Finding Cleo hadn't been a challenge. She was in the infirmary, taking her anger out on one of those realistic, anatomically correct bodies, cracking its ribs with a rib spreader. Some of the other campers that were stuck in beds looked like they wanted to throw up at the sound of ribs cracking. But it was just a model, so the most harm Cleo was doing was bending plastic.

Luke had been next to Cleo, appearing kind of green himself. He had a hand pressed to his sternum, like he was making sure that it wasn't him on the infirmary bed rather than a fake cadaver.

"Is that what happened when you operated on me?" Luke asked, tracing the scar that ran the length of his sternum through his shirt.

"Not exactly." I then told Luke the watered down version of how we basically removed most of his ribcage, which only made it sound worse than it actually was.

"Oh, gods," Luke groaned, clutching his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Not in here!" Cleo scolded, looking up once the rib spreaders were as wide as they could go. "I just mopped!"

I handed Luke a barf bag, which he gratefully accepted before rushing off towards the front door. He could deal with burns, cuts, and poison, but surgery scared him? I guess that's normal; but who was I to say what's normal?

"Welcome back from the Land of the Dead," Cleo said, making sure to roll her eyes at me before picking up a scalpel and delicately dragging it across the dummy's lung.

"Aren't you supposed to heal those hurt?" I asked, wincing as fake blood started oozing from the punctured lung.

"I am." She set the scalpel down and picked up a suture kit. "But this is a good way to practice without having to use real cadavers or people."

"Did she say she's going to cut into us?" one of the campers shouted.

"Oh, Hades no! I won't become some med-toy today!"

"Calm yourselves," Will snapped at the three campers. "We practice on fake cadavers, not real people. It's how we train."

"Weirdos," the third one muttered.

"I wouldn't call them that," I said, stepping out from behind the gray curtain that separated where Cleo was from the rest of the infirmary beds. "When you're bleeding out, they're the ones making sure you live to see the next sunrise. Watch what you say about the children of Apollo."

"Exactly!" Will said, nodding enthusiastically. It was kind of dark, actually, to think that an eleven-year-old had more training in saving lives than first year med students, who were usually around twenty-eight-years-old, but such is the life of a demigod.

And that was the end of that argument, allowing for Will to finish filling out charts while Cleo worked in silence.

Cleo would stick out her tongue in concentration as she passed the suture in and out of the laceration, not even fazed when a squirt of blood got her right in the neck. "Oops," she said, gently prodding the lung with her finger. "Looks like the heart got cut, too."

Seeing that I'd been trained in this type of thing by Apollo, I gave Cleo tips whenever she got stuck, which she greatly appreciated. It was nice doing this. It was almost like a normal day at camp. If only it wasn't for the fact that Cleo was going to die within the next few weeks, I'd feel more comfortable about the sheer normalcy of it all.

Luke, who had only recently come back from wherever he'd gone off to, immediately fainted at the sight of Cleo cutting into the dummy's sternum with a bone saw. I managed to catch him before he landed on the floor, Cleo, Will, and I all laughing as I did so.

"Never thought the great Luke Castellan would be so squeamish at the sight of blood," Will remarked, laughing as he grabbed Luke's legs, the both of us hoisting him into an infirmary bed.

"Everyone's got something that makes them tick. Like, I hate most bugs, arachnids, and snakes, especially snakes."

"I thought you liked nature!"

"Oh, I do, but mostly the plant side of it all."

"Makes sense," Will shrugged. "I mean, all Apollo kids fear the dark. Why do you think our cabin glows even at night? We have so many nightlights, it's like you're sleeping with someone shining a flashlight in your eyes."

Our conversation was interrupted when I heard a, "Yes! I'm done!" from Cleo. She threw back the curtain and gestured towards the dummy, whose chest was stitched up in the shape of an upside down Y. As for Cleo, she had fake blood covering her gloved hands, and some had managed to land on her clothes, neck, and arms as well. But she didn't seem to care, extremely proud with having done her "surgery" successfully.

"I'm going to be sick!" one of the campers exclaimed, and Will rushed off, barely returning in time with an empty bucket before the sound of someone heaving filled the infirmary. Geez, who knew so many demigods were squeamish around blood?

Cleo rolled her eyes at the demigod and drew the curtain shut again. The next time she opened it, she was wearing stain free clothing, and the dummy plus the bloodied equipment were nowhere in sight.

"Will you hold down the fort for a little while?" Cleo asked Will, who was holding out the vomit-filled bucket while his nose was scrunched up in disgust.

"Sure thing. I'll page you if I need you."

"Sounds good to me." Cleo turned up the volume on her pager and clipped it to the waistband of her shorts. "Come on, Andy. You and I have some catching up to do."

There had been no evening activity that night. Chiron deemed it a cabin's night, meaning that we could do whatever we wanted within our own cabins, including staying up past curfew. However, a couple cabins wanted to have a little campfire of their own, and Chiron allowed that so long as the senior counselors promised to keep the younger ones under control.

Percy was in no mood to join the impromptu campfire. He was already mentally exhausted from being chewed out by Annabeth, and the lack of Tyson and Grover's presence wasn't helping matters, either.

I offered to smuggle in a DVD player and some CDs or to play some board games that I had under my bed, but Percy merely shook his head, saying that he wanted to go to bed early. I didn't pry.

I turned off the lights to the cabin but kept the light above my bunk on. Just because Percy wanted to sleep didn't mean I had to go to bed yet.

Pulling out my phone, I plugged in my earbuds and began listening to some music as I pulled out the last book of the Mortal Instruments and started to read. I'd gotten a few chapters in before I heard a familiar guitar rift.

The blood drained from my face as I dropped City of Heavenly Fire, trying to find my phone, which had gotten lost in the cocoon of blankets I'd made.

"Six schools in six years," Chris McCarrell's voice sang, only furthering my panic. I knew my music traveled with me, but if Percy, or anyone else for that matter, heard this album, I would be so massively screwed that not even the Fates themselves could help me. "Been kicked out of every place. Everything I do is wrong. Never find where I belong. Everybody on my case."

"Crap," I muttered, frantically shoving through my blankets. "Crap, crap, crap."

I finally found my phone, but in my hurry to find it, I accidentally yanked out my headphones. And seeing that the last person who had used it had been Calypso, my volume was all the way up, so that the lines, "Pack your bags, Percy. You're always to blame!" blared out loud.

I've never hit the pause button harder in my life, immediately shutting off my phone and shoving it back into my bag.

With my heart hammering in my chest, I glanced at Percy, breathing a small sigh of relief when I saw that he was still sleeping. Still, I watched him for another five minutes, making sure that this was a deep sleep, not something that he could easily snap out of and ask me why his name was in a song I was listening to.

Once I felt I was in the clear, I leaned out of my bunk to pick up my discarded book, apologizing profusely to the inanimate object like the nerd that I am. Seriously, my books were my babies, and God have mercy on anyone who hurt them.

"Hey, Andy," Percy said three minutes later, which sent my pulse racing again. Did he hear the song? Did I have to reverse time on him, again? "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure thing, squirt." I pulled my knees to my chest and patted the space next to me. "Bad dream?"

"You can say that again." Percy got into my bed and pulled one of the sheets over his shoulders like a cape. "Kyle found a lone half-blood in the Labyrinth. And he said something about that being a blessing from you-know-who. Are they really that close, Andy?"

I fiddled with the edge of my blanket. "Last time I dreamt of him, I heard that all that they needed was one more follower. If Kyle gets his hands on this half-blood, there's going to be trouble."

"What's new?" Percy scoffed, leaning against the wall. "Trouble is my middle name."

"Perseus Trouble Jackson." I laughed. "Nah, that doesn't sound right."

"Sounds better than my real middle name."

"Really? What is it?"

Percy burrowed his face into his knees in embarrassment. "Promise not to tell Annabeth or Thalia?"

I held my hand up. "Scout's honor."

He rolled his eyes. "We both know you weren't a Girl Scout."

"Whatever, squirt. Still, in all seriousness, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"My middle name is James."

I felt my eyes widen. Back home, I'd read a ton of fanfictions where Percy's middle name typically was Achilles or some other Greek hero's name. I would've never guessed his middle name to be James.

"In honor of my grandpa," Percy explained. "His name was James, but he went by Jim. I never got a chance to meet him."

"Because of the plane crash," I said. Percy nodded. "Does your mom ever tell you stories about them?"

"Not really. Since they died when she was five, she doesn't remember much about them."

"Would you like to meet them?"

Percy blanched. "Do you have Hades' powers too? Like Nico?"

"As in the ability to summon ghosts?" He nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. I usually get mistaken as a daughter of Hades from how often I use shadows when I fight."

Percy snorted at that, fighting off a forming smile. "No offense to Nico or Hades, but you don't look anything like them. And you're not as intimidating as them."

"Then again, you've known me since you were seven," I reminded him. "So, want to meet Jim and Estelle Jackson?"

"Sure. It's not like I'm going to get any more sleep tonight."

"Okay, give me a few minutes. By the way, want anything from McDonalds?"

"What is it with ghosts and McDonalds?" Percy exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

I shrugged. "Whatever works, I guess."

"Fine, bring me a Coke and some fries, please."

"Sounds like a plan."

I returned to the cabin ten minutes later, holding four Happy Meals in my hands as well as a medium Coke and fries. I handed Percy his stuff before gesturing for him to follow me into the woods. We didn't need to go that far, but I didn't want any of the other campers to see us. Last thing I needed was for another traitor to tell Kronos that I could control the dead.

We stopped in front of a ditch, and after making sure there wasn't anyone around, I started pouring the Happy Meals into the ditch while chanting in Ancient Greek. The temperature dropped around us, like we'd walked into Costco's industrial sized freezer. The moonlight turned menacing, reminding me how unnatural this was and how glad I was that I typically never had to use this ability.

"Jim and Estelle Jackson," I said as spirits approached to drink. Just in case, I'd pulled out my Stygian iron hunting knives in case I had to dispel an uncooperative shade.

Two of the shades knelt at the ditch and drank, their bodies then solidifying enough for Percy and me to make out in the night. The man on the left, Jim, was around 5'10" and had warm brown eyes with dark brown hair. His wife, Estelle, was only an inch shorter, and she too had the same eyes and hair as Jim. But what they clearly passed onto Sally was their smiles, the kind that could make anyone feel good merely by being in their presence.

"Hello, Miss," Estelle said kindly, bowing her head reverently in my direction.

"How may we serve you?" Jim asked.

"You needn't serve me," I said, which I knew would confuse the two shades. "I just wanted to introduce you to your grandson, Percy Jackson."

"Um, hi?" Percy asked, cringing at his own awkwardness.

"Oh my, he's precious!" Estelle cried, rushing over to Percy, attempting to pinch his cheeks. But whenever she got too close to his skin, her own incorporeal body would dissipate as if made from mist, which technically, it was. "You have Jim's smile and Sally's hair."

"Really?" Percy scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how to act in front of his dead grandparents. "I was told I look like an exact replica of my dad."

"Nonsense," Jim replied, attempting to ruffle Percy's unruly locks. "You have more of your mother in you than anyone else. Who else would be willing to hold the weight of the sky to save a friend?"

Percy's eyes widened in shock. I won't lie, mine did too. "How did you know about that?" he asked.

"Gossip travels fast in the Underworld," I explained. "Asphodel is dreadfully boring."

"Sure is. Wish I had some of my airplane books to read down there."

Estelle lightly slapped the back of Jim's head. "You and airplanes. Surprised you're not afraid of them, seeing how we died."

I winced. "For your information, I was told that there was a mechanical error in two of the engines that the crew ignored. The remaining survivors sued the airline, and they won."

"Good," Estelle huffed. "At least that teaches people to not ignore mechanical issues in airplane engines. Anyhow, how is our Sally doing? She was so young when we left."

"Mom's doing very well," Percy said, finally warming up to his grandparents once he saw that they weren't going to hurt him. "She's working for her English literature bachelor as well as writing a novel. Um, she's dating a guy called Paul Blofis that makes her very happy."

"Blowfish, did you say?" Jim asked.

"Blowfis," Percy repeated. "B-l-f-s-o…I mean B-f-w."

"B-l-o-w-f-i-s," I spelled, earning a grateful look from Percy.

"Stupid dyslexia."

"Tell me about it." Jim rolled his eyes. "Nothing worse than loving to read and having letters fly off the page. Want to know something? It's helpful if you have pictures or someone else to read to you. God knows that's what Estelle did."

"How you didn't fall asleep hearing me prattle on about the engines of biplanes is beyond me," Estelle said. "But whatever makes you happy, dearest."

Their bodies flickered, and I knew it was time for them to return to the Underworld. It didn't help that the other spirits were starting to get restless, wanting to take a drink from the McDonald's filled ditch.

"It's time to go," I said sadly, watching as Jim and Estelle linked hands, shooting Percy loving looks and wide smiles.

"You go and be the best hero you can be, sport," Jim said.

"And tell Sally that we love her," Estelle added. "We love you both dearly, Percy. Don't forget that."

The two then dissipated into nothingness.

I slashed my knives over the ditch, and the rest of the shades vanished as well. Then, I bent down and picked up the leftovers, not wanting for the nymphs to leave a whole bunch of creepy crawlies in my bunk for littering.

"What'd you think of your grandparents?"

"They're literally older versions of my mom," Percy said fondly, bending down to help me clean up. "I can see why Mom grew up a happy child for her first five years."

"Speaking of which, what are you going to tell her tomorrow?"

Percy's face went red. "How do you know about that?"

"Gossip spreads faster here than in Asphodel."

"Well, if it goes as well as I think it does, I'm going to need another burial shroud."

I laughed and stood up, throwing an arm over Percy's shoulders as we walked back to our cabin, sipping Cokes and eating fries.

Tension began growing in Camp Half-Blood not too long after Percy and Annabeth had departed again, in search of Rachel Elizabeth Dare to lead them through the perilous Labyrinth. Meanwhile, the rest of us trained every available minute of the day, the only exceptions being Beckendorf, Nyssa, and James from the Hephaestus cabin and Clarisse, who had started to spend most of her days caring for Chris Rodriguez.

Things had gotten so bad that Chiron canceled all activities in favor of training only, and seeing that Quintus had disappeared a few weeks back, I was to take his place as the swordsmanship instructor. Luke was still teaching our hand-to-hand combat class, but seeing that we were most likely going to be armed when the time came, he switched to teaching the younger kids how to wield daggers and knives as if they were extensions of their hands.

During the night, some of the senior counselors would patrol the woods, making sure that nothing slipped past the camper on sentry duty right by Zeus's Fist. Lately we'd been hearing strange rumbling noises from the pile of rocks, like an army was marching right in our direction, which was exactly what was happening.

But since time worked differently in the Labyrinth, I knew we still had some time before the attack against camp began.

Personally, I felt like a compressed spring as I counted down the days for Kyle's army to come bursting into the woods, my muscles taut like I was expecting to be ambushed anytime I was by myself. And who knows? Maybe I would be. I seriously doubt that Silena would be the only traitor in this timeline, especially since another child of Aphrodite's name had appeared on my list of people that would die in place of someone else.

And if there is another traitor at camp, then that means I'm not safe. There was still four days to go until the attack, and if I did the math correctly, Ethan Nakamura didn't pledge his loyalty to Kronos until a few hours before the Battle of the Labyrinth began.

"Christ sakes," I muttered under my breath before jumping back, narrowly avoiding Luke's slash towards my abdomen.

I parried his sword away from me, adding just enough force to make Luke's grip on his hilt awkward, giving me time to go for his undefended side. Between the two of us, we were a flurry of slashes, stabs, and parries, neither one of us able to get the other to concede no matter how exhausted we both were.

"You're distracted," Luke commented as he easily sidestepped one of my swings, making a wild slash at my legs.

I forced Luke's sword down into the ground, and within seconds, various vines encased the Celestial bronze blade, prohibiting Luke from picking it up again. "Am I?" I asked coolly, pressing the button on the hilt of Epithymia before the charm returned to my bracelet.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Luke pulled at his sword, violently jerking the hilt in his direction, but all he succeeded in doing was getting the vines to wrap around his hand as well, immobilizing it. "I thought we weren't using powers this round."

"That was last round," I reminded him. Then I snapped my fingers, causing for the vines to collapse and slowly shrink their way back into the ground. "This time everything was fair game."

Luke muttered about how he hadn't known that, bending down to pick up his fallen sword. The wings at the heels of his sneakers flapped irritably as well, like they were also annoyed about the fact that Luke hadn't used them during the fight.

"Rematch?" he asked, casually twirling his sword in the palm of his hand, completely unaffected by the fact that both of us were completely drenched in sweat from our fights as well as the brutal sunlight. You would think Apollo would try to make things easier on the kids about to fight for their lives, but apparently he wanted us to have a nice tan before we died.

"We've been at this for five hours now." I grabbed my water bottle and drank the rest of its contents, sighing in relief as my throat no longer felt like sandpaper. "We have classes to teach in a few minutes, and it's not going to do anyone any good if we're too tired to instruct."

"Boo, you're no fun," Luke said, but he actually seemed kind of relieved, seeming a little too eager to sheath his sword.

"Yeah, well, we're about to go to war. This isn't about having fun; it's about staying alive."

Just then the Stoll brothers came running by screaming the lyrics to "Stayin' Alive" by the Bee Gees at the top of their lungs while an Ares boy, Sherman, chased them with his spear in hand. It didn't take long for me to realize why Sherman was out for Travis and Connor's blood. The two had covered Sherman from head to toe in bright pink paint that was mixed with something foul smelling, like someone had put various rotten eggs into a gallon of curdled milk and left it to sit out in the sweltering heat.

I scrunched my nose in disgust and turned away from the screaming Stoll brothers. Luke face palmed, muttering, "I can't believe I'm related to those two," as he glanced upwards, watching the three boys fade in the distance.

"Siblings," I said. "You can't live with or without them."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "How would you know? You don't have any siblings – mortal ones, anyways."

"Raised in an orphanage, remember? Those girls were practically my sisters for the first fourteen years of my life."

"Oh, right." He was visibly uncomfortable, like he didn't know how to react to the fact that I was an orphan.

It's not like I really cared about explaining my experience, because nothing ever got to the point of being traumatizing. Sure, Kathleen, Mandy, and Ilene made my life a nightmare within the orphanage, but it was nothing I couldn't handle. For as much as they were bullies, they had enough sense of morality to not physically abuse me. However, I can't say the same thing about their choice of words.

"It's fine, Luke," I said. "You can ask me about my time in the orphanage; I don't care. It's not like I had a home beforehand, anyways."

"What do you mean?"

I paused. "Did I not tell you about my life before I came to camp?"

"Not really, no. All I know is that you were an orphan who escaped an abusive adoptive family, met up with us, and ended up here in Camp Half-Blood." Luke pursed his lips together. "Why do you think so many kids here are wary of you? No one knows anything about you, Andy, other than what I know and that you trained under the Olympians for five years of your life. You're an enigma to them, and it doesn't help that you have so many powers, either. To new and younger campers, you're terrifying."

I started racking my brain, thinking of all the conversations that involved my explaining my past to others. I realized that the majority of the time I was forced to disclose those details to the gods, never really getting into the nitty gritty of things with people. Sure, there were a few exceptions like Cleo, Percy, Annabeth, Nico, Bianca, Leo, and Hazel, but even those were a few sparse details here and there. Other than that, I didn't have a clear recollection of ever explaining my past to anyone.

"Well, I'll have to tell you about myself sometime," I told Luke, who had started to set up the arena for his class. "But not right now. First we train."

"Fine," Luke conceded. "But I want the full story once this damned attack is over."

"Deal."

The two of us shook hands, and I left, heading to set up for my own class. But I didn't make it far before a familiar pressure appeared in my head, like someone had just shoved a burning hot poker between my eyes.

I stumbled and braced myself against a nearby tree, my vision swimming as I waited for whatever message or vision to show itself. Whoever was trying to contact me was having a hard time, because all I heard was the hum of static, which quickly grew irritating.

"Hurry up," I pleaded, clutching at my head in agony. Gods forbid this happens during the battle, but I'd like to think that the Fates knew better than to send a vision in a life or death situation.

"We're heading back to camp," I heard Percy's voice faintly echo in my mind. "But we're not alone. Get ready. They're coming."

Percy's presence exited my mind, my vision correcting itself soon after. I swore under my breath as I took off for the Big House, where Chiron had been preparing for his master's archery class. My head pounded like I'd been whacked upside the head with a hammer, but I shoved the discomfort aside and stood in front of Chiron, my chest heaving as I attempted to catch my breath from my burst of manic speed.

"Andy, my dear," Chiron said, a worried expression on his face as he slung his quiver over his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"The attack," I said between breaths. "It's beginning."