On the Wings of Victory (A Percy Jackson Quest)

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You're stuck on a bed for about eighty minutes. Eighty minutes too long according to you and the doctors and nurses have been less than pleased with the amount of fidgeting you've been doing. You keep trying but you can't help it, you can't sit still. Even now your eyes flit about the room you've already memorised looking for something new or interesting to give your attention to. The nurse grabs at your still swinging leg so she can get close for another check-up and without that movement it feels like there's a pressure building in the back of your head ready to explode.

Tick-Tock

Tick-Tock

The sound of the clock on the wall is all you have to be able to narrow your senses as she tells you to close you eyes and you focus on it until she gives you the all clear. She then leaves, but not before placing an object on your bed that you're all too familiar with.

Your phone is sleek, black and the cover is riddled with cracks that run all along the back, but the screen is fine. You turn it on and you have eleven missed calls, three texts, a Facebook message and even one through Instagram. Your dad's covered every base he could think of, apparently. You swipe through, looking for anything else you've missed before your hand hovers over the call icon for a few seconds. Your dad's name on the screen. You decide it's best to get it over with than wait for him to call again.

He picks up before the call even shows that it's connected.

"Hector." He says, his voice sounding hoarse over the phone.

"Hey dad, just got my phone back." You tell him as you hop off the bed and start walking around. "Still in the hospital for another hour or so before they're going to send me home."

"So you're fine?" He presses. "Did the doctors tell you anything?"

"Couple of bruises, my arm looks pretty messed up but yeah, I'm fine." You answer. "They'll probably call you soon to let you know I'm right to go home."

You hear a sigh of relief over the phone. "Thank God." Your dad says. "The police gave me a quick rundown earlier, but didn't know how you were. I've been going a bit crazy." He admits with a strained chuckle that lets you know he's still, very concerned.

"When do you think you'll be getting back?" You ask, trying to steer the conversation towards more common ground.

There's a pause over the phone for a few moments. "…In a couple of days." He grinds out. "After I heard what happened I told Reg I needed to get the first flight back but he refused to find someone else to close out the deal."

Your chest feels a bit tight for a second, and you lose your stride for an instant, but you shrug it off. You windmill around in the corridor, trying not to stray to far from your room, but still trying to stretch your legs. You'd always hated being cooped up, and an hour and a half of not moving had nearly driven you up the wall.

"Hector?"

"Yeah dad?"

He seems to pause over the phone for a few seconds. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I mean, I want to run, or do something." You admit. "Not from home or anything." You say quickly before he gets the wrong idea. "I just feel, like I need to be doing something, not sitting down."

Your father processes what you say over the phone for a bit, before you hear a "Tch." Noise you associate with whenever your dad makes a difficult decision.

"I'm gonna make a few calls, and I'm going to make sure you've got a friend of mine coming to check in on you." He continues. "I know it's not the same as me being there, but they're going to come watch the house, and you until I get back. We'll be able to talk more then."

"Thanks," You say as you hear a shout in your direction and step out of the way of an oncoming gurney, the nurses raising an eyebrow at you as they pass. "But you don't need to bother them, I'm good."

Your father lets out a shaky laugh. "You always are, but still it's just for my own piece of mind ok?" His voice then becomes a conspiratorial whisper. "What if I cut you a deal?"

You smile a little. It was a game you'd played ever since you learned what a businessman did. "Name your terms old man."

"They're already on their way and should be there by the time you get let out." He tells you. "So what if we go away for a road trip when I get back. Spend some time together."

"Add money for takeout tonight and I think we're in business."

"I'll get them to grab some food on the way, so dinner should be sorted." You dad says. "Sound good?"

"Deal."

You make small talk for a little while longer, asking about his trip before you hang up the phone and let him get back to work. Walking further down the hallway, you find a small sitting area. With no one around you kick your legs up on the chair in front of you and play on your phone, waiting for a nurse or doctor to come fetch you with the all clear.

"Three Students were today involved in a traffic incident today, outside Shenandoah National Park."

Your attention is caught, and you crane your neck in the direction of the TV behind you. The news piece quickly pans to the park forest, your blood running cold as you see the clearing you were in earlier. Trees snapped in half, scorch marks along the forest floor, the upturned car with emergency services crowding the scene.

You didn't remember all of that.

And then the video begins to flicker, the ruined trees become fallen branches, the scorch marks completely absent. You blink your eyes, trying to focus on the screen but with each blink you see something different.

"It's believed that a burst tyre caused the car to suddenly swerve out of control. The students have been taken to the nearest hospital and so far, have escaped with no more than minor injuries. Park rangers have reiterated that drivers remain cautious on the roads..."

You tune the rest of it out. Mind still going over what you'd seen. Busted tyre? What the fuck were they thinking? A busted tyre couldn't do that. Hell, Alicia hadn't even been driving over forty.

"Hector Reed?"

You whip around at the sound of your name and see two men staring at you. The one in front peers down at you with a hint of concern.

"You alright kid?"

You nod quickly, taking in their appearance for the first time. The doctor makes a non-committal grunt at your answer, scrutinising your every move for any sign of trouble.

"Final test came back," He says finally. "You're free to go."

"How are Alicia and Doug?" You ask, while internally cheering at your newfound freedom.

At this the doctor stills. "We're keeping them here overnight for safekeeping." He replies.

From the look on his face, you're not getting much more of an answer.

That's not good.

"What's wrong?" You ask. "The nurses said they were going to be fine earlier."

The doctor narrows his eyes at you, muttering something about 'privacy' before he shrugs.

"I can't give you more since you're not an immediate family member. I'll just say that they're stable and leave it at that. If you want to ask one of their parents, then you can do that in your own time."

With that he continues past you before you're able to get another word in.

You fists clench and unclench as he stalks past, the man with him gives you an apologetic smile but nothing more than that and hurries after him.

And just like that you're alone again.

A short while later you're out, with a stern reminder to call them immediately if anything feels wrong. Advice you'll be sure to follow as you sit in line and wait for the taxi to take you home. You feel fine, physically at least. There's a few minor aches, some bruises peppering your side and a bandage on your left cheek that occasionally draws a wince when you yawn. Otherwise yeah, you're good to go. You aren't as willing to try getting run over by a mechanised animal again as you were before the day started but you were never really that thrilled at the prospect in the first place.

Alicia and Doug though, it was troubling.

Douglas Druesdale, Doug for short. There'd been a time as kids that you'd called him Double D but the older you got the more scandalised people became and you quickly shelved that nickname before you moved into high school.

And Alicia Farris, your next door neighbour, a year older than you but almost half a foot shorter. You'd been inseparable since you'd moved into the neighbourhood four years ago when dad got relocated for work.

You'd been going camping for the evening, Alicia had wanted to go all summer and Doug had been complaining of boredom to you the day before. Between the two of them, there'd been an opportunity and you'd taken it. A weekend away from the house, an adventure and some time in the great outdoors with two of your close friends.

And now there was something wrong with both of them, and no-one would tell you what. Either they didn't know themselves or things were bad.

Was it your fault?

You remembered that monster from the woods, staring at you and you alone.

Who would be with you next time?

The driver that picks you up is quiet. He seems reluctant to make conversation and you suppose that if you were picking people up from a hospital there'd be dozens of landmines best avoided by silence. You see your face in the rear-view mirror later and realise your face has been fixed into a murderous glare for the better part of at least twenty minutes. That'd probably do it as well.

You make sure to leave him a solid tip when you pay.

You get out of the car and the front door is open. Slowly, you make your way forward, remembering that your dad said there'd be someone there.

But how did they get here so soon?

A soothing aroma emanates from the kitchen, and you knock on the wall.

"Come in!"

You walk into the house, and at the end of the kitchen you see a woman peeking at you through the door.

Black curls frame her face, piercing blue eyes barrel into yours and you don't think you've seen a more attractive woman in your life. She points a spatula at you.

"You, are late!" She says, a gloop of something falling off the utensil and splashing the floor. You wince as it begins to seep into the carpet. "Don't just stand there, come in, come in." Making a come hither motion and you move in, closing the door behind you.

"Dad sent you?" You ask as you move into the kitchen. Pots and Pans hanging above the bench.

"Yes!" She responds immediately. "He asked me to check in, see if everything's alright." She says as she glides around the kitchen bench, a sprig of leaves appearing in one hand and falling into potentially the largest pot you've ever seen. One large enough that all four burners are on at the same time as boiling water bubbles to the top. From it that heavenly aroma you smelt earlier, and a golden liquid sloshes through it as she stirs the ingredients in. It's enough to almost make your mouth water.

"What are you making?" You ask, as you cautiously lean on the counter to try and take a better look, hand reaching for the spoon she left standing against the side.

"You. I mean Stew!" The woman says with a nervous cackle as she glides behind the kitchen bench and slaps your hand away from the pot. "It should last us at least a couple of days until your father gets back, then maybe even a week!"


You feel a scratch as the nails rake across your hand. Enough that a thin droplet of blood ekes out and she seizes up for an instant before she's all over you.

"Oh you poor darling," she says, grabbing it almost immediately. "Do you need a bandaid?" She asks, pressing her lips to your hand almost immediately.

You wrench it out of her grip, with a struggle. "I don't think we're that close yet." You say with a sheepish laugh, one that stops as she glares at you, your blood smeared across her lower lip. Just as quickly she wipes her thumb across it and wipes her hand with a towel.

"Well we'll have to fix that won't we…" She replies, trailing off at your name.

"Hector." You fill in.

"Yes, Hector." She says as she turns away from you. "That's a fine name you have." She says, her back still turned.

You pause for a second. "Dad didn't tell you my name?"

"He would have mentioned it in passing, but I drove over so quickly I must have forgot." She says, waving you off airily. "Anyways, you can call me Lamia."

The name tingles something in the back of your mind. "That's… Greek isn't it?" You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose as you try to force your knowledge to the forefront.

"Yes." She says, "It's seems your father's taught you well."

You wave off the compliment. "I like history, that's all."

"Smart and athletic, you'll be fending the girls off!" She says with a slight chuckle as she quickly dices through a bundle of carrots and sprinkles them into the pot. "But, yes I'm from Greece. It's been quite a while since I've been home." She says wistfully. "We play with the cards we're dealt though of course."

A timer goes off, a repetitive, loud beeping which almost hurts your head and Lamia moves over to her phone, turning it off. "Well the temperature should be perfect, all that's left is the meat."

You hop over to the fridge. "I think dad had some pork, if not we can defrost some chicken." You tell her as you open the door. "You have a preference?"

"Stop."

The word isn't in English, but somehow you know what it means. There's power behind it too, because you feel your muscles seize automatically. You try to take a step back, but your legs refuse to move. You try to move your arms but they stay bolted, one hand on the fridge door, the other by your side. You can't even look down at your feet as neck refuses to swivel up, down, left or right. All that you can move are your eyes, staring at the scarce remnants of whatever you had yet to eat that week.

You don't hear her steps behind you, but you know she's moving. The sounds of something grinding against the floor echo through the room.

You feel her breath at the back of your neck before you feel her warmth, looming over you. From your back you feel her pressed up against you, from the front the chill cool of the refrigerator puts your body between two extremes. Out of the corner of your eye to see blue eyes peering into yours. Her hair tickles your cheek as her hand digs into your shoulder. Hair, that then becomes something wet and ticklish as her tongue runs up the side of your face.

Had she always had fangs?

"Such a sweet child." She says, cupping your chin. "And so, very, very tasty. I was surprised I hadn't smelt you before to be honest. The second I latched on to you though, it was so… intoxicating. Positively scrumptious."

She was already leaning against you, but now her mouth moves to your ear. "You want to know something?" She whispers in your ear.

"You might be the most delicious thing I've eaten in months."


You want to move… You need to move…

Your fingers, they flex for a moment, one by one you're able to curl your hand into a fist and you unclench it just as quickly in case she looks down.


[] Run, run, get out of the house and don't come back. She can't kill you in the middle of the street.
[] This woman can't be who your father sent for you. Maybe they're still coming? Run, Hide, Delay. Maybe they can help.
[] The same knife she used to cut the carrots is in arms reach, grab it and fight.
[] Write-In