To Riordanlover16- Happy Stims are in my Top Three favourite responses! The other two are Tears and Death Threats XD I'll let you pick the order :P
To LooneyPeach- (Chapter 6) I did make a whole magical non-mythical thing! I'm assuming you're talking about my book, but correct me if I'm wrong! Eyes of Violet is pretty cool, even if I do say so myself ;) I would expect nothing less than a metal folding chair! (Chapter 7) She does but she's not very good with emotions either :'(
Louisa hadn't had a girls' night before. If TV had taught her anything, girls' night consisted of hair and make-up or boozy nights out or talking about boys or clothes or something along those lines. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect, especially with Mikey at the helm, but she was pleasantly surprised.
Mikey's version of girls' night was much more catered to the group.
Rather than clubbing, they went go-karting. An indoor centre with a looping course, the air bitter on her fingers and her face as she whooshed around the track. She crashed into the back of Annabeth and fish-tailed her away. She overtook Reyna and got sworn at. She zipped past Piper and Hazel and came second behind Mikey. Mikey, the Mario Kart Queen, had somehow translated his digital skills to the physical track. He was the only one Louisa could not beat and his crown ruled supreme.
Go-karting was followed by a trip to the cinema to watch old-timey, black-and-white horror films. Lots of dramatic screaming and lightning, lots of ketchup thrown and some very theatrical dying. Louisa ate most of a popcorn bucket to herself, sat between Piper and Hazel. Hazel was watching from between her fingers for the majority of the films, rather pale when they left. The poor girl would never survive modern day horror.
It was gone midnight by this point. They trundled back to Reyna's, being the closest to Jessica's, and ordered takeaway from three different places, placing bets on who would get there first. Louisa left them to it for a bit, enjoying the peace of the bathroom. Mikey, bless him, had thought ahead and packed a pump for her. She felt a bit weird storing the milk in Reyna's fridge, but she would take it home for Bradley tomorrow. None of the others had a problem with it and Annabeth, being the only other mother present, had a few helpful tips for her.
"Oooh," Piper whined, plonking her head in her hands while she listened to them. "I want a baby."
"You can have mine," Annabeth offered. "Someone taught him to swear." She daggered a look at her sister-in-law. Louisa looked over her right shoulder, then her left.
"Who?" she asked innocently. Annabeth grumbled some swears of her own.
"Can I really?" Piper beamed. Annabeth pursed her lips and Piper slumped on the table. "I thought we were friends!"
"We are friends, but he's still my child. Make your own."
"I'm trying!" Piper exclaimed, which broke the group down into giggles.
Hazel won the bet, her Dominos pizza beating Mikey's Pizza Hut. Louisa and Reyna had ordered from a smaller chain, locally owned. They swore blind it was better than the chain stuff, but refused to share to prove their point.
They watched a few episodes of Doctor Who while they ate. Reyna had set the living room up for them all to camp in, blow-up beds and sleeping bags, a scattering of pillows and blankets. She herself crashed on the couch.
Louisa lay to the side, preferring to be on the outside of her hubbub of friends. Mikey was closest to her, curled up in the armchair. It could not have been comfortable, but she knew her friend did not have bones like everyone else. He had jelly bones and could be comfortable anywhere that took his fancy.
Soft snores filled the room, the shuffle of bedding and murmur of dreams. The room was almost dark and she could only make out shadows on shadows, the rough shape of the gang. The ceiling was grey in this light and she stared at it, her hands twisting the blanket between them.
Was Bradley OK? How were the boys getting on with his diapers? Louisa had muddled her way through a baby book before and after Bradley had been born and knew newborn diapers were awful. Green-ish poo because they couldn't yet poo normally. Revolting facts, yes, but Bradley was worth it. Such a small thing to have such a big impact. How old was he now? She started counting on her fingers and then realised she didn't know what the date was.
Work it out later, she told herself, trying to ignore the guilty feeling of not knowing how old her baby was. Time had been different lately, time had been… no, she didn't want to think about it.
Think about Bradley.
Leo's security system was in place. Jessica was there with her beloved bat and her no-nonsense death glare. Harvey and his magic. Dylan would have no doubt sniffed out hidden demigod weapons, he always could. Connor would have a watch plan in place. Storm would stomp anyone and everyone to death if she had to. And maybe Festus was active; Leo wouldn't leave him in suitcase mode for long.
She rubbed at her eye, sighing. Bradley would be fine. He was fine, no-one had contacted her with anything different. She would see him tomorrow, later today if the time on her watch was right. Three in the morning? She really did need to sleep.
Maybe she could ask the others to go go-karting again another time. That had been fun. Especially Annabeth's face when she finally stopped spinning.
Annabeth would know how old her baby is.
Stop it. I'll work it out later.
That's not good enough.
Shut up.
She rolled onto her side, huffing irritably. Seriously, what day were they on? Had they reach two weeks yet? Three weeks? Gods above, where was a calendar?
She kicked back the blanket and got up, stepping carefully over the others. Mikey snorted and mumbled gibberish. Hazel was hugging a pillow and Piper's arm, probably tormented by those old cheesy horrors. Annabeth had whisked her hair up to sleep, a golden fan across the pillow. Reyna was lying on the sofa, her back to the room.
The kitchen had a calendar. Reyna was tight on schedules still, despite praetorship all those years behind. Her calendar was packed with neat writing, birthdays and anniversaries and reminders. Louisa had to squint to read the dates between the penmanship, leaning towards the window to use the moonlight.
She had come back in June, late June. Bradley had been born in September. September seventh. She counted under her breath, eyes widening as she went. Two weeks. Had it only been two weeks? It felt an age!
Two weeks and… one, two, three days. No, wait, four. What day were they on?
Two and half weeks then. That'll do.
Louisa blinked at the calendar, holding it close. Maybe it had been misprinted somewhere? Had she counted wrong? Had it really been two weeks? The birth felt a whole world away and she had changed enough diapers to last her a lifetime, surely. Green-ish poopy leaking diapers.
"Gross," she muttered, hanging the calendar back on its hook on the wall. She stuck her tongue out to make herself feel better, though she did feel better anyway. She knew how old her baby was now. She was a good mama.
She made it back to her blow-up bed without waking anyone, sitting for a moment. She looked around the room, listening to the swell of snores and muttering. Hazel had thrown her pillow and was now lying on her back, star-fished. Annabeth had rolled her head and her hair was stuck to her cheek.
Louisa blinked, checked the other side of the room.
Luke stared back at her.
He stood by the front door, his hand on the doorknob as if he had just closed it. He put a finger to his lips, smirking, and her heart dropped to her stomach.
"Ssh," he said, speaking in whispers. "Don't want to wake the others now, do we?"
Louisa felt her hands shaking, her mouth dry and sandy. What was he doing here? How was he here?
No no no no no, this couldn't be happening.
Luke stepped closer, grinning. He drew his sword, the two-toned metal flashing bronze and silver, reflecting what little light framed the room.
No no no no no.
Throbbing in her chest, in her throat, in her stomach. Pins and needles dug into the back of her head. Luke stood over her, running his thumb along the sharp edge. Beads of blood bloomed on his skin. He wiped them away on his fingers, examining the smears.
He smiled at her. "Don't worry, Louisa. I'll make it quick." Her ears were ringing. What did he say?
The flat of the sword touched her cheek, the metal icy and biting. She flinched. Someone had replaced her windpipe with a straw, why couldn't she breathe?
The sword moved, twisting as it did, until the wicked edge touched her throat. Luke's smile flashed into a sneer, only quickly, back to a smile. "I don't need you anymore. Did you not think of that?" Her fingers twitched. Come on, come on, come on… "I've got Bradley now and with you out of the way," something warm trickled on her throat, something stinging a horizon across her skin, "he's mine for the taking, isn't he?"
How did he know Bradley's name?
The warmth on her throat grew searing hot. It flared through her chest and her head, a wildfire of rage. Someone was yelling, that was her! She was yelling, roaring, on her feet without knowing how or when. Her sword was in her hand and smashed his away.
Not Bradley! He would not have Bradley and he would not have her!
Her sword felt heavy and wonky in her hold. Her stabs and slashes were wild in temper, muscle memory ticking over and straightening her attacks. Luke parried, only parried. That smile never faltered, breaking into laughter when he side-stepped her swipe.
Blood was thundering in her ears. She was Louisa! She was the daughter of Neptune! She was not going to be defeated!
Strength surged through her and she kicked out, catching him in the stomach. He flew back, crunching into the wall. His sword clattered to the floor.
I've got him, Louisa thought, mind whirling. I've got him.
She raised her sword, both hands on the hilt. Point down. I've fuckin' got him.
She brought the blade down.
"WAKE UP!"
Lights were on. Louisa blinked, flinching away. Dark splodges criss-crossed her vision. Hands grasped her arms, straining against her. Someone stood before her, a warm body, a presence. She could hear them breathing.
Blinking away the splodges, things came into focus.
Piper stood in front of her. Not stood, crouched, leaning back. The point of Louisa's sword shivered over her nose and she was going cross-eyed to keep it in view.
Reyna and Mikey were on Louisa's left. Annabeth and Hazel were on her right. All four of them were pulling at her arms, holding her back.
"Wh—?" Louisa stared at Piper, who sank to her knees. "What's goin' on? Where's… where is he, where did he go?"
"Lou." Piper held her hands up placatingly. "Lou, you were having a nightmare."
"What?" No. No, it had been so real. No!
Reyna reached up. Louisa didn't fight her, the sword falling from her hold to Reyna's. The grips on her arms relaxed and then vanished. Everyone stepped back.
Piper stood slowly, carefully. She didn't break eye contact with her, hands still raised.
"Lou?" she asked gently. "We heard you yelling. Woke up to see you… fighting something. Nothing we could see, but…"
"We tried to wake you up," Mikey picked up in a trembling squeak. "We were all shouting for you."
"What?" Louisa said again. She felt sick. Pinpricks, black speckles, danced across her eyes. Her mind felt full of static. "What? Where is he?"
"He's not here, Lou," Annabeth soothed. "Piper woke you up with charmspeak."
"But—"
"Lou." Hazel gripped her hand in both of hers. "Lou, you're OK. It was a nightmare. It wasn't real."
"He was right there…"
"He wasn't."
"I saw him…" Her knees buckled. Hands flew out to her again, supportive rather than restraining. Someone hugged her, held her. "I saw him… I swear I saw him…"
"I know," Piper said in her ear, stroking her hair, "but he's not here. He never was."
Louisa began to cry. Piper hugged her tighter. They were kneeling on the floor, awkward cramping in their legs. Neither of them moved, neither of them noticed. Tears cut down Louisa's face, a lump in her throat. No sound came from her, silent grief taking over.
Piper shushed her kindly, then began to sing. Louisa heard no words, only the tune. Charmspeak never worked on her, it never worked on her. She was too stubborn, had always been too stubborn.
This time, it did. Piper's shout had snapped her out of the nightmare— it had never been real, it was never real—and now it was calming her. Piper sang and Louisa listened. The nameless words carried over her, washed through her, and she let them.
She fell asleep to Piper's singing. It was never real. He had never been here.
It had felt real though.