The Altered Seven

Campfire Questions

As soon as Jason saw the house, he knew he was a dead man.

"Here we are," Lee said. "The Big House, camp headquarters."

It didn't look threatening, just a four-story manor painted baby blue with white trim. The wraparound porch had lounge chairs, a card table, and an empty wheelchair. Wind chimes shaped like nymphs turned into trees as they spun. Jason could imagine old people coming here for summer vacation, sitting on the porch and sipping prune juice while they watched the sunset. Still, the windows seemed to glare down at him like angry eyes. The wide-open doorway looked ready to swallow him. On the highest gable, a bronze eagle weathervane spun in the wind and pointed straight in his direction, as if telling him to turn around.

Every molecule in Jason's body told him he was on enemy ground. "I am not supposed to be here," he said.

Lee chuckled. "Yeah, a lot of kids say that. 'I can't be a demigod, I'm a normal kid! I can't have a godly parent!' Usually takes a few days for it to sink in, but you'll get over the shock."

"No. I'm not supposed to be here. At this camp."

Lee frowned. "You know more than you're letting on, don't you?"

Jason shook his head. "I really don't know how to explain it. It's...It's a feeling. I don't feel welcome."

"Might I change that?"

Jason's head whipped around so fast he almost snapped his neck. Standing on the porch was a tall, androgenous person with mousy brown hair tied back in a ponytail. They smiled at Jason, revealing sharp teeth.

"I was wondering when you would show up," they said, their grayish eyes flashing. "Come in, come in. You too, Lee. We could use someone smart in this conversation."

The living room looked like it had been swallowed by a rain forest. Grapevines curved up the walls and across the ceiling, which Jason found a little strange. He didn't think plants grew like that inside, especially in the winter, but these were leafy green and bursting with bunches of red grapes. Leather couches faced a stone fireplace with a crackling fire. Wedged in one corner, an old-style Pac-Man arcade game beeped and blinked. Mounted on the walls was an assortment of masks-smiley/frowny Greek theater types, feathered Mardi Gras masks, Venetian Carnevale masks with big beaklike noses, carved wooden masks from Africa. Grapevines grew through their mouths so they seemed to have leafy tongues. Some had red grapes bulging through their eyeholes.

But the weirdest thing was the stuffed leopard's head above the fireplace. It looked so real, its eyes seemed to follow Jason. Then it snarled, and Jason nearly leaped out of his skin.

"Calm yourself, Seymour," the tall person chided. "Jason is a friend. Behave."

"That thing is alive!" Jason said.

They seemingly summoned a package of Snausages out of nowhere. They threw one to the leopard, who snapped it up and licked his lips.

"You must excuse the décor," they said. "All this was a parting gift from our old director before he was recalled to Mount Olympus. He thought it would help us to remember him. Mr. D has a strange sense of humor."

"Mr. D," Jason said. "Dionysus?

"Yes," they said with a mirthless chuckle. "That bastard of a god."

Jason's eyes widened.

"You would-"

"Talk about a god like that?" they finished with a smirk. "Yes. Dionysus and I have no love for each other, nor will we ever, perhaps. I'm not afraid of angering him," they answered before Jason could ask. "While he is a god, and a rather fun god, if you look into the myths enough, he is not powerful enough to be a threat to me. Nor you, after enough time."