―viii. a council meeting with cheez-whiz and death

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NAOMI HAD NEVER BEEN to a council meeting, seeing as she wasn't a cabin leader, but to Mr. D's dismay (another brat with an opinion, he'd grumbled), Chiron decided it was best she join this time around—since, eerily enough, the Oracle had addressed her, too.

The council was held around a ping-pong table in the Big House's rec room, with snacks supplied by Mr. D. The god in question and Chiron (in wheelchair form) sat at one end of the table. Zoë and Bianca di Angelo (who had sort of become Zoë's personal assistant, from the looks of it) took the other end. Silena pulled up a chair between hers and Miranda's for Naomi to squeeze in, offering her a reassuring smile when she noticed Naomi's nerves.

"Don't worry," she leaned over and whispered. "It's pretty informal here."

That wasn't hard to believe, given the Cheez-Whiz and Diet Coke provided.

On Silena's other side, Beckendorf and the Stolls sat, and across the ping-pong table was Percy, Grover, and Thalia (who was still fuming). The Ares kids were supposed to send a representative, too, but it seemed they'd all ended up in the infirmary from capture the flag.

Zoë started the meeting off with a stern, "This is pointless."

"Cheez-Whiz!" Grover gasped. He began scooping up crackers and ping-pong balls and spraying them with topping.

"There is no need for talk," Zoë continued. "Our goddess needs us. The Hunters must leave immediately."

"And go where?" Chiron asked.

"West!" Bianca said. "You heard the prophecy. 'Six shall go west to the goddess in chains.' We can get six hunters and go."

"Yes," Zoë agreed. "Artemis is being held hostage! We must find her and free her."

"In case your brain is melted from all those years of immortality, the Oracle approached Naomi, too," Silena broke in, not bothering to hide her contempt for the Huntress. "She has to go."

"Plus, the prophecy says, 'Campers and Hunters combined prevail,'" Thalia added. "We're supposed to do this together."

"No!" Zoë said. "The Hunters do not need thy help."

"Your," Thalia grumbled. "Nobody has said thy in like three hundred years, Zoë. Get with the times."

Zoë hesitated, like she was trying to form the word correctly. "Yerrr. We do not need yerrr help."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

"I fear the prophecy says you do need our help," Chiron said. "The Oracle approached a camper and a Hunter. The two groups must cooperate."

"Or do they?" Mr. D mused, swirling his Diet Coke under his nose like it was a fancy wine. "One shall be lost. One shall greet death. One shall perish. That sounds rather nasty, doesn't it? What if you fail because you try to cooperate?"

"Mr. D," Chiron sighed, "with all due respect, whose side are you on?"

Dionysus raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, my dear centaur. Just trying to be helpful."

"We're supposed to work together," Thalia said stubbornly. "I don't like it either, Zoë, but you know prophecies. You want to fight against one?"

Zoë grimaced, but it was clear Thalia had scored a point.

"Fine," she conceded. "I will accept Naomi's presence on the quest."

"It's Naomi's quest, too," Silena said with a scowl. "You don't have to accept her, she's going regardless."

This Dark Night  ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹Where stories live. Discover now