Eye of Hecate

Piper

Borrowing the helicopter is easy. Getting my dad onboard is not. 

I need only a few words through Leo's improvised bullhorn to convince the pilot to land on the mountain. The Park Service copter is big enough for medical evacuations or search and rescue, and when I tell the very nice ranger pilot lady that it would be a great idea to fly us to the Oakland Airport, she readily agrees.

"No," my dad mutters, as we pick him up off the ground. "Piper, what—there were monsters—there were monsters—"

I need both Leo's and Jason's help to hold him, while Coach Hedge and Ozzy gather our supplies. Fortunately Hedge put his pants and shoes back on, so I don't have to explain the goat legs.

It breaks my heart to see my dad like this—pushed beyond the breaking point, crying like a little boy. I don't know what the giant did to him exactly, how the monsters shattered his spirit, but I don't think I could stand to find out.

"It'll be okay, Dad," I say, making my voice as soothing as possible. I don't want to charmspeak my own father, but it seems the only way. "These people are my friends. We're going to help you. You're safe now."

He blinks, and looks up at helicopter rotors. "Blades. They had a machine with so many blades. They had six arms..."

When we get him to the bay doors, the pilot comes over to help. "What's wrong with him?" she asks.

"Smoke inhalation," Jason suggests. "Or heat exhaustion."

"We should get him to a hospital," the pilot says.

"It's okay," I say. "The airport is good."

"Yeah, the airport is good," the pilot agrees immediately. Then she frowns, as if uncertain why she changed her mind. "Isn't he Tristan McLean, the movie star?"

"No," I say. "He only looks like him. Forget it."

"Yeah," the pilot says. "Only looks like him. I—" She blinks, confused. "I forgot what I was saying. Let's get going."

Jason raises his eyebrows at me, obviously impressed, but I feel miserable. I don't want to twist people's minds, convince them of things they don't believe. It feels so bossy, so wrong—like something Drew would do back at camp, or Medea in her evil department store. And how will it help my father? I can't convince him he'll be okay, or that nothing happened. His trauma is just too deep.

Finally we get him on board, and the helicopter takes off. The pilot keeps getting questions over her radio, asking her where she's going, but she ignores them. We veer away from the burning mountain and head toward the Berkeley Hills.

"Piper." My dad grasps my hand and holds on like he's afraid he'll fall. "It's you? They told me—they told me you would die. They said...horrible things would happen."

"It's me, Dad." It takes all my willpower not to cry. I have to be strong for him. "Everything's going to be okay."

"They were monsters," he says. "Real monsters. Earth spirits, right out of Grandpa Tom's stories—and the Earth Mother was angry with me. And the giant, Tsul'kälû, breathing fire—" He focuses on me again, his eyes like broken glass, reflecting a crazy kind of light. "They said you were a demigod. Your mother was..."

"Aphrodite," I say. "Goddess of love."

"I—I—" He takes a shaky breath, then seems to forget how to exhale. My friends are careful not to watch. Leo fiddles with a lug nut from his tool belt in one hand, his other hand interlaced with Ozzy's. She's taken a special interest in a ball of wax she pulled from thin air, shaping it in one hand to look like a...hippo, maybe? I can't tell. Jason gazes at the valley below—the roads backing up as mortals stop their cars and gawk at the burning mountain. Gleeson chews on the stub of his carnation, and for once the satyr doesn't look in the mood to yell or boast.

Tristan McLean isn't supposed to be seen like this. He's a star. He's confident, stylish, suave—always in control. That's the public image he projects. I've seen the image falter before. But this is different. Now it's broken, gone.

"I didn't know about Mom," I tell him. "Not until you were taken. When we found out where you were, we came right away. My friends helped me. No one will hurt you again."

My dad can't stop shivering. "You're heroes—you and your friends. I can't believe it. You're a real hero, not like me. Not playing a part. I'm so proud of you, Pipes." But the words are muttered listlessly, in a semi-trance.

He gazes down on the valley, and his grip on my hand goes slack. "Your mother never told me."

"She thought it was for the best." It sounds lame, even to me, and no amount of charmspeak can change that. But I don't tell my dad what Aphrodite really worried about: If he has to spend the rest of his life with those memories, knowing that gods and spirits walk the earth, it will shatter him.

I feel inside the pocket of my jacket. The vial is still there, warm to my touch.

But how can I erase his memories? My dad finally knows who I am. He's proud of me, and for once I'm his hero, not the other way around. He'll never send me away now. We share a secret.

How can I go back to the way things were?

I hold his hand, speaking to him about small things—my time at the Wilderness School, my cabin at Camp Half-Blood. I tell him how Coach Hedge ate carnations and got knocked on his butt on Mount Diablo, how Leo tamed a dragon, how Ozzy turned a shipping container into butterflies, and how Jason made wolves back down by talking in Latin. My friends smile reluctantly as I recount our adventures. My dad seems to relax as I talk, but he doesn't smile. I'm not even sure he hears me.

As we pass over the hills into the East Bay, Jason tenses. He leans so far out the doorway I'm afraid he'll fall. Ozzy sits up straight too, her eye twitching.