The Moon's Shine (PJO)

Chapter 30

Four hours later, Percy found himself in camp, staring at the Hypnos cabin. There's no way I'm going in there, right?

There was no choice. An Olympian had given him precious information about a person that could help him—but why did it have to be a daughter of the god of sleep?

He could always just leave and ignore Apollo's advice. After all, the price of this information hadn't been too big of an ask: the Olympian had just wanted to talk to Percy for a bit.

The son of the sea had thought it was a big ask, however—Olympians loved to talk about themselves. But the demigod had been pleasantly surprised, as the sun god included Percy in the conversation. When the four hours were up, and Apollo had to leave to tend to his godly domains, Percy felt like forcing him to stay. But of course, that wasn't an option, so Percy was then sent off on his new journey . . . 

More like a new failure, Percy thought. Did he really need a new recruit? Dealing with Alina and Serena was a handful—and that was the problem. He had no spare time to prepare a new draftee.

It didn't make sense to start recruiting right now—especially since Percy planned on showcasing his surprise in a week. Sure, Alina and Serena were no where close to being ready, but he figured that Artemis would want to mold her subordinates into the way of the huntress—and the easiest course to that would be to have the underlings ready for anything.

But as Percy stepped back, the wind carried the shouts of humans—and he quickly spun around. 

Afternoon classes seemed to have just ended. Demigods streamed from the training arena back to their cabins like a colony of ants. The kids laughed and talked with each other, but Percy knew from experience that their expressions would swiftly change upon noticing him. The son of the sea froze in place, panicking like a thief caught in the middle of a heist. He had two options:

1) Face the demigods head-on. Well, it'd be more like he would run away, but his already-severe social anxiety would get worse. The demigods at camp declined to treat him as a normal human,  to the point where any interaction would make Percy feel as though his hair was rapidly thinning with stress.

2) In contrast, Percy could enter the Hypnos cabin, an ideal escape from society. There was no risk of any Hypnos campers coming into their lodge, as the descendants of the god of sleep preferred their beauty rest to any other activity, especially exercise. And even if the rare Hypnos demigod made it to the arena, Percy didn't expect them to be back within the hour; they had the bad habit of falling asleep every ten minutes.

I probably should obey an Olympian's advice, Percy thought and pushed through the door. He quickly entered before shutting it behind him. 

Outside the cabin, the lead demigods glanced curiously at the movement, but didn't think much of it. They returned their attention back to their peers, their thoughts forgotten.

Meanwhile, Percy found himself wrapped in darkness; despite the commonly-manifested fear of the dark—even more so for demigods, as monsters liked dim spaces—no single nightlight had been turned and the window shades had been closed. If not for the snoring reverberating from everywhere, Percy would've thought the cabin was abandoned. His hand stayed on the doorknob, just in case a camper woke up with his entrance.

The shadows slowly retreated up until they huddled in the corners of the room as Percy's eyes adjusted to the darkness. To his utter indifference, he was met with the exact same layout as his cabin: A door leading to the huge bathroom, bunk beds pushed toward the walls, and a statue in the very center of the lodge. Only, instead of the god of the sea, Percy found him staring at the shirtless man who sent him nightmares. 

The statue of Hypnos similarly spouted out a liquid from its mouth—but instead of water, the basin below was filled with the white liquid of River Lethe. Why in the name of Zeus' underpants would you voluntarily place a dangerous liquid in a cabin? Percy wondered. He wouldn't be surprised to learn if the Hypnos campers complained of memory loss in a few years.

There was one startling difference from the Poseidon cabin: The bunks were full. Sleeping demigods stretched till the eye could see. If Percy didn't know better, he would've thought the Hypnos cabin invited some friends over for a sleepover. It seemed like everyone was out cold.

Except one. A pair of eyes stared at him from the end of the cabin.

In a blink, Percy was pressed to the wall, an arm restraining his hands and something cold and sharp at his neck. 

"Who are you?" a female voice hissed out as the son of the sea realized that it was indeed a dagger at his throat.

"Let's put the weapon down first," Percy said calmly. 

"I won't ask you again: who are you?" The dagger was pushed harder against his throat—and Percy thought he felt a few drops of blood roll down his neck.

Why does everyone choose the violent way? Percy thought. Why couldn't he recruit someone with a brain? "Don't say I didn't warn you," he sighed.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm the one asking the questions here . . ." 

And that's when Percy struck. His assailant's guard was dropped for a few seconds while talking, and she couldn't restrain his legs—and that's all Percy needed. The son of the seas drove a knee into her gut, and as the assailant doubled down in pain, he grabbed the dagger out of her grip and turned it toward her.

"Freeze!" Percy warned as his assailant reached into her pocket. "Don't do anything stupid."

The Hypnos camper had no choice but to raise her arms in surrender. "Kill me," she said defeatedly.

"Just what did I do for you to think that I want to harm you?" Percy asked incredulously. 

"You snuck into our cabin without knocking," the assailant pointed out. 

Percy had to admit, he looked mighty suspicious at this moment. A normal person with innocuous intentions would have made their presence known—and Percy was technically trespassing. But he wasn't going to use his social anxiety as egress of this situation; that would create even more anxiety, and that was the last thing the son of the sea needed. 

"That's not . . . important right now. What's your name?"

"Oh. You want to know the name of the honorable warrior you're going to kill, right?"

By this time, Percy's eyes had fully adjusted to the room, and he was able to see his assailant. She had long, dark hair that reached her torso–and the blue pajamas she was wearing pinned her as a Hypnos camper. 

"I'm not going to kill you," Percy said, annoyed. "I have a proposition for you."

"But . . . I don't know you," Blue Pajama said suspiciously.

And if I knew you, there would be no chance that I'd be inviting you, Percy thought, but bit his lip. Instead, he said, "You've been recommended by an Olympian. Congratulations."

In truth, Apollo hadn't named a single person so much as the collective cabin. His only hint was, "You'll know you've got the right candidate within the minute."

Percy glanced at his watch. It had been more than five minutes. So either Apollo was wrong in his predictions, or he knew something the son of the sea didn't. (Believe it or not, the god of prophecy goofed up the future more than any other immortal. Once, the god went to decorate Lady Artemis' palace for her supposed "birthday," but, unlike Apollo had predicted, his sister was still in her palace—and everyone knows what happened after that.)

Percy's opinion swayed to the former when Blue Pajama said, "If you want to recruit me for whatever you're doing, I'll have to test you."

"That's not necessary," Percy said quickly. "I'm a fully qualified leader. Two people are already training under me."

"But I'm not those two people. So we'll just have to see if we complement each other."

"And how are you going to decide this?"

Percy didn't like the cunning smile on Blue Pajama's face. "Try not to die," she said.

And then the demigod attacked.