❝ Does being a Child of Hermes automatically make you good at flirting? Or was that just a skill you picked up? ❞
Andromeda Jackson knew she was not cut out for the demigod life, and that was before she heard about her death from the creepy oracle i...
─── even i could admit that sometimes, i was wrong
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ℌow I managed to stop crying, I'm not sure. Rachel Dare, who had been in an imaginary relationship with my boyfriend, had stolen my horse.
Then, I realised that I was angry. No one stole my horse after I had just gone through one of the most emotionally distressing weeks, no four years of my life, and found out my brother was dead and expected me to be happy about it.
There was no way we were driving, the traffic was horrible, everyone was gawking at the war zone esque damage. Police sirens wailed all around. In fact, there was no way out.
So, I settled on running. Luke and Nico didn't have much choice to follow with a command for Annabeth to stay and look after the others, my parents and the wounded. We pushed through mobs of humans that crowded the sidewalks, staring and muttering in horror about what had happened. They were thinking aliens and I would have laughed if I wasn't still on the verge of tears.
"She'll never get through the defences," Luke pointed out. "Peleus will eat her."
"Good." I hissed in response. I turned to Nico. "I don't suppose you could conjure up some skeleton horses."
He wheezed as he ran, glaring at me as we made him do cardio.
"So tired...couldn't summon a dog bone."
Finally we scrambled over the embankment to the shore, and I let out a loud whistle. I hated doing it. Even with the sand dollar I'd given the East River for cleaning, the water here was pretty polluted. I didn't want to make any animal sick, but they came to my call. Three wake lines appeared in the grey water, and a pod of hippocampi broke the surface.
They whinnied unhappily, shaking the river muck from their manes. But the thing was it just reminded me of Tyson and before I could cry again, I relayed to them that we needed a ride to Camp Half-Blood. They politely agreed and took us to the shore of Camp Half-Blood, though the trip itself took far longer than I wanted it too.
We thanked the hippocampi and waded ashore, only to find Argus waiting for us. He stood in the sand with his arms crossed, his hundred eyes glaring at us.
"Is she here?" I growled. He nodded grimly.
"Is everything okay?" Luke checked as I hadn't. Argus shook his head. We followed him up the trail. It was surreal being back at camp, because everything looked peaceful: no burning buildings, no wounded fighters, no dead around us.
Up at the Big House, however, something was definitely wrong. Green light was shooting out all the windows. Mist—the magical kind—swirled around the yard. Chiron lay on a horse-size stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing around him. Blackjack cantered nervously in the grass.
