Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Note: For those of you who saw missed my derpiness, I posted Sadie's first chapter (10?) reallllllly late. I'm sorry about that! I would suggest reading it though (if you haven't) before you dive into this one! As always, thanks for reading!

            Sadie here. I feel like Jack must’ve made you knackered with that obtuse side story.

Jack is offended and says it is a Homeric style prose and a tribute to Percy Jackson’s early epic tale before the Romans got involved. Huh. I must have missed why that was important while reading my Egyptian Mythology is Better memo.

            I needed to have a serious chat with my cat before we jumped off a metal dragon and into a swirling vortex of sand.

            Ah, yes. That was a fun part of the story: Leo had “fixed” the silver, scaly monstrosity that I had almost used as a landing mat earlier.

            “Eh, ‘fixed’ enough that she won’t be homicidal for another like… thirty minutes,” he said with a shrug. “Felix is a little temperamental. You know dragons.”

            “At Brooklyn House, we’re lucky if our resident griffin didn’t go homicidal every thirty seconds, so I like those chances,” I said.

            Jason looked at us like we were both mental. “Or we could take public transportation or pegusi.”

            Leo and I both scoffed at him.

            “Bro, where is your adventuring soul?” Leo asked and clapped the larger boy’s shoulder.

            “Back by the word ‘homicidal,’” Jason sighed.

            “Come now, it’ll be a bit more discrete tailing Merry’s taxi in a dragon than public transportation,” I teased. “And I don’t fancy learning to ride a pegasus on the fly.”

            “As opposed to on the ground?” Leo asked, his eyes darting to me. He really did look like a madman with all that nervous energy.

            I enjoyed this crazy elf. What was sad though—I wasn’t being sarcastic about dragon stealth: it would be harder to see us coming after Merry in the air. The magic that kept the mortal and immortal separate—I think the Greeks call it the Mist?—would do what it could to mask our scaly flight.

            We knew we couldn’t follow Merry all the way in, but we wanted to make sure the daughter of Dionysus got to the right general area without excess mischief from Eris. I was a bit disappointed to hear her cabbie wasn’t a Greek god of dwarves. (If there is a Greek god of dwarves, I’m sure he’s the best Greek god.) Without such protection, Jason, Leo, and I agreed it best to escort Merry into New York City, then we could veer off towards Cleopatra’s Needle, one of the closest portals to hop to Arizona. A tad roundabout, but I enjoyed going back towards my home turf in Brooklyn.

            And, I enjoyed the image of little children in the city, pointing at the dragon like, “Oh look! A parade balloon that could absolutely murder us! Cheers!”

            Unfortunately, Leo vetoed my idea of hooking up a chariot to Felix’s back for our ride. “Unless you like crash landings taken to a whole new level.”

            Instead, we hopped directly on the silver monster’s back and we were off.

            And I do mean off. Shockingly, I found myself missing Freak, our resident griffin, for providing such a smooth ride, and if his name doesn’t indicate enough, his rides are not smooth.

            “Right, one of you chaps balance me. I don’t fancy almost tumbling to my death twice in one day, thank you,” I said, concentrating on my Duat storage locker. The Duat was like a deeper version of reality, a swirling mess of magic underneath our swirling mess of not-magic. When I concentrated, I could pull out things that I had stored inside.[1] 

            Leo’s maniac laughter whistled as the breeze blew my hair around. Jason sat in the very back, doing some bit of fancy wind-Shu magic to keep us from freezing under the icy battery. Leo whispered something into the dragon’s ear—Do automaton dragons have ears? Or just little holes with microphone inputs?—and gave Jason a thumps up over my shoulder. Leo asked, “You’re not feeling too winded are you?”

            Really, Leo must have made those jokes all the time. The son of Jupiter didn’t flinch. “I can keep us from dying if she bucks,” Jason said.

            Bucking dragons. Add that to a sideshow attraction.

            As they talked, I realized that I really needed to clean out my Duat locker. There were empty bags of chips and failed homework assignments and—was that some fungus that would make a petri dish squirm? I dug deeper, wondering how stupid my hand miming would look to the boys.

            Leo seemed assured that Felix wouldn’t go haywire if Leo helped me, or at least Jason could make it so they wouldn’t die if Felix did. In the normal layer of reality, I could see Leo turn to face me, grinning like a lunatic with his goggles covering his eyes for wind resistance. This was how he was supposed to exist: flying in the sky, littering jigsaws and hydraulic pumps to all the blacksmiths and mechanics lucky enough not to be crushed by them. A grease monkey Santa.

            He slid past and behind me to wrap an arm around my waist for stability. This was only for business, naturally, but I would have to apologize to Walt and Anubis later. Would dead and death-god boys be the jealous type?[2]

            “Stability? I thought you liked skydiving, oh daughter of Graceful Entrances,” he teased.

            I found my bowl and thermos and withdrew them. Yep! A thermos. Just screams “Egyptian magic,” doesn’t it?

            “Sorry! I’m going to need you to hold that thought while I make a call.” This probably wasn’t the smartest form of communication, considering I would need to balance this bowl and its sloshing liquids on a dragon flying at least half a mile over New York, but I’d done worse.

            “Wow!” Leo said, “Where did you get that stuff from? Do you have a magic tool belt too? Does it function the same?”

            The magic tool belt would explain where he was getting lots of mischievous bits. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to dip my vision into the Duat and check out your belt when all this is over,”
 I called over my shoulder as I set up my scrying bowl. Even with Jason’s magic preventing the winds from biting us too deep, my fingers were shaking and I can’t pretend I didn’t appreciate Leo’s warmth on my back.

            “Jeez, forward much, aren’t you, lady?” he asked with a laugh.

`           “Leo,” Jason said in a warning tone.

            Leo’s laugh cut off. I could feel his humor die.

            “Your older deity-girlfriend the jealous type?” I asked sympathetically, remembering his comment about having a girlfriend at camp. “She wouldn’t want you joking with little ol’ me?”

            Leo sighed. “Yea.”

            I felt a pang of camaraderie in my chest. It wasn’t everyday you met someone else that suffered the difficulty of dating godly perfection. After all this was over, I decided Leo and I would have to swap stories.

            Before I could suggest it, an image appeared in the trembling, black oil of my scrying bowl that I wasn’t expecting.

            “Auck, this isn’t milk,” a female growled.

            “Bast!” I cried for joy. I hadn’t talked to my cat in ages! Well, not literally ages since that was possible being a magician and all, but it had been an awfully long time.

            “Oh, Sadie, my little kit,” she cooed.

            In the violent ripples, I could almost make out the form of a woman with sharp features, golden eyes, and black hair. Although the image wasn’t clear enough to see her expression, I could imagine her amused smile. I choked back some tears, not wanting to break down in front of the commander or the son of Jupiter.

            “Oh Bast, it is good to see you,” I said, struggling to remember why I called. The icy breeze and bobbing dragon helped. “I was expecting a much uglier face.”

            That might sound awfully rude to you, as it should, but Bes, my lovely dwarf god, was mighty proud of his hideousness. And Bes promised he could come back to the mortal world more often than the other gods…

            “Ah, yes.” Bast sounded almost embarrassed. “I agreed to take all of Bes and Tawarit’s calls and prayers while they were on vacation. Sort through offerings. Water some of his best outfits to make them moldier for battle. The usual kind of Duat keeping. I owe it to Bes and Tawarit for… lost time on my part.”

            I held back a smile for the happy couple. “So they’re on holiday, then.”

            Bast must have nodded. “He and his… honeycakes have a millennia of catching up to do. But, I doubt you called to hear such stories.”

            I absolutely would have had I known it an option.

            “Sadie,” Bast chided. “What are you doing with an imp? I thought Anubis was allowed to stay in the mortal world to be your tomcat.”

            Leo leaned slightly over my shoulder as much as the short demigod could. He waved a hand, making me wonder how we were staying stable on Felix. “Sup,” he greeted. “Don’t worry. I’m taken by a Titan sorceress. And Jason’s got a beauty queen as a girlfriend.”

            Leo must have pointed behind us.

            Jason grunted in irritation.

            Bast made a purring sound.

            This was getting off topic. “Bast,” I said, frowning. “Their home is in danger. It’s like Brooklyn House, but for Greek demigods, a place called Camp Half-Blood.”

            “Chiron’s camp for heroes,” Bast said. She didn’t sound happy about it or particularly surprised. These gods had an annoying knack of leaving out vital information.

            “Right, well that saves a lot of time. I don’t suppose that couldn’t have come with the How to be a Magician pamphlet? That Egyptian mythology is real, as is Greek, right beside the column on the existence of monsters and SpongeBob Bloody SquarePants.” I couldn’t help the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

            “Sadie.” I could hear her frown. “You know why we couldn’t tell you… What god is this SquarePants?”

            I ignored that last bit.

            Bast was right, of course. As per my usual brilliant nature, I handled the existence of the Greek gods with fair ease when I discovered them. Why not? At least the Greeks weren’t animal headed. But, had I found out at the same time as Egyptian mythology, when my father was locked in a sarcophagus by a god of chaos…

            Leo was saying, “—and he hangs out with a starfish—”

            I cut into Leo’s explanation of sea sponges. “Location,” I demanded from the boys.

            Jason, though sounding wary, said, “Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141, Long Island. Only for assistance, of course.”

            “Thanks, Superman,” I said before returning my attention back to the rippling bowl. “They’re going to be under some heavy battery and I’m not sure the three of us—”

            The dragon dipped slightly and my bowl almost toppled. Leo managed to balance it with little more than a few milliliters of liquid spilling out.

            “Bad manners,” Leo said. “Felix has feelings too you know.”

            I sighed. “Four of us will make it back before sundown, when they’ll be invaded. I was going to see if Bes—or, I guess you—could do me a favor and check up on the camp around then. You know, just to see if there are any campers on fire or anything.”

            “Would you like me to set them on fire if they aren’t?” she asked.

            “Erm, no. Not setting them on fire would be good. Helping them would be best.”

            I could feel Leo’s discomfort and Jason’s regret at giving her the address.

            “Yea, misbehaving Egyptian gods will be attacked by harpies,” Leo said to Bast. In my ear, he whispered, “Is your talking bowl really going to help everyone back at camp? Or are we going to have a psycho cat lady on the loose?”

            I elbowed him.

            “Mmmm, harpies,” Bast said. I could tell she was licking her lips. “I haven’t eaten a harpy since—well, never mind that now. We’re really not supposed leave the Duat currently, especially not to infiltrate—”

            “Help.”

            “—a Greek encampment. Egyptians and Greeks haven’t always gotten along. It would be obvious if I left with Muffin and I’m not sure if I would be allowed inside unless invited, similar to Brooklyn House; however… if you could have a host waiting there to invite me in…”

            “Do you have any cats at camp?” I asked the two boys.

            I could feel Leo shrug. “Fresh out of cats.”

            “Right,” I said, “So we need to mail order a cat to the camp from one of the local farms. Shouldn’t be hard.”

            “Uh, I wouldn’t. Delivery guys tend to get lost,” Jason warned.

            I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Bes could transport into the mortal world so easily. I forgot Bast had more restrictions.

            Bast must have noticed my discouragement. “You must understand, Sadie. I want to help you and your friends. I always love a good battle, but I must be careful how I pussyfoot around Ra. I’ll keep my eyes and ears on Camp Half-Blood. If they’re in need and you get a cat on the premise, I’ll be sure to help.”

            Felix banked hard on a current of wind. The bowl popped out of my hands and tumbled off the dragon’s back, continents spilling as it fell. I really hoped it would harmlessly hit the pavement instead of shattering on a pedestrian so the poor bloke would have to write Death By Flying Bowl on their tombstone.  

            “Pussyfoot?” Leo asked.

            “She chats like that. Meant to be completely unironic,” I said.

            “She’s not going to attack the camp, right?” Jason reaffirmed.

            If there was one thing I knew about my Muffin, it was that she’d do whatever she wanted. But Bast was a brave warrior and would always help a friend. “As long as Camp Half-Blood doesn’t attack her.”

            I suddenly wished I still had my scrying bowl to send a quick Excuse me. Percy, dear, could you be a good boy and not kill my cat?

            “So, I’m going to assume your communication device lacks any kind of circuits or wings..?” Leo asked, glancing where it fell.

            “No, we sort of do things old school and I forgot to make adjustments with shabti aviation abilities,” I said.

            “Ah, that’s cool. I dig antiques,” Leo said.

            Jason sighed.

            After that, we spent the rest of the trip explaining the whole Egyptian Magician thing. I’d say that they handled it well. No one jumped screaming off the dragon (not yet anyway) and none of their heads exploded quite the way Annabeth’s did.

            [Jack says this is an amusing metaphor because of what happened to Annabeth’s mother. What—did her head explode? Her grandfather’s head? Huh, and I thought baboons playing basketball was odd.][3]

            When the streets below became overcrowded with cars and pavement, I became nostalgic for London and Brooklyn House. Sure: a camp in the middle of an abandoned farm lot with an old man supervising a bunch of preteens without any real restrictions was grand and all, but I rather found myself—shock and abhor—missing the madness of the Nomes in comparison to the rural countryside.  

            Once we were far enough into the city, but still a few minutes walk from the Cathedral, Sam’s taxi-van pulled off to the side of the road, earning a cacophony of honks that added to New York’s midday din. For a moment, I feared we’d mixed it up with the other cabbie-vans and some poor bloke was panicking about a dark shadow following him since Long Island.

            Then, Merry poked out of the van to wave us on. Or, at this distance, she might have been doing the hokey-pokey. Jason and Leo said either was equally possibly with the daughter of Dionysus.

            With little more than a wave back, we continued forward. Leo and Jason’s attitudes turned grim and I had to wonder what her part of the plan was, considering it was just her and a mortal. (Though, mortals can be quite useful. My mates, Emma and Liz, are quick to help in a fight.)

            The rest of our flight to Cleopatra’s Needle was uneventful. Cleopatra’s Needle is an Egyptian obelisk displayed in Central Park. Compared to all the other tall buildings in the area, this ancient monument looked pathetic and small, though Carter blabs on that it was quite impressive to the ancient Egyptians. Since this is a set of three and one is in London and one is in Paris, it is an excellent anchor point for holiday.

            Each time I go there, I can’t help but think about how my mother died freeing Bast from her imprisonment. Cheerful thought.

            “You blokes ready?” Sadie asked.

            I have to give Commander Leo and Jason credit: they jumped into a winding sand vortex with minimal fuss.

            Unfortunately, Felix did not.

            Leo later explained that the sand would have destroyed her gears and pistons and bla-bla-bla-robot parts. At the time, he was too busy cursing and shrieking in Spanish and Greek—Spreek? Granish? Augh, no easy combo for those two unless you’re a griffin or a farmer—as we spit onto the other side of a portal, dragonless.

            Had Jason not acted immediately, we likely would have broken a few bones. Not because I dropped us several meters up—no, I was paying better attention this time, despite being bucked from an unruly giant lizard into a sand vortex. We only fell about two meters. However, instead of landing on soft sand, we crashed onto pavement.

            A gentle burst of wind prevented us from making the impact terminal.

            Leo still provided some elegant Hispanic poetry about our descent before snapping, “Listen, Combat Hermione, you cannot force us to join the skydive party without a warning.”

            Jason asked the more relevant question while glancing around the desert of Phoenix. “How is there… a pyramid here?”

            I couldn’t answer either of them initially. Hopping up from 4 degrees Celsius to 20 degrees and going from the shadowed gloom of New York to the blinding radiance of a mid-day desert can completely bollix your head. I blinked a few times before I could sort out my surroundings.

            About a meter behind us, there was a small, white pyramid, only six meters tall, but a pyramid nonetheless. The rocky geographic formation behind the pyramid looked like a glorious pile of camel dung. Really, if you’re going to build a place of rest, at least assure the surrounding landscape is pleasant, like by a lovely resort or beautiful river, not something that looks like the collateral from Hindenburg (Walt’s amulet camel) after sneaking 17,000 burgers.

            On the other side, the desert expanded into red nothingness with blots of stubborn shrubbery.

            There was a wrought iron fence encasing the pyramid. A black, engraved door to the pyramid read The Entombment of George W. P. Hunt and some other nonsense about pioneers and statesmen.

            “A popular politician decided he wanted to bury his wife Egyptian-style and followed suit after,” I explained, struggling to keep the grin off my face. I loved crazy Americans.

            “And… that works? As an official portal?” Jason asked.

            Before I could educate Jason and Leo on the intricacies of how a pyramid derives its power from its shape, the quest took a turn exactly as you’d expect it to: poorly.

            “TAS!”

            That was one of my least favorite words to hear someone else say.

            As ribbon snaked around my mouth, I muffled out a scream, but my spell didn’t take effect. A red hieroglyph burned above me in the air. The ribbon expanded, squishing my wand and staff against my body until I was nothing more than a Sadie cocoon that flopped back onto the pavement.

            Jason reached for the gladius at his side only to have a bolt of red lightning smash right into his chest.

            The son of Jupiter blasted backwards, through the iron gate, and into the desert landscape beyond the pyramid, like a little shooting star across a red cosmos.

            I’m not sure what I was expecting from him. I suppose I thought he could use the lightning to reenergize or something, and laugh it off like a cocky superhero, and not get eviscerated in the first few seconds of combat.

            A half a second later, while Leo withdrew a sledgehammer from his tool belt, a bolt nailed Leo. Not a lightning bolt. Your typical, pointy, stabby kind.

            Leo yelled and clutched at a wooden shaft now sticking out of his shoulder. A split second later, the bolt ignited into a miniature explosion of flames.

            One thing was clear: someone knew we were coming.

            When I looked to the origin of the spell, a mirage shifted in the corner of the fence. Red sand trickled to the pavement, melting away an illusion to reveal a girl—not much older than me—standing there. In one hand, she held an Egyptian-style axe pointed to where Jason had been blasted into next week. The other held a crossbow—now reloaded—aimed at Leo.

            Although he’d patted out the flames on his shoulder, blood spilled between Leo fingers where he gripped his smoldering shirt. Demigod Leo: Fireproof. Not piercing proof.

            “Watch it, lady!” he snarled.

            Admittedly, I liked our enemy’s style far more than our previous villain, Setne. Setne just looked like a creep. This person—she—or he? I wasn’t quite sure now—wore a button down burgundy shirt with a punk style, sleeveless vest overtop. The shirt sleeves were rolled up to show off the glint of golden, hieroglyph engraved bangles, and likely because it was bloody hot. Her hair poofed out into a blue-streaked mohawk.

            [No, Carter, I didn’t miss the irony that she had the color of Ma’at and Order in her hair and I had a shade of Chaos.]

            The magician glowered at Leo. “Holy Hun-Batz. It’s ‘sir’ to you,” he said in a voice that could be that of a preteen boy or girl with a lower pitch.

            When his gaze turned to me, the malice in those dark, kohl-encircled eyes looked familiar. “Sadie Kane.” This time, a second voice, the deep thrum of a man’s voice, could be heard enlaced with the first. “Long time no see.”

Footnotes:

[1] Mel Betacomment: “So, what you’re saying is, Riordan has Merry Poppins purses everywhere?”

Jack’s response, “Yea. Didn’t you know she was a magician?”

[2] Judging by Nico….

Though Anubis and Walt certainly got over each other real fast. Anyone else find that a tad bit weird?

[3] So, it got too wordy for the sentence, but her original comparison was: “And I thought it was weird that Isis had to temporarily resurrect her dead husband and imbue him with a magical golden phallus to conceive Horace. Yes. It is as gross as it sounds. Osiris was cut into tiny bits and she was able to find all of him except—er—It was a rubbish time for everyone and she had to improvise to defeat Set. Things you don’t want to remember when you meld heads with someone”

Jack the author’s comment: Yes, this is a real thing. Osiris, in mythology, has a gold dick.