The Hunt for Life (Fem Percy Guardian of the Hunt)

Chapter Eight

Silent footsteps carried me to the door, Dad's eyes drilling into my back. He was searching for answers, ones I wouldn't give. He wouldn't like the answers I had said, and that was true. They were worse than what he thought, worse if only because he'd put pieces together. My hand rested on the cold doorknob, and it rattled as I turned it. Just before I could open the door, he spoke.

"Come back here." Maybe I would've ignored him, maybe I could've, if only his voice hadn't wavered. If he'd been as cold and as distant as would befit a god, if he hadn't seemed upset, if it didn't seem like he actually gave a fuck about me. My hand curled, my knuckles turned white around the doorknob. I risked a glance back. Shoulders down, hat in his hand, he looked like I'd kicked his puppy. The bed creaked as he stood, and his careful steps led to him standing behind me. A hand on my shoulder, a hand like a heavy weight.

"Percy," he said softly. Before he could continue, I turned to kiss his cheek.

"I should go find--"

Dad draped his arms over my shoulders and pulled me back. My shoulder ached like it had when I played tug-of-war with Mrs O'Leary. A tingling feeling spread over my body, and my clothes glimmered with a soft light. Cold air, a soft sea breeze, brushed against my now exposed shoulders and legs. I let myself be guided back to my bed.

I sat.

Eyes scanning over the scars, Dad held his hands together. A good thing, probably. He'd wreck something otherwise. The longer he looked, the more time my unease had to grow. It festered under my skin, hiking my shoulders around my ears.

"How long?" asked Dad.

I blinked. It was so easy for him to break the silence. So easy for him to ask questions. That's what you get, I guess, when talking with a god. I licked my lips, turned my eyes down. "I don't know why you didn't expect this. I mean, I asked you to kill me. I had a plan set in place. I had everything laid out, and you didn't think that I'd do something like this?" Over half of a month. I'd spent so long arranging everything, getting ready, preparing myself, making up lies and cover stories, telling everyone I wanted to do a quest for whatever reason I came up with. I wanted to do a quest to prove myself to Dad, prove that I was good enough to be considered his kid after everything.

"Little one, you need to remember, this isn't something normal for me to deal with. It isn't something I expected to deal with. As you've said, I'm a god. And as a god, I don't process things the same way you do. Just the same way you don't process things the same way a mortal does. But just because our experiences don't line up the same way, that doesn't mean that we don't have our highs and lows. Really, it just means that we learn to push through the lows because there's bound to be a high somewhere. They come and go like the tides."

A weathered hand outreached, he continued to look over the scars. His hand fell away, and a crease appeared between his brows.

I wondered for a moment what he was looking at, what had him concerned. Which was dumb. The entire thing was dumb. The thought, the fact he was concerned about me, all of it.

His hand grasped my arm, his thumb drew across the scarred words.

"This is part of life, Percy. Your thoughts and things you cannot control don't--"

I groaned and pulled my arm free. "I don't care." Part of me did. He was falling for it. Dad didn't try to stop me as I shoved my arms into the cloak's sleeves. The clasp clicked together. "And isn't there some sort of law about not interacting with your demigod children or something?" I snapped at him. Dad pressed his lips into a thin line.

"As far--" he leaned forward "--as my brother is concerned, this is inconsequential. You are going to die in less than a year's time. You are bound to the Hunt, you are a demigod only to the two of us. I have broken that law many times throughout the years, and I don't see why you're concerned about it now."

"You know why he's really doing this, right?" He doesn't want to lose a weapon, Dad!" I said, throwing my hands out in front of me. "He doesn't want to lose one of the few weapons that won't turn against him, so he's hoping you'll talk me out of wanting to die. Why else would he not have agreed to kill me on Olympus? You wouldn't have a right to start a war, wouldn't have the basis to start a feud. He wants me alive so if something happens I can stop it. And it's not going to work, so just stop trying."

Stormy green eyes flashed. Dad leaned in close to me. It was hard to resist the urge, the want, the yearning. He's safe, my mind whispered, he'll protect you, he gives good hugs.

"And what would happen if Thalia would discover your identity and the reasons behind it? She's not an idiot, as much as she's my brother's child. Would you accuse her of the same? Accuse her of wanting to keep you around to keep people safe, to make her father happy?" There was an edge to his voice, a razor's blade. Shivers ran down my spine.

"If anyone finds out about this, if you tell them or Zeus tells them or something, I'm going to kill myself," I growled. "It's what I've wanted and all it would do is give me more motivation to find a way to do it." I stood. My vision swam. Even as it darkened, I took unsteady steps towards the door. "So if you want the smallest chance of me choosing to live, you probably shouldn't do anything you might regret. Oh, who am I kidding. You're a god."

I yanked the door open, hinges squealing. Hood up and eyes scanning over campers, I walked towards the archery range. Arrows burrows into targets with thuds. Silver jackets filled nearly every spot, yet not one of them was Artemis. I should've stayed there, but I couldn't risk it. I still couldn't shoot well. And I was bad enough that if I tried, someone would recognize me. Shaking my head, I wandered aimlessly. Artemis and Hestia chatted near the fire. I ignored them. I ignored them, but walked close enough to hear the language going too, too fast to understand.

I frowned and walked away. Water shimmered with the sun's rays as campers paddled around. Naiads rocked a few of the canoes, dumping children in with screeches and laughter. Tension leached from my shoulders the longer I stood there. The humidity was nice. Grass crunched behind me; my hand rested on the hilt.

"Are you going to play tonight?"

I sighed, and my hand fell away to dangle loosely. Harley. A hopeful look resided on his face, only to be smothered by my not-a-reply. Fabric billowed behind me as I walked away. Nyssa would murder me if she ever found out. I found myself wandering back to the archery range, not really having any other place to go. I stood beside Artemis, slightly behind her and to her left. And I waited.

My patience was rewarded, but it was something I didn't want. "You're playing with the Hunters," said Artemis. 

I have class now

See yah