Silver Eyes | Nico di Angelo

Chapter 5: I Am Chased By Crazy Chicken Ladies

Chapter 5: I Am Chased By Crazy Chicken Ladies

The days at camp flew by. On the first day, Daniel showed me around a bit more, and he, not very surprisingly, was a much better guide than Nico. Apparently the Hermes kids had rules about pranking newbies, mostly because of a prank that hadn't gone well before. I didn't get a bucket of paint over my head, but I had the creeping trepidation that it would in fact happen someday, making me more desperate to move out of the Hermes cabin. Unfortunately, two days had passed without my dad claiming me.

Daniel told me that all I could do was patient - the gods were forgetful at times. They were also waiting, abiding for the perfect time to claim me. I decided that my dad, whoever this jerk was, was just lazy and wanted an excuse to not claim his much-a-disappointment daughter.

It was the third night sleeping when the nightmares started again. I had only started to adjust to camp life, and waking up in the middle of the night, screaming, and waking everyone up in the Hermes cabin (which was about twenty people) didn't seem to be the best ways to make friends. That would make them hate me. I wished that I could be claimed soon, at least I would know whom my half brothers and sisters were. At least it'd be more comfortable around them.

As a child, at seven, I had gotten nightmares for weeks, the same one, repeating over and over again. My mom had given me warm milk and some pills every time, and they soon faded away. She claimed that it had been a 'period of my life,' but that didn't explain why it was happening again. Especially not so shortly after the incident with the Silver Fire and the faeries. That couldn't be a coincidence...could it?

In the dream, I was sitting on something cold and hard. A rock, I assumed. It's a rock. I was blindfolded, but I could still tell that my surroundings were dark. My hands seemed to be bound together at my back, by some kind of material that sent burning pain dancing up my arm when I struggled against it. My ankles were tied together with the same kind of thing, but the tips of my feet touched something -- the fast, cold feel of moving water. I tried to flinch back, but I couldn't move.

I hated water. Despised it, especially moving water or large bodies of water. I had a huge fear of water. Even swimming pools terrified me to no end. But fast moving, possibly deep water? That was the scariest yet. I didn't want to think what would happen if I leaned forward a little too much, even if it was only a dream.

The air was chilly, and I seemed to be wearing my sleep attire: shorts and a tank top. The chill bit viciously into any exposed skin, leaving my shivering with cold. My teeth were chattering, and the rock was like a chunk of ice where my thighs were pressed against it.

Then I heard her. I hadn't heard her voice for years, not since I was seven. She never came back after that, taunting me about my possible death and things I hadn't understood back then, as a seven year old. War. Unfairness. Prejudice. How my death would balance things out. How my mother had done something to her, and I was the leverage for that being balanced out.

Clarissa Hunt. Her voice reverberated around me, sending tremors down to the bone. It seemed to echo in the cavern, or room, wherever I was. It has been a long time, do you still remember me?

I felt my teeth gnash together. "What do you want? Why are you back? What did I ever do to you?"

It was a snarl now. Justice. Revenge. Payback. Unlike her, I will wait to take my sweet time. I have patience.

"On what?" I yelled into the dark. "What did 'she' do to you? Who is 'she?' I told you, my mom didn't do anything to you!"

I could feel her presence beside me, now. When she spoke, it was a gentle whisper on my ear. Fingertips trailed down my cheeks, cupping my chin up. So delicate. So breakable. You mortals are like flowers. You look so pretty yet you die so soon. Little things break you beyond compare. The gods live in a moment, I live in a thousand. They have only ever thought about what to do for one day. I plan for a hundred. What have the gods ever given you, Clarissa, that you would choose to side with them?