Hades had me 'Shadow Travel'—as he called it—back to Camp on a hellhound. I wasn't too sure on what to do, but the beast seemed to be tame, and he whispered where we were headed in the dog's ear and we were off. Shadow Travelling was like travelling on water—it made me throw up, and all over Mr D's shoes.
I never thought I'd be reuniting with my old Camp Director like that.
He had been sitting out on the deck of the Big House, sipping his Diet Coke and doing his usual sulky glare down at the camp grounds when we appeared right in front of him. He spilt his Diet Coke, and it melt the snow on the ground. And then I only had to make it worse by stumbling over and barfing up on his sneakers. I hadn't eaten anything, so it was just clear, but it was still the most disgusting thing that I've done.
And probably the most dangerous, because I'm sure Mr D would kill me then and there and I'd have to return to Hades with a sheepish look on my face saying, "Um ... I didn't get past the front porch."
For a while, the two of us stared at each other. One in complete anger, the other in complete fear, awaiting my death that was hanging in front of my face like a carrot on a stick.
In the end, Mr D spoke first, "You're back."
He didn't sound surprised, or angry—rather, Mr D sounded unbothered. But then again, that was him with everything.
"Uh, yeah..." I muttered, stumbling forward slightly when the hellhound that had brought me here nudged his head for a pet. "I ... uh ... got called back."
"Oh, I know," the god of wine narrowed his eyes. The hellhound nudged again, and Mr D clicked his fingers in his direction, and the poor pup burst into shadows and sent back to hell. "Don't forget I'm a god too."
I frowned, "Does everyone know?"
"We've known about you for a long time, Clary—"
"—Claire—"
"—and about your future," he finished, ignoring my correction. "Most of us Olympians knew you would die, and that it was prophesied that you would return."
