BROOKLYN ARRIVED AT her home, only to see nothing.
Or, well . . . all of the staff were unconscious, right where they were supposed to be.
Well, at least that makes it easier to sneak in and out.
She's done this before. She's snuck stuff out from her mother's office without anyone noticing. She made a detour to her room to put her club in its case before creeping to her mother's office.
Wow, Brooklyn thought. This is so easy.
She was ten feet away from her mother's office when the voice she most didn't want to hear appeared. "Brooklyn."
Mentally, she groaned. Physically, she made her feet drag her to the door of the office and open the door.
"You need to learn how to use your powers, Brooklyn." Her mother didn't even look up from her demigod modified computer to look at her, which was absolute bullshit. "I could see your mortality ties from the moment you walked in."
"And you couldn't be bothered to tell me about this until a war is happening?" Brooklyn asked, because, yes, she did have a braincell in her airhead. "This has been happening for over a year."
"You should have told me."
"I thought I was fucking insane, and you're telling me that this is, like, a family thing," she laughed, and it was borderline manic. "This is why I fucking hate you, you know that? Because of course, if life couldn't hate me more, I just have to have mommy issues."
"Life doesn't hate you, Brooklyn." Francesca Hayward finally looked up from her computer. "Not because of my godly parentage and yours."
"Well, I hate life." Involuntarily, a lightning bolt cracked in the middle of the room, burning the wood floor. "Where's the ring?" Brooklyn's eyes bounced around every part of the room to see where the familiar gold glint was, but it wasn't visible. "I can't fight the war with a massive headache and my body going to hell every ten minutes."
"The blame is on you, Brooklyn," her mother said solemnly. "You could stand to take it every once in a while."
The only thing Brooklyn saw was red. Or, well, black and gray due to the non-mortality lines in the barren world she could see. Her smoky fingers reached back and grabbed her club, which felt solid in her wispy hands as she brought the club down on what she assumed was her mother's desk.
When her vision came back, she saw her mother standing, in a defensive position that Percy had taught Brooklyn last summer with her intricately decorated Celestial Bronze sword. "Do you want to play this game, Brooklyn?" Francesca Hayward asked. "The pieces are all set up. You just have to take the first move."
"You and your shitty metaphors," Brooklyn snarled, charging forward with her club.
Despite Percy teaching her a thing or two over the past year and her mother's age, experience clearly triumphs over speed and agility. It didn't help that her mother also possessed both of those things.
They were destroying the house as their weapons clashed over and over again — it was kind of like a dance, the way they were moving, but Brooklyn didn't like to dance. Not unless it was prom with Percy. That had been a fun time.
"You've gotten better," her mother admitted. "Did your boy toy teach you how to fight properly?"
"Do not call him that when he's going to be the hero of Olympus," Brooklyn gritted her teeth. "And what are you doing to help out in the war?"
"Damage control, Brooklyn." Her mother answered, breaking a probably expensive jar with her sword. Brooklyn wouldn't know. She didn't do shit for decorating this place minus her room. "You never think ahead."
Suddenly, she was knocked off of her feet and pinned against the floor, her mother's sword against her throat.
"This is why you need to master your abilities," her mother's fingers loosely wrapped around one of Brooklyn's mortality ties. "Once you've mastered swordsmanship and realm-walking, you'll be the greatest heir the Hayward line will have."
Brooklyn was silent, glaring at her mother, but she knew she was right. She should master her . . . dimension traveling ability. She couldn't make herself weak in battles. And, most importantly, she has to be better than everyone else.
What broke her out of her reverie was, of course, Percy's voice, coming from the balcony. "Brooks!" he yelled. "Are you in here?"
Her mother's guard was down, and Brooklyn batted the sword away from her throat and bolted for the balcony door, picking up her club and its case on the way. She didn't turn back after that, but she could hear her mother following her leisurely.
"What was that you said about being one step ahead?" Brooklyn breathed out as she shoved the door open and leaped onto the railing, frantically shoving her club in the case and latching it together.
"Make sure you actually follow my advice, Brooklyn," she heard as she jumped off of the railing. "And stop running from your destiny."
Brooklyn flailed for a second before she felt Percy's arms wrap around her and deposit her behind him on Blackjack. She exhaled heavily, resting her head between his shoulder blades.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she replied.
"You're injured," he told her. "There's a gash on your neck."
She sat up straight and touched her neck. Sure enough, blood coated her fingers, but the wound wasn't that bad. "I'm fine," she said. "Where're we going?"
"We're helping your favorite cabin," Annabeth drawled from another pegasus. "The Minotaur's here."
"You're kidding," Brooklyn groaned.
They saw the battle before they were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.
They came in for a low pass, and Brooklyn saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, building fiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's way. But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched behind them.
Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. Brooklyn didn't see what happened to him next. She didn't want to know.
"There!" Annabeth called from the back of her pegasus.
Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was the Minotaur.
Brooklyn hadn't been there when Percy had fought the Minotaur — thank the gods — but, man, she would not have wanted to have been twelve year old him, fighting this thing.
From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear — a kiltlike apron of leather and metal flaps, bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull — hair and hide and muscle leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns. He was ten feet tall at least. A double-bladed axe was strapped to his back, but he was too impatient to use it. As soon as he saw Percy with Brooklyn behind him circling overhead, he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.
"Nope, nope, nope," Brooklyn ducked behind Percy. "Why'd I have to get on your pegasus?"
"Blackjack, dive!" he yelled at the same time.
They were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward them, flipping fender over fender like a two-ton boomerang. Annabeth and her pegasus swerved madly to the left, while Blackjack tucked in his wings and plunged. The limo sailed over Brooklyn's head, missing by maybe four inches. It cleared the suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.
Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car.
"Drop us behind the lines with the Apollo cabin," Percy told Blackjack. "Stay in earshot but get out of danger!"
Blackjack swooped down behind an overturned school bus, where a couple of campers were hiding. Annabeth, Percy, and Brooklyn leaped off as soon as their pegasi's hooves touched the pavement. Then Blackjack and Porkpie soared into the night sky.
Michael Yew ran up to them. He was definitely the shortest commando Brooklyn had ever seen. He had a bandaged cut on his arm. His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having a great time.
"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?"
"For now, we're it," Brooklyn gave him a fist bump.
"Then we're dead."
"You still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked.
"Nah, left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing."
"Least you tried," Percy said.
Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"
He drew an arrow and launched it toward the enemy. The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew. When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's largest speakers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot.
"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said.
"A gift from your dad?" Percy asked. "God of music?"
"No duh," Brooklyn muttered. He nudged her. Ow.
Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."
Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion.
"We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."
"No," Percy said. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."
"To me? You shouldn't have," Brooklyn smirked.
"Shut up, Hayward," he rolled his eyes at her.
Michael gave her a teasing smirk at their banter. The Apollo cabin had always supported her and Percy's relationship, even if it was fake. "How do you plan to do that?" he asked Percy.
Naturally, he drew his sword.
"Percy," Annabeth said, "let me come with you."
"Too dangerous," Percy absolutely denied her, nearly making Brooklyn smirk. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."
"Alright then," Brooklyn shrugged, taking her club out of the case. "Let's go."
"No," he turned to her, shaking his head. "I won't let you, Brooks."
"I was wrong to believe that I could overpower fate, apparently," she rolled her eyes. "But I have my ability, Perce. I need to learn how to use it."
"In the middle of a battle?"
"When else am I going to learn, idiot?"
"Not now," he pleaded. "You're still weak from your fight with your mom. Heal up."
They had a staring contest. He reached out and, without blinking or looking away, wiped blood off of her neck, which made her blink. "Cheater," she muttered, but then she sighed. "Fine, worrywart. Get moving."
He gave her a small smirk, and then he told her: "kiss me."
She only raised her eyebrows at him.
"A kiss to make this feel better," he frowned at the shallow gash on her neck, "and for good luck."
Brooklyn rolled her eyes. "I have the Hayward luck, remember?" she leaned in and gave Percy a small kiss anyway, which made her brain all foggy, despite nearly a year of kissing him. "But that'll pass some of it to you."
He gave her a slightly goofy grin before stepping out from behind the school bus. He walked up the bridge in plain sight, straight toward the enemy.
"He's going to get himself killed," Brooklyn muttered under her breath.
"Have some faith in him," Annabeth said just as the Minotaur bellowed, and Percy responded with, "hey, Beef Boy! Didn't I kill you already?"
"Uh huh," Brooklyn said, just as an Apollo cabin came by with a medkit. She hissed as they treated the gash on her neck with an alcohol wipe, finishing with a plaster on her neck and a small chunk of ambrosia was shoved in her hand. She ate it slowly, but it made her feel better, and not as tired as she felt earlier.
By the time she peeked out from behind the bus, Percy had defeated the Minotaur, tossing him over the side of the bridge.
"God, that's hot," Brooklyn muttered under her breath. An Apollo camper nearby snickered at her and told her that she was a simp.
But now he was stupidly charging at the two hundred monster army, and if she'd thought that him killing the Minotaur was hot, well . . . she should've braced herself.
Percy sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. He slashed and stabbed and whirled. The Apollo campers shot arrows behind him, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled — about twenty left alive out of two hundred.
Percy followed with the Apollo campers at his heels. Naturally, Brooklyn followed them, because she felt confident in those odds. Then again, she'd feel confident with her and eighty other monsters.
"Yes!" yelled Michael Yew. "That's what I'm talking about!"
They drove the monsters back toward the Brooklyn ( the city, not Brooks herself, because hello, no ) side of the bridge. The sky was growing pale in the east.
"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!"
Brooklyn saw the crowd at the base of the bridge. The retreating monsters were running straight toward their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armor, mounted on skeletal horses. One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design.
The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm, and there was Luke, his eyes like molten gold. But Luke didn't have gold eyes. That must've been Kronos. Or, you know, Brooklyn's grandfather. Gross.
She, Annabeth, and the Apollo campers faltered. The monsters they'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in their direction.
The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. The archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding.
"Retreat!" Percy told the Apollo cabin, Annabeth, and Brooklyn. "I'll hold them.'"
In a matter of seconds the army was on them.
Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but Brooklyn and Annabeth stayed right beside Percy, Brooklyn swinging her club and Annabeth fighting with her knife and mirrored shield as they slowly backed up the bridge.
Kronos's cavalry swirled around them, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced leisurely, like he had all the time in the world.
Brooklyn couldn't see faces under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been her allies, once upon a time. Percy slashed the legs off their horses and made the skeletal mounts disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured out they'd better dismount and fight on foot.
Percy, Annabeth, and Brooklyn stayed shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. Brooklyn's vision flickered between real life and the realm she could see, and her club was solid in her hands as she slashed at the mortality ties. When her vision went back, she found that the demigods she was fighting were either wounded or dead. That was actually sick.
They'd almost made it to the middle of the bridge when Brooklyn saw Percy's newest mortality tie threaten to tear. Someone was trying to kill him. So she dove in front of him, coming back into her body just in time to feel the knife slide into her shoulder.
She cried out in pain, her knees buckling and she fell to the ground. She looked up to see a demigod with a bloody knife standing over her.
Her vision went red, though whether that was from the wound or from anger, she didn't know. She pushed out her hurt and anger to a static shock, sending the demigod back a long ways away.
"Get back!" Brooklyn faintly heard Percy yell, slashing his sword in an arc. "No one touches her!"
Bro, if she wasn't extremely hurt right now, she'd be swooning.
"Interesting," Kronos said.
He towered above her on his skeletal horse, his scythe in one hand. He studied the scene with narrowed eyes.
"Bravely fought, Percy Jackson," he said. "But it's time to surrender . . . or the girl dies."
"Perce, don't," Brooklyn pleaded. Her body hurt like hell. The blood soaking her shirt ( she'd fucking liked that thing ) was the same color as her mortality ties, but she'd go down fighting if she had to. She's Brooklyn Hayward, after all.
"Blackjack!" Percy yelled.
As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped his teeth on the straps of Brooklyn's armor. As they soared away over the river, her vision faded to black and she fell unconscious.