Cecilia Holmes, Daughter of Minerva (Sherlock/Percy Jackson crossover)

Chapter 53

    I looked for Claude in the chaos.
    I didn’t know why he had run away. It did seem like a dumb, cowardly thing to do. But for some reason I felt like I should know. Like maybe I did something wrong.
    I finally found him. He sat at a long table with a dozen or so other kids who all wore shades of black and red, most of it being leather. He was sitting at the edge of the table, eating quietly.
    I took my plate and walked over to the table. There was a girl sitting across from him, her hair pulled back in several different braids and her ear covered in pierces. She talked with a girl who sat next to her, but there was room for me if they would scoot over. I set my plate down on the edge of the table and all of the kids looked at me simultaneously.
    “Can I sit here?” I asked, looking at the girl across from Claude.
    She snorted.
    “Has no one told you the rules, newb?” she snapped. “You have to go sit with the Hermes kids until your claimed, and then you have to sit at your cabin’s table. That’s how it works.”
    I was about to snap back, when Claude said, “She’s right, Sherlock. You have to go.”
    I looked at him, but he was staring at his plate.
    Several angry rebuttles sprung to mind, but I couldn’t seem to voice any of them.
    So I picked up my plate and walked away, without a word.
    “There she is! Sherlock! Over here!” I looked to see Larry and the other Hermes kids waving at me. I had to fight the temptation to wrinkle my nose in disgust as I walked toward them. I looked around, wondering how I hadn’t seen it sooner. The tables were sorted by godly parent. I saw Armin sitting with the other Ares kids, who were laughing and shouting and stuffing their faces with food. Armin sat at the middle of the table, blood still staining his arm and a wide smile on his face.
    I sat down at the edge of the Hermes table, next to Larry, continuing to look around as I took a bite of my cole slaw. The children of Athena were easy to see, considering they all had blonde hair. I brushed some free strands of my curly black hair from my face, my gaze going to the Aphrodite table across from us. The prim supermodels barely touched their food, but mostly talked and whispered amongst themselves. Except for one. She sat on the end and appeared to be eating like a normal person.
    Patricia.
    She ate with one hand, her other sticking out slightly. I looked between the two demigods that sat in front of me at the Hermes table. The table next to Aphrodite’s was Hecate’s. Patricia’s pinky was linked with Snorri’s between the aisles.
    I looked at Snorri just as he took a glance at Patricia. He looked away, glaring at the two other kids at his small table, just as Patricia glanced at him.
    This isn’t fair. They should be able to sit with each other if they want.
    I looked at Claude.
    He was already glowering at me.
    Before I could properly process it, I was glaring back. He looked away.
    I blinked twice.
    What was that?
    I focused on my food, eating solemnly and refusing to join in my table’s “hilarious” antics. I finished quickly and stood.
    “Hey, you forgot to save something for your offering!” Larry commented before I walked away.
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Oh, nobody told you? After every meal we’re supposed to dump some part of our food into the fire as a burnt offering to our godly parent,” he shrugged. “They like the smell, apparently. Here, I didn’t want this anyway.” He placed a half eaten roll on my plate and then walked away, a pile of cole slaw still on his.
    “Thanks…?” I said, following him toward the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion. Other demigods were already there, dumping the leftovers off their plate. Some dumped them and then left. Some stood, their eyes closed and mouths moving in quiet prayers before dumping theirs in.
    I slowly approached the fire, frowning.
    I have nothing to ask of you or praise you for, I prayed silently to Minerva, if you hadn’t been such a jerk to me all my life, maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess. I hope you’re happy that you’re daughter— because I AM your offspring, whether you like it or not— is going to the depths of Tartarus for the rest of eternity for murdering an innocent demigod. I know it has to do with balance and justice, not just revenge— but that doesn’t make what I’m about to do any less than what it is: murder. I am stealing the most precious thing in all the universe… existence. Life. I hope you’re happy. I hope you’re proud, mom.
    I dumped the roll into the fire and turned away.
    I walked toward the Cabins, not sure what else to do. But then I spotted Claude, walking behind a few of his siblings.
    I ran over to him and grabbed his arm.
    “Why are you mad at me?” I hissed.
    He glared at me and pulled free of my grip.
    “I mean, of course you should be mad at me, you have ever reason to,” I went on, crossing my arms. “But did I do something? Or what’s up with this out of the blue anger?”
    “You think I am so weak that I need to be defended?” he snapped.
    “You’re mad at me because I fought Armin?” I clarified.
    “No, I’m mad that you thought that I couldn’t do it myself, that you thought you had to do it for me. I could’ve gotten up there just like you did, but I didn’t want to. I wasn’t going to answer his empty threats and insults. So why did you drag me into that? Did you think I wanted an apology from him?” he growled. His siblings were staring at us, but I didn’t care that they were eavesdropping. I stared straight at Claude.
    “I was thinking more about myself!” I replied, harshly, “I was angry. I wanted to hit something. But I didn’t want to get up there and fight without... without... a purpose! A cause! Do you think it was such a wise idea that I brought so much attention to myself? It wasn’t. But it’s better that I got my anger out that way, believe me. So yeah. I brought you into it so that it would look like I was righteously angry about the way my friend was being treated. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that doing that would take away your manly card or whatever.”
    “Shut up,” he snapped. “That’s not it.”
    “Then what is it?!”
    “Because, yes, you didn’t recognize that I could’ve defended myself, but also because I didn’t want him to apologize. Geez, Ceci— Sherlock, don’t you realize who I am? Don’t you realize what I want?” his dark blue eyes blazed in the light of the setting sun. I had never seen him so angry.
    “I want my revenge,” he whispered. He said it with so much passion and bloodthirstiness that I shivered.
    “Well, guess what,” I spat, “I get to do that for you, too.”
    And then I turned and walked away, silently fuming.
    What did Armin ever do to you, anyway?