𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

chapter twenty-two. ☄︎. *. ⋆

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DINNER AT CAMP HALF-BLOOD is always an experience. There was always something happening during it; a monster attack, a fight between cabins, a surprise appearance of a god (that had actually happened on one of my first nights at camp; you can always count on Aphrodite to appear without an invitation nor a warning), you get the gist. Crazy things happen at camp meals.

     But none as crazy as Chiron leaving and a new camp director taking over for him.

From the hasty explanation Chiron had tried to give me, Percy, and Annabeth before dinner, Dionysus had needed somebody to blame for the poisoning of Thalia's tree and Chiron was the safest bet for pointing fingers—seeing as he was Kronos's son, and all.

     Yeah, whatever, the friendly centaur that had trained me since I was eleven was getting kicked out of camp. Gods, I was beyond angry. Annabeth and Percy had to hold me back when I saw Dionysus. If they'd let go, I'm pretty sure I would have pummeled that old god into grape juice quicker than he could snap his fingers and turn me into a glass of red wine.

Annabeth was distraught. She was the only reason I didn't immediately punch Dionysus in the face when Percy let go of me; I was too busy wiping the tears off Annabeth's cheeks and letting her cry onto my shoulder. Then I realized how much I probably looked like Clarisse, and I quickly wiped the scowl from my face.

The cabins filed into their tables. Most of them gave passing glances to Annabeth, then whispered something to their brothers or sisters, except Athena's cabin, of whose head counselor, Malcom, came forward. He asked me if Annabeth was okay. I gave him a glare, hoping the message of obviously not, dummy came across. He nodded swiftly and shuffled back to his table.

Lee, Will, Michael, and a few of my other siblings nodded at me as they passed. Will stuck around for a minute to ask me what was going on. I bit my lip, about to tell him, when I caught sight of the two figures on the stage, waiting for our attention. My eyes narrowed.

Dionysus was wearing his usual getup–a leopard print Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and tennis shoes that looked like he had bought them on sale... twenty years ago. I glared at him. He gave me a nauseatingly sweet smile, then turned to address the sickly-looking man at his side.

"Care to introduce yourself?" he asked the man.

"I am Tantalus," the other man said, smiling coldly. He wore an orange jumpsuit, like that of a prisoner, with a patch on his shoulder that read 0001. He was pale and horribly thin. "On special assignment here until Lord Dionysus decides otherwise."

"Tantalus," Annabeth muttered. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but she'd stopped crying. "Hey, I know you—you're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment. The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

He sneered at her. "Congratulations on your scholarly observation, blondie. Now—" he looked at us distastefully "—listen up, you three; I don't want any problems at my camp."

"You already have problems at your camp," Percy argued, at the same time that I said, "What makes you think we'll cause problems?"

"Oh, go sit down," Dionysus said, rolling his eyes. "I believe that table is yours, Jackson. The one nobody wants to sit at? And you, Scott, you're at the one where you'll never be head counselor. Boo-hoo! Anniebell—"

"I'm already gone," Annabeth said over her shoulder, heading back to her table before Mr. D could chastise her.

Percy and I shared an enraged look. He nodded to Tyson and said, "Come on," then turned to walk off to his table.

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

"Him," Percy snapped. "His name is Tyson."

"He saved the camp," I argued. "Did you see the way he pounded those bulls? They would've burned down the whole place if he hadn't—!"

"And what a shame that would've been," sighed Tantalus.

I clenched my fists. One of the first rules you learn as a demigod is to never ever lose your temper around a figure of authority—especially if there's a god present. If I said exactly what I was thinking about Tantalus to his face, I'm pretty sure I would've earned myself a permanent spot in the Fields of Punishment. I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood. I didn't care. It was better than letting this Tantalus guy know he was getting under my skin.

When I trudged over to my table, Will had saved a spot for me on the end, next to him. I offered him the best smile I could manage. The moment I sat, my plate immediately filled with dinosaur chicken nuggets. I grimaced at it.

"O, Apollo," I muttered through grit teeth as I scraped a few nuggets into the fire pit, "accept my offering."

I sat back down at my seat. I was pretty positive that it couldn't get any worse, but then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow into the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.

"Yes, well," he said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches. I snickered; he shot me a glare.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

There was some halfhearted applause, led by Mr. D. I caught Percy's eyes from four tables over. He sent me a look that could kill. I nodded in stiff agreement, clenching my jaw. Tantalus was not good news, that much was for sure. I doubted he would even acknowledge the fact that Camp Half-Blood was on the brink of death, much less actually do anything about it.

"And now," Tantalus said, spreading his hands out, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Theodosia Scott have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here." He waved a hand toward Tyson.

I almost shot out of my seat and strangled the guy, but Will grabbed my wrist under the table. He shook his head when I sent him a look of disbelief. His message was clear: Not yet. Not here.

"Now, of course," Tantalus said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

I looked to Hermes cabin's table. Travis and Connor Stoll, the newly-appointed head counselors (since Luke.. well, you know), lowered their heads and became interested in the tablecloth. I couldn't blame them; their table was already stuffed full. Their cabin couldn't fit a six-foot-three Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where the beast should kenneled?"

I was furious. What I wanted to do was draw my knife and finally give Tantalus something to chew on—but when everyone gasped, I looked back to Tyson to see a glowing trident symbol hovering above his head.

Immediately, I turned to the Poseidon table to see Percy's jaw hanging open. He looked at me with wide green eyes. I shrugged helplessly.

There was a moment of awed silence. Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. I remember when Percy had been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt. But now, mostly everyone followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"