fic: Death's Dare [PJO, Rachel/Nico, R, 12/?]
Title: Death's Dare
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Rachel/Nico, with appearances from the rest of the cast and the gods
Summary: After an attempt on her life, Apollo decides Rachel needs a bodyguard and who better to take the job than a certain son of Hades? Too bad they're not going to make things easy for each other, especially when it comes to their feelings.
Notes: Finally found the time to get this put up in-between playing the summer camp counselor. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: Danger, Danger
There was no guarantee that Apollo would actually be at his temple tonight, Rachel realized a bit belatedly as the cab entered Midtown Manhattan.
She usually wasn't the one that did the visiting out of the two of them - Apollo usually dropped by at Camp Half-Blood or elsewhere if he needed to talk to her. She'd had an appointment the last time she'd visited, which had been perfunctory sort of thing, but Apollo had stressed that the temple was open to her any time she needed to stop by.
However, it looked like her chances of Apollo being around were pretty high, if the way traffic had crawled to a standstill on the avenue and the crowds of people on the sidewalk surrounding Radio City Music Hall were any indication. The god usually liked to make an appearance whenever there was an award show or concert being held inside.
Rachel hoped it was just a concert and not something big she'd have to crash like a movie premiere; she'd like to get in and out without causing as much of a scene as possible. Her father still wasn't happy with her over those gossip picture photos from the other day, and the last thing she needed right now was to show up on Access Hollywood as their latest spoiled, gatecrasher heiress.
Thankfully, it was just a concert, although that didn't make getting into the building without a ticket any easier. She'd managed to sweet talk her way into the lobby with one of the boys at the box office, but one of the gray haired upper managers caught her trying to sneak upstairs in a clearly forbidden area, and hadn't seemed particularly impressed with her claims of needing to see Apollo at first.
“I have no idea what you're talking about, miss,” he said, trying to block her passage up the stairs. “If you don't have a ticket, I'm afraid I'm going to have to see you to the door.”
“I'm not here to see the show, and don't give me any of that 'I don't know' bullcrap,” Rachel replied, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet firmly on the floor. “I need to see Apollo. Right now.”
The manager kept up his pretense of confusion long enough for Rachel to wonder if maybe he really didn't know who she was talking about, but then he rolled his eyes and huffed rather unprofessionally.
“Look, honey, we're very busy right now,” he said in a condescending tone, one Rachel was sure he practiced on his grandchildren whenever they visited. “Why don't you come back and visit your daddy sometime later, okay?”
Rachel made a face. “Gross, Apollo is so not my dad.”
If anything, the manager's next roll of the eyes was even more dramatic than the first and the expression on his face clearly read, I don't get paid nearly enough to deal with this sort of thing. Rachel wondered how many people looking for the immortal he had turned down over the years.
“And I am not here for a godly hook-up, if that's what you were thinking,” she added before he could say another word. The manager looked skeptical. “I'd be wearing better shoes if I were, okay? I'm the Oracle of Delphi. Hasn't Apollo filled you in on that position yet?”
“I can't say he has,” the manager sniffed, still looking skeptical. “I was under the impression that the Oracle was a mummy in attic.”
The Olympian gossip train could not possibly be this slow. Rachel wondered if it would be easier just to throw her dad's name around when she came up against mortals like this - they all seemed to respond better to that than her position as the Oracle.
“That was seven years ago. I'm the brand spanking new Oracle, and I need to see my boss,” she responding, using her best authoritative voice. “Now.”
The manager's face began to purple at her tone, but before he could call security or say another word, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and Apollo's boyish face appeared beside him.
“Easy, Clarence, I've got this one,” Apollo said, grinning charmingly at the older man. Rachel was surprised to see him blush and splutter a little - clearly the effect of Apollo's good looks had no limit to age or gender. “Rachel, babe, good to see you. You here for the show?”
Apollo turned his blue gaze on her. For a moment, there was a flash of darkness on his face but it was gone so quickly, Rachel wondered if it was just the light playing tricks on her.
“No, just here to talk to you,” she said, flashing him her best smile. “I hope that's okay?”
The immortal let go of Clarence, and stepped down beside Rachel, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close to him. Rachel stared at him in surprise, hardly expecting this sort of reaction from him. Apollo didn't usually initiate physical contact between them - aside from a few playful bats on the shoulder or that kiss on the cheek when she had graduated high school, touching had never been part of their interactions. The arm around her shoulder didn't feel nice or welcome at all; in fact, it was downright uncomfortable and stifling. Possessive, even.
Apollo wasn't doing a very good job of proving to Clarence that she wasn't his fling for the night with this kind of behavior either, Rachel noted, and she felt apprehension settle in low in her stomach. It was now occurring to her what might have been on Hades's note, and that she might have unknowingly stepped into the lion's den.
But Apollo wouldn't do anything to hurt her.
“It's always okay, Rachel m'dear,” Apollo replied smoothly, leading her up the stairs and past Clarence. “Now, should we talk in my office or in my private box? I've been assured this show is going to be absolutely brilliant and I'd hate for you to miss it...”
Would he?
*
The Librarian was nowhere in sight when Nico entered Athena's Library that evening, which was probably a plus for him because he still hadn't found his library card and Malcom Vanterpool didn't even bother to check him in his excitement to get Nico into the library to show him what he had found.
“Thank the gods you filed this request because I would have been stuck alphabetizing Demeter's 700 apple pie recipes all weekend otherwise,” Malcolm said as he led him through the the winding stacks further in the library. “I was under the impression I'd be doing this kind of research the entire time, but The Librarian has been giving me grunt work while she gave everyone else the cool stuff. I only got this 'cause everyone else was busy. Story of my life, seriously.”
Malcolm had been the second-in-command of the Athena cabin for as long Nico had been around at Camp Half-Blood, and he had been passed over head of cabin duties for someone a little younger than him after Annabeth had left for college. He had been bitterly disappointed by this, Nico remembered, and he thought it was too bad that he was still getting shafted even outside of camp. Some things never changed, it appeared.
“So you said you found something interesting?” Nico asked, recalling what the other boy had said in his IM. He had been beyond relieved to get that call and get out of the apartment - just being around Rachel hurt, and this was the perfect thing to distract himself from his unhappiness. “I didn't think you'd get results this fast, actually.”
Malcolm's cheeks flushed as they turned into a cross section of their aisle, going deeper into one of the older areas of the library. Nico had never gone past the more modern areas in his previous visits, but he'd heard stories about the inner sanctum of Athena's Library, with its books and documents from across time and around the world - mostly from Annabeth, who would drone for hours about the ten million different types of architecture that were represented in the library or whatever.
The section they were wandering in now looked like the shelves had been plucked straight from some ancient stone monastery in Europe - there were even flickering torches in their brackets on the walls and a damp chill in the air.
“I, uh, actually didn't finish the research all the way, you see,” Malcolm admitted, looking thoroughly embarrassed with himself. “I found enough to give you some answers though, and I figured having something to work with would be better than nothing, especially since you marked it as a Class Five priority.”
Nico nodded. “Yeah, thanks Malcolm. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he said, and then his gray eyes flickered over to him. “Mind if I ask why you're researching death threats on Oracles though? Something hasn't happened to Rachel, has it?”
“Not yet,” Nico said stiffly, his hands tightening to fists at his sides. “Someone's been trying to kill her, but we don't know who. She painted those pictures of the monsters I gave you guys, and I think they're connected somehow.”
Beside him, Malcolm faltered in his step briefly, and Nico glanced at him just in time to see his face drain with color.
“Malcolm?”
“Oh, Hera's Sweet Panties, I can't believe I didn't make the connection!” he exclaimed, smacking himself in the forehead. “No wonder I get stuck doing the grunt work, I'm such an idiot! I should've called you in days ago...”
Malcolm hurried down the aisles, nearly running, and Nico followed after him, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Malcolm,” he repeated as they turned and stopped in an open space stacked with old study desks. “Do you know who the assassins are?”
There were books and scrolls and tablets from all eras of time scattered over the tables - clearly marking this as been Malcolm's work station. But the thing that caught Nico's eye was the giant tapestry hanging on the far wall behind them.
Even though it had to have been created hundreds of years ago, mostly likely by the goddess Athena herself, the tapestry featured a map of the modern world, colored with the most interesting shades of blue, greens, and yellows. The colors had to represent something - the pattern was just too random for someone at Athena's level of craft - and... were those colors moving?
The sound of Malcolm slamming a book onto the table drew his attention away from the tapestry, and he approached the other boy, who was swearing under his breath.
“Unfortunately, I'm about 90 percent sure I know who's after Rachel now,” he said, flipping through his book before finding the page he wanted and turning the book so Nico could see the illustration.
Featured on the page was a classical portrait of a golden skinned, blonde haired young man wearing a red robe and riding in a chariot. He had been painted in a fighting pose, as if he were about to strike someone down - in his aloft hand, he held a hammer.
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Nico murmured, sinking into the chair across from Malcolm as recognition set in and disbelief began to flow through his system.
“Nico,” Malcolm continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, “what do you know about the Norse gods?”
*
“You look like you need to relax. Champagne?”
Rachel tore her gaze away from the view of Rockefeller Center far below her, and glanced at the flute of bubbling liquid Apollo was holding out for her. She hadn't said much to him on the elevator ride up to his office but he seemed to have been content with that, humming an uplifting song to fill her silence.
The humming, at least, was normal. The arm he had kept draped over her shoulders the entire way, the weird, dim setting he had kept the office lights on, and now this offering of champagne weren't. After seven years, she was used to Apollo's outrageous flirtation with her - it was part of his personality and anyway, he had never been serious with his pursuit. But these gestures were subdued, unfamiliar, and Rachel was getting the definite impression that Apollo was being serious this time.
“Thank you,” she said, careful to avoid touching his hands as she took the glass from him. She took a sip, and glanced back out the window, wondering if maybe she was just misreading all the signs and the dread churning in her stomach was an overreaction. “I have been kind of stressed lately.”
“Totally understandable, with all the monster attacks in the in recent weeks. I'm sure you've only noticed a few of them personally,” Apollo replied, catching her look of surprise in her reflection in the window. “But they've been increasing in numbers lately; we haven't seen this many on the island since the Battle of New York. Their presence is enough to drive up anyone stress levels, regardless if you're being hunted by them or not... Speaking of monsters, where's your bodyguard? Shouldn't he be skulking around here somewhere?”
“I came alone,” Rachel replied slowly. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Nico.”
She took a long drink of champagne, buying herself an extra few seconds to gather her courage.
There was no mistaking the disdain in Apollo's voice nor the slight frown that crinkled his otherwise perfect brow when Nico was mentioned. That dead, dreadful weight in her stomach became even heavier. Apollo had to know what had happened between her and Nico - it would be naive to assume otherwise. She wondered if he was just waiting for her to confirm it before he got angry and blasted her to bits.
“Oh?” Apollo asked, sounding hopeful. “Are you unhappy with him? Do you want him replaced? Because I can have him out of your life with a snap of my fingers if you say so, Rachel.”
“No, that's not - ”
“I always knew those kids of Hades were going to cause trouble. They can barely keep each other and their plants alive, let alone someone else.”
Rachel turned away from the window so she could meet his gaze.“Nico's done a perfectly acceptable job of keeping me safe, Lord Apollo. I'm still in one piece, aren't I?” The immortal sighed, as if it pained him to have to consider this, and then he nodded reluctantly. “I want to keep Nico around, except I thought you should that things have changed... between Nico and me.”
Apollo's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at her, and the intensity of his gaze made her hands tremble slightly.
“So,” he said after a long moment. “The boy's not quite as unattractive as some of his previous siblings were, I take it?”
A furious blush spread across Rachel's cheeks. “I'm sorry, it just sort of happened. We didn't go beyond kissing - ”
“Oh, I know all about what Mr. di Angelo did with you,” Apollo interrupted peevishly, sweeping toward his desk. He picked up a copy of the issue of the Post with her picture in it and waving it at her. “Cavorting around town like a love sick fool, flaunting the rules right under my nose, making me the laughingstock of Olympus... I should have vaporized the boy a long time ago, but his father had to get all noble and caring about him.”
At the mention of the lord of death's name, Rachel became aware of Hades's letter in her jacket pocket, and pulled it out. Suddenly everything was starting to make a lot more sense.
“Is that what this is about? You threatened Hades to get Nico to stay away from me?”
She held out the letter for him, and Apollo snatched it out of her hands. He glanced at it, made a dismissive snort in regards to the content, and then promptly crushed it in his fist before it erupted in a column of flame.
“Please don't get the impression that the house of Hades is innocent in all of this; he said he'd kill you if I so much as touched a hair on his son's head, and I only did what I had to to reclaim my tarnished honor,” Apollo explained, opening is hand and dumping the ashes from the note carelessly on the carpet. “I told Hades I wouldn't hurt the boy so long as he did his job properly - a job that doesn't including wooing and distracting you, dear Rachel. And as long as he's behaving himself, I won't.”
Well, all of that certainly explained Nico's behavior change. Death threats coming from all directions certainly had a way of killing a romance, and it was such a Nico characteristic to think he had to punish himself for putting her in danger. Oh, they were so going to have a long talking to about this when she got back home...
“But why?” Rachel demanded, following Apollo as he moved toward his desk again. “Why do a couple of kisses matter so much? It's not like Nico bent me over the kitchen counter and had his way with me or anything; he's been very conscious of the rules. In fact, if you want to blame anyone, blame me. I'm the one who started everything in the first place. Nico wouldn't have come near me otherwise.”
Apollo scoffed at this suggestion, plopping down into his leather chair and propping his feet up on the desk. He looked like he belonged in a spread in GQ magazine about young CEOs in that pose, and he knew it too.
“Don't be silly, Rachel. Like I'd blame you for any of this,” he replied. “The di Angelo boy was obviously just bored and looking for a challenge, and you were an unfortunate causality of his manipulations. You're undoubtedly very confused. I mean, why else would you pick him over...”
Apollo stopped short, and Rachel's gaze narrowed as she understood the implication. Very carefully, she set her champagne glass on the edge of his desk, although she would've preferred to toss it's contents in Apollo's perfect face.
“Over who?” she asked tensely, crossing her arms over her chest. She tried very hard not to let her ire show more than these small gestures. “Over you, Lord Apollo?”
“Well,” the Olympian attempted to be bashful for about three seconds, but even that was far too much time out of character for him. He put his hands behind his head and smirked at her. “Of course me, Rachel. Who else would there be?”
Honestly, the idea that Apollo might have some kind of feelings for her had never occurred to Rachel before. She didn't think of Apollo like that - sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous, talented and had a nice car, but he had the attention span of a goldfish when it came to mortal women, occasionally adopted the personality of a frat boy on spring break, and he was technically her boss and therefore even more off limits than normal boys - and she had assumed the lack of attraction had run both ways.
Well, you know what they say about assuming, a very Nico-like voice in her head pointed out unnecessarily.
She couldn't decide what pissed her off most about all of this, although his ridiculous assumption that she was supposed to wait around for him to notice her like some kind of lovesick groupie was topping the list at the moment. Not to mention he was willing to start an inter-Olympian conflict over something as insignificant as kissing because he was jealous; Rachel supposed he thought she'd be flattered by that behavior too.
“I don't think I'm the one who's confused, Lord Apollo,” Rachel replied, taking a step away from his desk. “Or that Nico's the one doing the manipulating out of the three of us.”
Apollo's feet fell off his desk with a loud bang, and the smirk slid off his face.
“Rachel - ” he began, his tone warning.
“How am I supposed to chose you if I'm supposed to be an eternal virgin? Unless... that rule is just there so you can eliminate any competition,” she continued, comprehension dawning on her. “Oh, well that's just a nice arrangement for you, isn't it? You get a new girl every couple of decades, and we get years of loneliness and maybe a few weeks of attention from you. That's fabulously skeevy, even for you Olympians.”
“Enough,” Apollo said loudly, his voice loaded with enough power to cause her discard champagne flute to wobble precariously on the desk. Rachel did as she was told, recognizing the power in his voice - Apollo had been annoyed earlier, but now he was angry. “As much as you'd like to think there's a conspiracy against you, the spirit of Delphi actually prefers a young, virginal host during the initial transition year. The rest of it is for your own protection, and keeping our world a secret. It hasn't gone well in the past when Oracles have had serious relationships with mortals. And don't even get me started about the troubles with demigods...”
“But this isn't the past!” Rachel protested, unable to help this interruption. “And Nico's different, I know he is. What's the harm in letting us try and see where it goes?”
But Apollo was already shaking his head as she spoke. “And if this doesn't work out, will you be back begging me to let you fool around with some other guy six months from now? Romantic relationships are a distraction from your job, nothing more. It's not gonna happen, babe, especially not when there are monsters and assassins running around the city. You're lucky I'm still going to let him hang around as a bodyguard, unless that temptation will be too much for you?”
Rachel flushed at the patronizing tone in his voice, and felt tears of humiliation and defeat stinging in the corner of her eyes. This just wasn't fair - for one, brief beautiful moment she thought she might have a real chance at being with Nico and already it was gone.
“No, Lord Apollo,” she mumbled unhappily, glancing away from him. The sun had set completely now, and the lights of the city were turning on in their full glory. “Does your threat on his life still stand?”
“Yes, and there won't be any wiggle room this time, Rachel. He so much as touches you the wrong way, and he's gone.”
“You wouldn't... reconsider, after this assassin conflict was over, would you? Because I - I won't settle for you,” she declared forcefully, turning her gaze back to him. “I don't want you, and I won't take you.”
Apollo's blue eyes narrowed and she could feel the air crackling with furious energy as his anger simmered, but Rachel held his gaze. She had to let him know how serious she was about this, and that he couldn't always get what he wanted through threats of violence. In the end, he was the one who broke their staring contest, because he simply swiveled around in his chair and turned his back to her.
“We'll see about that,” he replied, a steely note of promise in his voice.
Rachel knew a dismissal when she heard one, and she took the opportunity to flee from his office as quickly as she could.
*
“So all these monsters that have been popping up lately,” Nico said slowly, shifting through the copies of the Oracle's monster drawings he had given the library for reference, “they're all from Norse mythology?”
He paused at the drawing of the monster he'd fought in Central Park. Malcolm had written in the top corner mountain troll, last known sighting: 1904 in the Appalachians, and Nico couldn't help the snort of disbelief that escaped him. Drakons, empousa, and hell hounds he could handle, but honest-to-god, Billy-Goats-Gruff-under-the-bridge mountain trolls? That was just a little too much ridiculousness at this point.
“Mostly. But I found some Egyptian and Celtic monsters in there too, plus a couple I haven't identified yet. That mix is what threw me off because you usually don't see all these different mythologies come together unless...” Malcolm swore and rustled through a stack of papers before jotting something down in his notebook. “This really isn't good, man. I can't believe I missed all of this!”
“But, if the monsters exist,” Nico replied, still stuck on the one train of thought that he been bugging him since the word Norse had fallen from Malcom's lips, “that means the gods must too, right?”
He didn't know why this revelation had come as such a big, impossible surprise to him; it really should've been a no-brainer conclusion, actually. If the Greek gods were real and had survived this long, why in the world couldn't other mythological pantheons from around the world do so as well? The Olympians hadn't been the powerhouse in every region of the world; they'd just managed to latch on to the dominant Western Civilization better than any of the others.
Malcolm made that impatient, I can't believe you're asking me this noise that belong solely to busy children of Athena.
“Of course they do. Them, the Egyptians, the Mayans... you name the mythology, their gods probably existed at some point in time. Most of the smaller deity groups died out once civilization started widely accepting monotheism, but the big ones are still around, even if they are a lot quieter than in the past,” he explained, jabbing his thumb at the colorful tapestry behind him. “That tapestry belonged in the war room of Olympus at one point in time - it tracked the movements of the other pantheons and marked out their territories. It still does, actually.”
“Huh,” Nico said, getting to his feet and walking over to the tapestry.
The United States, Canada, some of Australia, Japan, and the majority of Europe were mostly colored in blue - that had to be the color of the Olympians, Nico decided. Some areas of Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, as well as small pockets in the states like Minnesota were green, most likely symbolizing the Germanic/Norse religion. Upper Africa and part of the Middle East were a brilliant yellow, although the Mediterranean was a mix of yellows, blues, and a few other colors Nico couldn't quite pick out.
In other areas of the world, Olympus had less of a presence - Central America and Peru were dominated by blazing red, for instance, and Russia was a steely gray expanse of land.
Nico just sat back and stared at the tapestry for a long moment, taking it all in. Here was all the evidence anyone needed that something out there existed and it was just mind-boggling to think that all of these different mythologies with their own stubborn, frightening gods had co-existed on the same planet for the last couple millenia or so. Although he highly doubted that it had been an entirely peaceful co-existence.
“When's the last time there was some kind of inter-mythology throw-down?” Nico asked, curious for the answer. The Olympians had gotten to the top in their world by besting the Titans in battle; it wouldn't be entirely far-fetched to assume they had beaten back all outside threats and conquered other areas of the world in the same manner. And that sort of power had to breed resentment, which left to fester for hundreds of years could be the source of all sorts of dangerous schemes and power plays...
“World War I,” Malcolm replied immediately. “In fact, most mortal wars have some kind of mythological conflict going on in the background - the mood of the gods can have a heavy effect on mortals. There were some skirmishes in the Pacific in WWII, but that was mostly an inter-Olympian conflict so all the other deities stayed out of it. Most of them were still recovering from their losses from the first war anyway. ”
Nico peered closely at the spot on the tapestry that was supposed to represent Manhattan Island; he started, surprised, as the tapestry shivered and then enlarged the area for him so he could see it better. Well, wasn't that handy?
“Did you know Brooklyn is Egyptian territory?” he asked after a brief examination, and Malcolm grunted negatively. “Does anyone know about them? How can they be so close to Olympian power, and no one cares? That's just stupid.”
He didn't like the idea that they had immortal enemies sitting right across the river from them, easily within striking distance. The thought of it made his stomach twist anxiously.
“We don't have to worry about the Egyptians. They haven't had any serious power since the days of Cleopatra, and all they've got left are a handful of magicians anyway. They wouldn't dare to take on Olympus at their current power level, especially since we've kind of developed an unspoken truce with them. The Norse, on the other hand, are always eager to make asses of themselves whenever an opportunity has presented itself historically,” the other boy said, rustling some papers. “Here, I've got something for you to see.”
Nico turned away from the tapestry, and moved back toward Malcolm's table. The son of Athena was holding out a long piece of paper for him to read - as he took it from him, Nico could see that it was a list of names, dates, and places.
“These are nearly all the Oracles killed while in service to Lord Apollo - I think there's about 159 of them, which is actually astonishingly low when compared to demigod death rates. Anyway, the majority of them were killed by mortals or in freak accidents, but then there's these,” Malcolm pointed to one of the names of the handful of names he had starred, “These Oracles were murdered either right before or sometime after a mythological conflict or big world event.
“Cassandra? Killed after the Trojan War. This girl Octavia, just before Julius Caesar was murdered. Joan of Arc during the Hundred Year's War, and so on. Most of their deaths are described in the records as 'causality of godly warfare,' which usually indicates someone on the outside did the deed. Most often than not, it's the Norse. It's like their signature move when they want to start something.”
“So this has all happened before?” Nico replied, the edges of the paper crinkling as his grip on it tightened with anger. “Dammit, my father and Apollo said they had no clue who was trying to kill Rachel.”
“Well, to be fair, the last time a Norse agent killed an Oracle was before the American Revolution, and Olympians don't exactly have the best memory when it comes to this sort of stuff. Besides, the Oracle gets targeted enough by figures from within our own mythology that it's just easier to assume someone in the family is up to no good. I shouldn't have to tell you who put the curse on Rachel's predecessor, after all.”
Nico grumbled a terse, “Yeah, yeah,” under his breath, hated to be reminded if this dark chapter of his family's past.
So if it were the Norse gods who were after Rachel this time, what would their motivation be now? By what Malcolm had said, their last conflict had been almost a century ago and while he knew that was barely a blip in the passage of time for immortals, it seemed like they would've tried something else before now if they were after revenge for that. Unless they were attempting to take back power from Olympus, but that would just be stupid, considering Olympus -
Oh.
Oh fuck, maybe it wasn't so stupid after all. Maybe it was actually kind of strategically brilliant.
Olympus was not the bright and shining star it had been the last hundred years. They were still recovering from the Second War with the Titans, and was the weakest it had been in recent memory. The Norse must have been waiting for the Titans to take the Olympians down, and since they had failed, someone else was going to take up the mantel.
Killing Rachel would just be the start of it, the ancient first move in mythological war games. The gods might be able to weather the storm, but seven years was too soon for Camp Half-Blood and the demigods to go back to war. Only a handful of them had escaped the Titan War unscathed, and camp had been filled with too many young faces the last time he had visited - they weren't ready for this conflict and the other pantheons were ready to taken advantage of it.
“Shit,” Nico said, running a hand over his face to disguise the sudden trembling in his limbs. “This is going to be bad, isn't it?”
“Really bad,” Malcolm confirmed miserably.
*
Most of the crowd outside of the music hall had gone inside or dispersed by the time Rachel exited the front doors a few minutes later. There were a few stragglers about - it wouldn't be New York without someone on the streets at all times - but none of them were paying attention to the distressed redhead as she tried to hail a cab.
She was overwhelmed by what had happened in Apollo's office, and her emotions were all over the place, so it was easy to mistake her usual prickling sense of danger for something else. It was equally as easy to get caught up in her thoughts so the black Town Car that had been lurking around the corner, waiting for her to reappear, was able to escape her notice and pull up silently behind her.
When she noticed the car at last, her attention was caught by the hulking shadow that had appeared behind her in the smooth glass of the car's passenger window. All thoughts of Apollo went out of her head as survival mode kicked in, and she realized just how much trouble she was in.
“Hey!” Rachel shouted warningly, turning on her heel, but by then, it was already too late.
The shadowy figure grabbed on to her arms with an iron grip as the town car's back seat door popped open; Rachel shouted and struggled, but the her assailant was much stronger than her and shoved her back into the car without hesitation.
Pain erupted in her body as she hit her head hard on the car's door frame, and she landed limply on her back on the plush seats, dazed. Distantly, she heard the car door shut and felt it begin to move under her. Beside her, someone shifted and another shadowed figure glanced down at her.
“Damn, we weren't supposed to make her bleed yet,” he murmured, and the last thing Rachel saw before she blacked out were the ice blue eyes of her assassin.
Next
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings: Rachel/Nico, with appearances from the rest of the cast and the gods
Summary: After an attempt on her life, Apollo decides Rachel needs a bodyguard and who better to take the job than a certain son of Hades? Too bad they're not going to make things easy for each other, especially when it comes to their feelings.
Notes: Finally found the time to get this put up in-between playing the summer camp counselor. Enjoy!
Chapter 12: Danger, Danger
There was no guarantee that Apollo would actually be at his temple tonight, Rachel realized a bit belatedly as the cab entered Midtown Manhattan.
She usually wasn't the one that did the visiting out of the two of them - Apollo usually dropped by at Camp Half-Blood or elsewhere if he needed to talk to her. She'd had an appointment the last time she'd visited, which had been perfunctory sort of thing, but Apollo had stressed that the temple was open to her any time she needed to stop by.
However, it looked like her chances of Apollo being around were pretty high, if the way traffic had crawled to a standstill on the avenue and the crowds of people on the sidewalk surrounding Radio City Music Hall were any indication. The god usually liked to make an appearance whenever there was an award show or concert being held inside.
Rachel hoped it was just a concert and not something big she'd have to crash like a movie premiere; she'd like to get in and out without causing as much of a scene as possible. Her father still wasn't happy with her over those gossip picture photos from the other day, and the last thing she needed right now was to show up on Access Hollywood as their latest spoiled, gatecrasher heiress.
Thankfully, it was just a concert, although that didn't make getting into the building without a ticket any easier. She'd managed to sweet talk her way into the lobby with one of the boys at the box office, but one of the gray haired upper managers caught her trying to sneak upstairs in a clearly forbidden area, and hadn't seemed particularly impressed with her claims of needing to see Apollo at first.
“I have no idea what you're talking about, miss,” he said, trying to block her passage up the stairs. “If you don't have a ticket, I'm afraid I'm going to have to see you to the door.”
“I'm not here to see the show, and don't give me any of that 'I don't know' bullcrap,” Rachel replied, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet firmly on the floor. “I need to see Apollo. Right now.”
The manager kept up his pretense of confusion long enough for Rachel to wonder if maybe he really didn't know who she was talking about, but then he rolled his eyes and huffed rather unprofessionally.
“Look, honey, we're very busy right now,” he said in a condescending tone, one Rachel was sure he practiced on his grandchildren whenever they visited. “Why don't you come back and visit your daddy sometime later, okay?”
Rachel made a face. “Gross, Apollo is so not my dad.”
If anything, the manager's next roll of the eyes was even more dramatic than the first and the expression on his face clearly read, I don't get paid nearly enough to deal with this sort of thing. Rachel wondered how many people looking for the immortal he had turned down over the years.
“And I am not here for a godly hook-up, if that's what you were thinking,” she added before he could say another word. The manager looked skeptical. “I'd be wearing better shoes if I were, okay? I'm the Oracle of Delphi. Hasn't Apollo filled you in on that position yet?”
“I can't say he has,” the manager sniffed, still looking skeptical. “I was under the impression that the Oracle was a mummy in attic.”
The Olympian gossip train could not possibly be this slow. Rachel wondered if it would be easier just to throw her dad's name around when she came up against mortals like this - they all seemed to respond better to that than her position as the Oracle.
“That was seven years ago. I'm the brand spanking new Oracle, and I need to see my boss,” she responding, using her best authoritative voice. “Now.”
The manager's face began to purple at her tone, but before he could call security or say another word, a hand clamped down on his shoulder and Apollo's boyish face appeared beside him.
“Easy, Clarence, I've got this one,” Apollo said, grinning charmingly at the older man. Rachel was surprised to see him blush and splutter a little - clearly the effect of Apollo's good looks had no limit to age or gender. “Rachel, babe, good to see you. You here for the show?”
Apollo turned his blue gaze on her. For a moment, there was a flash of darkness on his face but it was gone so quickly, Rachel wondered if it was just the light playing tricks on her.
“No, just here to talk to you,” she said, flashing him her best smile. “I hope that's okay?”
The immortal let go of Clarence, and stepped down beside Rachel, wrapping a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close to him. Rachel stared at him in surprise, hardly expecting this sort of reaction from him. Apollo didn't usually initiate physical contact between them - aside from a few playful bats on the shoulder or that kiss on the cheek when she had graduated high school, touching had never been part of their interactions. The arm around her shoulder didn't feel nice or welcome at all; in fact, it was downright uncomfortable and stifling. Possessive, even.
Apollo wasn't doing a very good job of proving to Clarence that she wasn't his fling for the night with this kind of behavior either, Rachel noted, and she felt apprehension settle in low in her stomach. It was now occurring to her what might have been on Hades's note, and that she might have unknowingly stepped into the lion's den.
But Apollo wouldn't do anything to hurt her.
“It's always okay, Rachel m'dear,” Apollo replied smoothly, leading her up the stairs and past Clarence. “Now, should we talk in my office or in my private box? I've been assured this show is going to be absolutely brilliant and I'd hate for you to miss it...”
Would he?
*
The Librarian was nowhere in sight when Nico entered Athena's Library that evening, which was probably a plus for him because he still hadn't found his library card and Malcom Vanterpool didn't even bother to check him in his excitement to get Nico into the library to show him what he had found.
“Thank the gods you filed this request because I would have been stuck alphabetizing Demeter's 700 apple pie recipes all weekend otherwise,” Malcolm said as he led him through the the winding stacks further in the library. “I was under the impression I'd be doing this kind of research the entire time, but The Librarian has been giving me grunt work while she gave everyone else the cool stuff. I only got this 'cause everyone else was busy. Story of my life, seriously.”
Malcolm had been the second-in-command of the Athena cabin for as long Nico had been around at Camp Half-Blood, and he had been passed over head of cabin duties for someone a little younger than him after Annabeth had left for college. He had been bitterly disappointed by this, Nico remembered, and he thought it was too bad that he was still getting shafted even outside of camp. Some things never changed, it appeared.
“So you said you found something interesting?” Nico asked, recalling what the other boy had said in his IM. He had been beyond relieved to get that call and get out of the apartment - just being around Rachel hurt, and this was the perfect thing to distract himself from his unhappiness. “I didn't think you'd get results this fast, actually.”
Malcolm's cheeks flushed as they turned into a cross section of their aisle, going deeper into one of the older areas of the library. Nico had never gone past the more modern areas in his previous visits, but he'd heard stories about the inner sanctum of Athena's Library, with its books and documents from across time and around the world - mostly from Annabeth, who would drone for hours about the ten million different types of architecture that were represented in the library or whatever.
The section they were wandering in now looked like the shelves had been plucked straight from some ancient stone monastery in Europe - there were even flickering torches in their brackets on the walls and a damp chill in the air.
“I, uh, actually didn't finish the research all the way, you see,” Malcolm admitted, looking thoroughly embarrassed with himself. “I found enough to give you some answers though, and I figured having something to work with would be better than nothing, especially since you marked it as a Class Five priority.”
Nico nodded. “Yeah, thanks Malcolm. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he said, and then his gray eyes flickered over to him. “Mind if I ask why you're researching death threats on Oracles though? Something hasn't happened to Rachel, has it?”
“Not yet,” Nico said stiffly, his hands tightening to fists at his sides. “Someone's been trying to kill her, but we don't know who. She painted those pictures of the monsters I gave you guys, and I think they're connected somehow.”
Beside him, Malcolm faltered in his step briefly, and Nico glanced at him just in time to see his face drain with color.
“Malcolm?”
“Oh, Hera's Sweet Panties, I can't believe I didn't make the connection!” he exclaimed, smacking himself in the forehead. “No wonder I get stuck doing the grunt work, I'm such an idiot! I should've called you in days ago...”
Malcolm hurried down the aisles, nearly running, and Nico followed after him, dread settling in the pit of his stomach.
“Malcolm,” he repeated as they turned and stopped in an open space stacked with old study desks. “Do you know who the assassins are?”
There were books and scrolls and tablets from all eras of time scattered over the tables - clearly marking this as been Malcolm's work station. But the thing that caught Nico's eye was the giant tapestry hanging on the far wall behind them.
Even though it had to have been created hundreds of years ago, mostly likely by the goddess Athena herself, the tapestry featured a map of the modern world, colored with the most interesting shades of blue, greens, and yellows. The colors had to represent something - the pattern was just too random for someone at Athena's level of craft - and... were those colors moving?
The sound of Malcolm slamming a book onto the table drew his attention away from the tapestry, and he approached the other boy, who was swearing under his breath.
“Unfortunately, I'm about 90 percent sure I know who's after Rachel now,” he said, flipping through his book before finding the page he wanted and turning the book so Nico could see the illustration.
Featured on the page was a classical portrait of a golden skinned, blonde haired young man wearing a red robe and riding in a chariot. He had been painted in a fighting pose, as if he were about to strike someone down - in his aloft hand, he held a hammer.
“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Nico murmured, sinking into the chair across from Malcolm as recognition set in and disbelief began to flow through his system.
“Nico,” Malcolm continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted, “what do you know about the Norse gods?”
*
“You look like you need to relax. Champagne?”
Rachel tore her gaze away from the view of Rockefeller Center far below her, and glanced at the flute of bubbling liquid Apollo was holding out for her. She hadn't said much to him on the elevator ride up to his office but he seemed to have been content with that, humming an uplifting song to fill her silence.
The humming, at least, was normal. The arm he had kept draped over her shoulders the entire way, the weird, dim setting he had kept the office lights on, and now this offering of champagne weren't. After seven years, she was used to Apollo's outrageous flirtation with her - it was part of his personality and anyway, he had never been serious with his pursuit. But these gestures were subdued, unfamiliar, and Rachel was getting the definite impression that Apollo was being serious this time.
“Thank you,” she said, careful to avoid touching his hands as she took the glass from him. She took a sip, and glanced back out the window, wondering if maybe she was just misreading all the signs and the dread churning in her stomach was an overreaction. “I have been kind of stressed lately.”
“Totally understandable, with all the monster attacks in the in recent weeks. I'm sure you've only noticed a few of them personally,” Apollo replied, catching her look of surprise in her reflection in the window. “But they've been increasing in numbers lately; we haven't seen this many on the island since the Battle of New York. Their presence is enough to drive up anyone stress levels, regardless if you're being hunted by them or not... Speaking of monsters, where's your bodyguard? Shouldn't he be skulking around here somewhere?”
“I came alone,” Rachel replied slowly. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Nico.”
She took a long drink of champagne, buying herself an extra few seconds to gather her courage.
There was no mistaking the disdain in Apollo's voice nor the slight frown that crinkled his otherwise perfect brow when Nico was mentioned. That dead, dreadful weight in her stomach became even heavier. Apollo had to know what had happened between her and Nico - it would be naive to assume otherwise. She wondered if he was just waiting for her to confirm it before he got angry and blasted her to bits.
“Oh?” Apollo asked, sounding hopeful. “Are you unhappy with him? Do you want him replaced? Because I can have him out of your life with a snap of my fingers if you say so, Rachel.”
“No, that's not - ”
“I always knew those kids of Hades were going to cause trouble. They can barely keep each other and their plants alive, let alone someone else.”
Rachel turned away from the window so she could meet his gaze.“Nico's done a perfectly acceptable job of keeping me safe, Lord Apollo. I'm still in one piece, aren't I?” The immortal sighed, as if it pained him to have to consider this, and then he nodded reluctantly. “I want to keep Nico around, except I thought you should that things have changed... between Nico and me.”
Apollo's lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at her, and the intensity of his gaze made her hands tremble slightly.
“So,” he said after a long moment. “The boy's not quite as unattractive as some of his previous siblings were, I take it?”
A furious blush spread across Rachel's cheeks. “I'm sorry, it just sort of happened. We didn't go beyond kissing - ”
“Oh, I know all about what Mr. di Angelo did with you,” Apollo interrupted peevishly, sweeping toward his desk. He picked up a copy of the issue of the Post with her picture in it and waving it at her. “Cavorting around town like a love sick fool, flaunting the rules right under my nose, making me the laughingstock of Olympus... I should have vaporized the boy a long time ago, but his father had to get all noble and caring about him.”
At the mention of the lord of death's name, Rachel became aware of Hades's letter in her jacket pocket, and pulled it out. Suddenly everything was starting to make a lot more sense.
“Is that what this is about? You threatened Hades to get Nico to stay away from me?”
She held out the letter for him, and Apollo snatched it out of her hands. He glanced at it, made a dismissive snort in regards to the content, and then promptly crushed it in his fist before it erupted in a column of flame.
“Please don't get the impression that the house of Hades is innocent in all of this; he said he'd kill you if I so much as touched a hair on his son's head, and I only did what I had to to reclaim my tarnished honor,” Apollo explained, opening is hand and dumping the ashes from the note carelessly on the carpet. “I told Hades I wouldn't hurt the boy so long as he did his job properly - a job that doesn't including wooing and distracting you, dear Rachel. And as long as he's behaving himself, I won't.”
Well, all of that certainly explained Nico's behavior change. Death threats coming from all directions certainly had a way of killing a romance, and it was such a Nico characteristic to think he had to punish himself for putting her in danger. Oh, they were so going to have a long talking to about this when she got back home...
“But why?” Rachel demanded, following Apollo as he moved toward his desk again. “Why do a couple of kisses matter so much? It's not like Nico bent me over the kitchen counter and had his way with me or anything; he's been very conscious of the rules. In fact, if you want to blame anyone, blame me. I'm the one who started everything in the first place. Nico wouldn't have come near me otherwise.”
Apollo scoffed at this suggestion, plopping down into his leather chair and propping his feet up on the desk. He looked like he belonged in a spread in GQ magazine about young CEOs in that pose, and he knew it too.
“Don't be silly, Rachel. Like I'd blame you for any of this,” he replied. “The di Angelo boy was obviously just bored and looking for a challenge, and you were an unfortunate causality of his manipulations. You're undoubtedly very confused. I mean, why else would you pick him over...”
Apollo stopped short, and Rachel's gaze narrowed as she understood the implication. Very carefully, she set her champagne glass on the edge of his desk, although she would've preferred to toss it's contents in Apollo's perfect face.
“Over who?” she asked tensely, crossing her arms over her chest. She tried very hard not to let her ire show more than these small gestures. “Over you, Lord Apollo?”
“Well,” the Olympian attempted to be bashful for about three seconds, but even that was far too much time out of character for him. He put his hands behind his head and smirked at her. “Of course me, Rachel. Who else would there be?”
Honestly, the idea that Apollo might have some kind of feelings for her had never occurred to Rachel before. She didn't think of Apollo like that - sure, he was drop-dead gorgeous, talented and had a nice car, but he had the attention span of a goldfish when it came to mortal women, occasionally adopted the personality of a frat boy on spring break, and he was technically her boss and therefore even more off limits than normal boys - and she had assumed the lack of attraction had run both ways.
Well, you know what they say about assuming, a very Nico-like voice in her head pointed out unnecessarily.
She couldn't decide what pissed her off most about all of this, although his ridiculous assumption that she was supposed to wait around for him to notice her like some kind of lovesick groupie was topping the list at the moment. Not to mention he was willing to start an inter-Olympian conflict over something as insignificant as kissing because he was jealous; Rachel supposed he thought she'd be flattered by that behavior too.
“I don't think I'm the one who's confused, Lord Apollo,” Rachel replied, taking a step away from his desk. “Or that Nico's the one doing the manipulating out of the three of us.”
Apollo's feet fell off his desk with a loud bang, and the smirk slid off his face.
“Rachel - ” he began, his tone warning.
“How am I supposed to chose you if I'm supposed to be an eternal virgin? Unless... that rule is just there so you can eliminate any competition,” she continued, comprehension dawning on her. “Oh, well that's just a nice arrangement for you, isn't it? You get a new girl every couple of decades, and we get years of loneliness and maybe a few weeks of attention from you. That's fabulously skeevy, even for you Olympians.”
“Enough,” Apollo said loudly, his voice loaded with enough power to cause her discard champagne flute to wobble precariously on the desk. Rachel did as she was told, recognizing the power in his voice - Apollo had been annoyed earlier, but now he was angry. “As much as you'd like to think there's a conspiracy against you, the spirit of Delphi actually prefers a young, virginal host during the initial transition year. The rest of it is for your own protection, and keeping our world a secret. It hasn't gone well in the past when Oracles have had serious relationships with mortals. And don't even get me started about the troubles with demigods...”
“But this isn't the past!” Rachel protested, unable to help this interruption. “And Nico's different, I know he is. What's the harm in letting us try and see where it goes?”
But Apollo was already shaking his head as she spoke. “And if this doesn't work out, will you be back begging me to let you fool around with some other guy six months from now? Romantic relationships are a distraction from your job, nothing more. It's not gonna happen, babe, especially not when there are monsters and assassins running around the city. You're lucky I'm still going to let him hang around as a bodyguard, unless that temptation will be too much for you?”
Rachel flushed at the patronizing tone in his voice, and felt tears of humiliation and defeat stinging in the corner of her eyes. This just wasn't fair - for one, brief beautiful moment she thought she might have a real chance at being with Nico and already it was gone.
“No, Lord Apollo,” she mumbled unhappily, glancing away from him. The sun had set completely now, and the lights of the city were turning on in their full glory. “Does your threat on his life still stand?”
“Yes, and there won't be any wiggle room this time, Rachel. He so much as touches you the wrong way, and he's gone.”
“You wouldn't... reconsider, after this assassin conflict was over, would you? Because I - I won't settle for you,” she declared forcefully, turning her gaze back to him. “I don't want you, and I won't take you.”
Apollo's blue eyes narrowed and she could feel the air crackling with furious energy as his anger simmered, but Rachel held his gaze. She had to let him know how serious she was about this, and that he couldn't always get what he wanted through threats of violence. In the end, he was the one who broke their staring contest, because he simply swiveled around in his chair and turned his back to her.
“We'll see about that,” he replied, a steely note of promise in his voice.
Rachel knew a dismissal when she heard one, and she took the opportunity to flee from his office as quickly as she could.
*
“So all these monsters that have been popping up lately,” Nico said slowly, shifting through the copies of the Oracle's monster drawings he had given the library for reference, “they're all from Norse mythology?”
He paused at the drawing of the monster he'd fought in Central Park. Malcolm had written in the top corner mountain troll, last known sighting: 1904 in the Appalachians, and Nico couldn't help the snort of disbelief that escaped him. Drakons, empousa, and hell hounds he could handle, but honest-to-god, Billy-Goats-Gruff-under-the-bridge mountain trolls? That was just a little too much ridiculousness at this point.
“Mostly. But I found some Egyptian and Celtic monsters in there too, plus a couple I haven't identified yet. That mix is what threw me off because you usually don't see all these different mythologies come together unless...” Malcolm swore and rustled through a stack of papers before jotting something down in his notebook. “This really isn't good, man. I can't believe I missed all of this!”
“But, if the monsters exist,” Nico replied, still stuck on the one train of thought that he been bugging him since the word Norse had fallen from Malcom's lips, “that means the gods must too, right?”
He didn't know why this revelation had come as such a big, impossible surprise to him; it really should've been a no-brainer conclusion, actually. If the Greek gods were real and had survived this long, why in the world couldn't other mythological pantheons from around the world do so as well? The Olympians hadn't been the powerhouse in every region of the world; they'd just managed to latch on to the dominant Western Civilization better than any of the others.
Malcolm made that impatient, I can't believe you're asking me this noise that belong solely to busy children of Athena.
“Of course they do. Them, the Egyptians, the Mayans... you name the mythology, their gods probably existed at some point in time. Most of the smaller deity groups died out once civilization started widely accepting monotheism, but the big ones are still around, even if they are a lot quieter than in the past,” he explained, jabbing his thumb at the colorful tapestry behind him. “That tapestry belonged in the war room of Olympus at one point in time - it tracked the movements of the other pantheons and marked out their territories. It still does, actually.”
“Huh,” Nico said, getting to his feet and walking over to the tapestry.
The United States, Canada, some of Australia, Japan, and the majority of Europe were mostly colored in blue - that had to be the color of the Olympians, Nico decided. Some areas of Scandinavia and Eastern Europe, as well as small pockets in the states like Minnesota were green, most likely symbolizing the Germanic/Norse religion. Upper Africa and part of the Middle East were a brilliant yellow, although the Mediterranean was a mix of yellows, blues, and a few other colors Nico couldn't quite pick out.
In other areas of the world, Olympus had less of a presence - Central America and Peru were dominated by blazing red, for instance, and Russia was a steely gray expanse of land.
Nico just sat back and stared at the tapestry for a long moment, taking it all in. Here was all the evidence anyone needed that something out there existed and it was just mind-boggling to think that all of these different mythologies with their own stubborn, frightening gods had co-existed on the same planet for the last couple millenia or so. Although he highly doubted that it had been an entirely peaceful co-existence.
“When's the last time there was some kind of inter-mythology throw-down?” Nico asked, curious for the answer. The Olympians had gotten to the top in their world by besting the Titans in battle; it wouldn't be entirely far-fetched to assume they had beaten back all outside threats and conquered other areas of the world in the same manner. And that sort of power had to breed resentment, which left to fester for hundreds of years could be the source of all sorts of dangerous schemes and power plays...
“World War I,” Malcolm replied immediately. “In fact, most mortal wars have some kind of mythological conflict going on in the background - the mood of the gods can have a heavy effect on mortals. There were some skirmishes in the Pacific in WWII, but that was mostly an inter-Olympian conflict so all the other deities stayed out of it. Most of them were still recovering from their losses from the first war anyway. ”
Nico peered closely at the spot on the tapestry that was supposed to represent Manhattan Island; he started, surprised, as the tapestry shivered and then enlarged the area for him so he could see it better. Well, wasn't that handy?
“Did you know Brooklyn is Egyptian territory?” he asked after a brief examination, and Malcolm grunted negatively. “Does anyone know about them? How can they be so close to Olympian power, and no one cares? That's just stupid.”
He didn't like the idea that they had immortal enemies sitting right across the river from them, easily within striking distance. The thought of it made his stomach twist anxiously.
“We don't have to worry about the Egyptians. They haven't had any serious power since the days of Cleopatra, and all they've got left are a handful of magicians anyway. They wouldn't dare to take on Olympus at their current power level, especially since we've kind of developed an unspoken truce with them. The Norse, on the other hand, are always eager to make asses of themselves whenever an opportunity has presented itself historically,” the other boy said, rustling some papers. “Here, I've got something for you to see.”
Nico turned away from the tapestry, and moved back toward Malcolm's table. The son of Athena was holding out a long piece of paper for him to read - as he took it from him, Nico could see that it was a list of names, dates, and places.
“These are nearly all the Oracles killed while in service to Lord Apollo - I think there's about 159 of them, which is actually astonishingly low when compared to demigod death rates. Anyway, the majority of them were killed by mortals or in freak accidents, but then there's these,” Malcolm pointed to one of the names of the handful of names he had starred, “These Oracles were murdered either right before or sometime after a mythological conflict or big world event.
“Cassandra? Killed after the Trojan War. This girl Octavia, just before Julius Caesar was murdered. Joan of Arc during the Hundred Year's War, and so on. Most of their deaths are described in the records as 'causality of godly warfare,' which usually indicates someone on the outside did the deed. Most often than not, it's the Norse. It's like their signature move when they want to start something.”
“So this has all happened before?” Nico replied, the edges of the paper crinkling as his grip on it tightened with anger. “Dammit, my father and Apollo said they had no clue who was trying to kill Rachel.”
“Well, to be fair, the last time a Norse agent killed an Oracle was before the American Revolution, and Olympians don't exactly have the best memory when it comes to this sort of stuff. Besides, the Oracle gets targeted enough by figures from within our own mythology that it's just easier to assume someone in the family is up to no good. I shouldn't have to tell you who put the curse on Rachel's predecessor, after all.”
Nico grumbled a terse, “Yeah, yeah,” under his breath, hated to be reminded if this dark chapter of his family's past.
So if it were the Norse gods who were after Rachel this time, what would their motivation be now? By what Malcolm had said, their last conflict had been almost a century ago and while he knew that was barely a blip in the passage of time for immortals, it seemed like they would've tried something else before now if they were after revenge for that. Unless they were attempting to take back power from Olympus, but that would just be stupid, considering Olympus -
Oh.
Oh fuck, maybe it wasn't so stupid after all. Maybe it was actually kind of strategically brilliant.
Olympus was not the bright and shining star it had been the last hundred years. They were still recovering from the Second War with the Titans, and was the weakest it had been in recent memory. The Norse must have been waiting for the Titans to take the Olympians down, and since they had failed, someone else was going to take up the mantel.
Killing Rachel would just be the start of it, the ancient first move in mythological war games. The gods might be able to weather the storm, but seven years was too soon for Camp Half-Blood and the demigods to go back to war. Only a handful of them had escaped the Titan War unscathed, and camp had been filled with too many young faces the last time he had visited - they weren't ready for this conflict and the other pantheons were ready to taken advantage of it.
“Shit,” Nico said, running a hand over his face to disguise the sudden trembling in his limbs. “This is going to be bad, isn't it?”
“Really bad,” Malcolm confirmed miserably.
*
Most of the crowd outside of the music hall had gone inside or dispersed by the time Rachel exited the front doors a few minutes later. There were a few stragglers about - it wouldn't be New York without someone on the streets at all times - but none of them were paying attention to the distressed redhead as she tried to hail a cab.
She was overwhelmed by what had happened in Apollo's office, and her emotions were all over the place, so it was easy to mistake her usual prickling sense of danger for something else. It was equally as easy to get caught up in her thoughts so the black Town Car that had been lurking around the corner, waiting for her to reappear, was able to escape her notice and pull up silently behind her.
When she noticed the car at last, her attention was caught by the hulking shadow that had appeared behind her in the smooth glass of the car's passenger window. All thoughts of Apollo went out of her head as survival mode kicked in, and she realized just how much trouble she was in.
“Hey!” Rachel shouted warningly, turning on her heel, but by then, it was already too late.
The shadowy figure grabbed on to her arms with an iron grip as the town car's back seat door popped open; Rachel shouted and struggled, but the her assailant was much stronger than her and shoved her back into the car without hesitation.
Pain erupted in her body as she hit her head hard on the car's door frame, and she landed limply on her back on the plush seats, dazed. Distantly, she heard the car door shut and felt it begin to move under her. Beside her, someone shifted and another shadowed figure glanced down at her.
“Damn, we weren't supposed to make her bleed yet,” he murmured, and the last thing Rachel saw before she blacked out were the ice blue eyes of her assassin.
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