Summary: Perseus, first-born child of Poseidon and Amphitrite, God of the Stars and Constellations, of Navigation and of the Astral Plane. Patron of Heroes and Consort to the Goddess Artemis. Sitting upon the ruling council of the Gods for thousands of years – and now facing the end of Olympus.
Chapter Five
Interlude Part One: Atlanta
The clamor of New York City was nearly a physical thing. The sounds of traffic and people, sirens and horns and the crush of modern civilization was like a sty to Atlanta. She'd always hated the modern cities, ever since the industrial age began and machines became the new way of life. For a girl like her that spent her early childhood surrounded by exquisite craftsmanship and natural beauty, a city like New York was offensive in the extreme. She loathed it.
For more than two millennia Atlanta had spent her days traveling across some of the most breathtaking and untouched landscapes. She'd seen the fjords of Norway under the light of the full moon, the White Mountains surrounded by a blanket of stars. She'd traveled the most untamed wilderness on foot, hunting every animal and witnessing the true beauty of nature before most humans even thought to look for it.
Alongside her sisters Atlanta had lived and breathed the wild in ways modern humans couldn't even begin to understand. She'd seen her father's realm from the highest peaks before light pollution even existed, had witnessed the original Olympic Games and saw the ancient temples to the Gods in their prime, when mortals still believed in something larger than themselves and aspired to be greater than their meager beginnings.
As she glanced around at the litter-filled streets of New York City, she felt that in some ways everything she knew was coming to an end. She hated it more than anything. The wild places were getting smaller and smaller every year, and the animals that once roamed the lands in abundance were dwindling to extinction. These people took and took and never left anything behind but waste and destruction.
To be certain, she hated the people of this modern age as much as the cities themselves.
In the furthest, most secret spaces of her thoughts, Atlanta wished that the Gods would end this experiment of free will and remove the Mist entirely. Show themselves for what they truly were and make the mortals bend the knee like they had in the old days. Erase their sense of superiority and make them just stop. They were heathens and heretics, a Godless group of savages that pretended enlightenment and civility.
She already missed the Hunt, and she'd barely left her sisters an hour before. She missed the weight of her mistress' hunting horn at her left side, which she'd surrendered to Zoë painfully for the first time in more than twenty centuries. It was a relic of a time long gone, but which still saw regular use and was sacred to the Hunt. It was to stay with them always, and she would only reclaim it if she rejoined them.
She turned to observe her companions, and tried not to be bitter that they weren't her sisters. They hadn't actually asked for her help, Lady Artemis had ordered it. It wasn't their fault she would miss the moonlit hunts and camaraderie she had become accustomed to for so very long. They hadn't even been alive long enough to understand how deeply rooted a chosen lifestyle could become. The Hunt was a part of her in the same way her own soul was.
Atlanta was the third oldest of the handmaidens, behind only Zoë (who barely counted as she was older than the Gods themselves) and Phoebe. Some of her sisters were old and some still new to the hunt, having only joined within the last few centuries. To be on this quest alongside actual children was something she'd never thought to experience. She had already decided she would look after them as best she could. They didn't know what they'd agreed to, not really.
"Forgive me if this seems presumptuous," said Atlanta. "But we should leave the city as quickly as we can, heading west. There's a lot more danger to us here than in more open territory. Surrounded by so many mortals, the Mist is extremely thick. An enemy could sneak up on us and the Mist would likely hide them until they were on top of us."
"You think they'd attack us out in the open like this?" asked the boy, and Atlanta nodded immediately.
"Absolutely. The Mist hides their true appearance and motives from the mortals, while we're more exposed. And they don't care if they end up on the news, which for us it would only draw attention. If we draw weapons here, in this crowded place, it's likely to cause issues with the mortals even if the Mist doesn't show the true nature of them. My bow could perhaps look like a firearm to them, which would be even worse. Out in the open, away from the city, the Mist is thinner and we can see them coming more easily."
Atlanta could, at the very least. She didn't know the skill level of the other two, or if they'd even killed before – monster or otherwise. Honestly she wished she'd been named leader of the quest, it would suit her more than the daughter of Ares who, while probably skilled, was still very young and inexperienced.
"I agree," Clarisse said. "We need to get moving, and staying in the city doesn't make much sense. We don't have enough money for plane tickets or I'd just say we could fly straight to Vegas. We should probably grab a bus and get ourselves as far as we can."
Atlanta nodded. "That'll work in the short term, though we'll need to be careful later. A bus is a bad place to be ambushed, especially if we're driving seventy miles an hour down the interstate. If we have to fight and cause an accident, we might be killed in the wreck. My advice would be just this – a bus to get out of New York state, and then find alternate means of travel from there."
Beckendorf groaned quietly. "I hadn't even thought of that, and it'll be worse on the return trip with five of us."
"Indeed," Atlanta agreed.
Plans made for the immediate future, the group set off to the nearest Greyhound terminal. The cab fare took a small bite out of their limited funds Chiron had given them, and the bus tickets would even more so. They weren't terribly far from the terminal, however upon arriving they were stuck with the choice of how far to trust that means of travel.
They decided on a location on the far side of Pittsburgh.
It would be an eight hour bus ride, with a few stops along the way. That would put their arrival time well into the night, and would mean they had to find sleeping arrangements as well. Atlanta spent her time waiting for their bus to depart by thinking of ways she could get the other two to follow her lead. So far it hadn't been an issue, but it was unlikely that they would continue being so agreeable when she suggested sleeping outdoors in the wilderness.
She could ensure their survival with rudimentary shelter and a smokeless campfire for warmth. She could also procure game for them, if they weren't opposed to eating it, and could hear an enemy approaching much better without the constant roar of civilization deafening her. The wild was where she made her home, and even with two novices she could make the most of it if they would agree.
She already had a plan for further transportation, though it would depend on the boy's skills.
They boarded their bus without issue, and the journey west truly began. They took seats at the back of the bus, near the emergency exit in case it was needed, and where they didn't have anyone behind them. Once seated, Atlanta made sure her weapons were within easy reach, and advised the others to do the same. They settled in for what was probably going to be an extremely long and boring ride.
"So I get that you girls aren't very friendly with boys and all, but would it be alright if I asked what it was like? Serving her?" the boy asked, though he looked as if he thought she would refuse.
"It's...complicated," Atlanta finally answered, glancing around. She appreciated the fact that he hadn't mentioned anything specific about the divine world in public. Names were powerful things, and while Camp Half-Blood was protected, speaking the wrong name elsewhere could have consequences. "It is a level of devotion that is hard to describe. We take our vows very seriously, and it can be off-putting to a lot of people."
"Your lieutenant, she didn't seem very friendly," said Clarisse.
Atlanta smiled at her. "Zoë is complicated as well," she said in response. "She's more than my lieutenant, she's my sister and my friend. We've been companions for a very, very long time, and you have to understand the circumstances of our situation. Some of our sisters...they were harmed in the most terrible ways, exclusively by men. While the original purpose of our sisterhood was based on swearing off romantic notions of boys in general, it never used to breed such dislike or hatred. After so many of our number have been harmed, however, the sentiment has taken root."
"I get that, I guess," said the boy.
He didn't, even if he thought he did. If he had seen the state they found Camille in, perhaps he would understand better, but probably not. That level of brutality was not normally visited on boys above a certain age, and they didn't fear it in the same way. The terrifying thought of it was one thing, even for girls, but the reality and the aftermath was even more horrifying to witness. Lady Artemis had served vengeance that night, vicious and brutal and all of it deserved.
Despite some of them lacking true 'maidenhood' in the physical sense, so long as they never gave it away willingly she still considered herself their patron. No love for boys or men would ever be found within the Hunt.
There were exceptions, of course, though they were divine in origin. Perseus was trusted above all, as was Apollo. Neither of them would ever lay a hand on the handmaidens of Artemis, and Apollo was especially protective of his sister. Perseus, should he ever hear of a man trying to look at the hunters in a way that could be even slightly considered inappropriate...the outcome would not be pleasant, she knew.
Perseus had raised Artemis from the day of her birth as well, so he was ever a loyal protector of her and her handmaidens.
At the thought of her father, Atlanta slipped her hand into her pocket to grasp the whistle he'd given her. He was such an idiot sometimes, like a typical male, but she loved him still. He always wanted to swaddle her and protect her as if she were made of glass. He thought there should never be a reason that was worth her risking her life or even her safety. If he had his way, she knew, she would be a priestess locked in a temple and surrounded by a Praetorian Guard day and night.
Perseus was too hard on himself, she thought. He was always apologizing and holding himself accountable for things that were mostly beyond his control, and he never saw himself in a clear light. Lady Artemis said it was something he'd only begun to do after he lived a mortal life. Something about that time had changed him irrevocably, and made him attach himself to the mortal world more closely than the other Gods.
Lady Artemis also said that many of the Olympians saw it as a failing of his, that he'd made a mistake by trying to be something he wasn't. It only made Atlanta love him more. He may be an idiot and a fool at times, but that change – whatever it was – had made him a better father, she was certain. He didn't hold himself aloof from his mortal children, didn't see them as less than he was. So far as she could remember he had just been 'father', not an all-powerful deity that could wreck continents if he decided to.
Atlanta never had to worry about consequences for upsetting him, like some of the other Gods. They were known to punish their own children harshly for even the smallest insult. The fact that Perseus had nearly demanded she bring dishonor to his name in order to save herself...she couldn't think of a single God who would do the same. Most of them would rather their children die than embarrass them.
Her hand clenched around the whistle firmly, and she shook her head at her own thoughts. Perseus gave her what he considered a small gift, and it was an entire constellation of stars with a protective spirit slumbering within. Leo was the spirit of a lion her father had hunted alongside Artemis when the Goddess was very young, her first, and he had immortalized it in the stars. It had been a guardian spirit ever since, one of the very strongest.
He just...gave it to her.
Sometimes it seemed like he was trying to make up for something, though she didn't know what. He had been an excellent father. Perseus had loved her mother until her death, and had taught her three brothers to be virtuous and worthy men in their mortal lifetimes. He had watched over her from a distance as she left the nest to join her sisterhood, never intrusive and never questioning her choice, and yet he was always there in the peripheral, should she need him. Atlanta couldn't ask for better – she was positive it didn't exist.
Perseus wasn't perfect, she knew. He was a God, and therefore he'd done things in the past that would likely horrify most mortals, though she was born in a time where such things were more common. Entire peoples had been lain to waste at the end of his sword. He'd torn down asteroids from the Astral Plane and erased cities in the blink of an eye, back in the old times.
History stated that the city of Corinth – where Atlanta was born – was first destroyed by Romans, but she knew the truth. Her father, though he had moved to Rome by then and was worshiped under a different name, had learned that the sacred grave of her mother was desecrated by the Macedonian soldiers who'd occupied it around 200 B.C. Perseus traveled there, in the night, and butchered everyone. The people who tried to repopulate the city were the ones destroyed by Rome just over fifty years later.
The city was cursed now, she was sure, as it had been destroyed so many times since then that it wasn't even close to the same place. In the mid eighteen-hundreds it was destroyed fully by an earthquake, and then again in 1933 by fire. Each time it was rebuilt it would fall to ruin within a few centuries or less. Her father's wrath could be relentless if provoked, and as nice and gentle as he was with the children of the demigod camp, he could be just as vicious should it suit him.
"I hope these two brats are worth all this extra trouble," Clarisse complained, and the sudden conversation startled Atlanta a little. She admonished herself for losing focus around such unfamiliar people. "All the rest of us had to make our own way to camp, with only a satyr for a guide. Some kids never make it at all."
"True, true," said the boy.
Atlanta had a bit of a broader perspective, however. "It's not about the kids, not really," she informed them. "It's a lot bigger than that. While I don't know specifics, my mistress said that there were some...politics at play regarding them. The kids, as far as I know, don't even know what they are and have been stuck in the trap for a very long time."
"I know it isn't their fault," the younger girl grumbled. "That's the problem, it's never the kids' fault and we have to deal with it anyway. And who their parent is seems to get them special treatment, even if they didn't ask for it. Even the new girl had to fight her way to camp, and she's...his daughter."
"I've been around for a very long time," said Atlanta. "One thing I've learned is that whatever you think is going on behind the scenes, it's probably much more complex than that. This entire situation could very well be the culmination of centuries worth of politics. It might not have anything to do with these two at all. Might not even have much to do with their father. I know my father is involved in it somehow, though I couldn't say how."
"How is that, anyway?" asked the boy. "How's it being a kid of his? I've never met any others."
"It's similar in a lot of ways to the rest, I guess," she answered. "I get some access to his realm, and get to see him very rarely. As for my siblings, there haven't been any for a while. My father doesn't take mortals as companions very often, and when he does it's usually because he's decided to actually be with them for a longer period of time. It's not uncommon for him to have multiple children by the same woman, should he find himself involved with a mortal."
Clarisse snorted. "My dad has twenty-two kids in our Cabin between the ages of eleven and sixteen, and none of them share a mother. Who knows how many are still out there that are young enough to still be hidden by the Mist."
Atlanta grimaced at the thought. Ares was a stereotypical Greek God who slept with dozens of mortals, sometimes in the same year, along with dating his half-brother's wife right in front of his face and daring him to do something about it. He was, in essence, everything the Hunt despised in men, though she wouldn't disparage him openly. She had been raised on some very strict tenets, one of which was that the Gods – all of them – were to be respected. To speak ill of them was to invite misfortune and tragedy, and she would not dare. The word 'merciful' had never to her knowledge been used to describe Ares.
The conversation trailed off after that, and eventually the younger two fell asleep, only proving their inexperience in her mind, though they couldn't be faulted for it. They were children, barely more than a decade old – practically infants when compared to everything else in the divine world they were born into.
Atlanta remained alert. There were a few dozen people on the bus that she didn't know and she refused to lower her guard. For all she knew the bus driver was a monster in disguise – though she doubted it – and some of them were extremely good at blending in even without the Mist.
They arrived at the terminal on the west side of Pittsburgh which was located conveniently in a truck stop, and were able to grab some cheap snacks for the younger two. Atlanta had some dried jerky in her pack made from venison. She wasn't interested in the junk-food on offer at the mortal store. It always tasted manufactured and vaguely plastic to her, and she preferred her own.
It was the middle of the night, nearly the early morning really, but the other two had slept most of the journey and so they weren't really tired. Atlanta was a little, but the light of the stars overhead energized her and the moonlight on her face soothed her weariness. She decided they should probably work on their next issue immediately.
"Would you mind if I make a suggestion for our next step?" she asked Clarisse politely. It was after all her quest technically, and she though it best to at least consult the girl.
They'd found a picnic area littered with garbage just outside the truck stop, and were having what the younger two generously called dinner – the boy some type of hot-dog and potato chips, while the girl ate nachos with processed cheese from a dispenser. It was slightly revolting, and Atlanta had only eaten a little of the jerky in her pack before putting it away. Should they get really hungry she had a thermos of nectar and a small bag of ambrosia cooked into bread squares that would see them through in emergencies.
Clarisse ran her fingers through her hair, frowning slightly. "I guess," she said. "I know I'm supposed to be leading the quest and all, but they didn't tell me much and I don't really know what the next step should be."
It seemed like it wounded her pride to admit it, but she was only thirteen. Atlanta would have been more surprised if she did have it all figured out. Instead of patronizing the girl, she just nodded.
"My idea would depend on the level of skill Charles shows within his father's domain." she said, and saw the boy wince.
"Look, I don't want to be rude or anything, but please call me Beckendorf. Only Perseus and Chiron call me by my first name. Them and Silena, sometimes." he said. "As for dad's realm, that depends on what you need."
Atlanta nodded in acknowledgment. She could abide by his preferred title to keep them working together, as they would need to for quite some time. "We need transportation west, this we all know. However busses, planes and trains are out for obvious reasons. That leaves us with some type of automobile. While we hunters travel the country on foot, it's only possible due to the Blessing of the Moon, which the two of you are without."
"You want to know if I can steal a car?" he asked, frowning.
"No," she responded, shaking her head. "A stolen car would be reported quickly, and with technology today we'd be found on a traffic camera somewhere. My idea was to find a nearby scrap yard and see if there's one that could be fixed relatively easily with your talents. Even if it took a full day, it would be much faster than walking and someone is a lot less likely to report it if they never notice it missing."
Beckendorf was nodding. "That, I could do," he said. "Dad's gift…it's hard to explain, but we just know things. About machines, weapons, pretty much anything people turn a wrench on or strike a hammer to."
"And while he's doing that, what would we do?" Clarisse asked, though she looked like she wasn't opposed to the idea.
"One of us could assist him, while the other keeps a lookout. We can alternate these jobs however you prefer, I don't mind either way. We could also take the opportunity to try and search for some supplies we may need once we retrieve the two children."
"If we find the right vehicle, it could solve our issues with a place to sleep, too," said Beckendorf. "If we can find a large van of some type, which we'll probably need anyway with the other two kids, we could take turns sleeping in the back while me or you drive, if you know how?"
Atlanta nodded. This could work, and would solve both their need for shelter and transportation. It also stopped her from having to suggest they sleep in the wild, which they were unlikely to agree to in the first place. The only problem would be paying for fuel with their limited resources. They'd have to solve that issue later, however. Transportation first.
It was the first rule of survival – find the most pressing and immediate problem, and solve it. Then the next, and the next, and the next. Never stop working and solving problems and in the end you would be a thousand times more likely to survive.
"How do we find a scrap yard? We can't use a phone or technology and risk signaling our position to monsters." said Clarisse.
"Leave that to me," said Atlanta, her gaze locked onto the stars above. A pathway illuminated itself for her, due south, and she knew there was one roughly seven miles in that direction, on the outskirts of the city. Her father's navigation had always served her most out of all of his other domains. She was never truly lost, and especially not beneath the light of the stars themselves. "It will be a bit of a walk, but we could be there in a few hours time if we move quickly."
They agreed, and Atlanta winced as she watched them ball up their trash and toss it onto the already overflowing garbage can. Despite the tightness in her chest, she led them away and due south as she promised, and said nothing. There was no way to teach them in the limited time they had, and she wouldn't waste hers.
They were being followed.
Atlanta noticed it soon after they left the more populated area and began to skirt around the west side of Pittsburgh. She didn't know by whom or by what, but something was tailing them. She first noticed it when they stopped for a short break and she heard footsteps continue for a split second after they were no longer moving. She'd tested it a few times, stopping randomly, and it seemed like it was more than one, or it had more legs than they did.
It wasn't mortal – no normal human could hide from her beneath the light of the moon and stars – but that didn't specify whether it was friend or foe. While the latter was more likely, it never hurt to be cautious. Attacking an immortal was foolishness of the highest order, especially if it just turned out to be a curious minor God – the term 'minor' being something of a misnomer. A minor God could still incinerate them should they be challenged.
She turned to her companions and tried to catch movement in the darkness out of her peripheral, but she saw nothing. "Help me adjust this strap, would you?" she asked Clarisse, motioning to her pack. The girl frowned at her, but approached anyway. Once she was close enough, Atlanta whispered "Weapons ready." Clarisse flicked her eyes side to side, and nodded imperceptibly. Good girl. Now she just had to figure out how to alert the boy as well. He wouldn't be familiar with a hunter's signal.
She sat the pack on the ground, taking stock of her surroundings, and pretended to dig for her water bottle. They were in a relatively open area, aside from the trees to their right. To the left it was open for around four hundred yards, and ended in an abandoned industrial building of some type. The grassy area they walked through was firm, with knee high grass and weeds, and nothing to trip over besides the weeds themselves. It was as good a place to fight as any.
While she would be more comfortable in the cover the trees provided, that must have been where their stalker was hiding and entering or getting any closer was foolish. An ambush could kill one of them too quickly to react.
She was closing her pack and just about to motion the boy over when he tossed his own pack down and wandered toward the trees. "Nature calls," he said.
She whipped her head around, alarmed to see him already less than ten paces from the tree line. Too close. "Wait!" she called, but it was too late. Clarisse moved just as something large lunged from the treeline faster than a bow-shot. The younger girl's shield sprang from a ring on her finger in the blink of an eye, a simple bronze aspis shield favored by Spartan hoplites. She got it in front of the boy, who had frozen, and there was a ring of something hard striking metal.
Both Beckendorf and Clarisse were thrown backwards, stunned but unharmed thanks to the girls quick reflexes. She had moved to cover him before the attack happened, meaning she likely inherited a large amount of battle sense from her father, which Atlanta noted but filed away as unimportant for the moment.
The creature, however, was decidedly not unimportant.
It was humanoid in appearance, though far far larger than any person. From the neck down it had tough, dark colored scales and claws around six inches long on it's hands. It crawled on all fours, it's limbs oddly jointed and nearly drug it's stomach on the ground, long dark hair framing it's vicious human-like face. The jaws, which were salivating, were opened way too far, almost back to the ears, and rows of shark-like teeth lined it's mouth top and bottom. Though it crawled on all fours, were it to stand up it would be roughly fifteen feet tall, and the face was as pale as a cadaver.
It looked like a cross between a lizard, a human corpse, and a giant.
She recognized it immediately and had her bow drawn and an arrow nocked in the next instant. She let the shot fly quickly as the beast leapt forward toward the downed pair. The arrow glanced off a scaly hide, but it distracted it just enough for Clarisse to gain her feet and draw a spear from somewhere – likely a magical item that was hidden as something else similar to her ring/shield.
"Back away!" Atlanta shouted at her companions, her bow lining up another shot – this time more carefully aimed at the head. The creature dodged it, but drug itself lower to the ground and started circling slowly to their left, a terrifying hiss escaping its jaws.
"What the hell is this thing?" asked Clarisse. The boy had finally gained his feet as well and drew a short sword from somewhere.
"Lamia, Devourer of Children," Atlanta said, and she felt a thrill of terror at the name. This was a creature that had an actual chance of killing them all. It wasn't just a hellhound or cyclops, which were dangerous enough on their own, this was a monster straight out of a nightmare.
"Shit," Clarisse summarized, quite accurately.
All demigods had heard of Lamia, or should have. She was the reason they were hunted so successfully by monsters in the first place. She had once been a demigod daughter of Hecate, but had fallen for Zeus' charms and allowed him to seduce her. This enraged Hera, who then proceeded to kill Lamia's two children and turn her into a monster. In an act of vengeance, Lamia used her last moments before she was transformed to curse half-bloods to have a scent that monsters could detect. She wished for the children of the Gods to be killed as her own sons were.
Since that day half-bloods were hunted endlessly, and almost never made it to adulthood. It was because of her that the standard mortal soldiers of Olympus were children – her curse made it so that they could always be found and never really hide, and they rarely got a chance to grow as old as they once had.
The creature hissed again, and made a false charge toward Clarisse, before aborting and circling slowly in the opposite direction. It was being cautious.
"How was this thing killed in the old days?" asked Beckendorf. His voice was shaken, though he stood firm with his sword in a low guard position. "Maybe we can use something similar now."
Atlanta shook her head and let another arrow fly just as Lamia was getting ready to lunge forward. The arrow caused it to leap back instead and avoid damage to it's face. "It wasn't," she answered. "So far as I know, no hero ever killed Lamia, or even survived an attack from it. It's wickedly fast, strong and has proven to be very smart. My mistress once hunted it, and it evaded her for months, always able to sense the divine energy before she could close in for the kill."
"Double shit," Clarisse said, once more quite accurately. "The face and head look like the softest-"
She was cut off as the creature shrieked and leapt into the air toward Beckendorf again, singling him out as the seemingly weakest fighter among them, which Atlanta thought was probably accurate despite his age advantage over Clarisse. She was born for battle and warfare, and would likely stomp the boy into a puddle in a fight, the hunter thought.
Realizing that her arrows had proved ineffective, Atlanta swung her bow onto her back at the same moment she began moving, darting toward the boy in an attempt to intercept the beast. Her hunting knives were drawn quickly, one in a forward grip and the other in reverse. Lamia beat her there by a fraction of a second and swung at the ground in front of Beckendorf, creating a spray of soil and weeds to blind him. The beast darted it's head through the curtain of dirt just as Atlanta arrived and swung her left blade.
It scored a thin gash just beneath Lamia's right eye, and the creature howled it's fury. Quicker than she could react it reared onto it's legs, suddenly looking like a thin and awkward giant, and the right leg lashed out into her abdomen. She hadn't expected the movement and didn't even get a guard up, it moved too fast.
She nearly blacked out from the sheer agony as she was launched backwards to roll through the weeds. That hurt unlike anything she'd felt in a very long time, and her body betrayed her as it tried to gasp for air involuntarily over and over. She was winded by the direct hit, and couldn't seem to fill her lungs. After a panicked few seconds, she finally succeeded and her lungs rushed full of fresh air. She nearly threw up immediately. The foot had been large enough to cover the entire area from her waist to the top of her chest, and she felt like she'd just got hit by a truck. She couldn't breathe.
Atlanta had no idea how the other two were faring in the brief moments she was out of commission. Slowly, she gathered her own senses and forced herself to look up. Beckendorf was on the ground, holding his leg and it was covered in blood, while Clarisse stood in front of him with shield and spear, though her shirt was torn. The length of the spear was keeping Lamia at bay for the moment, though it wouldn't last.
She had to move, now, or this would be the shortest quest in history. Grunting in exertion, Atlanta forced herself to her feet and rejoined the fight at a full sprint. The younger girl was doing admirably, but she needed help and the boy could no longer stand. She announced her entry by leaping into a dive right over Clarisse's head as the monster lunged again, and her hunting knife tore another wound across the beast's forehead. Before it could pull back she crouched beneath the swinging, scaled arm and cut another across it's cheek as payback for the most devastating kick she'd ever received.
Clarisse's spear lashed out, but glanced off a scaled shoulder as Lamia retreated once again, though not far. This wasn't working. They weren't going to overpower it with just the two of them, and the boy was useless at the moment. It was too fast and way too strong. They needed to outsmart it. The one thing it was known for was killing the children of the Gods. It was an opportunity it couldn't pass up if presented, and was the only thing she could think of as a possible weakness.
"How accurate is your thrust?" Atlanta asked, and she couldn't stop her body from doubling over slightly in agony when her abdomen screamed in protest of her movements.
Clarisse was panting, though she was in the best shape out of them all. Beckendorf was behind them trying to tie his shirt around his thigh to slow the bleeding of two thick gashes from a clawed hand.
"Two inch circle, 9 out of 10 times," she responded. "Not that it's counted for much so far."
"Aim for the right eye. It's hair keeps falling in front of it and limiting the field of view. I'm going to create an opening, and you're either going to become a hero of legend or I'm about to die," Atlanta remarked. "Stay over my left shoulder, shield to my back as I engage. Remember, thrust for the right eye – that's your left – at the very first opening, or I'm dead."
For a moment, Atlanta thought of using the whistle her father gave her instead of her admittedly risky plan, but thought better of it. If she did so Lamia would likely just retreat, and they'd have to worry about an ambush at a later time. It had been known to flee from divine energy, which Leo most certainly was.
Lady Artemis could have slain this beast in moments, had she caught up to it.
Allowing herself a moment to take a deep breath, she sent a silent prayer to her mistress for a successful hunt, and then she engaged. Kicking off the dirt into a sprint, she refused to allow the beast to attack at it's own discretion. She rushed it, bending backwards to duck beneath it's opening strike and using her own flexibility along with her screaming abdominal muscles to slingshot herself forward again into an upright position. The Blessing of the Moon had rarely been so useful, as the speed and agility it granted her kept her alive.
A nimble jump forward had her in reach of Lamia, and she hoped Clarisse was getting in position. It would happen soon, one way or the other. If this was to be her end she would face it head on, like a true Greek, though she prayed the younger girl was up to the task. She just wished the boy had been more prepared for an opponent of this caliber. Atlanta knew that working together, she and her sisters would have danced around the beast. As it was, she was the only one of the three fast enough to engage directly and stay alive. Clarisse had the most effective weapon, so it would come down to them.
Her right blade deflected a clawed strike, barely, and as it pushed her backwards she felt a cold shield bump her from behind. It was now or never. Darting forward into Lamia's guard, much closer to the mouth full of razor sharp teeth than she would have preferred, she began executing the same move she had used earlier. The beast was smart, her movements were obvious, and so she hoped it would catch on and take the bait.
It did.
Atlanta's left blade cut a line high on the beast's brow, and then she ducked the returning strike like she had before, bringing her right blade to bear. The creatures eyes gleamed at the obvious repeated movement and instead of allowing her to cut into it's cheek as she had previously, it lunged it's open jaws forward. Her blades out of position and unable to defend, Atlanta placed all of her trust in the young girl behind her.
She felt the shaft of a spear brush her left shoulder, and in the next moment it was planted deep in the right eye of the creature, it's own forward momentum working against it. It froze, and before it could strike out in it's death throes and mangle them, Clarisse roared her victory and shoved the spear all the way inside the head of the monster.
A second later Lamia burst into golden dust, a six inch claw left behind which had spilled the blood of countless demigods.
Atlanta found herself weightless, floating aimlessly through that which had drawn her gaze ever since she could remember. An inky blackness surrounded her, cool and soothing and the small, feather-light touches of heat and brightness that passed over her felt mesmerizing. She knew where she was without question, and the comfort it brought her was something she'd searched the entire world for, but had only ever found when gazing upward at night.
Her father's realm surrounded her blissfully, and though she currently felt formless and adrift, somehow she could recognize herself sighing in contentment. She had to be dreaming, she knew, for it was the only way she could ever visit this place so completely. The endless expanse of the Astral Plane was beyond the reach of mortals, though a few had tried to grasp it. It was a blanket of night and stars without end, and she had never felt so relaxed.
Atlanta wondered, briefly, if her father had summoned her, but knew that was wrong immediately. In this place he would be as bright as Apollo himself, a true supernova. No, Perseus wasn't here.
She definitely wasn't alone, though. She felt someone, reaching and grasping with slow, deliberate movements. There was an undertone, which she couldn't hear at first, but became clearer the longer she listened. It was a voice, dark and deep and vibrating with power. It seemed to grasp at everything around it, the chant it was speaking sounding unlike any language she'd ever heard. It definitely wasn't Greek or Latin, it had to be older.
The voice tugged at something within her with a sudden and painful intensity just below her sternum. It eased for a moment, and then pulled again, harder this time. The voice kept the steady tone, but though she couldn't understand the words, she knew it was demanding. It was taking something, and it was trying to take something inside of her as well.
There was a wrongness to it – it didn't belong in this blissful place.
The voice was coming from a very specific direction, and she didn't want to get any closer but it drew her in anyway as if an anchor was dragging her downward to it. She was drawn past the light of a million stars, ever downward and the voice only grew in both volume and intensity as she became closer.
She needed to wake up. This was wrong. She shouldn't be here, not like this and not without her father. Something was pulling her painfully and she couldn't break free. She needed to wake up, now.
The closer she traveled to the voice a deep-rooted terror seemed to grip her ruthlessly. She need to go somewhere else, anywhere else. The voice was too loud and it hurt, it hurt her ears and her chest and whatever tether it was using to drag her against her will hurt even more. She needed to go!
The voice paused, and she stopped moving. Laid out in front of her was a massive constellation that she knew of, but had never heard her father mention. It was ancient and had been created long before he was born, but he had neglected it and the stars were dim and weak. Almost as if her father had done so on purpose.
"Ahhh," the voice sighed blissfully. "We finally meet, little star."
No. She wouldn't respond, even as the constellation seemed to look right through her. She wanted to go, to leave and never return to this place. This was all wrong and didn't belong in her father's realm. This wasn't his, it didn't feel anything like him. It was cold and unforgiving like frostbite. The light of the stars from the constellation burned her eyes and she could feel an uncomfortable pressure as if she was being crushed slowly.
"Struggle if you will, I quite like it," the voice said, and it sounded amused. "I've been trying so hard to draw you into this realm for weeks, and finally you come to me all on your own. How fortunate." There was a brief, but intense jerk against that invisible anchor, and it hurt immensely. "You, like all of this beneath my gaze, will soon belong to me. There is nothing you can do, and nobody here to save you. Your...father...is far too distracted by other things to even take notice. Such foolishness does not befit the Master of all this, and so I shall take it from him."
Atlanta struggled harder, terror sweeping through her.
"Yes...I will have it all, you can be sure, for he doesn't even realize what I've done...what I'm doing. When he finally does it will be far, far too late and he will fall, as he deserves. Astraeus…" the voice hissed, fury leeching into it's tone at her father's name. "I will devour everything he loves, and when he is broken before me, then...I will take you as well. He will watch as his own child becomes my bride, and that alone will be the very sweetest torture...though I don't suppose a weak thing like you will last long."
Something squeezed and she tried to scream, but no sound escaped.
"Flee now, little star. Run and tell your father what I have told you. Watch as terror takes him and your so-called God is shown for the false idol he truly is. The weak like him have no place. He doesn't even understand the nature of the realm he lays claim to. Too foolish to understand the power at his fingertips….he is no Master, just a boy. Tell him to find me, if he can. Tell him to come and face his end!"
The voice was shouting by the end of it's rant, and suddenly she was hurtling back the way she came…
Atlanta sat up with a jolt, a gasp on her lips as unfamiliar surroundings settled in her vision. The pain from the fight hours before was still present, but it was minuscule compared to the pulling, ripping sensation that had tore at her in her dream. That crushing weight, squeezing and grinding her into a pulp. The heat of the stars that had never been anything but a comforting warmth…
'He will watch as his own child becomes my bride, and that alone will be the very sweetest torture.'
Those words haunted Atlanta deeply, and not just because of her oath to her mistress. Whatever that was, it was definitely an immortal, and there was nothing she could do to fight against that. It would have her if it wanted her. The terror inspired by that certainty was enough to curl her fingers into useless fists, and she realized she was trembling. It could reach her – had reached her – and she couldn't stop it.
Demigod dreams were often prophetic, and could be very lucid views into other things happening elsewhere. Whatever was happening, that creature was at the center of it and she wished she were close enough to tell her father. He needed to be warned. That was no simple nightmare. It was far too real and meant that something was out there, trying to usurp him and was threatening her as well.
Atlanta hadn't been fooled by the words of the creature. Her father wouldn't cower in fear from that nameless thing, and he most certainly wasn't weak. It was common knowledge that, outside of the Big Three, her father dwarfed many of the other Gods in both raw strength as well as the sheer vastness of his realm. According to the old stories he was strong enough to challenge the Titans only a decade after he was born, and that was before he had a divine realm of his own.
Thinking of him calmed her nerves somewhat, and she was able to take notice of her surroundings. After the fight they found themselves unable to travel further. She was injured and needed both nectar and rest to heal, and Beckendorf needed to have his own wounds cleaned and wrapped with medicated bandages that would speed up the healing process.
They'd been forced to take shelter temporarily in the abandoned warehouse near the scene of their short, but intense battle. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than staying out in the open. The three of them had holed up in a room that was once an office on the ground floor. The windows were smashed and the furniture that remained was rotted and rusted, but it was relatively secure.
Atlanta glanced around and took stock of the room. Beckendorf was sleeping, his head propped onto his backpack and a thin blanket covering him, but Clarisse was wide awake and staring intently at her. Feeling slightly self-conscious with the way she'd jolted awake, as well as her likely obvious panic, Atlanta cleared her throat and sat up straighter.
"Huh," Clarisse said. "So you get the dreams too. I was starting to think you were perfect. Seems like you've always got the answer and always know the next step."
Atlanta looked back at her, hearing a note of bitterness in the other girl's voice that surprised her slightly. They'd worked well together so far, and she thought Clarisse had at the very least accepted her even if she hadn't personally chose her for the quest.
"I...I guess, I mean...thanks," Clarisse said gruffly, though she looked away when she said it. "I'm no good at this sappy crap, but me and Beckendorf would probably be dead without you, so thanks."
"We're a team, at least for the duration of this quest," Atlanta said in return. She understood a little better now. She'd dealt with enough of her sisters to know that a girl's pride could be just as potent as a boy's, sometimes more so, and it was obvious that the younger girl was feeling a little overshadowed. "I'm most certainly not perfect, and I would've died to the beast without your aid as well. So thanks."
Clarisse nodded in acknowledgment. "How'd you learn to fight like that, anyway?"
"Time," Atlanta responded, reaching up to adjust her braids. "I know it's not what you want to hear, but I'm very old, and experience in battle or otherwise can only be acquired over time. Skill you have, and with time, you'll have experience as well. They're a most deadly combination. And even so, it doesn't solve everything. You should know – you ended the fight in the best shape, after all."
The younger girl glanced at Beckendorf, apparently checking if he was still asleep. "Do you think we can make it?" she asked hesitantly. "We've only been gone less than a day, and two of us are injured. We almost lost the fight with the first creature we came across. My dad's gonna be pissed."
Atlanta frowned. "We stand victorious over a foe that has never been bested. You struck the killing blow, where perhaps hundreds of heroes have failed. When we get our transportation sorted out, the drive from here to Vegas can be made in under two days, if we don't stop except for fuel. I'll switch out driving with him, and we'll rest in shifts on the move. We will succeed."
"They could ambush us on the road. That's what you were worried about with the bus, remember?"
Atlanta shook her head negatively. "I was worried about the passengers coming and going, about long layovers stuck in one place and unable to move. If we have our own means of travel we'll keep moving and even if they chase we won't allow them to catch up. Stops will have to be brief, and we must make the most of every one. Restroom breaks, food and supplies gathered while one of us refuels the vehicle. Then we move, fast, and we stay a step ahead."
Clarisse looked at her intently for a moment, and then snorted a brief laugh. "You should hear yourself. You sound like your dad, that kind-of...certainty. Like you have a plan and you'll follow through, no matter what. I guess I see why they picked you."
Atlanta flashed a quick smile at the girl. "Perhaps it's genetics," she said in return. "Really, the skills I have and my means of planning relate more to the Hunt, than anything. We're efficient and thorough, and we do not fail our mistress. The logistics of travel through dangerous territory is something we've dealt with since ancient times. I apologize for seeming to take control of your quest, but I swear if you follow me, I'll lead us to safety. You can have credit for any part of it you wish, and tell everyone I was dead weight if you prefer. I seek success, not glory."
"I won't do that," Clarisse denied, scowling briefly. "My dad's kids, we get a bad rep, and maybe we deserve it sometimes. But we have our honor, same as everyone else. We don't take glory for someone else's victory – our dad would skin us alive, literally."
"My apologies," she offered. "I only meant that, as leader of the quest, you have a lot of pressure on you to succeed. I do understand. I was once in training as a hero as well under Chiron's teachings. While I wasn't old enough at the time to be given a quest, my brothers were. One of them didn't make it back. Linus fell in battle, and I was angry when the other heroes of the time could only speak of his failure – they cared for nothing else. It was then that I decided I didn't want to be a hero anymore. I asked father for an introduction to my mistress, and joined her in the Hunt."
"You say brothers...you mean full brothers, right?" the girl asked.
Atlanta nodded. "My father took my mother for a wife, though she was mortal. I had three older brothers – Kallias, Taras, and Linus. We were born in Corinth, at my mother's estate, and my father stayed there as often as he could. When we were old enough to be hunted by monsters, we were sent to Chiron to be trained, though there was no Camp Half-Blood back then. My oldest brother, Kallias, was fifteen years older than me, and was already a soldier with a wife of his own when I began training."
"Things were very different back then," she said. "The rules were all different, and the Gods interacted with the world far more freely, though they still had ancient laws to follow. I remember my father was angry for the longest time that he wasn't allowed to save Linus. He saw him killed, and could do nothing. Just as he can do nothing to aid us now."
"What about the other two?" Clarisse asked. "They made it?"
Atlanta chuckled bitterly. "Sickness took Taras in his twenty-second winter. I didn't know for months. I wasn't even in Greece at the time, as I'd already sworn to serve my mistress and we hunted far and wide. Mother buried him alone. Kallias had a wife and a son and had moved to Athens to serve in their military. He fell as well, eventually, to a Spartan sword during the Peloponnesian War. Mother had already died two years before. And that was it, just Father and I left. My nephew, I was told, never made it to manhood."
The pain of her family's ignoble end still pinched something in her chest, even after so very long. She wished there were legends of their deeds spread far and wide, so that more than just she and her father could remember them. Her brothers were men of strength and character, and could have been great. But they weren't, not really. Just men who died badly, two of them bloody and the other to a disease that could have probably been cured in days with modern medicine. Her mother should have died a queen surrounded by thousands of subjects to mourn her passing, and instead she died in bed with her ever-youthful husband holding her hand and nobody cared but them.
Her jaw trembled slightly, and she cleared her throat. She didn't want to talk anymore. "You should rest. We'll have to leave soon."
Part Two: Clarisse
Though her eyes were closed, Clarisse could feel the steady vibration of the old panel van they'd stolen from the scrap yard back in Pennsylvania. Outside she knew that the scenery of the Midwest was flying by, though she couldn't see it from her place in the back and she didn't really know where they were exactly. Somewhere in Missouri last she'd checked.
Atlanta's plan had worked, and though they'd had to wait until nightfall they were able to find something suitable and Beckendorf had fixed it up in less than four hours. The thing was ugly as hell, but it worked and the engine was purring like brand new. The rest of it, however, was obviously not. The thing rattled and squeaked with every bump, and there were only two seats in the front – the back was completely open with only their sleeping bags spread out.
It used to be some type of work van, and there was half a name of a carpet cleaning company stenciled on the outside. The license plate had been trickier, or should've been, but Miss Perfect had just stopped next to a similar van and hopped out long enough to rip theirs off. It wasn't legal, but then none of them had a license or any kind of insurance anyway, so it didn't matter much. If they got pulled over by the police they were in the shit anyway.
They figured it was less likely to be reported that a license plate was stolen than a whole van, and even if it was, they didn't know what kind of vehicle had taken it. In order to find it the police would have to run the plate number through their system, which again, meant they were screwed anyway. It would be a whole lot more suspicious to drive around without one at all.
The group had sort-of fallen into their own roles over the first couple of days. Miss Fix-It was the sort-of leader that came up with the plans, Beckendorf was their source for all things transportation, and Clarisse was…well, she didn't have much use, to be honest. She could fight, and that was about it. Despite the obvious attempts to gaslight her into believing she was useful, Clarisse knew the truth.
Her dad was right.
He'd visited her before they left camp and told her he didn't think she was up to the job. Apparently she was only picked against his own advice, and he said Perseus should've picked her brother Mark instead. He was counselor for Cabin 6, older and stronger and better at everything...he was a boy, which is all the reason her dad really needed.
'You're pathetic. One of my sons should have taken this quest.'
She remembered begging, like a fucking loser, and promising to make him proud. It just seemed to make it worse, and finally she'd shut up. She also thought, stupidly, that he might visit her after she'd killed Lamia and realize she could do it, but she hadn't heard a peep.
The knowledge that her dad sucked wasn't new to her, and she always told herself that she didn't care. That she'd stop trying to please him. But every damn time he came around she found herself practically pleading for his attention and respect, and it made her sick to her stomach. What was worse was that she knew herself, and if he showed up right now she'd probably do it all over again. She didn't know why, but she couldn't stop.
For someone her age she thought she was fairly honest with who she was. Clarisse wasn't pretty like the Aphrodite girls, wasn't smart like Athena's kids. She could barely read a page through her dyslexia. But she was tough and she could fight, and that was supposed to be enough in Cabin 6. Only the strongest thrived there, and she was strong. So why didn't it mater?
It didn't matter how many of her brothers she beat up, or how many kids from other Cabins she showed up in the arena. Ares didn't give a damn because she was a girl, and apparently that was only useful if she was a pretty girl that he could be proud of. He was vain, like his girlfriend. Girls were supposed to be nice to look at and boys were supposed to be strong. An ugly girl who was strong was just a misfit.
Clarisse balled her fist, wishing she had the guts to punch her old man in the face. It would be the very last thing she ever did, but she was pretty sure it would be satisfying – right until he put his own fist through her head.
As she clenched her hand, Clarisse felt the ring on her left forefinger. It was her shield, and something she'd earned by right of conquest in the tournament the previous summer. Perseus always held one or two a year, a tournament for single combat held in the arena in front of the whole camp. The winner got a magic item. Sometimes a sword, a shield or another useful tool.
Clarisse had two from the last two tournaments – her shield and spear.
By the end of the last one she'd looked like a Gladiator of the old world. She was bruised and bloody and they'd tried to get her to stop. No fucking way. Sure she'd had to be carried to the infirmary at the end, but it was worth it to have Perseus present her with the golden laurels and her prize of a magic item gifted from the Gods themselves. She'd earned them, through blood and sweat and pain. Hours of practice when everyone else was playing in the lake, days of working with Mark until she couldn't stand anymore and years of fighting for the respect of the other campers.
Perseus acknowledged her and he didn't pity her. He was proud, he'd said. He was giving her a chance with this quest. A chance she couldn't mess up. He'd picked her specifically, apparently against her dad's wishes, and in some small way she hoped killing Lamia had proved him right, even if Ares wouldn't believe so. And even if Miss Perfect had done a lot of the work.
"We'll need to stop for gas soon," Beckendorf said from the driver's seat. Atlanta was riding shotgun, apparently helping him navigate. Clarisse still didn't know how the hell she just knew where to go, but she guessed it was similar to her own battle instincts. Sometimes she just knew where to strike or defend, and she also had a pretty good grasp of any weapon she picked up.
"We also need to grab some food, but we're almost out of money," Clarisse responded. "We have enough for one more fill-up and probably a meal for each of us. That's about it."
"I have an idea to gain some money," said Miss Perfect, and of course she did. It was hard not to like the older girl – she was way too nice and helpful – but Clarisse wanted to sooo bad. It kind of pissed her off, and yet having her along made the quest infinitely easier.
She'd have never thought to steal a van from a scrap yard in the middle of the night, have a son of Hephaestus fix it, and use it to travel across the country in a matter of days. Clarisse would have probably jumped on the bus and got her and the rest of them killed waiting at a terminal somewhere.
"Lets hear it," she said finally.
"I have a bag of drachma, probably a few dozen in my pack. We'd need to save some in case we need to IM someone, but the rest can be traded for mortal cash."
"Traded to who?" asked Beckendorf.
"God of Wealth and father to the two children we're going to retrieve. We need to talk to him anyway at some point. We don't know what they look like or even their names – just that they're a brother and sister, ages thirteen and ten, and they're trapped by the Lotus Eaters. We need more information so we don't try to grab the wrong kids." she said in return.
That...actually made sense, Gods damn it.
"How do we even trade with him or get in contact?" she asked, instead of grumbling like she wanted to. Clarisse was trying really hard to be grateful for the assistance instead of being resentful. It just wasn't an easy move for her to make. This was supposed to be her quest, and she hadn't done anything yet.
"At the next stop we make an offering. We'll have to go somewhere private – he won't show up in a mortal convenience store. If he comes, we be as polite and servile as we can possibly manage, and we ask. It will be fully his decision – we do not argue, at all, with whatever he decides. If he refuses, we accept it and think of something else. The Silent One is not to be tested or trifled with, ever." said Atlanta firmly. "I've dealt with many of the Gods over the years, and you have to learn how to respond to each of them should you encounter them. This one in particular – death is no different than life to him, though in death you become his. Do not give him a reason to own you."
Clarisse swallowed heavily. Gods, she really didn't want to come face to face with Hades. She'd met a few immortals, but he was always spoken of like the boogeyman, a demon who could rip your soul out and turn it into his pet. For such a simple-sounding quest, this was turning out to be more than she'd expected.
They pulled off of I-70 at Boonville, Missouri, just a few hours drive from Kansas City.
Miss Perfect said they would be able to restock on gas and grab some food, and that there were some areas nearby away from mortals where they could try to contact Hades. They would need something for an offering, but Clarisse refused to use the spoils Lamia left upon it's death, even though the older girl had said that would be the most appropriate item. Fuck that, she'd earned it, and it was worth more than the cash they hoped to receive in trade from him. She'd rather steal the money from some loser along the way than part with her trophy.
They finally decided to use the very last of their ambrosia, which Atlanta seemed angry about. They only had a little bit left, and it was extremely valuable. It could sustain them in the absence of regular food and also heal them from minor injuries. Clarisse didn't care – she wasn't handing the claw over, not on her life. It was the proof that she wasn't a failure, and it was worth more than anything they had to her. She didn't give a damn how selfish it seemed.
What had very nearly become an argument was broken up by Beckendorf's announcement that he was taking the exit. There was a convenience store right across the street from a McDonalds just off exit 103, and a road south from there that led out away from town. They grabbed their food, though Atlanta refused to get a burger – she said that cows were sacred to Artemis' brother, and she wouldn't eat beef. They were then able to gas up, leaving less than twenty dollars in their collected funds.
They journeyed south from there out into the countryside, and Clarisse was a little creeped out to realize Atlanta was leading them to a cemetery – apparently being closer to death was more likely to catch Hades' attention. Unfortunately there were some houses and farms close by, so they parked at the church next to the graveyard and hiked into the woods to the west.
They didn't go far, as they didn't want to leave their means of travel behind, but they needed to be out of sight. Miss perfect then gathered some dry kindling and some slightly larger sticks from the forest floor, and crouched down to set about making a campfire. Clarisse watched closely, her own survival skills limited to 'kill it before it kills you', and nearly flinched as a flare of white-hot heat flickered around Atlanta's hand to start the fire.
"The hell was that?" she asked.
"Starlight," the girl answered, as if that explained anything. "It's dangerous, and I only use it sparingly, but we don't have time to wait around for a fire to get going more naturally."
"Dead useful, though," said Beckendorf. "Dad has control over fire, but most of his kids never get that gift. We usually just get the ability to build and fix things. Heating your own metal sounds like it would be a dream come true."
Atlanta continued to stoke the fire, allowing the small limbs and kindling to burn down to a low, flickering flame. Once done, she took their small bag of ambrosia – with a sidelong glance at Clarisse, who just raised an eyebrow – and dumped it into the fire.
"Lord Hades," she said lowly, bowing her head in reverence. "We would seek an audience to make a bargain with you. We have need of your guidance upon our quest, and would ask that you join us."
Clarisse frowned. "That's it-"
There was a whooshing sound as the campfire was immediately snuffed out, and a chill wind blew through the clearing. The light filtering from the trees above dimmed instantly, as if darkness was falling over the world swiftly. The temperature dropped and it nearly felt like a ghostly hand was gripping the back of Clarisse's neck. And then fear. A terror she had never felt in her life gripped her chest in a vice, and her heart hammered against her ribs out of control. The level of sudden and intense emotion ripped a gasp of air from her and she fell to her knees alongside Beckendorf, who had dropped limply.
"Very bold, to call to me as if I were a dog meant to heel at your command," said a voice that could only be Hades. A giant strode from within the shadows of a tree, fifteen feet tall with broad shoulders and an angular face peeking out from within a bronze helmet. This was a mistake, Clarisse realized immediately. They should have never called him here, they should have done anything else but that. Rob a bank, mug an old grandma, sell everything they had for money before this.
"M-My Lord," Atlanta started, but Hades raised a single hand and her voice cut off instantly.
"And you, of all people, would be the one to summon me," he said, looking at the hunter with a sneer. "I should snatch the life from you for the audacity. This mess you find yourself in is entirely of your father's making. Because of his interference I have been forced to bargain with the lives of my children. And here you are, his only daughter…"
The God merely stared at Atlanta for a moment, before scoffing. "You're lucky that you're sworn to Artemis, because if you weren't, I'd take you to the Underworld myself as insurance. As it is I find myself unable to hold the sins of your father against you, in order to afford my own daughter the same courtesy."
"I...I would apologize, Lord, though I don't know what the circumstances are regarding my father." said Atlanta, head still bowed. "I have given my word to see your children to safety, and I will honor it."
"You'd better," he responded lowly. "If you don't, all bets are off. I will take your soul as the first in payment for whatever should befall my children. A thousand years in Punishment just to begin, and then I will get creative."
There was a sound, like a cloth flapping in the wind, and suddenly another God stood amongst them. Perseus towered over their prone forms at an equal fifteen feet tall, and stood eye to eye with Hades. He didn't look happy and this wasn't looking good at all.
"Shut your mouth," Perseus snapped. "I'm getting sick of your bitching about everything and threatening mortal children shows that you stand equal to your brothers in foolishness. If you have something to say, to threaten, say it to me. I'll gladly tear down an asteroid and vaporize that shit city you call home. Whatever's left after I'm through, I'll pound into your fucking living room."
The temperature had skyrocketed, and a distortion of heat was radiating off Perseus.
"So, this is how far you wish to take it…" said Hades, and he didn't look even a little afraid. "A little shit like you thinks he can stand in front of me, and talk like that?"
"Happily," Perseus ground out. "For thousands of years I've watched and took orders from you three. You throw your damn weight around because you think we'll all bow to you. Maybe the others will, but you seem to forget that I'm not like them at all. I don't fear you, Hades, and you can threaten war all you like. Come to me, then, in my realm. Come and bring your war and I'll meet you gladly."
"Very well," Hades growled. "If this quest isn't finished in two weeks – if my children aren't safe in that time, you will be first. Prepare yourself, if you can."
And then he was just gone. Perseus remained behind, glaring at the place Hades had stood, his jaw clenched. "Don't listen to a damn thing he said. If it takes more than two weeks, so be it. He can kiss my ass. Let him come."
"I...I'm sorry, Father," Atlanta said quietly. "I didn't know you two were at odds, or I wouldn't have called for him."
Perseus shook his head, and his body shrunk to match his normal height. "Like I said, don't worry about it. Focus on keeping yourselves safe and continuing your objective. Let me worry about Hades." He paused, glancing at her curiously. "Why did you need to call on him, anyway?"
"Money," she answered. "As all wealth falls beneath his influence, and we needed information on the demigods we are supposed to retrieve, it seemed the logical choice."
Perseus nodded. "Alright. Just stay clear of him for now, one way or the other. I'll leave you some money, though I'm not allowed to help you more overtly. As for the demigods, they're a brother and sister named Nico and Bianca. They're Italian, and though I've never met them, most of Hades children tend to be pale with dark hair and eyes. That's the best I can give you."
It was definitely better than nothing, Clarisse thought. Suddenly Perseus turned his gaze to her, and he smiled briefly. "Congratulations on your victory. You should know that word made it's way to camp this morning from the satyrs that Lamia, Devourer of Children had fallen to the daughter of Ares. The kids back home are all singing your praises and Cabin 9 has already started making the laurels for your return."
The pride that swelled in her chest at that simple declaration was intense and sudden. It seemed to surge through her and left her feeling more confident than she had been a moment ago, as stupid as that seemed. If she couldn't earn her father's respect, she'd damn well earn everyone else's.
Beckendorf chuckled, though it was slightly shaky after their run in with Hades. "Make sure to tell them to pull out all the stops, if you don't mind sir. I almost lost a leg to that thing."
"Will do," Perseus said, nodding once. He flicked his fingers and a stack of cash was in his right hand. He handed it to Atlanta quickly. "I have to go, I'm not allowed to help you any more than this. Just keep up the way your going and don't focus on anything else."
He glanced at his daughter once more, holding her gaze for a second, and then he was gone as well.
The whole group seemed to sigh in relief at the end of what was nearly a divine showdown. It had almost turned ugly, and Clarisse realized they had to be much more careful when calling on one of the Gods. The politics involved had nearly gotten them killed.
"We need to move," Atlanta said quickly. "We now have a deadline, and we must meet it."
Beckendorf glanced at her. "I thought your dad said don't worry about the deadline."
The older girl scowled, nearly glaring at him. "I'm not going to be the cause of my father going to war with another God just because I wanted to take my time. Two weeks from now, we'd all better be safely back at camp, no matter what, and the two kids had better be with us."
She was right, Clarisse knew, remembering the words of the Oracle and recalling how it said 'the world fall to darkness' in the final line. It wasn't just Perseus and Hades involved now. The danger of them going to war would likely involve everyone. Perseus had his allies that would likely aid him, and Hades had his own. It could get really, really bad in a hurry.
The clock, it seemed, was now ticking.
Author's Note: So this is the end of the first Interlude. I originally planned to have it contain the entire quest, but realized that I couldn't do it justice in just one chapter. So, this is where I'll leave it for now. The quest is well on it's way, tension is heating up with Hades, and they still haven't even made it to Vegas.
Next Chapter will be a return to normal, though it will probably be entirely from Perseus' pov. Thalia is in training at the moment at camp and that, to be honest, is not very interesting.
We'll take a look at the divine world of the Gods next, and maybe get a glimpse of Perseus' hidden enemy. I think I made it a little too obvious perhaps who it is, but if you guess it that's fine with me.
In this Chapter I attempted to show some of the history from Atlanta's pov, and a little more depth to her relationship with her father. I also wanted to flesh out a little of her own motivations. As for Clarisse, her piece was shorter but I just wanted to give a brief glimpse into her head about what drives her and why she might react the way she does to things.
I felt like I neglected Beckendorf a little, but to be honest I've always viewed him as a side character anyway. He is important to the quest, but not so much that I wanted to focus on him.
As always, review if you want, don't if you don't.
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for the next one.