Bloodlines: Ichor || [2]

CXXVI. Life and Love

AS ARIANA DREAMED, SHE FOUND HERSELF in the rec room of the Big House, all the senior camp leaders gathered around the ping-pong table.

At one end sat Chiron the centaur, his equine posterior collapsed into his magic wheelchair so he looked like a regular human. His curly brown hair and beard had more gray streaks than a few months ago. Deep lines etched his face.

"– things we can't control," he was saying. "Now let's review our defenses. Where do we stand?"

Clarisse sat forward. She was the only one in full armor, which was typical. She probably slept in her combat gear. As she spoke, she gestured with her dagger, which made the other counselors lean away from her.

"Our defensive line is mostly solid," she said. "The campers are as ready to fight as they'll ever be. We control the beach. Our triremes are unchallenged on Long Island Sound, but those stupid giant eagles dominate our airspace. Inland, in all three directions, the barbarians have us completely cut off."

"They're Romans," said Rachel, doodling with a marker on the knee of her jeans. "Not barbarians."

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. She'd admit, it hurt and angered her to hear such insults from her own cabin mate. But this was a war. Her feelings were more than understandable.

"What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would've been nice if you'd foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn't break down when we needed it most!"

Rachel's face turned as red as her hair. "That's hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo's gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it—"

"She's right." Will Solace put his hand gently on Clarisse's wrist. Not many campers could've done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people's anger. He got her to lower her dagger. "Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It's not just Rachel."

Will's shaggy blond hair and pale blue eyes reminded Ariana of Jason, but the similarities ended there. Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in the sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as unaggressive as a demigod could get, but Ariana knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, she had seen him in action – the camp's best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers. He'd saved her too.

"We don't know what's going on at Delphi," Will continued. "My dad hasn't answered any prayers, or appeared in any dreams ... I mean, all the gods have been silent, but this isn't like Apollo. Something's wrong."

Across the table, Jake Mason grunted. "Probably one of those Roman dirt-wipes who's leading the attack –Octavian what's-his-name. If I was Apollo and my descendant was acting that way, I'd go into hiding out of shame."

But if no one could see the future, Ariana figured that included Octavian. Gods, he must've been losing his mind. Her promise rang back to her—her oath to get him to see sense. She didn't regret it, though she knew any rational person would never have done it in the first place. But Octavian was her friend. She wanted to believe she still knew him.

"I agree," Will said. "I wish I was a better archer ... I wouldn't mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse, and Anïas too. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father's gifts to stop this war." He looked down at his own hands with distaste. "Unfortunately, I'm just a healer."