Partners in Crime || PJOxHP || Marauders' Era

Enemy

Annabeth was on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog. It almost seemed like the Underworld, because Jessica immediately felt claustrophobic and she couldn't see the sky above—just a close, heavy darkness, as if she were in a cave. Annabeth struggled up the hill. Old broken Greek columns of black marble were scattered around, as though something had blasted a huge building to ruins.

"Thorn!" Annabeth cried. "Where are you? Why did you bring me here?" 

She scrambled over a section of broken wall and came to the crest of the hill. She gasped. There was Luke. And he was in pain. He was crumpled on the rocky ground, trying to rise. The blackness seemed to be thicker around him, fog swirling hungrily. His clothes were in tatters and his face was scratched and drenched with sweat, "Annabeth!" he called. "Help me! Please!"

She ran forward. Jessica tried to cry out: He's a traitor! Don't trust him! But her voice didn't work in the dream. Annabeth had tears in her eyes. She reached down like she wanted to touch Luke's face, but at the last second she hesitated.

"What happened?" she asked.

"They left me here," Luke groaned. "Please. It's killing me."

Jessica couldn't see what was wrong with him. He seemed to be struggling against some invisible curse, as though the fog were squeezing him to death.

"Why should I trust you?" Annabeth asked. Her voice was filled with hurt.

"You shouldn't," Luke said. "I've been terrible to you. But if you don't help me, I'll die."

Let him die, Jessica wanted to scream. Luke had tried to kill them in cold blood too many times. He didn't deserve anything from Annabeth. Then the darkness above Luke began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. Annabeth rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. She held it somehow—tons of rock. She kept it from collapsing on her and Luke just with her own strength. It was impossible. She shouldn't have been able to do that.

Luke rolled free, gasping. "Thanks," he managed.

"Help me hold it," Annabeth groaned.

Luke caught his breath. His face was covered in grime and sweat. He rose unsteadily.

"I knew I could count on you." He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to crush Annabeth.

"HELP ME!" she pleaded. 

"Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die."

The ceiling of darkness began to crumble again, pushing Annabeth against the ground.

Jessica sat bolt upright in bed, clawing at the sheets. There was no sound in her cabin except the soft snoring of Thalia on the other side. The clock on the nightstand read just after midnight.

Only a dream, but Jessica was sure of two things: Annabeth was in terrible danger. And Luke was responsible. 

***

The next morning after breakfast, Jessica and Percy told Grover about their dream. They sat in the meadow watching the satyrs chase the wood nymphs through the snow. The nymphs had promised to kiss the satyrs if they got caught, but they hardly ever did. Usually the nymph would let the satyr get up a full head of steam, then she'd turn into a snow-covered tree and the poor satyr would slam into it headfirst and get a pile of snow dumped on him.

When she told Grover the nightmare, he started twirling his finger in his shaggy leg fur.

"A cave ceiling collapsed on her?" he asked.