I finally traced the source of the ticking—it was my necklace… or locket, whatever you call it. The clock necklace I'd picked up during my trip to China last year. Whenever it (or I) bumped into something, it would start ticking away, only to stop just as abruptly. Creepy, I know, but also kind of cool. I first noticed it around the time I met Rachel, a.k.a. the Campfire (oopsies, already noted this down, didn't you?). In my rush to find Esmé, I accidentally stepped on a cat's tail, and just like that, the ticking kicked back in. During the game, it went silent, and afterward, after the prophecy was spoken, I slipped away to check on the cat.
It had died, a deep gash marring its throat.
And so from that day on, I only wore and will continue to only wear black. I am sorry, cat.
I guess that the reason why I have never even experienced this anomaly was because the people around me weren't really in the danger zone. Yet. I was sheltered my whole life, what did you expect? Here at Camp, people were dying left and right. It was impossible to track them all at the same time.
Or maybe it was just Rachel's powers that kinda activated it. Y'know, prophecies predict the future? This predicts death?
Okay, my yapping will now come to an end.
Honestly, I've lost track of time. I remember those first two nights crystal clear, though—we biked until we could barely stand, then finally spotted a bus stop. We were so relieved. The boys and I were the main bikers, after all—okay, sure, Nebby was right there with us, but STILL.
The bus ride gave us a few hours to catch our breath, but now we're back to searching for another one to take us the rest of the way to the coastline. I'm hoping we'll get there by tomorrow at the latest; I'm already starting to feel totally disoriented. What day is it again? Monday? Friday? If it's Friday, then it's either been more than a week or a month—Christal said we left on a Sunday morning. Leo said there's a high percentage that we've been going for three weeks or so, but speaking from experience, it's best to look at a calendar. Problem is that we don't have the luxury of having a calendar, much less checking the time.
"Where even are we?" Nebby asked irritably, her fingers deftly tying her hair into a ponytail, with the side strands poking out. It was the first time I'd seen her hair pulled back like that, and she looked like an anime protagonist. Her Camp Half-Blood shirt was tucked into her pants, although some parts were torn and frayed—definitely souvenirs from the train incident. It looked epic. I shall proceed to steal this "strand-poking-out" technique to be used in the future.
Speaking of trains, our journey had taken us from Montauk to New York City, where we found ourselves in a crash—thanks to some giants and those plant ladies—we really appreciated how you stretched our trip halfway across the country. Then, we dined and dashed at a roadside… uh, village, on the border between New Mexico and Texas, met Em's dad, rescued Em, and… now we found ourselves here.
And how did we pull it off, you ask? That's because we're cool, so suck it up, losers. That was just a joke, please don't cancel me.
"Texas," Es said, her finger hovering over a nearby sign on the other side of the road. "What if we just hitchhike? Wait a minute…"
"What?" Emelie shot her an incredulous look, eyebrow arched as she smacked her gun against her palm. "Oh… oh."
"Guys, I think over there is closer to the coast," Christal muttered, glancing toward a gap in the crowd as she began to cross the street. We squeezed through the throng of people, Emelie lagging a bit behind, her limp making her movements slower than the rest. I was almost across when I heard a yelp. I turned around, startled by the multiple loud honking sounds that filled the air.
Emelie stood frozen in front of a car, panic etched across her face.
"Emelie!" I shouted, my instincts kicking in. I sprinted back, grabbing her arm just as she seemed ready to step into the path of oncoming traffic. It was a reckless move; if she got hit, we'd be wasting even more ambrosia. I couldn't shake the thought—did they even teach road safety at camp? I hoped they did; otherwise, I'd have to blame Chiron or Mr. D for yet another car accident.
"No, no, NO!" Em yelled, turning back. The car was closer now, along with other vehicles. Suddenly, a truck barreled toward us like a bull, its tires screeching as it left oily marks on the pavement. "MY GADGET—"
"Huh?"
A loud crunch echoed as the truck rolled over her teleportation gun. Emelie watched in disbelief as I yanked her back to the sidewalk, still oblivious to her ruined project.
Minutes later, I realized that our fastest route to the coastline was wrecked—and it was all my fault. It was too fast. Everything was too fast.
"I—I'm sorry, Em, please," I said, reaching out as she darted back to the spot, desperately picking up the crushed metal remnants.
"I can still fix this… I can…" She mumbled hopelessly, her voice trembling. I could hear the sniffles and stifled sobs as tears welled up in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away and began rummaging through her leather bag, pulling out a hammer, some screws, and a few small pieces of aluminum, her steps heavy.
She sank down onto the sidewalk, her hands fidgeting with the broken pieces as she tried to figure out her next move. I watched her get to work, her fingers moving nimbly over the materials. She hammered the aluminum together, muttering quietly as she worked. Her hands shook slightly as she fastened the screws, focusing on getting everything in place.
I stood frozen in shock for what felt like an eternity, five minutes ticking by. She continued driving the screws into place, oblivious to the fact that one of the wires lay snapped in half, frayed copper threads spilling out like strands of hair.
"Ow," she breathed as the hammer's blade caught her finger. Despite the sharp sting clear in her pained flinch, she continued on and on. It wasn't until Alex grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet that she finally paused.
"Excuse you." She glared at him, swatting his hand away.
"You can do whatever you want once we get on this bus," he replied, flicking her forehead lightly before nodding towards a small tourist bus waiting nearby. "We're not missing another bus because of all this."
"Show some respect for your mentor, Al," She replied sternly.
"With all due respect, it's former-mentor," Alex shot back.
"You son of a—"
"Oh my God, people," Nebby stepped between them. She glanced at the scattered gear on the floor with a I'm-so-over-this look on her face as she continued, "I'd love to shove you in front of a car, but since there are people around, I won't. And you."
She glared at Alex, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"What about me?" He asked.
"дети..."
"What do you mean, kids?"
"Are the children of Hermes always like this?" Nebby asked, pulling her ponytail tighter as she surveyed the mess scattered around.
"Do you mean the annoying part or the 'He speaks every language' thing?" Emelie replied, gathering her supplies and heading toward the bus stop. "Because I'd say yes to both."
"You've got to be kidding me. Also, where's Es–" Alex glanced around, then caught my eye and hesitated. "–ah, I mean… Beauregard." He drew a sharp breath, shook his head, and walked off.
Honestly, I wouldn't have even noticed the nickname slip if he hadn't made such a big deal about it. At least it'll keep everyone's attention on the whole "ship" situation instead of the fact that I might've just wrecked our one shot at an escape—and possibly set back the entire team's future while I was at it. Athena must be so disappointed in her daughter.
***
That trip was… well, let's just say it was awkward.
Most of the ride, I sat there, watching Emelie try to fix the mess I'd made, while I racked my brain for any random Texas history facts I could throw out once we got off. Guess how well that went, with my oh-so-reliable dementia.
Christal opened her mouth to break the silence but quickly realized even her best puns wouldn't lighten the mood. Meanwhile, it was impossible to miss Jasper sneaking glances at her from across the bus, looking completely lovesick. I could totally see them together if only Christal would cooperate a little.
Also, I could've sworn Alex and Esmé fell asleep holding hands, but maybe that was just my imagination running wild with the idea of a ship coming to life. I mean, I appreciated the interactions, but a two-year age gap can feel huge for minors, so I'd need to keep an eye on that. Plus, Esmé's too emotionally unstable for a relationship right now, so maybe it's something to consider for the future instead. If she breaks down or dies mid-journey, I will not be happy.
And across from me, Nebby, the only other sane individual in this group, went ahead and—
"Alright, everyone, first stop—THE GULF OF MEXICO! Now, who here knows a thing or two about this unique gem? No worries, if you don't—I'm here to give you the full experience. Firstly…" The guide kept chatting enthusiastically as the passengers stepped down onto the pathway, his voice carrying over the soft sounds of the waves.
I turned to look out the window, feeling a quiet awe settle in. The waves rolled and folded over each other in gentle, easy lines, catching bits of sunlight as they made their way to the shore. The water washed up onto the sand, which looked soft but clung to the rocky coast in rough patches. A low cliff stretched out nearby, bordered by a sturdy railing that seemed like a decent spot to take in the view. Moss grew thickly on the rocks, a deep green that softened the rough edges and made everything feel a little more alive. The air was filled with the fresh smell of salt and a hint of warmth from the sun.
When it was finally our turn (we went last), he stepped in front of us, blocking the way. Looking back, he's honestly so fricking annoying. He kept throwing questions at us, like, "Where are your parents?" and "Did you hitchhike? How did you get all the way up here?"
"Emi Rosella's our guardian," Esmé said firmly. "I suggest you let us through…" She reached into her backpack, pulled out five hundred bucks, and pressed it into his hand. "We'll be on our way."
"Rosella… ah, yes, Rosella," He murmured, his eyes lighting up as he pocketed the money. "Safe travels to you."
I mean, I appreciated how smoothly she managed to get us out of that situation, but five hundred? Really? I could get 450 scoops of vanilla ice cream with that amount.
We all hopped off one by one, and Christal was the first to race ahead, eager to feel the wind in her hair. Her hair whipped behind her as she skipped toward the edge. Birds chirped in the trees, and the oak hanging off the ledge swayed with the breeze, the wind brushing against her face. I sucked in a quick breath, just as she was about to drop down onto the beach below.
"If I'd known, I would've brought my swimsuit…" I heard her murmur behind me as I crouched down, scooping up a handful of seawater and letting it trickle down my arms, soaking into the warm, golden sand below.
"You really think we'd have time to enjoy something like this?" Nebby scoffed, sending a kick into the incoming wave with a flick of her foot.
"Aw man..." Christal sighed, brushing some sand off her sleeve as she gazed out at the horizon. "So, is Emelie doing any better?"
"Better? She's over the moon," Jasper called out, jogging over with his pants rolled up above his knees, his hair blending with the sand surrounding us.
"There's some bad news, though," Emelie said, holding out her gadget—broken but now patched up and looking almost good as new. My smile faded as she added, "We've only got three tries left."
"Wha—How?" Nebby pushed forward, snatching the gadget from her hands just to stare at the screen. "How the [censored] is that even possible? There were fifteen just hours ago!"
"Well, I had to run some mock trials to get it right, and having the device ruined right after I thought I was done definitely didn't do my nerves any good either…"
I'll have you know, I avoided every single menacing glare with style, thank you very much. Well, if your idea of style includes suddenly finding the pebbles at your feet incredibly fascinating, then sure. I still don't know how many times I have to say this, but why is this child of Athena so completely lacking in brainpower and basic coordination? I'm so sorry to those who were expecting a cool and smart Athena miniature spinoff, and I advise you all to find someone else cooler and smarter to pin your expectations on.
Anyway, I'm just going to narrate myself in the most ridiculous way possible: just standing there, enduring glares drilling into the back of my head, questioning every life choice that led me here, and ultimately projecting all my insecurities onto my biological dad who I haven't seen since he mysteriously disappeared to go get milk and never returned. I went to sleep. I woke up. I turned around—realized I wasn't in my room and then the next memory was a scene of a girl, staring at me from above. That, I think, was the first time I met Es. Hope that's enough lore for you.
Now, back to the point.
"I guess… that's that then," Esmé sighed. It was quite amusing how Nebby, Alex, and Emelie were all trying to fix the situation (a.k.a. giving me weird glances), while an Esmé was just watching Christal, who was rambling on and on about her love for algae-embedded saltwater, and Jasper, who was awkwardly trying to flirt with her in the background.
"Нам капец." Nebby facepalmed before chucking the teleportation device back to Emelie, who growled at her and handled it with the same careful reverence as if it were to hold her grandfather's ashes. "Guess we'll have to split up the group then. What better way to welcome a sorceress who could literally turn us all into pigs?"
"Ugh. Who's with me?"
"It's only fair that Emelie goes first. She built the thing after all," Es stated the obvious, but it still earned her a nod of approval from Emelie, who cradled the device like it was her own child. "Plus, if it breaks down mid-way, she'll know how to fix it—if she doesn't go plummeting 600 meters into the water first."
"And that girl over there," said Alex, pointing at Christal, who was messing around in the water, making a little water-halo above her head. "We can't just bike over there—we'd be wasting, like, 30 days. And we can't fly either, or Zeus will find any excuse to zap another Poseidon kid to pieces. And little buddy here," he shot Jasper a judgemental look, "gets ridiculously distracted whenever she's around." I could hear Esmé snicker quietly at that, so I guess I'm not the only one shipping those two together. Who was I kidding, she was Aphrodite's for God's sake.
"And Nebby?" Christal gave us her best puppy eyes, the halo above her head falling apart and sending droplets slinking down her hair as she pouted.
"Uh…" Nebby narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. "Sure."
Christal went back to her watery play.
It took us a while to tear her eyes away from the, ahem, "cute little fishies" and teleport her way to Circe's island.
"Watch me care-ful-lee," Emelie said, each syllable drawn out as if she was teaching kindergarteners how to play rock-paper-scissors. She quickly tapped in a few letters on a keypad that looked eerily like a Nokia's from the early 2000s, then gave a satisfied 'hmph'. "I've already set our destination, it's Aiaia. No one touch anything except this big, red button, got it? If you end up somewhere like Ohio or Tartarus, well, you brought it on yourself for being that dense."
She hit the button, and almost immediately, she started glowing with a golden light. Her body started to fade, and within a second or two, she was completely gone, leaving only the device behind. It hit the ground with a loud clang, the metal casing popping off and rolling away from the base. It took a moment for us to process what had just happened, but Nebby quickly snapped out of it and pushed Christal forward.
Christal, giving us a pleading look, somehow convinced Nebby to go first. And Nebby, being the absolute cinnamon roll that she is (and refuses to admit), snatched the device off the ground with a huff. She's so in denial.
Nebby pressed the red button, and we all crossed our fingers that she'd end up at Circe's island and not face-to-face with some drug-dealer in a random alley in L.A. After a brief moment, she vanished, and we could only hope for the best. Then, with a little help from Jasper (THE SHIP IS SAILING), Christal was swept up with a small jolt, letting out a surprised 'woah' as she disappeared in a flash.
"That was… quick," Esmé muttered. "I kinda miss her already," she added with a sigh.
"People? We have a problem here. How the [censored] are we supposed to get over there?" Alex ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the bits of sand clinging to it. "This place is just a bloody pain in the [censored]."
"Um..." I started (I hope I have dysarthria as well, because I need something to blame my weird speaking patterns on), trying to think, when Esmé suddenly jumped in with a wicked grin that made me seriously question if leaving her here with us was the best—or worst—idea yet.
"I'm rich," she said casually. "My aunt has a few jets stashed in states she's marked off with her friends during their campaign. She did Texas once."
Alex's eyes went wide. "So you're telling me there's a private jet just sitting nearby waiting to be taken? Why the bloody [censored] didn't you mention this before they teleported?" He flicked her forehead a few times until she muttered a sorry. Yes, I fully support his choice there, and no, she did not mean it.
"I dunno, you distracted me?" She huffed, puffing out her chest in some attempt to look tough—not that it helped, considering Alex stood a good five centimeters taller than any of us. Sad, but true.
"Oh, and how exactly did I manage that?"
"You're… uh… " Her voice trailed off into a mumble, the bravado melting into awkwardness. "Ugh…"
I was beyond relieved she didn't actually say it out loud—I knew exactly what she meant, and, yes, we were in the middle of a crowd giving us weird looks. Besides, we were grimy and probably smelled like a pile of rotten gym socks. Circe would only be doing us a favor turning us all into guinea pigs. At least we'd get groomed daily (not in that way, noooooooooo).
So, we decided to, I don't know, yoink a private jet out of nowhere. You know, from a mansion just 5km away. We walked there carefreely for about 5-10 minutes, no big deal. No remorse either—well, Esmé certainly didn't feel any, at least. She even said something along the lines of, "Auntie has so many jets, she probably won't even notice if one goes missing, haha~!".
Meanwhile Alex, completely shook by the idea of someone being that absurdly rich, found a quiet corner to sulk in, reflecting on his tragically unglamorous life.
***
"Who knows how to pilot a jet?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.
Silence.
"No one?"
More silence. We all just stood there, trading glances and staring at the jet as if it might suddenly explode itself into the air. Finally, with an exasperated sigh, Alex threw his hands up and strode over to the aircraft, muttering under his breath. He climbed into the cockpit, taking the pilot's seat with a resigned look.
Jasper opened the passenger door and motioned for us girls to climb in. Once we were settled in, he hopped in himself and shut the door firmly behind us.
On second thought, Alex might actually be our best shot. He looks perpetually depressed, acts even even more depressed, making him seem way older than he actually is—fifteen. Also, didn't the Stoll brothers mention once that he'd been driving since he was, like, twelve? Or did they mention it twice? Or did they not mention it at all? Not exactly… uh, I don't know, reassuring, but it's something. Here's hoping we don't end up arrested—or die. Speaking of which, a little heads-up on whether we actually survive this "quest" would be much appreciated. I'd hate to die unplanned.
After properly buckling ourselves up, we crossed our fingers, hoping for the best, and the jet sped across the lush field effortlessly, taking off to who knows where.