Daughter of Hades meets Mr. Frost ((ON HOLD))

Chapter Four

.:|Rebecca's pov|:. ****

All I saw was the moon. And it was so huge, and so bright, it chased away the darkness. It lifted me up into the air and I hissed and curled up in a ball. I loved the darkness. That's all I remembered. And, I remembered needing to protect two children at all costs.

Rebecca Hayes Jackson, for your sacrifice, I have given you another chance to do good. You will meet your half brother, Nico DiAngelo. When, I do not know. But you need each other to survive a great evil. And remember, everything is not as it seems... The voice speaking in my head faded. I fell to the ground with a thud, clutching my head. It felt like I had been microwaved, then frozen.

When the pain finally subsided, my head cleared and I remembered some things about my former life. I was goth. I was 17. I was a demigod, a daughter of Hades.

So my half brother was Nico DiAngelo... Cool! I thought he was awesome in the books. Now, what were his special powers? Ah, yes, summoning ghosts, skeletons, minions, and shadow traveling.

Maybe I could do some of that stuff too? That would be cool.

I took a step and found myself floating. I immediately dropped to the ground. I tried again and I hovered in the air. I tried to get people's attention, but they just walked through me as I dissolved into blue mist. Quite an unnerving feeling. But being walked through didn't stop me. I felt really positive, unlike my previous attitude. Thinking about my past life and my death was depressing, and I felt more back to myself. I decided not to give up, though. Maybe I just hadn't found the right person. I saw the boy from my room walking on telephone wires, holding a huge wooden staff in his hand. I closed my eyes and focused on spot in the shadows. The alley right in front of me. I opened my eyes and I saw a huge wall. The Great Wall of China. Wrong shadow. I tried again and appeared back in the shadow in the alley. Now confident that I could do it right, I decided to shadow-travel right behind him, but he was gone. Maybe another time. I looked at myself in a shop window. I really didn't look that different than I did when I was alive. I still had chocolate brown hair and pale skin. I was wearing a red full skirt with petticoats ((if you don't know what they are, look it up)) and black accents, including black ruffles around the hem, and a matching red top that was laced up the front like a corset. It had thin straps, and I was wearing a black shirt underneath with cap sleeves and a high, ruffly collar that matched the trim on my skirt, which also had a thin red bow at my chin. I had black sleeves on my arms that started a few inches below the sleeves of my shirt and ended at my wrists, and they were shredded. I had a wide red headband placed on my head just so, so that my bangs still hung in front of my face, but the rest of my hair was pushed back. I also had black tights and black Mary Janes. ((A/N: the cover picture plus sunglasses)) It was an interesting look, but it worked for me. I was holding a large scythe in my hand that had red stripes on the black handle and a pure black blade. Stygian Iron. I had no idea how I knew what it was called, but I think it was the same type of metal as Nico's sword. I sighed. If I had a scythe, I would probably have to learn to fight. I was going to need better clothing for training. If nobody can see me, then I guess they won't mind me taking some clothes...

========11 years later========

I found several new outfits, but I decided to stay in the outfit I had died in. My 'normal is boring shirt', ripped black jeans, black leather boots and jacket. I had been training for a few years with my scythe, and I was excellent with it. But anything the blade touched died instantly and a small wisp of glowing white mist came out of it and went into the ground. I tried not to let anything touch the scythe, keeping it securely strapped to my back with the blade by my head. Strangely enough, I touched it all the time and I was fine. Often, I would feel this tug in my gut and my face morphed into that of a skeleton's and a black cloak appeared over my shoulders with the hood up, covering my face. I often appeared to children and severely sick people, often times fatal cancer patients. People who were in great pain. I would gently touch their forehead with the blade of my scythe and they would pass, peacefully, painlessly. I would usually come while they were asleep, but every once in a while, they would be awake, and only those on the verge of death could see me. I tried to calm them down, saying I was here to make their time easier, and to ease their families' grief. I would tell the children stories about how everything is beautiful in heaven, and how I would make sure they got in easily, with my father being in charge. I would tie a small ribbon on their wrists to signify that they would go to a sort of limbo, not quite the fields of asphodel, but not quite Elysium. It was a place for those with hardships to rest for eternity. Then I would leave their spirits where they were and tell them someone was coming for them very soon. I explained that they had to go willingly, and trust in him. I didn't know who he was, just that he was another spirit who took souls to the underworld. It was a little sad, which added to my depression.