a story as endless as the ocean . pjo / allie jackson

0.1 a sense of foreboding

0.1 Something Tells Me This Isn't Going to End Well

I hadn't wanted to leave Camp Half-Blood once I went back after my almost-deadly night out. Luke didn't want me out of his sight, either. Unfortunately, I'd made some prior commitments and needed to grace the cover of Vogue for the I-don't-even-know-how-many-ith time.

That's how I ended up wearing a stereotypical, close-to-slutty Mrs. Claus outfit and in a limo with Luke, Thalia, and Brylie going to a boarding school. It was an eight-hour drive from Manhattan to Bar Harbour and we all hadn't spoken together for about two weeks, considering I'd been very busy, but even still, we hardly talked on the way there.

Part of that was because we didn't want to have our usual conversations in front of Bry, and the other part was because the task we were about to have to partake in kept us quiet. Plus, the blizzard was giving us another worry, considering if we ran off the road, it wouldn't be too good for us.

I'd spent most of the drive trying to figure out the lyrics to the song that had driven me to drink two weeks prior, to no avail. Everytime I hit a wall in my mind I scowled at nothing in front of me.

Finally, Garrett, my personal chauffeur, pulled up to Westover Hall, the boarding school we needed to be at. He stopped the car and while we waited for him to walk around and open the door, Thalia wiped off the fog from one of the windows and peered outside. "Oh, yeah. This is gonna be fun."

"Why do I feel like this is where Bill Belichick lives?" I joked. I saw Luke give me a grin, but Thalia, who was still adjusting to being alive again, hadn't really heard of the Patriot's past football dynasty and the jokes that came with it.

Westover Hall looked like an evil knight's castle. It was all black stone, with towers and slit windows and a big set of wooden double doors. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other. Essentially, where a non-patriots fan assumed Bill Belichick lived.

"Thanks for the ride, Gare," I said, as we climbed out. He grabbed our respective bags and handed them to us.

"Of course, Miss Jackson. Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I'd be happy to wait while you all go in."

"No, thank you. We have another way back." Truthfully, we didn't, but I figured it wouldn't be too difficult to find one. I didn't notice until Luke pushed my hand down, but I'd been fiddling with Riptide in necklace form.

"Alright. Do call if you need me."

"I will." And with that, he got back in the warm limo and carefully drove off.

The Mrs. Claus outfit did little to save me from the elements. Despite the long boots covering most of my legs, the piercing wind settled into my veins due to not having long sleeves.

Without a word, Luke shrugged off his coat and settled it over my shoulders. He hardly even spared me a second glance, making the move as though it was second nature. As though he hadn't even thought it through before doing it. I opened my mouth to argue, claim he needed the warmth of his own jacket, but before I could, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, securing his jacket in place, and using the leverage to move the two of us quickly toward the large set of doors.

"I wonder what he found here that made him send the distress call," Brylie said timidly from behind Luke and I.

I stared up at the dark towers of Westover Hall, a sense of foreboding settling over my bones.

"Nothing good," Luke guessed from beside me.

Thalia and I shot him exasperated looks as Brylie's face grew fearful. She was fourteen, almost fifteen, but she'd had a very rough childhood, so many things scared her. It was a wonder she asked to go with us, much less be given permission.