Chapter Text
I feel like I sat there for an eternity, just staring at the blurry buildings in the distance. Neither of the guards said anything, just diligently watching their post. I suppose this is what video game avatars feel like when their overlords move away from the PC and go AFK. The world moves onwards, creeping forth at a slow, nearly stagnant pace.
Ed uses the time to take a nap, resting his head on my lap. I stroke his feathers, preening them. It’s a strange little habit that I’ve wandered into. Like a person pets their dog or cat, I preen my semi-sentient crow-raven thing.
Now is a moment to think and reflect, to catch my breath and take in the reality of the present. Now is time to become acquainted with that increasing hollowness in my belly, the unease from knowing Jason is outside my grasp. Now is a space to finally look at the destination I knew was coming for six years now.
Camp Jupiter. New Rome.
With my shitty vision, I don’t know what to make of it. From this distance, it all just looks like a set piece, like CGI backgrounds in a movie. At any moment, I expect the world to ripple and it all to be gone, for me to be gone. This is a world I was never meant to be in, a place my eyes were never meant to see. It is Jason’s home… or, rather, it will be one day.
The sun continues onward. Father drives through the sky, inching closer to midday.
Damian finally finishes with whatever debriefing he had to do. He walks back up the hill with a new guard person, talking in hushed whispers. Damian’s face looks concerned, but the new woman seems to be reassuring him. When they finally reach the top of the hill, the woman places a hand on his shoulder. He sighs and nods.
I try to stand up, holding Ed in my arms. He begins to wake up, groggily opening his eyes.
The pair walk towards the guards.
The guards immediately snap to attention.
The woman nods. “At ease.”
The guards stand down.
“When you are done with your shift, report to your Commander and provide a detailed report of today’s events.”
They salute her. “Ma’am, yes Ma’am.”
She nods again and is about to walk away with Damian.
“Um- Damian?”
Damian does a double take and turns around, causing the new woman to pause. “Oh, Carmina! You’re still here?”
“Who is this, Damian?”
“One of the kids we found, Captain.”
Damians walks forward and kneels in front of me. “No one came to get you?”
One of the guards clears his throat. Damian looks at him. “I don’t think anyone was informed of there being two arrivals… Sir.”
The woman sighs and shakes her head. “First Cohort knuckleheads no doubt?”
The other guard has a wry smile. “Yes, Ma’am.”
Damian turns to look at the woman. “Do you mind if I escort her to town, Captain? She’s had a rough go of things.” He turns to smile at me reassuringly. I try smiling back, but it’s small and forced.
“Go ahead. When you’re done, report back to me. We still need to take stock of your deliveries.”
Damian stands up and salutes her. The guards follow his lead. The woman nods and walks away.
Damian sighs again and looks at me.
“Ready to go?”
I nod and walk with him, taking a moment to wave back at the guards. One waves enthusiastically and the other half-heartedly scolds him for it. The two begin to comedically bicker as Damian tries to hide a smile.
Ed, now fully awake, shakes himself out of my arms and hops onto my shoulders.
Damian keeps a slow pace as we descend the hill, better accommodating for my shorter stature.
“So, uh, what do you know about New Rome?”
“Well, not much. I know about the cohorts and that I’ll get chosen by one of them to join.”
He nods, humming thoughtfully. “That is the jist of it. Someone, probably Nana, will explain it some more.”
“Nana?”
We reach the bottom of the hill and he directs us to a paved path. “You’ll meet her soon enough. All you need to know for now is that sometime tonight, you’ll be introduced to the Centurions of the cohorts willing to bid for you and you can pick which cohort you want to join.”
As he says it, his voice takes on a false-positive quality. There is a feigned preppiness in his words, but his eyes are cold. He’s lying about something. A lie by omission, most likely.
“Will Jason be there?”
Damian purses his lips. “I don’t know for sure. I think the praetors would want a more public Bidding Ceremony for him.”
The pavement fades into some kind of road as we enter the city. It’s pretty bustling for what in the modern world would be a small town. People are walking on the street, in a mix of togas and tunics, armor and those iconic purple shirts, or even clothes like you would see in the Mortal Realm.
Damian chuckles at the open wonder on my face.
“It feels like you stepped into a time machine, doesn’t it?”
“A weird time machine, but yeah.”
We walk past a fountain, the statues carved in the style of Ancient Rome. The whole city seems to be carefully constructed to bring back memories of that moment in time, complete with the colosseum’s facade standing off in the skyline.
There’s even the opening to a market where I see people bartering for bread and other goods. Tiny children, younger than my physical body, run underfoot, some wielding tiny wooden swords and helmets made of cardboard.
We even pass by a smithy shop, the sound of clanging iron echoing out. I don’t even realize I’ve stopped as I look at the burly men and women hammering at molten metal, perfecting a blade. It’s like stepping into a renaissance faire.
“It doesn’t feel real.”
I feel Damian place a hand on my shoulder. “It is real. You’re with your people now.”
One of them dunks the metal into a pail of water, causing the water to sizzle and burst into steam. They wipe the sweat off their brow and continue back to work. Clang, clang, and clang. It’s fascinating work, watching them do an ancient art.
You’re with your people now, he said. He couldn’t be farther from the truth. One of my people is probably running across the country right now. Another one of my people is being shepherded around by strangers in a stranger land. The newest of my people is stuck in her infinite forest, forced to just trust that we can protect ourselves. Never have my people been so scattered.
Damian gently tugs me along, taking me through more streets. As we turn a corner, my nose is immediately pelted with the sweet smells of a bakery. The smell of the confectionaries is divine on my nose. We walk further down the street to the source of this beautiful scent. Even Ed perks up, whiffing the air.
Damian gently opens the door and I’m drowned in the decadent smell of freshly baked cookies. It makes my mouth water, dreaming of the sugar. The room itself appears to be part of some kind of bakery. There are multiple storage shelves with baked goods hidden behind glass panels and a window to a kitchen behind the counters. Off to the side is a staircase.
We walk forward to the main counter. Damian dings the bell.
“Nana?” He calls out.
We hear the sound of some clattering trays and the thump of some cloth being put down.. “Coming!”
The door to the kitchen opens moments later, revealing a somewhat plump, older woman. She has crow’s feet wrinkles on the sides of her eyes, like she’s had a lifetime of laughter. Her silver hair is tied back into a bun covered by a hair net. When she sees Damian, her face lights up.
She puts down a tray of cookies on the counter and quickly walks through the gate separating the customer and employee area. She runs to him and wraps him into a hug. He’s much taller than her, so Damian bends down a little, chuckling, and hugs her back.
When they separate, the woman pinches his cheeks with a smile.
“It has been far too long, young man!”
She lets go of his cheeks, giving Damian a moment to rub the feeling back into them. He still has a smile on his face, an expression reminiscent of the one on her face. Upon closer look, I can also see that they share the same eye shape.
“Sorry Nana! This promotion’s been hard work.”
She shakes her head. “Still! Neglecting your poor Nana like this? Shame!”
Her words lack any actual bite to them. She looks at Damian like he’s a precious jewel or a treasured heirloom. It’s an expression of unadulterated love, the kind that brings anyone a smile.
“Oh!” She reaches for the tray and presents it to him. “Have a cookie! It’s a new batch I’ve been testing. Saves on flour. You know how it’s been with imports lately.”
He reaches for one and blows on it before taking a bite. His face melts, like he’s taken a bite of heaven. “Nana, these are amazing! Are those chocolate chips?”
She smiles and puts the tray down. “Homemade chocolate chips! Tony’s got in some cacao in their last run. This is way cheaper than actual chocolate chips-”
Nana continues talking about her chips and advances in making them. Damian seems to be enthralled, but more so in eating the cookie. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ed moving forward to the counter. Just as I think he’s going to fall off balance, he hops onto the counter. I try to grab him, but he just hops towards the tray.
I try to be quiet and catch him, but he just walks forward.
He finally gets to the tray and I jump, just barely managing to catch him. However, I hit Damian in the process causing him to stumble forward. In the end, I end up on the floor, an annoyed avian giving me the stink eye. I glare at him.
“Look, I’m pretty sure chocolate can kill you, so I really just did you a favor.”
Ed turns his head, refusing to look at me.
“Don’t be butt-hurt. You know I’m right.”
He croons.
“Fine, I’ll get you some bread to make up for it.”
He turns back to me and nods.
That’s when I realize that we have an audience. Damian and Nana watch me like I’ve grown a second head. Nana more so with amusement than Damian’s straight confusion.
“Can you… understand it?” Damian points at Ed.
I shake my head and try to get up. Ed flaps his wings to hop back up onto my shoulder. “Nah. I’ve known him for a while.” I pet his head. “After a while, I could understand his body language.”
Nana nods like what I said made perfect sense. She grabs the cookie tray and lowers it down to my level. “Would you like a cookie, Dear?”
“Sure!” I grab the disk of heavenly goodness with two hands. However, before I take a bite, I look at the old woman. “Do you have anything bird friendly? Bread would do.”
Nana chuckles. “Of course!”
She begins to walk behind the counter and into the kitchen. As she’s looking, I take a bite of the cookie. It’s pure deliciousness, just as good as it smells. I imagine this is what ambrosia or nectar would taste like, perfectly in your mouth. Or maybe I’m just a malnutritioned child having sugar for the first time in a long time (excluding our ice cream stops on our journey).
Damian smiles at me.
“Good, right?”
Swallowing the last bits of cookie, I nod. “Amazing.”
Nana comes back with a loaf of bread in her hands. She hands it to me and I rip a piece off for Ed to eat. He inches forward carefully and tears a little off. When it enters his mouth, he ruffles his feathers in happiness. I rip more pieces for him as he happily eats them.
I turn back to Nana while he eats. “He really likes it! Thank you!”
Nana coos. “What a polite girl you are!”
I feel a sudden rush of embarrassment, pink blush heating up my cheeks. It’s irrational, to be so affected by such slight praise. Perhaps it is because of the woman that the praise comes from, a matronly and loving figure. Grandmothers are a different kind. (Hah. Sometimes, they’re infanticidal bitches-)
Damian suddenly remembers why we’re here in the first place.
“Anyway, Nana-”
Nana goes behind the counter and begins to transfer the cookies out of the tray and onto display.
“What is it now, Dami Dear?”
Red dusts his ears at the cute nickname. He clears his throat. “Carmina here,” He places a hand on my back “is new to Camp-”
Nana glares at him.
Damian stutters. “Uh- I mean-”
“New Rome, Dear. It has always been New Rome.”
“Yes, New Rome. Anyway,” He looks down at me. He takes a pause from Nana and leans down to me.
“Why don’t you go feed your crow friend at one of those tables? I have to do some grown up talk. It won’t take long.”
Grown up talk, like I’m not mentally the same age as him. Nana’s eyes turn a little steely from the interaction. I get the sense that this was an order.
Reluctantly, I nod and walk over to one of the tables he pointed to. I climb onto the chair as Ed hops onto the table top. I continue ripping him pieces of the loaf, keeping an ear tuned into their hushed conversation.
“She needs someone to learn the basics from. You know how the old recruitment center’s been ‘under construction’ for a while now.”
“Yes, but that’s Marge’s job now isn’t it?”
Damian shakes his head, leaning closer in.
“...monster attack… found her…traveling with a little boy… son of Jupiter!”
“ Mecastor!”
“... lightning… hurt Lewis… healed him!”
“... daughter of… powerful.”
They separate a little.
“I’m trying to convince Captain Perez to ask Centurion Burton to bid for her.”
Nana shakes her head. “They’ll never go for it.”
“It’s worth a shot. Either way, she needs someone. Kid’s traumatized , Nana.”
I can feel both their gazes on me. I resolutely stare at Ed, watching him finish the last of the loaf.
“Alright.”
There’s a pause.
“Can you come back, Carmina?”
I turn and nod, hopping off the chair. Ed follows, hopping back onto my shoulder. His weight there is a pleasant reminder to keep in the present. At least one person is still with me.
I walk up the counter.
Damian kneels in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “Nana here is gonna get you settled, okay?”
I nod.
He smiles and gets up.
“Well, I have to get going.”
Nana nods and walks around the counter once more to give him a hug. He melts into it again, holding onto her. I can tell that it’s a bittersweet leaving, that neither grandmother nor grandson wants to part so soon.
“I’ll come see you soon, Nana.”
She sniffles a little. The two separate. “You better!” She says as she wipes away tears with her hands. “Otherwise, I’ll ask your sister to come wack you until you do!”
Damian laughs, watery.
He nods and begins to walk away, opening the door. He looks back one last time and walks out the door, gently closing it behind him with a ding. Nana watches as he walks past the window, staring at where he was even after he’s out of view.
She takes a deep shuddering breath and a smile is back on her face. She turns towards me.
“Well, I believe that we have some things to get for you?”
Nana is an extremely efficient woman. She leaves the bakery unattended, saying that she’ll hear the ding if there is an actual customer. She then guides me up the stairs to a loft apartment living situation.
Everything happens in a blur.
First, she sits me down and makes me tell her all health conditions she should be aware of and anything that requires additional medical devices such as asthma. I tell her about the whole eye issue and she promises to get me a pair of contacts.
Then, she shepherds me over to the bathroom and shows me all the soaps, shampoos, and conditioners she has. It isn’t a grand collection, but to me, it’s more than enough. The promise of a shower is so enticing, the feeling of hot water cascading over me a welcomed future.
She settles me down in the bathroom, promising that she’ll be back soon with everything I’ll need. Left to my own devices, I turn on the shower, allowing myself to get lost in the hot steam. Ed watches guard right outside the room, ever the dutiful soldier (terrified of the steam ruining his flight feathers).
If anything this life has taught me, it is to appreciate the little things. The hot, near scalding shower water is amazing for my skin. I can feel the year’s worth of dirt being washed off me and out of my hair. Messiness and dirtiness has a way of clawing at my own soul, a reminder of my circumstances. The water washes it all away, away with the blood, away with the grime, away with the hardship. It is a rebirth, a shedding of skins.
I lather my hair with the hair products, trying to detangle all the matts. It’s hard work, trying to tease out all the clumps, but it is worth it. As I watch the water wash them away, I see more of what I thought was black getting washed away, as though alongside the filth my own identity had to go down the drain. All that is left is gold. The ebony, the raven is gone.
If I close my eyes, I can hear the voices in the back of my head, the Other One’s work.
They like the gold, say that the gold is who I am. It is foolish to covet the obsidian when I have the far more precious gold. It’s all so topsy-turvy.
Eventually, I turn off the shower head, wrapping myself up in a fluffy towel. When I step out, I’m dripping all over the place like a wet dog. The mirror is fogged up from all the hot water, but I can see the blurry image of a head of gold poking over the countertop.
I take another towel and quickly wrap my hair before the water gets everywhere. If it also hides me from having to face the gold, then that is another bonus.
The sound of pecking comes from the door, followed by knocking.
“I have some stuff for you, Dear.”
I turn the door knob and crack the door open slightly. Nana is there with a pile of clothes in her arms. I open the door a little more and take them from her, holding my towel up.
“Thank you.” I put them on the counter top and turn around. “Do you have a blow dryer?”
Nana shakes her head. “I do have a fan though. That should do the trick just as well.”
I nod and close the bathroom door again. Quickly and avoiding the water puddles I made, I quickly put on the clothes. It feels incredible to wear new clothes (that actually fit ) after so long. The purple t-shirt’s cotton feels amazing on my skin and the material of the beige shorts isn’t all that bad either. Quickly, I take Virgo out of my old pockets and drop it into the (pretty amazingly large) pockets of my new shorts.
Taking a moment to put my hair in the towel again, I open the door and walk out in search of Nana. Ed follows along.
When I find her in the living room, she takes my old clothes from me. I can see her face strain as she takes in their dirtiness. “Would you like for me to clean these?”
I shake my head. “It’s okay to throw them away. They don’t fit.”
She nods and takes them away. When she comes back, she returns with some combs, oil, and a hand fan, the kind you need to flap. She sits down on the floor near the window looking over the street and gestures for me to sit in front of her.
Reluctantly, I move forward, doing as she says.
She slowly untagles my hair from the towel burrito, allowing it to cascade down my back. It’s a shocking cold feeling, but I endure. She slowly runs her fingers through the strands, inspecting them.
“I assume you have questions for me?”
“I- I don’t know where to start.”
“You overheard my conversation with Damian.”
“I didn’t mean to!” I totally did.
“Work on your lies and your acting.” She reaches a snag and gently teases it out. “It’s an important skill here. Ask. You’re curious.”
“Damian said something about me being in the Third Cohort.”
“My grandson is many things, delusional chief among them. You must understand, Dear, that our kind will only ever find home in Cohort 4 or 5. It is the way of things.”
“Our kind?” I grit my teeth as she finds another tangle.
“Non-affluent demigods. You don’t have any recommendation papers and no legacy family to teach you our ways before you came to the army, to New Rome.”
She removes her fingers and reaches for the brushes.
“Why care about me like this then? Why not just send me off with the army uniform? Why the shower? Why brush my hair? Why tell me any of this?”
Her brush pauses. I turn around to look at her. She smiles, resigned.
“As an old woman, there is only so much I can do in this world. Caring for you children is one of the few joys I have left in my old age. Would not begrudge an old woman just this?”
I turn back, letting her get back to work with my hair.
When she’s done fully detangling it, she goes to put it up into a ponytail. Afterwards, the both of us get up and she leads me to a pack of stuff lying on the coffee table. As she arranges some of them, I take Virgo out of my pocket and stick it into my hair.
When she’s done, she calls me back over.
“Now, these items are the basic items given to every new soldier.” She goes on to demonstrate all of them. There are three sets of the Camp Jupiter t-shirt, two pairs of beige shorts, two pairs of jeans, a purple Camp Jupiter hoodie, two pairs of black socks, brown combat boots, basic toiletries, a set of purple pajamas, underwear, and a beige canvas backpack.
“A lot of purple.”
She chuckles. “Those are the colors of this army.” She says the word as if it’s a joke. “Why, would it kill some of these kids to switch things up?”
She then picks up a small wooden box and opens it. Inside is what looks like a contacts case and a bottle of lens solution. “As you may know, these are contact lenses. Come with me.”
We walk to the restroom. She leaves the box of contacts stuff on the counter and goes to search for something. When she comes back, she brings with her a stool so that I can see over the counter.
After I hop onto it, she makes me wash my hands. Then, she hands me the contact lenses.
“Hold your eye open and use your index finger to pop the contact in.”
She demonstrates with her own eye.
It takes some effort but after multiple tries, they finally go in. It feels so weird to have them in. The world looks so much more crisp and clear. It really emphasizes how long it’s been since I’ve had this level of clarity.
I can feel tears welling up in my eye as I imagine being able to see Jason clearly. The possibilities I have access to now are immense. Maybe I can finally learn how to properly aim shit instead of firing in a general direction? Who knows! (In all seriousness, who let me be a semi-blind archer? An A+ idiot with a death wish, that’s who.)
The world is so beautiful when in clarity. Like the shower and hot water, it’s one of those things you can’t appreciate until you’re deprived of it. Knowing the world is clearer and only being able to see it blurry feels like a prison. It makes one feel crazy and constricted, the feeling of a drowning man centimeters close to the surface.
Ed flaps up to get a closer look at me. He shifts his head around, trying to figure out the cause of my confused distressed-happiness. It just makes me want to cry more as I can see each charcoal feather in expert detail. The poor, confused bird just lets me hold him until I stop my happy sobs.
Nana laughs at my owlish expression and helps me off the stool. I immediately wander around, taking everything in.
“The lenses are enchanted to automatically fit your eye needs.”
“Could they be enchanted to do more things?”
She nods. “They could be, but those lenses are extremely expensive. Magic doesn’t take well to plastics. It takes a specialty magician to even attempt it.”
Nana gives me the box of contacts stuff. “These are enchanted to never be infected, so you may use them indefinitely until the magic wears off. You must remove them before sleeping and place them in this contacts solution. This specific solution is intended to prolong the life of the magic spell cast on the lenses, so refrain from using other solutions.”
We begin to walk to the living room.
“In the box is a backup set of lenses and three bottles of solution. If you need to refill either, go to the infirmary of your cohort and they will tell you the procedure.”
When we return to the living room, Nana moves around the coffee table, now reaching towards a different box. It’s a discreet metal box with a simple enough lock. She gestures at me to come closer. When I stop next to her, she reaches for my hand and gently guides it to the lock. I feel a small prick, blood welling up.
The lock begins to glow a soft gold, sucking my blood.
“This is a magical safe. Only your blood can open it.” She cracks it open, showing that the inside is far bigger than the outside. “This is all the space you have, so be careful about what you keep in here.”
Nana leaves me alone after that, to look over all my new stuff. There’s a customer, she says, but I can tell she wants to leave me to my thoughts. And boy, there are plenty of them.
I begin to take out whatever’s left inside my old raggedy bag. (Ed makes busy playing around with my other stuff, investigating the strange cloth.) It’s not much stuff of value. Most of it is wrappers that I didn’t want to discard and leave as a trail and two exchanges of clothes that are also ill fitting. There’s a pelt or two that I used to keep warm, but it’s time to say goodbye to them as well.
Carefully, I take out the more treasured items. There’s the polaroid and the little bag full of photos. I slowly sift through them. Most are pictures of Jason and some of his firsts. His first ice cream, the time with the unicorn… As I sift further back, the rolling grassy hills of the countryside are exchanged with the forest of Sonoma. Jason and I at the creek, Jason playing with Ed in the water, Jason dunking Lupa… Farthest back are the pictures of Thalia, Jason, and I. They are the memories of our last day together, of the park, of Jason’s first steps and of his first words.
With a heavy heart, I put the camera and the photos inside the safe, knowing that such precious things must be protected. I can’t help but feel as though I am neglecting these memories in a way, hiding them in the dark where no one else can see, as though they are something to be ashamed of. These are the memories of Bharathi, and I cannot be Bharathi any longer. I am Carmina now. Carmina has new memories to make.
Then comes the copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. This one is shoved inside with much urgency lest the memories come to haunt me again. Maybe one day I could crack open this book and ignore the source of those rust red stains. That day, I would read it to Jason, perhaps even hook him onto the story of another boy with a big destiny on his shoulders. That day is far from today.
Finally, I take out two necklaces: the necklace with the locket holding a picture of Thalia, Jason, and I, and the necklace with the locket of Anu’s “ashes”. They too go inside the safe, but with much less regard. I let Anu’s “ashes” remain in the light for just a little longer, though, caressing the sides of the plastic trinket.
“It is cruel of me to keep you trapped here, in my little bottle, but I need you.” I lower the necklace into the safe. “I need you to remind me what happens when I get too caught up in the dreams, in my own mind and away from reality. You were an… acceptable loss, and I don’t have anyone else I’m willing to lose. A little longer, Anu. Just a little longer. Until my people can protect themselves from my own blindness.”
With that, I close the safe, dooming the items inside to a life of obscurity in the shadows.
I take a deep breath, looking over all these new things that are mine. There are few things in the new life that were mine. Most of them currently reside inside the safe. The last thing to not hide inside is the dog tag, Cody’s dog tag.
That piece of cool metal remains steadfast against my skin, tucked inside the shirt. The coolness occasionally feels like a dull burn, a reminder of its original owner. This is an item that I own by right of conquest, finders keepers and all that. It isn’t something that I particularly want to own either.
The tag is a brand on my soul, a reminder of Cody and what I had to do to survive. Like with Anu, I find myself holding no pity. That pity belongs with Bharathi’s weakness and the remnants of her human heart. Carmina is a different identity, a new stage name. Unlike Bharathi, Carmina yields to the divinity inside her that calls upon her to forsake man. Carmina is a demigod, something in-human. Bharathi was just a confused girl.
Eventually, I walk downstairs for some lunch. Afterwards, Nana allows me to hang out with Ed at one of the tables or occasionally help her back in the kitchen. It’s a pleasant enough piece. I can almost forget what exactly is outside these doors and the fantasticality of it all.
Around two hours after noon, the bell above the bakery door rings.
“Coming!”
I follow Nana out to greet the customer.
When she exits the kitchen, Nana smiles. “Suki! So nice to see you again!”
The customer, an older teen girl with blonde hair and blue eyes like my own, smiles sheepishly and waves. “Hey, Nana Ross!” She leans over the counter as she catches a glimpse of me and Ed behind Nana. “Who would this be?”
“This is a new Camper, Carmina.” She says the word “Camper” like it’s foul filth in her mouth, face scrunching up in disgust. Suki winces in empathy, but quickly recovers and looks at me.
“Nice to meet you!”
“Same.”
Ed sticks closer to me, eyeing her. There’s an awkward silence.
“Anway, what can I do for you, Dear? I believe I still have some of your favorite cake pops-”
Suki shakes her hands apologetically. “No, no! I’m on business actually.”
“I’m sure a pastry couldn’t hurt!” Nana starts moving around the pastry display trying to find the cake pops as Suki tries to get her to stop. She is terribly unsuccessful.
Nana puts a pink cake pop in a paper bag and brings it back to the counter. Suki, now at peace with her inability to persuade Nana, tries to take some coins from a coin purse.
“No Dear! I must insist that it’s on the house!”
Suki gives her a deadpan glare. “Nana! I can’t keep putting you out like this! How else will you make money if you keep giving out goods for free?”
Nana presses the paper bag forward. “Nonsense! With all you do for those children, I must insist. You cannot argue with an old woman. It’s bad taste.”
Suki laughs and takes the paper bag, putting away her coins. “Oh, fine!”
There’s a ding, a five minute warning from a timer we set. Nana looks through the window to the kitchen to see if she needs to go back there. Turning back to Suki, she smiles.
“Anything else I can get for you?”
“Oh, yes!” Suki reaches into the brown leather satchel at her side and takes out a piece of paper. She hums as she looks through it. “Aha!”
She places the paper on the counter, turning it so that the words face Nana. I try to tip toe to try and see it, but my tiny legs are fruitless in their pursuit. Nana notices and picks me up, depositing me on the counter.
Ed flies up to join me.
It’s a shopping list of various miscellaneous items such as glass jars, utensils of specific metals, and some herbs. A good chunk of the plants I don’t recognize. Most items on the list are crossed out.
“We recently got in a patient with severe burns and inflammation that’s going south fast , and Director White wants to keep more herbs in preparation.” She points at two items not yet crossed out. “But, Cynthia was cleaned out of Aloe Vera and Chamomile. Apparently, son Cohort 2 idiots decided to mess with fireworks while drunk.”
Nana purses her lips. “I think I have some left. I’ll bring by what I have in an hour.”
“Thanks, Nana. What can we pay you?”
Nana shakes her head. “It’s to save a kid’s life, Dear. That sort of thing has never had a price. I know you kids are strapped for cash enough as is.”
Suki sniffles. “One day, Nana. We’ll get you something.”
Nana reaches over the counter and puts a reassuring hand on Suki’s shoulder and rubs it. “It’s alright. Save that poor boy, and you’ll be cleared in my books.”
Suki nods and Nana lets her go.
With some final pleasantries, Suki takes her shopping list and walks out. The timer rings again, indicating that whatever’s in the oven is done. Nana helps me off the counter top and I follow her into the kitchen.
She seems more reserved now, as if she’s been drained of her positivity.
She puts on a pair of large oven mitts and takes out two trays of freshly made bread from the oven. The smell of baked goods floods the already saturated room, filling the space with saccharine sweetness. It’s hard to remain dour in the face of such an aroma.
Ed tries to get at the bread, but I hold him in the quarantined area that Nana allotted for us.
“I thought you’re a baker?”
She takes the loaves and begins to place them into a warming oven. “I am. However, also grow herbs and plants for those that are in need.”
As she takes off her mittens, I get a good view of the inside of her right forearm. There’s a faded black tattoo stark against her slightly tanned skin. I can clearly see (and that’s a new experience) the image of a sickle and grain etched into her skin.
She places the mitts on the countertop and heads out to the main shop again. I follow her as she walks towards the door and flips the open sign to “Closed”. Then, she heads to the stairs, taking a moment to take off her apron and hang it on the hook near the stairs. I then follow her upstairs.
She quickly hurries around the apartment, producing a canvas tote from nowhere. She hurries around to the back of the apartment and comes back with a couple bunches of some white flower and five foot long Aloe Vera leaves. She shoves them into canvas tote, rifling through it to check for something else. Happy with her findings, she heads back to the stairs.
I rush after her.
“Come along quickly, Dear. We must not delay.”
We leave the shop behind and power walk to the edges of the city. As we walk, I find none of the same time I had earlier to admire the surroundings. However, I notice that I can see more younger Campers, running about in their little groups. I don’t have time to ask Nana questions, though, as she rushes me to the city limits.
We are briefly waylaid by a line backing up near the entrance to the Camp. I can see Nana’s impatience building in the quiet tutting of her foot against the ground and the shifting of her posture. As the line progresses, her joviality begins to steeply diminish, as if the closer she is to the Camp, the more stress fills her.
Finally, we reach the front.
An unbothered guard walks up to us with a writing pad and pen.
“Name?” He strings out the word like he has nothing better to do.
Nana’s face is trying very hard not to express her displeasure. “Judith Ross.”
“Purpose of visit?”
“Supplies delivery.”
He pauses, flipping up some paper on his clipboard. “I don’t see a scheduled delivery here.” He lets go of the papers and looks over the two of us. “Who’s the delivery for?”
“Cohort Five Infirmary.”
He lazily flips through the paper again. “I don’t see it. I’m sorry, Ma’am but you’ll have to turn back.”
I can see Nana’s smile take on a razor quality. She quietly and discreetly reaches into her tote bag and pulls out a bunch of coins. She leans in closer to the guy, who has definitely noticed their distinctive clinks.
“Oh, I’m sure, you’ve made a mistake.” Nana’s voice takes on a sweet southern drawl, a Meemaw’a voice if I’ve ever heard one. She takes the man’s hands and transfers the coins.
The guy tosses the coins in his hands, as if weighing them. Taking a moment, he consults the clipboard again and smiles at us. “Oh, look! It’s right there!” He gestures to a guard a little further ahead. “Please proceed and enjoy your trip.”
This new guard makes Nana hold out her forearm. He checks the faded tattoo and nods. Nana pulls down the sleeves of her blouse quickly, like the tattoo is something shameful to be hidden. She tries to push us onward, but the guard stops us.
“What seems to be the problem?”
He nods his head at me. “The kid. Who’s she?”
Nana places a hand at my back. I don’t know if this is meant to reassure me or stop me from bolting. I can tell Ed wants to ruffle his feathers in annoyance, but he too remains still. “New recruit. She’s in my care until her Bidding tonight.”
The guard looks over me with a skeptical eye. Have you ever come back to the US after an international flight? I swear, I know I tell them the truth and it’s all security theater, but damn, do their glares make me doubt my very soul.
Whatever he was looking for, he doesn’t find it and lets us go.
As we walk around the edges of the Camp, I catch brief glimpses of the other Campers. Some are rushing in between places, half clad in armor. Others are walking leisurely, talking with each other but holding a steady hand on the pummels of their swords. It appears as though there's a common area for all cohorts and different compounds for each cohort.
There are so many people walking around in their purple t-shirts…
Nana, however, is a woman on the warpath. She holds my hand, tugging me along at a marching pace. I can feel her tenseness and anxiety filling her as we walk through this common area, past the occasional fountain or patch of grass.
She doesn’t relax until we enter what I assume to be the fifth cohort’s compound gates. These guards let us through without a fuss. After we pass through, Nana takes a deep breath and smiles apologetically at me.
“Sorry for all that nonsense, Dear.”
I pet Ed’s head absentmindedly as we walk. “It’s alright.”
She shakes her head. “I swear the nerve of some of these children,” She mutters under her breath. “Such insolence! Such a lack of discipline!”
Nana leads us through the compound as if she knows it like the back of her hand. I begin to wonder whether she actually does know it that well (that tattoo should be damning enough proof).
“Can you believe that this is better? Progress?”
“Were you part of Camp once?”
She winces at that word, “Camp”, again. She turns us around a corner.
“A long time ago, yes. My husband and I served the Twelfth Legion Fulminata and for a time, the mortal ranks of the United States Army.”
“Wow. What did you and your husband do?”
She looks into the distance, nostalgia taking over her eyes. “Robert was a medic and I was a nurse. We both served in World War Two, European Theater.” She smiles at the memories. “We were so young then, barely twenty. We were really just kids…”
She shakes herself out of her thoughts and looks at me. “He was a child of Apollo, you see. He used to serve as Director in the Cohort Five infirmary. I used to grow herbs for him back then…” She smiles. “You and your siblings all have the same eyes.”
I involuntarily bring my hand to trace the shape of my eyes, wracking my mind to remember if Jeremy also had the same eyes.
“He died years ago, back when Damian and Julia were kids.” We turn another corner and begin to walk towards a building with a big red sign with white lettering in all caps, ‘INFIRMARY’. “Pain as it is to come into army territory nowadays, it’s worth getting this medicine to those kids.”
The infirmary is a tent-like building with many rooms inside. A sort of makeshift clinic with the occasional staff running around.
When we enter, one of the staff members spots Nana. “Mrs. Ross! Nice to see you!”
Nana smiles and approaches the older teen. “I brought some herbs. Suki told me you needed them for a burn victim?”
The teen smiles sadly and nods. “Yeah. Poor guy, you’d never believe what happened.”
The teen begins to lead us through a row of makeshift patient rooms, separated by curtains. Most are empty, but some have Campers with casts on different body parts and bandages holding them together.
Nana and the staff member talk about what I already knew, Nana punctuating statements with appropriate phrases of concern. As we get closer to the end, I can smell the scent of incense getting stronger in a bid to defeat the smell of bleach. It makes me realize what exactly is so weird about this place compared to any other hospital I’ve been in. The lack of sterile, clinical bareness.
If you look, some of those patient rooms have papers on bedsides, the patient’s wardrobes, armor, and weapons still in easy reach. The predominant scent in the air is not in fact bleach, but the scent of incense burning. It lacks the bright, harsh artificial white lights, instead softly lit by candles in the darker area and most lit by open access to sunlight.
The teen lets us into a room with a heavy wooden door. It’s decorated like an office of sorts with the walls lined with bookshelves. Most of those shelves seem to house various files and papers rather than any books. Most of the books they do have seem to be composition notebooks, perhaps of patient information or records of procedures. Nestled in a corner is a small shrine which only catches my eye because of the way its gold offerings glint from the sunlight. The shrine is in direct line with the windows, designed so that it would get sunlight for as long as the sun was out.
A woman rises from her seat behind the big desk. She appears to be extremely disheveled, a rumpled lab coat thrown over her Camp Jupiter Shirt and beige shorts. Her hair is the same color as mine, her eyes the same as mine. Unlike me, she has lighter skin, near ghostly pale. It’s contrasted extremely by the bags under her eyes, revealing her tiredness.
She sighs heavily.
The teen escorting us clears his throat. “Director, Mrs. Ross is here with a delivery.”
“I can see that, David.”
He shifts on the balls of his feet nervously.
“Well?”
“Huh?”
“Just go, David.”
At the dismissal, he quickly leaves the room, closing the door. The Director groans and slouches back into her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.
“New apprentice?”
“Kid needs to learn to grow a backbone.”
“You don’t usually take in his types.”
She sighs and gets up. I think I hear her bones creak from the exhaustion draped over her frame. “It’s a favor for someone else. Whatever keeps this place running and all that.” She rounds the table and walks to us. When she’s close, she finally notices the presence of Ed and me. “Who’s this?”
“Damian found her on a mission. He asked me to take care of her before her Bidding.”
The Director nods thoughtfully. “You the kid that kept Lewis alive?”
“Yes.”
“Hm. Nice work. Shoddy and rushed, definitely, but it was impressive.”
“Damian wants to poach her.”
The Director scoffs. “He can damn well try.”
“Language.”
The Director smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”
She walks past us to the door. “Follow me. I need to figure out where to keep that stuff.”
We follow her back into the hallway, now walking the other way. As the door closes behind us, I take one last glance at the golden shrine, a final glint in the sunlight.
As we walk, the Director tells Nana about some troubles they’ve been having. It’s anything ranging from how the apprentice, David, broke some glassware recently that they had to replace to how their budget seems to be shrinking. Nana listens diligently, offering suggestions when she can.
“The higher-ups have really begun to get on our butts about supplies.”
“We have always made do with what we could. It was the same way back in my time. Why, you have access to supplies at least. Heavens knows the hoops my husband had to jump through for his patients.”
“That is one improvement, I guess.”
The Director pauses in front of a door to the side. Unlike the other patient rooms, this one is separated by a physical wall, not just a threadbare fabric curtain. Her hand hover over the handle as she looks at us.
“Do you want to see him? Lewis?”
I hesitate, but Nana nods. The Director cracks open the door, letting us in.
The whole room is pretty bare, but it has many windows to the outside, bathing it in sunlight. Despite that, the room remains pretty cool, a comfortable chill. Just like the outside, this room smells of incense. I can see the stick releasing the smoke a little away from Lewis’s bedside.
The bed takes up most of the room, right in the center, framed by bedside tables on either side. Lewis lies on top of it, still as a corpse. If it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, I would have thought that he was dead.
I don’t know what I was expecting to see. Perhaps I was expecting straight out of Grey’s Anatomy with multiple wires and machines hooked up to him. Or maybe I was expecting that he would just lie there in a full body cast like characters from Loony Tunes do.
Instead, Lewis was selectively wrapped in gauze. Most of his arms were covered in bandages and I’d imagine much of his legs are too, under the off-white blanket. His face is still and sleeping, mouth slightly ajar. His face has bandages too, probably for more burns.
I approach his bedside carefully as Nana and the Director talk in hushed whispers.
If I focus, I can feel the weak thrumming of his life energy just underneath his skin. If health life energy circuits were like lively rivers, his was a stream of molasses, dangerously slow and only barely flowing. It was still better than no energy, no flow.
“Go find Liz and give her the herbs. She’s processing them right now with Suki.”
I hear the Director walking towards the bed. She goes to the other side of Ed, checking a clipboard on the other bedside table.
“What’s gonna be his treatment plan?’
She looks up from the clipboard. “All we can do is hope his body can heal itself and until then, we help prevent infection.”
“Can’t you do anything else? Isn’t there anyone else who can heal him? Like I did?”
She raises an eyebrow. “That kind of power shouldn't be wasted on people like Lewis.”
I can see Ed fixing his eyes on her in suspicion. “What do you mean?”
“Resources are finite, Kid. We can't spend valuable talent on lost cases like Lewis.”
“I can help him. If you won’t-”
“Stop.”
I pause.
“You know that guilt you’re feeling right now? Throw it away.”
I don’t- that’s not- I’m not guilty. I don’t feel guilty. (But I do . I feel guilty that I couldn’t have saved him completely. I feel terrible that I raised Jason to believe casualties like Lewis are acceptable losses. I’m afraid that Jason takes after me-).
“I could’ve saved him. If I did more-”
“That’s not the story.” She puts down the clipboard and leans over Lewis. She fishes out a small flashlight from her pocket and shines it into Lewis’s eyes, looking for signs of movement. “Don’t you know? It was a freak lightning strike. There's a bad storm out there. April showers and all that.”
“That wasn’t-”
She straightens herself and turns off the light. “It was auspicious that the party found the son of Jupiter in that storm. Gods know what could’ve happened to him. You understand, don’t you, Cadet?”
Her stare is intense, as if she is trying to push me away with just that glare. It’s a pressing glare, a telepathic warning. She knows she’s lying. She knows that I know she’s lying. But why would she need me to spout the lie?
(Jason. That’s why. It wouldn’t look good to accept a murderous toddler into their ranks. A powerful prince of Olympus? That’s different. Am I terrible for holding Jason above the life of this innocent teenage child -)
I take a shuddering breath. “Of- of course. That’s what happened.”
She picks up the clipboard and a pen, writing something on the notes. “Lewis is one lucky bastard, if he survived a lightning bolt.”
I stare intently at the boy’s face. He looks like he’s in his mid-teens. At this age he should be concerned about Homecoming or how history grades or something far more trivial than dying of a supernatural lightning strike.
The sunlight slowly shifts over his face as the sun moves through the sky. The sunlight only emphasizes his corpse-like palor and the contrasting raw pinkness of his burns peaking through his bandages.
“It wasn’t luck. It was by Father’s grace.”
The Director doesn’t look up from her work. “You’ll find that any god’s grace is in limited supply around here. Best to call it what it is: luck.”
We return to the bakery around 5:00 p.m. How do I know the time, you may ask? Because Nana owns a fucking clock. The first fucking clock I’ve used in a year. That’s fucking how. I’m sorry, but I get to be excited by the most random things especially when I haven’t had the pleasure of most modern amenities in too fucking long.
Nana gives me a sandwich around 6:00 (I love knowing the time), saying that someone will be coming to get me around 7 or later. Sure enough, a little past 7:00, a familiar face enters as we’re closing up shop.
Damian gives me a moment to go get my new pack of things from upstairs. I sling the bag over my shoulders and take a deep breath. Ed stares at me from his perch on the arm of the couch.
“Ready, Ed?”
He crows.
“Yeah, me neither. But you know what they say: the fanfiction must be written.”
He gives me a deadpan glare and hops onto my shoulder.
“I swear that’s a real saying. You’ll understand in a couple years. You bet your ass the first thing I’m doing with a computer is opening fanfiction.net.”
The poor bird leaves me to my crazy self.
When I come back downstairs, Damian is waiting near the door in a full set of armor, holding his helmet in his arms.
I turn around to face Nana. “Thanks for letting me stay for a bit, and for the new stuff.”
She nods and walks around the counter. She then stops in front of me and kneels, pulling me into a plush hug. Ed flaps away on a table to get away from the mushy human feelings. Nana smooths my hair, holding me close.
“You will do great wherever you go, Dear.” She releases me, smoothing down some fly-aways. “Make sure to come meet this old woman whenever you’re in town. I’ll always have your favorite cookies.”
I chuckle. “I promise, Nana.”
She waves at me as I turn around and walk to Damian. With our final goodbyes, Damian escorts me out of the shop and into the muggy Californian night. Now, the streets are lit but candlelight in the street lamps. Every establishment and window has its own ethereal glow. People are still out on the street, but the crowd is thinner than earlier.
“So what exactly happens in a Bidding Ceremony?”
“Most Bidding Ceremonies are private things where a centurion’s assistant or a Captain places forth a bid for new recruits.”
“Most?”
He gestures to all the people taking the same route we are. “Your buddy? His ceremony is going to be a lot more public.”
“I assume that I’m going first?”
“Probably. Your ceremony will most likely take ten minutes at most.”
“I’ll see him? Jason?”
“They want to hold you in the same place, so yes. Most likely.”
I smile.
“I’m sorry.”
“Pardon?”
He guides us around a bend, steering us away from the rest of the pedestrian traffic. The only other people taking this street are other Campers dressed in armor. As we walk farther, I can see that the same Campers have been charged with guiding the crowds to the little spectacle.
“I tried to get you into the third cohort. They denied my request. If it were in my power, I could’ve saved you from the shame of the fifth.”
We get stopped at a checkpoint, again stocked with guards. Damian takes out a card of some sort and shows it to the guard. We are let go without any further questions.
“It’s not shameful to be a part of the fifth cohort.”
He raises a brow. “You’ll change your tone in a couple days. Fifth cohort isn’t a simple downgrade. It’s a nightmare.”
“Your grandfather was part of it wasn’t he? How could you say that?”
His jaw tenses. “My grandpa was a part of it before the likes of Varus shamed it and our entire legion. He was spared all that. The fifth as it is now is best forgotten.”
As it is now… One day, it will be brought glory by the likes of Jason. Then, you will know exactly how good the fifth is. It was mentioned in the story that Jason brought glory back to the cohort… I seem to forget the levels of prejudice shown against it. Sure, they lost the standard, but surely after eighteen years, practically a lifetime in demigod years, they would have forgotten.
We walk towards a tent surrounded by five other guards.
“You deserve better.”
“Why? Because I have power?”
“Absolutely. The gifted and the blessed are naturally better than the rabble. We deserve more.”
“You mean to say Lewis deserved less.”
“I mean-”
We come to a stop in front of the opening to the tent. The guards stop us and Damian shows them the card again. They make us wait outside as one of them checks in with another guard.
Damian whispers under his breath. “What happened to Lewis is an accident.”
I turn to look at Damian, craning my head. I keep my face stoney still. “I love Jason, Damian. He is my brother in all but blood. Today, if it wasn’t for me, my brother would have been a murderer. Whatever Lewis’s rank may be, that’s the truth.”
The guard returns and tells Damian that only I’m allowed in.
Another guard pulls up the tent flap.
I turn to face Damian. “I’m his sister,” I whisper. “What kind of sister would I be if I taught him that not all people deserve the same basic decency.”
The tent flap closes behind me before I can hear his response.
I take a deep breath and look at the figure sitting on a chair, facing away from me. His blond wispy hair peaks over the chair’s back.
“No hug for me?”
Immediately, the toddler turns around, hopping out of the chair. His eyes are wide open and his mouth spilling into an elated smile. “Akka!”
I kneel down as he runs towards me, arms spread wide. He crashes into them as I draw them closed, bringing him as close to me as possible. I can feel tears wetting the fabric of my t-shirt, the same one he’s wearing as well. I slowly card my fingers through his hair.
“I’m here now, Jason. I’m here. Akka’s here.”
It takes a lot for me not to sob with him. I can feel that hollowness in my chest filling as I feel Jason in my arms. The electric thrum of his life energy is a familiar presence that I hated leaving behind all day. That separation is over now.
Sniffling, he peels himself a little away from me, enough to look at me but not enough to completely leave my hug.
“Akka no leave now? Stay?”
I nod. “I’m staying.”
He smiles. “Good.”
I find myself wanting to ask what he did all day and who he met. I want to ask about all the things he saw and all the new experiences he’s had. Ed too fusses over him, hopping onto the top of his head and riffling through his hair like Jason’s a weird colored raven chick. In the face of such familiarity, I realize that I like the amiable silence much better.
Talk can wait.
Jason lifts his head as the tent flap opens again. Reluctantly, I leave our hug and turn around, pushing Jason behind me.
The new arrival is fully armored, just like Damian was. She takes off her helmet, letting medium length brunette hair cascade down the side of her neck in a braid. She’s smiling, kindly.
“You must be Carmina, one of the new recruits.” Jason pokes his head around my side. “And you must be Jason.” Seeing him, her smile strains a little and I can tell that there is a fear inside her, facing this toddler. (Once upon a time, I would have called such fear silly. That was before I saw that same child nearly kill a man- no. Kill a boy, felt that same boy’s life leave him.)
“I am Mollie Bennet, Secretary to Centurion Eliza Gomez of Cohort 5.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Jason goes back to hiding behind me.
“I’ve come here to place a Bid for you.”
I scrunch my brow. “I thought four more people had to be here? Even if they don’t want to place bids for me.”
She purses her lips. “Under normal circumstances, that would be true. However, they are currently busy preparing for Jason’s Bidding Ceremony. Mine was the only cohort willing to put forth a bid, so I’m the only one who is here.”
She says it like she’s expecting to console or at least that I would cry at the thought. Instead, I just nod. It was a foregone conclusion that I would join the fifth. I don’t have anywhere else to go and no one powerful enough willing to vouch for me.
“Alright. Well I guess I have no choice right?” I make it feel like a joke, but neither of us laugh.
“Great. Now, if you come with me, you can watch his ceremony with the rest of our cohort.”
Jason tugs my shirt. I turn around and kneel to meet his eye. I can feel Mollie’s eyes on my back. “Hey, Bud.”
“No go. You said. You said no go.”
I ruffle his hair. “It’ll be alright, Jason. You’ll be with me shortly enough. Just pick the fifth cohort. Then it’ll all be fine.”
He smiles and nods. However, Mollie clears her throat. I stand and turn to face her, brows scrunching again. That smile is back on her face again, the one expecting to console crying children. It is strange that such a smile should be such a common occurrence on anyone’s face.
“That won’t be possible I’m afraid.”
“What does that mean? Jason wants to join the fifth.” He has to join the fifth. Canon cannot be broken.
“When in the case of multiple recruits arriving to Camp in one day, both recruits may not be placed in the same cohort. Not without Praetor approval.”
“What the-”
“It is the way of things.”
Jason growls and steps around me. “No! No take Akka away.”
“I’m afraid-”
“NO!” Sparks alight across his skin and I can see Mollie visibly flinch. I wonder if she knows what exactly happened to Lewis. I wonder whether she knows that Jason will murder if he thinks it’s right. (Only failures of sisters would ever allow their brothers to become so demented. Innocent children. Innocent. Whatever was I teaching him? Cody, Cody, Cody-)
Some of the guards open the tent and flood in.
“Is everything alright?”
The one who speaks is immediately suspicious of Mollie, but turns his attention to Jason when Jason snarls again.
“Ev-everything is alright. Just a misunderstanding. The young prince does not want to be separated from the girl.”
Jason snarls as some of the guards inch forward, further invading our space.
Mollie holds out her hands placatingly. “It’s alright, Jason. We can talk about this.”
“No! No. Leave. Akka.”
The head of the guards seems to pull Mollie aside, whispering into her ears. I try to overhear their conversation above the rushing of blood in my ears. The subtle dig of Ed’s talons in my shoulders keeps me grounded.
“He’s not going to leave her. Haven't you heard what happened…”
“... no choice. Praetors’ orders.”
“I don’t want… electrocuted.”
“Get her out of here… I’ll make her leave.”
“I’m not… dangerous.”
“Praetors won’t like… take her away.”
The writing was written on the wall. No amount of Jason’s growling and snarling and general feralness was going to get us out of this one. Damian was demonstrative of the way these people think. If indeed the gifted deserve more, they will not let Jason settle for the fifth. Maybe Canon!Jason was older when he came here, more able to stand up against the wishes of those that want to just exploit him.
Regardless, right now, I have to live another day, return to him another day.
As the two talk, I drop down to my knees and hug Jason from the back. He seizes his growls and looks at me, confused.
“Akka?”
Mollie and the guard stop talking.
“I’m sorry, Tonitrus. I thought I had more time to prepare you.”
“No. No. No leave.”
“They won’t let you come with me Jason.” I drop my voice and hold onto his hands. “They would hurt me to keep me away from you.”
A low grrr resonates from his throat. The sparks return to his skin. “No let them. I kill them, Akka. I stop them.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, I card my fingers through his hair.
“No, Tonitrus. You aren’t strong enough to kill all of them.” Not that’s wrong, Jason or murder is bad, Jason. Jason wasn’t strong enough to deliver on his threat. He is his father’s son. You don’t control lightning. And that’s why Lewis died, because I do not have the courage, the willpower to say no to my Olympian Prince.
“Come with me. Stay”
“I can’t Jason.”
“Don’ wanna leave you. Can’t make me.”
“You have to.”
“No!”
“Jason!”
The peanut gallery of guard inches ever closer, near enough to pull me and him apart at any second.
“For me, Akka. For me.”
I feel Ed glaring at all of them for tearing apart his chicks. The corvid has his eyes set on vengeance in the form of torn eyeballs. He awaits my word.
“Don’t ask for this Jason. Do not ask me to give you something I can’t.”
“Please, Akka !”
He launches himself into my arms again. I try to contain my rolling sobs. Defeat is not something I take with grace. Today, I was defeated because of my powerlessness. At the end of the day, I had no one to watch my back, no one to keep Jason and I together. Maybe that is what the Director meant by any god’s grace being limited here.
“Please, Kanna. This is one wall that I cannot cross. Not now. Someday, yes. But not now. I love you, Jason. Te amo, Frater.”
I don’t get to hear his final words. They drag me and Mollie away, saying that the ceremony is to start soon. In a blur, Mollie tugs us away, quietly apologizing for her actions. She means none of it, I know. She’s happy to be away from the half-feral psychotic toddler. Ed flaps his wings angrily but does nothing. I didn’t command him.
It’s a slide show.
I remember being escorted to a group of other kids my age, introduced to none of them. They all ignore me in favor of watching the Praetors, Augur, and Centurions parade down the Via Principia. I don’t recognize any of those faces, my eyes blurry with unshed tears.
Jason walks down last, a tiny child stared at by hundreds of eyes. He is escorted by five guards, one from every cohort they say. He looks so lonely in the spotlight, the light reflecting off his golden hair. He’s lost, lacking a guide. That hollow pit in my stomach rips open a little further.
“Who here places a bid for Jason, Son of Jupiter?”
As expected, each cohort’s centurion puts forth a bid. All except the fifth cohort. It causes quite a whisper among the other cohorts, causing them to share hurried glances at the fifth. They give Jason a mic after all bids are placed, asking him to declare.
His little voice hesitates. I can feel his eyes searching for me in the crowd. If I were able, I would have summoned a ray of sunlight to point exactly at me, to lead my brother back to me, to take him back into my arms and away from this strange place.
He struggles.
One of the people, I don’t know who, walks up to him and hugs him. They whisper something in his ear. I imagine that his lips press into the line they do when he’s thinking really hard, emphasizing the little cut on his lip.
After they leave him and return to their spot.
Jason takes a deep breath.
“First Cohort.” He breathes it out like a whisper, a shameful secret. My heart breaks again, imagining what he must be going through. Three years old and already a political pawn. Three years old and already separated from his family and placed in the care of strangers.
Someone walks forward— I assume— but I’m too much of a coward to watch any further.
“Jason joins the First Cohort of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata, Pride of Rome. Go forth and join your new brothers and sister at arms, Cadet.”
All of us clap. It drowns out the voices, both that belong to me and the ones that never leave my mind alone. As the rest of us are shepherded away, I’m told to go find an Izumi Nara, supposedly my guide to Camp.
As the crowd swims around me, I swear I see a familiar ghostly boy. He walks towards me even as I walk through the crowd. His arms envelope me in a phantom hug, pressing his head to the top of mine.
“Mane fortis, Parva Domina.”
Just as silently as he arrived, Nameless vanishes into the air. Ed is all I have now.
As I go meet Izumi, I can feel Cody’s dog tag burning against my skin.