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

Chapter Ten

It was a new moon the night I finally slipped out of the Artemis cabin. I didn't bring my weapons with me, a show of trust to Dad, because he had to be watching me. Or maybe he wasn't, I'd denied him, hadn't went where he wanted when he wanted. And maybe he wouldn't show up when I stepped through my door, maybe I'd be able to go back to sleep and pretend none of this had happened.

He was sitting on my bed. Without a sound, he stood and moved me away from the door. I watched his hands, worn, scarred and rough but also strong and warm. They pressed against the wall, then fiddled with the hem of his shirt. My breath caught when he pushed my hood down and cupped my face.

He sighed, and he tilted his head to rest his forehead on mine. "You're okay." He brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones. The touch made me melt, and my eyes fluttered as I leaned into him.

"It's only been a couple days."

"Too long," he dismissed. We stood there, and he slipped his hands to my shoulders which he held in a tight grip. When the pressure disappeared, I stumbled forward, catching myself on the door.

"Rude." I shed my cloak and tossed it on the floor. The cool air cut through the sleeves of my shirt. Dad lounged on my bed, a soft smile on his face. He gestured me forward. I obeyed, and after taking off my boots, clambered on beside him. It was a weird sense of normality. it shouldn't have been. He turned on his side and kissed my head.

I whined. Faint heat rushed to my face. I turned away from him, hiding my face in my arms. Small things like that shouldn't have been enough to get me to do that. I didn't know why it was so easy for him to get me like this, maybe some power he had as a god, maybe because he's my dad, but I hated it. I didn't need more reasons to feel weak.

"Oh, my baby, my little one," he cooed. It was soft and sweet, and he pulled me into his arms. His beard was scratchy and it tickled my ear. He turned me over and pressed small kisses to my forehead. "You don't need to be embarrassed. You're allowed to be vulnerable." Before I could correct him, he added, "I won't let anything happen to you."

A shudder ran down my spine. Dad pulled a blanket over me and I snuggled into the warmth. Once I was comfy, I closed my eyes. I could feel him touching my face. His fingers ran over my cheeks and my nose, traced my eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Do you ever wonder how hard it is to wake up and realize you don't remember your child's face? That no matter how hard you try, you can never remember how they actually were? Or how your memory of them might be stained with blood and gore? Though, you probably know that one." He sighed through his nose.

My mouth was dry. I tried to wet it. I failed. "I didn't know you'd be there."

"And you begged me to kill you anyway."

"I--"

"Enough, Percy." He sounded tired, so, so tired. He rested a large hand on the back of my neck. "I just want you to be safe, that's all I want. And I can keep you that way, so trust me, okay? I just---Stay here, stay with me and let me keep you safe."

The air around me was thick, and I knew I wasn't really getting a choice. Though, I thought as I settled against Dad and he gently rubbed my back, there were far worse things---far worse gods---I could've been stuck with. Ares wouldn't rock me and hum when I sniffled, and Mr D wouldn't cradle me to his chest and let me cry.

A while later, he sat up, the sheets pooling around him, like ripples on a pond. The darkness of the room disguised most of his movements. I reached and felt for his arm. It was a dumb move, since I was still just a demigod and it was probably disrespectful to demand touch like this. Laughter shook him. Good laughter or bad?

He stroked my hair, quiet and calm and loving. I let my eyes drift shut, and my breathing slowly evened. I might've fallen asleep. It was so warm there, wrapped in a blanket against him. I didn't even care if he'd find out, I couldn't find it in me to care, because that would mean leaving. 

"You know--You know I love you, right?" he asked, voice as quiet as a breeze. In response, I pressed closer to him and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep. Pure unconscious bliss. An empty expanse of comforting darkness, that took pressure off of me and promised me respite.

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I woke to Dad's knees on my hands. "Wha- What are you--" My heart raced in my chest when I saw him unfold something. A candle flickered on my dresser, and the faint light glinted on the razor edge of a blade. "Dad?"

Nothing.

"Daddy?" I let a desperate whine slip into my voice, tears threatening to brim over. Those weren't faked.  He sighed and dusted his fingers over my skin. His weight never shifted enough for me to free myself. Water tightened around my ankles. The tears slipped down my face. What was happening? What was he doing?

"You'll hate me for this," he said, "but I can-- I can deal with that."

"Dad, what are--" In a sharp movement, he sliced his hand open. Ichor dribbled into my mouth. I jerked, choking and gagging. My shoulders burned as I struggled. I turned my head and tried to spit it out. He held my jaw shut. My eyes watered, burning. "Sh." He caressed my forehead, smearing gold over it. "Don't struggle. It won't hurt too much."

I breathed through my nose. My hands were starting to tingle, starting to go numb, starting to ruin any hope of escape. Dad's touch was a threat now. He cooed and asked me to swallow. He rubbed my throat. Mom had done that, after catching the cat living in the alley and forcing a pill in its mouth. I kept breathing through my nose.

He pinched it shut. It didn't take long for that dreaded ache to press in my lungs. I couldn't hold my breath forever.

My throat spasmed, in desperate attempts to get air but not drink. Then I swallowed. A small gulp, and then a larger one, letting all the ichor spill down my throat. I coughed then spluttered. Warmth bloomed in my stomach, and turned from comforting to an inferno that consumed. 

Screams echoed off the walls. It took too long for to realize they were mine. The pain made things hazy. Ripping, tearing, burning, burning, burning. Dad brushed his fingers through my hair. Pressure came off my hands as he moved me. My head was in his lap. He caught my hands when I tried to tear at my throat.  I could feel him, in a way I shouldn't have, he fed himself into me, bolstering and shoring up places where I was coming apart at the seams. I clung to those pieces, worked them into myself. I didn't want to.

I lay still, eyes wide but unfocused.

Someone, Dad it had to be Dad, cooed and moved me. Gentle hands tucked the blankets around my legs. He wrapped another blanket around my torso. My arms were pinned near my sides. I cried and pushed and shoved. Dad, who'd laid down again, pressed my head against his chest

"Don't move." he scolded gently. "You need to rest." He patched up a tear near my side, and took something away and wrapped it inside himself.

A half formed question fell past my lips.

He shushed me and petted my head. "Everything will be alright."

I will not apologize for this

See yah