"This is me trying..." (Book 1 of the Storm Decology)

"Honestly, if she wasn't already dead, I'd kill her myself"

We spent two days on the Amtrak train. Heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

         We weren't attacked once, I couldn't relax, I could feel the wound on my arm sapping my strength slowly. I fell asleep on Percy's shoulder once.

         *DREAM*

        "Hey!" Someone shook me, I shot up and grabbed my sword. "Hey, kiddo, it's me, Thalia"

        "Oh, sorry" I tried slowing down my heartbeat, setting down my sword.

        "I need you to listen to me ok?" She said, Her eyes were dark and full of sadness.

       "Yeah, what is it?" I said not understanding the seriousness.

      " You have to wake up," she said, shaking me.

      "I'm already awake Thalia, you woke me up, are you ok?"

      "You have to wake up!" She repeated, her voice more forceful this time.

     "What do you mean?"

      I woke up. Percy looked at me concerned.

      "You're sweating," he said.

       I blinked away the sick, dizzy feeling. "Where's Annabeth?" He looked at me, concerned. "Where's Annabeth?!" I yelled pushing off him to stand up, the ground shook beneath me. I made my way to the bathroom, leaning and pushing off everything as I leaned over the bathroom sink and puked.

        I puked blood. Annabeth ran in. "Vicky?" She looked at me puking in the sink. "Oh gods" she said, gagging. I looked at my mirror reflection and my eyes were red and bloodshot, my nose was bleeding, it was black, why was the blood black?

        "Get out Annabeth! Now!" I said, puking again. As she left I ripped paper towels out of the little dispenser and wiped off my face and my nose. I ripped off my jacket and looked at my arm. The flesh was black and blistered. The veins halfway down my forearm were black and inky.

        Our reward for returning Gladolia the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver.

         "So," Annabeth asked Percy. I shot Annabeth a glare. "Who wants your help?"

         "What do you mean?" He's playing dumb.

         "When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

          I felt that now familiar pain in my arm and winced as Percy told Annabeth about his dreams. Just breathe, I told myself as the pain increased. I pulled up the sleeve of my Thalia's leather jacket and watched as the black ink in my veins traveled down my arm. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to continue watching it, it traveled from the main vein and worked its way through almost all of the little veins that branched off.

          "Vicky?" Annabeth said, tapping my shoulder. I shoved my sleeve down and turned to face her. "We were talking about Percy's dream," she said, looking concerned.

         "Yes, I remember," I said, as the pain dug into my arm again.

         She turned back to Percy. "That doesn't sound like hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

         "He offered my mother a trade. Who else could do that?"

         "I guess . . . If he meant, 'help me rise from the underworld.' if he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"