IX: I Totally Forgot to Call

Things started getting easier in the daytime about a month after my trip to Hades, and I was able to build up a half-decent life. The nightmares still went on every night, but I'd gotten new ways to cope with them. Nico sticked around, honestly taking advantage of the free place of living and the free food.

One evening during mid-october, around two months after Nico had so carelessly moved in with me, I was outside, getting groceries. I carried the bag easily, as I put my wallet between my teeth to unlock the door. From the other side of the door, I heard Nico speaking to someone, which honestly surprised me quite a lot.

Opening the door slowly, ready to scold him for bringing friends over to my house, I saw him leaning on the kitchen counter talking to himself. He heard the door open and looked over murderously.

"Erica, why is Connor Stoll sending Iris-messages to you?" he inquired, raising his eyebrows.

I put the bag on the floor and threw a pack of his favorite cookies at his face. He yelped as it hit him on the nose, after passing through the Iris-Message and disrupting it, and he caught it off the floor. I'd remembered how I told Connor I'd call him, and never did.

"Pack the groceries, and then ask questions." I shrugged, and closed the door.

He walked toward the bag, dragging it across the floor and into the kitchen.

"So why-"

"I don't see the groceries fully packed yet." I dismissed him, as I walked into my room.

I grabbed the phone, dialing in the numbers written on the paper strip with cheap pencil. The phone rang twice, and then someone picked up.

"Stoll residence!" a woman's voice greeted cheerfully. A bit in the distance, I heard Connor's disgruntled scream.

"MOM, WHO CALLED? PASS ME THE PHONE, PASS ME THE PHONE!"

I heard the static sounds of the phone being ripped away from his mother's hands, and the giggles of the woman and Travis in the background.

"Connor?" I said, laughing.

"Erica! What's up?" he greeted, and I could almost hear his smirk.

"Hey, sorry for not calling. Honestly, things have been kinda weird, and I–"

"Nah, nah, it's cool, I get it, that's why I called first!" he assured.

"How'd you know my address?" I knew he'd seen me get off the bus, but he'd need to know the exact street and number.

"Oh, yeah. A friend of mine owed me a favor, so I asked him to tail you to your doorstep." he explained, as if it was totally normal for him to do so.

"Right, right." I muttered.

"Do you wanna hang out some day? Public schools are having a week strike next week."

"Oh, yeah, sure. I don't have a lot to do, pick a time."

Before he answered, the line went cold, and the phone beeped. I wondered if maybe there was some connection issue? Barely a minute after, an Iris-Message appeared above my bed.

Connor was sitting cross-legged on his lower bunk, wearing a t-shirt with a dinosaur. He looked like he'd just showered, his hair dripping with water.

"Travis threw a knife onto the telephone. It's broken now." he explained, chuckling. In the background, I could hear the faint yelling of his mother.

"Jesus Christ…" I muttered, laughing. I counted the days in my head. It was Saturday. "What about Wednesday?"

He nodded enthusiastically, as he tossed back a lock of his brown hair that dangled before his eyes. He grabbed a pack of Sour Patch Kids and started munching on the candy.

"We can meet at five, at this skate park I know." he suggested, as he chewed on his gummies.

"That's kind of late." I answered, and he stared at me blank-eyed.

"You've got a curfew!?" he exclaimed, as his hands scrambled in the plastic for another one of the same color. "You're… wait, how old are you?"

"I'm turning seventeen next month." I replied, before gasping. "I don't have a curfew! I'm not twelve!"

He laughed at my reaction, before raising an eyebrow at me.

"Oh yeah, why is Nico di Angelo in your house?" he inquired, eyeing me suspiciously. "Are you two..?"

I scowled at his suggestion, mimicking gagging.

"No, Stoll, for gods' sake! He's like… thirteen." I answered, twisting my face in mild disgust. "Plus, he's like a brother to me."

"YOU'RE REPLACING ETHAN???" he shrieked, so comically that I couldn't help but dying of laughter. "He'd be heartbroken."

"Nico is secretly Ethan reincarnated, but don't tell anyone." I whispered, looking around. His chuckles were a pleasant sound, crisp and worriless.

I unsheathed Vendetta, grabbed some rust-proof oil that it didn't need, and started polishing it with a cloth.

"Oh, and for wednesday, bring your sword." he warned.

"I always take my sword." I shrugged in answer, with a faint smile. "Why a skate park at night?"

"I don't jump a lot in front of other people." he answered, scoffing as he stuffed three gummies into his mouth.

Huh. He seemed desperate to show it to me. I finished polishing my sword and left it standing against the wall.

"I've never seen you fighting with that sword." he pointed out. He was no longer holding the candies. "Is it new? It shapeshifts, yeah? It just sprung out from a lighter."

"You watch very closely, huh?" I smiled, as I lifted the sword again to show him up close. "This was Ethan's sword. It's called Vendetta."

I examined its carefully crafted grip, made in black metal and adorned with a brownish band, intertwined around the meticulous hilt. Its crossguard was sharp, having spikes that crossed upwards and outwards. Its pommel formed a type of sharp cone, made in silver.

From it dangled a short chain, that attached some sort of ring with spikes whose use we never figured out, and ended up being the inflictor of the scratches and cuts on Ethan's fingers as he mastered the use of the sword.

In the center of the rainguard sat a piece of Acheri Amber, sharp-edged and violent. Superstition mumbled that the presence of the amber formed from resin of the burning willows grown in the banks of Acheron would make each kill more painful for those struck upon.

Its blade was the most beautiful part of the weapon. The hardest metal known to the demigods, adamantine, crossed with silver. Still, it had shattered over the body of Kronos. It'd been brought back together, but the scars still showed the pieces in which it broke into. The blade was mainly straight, and the curves of its ricasso were very subtle, if visible at all. Its width thinned as it moved toward the point, with the exception of two pairs of "teeth" that sprung from the edges.

"It's very beautiful." Connor stated, sounding calm for once as he gazed into the blade of the sword. "What is it made of?"

"Adamantium-silver alloy." I replied, as I passed my finger through its sharp edge. "Mother had it forged for him."

"Nemesis, huh?" he muttered, seeming a bit lost in his thoughts. "That's cool. Did she make anything for you?"

I reached for my bag, sitting under my desk. I shuffled briefly to find the linked sheathes, and took them out. The black leather was cold to my touch.

"My throwing knives. My Erinyes." I answered, saying the greek name for the Gracious Ones. "Megaera, the envious, Alecto, the angry, and Tisiphone, the vengeful."

I pulled out Megaera, admiring its elegance.

The curved celestial alloy blade was adorned with a decorative pattern, engraved on one of the sides of the blade. The handle was made with mortal bronze and copper, carved to form snakes writhing and hissing. It wasn't heavy, and its curves and shape made it aerodynamic, easier to throw. The knife was at most seven inches long — not too short to not be lethal. In its pommel, a snake held a ruby between her fangs.

"It suits you." he said, and then he chuckled. "You stabbed me with one of those once. I didn't even have time to pull it out or anything, it just disappeared."

"Oh, yeah. That's a special thing they do. Where did it hit you?" I asked, already quite sure it had been Tisiphone to bite him. He pointed to a space on his back a bit below his shoulder. "It didn't rip out a pound of your meat it on its way out, did it?"

He stared at me in horror.

"Huh!?" he stuttered, starting to try to look at his shoulder. I giggled at his reaction.

"It wasn't Alecto that stabbed you. I had that coated with Kampe venom, and here you still live and breath. Megaera is the envious for a reason. When I throw it and it comes back… it brings a piece of whatever it was attached to."

"That's actually awesome!" he exclaimed, with a huge smile. He reached down, and unsheathed a katana. "Look at this."

I couldn't help but laugh at the irony, although it was a pretty sword.

"Where'd you find that?" I asked, surprised. My dad used to have a huge thing for katanas, and he would've freaked out if he saw one made for demigods.

"Dunno." he shrugged. "I just saw it around in the Attic. No idea who the fuck went to Japan for that though."

"Do you know what it's made of?" I asked. It didn't glow like Celestial Bronze or Adamantium.

"Beckendorf said it was humanly steel, but enchanted?" he said, glancing up as if he wasn't quite sure. "I don't know exactly the right way to handle it, but it was the best match. It's not heavy, it's pretty fucking sharp, and it doesn't break into pieces when I cut something mid-jump."

I pictured him slicing down on a dummy at inhuman speeds, and a sword simply snapping in two. It was very possible, if he didn't have the right technique.

"You have to take it when we meet." I mentioned, curious on what its grip felt like. "My dad is a freak for shit like this. He used to have a massive collection of katanas, I swear."

"Should I show it to him before we take off?" he asked, casually, without realizing.

"Oh, my dad is, uh–"

"HOLY SHIT, I'M SO SORRY." he cried, covering his mouth with both his hands. "I completely forgot about that, gods."

"Don't freak out, it's fine!" I laughed, as I sheathed my knife. "Don't worry about it."

He chuckled as well, but I saw how he still seemed apologetic.

"We'll have an epic swordfight in the skate park, at night when only the moon and the stars shine." I announced exaggeratedly, but it did seem to cheer him up.

"Yes! You promised to teach me how to fight." he remembered, as he sheathed the katana.

"I'll do–" I started, but there was an abrupt crash outside my room. "Shit, what was that? I have to go."

I swiped away the message before he could say goodbye, held Vendetta, and opened my bedroom door, to find a glass broken before my door and Nico on his fours right next to it. My eyes shifted between him and the glass.

"Why did you throw a glass at my room?" I scowled, as I crossed my arms and Vendetta shrunk into the size of a lighter.

"Uhm, right, about that…" he muttered, laughing embarrassedly, as he picked up the shards and pushed them together into a corner.

"Were you eavesdropping on me?" I inquired, furrowing my brows as he went pink. "Why would you eavesdrop me on me and Connor?"

I scoffed, as I went to grab a broom to clean up the mess. I scooped it up and threw it into the trash can. He stood up with clumsy movements, twisting around his ring like he always did when he was uncomfortable. His lips pursed into a thin sickly line.

"I was just worried." he confessed, as he did a little jump to sit down on the kitchen counter. "Maybe he had like blackmail or something on you."

I washed my hands and splashed a fistful of water onto his face. He squinted, backing his neck like a turtle and snarling at me.

"Don't worry about worthless stuff like that, weirdo." I answered, cleaning my hands on the kitchen towel.

He shrugged, pushing another cookie into his mouth.

"I'm just saying, you should be careful about who you hang out with." he muttered. "Why does he want to meet with you at night? It's probably a trap or some scheme to murder you."

"That's ridiculous. Why would he do that?"

Nico looked into my eyes, dead serious. He put down his biscuit and brushed some crumbs off of his pale skin.

"Don't forget you killed many of his friends, Erica. Not everyone is forgiving and stupid like Percy Jackson."

His tone made my skin shiver, and his charcoal black eyes didn't help either. I couldn't help but be slightly convinced of what he was saying. I'd already told him that his sister had died at my hands, but he answered that he already knew and that he was glad someone like me had done it, although he hated me for it.

In the end, I only muttered an unconvinced:

"Connor's just a friend."

We ate something simple that night, and then he left to take care of something. He usually napped during the day and went out at night, on mysterious affairs.

My dream that night was strange.

***

I opened my eyes and saw the backyard of the Vermont hideout, feet away from the obsidian trapdoor. The patch of grass I'd cried on still laid lifeless, and somehow seemed even darker now. The ground seemed rough and calloused, and the sickly yellowish grass that stuck up from it remained unaffected by the howling wind, as if there was a dome around it.

However, the sprout I had killed with my Adastreia dákry (tears of Nemesis or weeping hellfire were an alternate name to it, and it had a similar effect to the spilling of semi-godly blood) had grown into a leafless tree nonetheless. Its brownish branches were angled and contorted, but still it looked regal in nature.

It blended in perfectly with the grayish sky, glowering above the green hills fearfully. The horrid wind screeched and grumbled, dragging some raindrops across. Just as I looked back at the tree, I saw five gods discussing about something around it.

"She will need a steed for her new ordeals." my mother announced. Her hair fell in dark brown shoulder-long locks, resting on her leather jacket. The gods wore their mortal disguises, as if this meeting was a brief interlude to their everyday life.

Nemesis was right. Skotos had been called back by her mistress, and if I was to go on new quests I needed something that was mine.

"And she deserves a reward, I believe." another goddess added. Her shining blond hair was straight and went down to the small of her back. She wore a white blouse and a black knee-length skirt, and she looked like she'd been in an office. Her voice seemed familiar, and her pose convinced me that she was Nike.

"And she's getting a fucking tree she grew?" Ares meddled, eyeing the plant. "I mean, y'all aren't even going to make her something nice, or anything? Isn't it kinda cheap to just give her something that she made–"

Nemesis glared at him as Artemis snarled some insults at the god of war. Before it could escalate, Hermes interrupted them with a brief explanation.

"It would have blossomed into Phlegethon maple if it was closer to the Underworld."

Phlegethon Maple. I knew that tree, Iapetus had taught me of it. Its brown trunk and branches always looked sickly and wilting, because its power was not stored there. Its fiery big leaves, instead, ornamented the landscape proudly. If harvested properly, every part of it had magical properties. Its wood was used as firewood for eternal fires, its sap could grant its consumer powers we'd only hear in epics, and the leaves… The rumors almost didn't seem real.

The Phlegethon was an angry stream, hot and burning. Its water burnt hotter than the forges of Hephaestus, more intense than the master hearth of Hestia. It was associated with fire, death, and rebirth.

Nemesis kneeled to the floor, putting her hand on the dirt as her pupils turned red and spells cascaded from her mouth like words of flattery.

"Oh, you're playing Demeter now?" Ares mocked, laughing, but Hermes paid him no mind, instead looking at Artemis.

She closed her eyes, muttering something in ancient greek, and the wind screamed louder. They remained unaffected, until there was a cracking sound inside the dome. The tree's branches started to twist, breaking and moving dryly. One of the branches stood out, molding itself until it became something that looked similar to a bird's head. New branches started to grow, like bones, and the head turned in unnatural angles until it found me, squealing.

Nike walked toward the creature, resting a hand on its beak as it turned golden, and so did its claws, still attached or part of the tree. Its eyes shone.

With a flick of Hermes' staff, feathers flowered from the branches, brown and gold with flecks of white. The birds' wings crackled, and itself looked like a type of decoration, set on a dying tree. Until Ares sighed and pointed a finger at the tree. It went up in flames, scorching the creature and the earth beneath it. I heard another series of squeals.

Then, as if rising from Hell, the fledgling glided vertically, soundlessly shattering the dome that separated it from the rest of the world. It was glorious. Its beak and claws looked as though they were solid gold, as did the tips of its feathers, light but deadly. Its eyes shone golden, surrounded by black and brown feathers that graded into blond and gold along its long tail.

The tree's branches now wore divine flames, as if it were a replacement for its barren leaves. Only when I watched more closely did I realize that the flames were its leaves.

The hawk's beak opened, and it let out a high pitched croak, that echoed throughout the whole valley, silencing the screaming wind with its own howl. Its large wings still looked ablaze, small flames still trailing on the ends of its golden feathers. On the lower ground, the deities watched as the hawk circled the hills, crying in dominance.

"Lydian griffin." my mother muttered, and midair the hawk's head sharpened, its wings widened, and overall it grew larger than two humans. Its feathers turned silverish, glowing even under the clouds. Its claws were sharper now, slashing through the wind. This time, it was less of a cawk than a roar, as its golden eyes widened and a golden jet gushed from its eagle beak.

It shapeshifted according to my mother's commands, into any flying creature. It shone through the sky in might and elegance, displaying its own glorious power. It was aware that I watched him, and regularly its eyes would cross with mine, proud and unwavering.

"Alastor." Nemesis stated its name. Alas by itself meant winged, and the name had been an epithet of Zeus: defender of the living, avenger of the dead. Nemesis turned her head, facing me as the hawk circled her and landed on her shoulder. "His name is Alastor."