04.

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On the central green, the Apollo kids were playing basketball. They were incredible shots. Nothing bounced off the rim. Three-pointers went in automatically.

"Apollo's cabin," Eden explained, scrunching up her nose. Tryhards. She loved them all, though. "Bunch of showoffs with missile weapons — arrows, basketballs. Oh shit, is Kayla there, hide me!"

"She's not there," Annabeth said tiredly. Eden ducked out of her hair and smirked as she waved. "Wassup, losers!"

They walked past a central fire pit, where two guys were hacking at each other with swords.

"Real blades?" Piper frowned. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"That's sort of the point," Annabeth said, and Eden snickered. "Uh, sorry. Bad pun. That's my cabin over there. Number Six." She nodded to a gray building with a carved owl over the door.

"Speaking of blades," Eden said brightly, taking Piper's hand, thinking absolutely nothing of it, "come here."

She and Annabeth led Piper around the side of the cabin, to the tool shed. Annabeth unlocked it, and inside was lined with all sorts of weapons — from swords to spears to clubs.

"Every demigod needs a weapon," Annabeth said. "Hephaestus makes the best, like Eden's weapons, but we have a pretty good selection, too. Athena's all about strategy — matching the right weapon to the right person. Let's see . . ."

Eden handed Piper a massive sword, which she could hardly lift.

"No," they both said at once. Eden blushed and looked away as Annabeth rummaged a little farther in the shed and brought out something else.

"A shotgun?" Piper asked.

"Mossberg 500." Annabeth said. "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt humans. It's modified to shoot Celestial bronze, so it only kills monsters."

"Um, I don't think that's my style," Piper said. "It seems like Eden's, though."

Eden frowned. Why did she think that? Because she was pretty and strong? Because she committed arson on a weekly basis? "Yeah, I guess," she shrugged. "I uh . . . already have one though. Thanks, though."

Annabeth put the shotgun back and started poking through a rack of crossbows when Piper turned to something in the corner.

"What is that?" she asked. "A knife?"

Eden dug it out and blew the dust off the scabbard. She handed it to Annabeth, who frowned at it.

"I don't know, Piper." Annabeth sounded uneasy. "I don't think you want this one. Swords are usually better."

"You use a knife." Piper pointed to the one strapped to Annabeth's belt.

"Yeah, but . . ." Annabeth shrugged. "Well, take a look if you want."

The sheath was worn black leather, bound in bronze. Nothing fancy, nothing flashy. The polished wood handle fit beautifully in Piper's hand. When she unsheathed it, Eden looked at a triangular blade eighteen inches long — bronze gleaming like it had been polished yesterday. The edges were deadly sharp.

"It suits you," Annabeth admitted. "That kind of blade is called a parazonium. It was mostly ceremonial, carried by high-ranking officers in the Greek armies. It showed you were a person of power and wealth, but in a fight, it could protect you just fine."

"I like it," Piper said. "Why didn't you think it was right?"

Annabeth exhaled, looking at Eden. "That blade has a long story. Most people would be afraid to claim it. Its first owner . . . well, things didn't turn out too well for her. Her name was Helen."

BLOODSHOT . . . piper mcleanWhere stories live. Discover now