These Lifeless Things || p. jackson

I. The Obvious Art

XIAO WONDERED HOW MANY TIMES Chiron had heard reports like hers. As the immortal director of Camp Half-blood, the training grounds for children of the gods, he must've heard a lot of fucked up shit. Xiao prided herself on making him look like he'd just tried to swallow a boulder.

"I'm sorry, dear," he said, his tone exhausted, "which labyrinth exit did you come out of again?"

"Somewhere in New Jersey," she repeated. "I stayed at a hotel for a night and got a taxi here."

He didn't ask how she paid for it. When it came to demigods, it was better for him to ignore logistics like that—it usually involved threatening mortals with knives, anyway.

"And who did you say you ran into?"

Xiao tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. "No one. I haven't seen Clarisse since we got separated, and it's just been monsters since."

"Right. Apologies, my dear." Chiron folded his hands. He didn't say anything for a long time, and Xiao leaned back in her chair, leaning towards the hearth that crackled in the other room. The air smelled like hot chocolate. The remains of a card game, left alone from the moment she stepped inside, were strewn on the table. Her parasol leaned against it, just out of reach.

Chiron's brown beard was shaggier for the winter. His curly hair had grown a little longer. He wasn't posing as a teacher this year, so he could afford to be casual. He wore a fuzzy sweater with a hoofprint design on it, and he had a blanket on his lap that almost hid his wheelchair completely. Finally, he nodded to himself and leaned back. "Clarisse is resilient. We will have to hope she is strong enough to make it back on her own time."

The labyrinth wasn't an easy place to navigate, though. In fact, Xiao would go as far as to say it was quite improbable you'd ever get to the place you wanted to go in there. The chances that Clarisse would make it back intact? Doubtful.

She felt the presences of three separate heartbeats before Chiron even began to smile. She turned in her chair, arm slung over the back as she watched everyone.

Thalia entered first—the goth daughter of Zeus who was said to preserve or raze Olympus very soon. Quite exciting. She had those punk clothes that were ripped and black, her jacket full of band sewn on patches. Her eyes were underlined with eyeliner and her eyes were electric blue.

Percy Jackson was next, their resident son of Poseidon. He was Xiao's age, she was pretty sure. He had messy black hair and sea green eyes—a trait passed down from his father, she'd wager. Xiao had had the absolute pleasure of hearing him and Annabeth in an argument a couple months ago and hearing his voice crack like a broken flute. He set his eyes on her, and she felt the rush of anger in his brain, his heart speeding up. There were other emotions in there too, but they were such small quantities she didn't care to consentrate on them. She waved at him.

She didn't know the last kid—probably a new acquisition. He was young, maybe twelve, and looked at everything like it was new and amazing. His hair was a mop of blackness, and he wore an aviator jacket much too big for him.

Chiron wiped the worry for his expression instantly. "Percy! Thalia! Ah, and this must be—"

"Nico di Angelo," Percy said. "He and his sister are half-bloods."

Chiron breathed a sigh of relief. "You succeeded, then."

"Well..."

His smile melted. "What's wrong? And where is Annabeth?"

Xiao narrowed her eyes. She had looked for her friend just as she got into camp, but was told she was on an extraction mission and would be back in a few hours. She hadn't had time to consider that something bad could happen to her.