Walk With the Shadows [ Percy Jackson OC ]

FORTY-ONE | Kitty

KITTY DIDN'T FEEL PROUD that for about thirty seconds she seriously considered throwing a temper tantrum. She just wanted to plop down at the base of this dead tree and refuse to move until they promised to go straight to the Door of Orpheus.

The Underworld sucked. Kitty had tried to find something here she liked, but the dark and the Dead and towering palace of Hades, though aesthetically she wanted to appreciate it, just reminded her of her imminent death. Ambrosia had healed her cuts and bruises but it couldn't heal the gaping hole in her emotions.

She'd stayed quiet since they'd arrived in this godsforsaken place. It seemed only fair. They wouldn't be here if she hadn't gambled with Ophelia's life.

Kitty wondered what message Zeus's crackling thunderbolt had drowned out in the battle before the Haunted Mansion. Her mom had started to speak. But then lightning had flashed and the booming echo of thunder had filled her ears.

Then she'd hesitated. Kitty kicked a pebble down the poorly defined path they'd found through the Fields of Asphodel. Ophelia led the way now. Not Alex.

It should've been Alex. Kitty only noticed how tightly she'd gripped the Lyre of Orpheus when her knuckles began to hurt. Not that Ophelia didn’t know how to lead. She’d been all but in charge since they’d dropped down here.

But Alex should’ve led them. He always led them. Kitty wanted to go on this quest for him, not for Ophelia. Looking up from the lyre, she watched the way his feet dragged on the path just behind his girlfriend. His pilfered Disney shirt had stained brown with blood and ash. Kitty couldn’t look away from the shredded tee.

The first time she’d met him, he’d elbowed Travis to the face and shoved him to the dirt in the middle of the arena. She remembered it clearly. Luke had stood between the boys, arms crossed over his chest. She’d tried not to stare at him. But the scar had been fresh back then, with an ugly bruising encroaching on his otherwise aesthetically pleasing face.

To his left, Alex had worn brown leather armor over his bright orange camp tee-shirt and wielded a wooden sword blunted at the tip. Kitty had marveled at the way he stood poised like an expert across from the lanky, overconfident brown haired boy she now knew as Travis Stoll. But then, she’d marveled at everything in Camp Half-Blood when she’d first arrived.

When Lee Fletcher dropped her off with the rest of Cabin 11, she’d been introduced as “another unclaimed.” Travis had shared a short laugh with his brother. Alex hadn’t taken kindly to it.

Luke hadn’t stepped between the two twelve year-olds when Alex had attacked Travis. He’d used the wooden sword at first, but it quickly devolved into a brawl in the dirt after he’d thrown an elbow and given Travis a nose-bleed. When the dust had settled, Alex stood bruised and out of breath, shirt torn but a playful smirk on his face as Travis scuttled away.

She hadn’t been the unclaimed kid for long. Tyche had claimed her that night. It had taken until the end of summer for Travis and Connor to finally speak to her again without glaring. But Kitty hadn’t minded. She’d stuck with Alex in training, learning all about being a demigod of Cabin 11.