The Blood of Olympus

Chapter Thirty Three: Hazel

Hello!!! XD

I love you guys so much! Your feedback has been amazing!!! Thank you!!!

This chapter is dedicated to....*drummmm rollllllllllll* @ThePhantomAngel for getting the correct answer (it was dragon jerky!! :P) , commenting awesome (and sweet) stuff and having an awesome username!!! THANK YOU!!!!! 

It took me AGES to write this chapter!!! I hope it's okay and isn't rushed Dx Plz remember to press that cute little star button in the corner! Make love to it! [i did not just put that ewwwww] 

COMMENT! Don't be a silent reader!!!! XD I love you anyways though!!!

(UNEDITED)

Hazel

To say that Hazel was feeling impatient was a drastic understatement.

She should’ve been on guard duty, but Jason and Leo seemed to want to talk in private up on deck. She was fine with that. She needed time to think by herself. Especially after last night.

Frank had knocked on her happen door. Hazel had not been sleeping, fortunately, due to the fact that she couldn’t sleep without having nightmares. Staying up all night, staring up at her ceiling, was better than crying and screaming in her sleep, enduring wave after wave of regret, shame and pure pain.

The nightmares were getting worse. In fact, the closer they got to Athens, the more vivid and horrible they became.

Frank had showed Hazel his book, The Art of War. Right at the back, someone had written in dark red marker: Give us the sacrifices. The blood of Olympus will be our salvation. Give them to us.

Her boyfriend had been shaken and confused. Whoever had written that must’ve crept onto the ship, sneaked their way into Frank’s cabin and written that. Perhaps the person-or thing-that had done it was still on the Argo2.

The realization was sickening and Hazel was determined not to dwell on it.

Eventually, after the two had stared at the book intently, as if it would give them answers, they agreed to tell the others in the morning.

However, it didn’t exactly turn out that way. Everyone was too busy worrying and the atmosphere was way too tense. The last thing they needed was another problem to worry about.

Besides, it wasn’t just something Hazel could say suddenly in a meeting: “By the way guys, we may have a serial killer hiding in Frank’s closet.”

Hazel realized she was pacing; walking quickly from one side of the room and then to next. She stopped and sat on her bed.

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled-probably the seventh time that day. She dug her hands into her satin sheets and glanced fearfully around the room.

She didn’t understand why she kept feeling like she was being watched and the feeling of dread as the darkness seemed to become impenetrable. It closed in, shadows sprawling across the floor of her room.

Hazel closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Ever since she had “beaten” Pasiphae at the House of Hades, her senses had been sharpened and her instincts enhanced, as if the mist had become one with her, intertwining with the fabric of her soul. She wasn’t complaining about it at all-it was nice to feel like she had powers as powerful as everyone else’s- but it felt slightly alien to Hazel. She wasn’t used to it.