chapter twenty-nine

─── orange is really my colour, and i suit jumpsuits

          𝔑ow, I loved the idea of having another sibling, but Tantalus was ruining all of it for me. I did really, really, want to kill him but Luke had reminded me that he was immortal and camp director and some of the gods already didn't truly like me that much, so this would not help. 

Unfortunately, he was correct.

Tyson moved into Three, giggling to himself every fifteen seconds and saying, "Romy is my sister?" like he'd just won the lottery, which was actually really sweet. But, my brain was sort of on overdrive.

My father, who was supposedly married, had not only fathered me but also Tyson? He seemed to like blurring his wedding vows, and I felt really sorry for his wife. 

Also, there was everything else. Tantalus was making it his life mission to make some snide comment about Tyson or me every time I saw him, or was in hearing range. It was grating on my nerves, which was kind of surprising, considering it took a lot to annoy me most of the time. Luke had been an absolute godsend, trying his best to include Tyson when the camp did something, despite his hatred of cyclops.

But, I admit—I was angry at my dad. I felt like being his daughter was now a joke. Tantalus' comments were finally starting to get to me, more than usual, more than any of Gabe's abuse had.

Annabeth tried to make me feel better. She suggested we team up for the chariot race to take our minds off our problems. There was nothing we could do about any of it, which was also infuriating. Until we could come up with some brilliant plan to save Thalia's tree, we figured we might as well go along with the races. After all, Annabeth's mom had invented the chariot, and my dad had created horses. Together we would own that track.

Plus, both of us wanted to beat Luke quite spectacularly, who was racing with Eleven.

One morning, Annabeth and I were sitting by the canoe lake sketching chariot designs when some jokers from Aphrodite's cabin walked by and asked me if I needed to borrow some eyeliner for my eye. "Oh sorry, eyes."

I kissed my teeth, ignoring them as they walked away laughing at their little joke.

"I'm really sorry, Romy," Annabeth murmured. "This doesn't seem all that fair to you and Tantalus has just singled you out for no reason, other than you're the daughter of Poseidon."

"It's alright," I replied, looking back at our chariot. "It's not the first time I've been singled out, won't be the last. Now, the axle for the chariot-"

"Yeah, but it's wrong." Annabeth cut me off.

"You reacted similarly the first time you saw him as well," I reminded her gently, my pencil behind my ear. "Everyone treats him like he's this terrible thing. He did save my life, and everyone else's."

"It's just cyclops'..." She trailed off, tugging at the end of her braids as she thought.

"I know," I squeezed her shoulders. "You don't like cyclops."

"What are you two talking about?" We both looked up as Luke made an appearance, carrying his armor in one hand and his sword in the other. I had to blink a few times, staring at him as Annabeth hissed.

"Our chariot! Go away!" She threw her hands over the paper, sticking her tongue out as I was snapped out of my admiration to laugh. But, it was only when I saw Luke's face that I stopped.

"Tantalus made a new rule." He muttered.

"Let me guess. No inter cabin alliances?"

"Yup," Annabeth and I groaned, before I stood up and patted her head.

"You have it. I'll make another one with Tyson." I stood and walked off, not wanting to speak to anyone now, not even my boyfriend.

The next couple of days, I tried to keep my mind off of the problems, that were slowly growing. 

Silena Beauregard gave me my first riding lesson on a Pegasus. Normally, I avoided flying because that was my uncle's domain, but riding a winged horse felt different. I wasn't as nervous, but pegasi were sort of a neutral territory. My dad had crafted them from sea foam, and it meant I could understand them, so I got used to them.

The problem was that Tyson wanted to ride too, but the pegasi got skittish whenever he approached. I told them, as best I could, that Tyson wouldn't hurt them, but they didn't seem to believe me. That made Tyson cry.

The only person at camp who had no problem with Tyson was Beckendorf from Nine. The blacksmith god had always worked with Cyclopes in his forges, so Beckendorf took Tyson down to the armoury to teach him metalworking. He said he'd have Tyson crafting magic items like a master in no time.

After lunch, I worked out with Luke. Swordplay was one of my greatest strength now and I was better at it, supposedly, than any camper in the last hundred years with the small exception of Luke. I was slowly starting to be able to beat Luke easier, both of us laughing as we fought. 

This was one of the highlights of my day, being able to compete with no judgement. Getting to spend time with my boyfriend was definitely a plus.

I went to archery class with the Apollo cabin, though it wasn't the same without Chiron teaching. In arts and crafts, I started a marble bust of Poseidon, but art's not my strong point. I scaled the climbing wall in full lava-and-earthquake mode. And in the evenings, I did border patrol. Even though Tantalus had insisted we forget trying to protect the camp, Luke had organised a border patrol for the older campers in our free time.

I sat at the top of Half-Blood Hill and watched the dryads come and go, singing to the dying pine tree. Satyrs brought their reed pipes and played nature magic songs, and for a while the pine needles seemed to get fuller. The flowers on the hill smelled a little sweeter and the grass looked greener. But as soon as the music stopped, the sickness crept back into the air. The whole hill seemed to be infected, dying from the poison affected it. 

The longer I sat there, the angrier I got.

Kronos had done this. He'd manipulated a sixteen year old boy into poisoning the tree. Puck had been someone I knew and liked, until he'd tried to kill me, and his older sister Brooke had gone home to tell his father about what Puck had done. I hadn't seen her since the end of last summer.

She'd gone very quiet after Puck's betrayal took place, closing herself off from the others as much as Luke and I had tried to prevent it. But the betrayal ran deep.

∘☽༓☾∘

At night, I had more dreams of Grover. Sometimes, I just heard snatches of his voice. Once, I heard him say: It's here. Another time: He likes sheep. I thought about telling Annabeth about my dreams, but she would've thought I was crazy.

I did tell Luke because he already thought that I was crazy and there was nothing I could do to change that.

The night before the race, Tyson and I finished our chariot. It was wicked cool. Tyson had made the metal parts in the armoury's forges. I'd sanded the wood and put the carriage together. It was blue and white, with wave designs on the sides and a trident painted on the front. 

Tyson was riding shot gun with me, and I was just hoping that the horses would behave for it.

As we were turning in for bed, Tyson said, "You are mad?"

I realized I'd been scowling. "Nah. I'm not mad."

He lay down in his bunk and was quiet in the dark. His body was way too long for his bed. When he pulled up the covers, his feet stuck out the bottom. "I am a monster."

"Don't say that."

"It is okay. I will be a good monster. Then you will not have to be mad."

I didn't know what to say. I stared at the ceiling and felt like I was dying slowly, right along with Thalia's tree.

"It's just...I never had a sibling before." I tried to keep my voice from cracking, because it's all I'd ever wanted. "It's really different for me. And I'm worried about the camp. And another friend of mine, Grover, might be in trouble. I keep feeling like I should be doing something to help, but I don't know what."

Tyson said nothing.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "It's not your fault. I'm mad at Poseidon. Sometimes, it feels hard to be good enough for him and I don't understand why."

I heard a deep rumbling sound. Tyson was snoring.

I sighed. "Good night, big guy."

And I closed my eyes, too.

In my dream, Grover was wearing a wedding dress. 

It didn't fit him very well. The gown was too long and the hem was caked with dried mud. The neckline kept falling off his shoulders. A tattered veil covered his face. He was standing in a dank cave, lit only by torches. He was staring right at me, like I was a TV program he'd been waiting for. 

"Thank the gods!" he yelped. "Can you hear me?"

"Child marriage is illegal, Grover. Thought you knew better." I mumbled, still feeling sleepy as I looked around.

"Romy?" Grover said. "Please, I don't have the strength to project any better. You have to hear me!"

"I hear you. Just thinking of good lawyers to help you out."

From behind the boulder, a monstrous voice yelled, "Honeypie! Are you done yet?"

Grover flinched, before calling out in falsetto; "Not quite, dearest! A few more days!"

"Bah! Hasn't it been two weeks yet?"

"N-no, dearest. Just five days. That leaves twelve more to go."

The monster was silent, maybe trying to do the math. He must've been worse at arithmetic than I was, because he said, "All right, but hurry! I want to see under that veil, heh-heh-heh."

Grover turned back to me. "You have to help me! No time! I'm stuck in this cave. On an island in the sea."

"Where?"

"I don't know exactly! I went to Florida and turned left." Poor decision to go to Florida in the first place if you asked me.

"Huh?"

"It's a trap!" Grover said. "It's the reason no satyr has ever returned from this quest. He's a shepherd, Romy! And he has it. Its nature magic is so powerful it smells just like the great god Pan! The satyrs come here thinking they've found Pan, and they get trapped and eaten by Polyphemus!"

"Who?"

"The Cyclops!" Grover said, exasperated. "I almost got away. I made it all the way to St. Augustine."

"But he followed you," I said, remembering my first dream. "And trapped you in a bridal boutique."

"That's right," Grover said. "My first empathy link must've worked then. Look, this bridal dress is the only thing keeping me alive. He thinks I smell good, but I told him it was just goat-scented perfume. Thank goodness he can't see very well. His eye is still half blind from the last time somebody poked it out. But soon he'll realize what I am. He's only giving me two weeks to finish the bridal train, and he's getting impatient!"

"Wait a minute. This Cyclops thinks you're—"

"Yes!" Grover wailed. "He thinks I'm a lady Cyclops and he wants to marry me!"

I didn't do well in serious situations at the best of time, so the urge to laugh was there, but Grover was scared, so I didn't.

"I'll come rescue you," I promised. "Where are you?"

"The Sea of Monsters, of course!"

"The sea of what? You know, don't bother, I'll ask Luke."

"I told you! And look, Romy...urn, I'm really sorry about this, but this empathy link...well, I had no choice. Our emotions are connected now. If I die..."

"Don't tell me, I'll die too."

"Oh, well, perhaps not. You might live for years in a vegetative state. But, uh, it would be a lot better if you got me out of here."

"Honeypie!" the monster bellowed. "Dinnertime! Yummy yummy sheep meat!"

Grover whimpered. "I have to go. Hurry!"

"Wait! You said 'it' was here. What?"

But Grover's voice was already growing fainter. "Sweet dreams. Don't let me die!"

The dream faded and I woke with a start. It was early morning. Tyson was staring down at me, his eye full of concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just a bad dream."

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees and I was worried for the paint job on the chariot.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes.

There were rows of stone steps for the spectators— Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate eclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus sneered at us. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron—even the horses. I had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.

The Ares chariot was blood red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys, shooting me a confident grin. I rolled my eyes and laughed at her.

Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers. Luke had let them have free reign, and I was starting to wonder whether he was trying to get everyone killed.

That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by me.

Luke was by my side, and I quickly finished telling him about my dream with Grover.

"Empathy link?" He whistled. "That's some heavy stuff, Andi."

"Yeah, kind of got that from the whole death bit," I replied, before looking up at the stands. "Looks like it's about to start, wish me luck."

"Good luck, no killing anyone."

"I would never," Luke raised an eyebrow. "So, I might but I won't."

"Good," He waved, before disappearing into the stands to sit with the remainder of his cabin, as I jumped onto the back of the chariot.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

The birds were screeching louder now and my gut was telling me that something was wrong. I didn't like this. Tyson was having trouble getting our horses under control. I had to talk to them a long time before they would settle down.

He's a monster, lady! they complained to me.

He's a son of Poseidon, I told them. He's my brother.

No! they insisted. Monster! Horse-eater! Not trusted!

I'll give you sugar cubes at the end of the race, I said.

Sugar cubes?

Very big sugar cubes. And apples. Did I mention the apples?

Finally they agreed to let me harness them.

Now, if you've never seen a chariot, it's built for speed, not safety or comfort. It's basically a wooden basket, open at the back, mounted on an axle between two wheels. The driver stands up the whole time, and you can feel every bump in the road. The carriage is made of such lightwood that if you wipe out making the hairpin turns at either end of the track, you'll probably tip over and crush both the chariot and yourself. 

Let me tell you, I loved this game so much.

I took the reins and maneuvered the chariot to the starting line. I gave Tyson a ten-foot pole and told him that his job was to push the other chariots away if they got too close, and to deflect anything they might try to throw at us.

"No hitting ponies with the stick," he insisted.

"No," I agreed. "Hit people though. We're gonna win this race."

"We will win.'" He beamed, as I held my hand up for him to high-five.

As the chariots lined up, more birds gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the campers in the stands were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.

Almost immediately there was a loud nasty crack! I looked back in time to see the Apollo chariot flip over. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it—maybe by mistake, maybe not. The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track. Travis and Connor were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust.

Oh, Luke was gonna hate that.

I turned my attention back to the front. We were making good time, pulling ahead of Ares, but Annabeth's chariot was way ahead of us. She was already making her turn around the first post, her javelin man grinning and waving at us, shouting: "See ya!"

The Hephaestus chariot was starting to gain on us, too. Beckendorf pressed a button, and a panel slid open on the side of his chariot.

"Sorry, Romy!" he yelled. Three sets of balls and chains shot straight toward our wheels. They would've wrecked us completely if Tyson hadn't whacked them aside with a quick swipe of his pole. He gave the Hephaestus chariot a good shove and sent them skittering sideways while we pulled ahead.

"Nice work, Tyson!" I yelled.

"Birds!" he cried.

"What?"

We were whipping along so fast it was hard to hear or see anything, but Tyson pointed toward the woods and I saw what he was worried about. The birds were spiraling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track.

I tried to concentrate on the race, praying for good things.

We made our first turn, the wheels creaking under us, the chariot threatening to tip, but we were now only ten feet behind Annabeth. If I could just get a little closer, Tyson could use his pole....

Annabeth's fighter wasn't smiling now. He pulled a javelin from his collection and took aim at me. He was about to throw when we heard the screaming.

Thousands of them dive-bombing the spectators in the stands, attacking the other chariots. Beckendorf was mobbed. His fighter tried to bat the birds away but he couldn't see anything. The chariot veered off course and ploughed through the strawberry fields, the mechanical horses steaming.

Clarisse barked an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter's hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.

The spectators weren't so lucky. The birds were slashing at any bit of exposed flesh, driving everyone into a panic. Now that the birds were closer, it was clear they weren't normal pigeons. Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and judging from the yelps of the campers, they must've been razor sharp.

They were demonic.

"Stymphalian birds!" Annabeth yelled. I was close. She slowed down and pulled her chariot alongside mine. "They'll strip everyone to bones if we don't drive them away!"

"Tyson," I said, "we're turning around!"

"Going the wrong way?" he asked.

"We're going to help," I grumbled, but I steered the chariot toward the stands.

Annabeth rode right next to me. She shouted, "Heroes, to arms!" But I wasn't sure anyone could hear her over the screeching of the birds and the general chaos.

I held my reins in one hand and managed to draw Riptide as a wave of birds dived at my face, their metal beaks snapping. I slashed them out of the air and they exploded into dust and feathers, but there were still millions of them left. One nailed me in the back and I almost jumped straight out of the chariot, the pain reminiscent of the hellhound last year.

Annabeth wasn't having much better luck. The closer we got to the stands, the thicker the cloud of birds became.

Some of the spectators were trying to fight back. The Athena campers were calling for shields. The archers from Apollo's cabin brought out their bows and arrows, ready to slay the menace, but with so many campers mixed in with the birds, it wasn't safe to shoot. I couldn't see Luke in the cloud, but I hoped he was alright.

"Too many!" I yelled to Annabeth. "How do you get rid of them?"

She stabbed at a pigeon with her knife. "Hercules used noise! Brass bells! He scared them away with the most horrible sound he could—" Her eyes got wide. "Romy...Chiron's collection!"

I understood instantly. "You think it'll work?"

She handed her fighter the reins and leaped from her chariot into mine like it was the easiest thing in the world. "To the Big House! It's our only chance!"

Clarisse has just pulled across the finish line, completely unopposed, and seemed to notice for the first time how serious the bird problem was.

"You're running? The fight is here!" She called as we crossed paths.

"Noise!" I called in response, before motioning to the cloud. "Keep them distracted." She drew her sword and charged for the stands.

I urged our horses into a gallop. The chariot rumbled through the strawberry fields, across the volleyball pit, and lurched to a halt in front of the Big House. Annabeth and I ran inside, tearing down the hallway to Chiron's apartment.

His boom box was still on his nightstand. So were his favourite CDs. I grabbed the most repulsive one I could find, Annabeth snatched the boom box, and together we ran back outside.

Down at the track, the chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair, while Tantalus chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry.'"

We pulled up to the finish line. Annabeth got the boom box ready. I prayed the batteries weren't dead. I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favourite—the All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin.

Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.

The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skyward in a huge dark wave.

"Archers, to your mark!" I thundered across the commotion.

With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Most of them could notch five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon.

The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks. I looked around, seeing Luke in the crowd. He was covered in scratches, his back nearly torn to shreds from protecting the younger kids in the Hermes cabin.

"Bravo!" Tantalus said, but he wasn't looking at me or Annabeth. "We have our first winner!" He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse, who shook her head. Then he turned and smiled at me. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."

My face dropped.

∘☽༓☾∘

Hiya,

Andi is just considering murder at every possible opportunity, which we love. Also, her and Clarisse just being done with Tantalus is about to bring me a lot of joy.

Let me know what you think,

Love Li xx