The Capture

LIONA

Liona di Angelo was excellent at getting overwhelmed.

Before they reached the pool, Hazel left Liona under Arion's protection to do some very Nico-made breathing exercises. She sat on the sand, half listening to Leo and Hazel doing gods know what behind her. She twisted her rings over and over, running her fingers over the lines of them. She counted them over and over, playing Hand in Glove by The Smiths over and over in her head. She always did that when she got overwhelmed.

That morning, she'd had eight rings. Now she had seven and a snake. She ran her fingers across them, as she had so many times before. The snake from Nemesis, which used to be a ring with three young children playing carved into the pendant in the middle. Her mother had given it to her to fiddle with in the run down hotel. Mere minutes before she was killed. She knew Bianca loved that ring. But Bianca could never come back, she knew that now. Never.

She ran her finger across the back of the snake. It begun to hiss, and Liona leapt back. Flames grew off of it. She wondered why on earth this gift was to her, and not Leo. Tentatively, she picked it up. The flames did not burn. She held it into the lights. Spirits reflected into the fire, ones only she could usually see. She always saw spirits. All the time. She had to concentrate with all her willpower to block them away.

"Più grande," she muttered to it, "andiamo, diventi più grande?"

She expected the command not to do a thing, but the snake grew to three times its size, four, five. She could see more spirits dancing in the fire's light. "Fermare!" she shouted. "Per favore! Fermare!" The snake's growth came to an abrupt stop, just as Liona had said. She muttered to it to get back onto her finger, which it preceded to do.

Liona pressed her hands hard over her ears. The spirits were louder to her, even in the absence of the fire. They screeched to her, begging, taunting. She clammed them further, muttering the lyrics to This Charming Man by The Smiths. It calmed her down. Usually.

Suddenly, she was asleep. She knew she had to be asleep because this was what her subconscious looked like. Dimly lit, monsters and ghosts leaping at her. A voice rose over them all.

Come, little hero. Come to me.

She screamed. This had to be another Gaia dream.

Your brother lies with me. You can have him back. Just come to me.

She screamed louder, still playing music in her head.

These people have wronged you.

She tried to regulate her breathing, as Nico told her to.

Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have wronged you many times. Do you have no hopes for revenge?

"No," she said finally. "I don't want revenge."

Do not be dissuaded by Nemesis. She knows nothing of your pain.

She started screaming again.

I can help you. I can give you what you want.

"Liona!" somehow, there was another voice. And a light. "Liona, wake up! Now! Liona!" She blinked hard and saw Hazel standing over her, shaking her. She was on her feet in seconds. Hazel grabbed her hand. "Come on, we have to go. Fast."

All Liona could do was nod. She spent the rest of the journey recovering her English, piecing words back together. Her best friend was a doctor. He always said reverting to her first language was a fight or flight response, wanting to go back to somewhere safe and homely. But, really, there was no such place.

***

The sound of an alarm for a group meeting ripped Liona from her vinyl. She'd brought the highlights of her collection – The Smiths' full discography, Radiohead's OK, Computer and In Rainbows because they were Nico's favourites, Grace by Jeff Buckley to remind her of her best friend, Will – to sink into the comfort of her music. She fell asleep every night to Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers. Some of her earliest memories were to five minute plays of classical music on her mother's records.