IN WHICH a daughter of Asteria falls for a son of Nemesis.
Or
IN WHICH a daughter of Asteria can't seem pick a side.
Book I of 'Written In The Stars' [Wits] Series
Percy Jackson - Pre Heroes of Olympus
Ethan Nakamura x Fem!OC
Wits - plural n. mental...
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WHEN WILL PEOPLE STOP BETRAYING ME?
We emerged in Central Park just north of the Pond. Mrs. O'Leary looked pretty tired as she limped over to a cluster of boulders. She started sniffing around, and I was afraid she might mark her territory, but Nico said, "It's okay. She just smells the way home."
I frowned. "Through the rocks?"
"The Underworld has two major entrances," Nico said. "You know the one in L.A."
"Charon's ferry."
Nico nodded. "Most souls go that way, but there's a smaller path, harder to find. The Door of Orpheus."
"The dude with the harp."
"Dude with the lyre," Nico corrected. "But yeah, him. He used his music to charm the earth and open a new path into the Underworld. He sang his way right into Hades's palace and almost got away with his wife's soul."
I remembered the story. Orpheus wasn't supposed to look behind him when he was leading his wife back to the world, but of course he did. It was one of those typical "and-so-they-died/the-end" stories that always made us feel warm and fuzzy.
"So this is the Door of Orpheus." I tried to be impressed, but it still looked like a pile of rocks to me. "How does it open?"
"We need music," Nico said. "How's your singing?"
"Um, no. Can't you just, like, tell it to open? You're the son of Hades and all."
"It's not so easy. We need music."
I was pretty sure if I tried to sing, all I would cause was an avalanche.
"I have a better idea." I turned and called, "GROVER!"
We waited for a long time. Mrs. O'Leary curled up and took a nap. I could hear the crickets in the woods and an owl hooting. Traffic hummed along Central Park West. Horse hooves clopped down a nearby path, maybe a mounted police patrol. I was sure they'd love to find two kids hanging out in the park at one in the morning.
"It's no good," Nico said at last.
But I had a feeling. My empathy link was really tingling for the first time in months, which either meant a whole lot of people had suddenly switched on the Nature Channel, or Grover was close.
I shut my eyes and concentrated. Grover.
I knew he was somewhere in the park. Why couldn't I sense his emotions? All I got was a faint hum in the base of my skull.
Grover, I thought more insistently.
Hmm-hmmmm, something said.
An image came into my head. I saw a giant elm tree deep in the woods, well off the main paths. Gnarled roots laced the ground, making a kind of bed. Lying in it with his arms crossed and his eyes closed was a satyr.
