KITTY CAME UP WITH SEVENTEEN terrible jokes about the perils of threatening the gods, squished next to Alex in the back of a school bus that one of the Stoll brothers had acquired. Stolen, to be technical.

The jokes, though. Those were pretty great. But somehow she didn't think Alex would appreciate the genius of "It's too late to Apollo-gize" or "Wow, you Arte-MISSED the opportunity to leave without making a scene."

What exactly had gone down in the Olympian throne room, Alex wouldn't say. But Kitty had been in the right place at the right time, overhearing Thalia Grace complain about "the stupidity of boys" to a couple Hunters. While Kitty generally agreed with the sentiment, and frankly preferred hanging with more sensible, female company—perks of being gay—she couldn't help thinking this was less a "boys are dumb" scenario and more "boys from the Hermes' cabin are dumb."

Connor proved her point four rows up. While Alex brooded on her right, his half-brother had fashioned a crossbow out of school supplies. Kitty watched as he ducked behind Katie in the seat ahead of him. With skill to rival the best archers from Cabin 7, who admittedly never would've dreamed of inconveniencing themselves with a crossbow over a regular bow, Connor lined up a shot at his older brother.

Apparently Travis had forgotten the number one rule of being in the same vehicle as other members of his cabin: don't get distracted. But Kitty had to forgive him. Sitting next to Valentina Díaz would distract anyone. Certainly would've distracted her. Still, he looked more interested in talking to her than she did to him though.

No one else seemed to notice, or care, that Connor settled the mini crossbow in the perfect position to poke out his brother's eye. Their chaperone didn't: some old, small, wiry satyr that Kitty couldn't have named. Two hours into their ride back to camp and it seemed they were all about ready to lose it.

But hey, fighting for their lives day and night against monsters in the heart of New York City would leave anyone a little crazy. Still, couldn't let Connor have all the fun. Kitty sat up, careful not to make noise with the cracking leather of the old bus seat.

It took almost no effort to steal some of his luck. What did take effort was not cackling when the crossbow exploded back in his face. Connor shouted as he just managed to dodge out of the way, saving his face from impalement-by-pencil by mere centimeters. Who needed a magic pen-sword when pencil impalement from stupidity and a touch of bad luck is an option?

By the time the bus rolled up to the base of Half-Blood Hill, half the campers had fallen asleep and the other half had fallen into solemn silence. Even Travis had stopped flirting with Valentina. Exhaustion had set in. The sight of Thalia's Pine Tree towering above the tall grasses of the hill, silent in the warm summer air, reminded them of everything they had lost.

And what had they gained? Kitty groaned as she stretched next to the bus. Their satyr chauffeur munched on strawberries brought over by a dryad. There were more campers to retrieve from Olympus. The wounded, mostly, along with the entire Apollo cabin that had stayed behind to help.

Kitty watched the other start up the hill. She lost a couple of the young Demeter kids in the tall grasses as they bolted towards nature. The Stolls walked side by side, hands in pockets.

The air temperature dropped as a long shadow fell across her. Kitty turned from Thalia's Tree and Peleus the dragon. Next to her, arms crossed over her chest, Ophelia stood frowning. Something had been up with her since that morning.

Ophelia hadn't said much about defending Olympus beside Hades and the other Underworld forces. Neither had Nico. Not that that was a surprise. The kid couldn't string more than five words together.

But Ophelia had never been shy. Content alone, sure. But in the year Kitty had known her, she'd been open and honest.

Something must've happened.

The bus engine roared to life, doors scraping shut as the satyr got ready to drive back. Alex stepped off last, hands across his torn and blood-stained orange camper shirt. With a scowl, he stared up the hill. Kitty followed his gaze.

Thalia's Tree.

Yeah. Definitely not touching that one. Kitty knew better than to approach anything about Zeus's daughter around Alex. When the name Thalia was involved, he didn't just get angry. He got mean. Not a good look.

She started upwards. The grass tickled her arms as she moved through it, keeping an eye on the Golden Fleece hanging from the lowest branch and the smoke from Peleus's snout trailing up, curling around the trunk. She saw Katie place her hand on the tree, first to the top. Then she disappeared over the hill, followed by a couple of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin, and finally the Stolls.

From the top of the hill, Kitty could see most of the camp. A gentle breeze that smelled of strawberries and sea salt offered her a bit of comfort as she saw the Big House, the edges of the forest, even the ruins of Zeus's Fist and the rocks peeking out adjacent to it, where Kâmpe had been buried.

Kitty looked back. Ophelia had followed her up to the top, frown dissipating as she too seemed to sense the safety of camp. But Alex lingered at the bottom, hair shining like gold in the sunlight and for the briefest moment, her breath caught in her throat. He looked so much like Luke, arms across his chest and sword sheathed at his side.

Before she realized what was happening, the world's colors bled away. Except their auras. What she saw didn't help her anxiety. Not only did a rapidly shifting glow of black and gold envelop Alex, but Ophelia too.

She closed her eyes. Feeling her heart pound in her ribcage, Kitty willed it away. She didn't know what scared her more: her friends' luck hanging in the balance, or the fact that she hadn't meant to see it.

When she opened her eyes again, the colors had returned. Peleus snorted, a gravely sound, like a groan from someone who smoked far too many packs a day. Kind of reminded her of her dad, what she remembered at least. She'd left him buried in debt and playing the slot machines on the Strip a decade ago.

Kitty started down the hill. Camp sounded so quiet. They'd lost so many, to either Kronos's scythe or to his honeyed words. She saw Blackjack nibbling at the grass near the Big House. Percy must've gotten back safely. The pegasus loved him and probably would've started a search if he hadn't. As she passed the Volleyball pits, a few Satyrs cleared up some medical supplies.

First things first. Kitty wanted a shower.

Apparently she wasn't the only one with that idea. Annabeth and another girl Kitty didn't recognize stood drying their hair outside the showers, both in clean and not torn to shreds camper tees.

The red-haired girl shook her head. "For a god of poetry, he's not very good."

Kitty hung up her towel on the outside of a stall. "I've heard horror stories. Don't ask him for a Limerick." When the other two looked her way, Kitty held out her hand. "I'm Kitty. Who are you?"

"She's our new Oracle. Rachel," Annabeth said. She sounded decidedly neutral. Too neutral.

"That's me."

"New Oracle?"

Kitty listened as Annabeth tried to explain something about a curse and the old Oracle and Rachel hijacking Blackjack, flying past Peleus without getting eaten. All that as a mortal, which Kitty had to admit was pretty impressive.

But honestly, Kitty just wanted a shower, not a ten minute explanation of the history of Delphic prophecy, the allowance of mortals in Camp Half-Blood, and Apollo's failed Haiku phase. Thanking Annabeth for the thorough history lesson, Kitty ducked into the shower for much needed relief.

She'd need to re-dye her hair soon. Too much of the brown roots were visible. But each moment spent worrying over hair color, outfit choice for the evening, and whether she could convince or blackmail Mr. D to replace the Rec Room ping pong table with a pool table distracted her from the war.

By the time she'd pulled on her black leather moto vest over her orange shirt and abandoned her bunk in o Cabin 11, she saw a few more familiar faces. Percy stood talking to Lacy near the Aphrodite cabin. The little girl's blonde pigtails shook as she tried—and failed—not to cry.

Kitty paused. Percy looked exhausted. It wasn't hard to figure out what they were talking about. Telling Lacy that Silena had died in battle with a drakon couldn't have been easy. She wondered how many other campers in the chaos of battle didn't know who had or hadn't survived.

But some things never changed. As Kitty wandered up the path to the Big House, she couldn't help but smirk. Chiron, dressed in bandages but very much alive and looking better than that morning, sat opposite Mr. D on the wooden deck.

"Gods. It's you," Mr. D muttered. "Of all the demigods to survive, of course you'd be in that bunch."

Chiron just shook his bandaged head at the god's complaining. "Kitty! How was the drive?"

The wooden steps creaked beneath her boots. Not waiting for an invitation, she settled into one of the two unoccupied chairs. "Great. Connor tried to shoot Travis with a crossbow." She leaned over the table, elbows propped up. "I stopped him."

"Darn."

Kitty smirked. She pulled bubble gum out of her pocket and started chewing. "Good to see you too, Mr. D. Miss us?"

"No."

"Great." Kitty couldn't help but snicker, grabbing a deck of cards sitting in the middle of the table. Mr. D moved his Diet Coke away from her hand. As if she'd go for that. She knew better. If she wanted to steal from him, she'd send Travis. "Calm down, Mr. D. Your soda is safe."

He just downed the last of the can before throwing it at a young satyr. Kitty would've laughed, but she felt bad for the kid. She turned to Chiron. "Heard we got a new Oracle?"

Chiron nodded. "Rachel Elizabeth Dare. A nice girl. But she'll only be here during the summer."

"How does that work?" Kitty started to shuffle the cards. A mindless task. "I mean, what if she gets a prophecy at home?"

Mr. D shrugged. "She owns a phone."

"We'll figure out the details. I'm sure Apollo will have ideas."

"Great, because his ideas are always fool proof," Mr. D said. "Do you remember his Limerick phase? Gods. I've never hated a nation so much in my life as Ireland after that." He glanced across the table. "Are you just going to shuffle?"

Kitty snorted, but she started dealing. Chiron said he wasn't up for five card draw, so as they all watched campers trickle in down Half-Blood Hill, Kitty dealt two hands for five card draw.

She picked up her cards. Even well worn, the cards spread easily in her grasp. She smiled. King of Hearts, Queen of Clubs, Queen of Spades, Jack of Diamonds, Ten of Diamonds.

Kitty stopped smiling.

She dropped the cards back onto the knotted, stained wooden table. Her hands froze a few inches off the surface. A king, a pair of queens, jack, and ten. One card away from a straight, ace high.

Again.

"What's wrong, child?" Chiron said.

Kitty drew her hands away. What were the chances of getting the exact same hand as in her dream? Unless the dream had been more prophetic than she'd thought at the time…

"Part of poker is hiding your cards," Mr. D said. "Or did someone hit you on the head in Manhattan?"

She glanced up at him. Kitty scooped up the cards, turned them towards him, and placed them on the center of the table. "Remember this?"

Mr. D put down his soda. He peered a bit closer at the cards on the wood. "Huh. Weird."

Kitty turned to Chiron, explaining her dream and that these cards were the same, down to their suits.

"That is odd, but not unheard of," Chiron reminded him. "Demigod dreams often mean more than you think in the surface." He offered a small smile, which gave her some comfort despite him being covered in splints and bandages, a rather unsettling sight. "I wouldn't worry too much."

Kitty nodded. "Right."

Mr. D glanced up from the cards. He shook his head, took another sip. "I hate demigods," he said. "Deal again."