Diabolic Clockwork

When I woke up, my head was in a daze. My eyes were bleary and my head was matted with a dried, sticky substance - blood. My mouth was dry and It took me all of five minutes to realize I was lying in a concrete alley. I turned my head to side and my eyes fluttered open just slightly. My contacts fell out sometime during last night.

Last night.

What happened? The strange thing was, I remembered it perfectly. Not bits and pieces, just everything. This young kid with a smart mouth was battling a minion of Hades. And I saw it. Greek mythology was fake. That’s why they called it mythology. So, the question was: how much danger did I put myself into now?

My head was still tilted towards the opening of the alley, where I saw that familiar sidewalk I trailed down every day with Rachel after school. The sun was just rising, but for all I know, it could have been setting. Who knows how long I’ve been out.

My eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head when I felt a wave of nausea come over me upon seeing blood caking my fingertips. I willed myself to get on the palms of my hands and lift myself from the concrete, every fiber of my being telling me to lay back down. I felt someone holding back my hair as I vomited near the wall.

My mouth burned and my eyes watered. My hands trembled as I let myself fall against the dirt again. A celestial bronze knife lay in front of me, shimmering in the orange sunlight and dried with monster blood. I turned my head over and saw the kid from last night let go of my hair.

I saw his dark brown eyes more clearly now. They were tired. All traces of annoyance and anger from last night was gone. “I’m Nico,” He said in a quiet voice. “Nico Di’ Angelo. I’d offer you a hand, but… it’s kind of gross.” He held out his hand, covered in soot and monster blood.

I forced my cracked, dry lips open and rolled over onto my back. “You have some explaining to do.”

He paused, looking down and the concrete, his cheeks flushing with sadness, only because when he looked back up, his young eyes were glistening with tears. “My sister died because of what happened. You know Greek mythology? The Gods?”

I nodded weakly, my one hand wrapped around my stomach in fear I’d puke again.

“And how the Gods and Goddesses sometimes have children with mortals? They call them demigods,” He took a deep breath and wiped one tear with the ball of his hand. “And I’m a demigod. And I think you are, too.”

Time stopped. My heartbeat was thrumming in my ears and another wave of nausea felt like it was traveling up my throat. Everything I knew, thought, hoped and dreamed of was a lie. I wasn’t a girl from a rich family anymore in New York. One of my parent’s was a Greek God.

Time out.

“How do you even know?” I demanded, wishing I could get up from the ground finally and knock this kid in the jaw.

“Because, I think someone told me there was this thing…” He trailed off, pursing his lips and glancing at the sky. “The Mist. Yeah. The Mist distorts human eyes from others. Demigods can see through The Mist. That’s why you saw the Cerberus last night.”

Time in.

So, fifty percent human, fifty percent Greek god. It was too frightening to be cool. I clamped my hand over my mouth and swallowed any residue that tasted like puke. The Nico kid looked at me to evaluate my expression. “I don’t know who I’m the child of, either. I just ran away from the stupid Camp Half-Blood for the demigods. It’s the only place we’re safe.”

Time was slowing again. I scramble up as best as I can before I’m sitting fully on my butt. I rest my forehead on my knees and focus on breathing as slow as I could. It couldn’t happen. It just wasn’t possible. “Why’d you leave?” I asked quietly.

“Someone… promised me he’d protect my sister while they went on a quest to save his girlfriend. He claims it’s not but - I’m getting off track. But he broke the promise when she was killed because of him. I couldn’t stay there.” His face was streaked with tears.

I wish I had enough energy to get up and hug him, or maybe just find the voice to reassure him, but somehow I couldn’t. I could tell my cushy lifestyle was about to be traded for something more dangerous. And something was telling me I had to get to that Camp. But after what Nico told me, I really didn’t feel like walking through the gates of Hell just yet.

“I have to go,” He said quickly. He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen and scrawled on it. “Here’s my number, and the address to the camp. Maybe I’ll see you around. I’ll be in New York for a few days.”

All I could do was nod.

“Nice meeting you…” He trailed off, eyebrows raised.

“Fallon,” I said quickly. “Grey.”

“Nice to meet you, Fallon Grey.” He tipped his head in a gentlemanly way and jogged out of the alley. And finally, I was alone, next to a pile of vomit. I blinked and forced myself to my feet slowly. I held onto the wall, my hands and feet shaking. My legs were tingling and I grabbed the hilt of the knife the entire time.

It took me a good five minutes to get back to my house. When I walked in, everything was silent. Mom was probably sleeping alone, my dad was still on his business trip. Typical dad. If that’s what I should even call them. Tiffany and Drew.

I nearly crawled up the stairs at the pace of a snail. I caught a glimpse at the clock. It was nearly two hours before I should be waking up for school. I considered ditching, because I was in no position to be going to school. But I needed to talk to Rachel.

When I made it into my bathroom, I stripped off all my clothes and sat in the shower, feeling the warm water traveling down my back. I sat on the tiles, curled in in a ball with my knees to my chest, leaning against the wall that separated the shower from the bathtub. My eyes were half open as I blinked blankly through the glass. My body still trembled under the hot water. My hair was hanging in my eyes and watched as bloody water was slick against my skin until it swirled like a tornado on the tiles until it was finally dissolved in the drain.

It must have been the longest shower I’ve taken, because when I was finished, I was cleaned and all blood and dirt was finally off me and the sun was at the point in the sky where I should have been waking up on any normal day. I’d been in the shower for nearly an hour and a half.

I dressed as best as I could over my dressed wounds, but it was hard to cover up the nasty scratch on my cheekbone. I covered it slightly with makeup, but it was still visible. Hopefully the “Mist” will cover up monster scratches. But I highly doubted it.

I dressed in my white and gray striped v-neck and my fuzzy black sweatpants. I sat on my bed and held the dirty, tattered Black Keys sweatshirt. I didn’t want to throw it out now it was so ugly looking. So I folded it gently and limped down to the laundry room and set it on top of the washer, reminding myself to clean it.

I had no appetite for breakfast when I was finished getting ready, but I needed the energy, so I forced myself to eat as much as I could, two pieces of toast, water, a few pieces of bacon, orange juice, and when I had enough will power to open my eyes fully, a coke. Sugar was what I needed.

I pulled on my leather jacket and slung my backpack over my shoulder, feeling the muscles in my arm protest. Tightening a bandage on my wrist, I pulled down the sleeve and opened the door before anyone heard me. The process was slow and steady as I made my way down the steps and to the corner, not daring to look at the alley where my vomit was still lying.

A breeze of difference washed over me as I sat on the curb for my bus stop. It wasn’t the same as it was every morning. The air was different, and somehow, right. I knew who I was now - sort of. But there were so many questions that tempted me to just hide in the dark away from all of it. I only knew I silver of who I really was. And that was what scared me.

I stood slowly as the bus pulled up. I resumed a seat In the front and looked into my lap the reminder of the short bus ride to the school. The morning went normally, but slowly, due to the fact I was still in pain and my mind was somewhere else. Walking into homeroom, Rachel was staring down at her note pad and working on a new sketch.

I took my seat by her and it took a good few seconds before she looked at me. Her eyes were as tired as mine felt and she we were both wearing our glasses again. We looked the same, but she wasn’t covered in bruises and wounds and her hair looked presentable, the way it always did. She wore her paint-splattered t-shirt and ripped up jeans. This was Rachel. But this wasn’t me.

“What the hell happened to you?” She demanded.

My head was lying on the desk and I could feel myself dozing off. Then the frightening fact came to me was that I may have gotten a concussion. So I forced my eyes open and Rachel’s eyes were piercing at me harder than any bruise that stained my skin.

“Fallon,” She said, standing up and taking my throbbing head in her hands. She sat me up straight and looked me in the eyes. “What happened to you?”

My lips parted, but no sound came out. There was no way I was going to tell Rachel what I saw last night. She’d think I was going crazy. Or maybe I was going crazy. “I got in a fight.” I said lamely. “But I’m fine, it’s cool.” It nearly took all the breath out of me just to say that sentence.

“You were out last night?” She said, eyes widening in concern.

It was my turn to look confused. “Why?”

“Nothing.” She said quickly, snapping her sketch book shut, never taking her eyes off me.

I didn’t pursue the conversation any further, so I just turned in my seat and focused on the board. The breeze was definitely different, because now it felt like Rachel and I were both hiding something from each other. And I didn’t like it.

**

When I got home, my Dad had just walked in. As I was half way up the stairs, he called, “Fallon, my girl!”

I turned slowly, seeing my Dad standing at the end of the steps with a big, plastered and fake white smile. He held out his arms, like he expected me to come running into them. I just stared back, my face stone. I could feel my eyes drooping. “Well, don’t just stand there,” He said cheerfully, not even noticing my battle injuries. “Come here in these arms!”

It was like asking a bear to just rip your face off.

But I just stood there. He dropped his arms. “Not up for it? Okay. How about you, me and mom go out for a dinner tonight? Me and Mr. Dare landed a huge investment and we’re up for it.”

Rachel was coming?

“That little red-headed trouble-maker can come, too.” He allowed.

I nodded silently.

“It’s all set.” He said happily. “Be ready by seven!”

**

I took a second shower because I felt like I needed it, just to remove all the band-aids and gauze pads and scrub the medicine off. The trauma wasn’t fogging my brain anymore like it was this morning, so I got through my shower without shaking or passing out. I toweled myself off and peered out the window into the city street, trying to forget last night’s events.

I got dolled up, mostly because It was only a Dare and Grey tradition to go to the fanciest restaurant to prove to everyone they had money. My mom showed up in the doorway, her platinum blonde hair in curlers and a robe wrapped around her thin form. Her dark blue eyes were shimmering with eye shadow.

“Darling!” She squealed, walking over and hugging me despite the fact I was damp and wrapped in a towel. Her thin arms squeezed me and I felt her fake breasts poking me until it nearly hurt. She pulled back with a dazzling smile. “Did you figure out what you were wearing, hun? I have the best dress, it’s a really flattering pink, I think you’ll love it-”

“-Mom,” I said, cutting her off. “I got it. I know what I’m wearing.” Lie.

“Oh, okay,” She shrugged. “You should let me do your hair. You shouldn’t have that harsh black, you know. It’s draining the color from your face. How about a nice, light brown? Oh, that would look so cute-”

I sighed, and cut her off once more. “I’ll think about it.” Another lie. I kept re-dying my hair at the slightest sign of a lighter color.

She was still smiling. “Okay. We’re leaving in an hour!” She squawked as she danced out the door and down the hallway. I rolled my eyes and continued getting ready, ignoring the aches. I had a high threshold for pain, though. It wasn’t enough for me to get out of talking to Rachel.

I flat-ironed my hair because I was tired of hearing my mom complain, and threw on my navy blue strapless dress, my favorite, since it hugged me in all the right places. I put in my black diamond studs and applied a tiny bit of mascara and eyeliner. I still looked like crap, but my mom loved it. I’m sure she was lying. She had a reputation for crap like that.

We made it to the restaurant when the sun was already set. As a family, we walked in and my eyes adjusted to the dim lights. I wore my backup contacts, though they were irritating my eyes and it wasn’t doing anything for my headache.

Voices hummed and light jazz played on the radio as we took our seats at a large table with the Dares. Rachel was sitting next to me, her hair looking pretty in ringlets and glowing under the lights. She was wearing a dress similar to me, only a dark green.

I nudged her and smiled lightly. “You look like a Christmas tree.”

She smiled back at me, and everything felt right again. “You don’t half bad, either.”

We chatted quietly as our parents downed their drinks and laughed loudly about their money and business plans. Half-way through the dinner, my headache was growing into a migraine and it hurt to look at the candle In the middle of the table. I stood slowly. “I need fresh air.” I said, and pulled on my trench coat as I walked out the door. Rachel’s foot steps were trailing behind me.

Of course, the New York city lights weren’t any better than the dimmer lights inside, but I took it. The chilly air cleared the fog in my mind and I pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the tiny pocket inside my jacket. I popped one between my lips and lit up.

Now, I know it’s irresponsible to smoke. I know I shouldn’t be doing it at fifteen years old. I know, I know. I’ve heard every lecture. But it was a minor cure to the stress tightening my muscles and it relieved the aches all over. I only got to puff out one ring of smoke before Rachel’s thin fingers grabbed it from my mouth. She stomped her foot on it and looked at me.

I didn’t protest. “That shit can kill you.” She said flatly, looking straight ahead at the people buzzing on the streets.

“A lot of things can kill me.” I said as easily as possible, keeping the edge of my voice.

“I need to tell you something.” She said after a pause.

I leaned against the window of the restaurant and braced myself for whatever serious news Rachel had to tell me. She brushed her hair behind her ear and didn’t look me in the eyes. “You know the room in the school that was burned down in the orientation?”

I nodded, my eyebrows involuntarily raising. Rachel bit her lip. “That was because I ran into Percy Jackson again,” But just before I could let out a sigh of relief and laugh, she continued quickly. “Because, uh, how do I say this…”

After she trailed off, a gust of wind blew from the East. My jacket flew open, along with the piece of torn paper with Nico Di’ Angelo’s phone number and directions to Camp Half-Blood. I ran down the sidewalk after it, the wind still blowing. “Hey!” Rachel called, running after me.

When I got my hands on the paper, I looked up and Nico was running down the sidewalk once more, streaking the way he was last night. He was holding a big Wal-Mart bag and an empty McDonalds bag. A shimmering silhouette of a man was floating beside him. He didn’t even bother to stop to talk to me.

I turned around and Rachel’s eyes were huge and bright, like a flashlight was just shining in her corneas. For a fleeting moment, a deep, muffled voice was echoing in my brain, but I covered my ears in hopes it would end. Rachel clearly didn’t see a ten year old kid running down a street with a Wal-Mart bag. She saw a ghost, literally.

It was time to go to Camp Half-Blood.