Travis' head was killing him.
His neck was stiff.
And his arm felt like jelly that someone went stab happy with.
He was pretty sure something actually did kill him considering that there wasn't a single part of him that didn't hurt, ache, or was completely numb.
A soft groan left his lips.
"Hey, easy now. You've got a serious concussion."
"Lee?" It certainly sounded like the son of Apollo.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "Take it slow, I've got some water for you."
Travis slowly blinked his eyes open, squinting. Too damn bright.
He took small sips as Lee carefully tilted the drinking glass for him. He didn't realize how parched he was until the water quenched his thirst. The son of Apollo set the glass down on a wooden dining table.
He did not remember being invited over for dinner.
That was not a good sign.
He was also pretty sure Lee had both eyes the last time he checked.
Also, not a good sign.
Travis frowned at the son of Apollo, "Shit."
"It's not that bad."
"Can you even see anymore?"
Lee knit his eyebrows, "One eye is enough."
Travis didn't believe him. His right eye had a wicked cut from the top of his brow down to his cheek. The color has faded, more grey than blue now. A thin line divides the pupil and iris into two parts. But there was a part of the wound that looked… burnt. As if someone took a heated rod and seared the entire cut shut.
Okay, that was an interesting development he didn't remember.
But something tickled the back of his mind.
He was forgetting something.
"Weren't we in a library?"
"Yeah, we were."
"I vaguely recalled getting my ass kicked."
"That did happen."
"It was racist, right?"
"What?" Lee frowned.
"I can't move my arm," Travis tried hard to remember. He squinted his eyes as if that would help his brain find the information he wanted. "My head feels like someone crashed a car into it. And I'm pretty sure the person that knocked me out committed a hate crime because I'm a demigod. That makes sense, right?"
The son of Apollo looked at Travis like he was an idiot with brain damage.
Travis did not want to be medically diagnosed as an idiot with brain damage.
"Bianca pissed off the goddess of memory," Lee said.
"Okay," Travis nodded. Things were starting to come back to him. "And then we talked it out?"
"Not really—
"I turned my charm up to eleven and persuaded her that our band of devastatingly good-looking heroes were just too pretty to kill." Yes, that made complete sense to him. Who could bring themselves to harm such a handsome guy like him?
Lee's pale blue eye looked at him with pity, "Maybe it would be better if you just took a nap."
"No can do, my friend. My ass is numb, and my legs are starting to get tingly." He tried to rise from his seat. That did not work out for him. Travis couldn't stand up; he was tied to the chair. "Why am I tied down?"
Lee closed his eyes, well one of them, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He exhaled softly.
"I'm not into this," Travis said.
"What?"
"Katie wrapped me in vines the last time I pranked her cabin, and it made me feel weird." It made his heart race and his skin flush. "Untie me please."
"Travis—"
"I'm scared I'll start liking it."
Lee frowned, "Stop talking."
"You ever look at a girl and your heart stops beating?" He asked. Lee was more on the pretty end, maybe it was those Apollo genes, probably had his fair share of admirers. He knew how to talk to girls, right?
"No."
"Guy?"
"No."
"Dryads?"
"Those are also female. And no, dating isn't my thing."
"Something with a pulse and vaguely human shaped?"
"Are you even listening—how hard did you get hit?"
"What I'm trying to say is that I don't like it when she's mad at me," Travis said. "But like, she doesn't talk to me unless I'm pranking her."
"Are you okay?"
"I like the way she smiles."
"Is this seriously happening right now?" Lee looked around, bewildered.
"She smells nice too."
"Why the fuck—"
"She put me in a chokehold once and she smelled like mint and blueberries."
"Travis," Lee said seriously, waiting to get the son of Hermes' attention.
"Yeah?" He smiled. "Hey, you might be my best friend."
Lee nodded sincerely at his words and looked him in the eyes. "That's nice for you—I think you have brain damage."
"Oh," Travis took a moment to internalize that. "At least I'm not an—"
"You're also an idiot."
"Oh." He deflated.
The son of Apollo held up a hand, "How many fingers?"
"Easy," Travis said. "Four."
"Travis, I'm making a fist."
"Put 'er there," he tried to high-five Lee's fist through his bindings and ended up kind of waving instead. "Dude, don't leave me hanging."
He left Travis hanging.
"Listen, we need to talk."
"I know," he nodded sagely. "You're my best friend."
Travis thought the son of Apollo's face might have broken based on how much he kept frowning. He must've been stuck in 'pensive and brooding' mode and didn't know how to switch it off.
"Thank you," he felt his voice shake as memories started coming back. He remembered the smell of gun smoke and blood. His ears rang from his own weapon and the chilling dirge of Fate.
"For what?"
"You didn't have to, but you killed… her instead of letting Connor do it."
Lee didn't frown this time and instead kept his face neutral.
"Why did you do that?" Travis whispered. His head hurt and it was so hard to think clearly.
"Would you rather have your brother's hands be stained instead?"
"N-No. That's not what I… what was going through your head?"
"What do you think?" Lee asked cryptically. Neither his face nor body language betrayed his thoughts. "Why do you think I did it?"
Travis swallowed nervously. A lump forming in his throat.
But before he could vocalize his suspicions, someone groaned.
"Why is there so much—is that ichor?"
"Percy?" Travis tilted his head. Now that Percy mentioned it, there were thousands of tiny specks of glimmering gold dotting the walls, furniture, and even Lee. The son of Apollo was drenched in golden blood. What did I miss?
"Travis? Wait, was that Connor?" The son of Poseidon put a hand on the dining table and pulled himself up.
"Nope, pretty sure I'm Travis," he said. The he looked at Lee, "I am Travis, right?"
"Yes," the son of Apollo stiffened, he turned to Percy. "Careful, you… Eris knocked you out."
Immediately, Percy went from groggy to alert. His sea green eyes blazed, unmistakably hatred raging within them. "Where—"
"Thalia isn't here," Lee said, his lips formed a grim line. "And… well, I don't think you want to see that goddess right now."
Travis realized something. He never actually took his eyes off Lee until Percy made his presence known. It was then that he noticed that Lou Ellen and Connor were also tied to chairs beside him and were sleeping. Or knocked out. He couldn't really tell the difference. There was in fact no goddess of discord and no daughter of Zeus in the room either.
They were still missing someone.
Travis frowned, "Where's Bianca?"
Percy's eyes flashed with concern, and he looked around before kneeling to a spot that Travis couldn't see from his seat at the table.
"Hey," Percy said softly. "Wake up."
"Five more minutes," a tired voice muttered.
Travis assumed it was likely Bianca.
He watched as Lee swallowed nervously, taking in deep breaths like he was preparing to get yelled at. Like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar at two hours and fifteen minutes past midnight. Travis may or may not have been in that position before.
The son of Apollo looked at the floor.
Percy helped Bianca to her feet.
Travis wondered why the girl's arm looked like a serial killer had their way with. He wondered why he felt so scared whenever he looked at Connor sleeping peacefully. But most of all, he wondered why Lee wasn't meeting their eyes.
"We need to talk," Percy said. He and Bianca had the same concerned expression as they approached the son of Apollo.
"I know," Lee said quietly. He nodded slightly, almost as if he were ashamed of something he did.
"What's going on?" Travis had a feeling this wasn't one of those pep talks.
"I-I," Lee balled his fists. His body trembled with nervous energy.
Travis waited and watched, not fully understanding the emotions that each of them was experiencing.
Bianca had this sad look in her eyes.
Travis wasn't sure if Percy would ever put on his goofy smile anymore.
"Travis," Lee flicked his blue eye to son of Hermes. "Why do you think I did it? Why did I kill her instead of letting Connor do it?"
That arrow flew true.
Went through one eye and out the back of her skull.
Maybe the Moirai thought it was funny that he lost the same one.
Travis remembered fighting next to Percy. He remembered saving Percy's life. He remembered killing people whose faces he knew. He refused to remember their names. He has locked the information away inside of himself to dampen the cracking of his soul. It would drive him mad if he thought about it for too long. He would break if he acknowledged them as more than strangers.
He looked at Lee.
"I meant it, you know," Travis found a certain clarity remembering what the six of them had been through together. "You might just be my best friend."
He watched as Percy and Bianca furrow their eyebrows.
Lee's face has become an unreadable mask.
"Nobody trusted us anymore," Travis felt bitterness wind its way around his heart. "And I know you were desperate." He remembered how the son of Apollo radiated worry at the meeting, looking as if his world had fallen apart. "But it meant a lot that you took that risk with Connor and me. It meant a lot that you were nice to Lou."
He glanced at the daughter of Hecate whose black hair was stained rust red with her own blood.
"She misses her brother. You… you're a lot like him. You always put others first. Too much really. I'm sure you noticed, but she's lonely. Lou… needed that kindness."
Lee's mask cracked a bit as he frowned.
"You're a good person," Travis looked at him and tried to convey his sincerity. "You keep trying to take it all in. Just like when you spared Connor the guilt."
Sometimes, he could still feel blood sticking to his hands.
"I couldn't sleep that night." Travis admitted. "I kept smelling it. Hearing it. I wanted to scream. I must've passed out from exhaustion."
Percy's sword hand trembled.
Bianca looked like she wanted to vomit.
Lee was a statue.
"Connor knew them. You didn't have to do it. She would've died anyways. But you did, and then you said that you were the reason she died. And that Connor's hands were clean. It wasn't your responsibility, but you took that weight off his shoulders. Even if it wasn't much, he didn't have to carry all of it."
Travis stared at his dead eye.
"It's okay to ask for help," he said quietly. "I know you're not okay. But you've been good to me and the people I care about. You stuck your neck out for us so I'll stick mine out for you."
He watched as Percy frowned.
He watched as Bianca tilted her head.
"Why did you make that oath on the Styx?" Lee asked, keeping his tone as even as possible.
"I didn't trust you," Travis admitted. "You swore that we would all make it back. I-I just didn't think you were including yourself in it. You kept getting hurt. Kept getting injured worse every time. I don't know how bad it is… but I knew you wouldn't risk our lives. If I put my life on the line, you wouldn't be as reckless with yours."
Lee was always rushing headlong into danger. Always by their side when they needed him. He fought without a care for his own safety but prioritized theirs.
"How long?" The son of Apollo whispered.
Percy shuffled.
Bianca held her injured arm.
"I didn't really mean it the first time," Travis looked down. "But I asked if you were suicidal after you saved us from the hydra venom. I didn't know if you were just heroic or fucking stupid. But the way you answered… I just didn't believe you. And then you made the oath, and I just knew something was wrong. I can't tell when someone lies as well as you can, but my intuition told me something was off."
He met Lee's eye again.
"Was it right?"
"Yes," the son of Apollo confirmed without hesitation.
"I don't know what happened," Travis said. "But I'm here if you need someone to talk to. I'll listen. You deserve that at the very least. Because you're killing yourself for us. You… you're falling apart, and I don't want to see it happen. I didn't think much of you before this quest, but I owe you and I'm going to pay it back. Whatever you need, I'll help, okay? So, talk to me, please."
He watched as Lee turned around, facing away from all of them.
Percy and Bianca must've found out, or Lee must've told them.
It's why they looked at him as if were a wounded puppy.
"Thank you, Travis," Lee's voice wobbled. "You're a good friend, just like your dad."
And then he shook.
Not from crying or some other form of emotional distress. It was from pure jubilation.
The room filled with cruel and twisted laughter.
Travis' blood froze in his veins.
Percy's eye widened as his hand dipped into his pocket.
Bianca shuddered.
A pair of large black wings sprouted from his back, dotted with constellations and cosmic dust, covering his entire form.
"But you really should tell that to Stardust," a woman's silky-smooth contralto sang out. "He's the one that needs to hear it most."
A baleful gust blew through the room as Eris swung her large wings around and turned to face them.
The goddess smiled easily.
Eris' black toga was ripped to shreds, barely hanging on by its last threads. Her chest was a canyon carved from flesh, littered by hundreds of stab wounds. Each incision was wide and jagged, as if whatever weapon that inflicted them had been twisted out. Snapped ribs, punctured lungs, and crushed organs greeted the demigods like a macabre art piece.
Travis tasted bile as vomit filled his mouth.
"I'm glad that Stardust has friends like you," Eris' smile grew fonder. She twirled a stand of her hair around a gold-stained hand. "Tweedle Dee, you and I, we are going to fix him together. Won't that be nice?"
Thalia focused her attention on the splotch of blood on the bottom Eris' boot.
She zeroed in on the shade of crimson that stood out from the rest.
It was fresh.
Recently spilled.
Thalia glanced at the son of Apollo.
Stained from head to toe in his own blood.
It mixed well with his tears, like paint.
It dyed his hair with streaks of scarlet, starting from the roots, as if someone had split his head in two.
She brought her eyes back down to the goddess' boot.
Thalia could imagine Eris, in ecstasy at the act of shattering his skull beneath her heel. Thalia had seen it firsthand, experienced the goddess breaking her ribs. Felt her nails clawing their way through her stomach. Tugging at her small intestines. Scratching at soft and tender flesh never meant to be touched. Eris probably knew the inside of her body more intimately than Thalia did herself.
She watched and refused to act.
She let the goddess have her way with him.
Thalia chooses to be a bystander.
It would be easy to call Eris a monster, but it wouldn't be accurate. That label could not accurately capture how depraved and vile she was. Eris was the devil, something that lurked within the darkness of a person's soul. And Thalia needed her. She needed every drop of information that the devil would dangle in front of her. The only thing better than knowing the devil was having their love. She couldn't afford to lose that deranged adoration. No matter how sick and twisted it was. The goddess was using her, and she needed to use Eris in turn.
Thalia was selfish like that.
That was why she just watched, sitting obediently, like a dog, fidgeting as Eris tormented him.
Oh, how she squirmed as the goddess toyed with his secrets.
Beryl and Jason were a part of a past that she would fight tooth and nail to keep buried. Or at least she would have. Because the devil had promised to return to her a long-lost brother, and that was too sweet a deal to pass up. The devil had whisked her away, brought her to a sanctum of knowledge, and Thalia exchanged the past for information. She had a choice. She chose to give the memory up to Mnemosyne, made the decision to accept Eris' offer, Thalia chose to walk into hell hand in hand with the devil.
Fletcher had no choice.
It left a lingering bitterness on Thalia's tongue when Eris puts on his mother's face like a mask.
It made her gag when the goddess brought him to tears with a stroke from his mother's hand.
It cut her heart when the goddess sang in his mother's voice to manipulate him into spilling the contents of his soul.
Thalia felt guilty for not speaking up. For not drawing her weapon like Percy had. For not having the same amount of concern as that Bianca girl. But she has her own demons to contend with, her own desires to chase.
Thalia was selfish like that.
She continued to focus on the patch of blood that was starting to dry on Eris' boot.
Fletcher's blood.
She recognized the sticky viscosity of it, the darker than natural shade of red that spilled from his nose.
Thalia did not think twice about slugging him.
And it made her hands shake thinking about it.
Just like Beryl, punching and screaming when you don't get your way.
Fletcher had been right, of course he'd been right. Blackstone and the Stolls were down, and she should have just let it be for the moment. If she had been more elegant and careful with her words, Thalia could have explained what she saw to him. Soaked in his own blood, shouting at nothing, and snapping at the air like a wild animal. He was in no condition to help others.
She tried her best.
But that has never been enough before.
Thalia has never been enough before.
What was she supposed to say when he refused?
Thalia was never good with her words.
Nobody was there to teach her how to explain her thoughts.
She learned how to swear, how to hurl around insults, and how to throw a punch.
Gods, did she know how to throw a punch.
She was a prodigy at hurting people.
Maybe even liked it a little.
Just a teeny, tiny bit.
Only if they deserved it.
Beryl taught her better than any teacher could.
She meant it with every swing.
Thalia meant it when she broke his nose.
She wanted to hurt him.
Needed to shut him up.
Grace.
Gods, did she want to make him shut the fuck up. Not Thalia Grace, no, just Grace. Fuck. Piece of shit. Bastard. Son of a bitch. Gods, did she want to break more than his nose.
She felt a smile tug on her lips just thinking about it.
And then she feels cold.
Rotten to the core.
Gnarled up inside.
Glass shards grind in her gut.
She wanted to hurt him and could not resist the temptation.
Just like mom, she flexed her fingers. Monster.
Violence came so easily to her.
Killer.
Gods, it felt good in the moment, so fucking good.
Demon.
Now it makes her feel… dirty.
Unlovable.
"I love you," Eris playfully jabbed her cheek with a finger and left a blot of Fletcher's blood on her skin.
A bead of sweat ran down her neck.
"Darling," the goddess cooed. It made her heart ache. "I love you so much. You're the most beautiful girl that a mother could ask for."
Thalia trembled.
The goddess chuckled, swaying like a drunkard in revelry.
And then she laughed.
Eris let loose a chorus of soul-shaking cackles that dripped with sinful delight. The goddess clutched at her chest with one hand while the other ran through her long black hair. She was oh-so pleased, so full of spiteful love and adoring malice. Her red eyes swirled with unabated need, a ravenous desire to devour and destroy.
The devil was euphoric.
"Love you," the goddess giggled, consumed by her own mania and psychosis. "Love you. Love you." She stalked towards her victim and closed her hand around Fletcher's throat. "I love you so much that I can't get you out of my mind."
The air was harsh.
Oppressive.
Thalia felt it wash over her, barely tingling her skin, excluded from its rampage.
But Percy and Bianca, they were paralyzed, trapped within their bodies.
The son of Poseidon trembled; his sword sang as the vibration traveled up the bronze blade.
His companion had her face frozen in fear, the little spasms running up her arm sent specks of blood down to stain the carpet.
Thalia briefly wondered where all the cuts came from.
The goddess snapped her fingers and the demigods collapsed, falling over like corpses. If it was not for the rise and fall of their chests, she would have thought them dead. She feels guilt begin to eat her from the inside out, gnawing at that troublesome conscience of hers. Thalia is complicit, a coward who will not stand up against Eris.
Fletcher made a pathetic gasp for air as Eris lifted him off the floor.
"What to do…" the goddess pondered. Her eyes glinted. "Who do I use to fix you? Your mother's corpse? The meaningless little lives of your brothers and sisters? The five other moths that you fly with? Who would hurt you the most to lose?"
The son of Apollo spat a bloody glob at her.
Her head flicked to the side and rendered the act of defiance moot.
A shiver traveled through the goddess' body.
"I love you so much, you poor Fate-touched fool," Eris ran her tongue across the wound on his face. It followed the groove from beginning to end. Ran over his eye and licked it clean. She took her time, savoring the taste and violation. "They made you tame. Turned you into a docile little pet. Made you afraid of yourself. I'll save you. I'll make you human again."
Thalia's stomach turned. She was going to be sick. Everything Eris said and did was revolting, obscene, and degrading.
"This is a promise, Stardust," the goddess said, strangling Fletcher until he started convulsing. "Until you start living, I will never let you die. Every time you try, I'll serve you a feast of flesh and marrow. Sometimes a brother. Sometimes a sister. Maybe even a lover one day. It doesn't matter who, only that it'll be someone you care about, and that you'll enjoy it. Every. Last. Drop. Of. Blood."
Fletcher choked, his words dying before they could form. He failed to pry open her grip.
Nausea tickled the back of her throat, teasing at her gag reflex. The goddess has repurposed the original torture she planned for Thalia and is now using it to torment the son of Apollo.
"I'll make you into an artist. You'll be the reason they die. Your hand is going to paint the end their lives. Do you understand me, Stardust? I'll give you a real reason to die. Howl and scream all you want, but I wonder… how many meals will it take before you gain a taste for fratricide? How many until you learn to love it? You're already broken, what's a few more pieces? I'll start over as many times as it takes!"
Eris snatched the dagger holstered on Fletcher's belt and raised it high. She plunged it into her heart with fervent glee, each stab followed another. She roared with laughter, accentuating each brutal thrust with the melody of murder. A fountain of divine blood sent glittering droplets of ichor across the room. All the while the goddess it belongs to continues to hack away at herself. Over and over until the dagger's blade was baptized in gold and she has painted Fletcher like a bloody sunset.
Thalia looked away and focused instead on the callouses on her hands.
The fanatical tones of slaughter filled the room. The goddess ribs snapped under her assault. The stench of ichor permeated the air with ashes, brimstone, and apples.
"Until you're perfect. Until you're human again. Until you love me back."
She can't stop the shudder that rattled her to the bone.
Run.
Run.
Run.
"Don't think I forgot about you, Kiddo," Eris let Fletcher slip from her grasp. Thalia loses sight of him as the goddess stalked over to her. She wobbled; the instability of her psyche bled through into her movements. Her chest was an open cavity of broken bones and decimated organs. The golden dagger gleamed in her hand, reflecting the fear in Thalia's eyes. "You chose me, remember?"
A noise finds its final resting place in her throat.
"I love you so much, Thalia," her red eyes were alight with murderous affection. "You're mine. You'll be greater than Helen. My darling daughter. My pretty little killer. I'll give you everything your pathetic heart beats for. And then…"
Thalia cannot speak, breathe, or think.
She is stricken with terror.
"You'll love me, right?"
Crimson pools revealed a psychotic, unhinged longing.
"You'll love me and never leave. You won't, Thalia. You can't. I'll never let you go. You're mine, all mine, they can't have you back. I took you from her and now you belong to me. Mine. Mine. Mine. You chose me!"
Gold-stained fingers brushed against her cheek and left streaks of divine blood.
"You're mine."
Run.
Run.
Run.
"Tell me who helped you, Thalia," Eris smiled, full of sharp love and tender hate. "Tell me who's going to make your darkest desires come true." Her scarlet eyes spoke a thousand promises kept with blood. "Tell me who owns you."
Thalia didn't say a thing.
She couldn't.
Terror has laid claim to her body, and even the emotion is petrified with fear.
Eris planted a soft kiss on Thalia's forehead, her breath tickled as she whispered "That's alright. I can wait. When you're ready." The goddess giggled. "You chose me!" She cannot contain her joy, doubling over in laughter. "You chose me!" The dagger swung wildly, slicing the air, as the goddess squirmed in pleasure on the ground. Her perforated heart spurted ichor. "You chose me!" Her smile, her real smile is the purest expression of bliss that Thalia has ever seen. "I gave you a choice and you chose me! My pretty little killer! You're perfect!"
Perfect.
Everything that she was not.
Her heart twisted hearing it.
Fletcher pulled himself up, leaning against the wall as he rubbed his throat. Eris has imprinted the shape of her hand on his neck like a cattle's brand. A sign of her affection? A mark of ownership? Perhaps both. They were equally awful.
Eris panted, her giggles slowly dying until she released a drawn-out, satisfied sigh, "Here." She flicked her hand, returning Fletcher's dagger to him.
The blade sank into the wall, a hair's breadth away from his head.
Fletcher's good eye twitched.
Fear?
Anger?
A bit of both is what Thalia settled on.
"Why would I ever take anything from you?" He had enough bite left to growl at her.
The goddess folded her arms behind her head, brought one leg over the other, and kept wearing her true smile, "You know I'm serious. You're mine now, Stardust. Even if your heart stops beating, I'll free you from Thanatos' grubby little mitts. I'll fix you, teach you how to live, and show you how to be grateful."
Fletcher went still.
"Now or later, that dagger is going to be in your hands. But if later…"
He closed his fingers around the handle.
"Decide who you'll have for dinner."
The wallpaper split further as his hand trembled on the dagger's hilt.
"Will? Michael? Kay—"
"I understand," Fletcher whispered. "I'll take it."
He wrenched it free. The coat of ichor remained on the blade, not even a speck is left behind in the wall. He slid it back into its sheath.
"Now what do we say?" Eris' eyes glinted with cruel fondness.
Fletcher swallowed his dignity, "T-thank you."
"You're welcome, Stardust."
Thalia felt sick, violated. She was just a witness and she felt unclean being in the same room as them.
"Thalia," her guardian devil sang.
Her chest hurt.
"You've made me so happy."
"I'm glad." She is screaming on the inside.
"Go have fun," the goddess pointed to the open exit. "Enjoy yourself tonight."
Thalia spared a glance at Percy and Bianca. She flicked her eyes to the Stolls and Blackstone. Could she leave them alone with her?
No.
"Take Stardust with you. You two get along, okay? I don't want to see my two favorite demigods fighting."
Fletcher's eye followed the same path that Thalia had just finished. He didn't want to go either.
Pale blue and stormy sapphires met each other, exchanging the same concern.
"They're safe with me," Eris muffled a yawn. "Go." She waved her hand, shooing them away.
Thalia felt the tug of gravity. The inexorable, fundamental force of the universe exerted itself on her body.
And then she falls, sideways through the door and the moment she's past the frame, the pull returns to normal and she lands on her ass.
Fletcher follows soon after, the same distorted gravity tossing him out.
The door slammed shut and the lock clicked into place.
A tablet is built into the wood.
It counted down: 05:59:57.
Hours. Minutes. Seconds.
"Damn it," Fletcher's eye simmered, exchanging pale blue for toxic green. He mouthed a silent curse and then whispered, "Gods fucking damn it." The heat died down as his iris went back to its usual color.
Thalia shoved her hands into her pockets and took in her surroundings.
Clean white walls. Obnoxious carpet pattern. Dozens upon dozens of identical doors in a narrow hallway. Yup, they were in a hotel.
No point loitering, she'd rather do something other than wait around six hours for Eris to let them back in. She also didn't want to see what would happen if Thalia refused to 'have fun' as the goddess so put it.
She spared one last look at the where Eris had trapped Percy and the rest of the dumbasses.
Sorry, Kelp Head, Thalia tried to exonerate her guilt conscience, her refusal to back them up. Not my fight. I've got bigger fish to fry. She has a brother to find and would rather have Eris as an ally than an enemy. She has seen what the goddess does to people that she 'loved' so much and she does not want to discover what happens to those that Eris hated.
Thalia was selfish like that.
She ignored Fletcher following her as she looked for an exit.
Enjoy myself? Yeah right. Not with this tool.
There weren't any words that the two of them needed to share.
Fuck off.
Her fingers itched.
What do you want?
She wanted to hit him again.
You had it coming.
She finds an elevator and pushes the button five times in rapid succession.
Hurry the fuck up.
Fletcher watched as the little dots above the metal frame lit up one by one.
At least you're quiet.
The elevator opened with a ding.
About damn time.
The woman inside screamed at the two demigods covered in blood. Middle-aged, maybe on the older side based on the wrinkles she's hiding behind a layer of makeup. She's dressed in a very nice red dress, with blond curls and bright blue eyes. Thalia watched as she faints not a moment later.
She hated everything about the woman's appearance.
"Shit," Fletcher said. Thalia imagined that they probably thought he was a one-eyed demon.
Thalia stepped in the elevator and snatched up her purse. She looked through the contents. Money. Makeup kit. Cellphone. Credit cards. Passport and driving license. This was a start. Maybe there was some room in this night for fun.
"Not bad," Thalia said.
Fletcher stared at her.
"What?"
He dragged the woman out of the elevator cabin and left her laying on her side before stepping into the elevator, pushing the button marked with a star at the bottom of the console.
Fifty fucking floors and they were at the very top.
Piece of shit death trap.
She's trapped in a metal coffin with a living bomb.
Quit judging me, blond bastard.
He kept looking at her sifting through the purse.
I'm not apologizing. She shoved the stolen goods into her pockets.
"Sorry," Fletcher said on floor number forty.
She looked at him from the corner of her eye.
"I shouldn't have shoved you like that. I… I knew you were injured, and I hurt you."
Thalia frowned and followed his line of sight. It wasn't the purse he was looking at; it was her shoulder. The one that Eris shoved a knife through during their first meeting.
"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," he looked down. "You were worried and… I know what it looked like, but I wasn't screaming at nothing. I swear to you, Thalia. I could've—should've explained." He winced, like someone just screamed into his ear. "It wouldn't have been your fault. I lost control. I could've killed them. I could've killed you. I'm sorry and it's not going to happen again."
What the fuck is going on?
"I'm sorry," Fletcher looked into her eyes. "I shouldn't have called you that."
Thalia hardened her gaze instinctively.
"Your mother abused you."
She stared at him, her fist ready to swing.
"I'm sorry," his eye drifted down to the scroll dangling off one of her belt loops. "You were right, I'll never call you that again."
The strangest thing about Fletcher is that he didn't make excuses. He didn't justify his actions at all, didn't pin it on anger, and didn't try to put any of the blame on her. He'd be in the right to do so if he wanted to. Thalia knows it and he probably did as well, she could make a saint swear. He just apologized instead.
"Okay," Thalia said softly. She was so fucking embarrassed. So damn stubborn, and the person she hurt is apologizing first. She doesn't know what words to say, so she resorts to the language she knows best. "Give me your best shot."
She spread her hands and stood still.
"What?"
"Tit for tat, Fletcher," she made a fist and tapped her cheek with it. "Hit me."
"No," he frowned.
"I sucker punched you."
"I'll get over it."
"Just hit me. It'll make you feel better."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because it felt good to hit you." Gods, it was so satisfying. What's wrong with me?
"I'm not you, Thalia."
Monster. Killer. Demon.
"Quit being a fucking a bitch and hit me!" she shouted.
"Why?" He is infuriatingly calm again.
I liked you better when you were being an asshole.
"I'm not good at… talking it out," Thalia admitted. Her ears burned. "Just hit me and we'll be square."
"Is this what you want?" he asked.
"It's what I understand." It was second nature to her.
"Okay," he raised both fists and she recognized the stance.
"You box?"
"Every now and then, but Michael's the best."
"Good." Hit me.
She stared him down, waiting for the swing.
He's faster than she expects, his punch is practiced, refined after thousands of repetitions. Fletcher wasn't as thin as she thought now that she had a good look at him. He's an inch or two taller than Percy and a bit more muscular. Archers were surprisingly fit, never as scrawny as she expected them to be.
Thalia refused to flinch as his fist closed in on her.
The punch was mechanical, a muscle memory that formed the same tried-and-true technique time and time again. He was her opposite. Thalia used brute force to break whoever stood in her way.
She gave him a good hit.
He'll give her one back.
Then they'll be even.
That was the language she understood.
Fletcher stopped it short a centimeter away from her face.
He flicked her in the cheek with a finger.
It didn't even sting.
"We're square, Thalia."
She didn't understand him at all.
The elevator chimed and the door slid open.
Fletcher's face was unreadable as he stepped out.
They're lucky that the lobby was empty, and that the person managing the front desk had fallen asleep on the job. A small puddle of drool dribbled out of their mouth.
Stupid fucker.
Fletcher walked off before she could say something.
Now she was the one trailing behind.
He turned the corner and walked into the men's restroom. A faucet squeaked and the spray of water could be heard.
She felt… heated.
Annoyed.
Thalia chased after him. She ignores propriety and kicks in the door of the bathroom. It thundered as it collided with the tile wall of the restroom. It's empty save for the son of Apollo.
"What the fuck was that, Fletcher?" She looked at his reflection in the mirror, he was unbothered by her intrusion.
The son of Apollo used a damp paper towel to wipe himself clean, "Women's restroom is further down the hall."
"Are you making fun of me?" Thalia hissed.
"No, my punches just aren't very strong."
"Try again," she growled. "Do it right this time."
"No," Fletcher dipped his hair under the water stream and washed out the blood. "I'm not hitting you."
The air crackled. Blue light flashed within the restroom. She was so fucking mad right now.
"You're really good at pissing me off, Fletcher."
He bundled the paper towels into a ball and dabbed at his soaked blond hair, "Sorry."
"Stop apologizing!" Thalia shouted.
The faucet squeaked as he turned the water off. Fletcher's fingers gingerly pulled taut the skin around his right eye, he examined the injury in the mirror. And much to Thalia's building frustration, he was still perfectly calm.
"I don't like hurting people," Fletcher said softly. "Never have. I don't like fighting. I don't like killing." He looked at his reflection and frowned like it offended him. "I'm not going to hurt you on purpose, so forget about it."
Thalia looked away from the pale blue eye that looked back at her from the glass.
Monster. Killer. Demon.
"Punching you wouldn't make me feel better."
Stop talking.
"I'm sorry you were raised that way."
What would you know?
"You mother—"
"We're not talking about her!" Thalia snapped. She could not stand that he knew. They all knew now. She hated it when Percy looked at her like she was a broken little girl. Like she was weak.
She wasn't helpless.
She didn't want his pity.
She wasn't that little girl being crushed under a pair of red stilettos anymore.
Thalia wasn't weak.
Fletcher's movements halted for a moment before he carefully began to brush his hair with his fingers.
"She hurt you."
"I said we're—"
"Eris."
Thalia froze.
"She's the one who gave you those injuries," Fletcher's pale blue eye continued to watch her from the mirror.
"How?"
"Because monsters go for the kill. Those wounds were meant to cause pain," he frowned. "Well, most of them. You almost bled out from the inside out, huh?"
Thalia felt the dull ache of where the bone had protruded from her stomach.
"She's using you."
"I know," her voice is softer than she expected. "I'm using her too."
"She loves you," Fletcher's eye is icy-cold. "And me. All of us."
What was she supposed to say?
"She's completely insane," he said.
Thalia thought that was a severe understatement.
"What are you doing with her?"
"None of your business."
"That goddess is alone with my friends. Our friends. It damn well is my business."
"The only person there that's my friend is Percy and he's too stupid to die."
"So, you're willing to risk his life and five other people?"
He is so selfless that it disgusted her. Always focusing on others instead of himself. Just like when his eye was split in two, he got angry with her for worrying about him.
"Do you ever think about yourself?" Thalia crossed her arms.
"What's the point of that?" He picked away at the blood under his nails.
He continued to clean himself meticulously, scrubbing away every speck of crimson and gold that painted his body.
Thalia sighed before walking over the sink next to him. Might as well clean herself up. She turned both handles and let the water get warm. She pulls the paper towel roughly from its dispenser, dragging out too many sheets at once.
"What's your poison?" she asked. He went still. The daughter of Zeus had no tact with her interrogation. She glanced at his hands. "Wrist slitter?"
The son of Apollo is surprisingly forthcoming.
"No."
He's got no scars there.
"Arm cutter?"
"Nope."
Not a single mark.
"Overdose?"
"Impossible."
He didn't look like a junkie to her, too much of a boy scout.
"Have you tried?"
"No."
"Was she lying then?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I don't hurt myself," Fletcher looked her in the eyes. "I've never tried to… well, you know."
Thalia wiped the grime off her face and the dots of blood at the corner of her mouth.
"I just don't care."
"About?" Thalia didn't know how to do this. Killing monsters? Easy. Talking about feelings? Nearly impossible for her unless she got to beat someone senseless. It didn't help that she didn't know a single thing about him other than he could explode and that punching him was really satisfying.
"Myself."
"How?"
"I take risks. Put my life on the line. It… makes it more meaningful. Mom always told me to do something good with it. I can't bring her back. But I'm trying to make up for it. I'm trying to be someone she would be proud of."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes." He almost sounded defensive.
"Okay," she said quietly.
The sound of running water is the only thing that filled the silence.
"That's it?" He seemed surprised. "You're done questioning me?"
"Do you want to say anything else?"
"No."
"Then we're done."
He nodded.
She glanced at the dagger Fletcher carried behind his back, right next to that empty crystal quiver with some strange liquid bubbling at the bottom.
Just like me.
Thalia drew Mischief. Eris' definition of the word was just as twisted as she was. A black blade with an even darker feather dangling from its pommel. A vicious little thing that sliced through Celestial bronze armor far too easily. It felt so natural to sink it into someone's neck, back, or heart.
It scared her how quick she was to use it.
She almost shoved it through Fletcher's remaining eye an hour ago when he pissed her off. That was what her instincts screamed at her to do.
Monster. Killer. Demon.
Now he had the devil's love too.
And she couldn't get rid of that guilt, that crawling shame that tugged at her conscience while she just watched Eris torment him. Gods, he made her mad. But she didn't like seeing him break down. No part of her was twisted enough to enjoy it.
"I'm sorry," Thalia spat out. It took all her willpower to swallow her pride. "You were right."
He didn't look at her and instead turned his attention to the fingermarks on his neck.
"They were hurt and I… I shouldn't have hit you." But damn did it feel good.
Fletcher rubbed his throat.
"I'm sorry that I made you…" Thalia tried to find her reflection in the dark metal of the blade. She didn't look happy. Whether anger or embarrassment, she didn't know. "I'm sorry, okay?"
She didn't mean to let her voice shake at the last part.
Fletcher laughed, a soft and melodic sound.
Thalia's face burned.
I am going to kick your ass.
"Sorry, not you," he was looking at his own dagger, the weapon that Eris had defiled with her divine blood. "Just thought it was funny."
He turned the blade so she could see what was engraved in gleaming gold: Misery.
Perhaps the goddess hated him more than she loved.
"Misery loves company, huh?" he chuckled before sheathing the blade. He shook his head and grinned. "We're square, Thalia."
She didn't return the smile.
Fletcher's expression went back to neutral. He is unreadable again. Thalia thinks he has the best poker face she has ever seen save for Eris.
"You asked Mnemosyne for help finding someone."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Jason Grace. Your brother, I presume?"
Her right hand formed a fist.
"Doesn't matter," Fletcher said when he saw her tense. "He's your family. That's what Eris is using against you."
Thalia hated that he put the pieces together so easily.
"She's going to use mine to get to me," he said slowly. "She put a leash around my neck. My brothers, my sisters, they'll be the ones she hurts, not me. We need to work together, Thalia."
Don't tell me what to do.
"Yeah?" She couldn't help but sneer. "Well, I don't give a flying fuck about your family, Fletcher. I don't need to do anything with you."
"Look," he took a small step forward, hand on his chest. "Whatever you need help with, I'll have your back. Anything she makes you do; I'll be there too. If you walk into hell, I will as well. Help me keep my family safe and I'll burn for yours."
Thalia gave Fletcher a long look and she saw it. She sees the image he projects. A reliable friend that's there for you when you need them. But she also sees who he truly is, what he really believes. The son of Apollo viewed his own life as a tool to protect others. He wasn't suicidal in the normal sense. Fletcher had no reason to live, but he had every excuse to die for someone else. He would end his life for his family, and he would sacrifice it for Thalia's too. And she is certain that he would do it with a smile on his face.
A minute passed.
Drops of water leaked from the faucet like a metronome.
"Okay, Fletcher," Thalia extended her hand. "You've got yourself a deal."
She will make use of the life that he was trying so hard to throw away.
The devil has their sights on them. If he was willing to plummet into hell with her, then who is she to refuse? Her soul will burn and so will his. As long as she gets what she wants… it would be worth it.
Thalia was selfish like that.
His hand was surprisingly soft, but his handshake is firm, resolute.
"Thank you," he smiled softly. "We're in this together."
"Right," Thalia said. Quit smiling. I'm using you.
She was going to use him, and he was thanking her for it.
It was laughable.
Monster. Killer. Demon.
No wonder Eris took such a shine to her.
"C'mon, Fletcher," Thalia strangled the shame building up within her. "We've got five hours to kill."
"At least they speak English," Lee tried to calm her down.
"Fletcher, they're British," Thalia glared. "I don't want them talking to me at all! If I hear one more person call me a 'schewpid American twat', I'm going to feed them their rotten teeth!"
"Okay, fair point."
In the twenty minutes that they had been outside of the hotel, they had discovered that they were unfortunately in the U.K., Thalia had been hit on by three separate people and had proceeded to give each one a kick between the legs, and they had almost gotten shanked by a wannabe thug who Thalia also took care of.
Lee noticed that Thalia seemed to always aim below the belt with her kicks.
It could have been worse.
People could've noticed that that both demigods essentially wore only bandages from the waist up. Of which, Lee's was barely hanging on with a wide cut across his chest that had barely healed. But they didn't, courtesy of Thalia.
"Who taught you to control the Mist?" Lee asked. He was impressed when the daughter of Zeus snapped her fingers and shrouded them in a minor illusion.
"Chiron."
"He's never shown any of the other counselors to do it."
"Well, you never had a prophecy looming over your head."
He shivered, partially from the cold night air and partially from thinking about the decaying oracle.
"I didn't before, but now I do."
He had the Fates themselves watching over him.
Thalia frowned, "Percy was surprised when I told him that you guys were gone for months."
So was Lee, that was certainly news to him, "Explain."
"We freed Artemis," she scowled at the goddess' name. "And I saw Apollo at the solstice. But you guys weren't there. So where in Hades were you?"
"The Labyrinth."
"Doing what?"
"Fixing another one of my father's messes," Lee sighed. "One of his arrows was taken by the Titans. Imagine a sun exploding, that's the level of destruction we're talking about."
"How did you waste months and still not find it?" Thalia snarled.
"We didn't!" he snapped. "Nobody knows how the Maze works! We just know that you can use it to get from one place to another!"
The daughter of Zeus took a step back.
Green light emanated from his eye again.
Something was wrong with him. Lee was having trouble keeping his emotions in check. He didn't know if it was just arguing with Thalia that made him want to lash out, but it made him nauseous.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"Whatever, Fletcher," Thalia huffed. "Forget about it, maybe time works differently down there or something."
He frowned. "That actually makes a decent amount of sense."
Did Thalia actually use her head for critical thinking?
"Good, you can shut up about it and keep brooding. Just stay quiet if you're going to blow up at everything that I say."
"You're not easy to talk to, you know that?"
"Sounds like you can't take a hint, Fletcher, reminds me of a dumbass obsessed with the color blue."
"Are you sure that you and Percy are actually friends?"
"I wonder about that sometimes."
Everyone always compared the two demigods to each other, but Lee couldn't see it. They were like night and day to him. Percy had a natural charismatic personality that unintentionally drew people to him. Thalia covered herself in thorns and lashed out at anything that remotely pissed her off. Percy could talk circles around people sometimes and was smarter than he let on. Thalia was a battering ram, breaking anything that got in her way. Percy was selfless and loyal. Thalia wasn't.
He didn't know if Thalia could be relied on for anything other than a fight.
And he most certainly didn't believe that Thalia knew where she was going.
They must've walked at least a mile away from the hotel and not once did she ask for directions. Instead, just threatening to inflict bodily harm upon the general populace around them if they so much as looked at her.
"Is there something in particular that you're looking for?"
"Bookstore," Thalia muttered. "Would've gone to a library but I'm not too keen on visiting one another anytime soon."
"Why?"
"I like books, Fletcher."
"You read?" Lee frowned.
She glared at him.
"Let me rephrase," he tried again. "You like reading?"
"Yeah," her eyes softened somewhat. "You?"
"I try to. It's… frustrating sometimes."
Most demigods read as little as possible.
"I get it," Thalia said. "Not easy learning how to."
"No," Lee agreed. "But that's what school is for."
"Never got to go." She kept walking, turning her head to read the names of the shops. She's a bit faster at it than he is, the slurring letters don't trip her up as easily.
"We're you homeschooled?"
"No."
"Who taught you then?"
"I did, Fletcher. I taught myself."
He stared at the back of her head as she continued walking.
He didn't know what to say.
He noticed that she always makes a fist when she gets angry, always with her right hand.
Just like she was doing right now.
"She didn't want me to be seen in public," Thalia whispered. "And she didn't want to waste her time on an 'ugly, stupid, little girl.' Said I was too fucking dumb to learn my letters."
Lee frowned, "You proved her wrong."
"I did and she broke my arm. Told me to try opening a book like that."
"I'm sorry that happened to you."
She glared at him, before looking away.
Lee thought it was a miracle Thalia didn't turn out worse. She had a big chip on her shoulder and a scar over her heart. It was why she butted heads with Percy so much, why her first instinct was to deck Lee across the face. She was so used to being demeaned and abused that she was always ready for a fight. And when she was demure, when she was truly scared, she barely moved or spoke. She hasn't had a chance to be vulnerable. She wrapped herself in thorns to protect her heart. Thalia shuts down when she couldn't fight her way out of something.
Lee had set her off the moment he shoved her.
She saw a fight and lashed out.
He pricked himself on her thorns.
"Sorry about your eye, Fletcher," Thalia murmured after a while. "Wasn't fast enough."
"You saved my life," he said. "You're the reason I didn't get a lobotomy."
She frowned at the last word, "What does that mean?"
"Uh," he rubbed the back of his neck. Gods, how did he explain it without medical terms? "It's a surgery where you cut parts of the brain. No doctor would do one today. Or at least they shouldn't."
She hummed, trying to spell out the word by tracing the letters in the palm of her hand.
Lee watches as she absentmindedly repeated the action while walking, her lips moved silently. He can tell that she's mouthing the word over and over.
"Why do you like reading, Thalia?"
Her blue eyes fixed themselves on him, carefully studying his intentions. She's wary. Not fully trusting him. But she takes the risk. "A book never beat the shit out of me. The pages never screamed at me. I just like reading, okay? I like learning new words. It makes me feel…" She didn't finish the sentence.
But he has already figured it out.
'An ugly, stupid, little girl.'
'Too fucking dumb to learn my letters.'
'I did, Fletcher. I taught myself.'
Lee was willing to bet that Thalia has never once received praise from her mother, not a single ounce of love. The daughter of Zeus is desperately seeking validation, trying to prove that she is more than what her mother believed her to be. Reading was probably one of the few escapes she had from the abuse.
Thalia grew prickly during his ruminations.
"What?" she growled. "Got something clever to say, Fletcher?"
"No."
"Listen here, you piece of—"
"Reading makes you feel safe," he said quietly. He tried not to prick himself on her thorns.
She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes grew stormy, darkening like thunderheads.
"Nothing is wrong with that, Thalia."
"Don't you dare pity me, Fletcher."
"I don't."
"Quit looking down on me."
"Thalia," Lee said, meeting her burning glare. "Nobody would think less of you."
The daughter of Zeus balled her right hand into a fist.
"You're strong," he braced himself for the punch. "You don't need to prove yourself to me or anyone else. If anything, you're better than I am."
Surprise flitted across her face.
"You're a better fighter than me," Lee said. "You're faster, you're stronger, maybe not smarter, but it seems like you're a better reader too." He watched her eye twitch. "But you can control your powers. You can control yourself. I can't."
Her expression softened.
"You didn't deserve whatever your mother did to you. You don't need to pretend like it doesn't bother you. You can rely on me if you want. Remember, we're in this together. That's the deal we made. If you need something, just ask and I'll do my best to make it happen."
The anger faded completely, her muscles relaxed, and the fist undid itself.
Thalia does something that truly catches Lee off guard.
The daughter of Zeus smiled.
"You're not so bad, Fletcher."
She's minefield, Lee realized. Thalia is completely harmless, so long as you know where to step around her. She's a bundle of insecurities and unresolved trauma. Thalia is touch starved. She craves adoration and affirmation. He had to know exactly where to step, what to say, what to do in order to work with her. Otherwise, he would trip that minefield.
Thalia was slowly opening up to him.
Now if only she could stop calling him Fletcher.
They might get along if she did so.
Eris started out as kind of a gag character that Hermes would mention every now and then as sort of a boogeyman/comedic bit for why things went wrong with his delivery service or used as a threat against other characters. At first she was similar to Kymopoleia who is vain and narcissistic with homicidal tendencies but is more of a lighthearted psychopath to bounce off of Percy. Eris instead became someone who challenged the six emotionally and psychologically. She became an extremely manipulative character that can only get worse, can only do more despicable things, and will do it from a place of obsessive love.