go of Apollo's hand. His blue eyes flickered up to me. He didn't seem surprised, so he must've noticed before.
"You changed your hair," he remarked, in a surprisingly calm tone for how panicked he seemed a moment ago. Will had a very calming effect on people.
I inclined my head. "How does it look?"
Will nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Good. It suits you."
I smiled and Will laughed quietly. Suddenly, I remembered my jacket and my phone. Adrenaline shot through me and I looked around the room. I was still wearing my turtleneck, thankfully, but I couldn't seem to find my jacket. My panic quickly grew, my prickles bursting with it.
"What are you looking for?" Will asked, now concerned.
"My…my jacket," I said, standing. "Where—?"
"In the cabin," Will said quickly, gesturing to the door that led to the corridor. "Tori, what—?" he continued but I was already half-way through the door. The sound of my footsteps seemed to boom as I made my way through the corridor. I burst through the other door, but no one else was in the cabin. That was a small relief. I looked to the hooks near the front door of the cabin, and instantly saw my pea jacket. I went over to it and checked the pockets, first. Both phones, good. (My sword was also hanging from the hooks, but I'd leave it there for now.)
Then I checked to make sure Will hadn't followed me before pulling out the black one and checking to see if Hargrave had called. Another small relief: he hadn't.
I let out a steadying breath, trying to calm my prickles as well. I'd probably have to take some pain meds or make more of the elixir, though.
I donned my jacket again and made my way back to the infirmary.
"Sorry," I said to Will, who was still sat next to Apollo in a chair. "I, um…" I trailed off, realizing I didn't really have an excuse. I wanted to keep my phones a secret. I couldn't have anyone asking questions. Even though I trusted my siblings with my life, I didn't want them to get mixed up in my complicated situation.
My siblings were the only ones who really stood by my side after the Second Titan War. Like I said, the rest of camp didn't exactly like me because I had joined Luke, so I had betrayed them. My siblings, however, had given me more kindness than I deserved (or, at least, more than I felt I deserved).
Will spared me. "What's going on with him?" Still seemingly calm, but I realized there was a tremor in his voice. His eyes looked a little tight.
"You know as much as I do," I said, shrugging. I went up to him and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "How are you holding up?"
I could see Will trying to hold himself together. Some part of me suddenly felt incredibly guilty that I'd left the Apollo cabin to him. He was head counselor of the Apollo cabin, and he was only sixteen! On some level, I'm not sure what else I was supposed to do…that was kind of part of the life of a demigod. But I hated thinking that way because it didn't have to be. Sixteen year old's should not have this kind of responsibility thrust on them. Will should've been experiencing the epic highs and lows of mortal high school.
He should've been learning to drive and worrying about homework and crushes. Not healing demigods with sword and knife wounds, or broken bones from falling off the climbing wall (which spewed lava, by the way). Not trying to care for our now, very mortal, teenage dad (who used to be a god).
I don't know if it was the tone in my voice or the way I was looking at him or my hand on his shoulder—it could've been all three—but the longer Will looked up at me, the more his lower lip trembled.
"Will," I said, worried.
"I-I…I almost killed him," he stuttered, tears filling his eyes. "I almost killed our…" He struggled to say the word, Dad. I really couldn't blame him. "I didn't know! I—"
I quickly pulled him into a hug. "But he's fine now," I assured. "You realized in time. I'm sorry I wasn't able to tell you."
Will buried his face in my neck and sniffled, putting his arms around me. "That girl knew," he muttered. "Meg? She didn't think to tell me."
"You realized in time," I repeated. "That's all that matters."
Will snuffled again. "You won't tell Kayla or Austin?"
I pulled back, wiping my thumb underneath his eyes. "Of course not."
He gave me a strange look, then, sniffling once more, but said nothing.
"What?" I asked, straightening up.
"I like the new look," Will commented. That was a blatant redirect, but I'd let it lie for now.
"Thank you," I curtsied slightly. I'd kept the jeans from my old wardrobe but that was about it. My Camp Half-Blood tee and quarter-sleeve shirts had been replaced by, as you know, a turtleneck and my black pea jacket (occasionally switched out with a black leather jacket). My sneakers were now soft, ankle-high leather boots (no high heel, though). Clipped in my jacket were my throwing knives.
And I, of course, still wore a few pieces of jewelry. One was a simple golden ring on my left middle finger. It had been a parting gift from Luke. It'd been bronze when I'd first gotten it, but the more I played with it, took it on and off, the more the bronze had chipped away to reveal the gold underneath. Then there was a black spiral ring on my right middle finger. It used to be a magical weapon—a beautiful black bow—but a giant had broken it during the Second Titan War. Apollo had found it and repaired it (no magic, though), and I'd kept it out of a weird sentimentality. Finally, there was another ring, hanging from a thing chain necklace. This ring had also been from Luke. Simple silver. Carved out of the bottom of the ring was a soundwave of Luke saying, "I love you." Within the middle, in small silver letters, was the word, "promise."
"You look all grown up," Will joked.
I rolled my eyes, but smiled good-naturedly, then asked, "Will you be okay if I head out for a little bit? I can stay, of course."
Will's eyebrows furrowed. "You're leaving so soon?"
"No, I want to give Chiron a debrief and visit some friends. I'll be staying for a little while."
I could tell Will wanted to ask why I was staying, but Apollo began shivering and mumbling in his sleep. Will's attention went from me to Apollo, and I quietly snuck out of the infirmary, back to the cabin. I adjusted the strap on my sword and put it on my back this time, then headed out. There was a crowd gathered in front of the infirmary door, and they paid me no mind as I made my way to the Big House.
The Big House was what it sounded like: A big, blue farm house with a wrap-around porch, three stories, and an attic. It used to be the mummified corpse of the Oracle of Delphi had been stored in the attic, but we'd gained a prophetess a couple years ago.
I tried not to think about it too much these days. Mostly because Apollo's old enemy, Python, had retaken Delphi. During the war with Gaea, Python had snuck back into the mortal realm through the Doors of Death. All prophecy had been cut off since then. Relatedly, being children of Apollo, we had…the best way I could describe them were precognitive abilities. We couldn't see the future or give prophecies, but we got feelings that were often right. It was like enhanced intuition. And ever since Python had retaken Delphi, our enhance intuition had been cut off.
When I thought about the whole situation, I was made aware of, what I could only describe as, a numb spot in my soul. Nothing was numb in my body, but my mind could feel something numb was there. It was an incredibly uncomfortable (and sometimes painful) experience, so I tried to lead my thoughts away from it as much as I could. I already had to deal with my chronic pain. I did not need to add an additional thing to mentally wrestle with on top of that.
Chiron was waiting on the porch, in centaur form, like he was expecting me. Maybe he was.
I smiled at him as I made my way up the steps of the porch. "It's good to see you again."
"You, as well, Tori," Chiron responded. "Would you like to go inside?"
I glanced at the screen door. I could only see a small section of the living room, but it brought back bad memories. I shook my head and looked back at Chiron.
"No, if it's alright with you, I'd like to stay out here," I said.
Chiron nodded and then gestured to some of the deck chairs behind him. I stepped passed him and took a seat on the edge, the rest of the wood cold from being outside.
"Mr. D is still on Olympus," Chiron said as he turned to face me. "If it makes any difference to you."
I blinked, slightly surprised. "He hasn't returned to camp?"
"I'm afraid not," Chiron said in a low voice. "In fact, the gods have gone silent since the Second Giant War."
That was…odd. Then, again, a lot of things had started falling into place after the Second Giant War. It was all connected. Because of course it was.
"Is the living room still decorated with…" I began to ask.
"Only the dining room now," Chiron told me.
I nodded. Then paused. Then briefly recounted how I'd ended up bursting from the woods with Apollo and Meg. "And I just wanted to let you know I'll be staying for a little while," I finished. "Something is going on at camp, isn't there? Is it anything I can help with?"
Chiron frowned. "Some of the campers have gone missing," he said. "I've closed off the woods. It seems something is calling to them. They wander off into the woods, but never return. I can't send scouts in. I'm afraid they won't return either." He let out a weary sigh. "But I'm afraid that's nearly the least of my worries right now. As you may have noticed, communications have been on the fritz for demigods, both mortal and magical. I've sent satyrs out to retrieve demigods, but none have returned, and no new demigods have made their way here, with or without satyr escort."
I swallowed the bile in my throat. I didn't know the whole picture, but I knew exactly who was behind this. And now, I had to lie, once again, that I knew nothing. (Side note: having decided to stay outside was not a good decision for my prickles.)
"And now Apollo has shown up," I said.
"An omen," Chiron agreed. "I wish to speak to him as soon as he is able. I believe that Apollo and Meg may be the only ones who can help with this issue."
"It's all connected," I murmured.
"Precisely." His eyes had gone a bit far-away, and he stroked his beard, deep in thought. I couldn't imagine what Chiron was thinking. He'd been alive and had trained the very first of the Greek heroes. He'd seen so much, his wisdom must've been near boundless. Still, so much pressure to protect and teach and train new demigods aged him, especially when they were in danger and there was not much he could do to help them. There were some aspects about his training that I now criticized—he could easily get stuck in the ancient ways—but that didn't negate the kind of knowledge he held.
I thought about asking if he had an idea of what could be calling people into the woods and not returning them, but something flashing across the surface of the canoe lake caught my eye. I glanced back up at Chiron to see if he'd noticed. His eyes were still far-away, still absentmindedly stroking his beard.
I stood. "Well, I just wanted to let you know why I'm here and that I'll be sticking around for a bit. So if you can think of anything I can help with, let me know."
Chiron nodded, focusing on me for a moment. "Yes, thank you, Tori. I appreciate it. I don't know that there will be that much for you to do—what with Apollo here, now, but I will let you know."
I nodded and then made my way off the porch and down to the canoe lake.
I slowly made my way over to the small field of vibrant, yellow daffodils next to the willow at the edge of the lake. Despite the cold weather, they bloomed and swayed and danced in the breeze. I smiled, my heart aching.
After the Second Titan War, I'd made friends with many of the satyrs, seeing as I often went with them on missions to rescue demigods and bring them back to camp. One of the satyrs was TJ. He'd died on one of those missions. I'd been too late to help him.
Satyrs, not having souls, were reincarnated as plants. TJ had been reincarnated as a daffodil. His friend, also a satyr, had planted him next to the willow and the next morning, the small field of evergreen daffodils had bloomed.
Out of the corner of my eye, Willow the, well, willow, emerged from her tree and came to stand next to me. She wore a petal-soft, light pink dress. Her golden brown hair swept over her shoulder. And she was barefoot. But most nature spirits often were. They didn't exactly need socks or shoes.
I kept my eyes on the daffodils.
"I miss him," she sighed. "He was such a dork, but very sweet."
I felt my eyes smart and my throat tighten. "Yeah, I miss him, too."
Willow, from seemingly thin air, procured a bundle of yellow daisies. Specifically, the kind of yellow daisy that only grew two places: in and around the Apollo cabin, and on Delos. I wondered when she'd gotten them, because it couldn't have been since I'd arrived. I felt I would've seen if she'd come out of her tree to go pick them from around the Apollo cabin. Could she take a different kind of plant life into her tree? Was that even possible? Did she have magical pockets in her petal-pink dress?
"I-is that…allow—can you do that?" I asked, straightening up and looking over at her. I was more surprised they still looked freshly plucked.
"It's allowed." Willow giggled as she stepped closer to me and reached for my braid and began carefully weaving the stems of the daisies into it.
After a moment of silence, Willow said, "Do you remember the time you had to do dishes as a punishment and the harpies asked you to sing?"
I caught on quickly and chuckled. "Oh yes, I remember it well. I'm surprised they even asked me." Willow smiled softly, keeping her eyes on what she was doing. I continued. "That was…after dinner, right? Not lunch?"
"Right." Willow stepped back, then, admiring her handiwork. "You should go look in a mirror when you can. I think that's my best work yet."
I bowed slightly, smiling. "I will. Thank you."
We exchanged a look as I straightened up, and Willow ever-so-slightly nodded. Then Willow smiled and waved, going back to her tree. I waved back and then turned and began to make my way to the Apollo cabin. I wanted to see if sleeping beauty had woken yet.
Jeez these seem to be getting longer already. I'm just a wordy bitch lmao. I actually have a feeling that's not going to last. I have a feeling they may actually get shorter alskdjflkj we'll see.
Not much else to say really. I have most of what happens in THO planned out already so hopefully *knock on wood* writing this act goes pretty smoothly. I mean, I have quite a lot for each book planned, but some are more shaky than others. And then there's that annoying 6-weeks between THO and TDP (Rick why), but I have an idea percolating. All that to say, hopefully *knock on wood again* updates won't be too far apart for a little bit.
Hope you enjoyed! Comments are much appreciated ^_^
Thank you for reading,
TheBrightestNight