As Above, So Below | Jason Grace

iv. something is brewing, about to begin

CHIRON ORDERED KATE AND JASON to come inside the house. Well, "invited" was probably more accurate, but it definitely felt like an order. Much to Drew's chagrin, the old centaur told her to go back to her cabin, which she did with a huff. Kate bit her tongue to avoid a satisfactory smirk.

Chiron trotted over to the empty wheelchair on the porch. He slipped off his quiver and bow and backed up to the chair, which hid his hind quarters in some magical way Kate was much too tired to question. After the last of his hide tucked away, two fake human legs popped out under a wine colored blanket. Chiron appeared to be a regular mortal guy in a wheelchair.

"Follow me," he ordered. "We have lemonade."

The Big House's interior didn't match its old-timey exterior at all. Everything was covered in grapevines, leather, and leopard print. Assorted masks lined the walls: Greek theater masks, mardi gras masks, Venetian Carnevale masks, and wooden masks from Africa. The vines grew through their mouths and eyes, weaving them together in a wine scented web. A fireplace crackled in the center of one wall. Mounted above it was the living head of a leopard.

Kate figured a camp full of monster-attracting kids would embrace the art of subtlety. But, between the bright orange uniform and the chaotic decorations, apparently the Greeks had a knack for theatrics.

"You must excuse the décor," Chiron said, as if he was reading her thoughts. "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?"

"Mmm hmm." Chiron poured lemonade, though his hands were trembling a little. "As for Seymour, well, Mr. D liberated him from a Long Island garage sale. The leopard is Mr. D's sacred animal, you see, and Mr. D was appalled that someone would stuff such a noble creature. He decided to grant it life, on the assumption that life as a mounted head was better than no life at all. I must say it's a kinder fate than Seymour's previous owner got."

Seymour bared his fangs and sniffed the air, as if hunting for more Snausages.

"If he's only a head," Kate asked, "where does the food go when he eats?"

"Better not to ask," Chiron said. "Please, sit."

Kate downed her lemonade, eager to have something in her stomach. Gods, she really was starving. Chiron sat back in his wheelchair and tried for a smile, but his eyes told a different story. They reminded her of Jason's, actually. A perpetual sadness sat deep behind them, like he was already anticipating the pain of their there-and-gone lives and imagining all the ways a god could kill a mayfly. Kate could tell they might've been kind under different circumstances, but they were mysterious, pained, and grim.

"So, Jason," he said, "would you mind telling me—ah —where you're from?"

"I wish I knew."

Jason and Kate told him the whole story, from waking up on the bus to crash-landing at Camp Half-Blood. They kept interrupting each other, butting in to finish each other's sentences. Kate was sure nothing they were saying was coherent, but she wanted to be thorough. It definitely wasn't wise to keep secrets right now. Chiron was a good listener. He didn't react to the story, other than to nod encouragingly for more. When they were finished, Kate sipped her lemonade.

"And you only recall each other? Nothing else?"

"Yes," Jason said, a little too fast. He caught himself. "I mean, I remembered her name. That's it."

Kate raised a brow, but backed him anyway. She was definitely going to bring that up later. "Just a name," she agreed. "And that I could trust him."