Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 8

My fingers trail over the walls, slipping into the grooves between cold stones. I feel Dad's eyes on me as I circle my room. His gaze scritters and crawls over my skin, unerring and insatiable. I shudder.

"No one can get in here," he says. He hasn't left his spot by the door.

"Is that why there's no windows?"

"If you have a nightmare, I'd rather not have to replace the glass every other night."

"Every night," I correct.

He frowns. Water tugs at the back of my shirt collar, straightening it. "Do you want me to get a sleeping tonic from one of the healers?"

"I nearly got murdered in an alley. There's no way in Hades I'm going to put myself in a position where I can't defend myself." Sleeping aids never seem to help anyway. How many times had I tried taking any combination of things to knock me out after the first war? The one time they seemed to work was also the same night Hera kidnapped me out of my bed and kept me asleep for months. No. I want to be able to wake up. A knife under a pillow's no use if you aren't aware of the threat. "Are you sure no one can get in?"

Letting out a long sigh, he moves to hug me. I melt into his chest, closing my eyes and pressing closer. "I'm sure." For a minute, he's silent, simply petting my hair. "Why did you really leave?"

"I told you---"

"I know my own children."

"I..." I hesitate. What can I say? "I don't want Mom to worry."

It works. Not in the way I want it to, because if it had, he wouldn't be pulling me closer. He'd be letting me leave. My room at home is safer. It's familiar and comfortable and the right size. I want that. As plush and well-thought out and intentioned this place is, it's not really mine. He might say it is, but nothing here reflects what I like. Well, aside from the pillows.

"Everything will be fine." He kisses my head. "You just need to let me handle things, okay?"

It's hard to swallow. How much will this cost? It won't be a cheap thing, whatever he means by handling it. There's always a catch, and with the gods it's usually paid in blood or strife. Even this, him holding me and cradling me, it'll cost me something. I should push away. I do---and ignore the hurt look on his face.

His shoulders fall, but he guides me to the cushions. "I'll see if I can get you something good to eat. Maybe some pancakes? Or do you like waffles better?"

"I just ate whatever Mom gave me." There'd never been much money when I was younger, so I didn't get to be picky. Anything was better than going hungry after Gabe decided I was being 'ungrateful'. I sink into the pile and Dad uses the water to pull a blanket over me. My smile makes some of the scales on his arms disappear. "But waffles sound good."

"I'll be right back," he says. "Stay here." Glowing green eyes focus on me, brimming over with power; they flick away when I nod. "You worried me." The furniture shifts with the force of him slamming the door. I keep an eye on it, half expecting him to throw it back open. All it does is glow a faint blue, the same shade as Dad's aura.

After a half-hour, my wariness fades into dull worry, then curiosity. I slip out from the blanket and pad across the floor. The wood is firm to my touch, but the glow shifts and bends around my hand, like I'm pressing at half-set gelatin. It sticks to my skin like it too; I grimace, yet still grab the door handle. I know he told me to stay here. I know it's not smart to test a god.

But it doesn't take this long for a mortal to make a couple waffles.

The halls are empty, bright, echoing. They seem to twist and turn, distracting and disorienting me. I take off a sock and leave it at a corner, only to pass it three more times. The fourth time, I don't.