Walk With the Shadows [ Percy Jackson OC ]

FORTY-FOUR | Kitty

KITTY'S HEAD SPUN, BOTH FROM seeing the rage on Alex's face and from the horrific out of tune viola section on her left. She'd been in many fights in her seventeen years, but as she looked at her best friend, rarely had Kitty felt as betrayed.

He knew her. Kitty hadn't changed in the last month. She'd always been a risk taker, a gambler. Pushing limits, testing boundaries, that was what she did in card games, in training sessions, at war, and on this quest. She and Alex had teamed up for years, pulling pranks on Silena—rest in peace—and Clarisse and all manner of other campers.

"I did what I always do," Kitty said. "I took a risk. They don't always work out."

Alex scoffed. He threw his head back with a humorless smirk and half a laugh. "A risk? You dropped her!"

"I didn't drop her!" Kitty couldn't suppress a half grunt, half scream in frustration. "I chose to make sure the lyre didn't fall! Besides, she went all evil and opened a door into the Underworld while floating like some demon out of a horror movie!"

Kitty could feel her whole body shaking. The ugly blending of 1980s punk and out of tune classical music only fed her fury towards Alex, towards Ophelia, towards this whole situation. When he opened his mouth, she shut him down.

"No, Alex. You shut up! This is all her fault. Ophelia's dangerous—"

He took a step forward, getting almost nose to nose with her. "We're all dangerous. But at least Ophelia knows how to defend her allies."

"I was defending the lyre!"

"What about when you let Percy hit me in the face with a river of water?" He bared his teeth. "Where were you then? Hiding like a coward."

Kitty felt her jaw drop. She backed up by a half step, dropping the lyre to the ground. "Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said." Alex closed the distance again. "You're selfish. And a coward."

"You're a traitor!" A white hot blaze of anger filled her chest. Kitty felt her cheeks burning. Her breaths got shorter and shorter. Hands empty, lyre on the ground, she punched Alex across the jaw.

Kitty grabbed her hand to her chest. Her knuckles ached and tears steamed down her cheeks. This didn't make any sense! She'd never punched anyone in her life. She'd aired her grievances with Alex a year ago when they'd returned.

The golden glow of the lyre in the ash and dirt beside them splashed a bit of light on Alex as he cradled his face. He didn't respond. In fact, he didn't even look at her. Kitty followed his gaze.

The viola section had each other in headlocks. The trombonists were ganging up on a single bassoonist and beating her into the blood covered stage. Screaming arguments surrounded them.

This didn't make sense. Alex wasn't a traitor. Not anymore. He'd been ready to die and to kill for Camp Half-Blood. What had she called him a traitor?

Why had a flutist kneeled over the writhing body of a young violinist and used her instrument to strangle him?