Extras - Chapter 4 (TDoA)

Bow and arrow set

Saxe knife

Throwing knife

Quotes From the Story
My strength was with the bow and arrow, and so fighting with a sword usually means a certain defeat for ol' me. But, good friend that he is, Milo informed me about the importance of close contact fighting and then gifted me on my thirteenth birthday a very special pair of knives: a heavy saxe knife and a short throwing knife. They were special in the way that they can be transformed into a pair of drumsticks for camouflage, and vice versa.

Extras - Chapter 10 (TDoA)

Frank Stinson's car

Quotes from the Story
Angela: "Does Frank own a sleek black Porsche?"

A Character Analysis: Frank Stinson

General
Frank Stinson's first appearance in The Daughter of Apollo is when he saves her from a Minotaur (August 1997; Riverside, California). He's the one who introduces Bella to the world of monsters, gods and quests, and becomes a close friend to her growing up. He is a son of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty, meaning he has better than average good looks. Skilled and suave, Frank's character is based from Barney Stinson from the hit TV show How I Met Your Mother. (If you're a follower of that show, then you'd know why I based Frank from Barney *wink*.)

Appearance
Frank, being the son of Aphrodite, has above average good looks. According to Bella, he is good looking enough to be approached by several modelling companies.

From the Story...Angela asked, "Does Frank own a sleek black Porsche?"
I sent her a baffled look. "Yes, but why are you asking?"
"And does he, by any chance, have charcoal black hair?"
"Personally I'd say it was ebony black, but sure, yes. How did you know?"
"Does he like wearing button up shirts and dress pants?"
"And Italian shoes," I added. "All the time. Why? Have you met him before?"
"Know him?" Angela gulped. "I think I just saw him." She raised her finger to point downwards towards the parking lot. And then I saw what she was seeing.
Frank, my absentee best friend, was sitting on the hood of his car, looking ill at ease as every pair of eyes in the sparsely populated parking lot (and its surrounding field) stared at him. Indeed he was dressed just as Angela described him, so he looked a few years older than his twenty years of age.

Personality
With the attentions he got from people growing up, Frank learned at an early age the perks of being handsome. While outwardly a confident ladies' man, Frank secretly harbours feelings for his best friend, Bella Swan. However, given the nature of the assignment Apollo had given him, he is careful to not jeopardise his friendship with Bella and he was sure that dating her would certainly do that.

The Daughter of Apollo - Chapter 14

The Daughter of Apollo

Chapter 14: Out With Your Secrets! Part I

Breakfast was uncomfortable, uneasy, awkward, plus any other synonyms a thesaurus can provide. The tension was high, and my body knew it because I could not steady my hand and every time I tried to take a sip of the orange juice, I managed to spill at ten percent of its contents all over the nightgown I was unfortunately wearing. Rachel, on the other hand, seemed to be faring much worse. She claimed to have been ravenous, but she barely touched her oatmeal and only nibbled on her French toast. Either she was too scared to eat, or Mrs. Cullen's oatmeal unpalatable.

I wouldn't know. I don't eat things that look like vomit, and oatmeal was what they used in movies to portray said bodily discharge. And really, it was disconcerting to shove gloopy white stuff into your mouth when six pairs of eyes in the form of Edward's family were 'discreetly' watching you.

The moment Rachel and I had declared that we were done eating, the ever hyperactive Alice grabbed both of our hands and led us to her room upstairs. When I asked her what she was planning on doing to us – after all, I was under the impression that we were supposed to discuss last night's events – she just assured me that the discussion will happen once we were decent.

"After all," she said, opening the door to which I presume was her bedroom, "we can't let you girls spill your deepest, darkest secrets wearing just nightgowns."

Rachel looked at me incredulously. "Is this chick for real?" she whispered to me.

"I think so, yeah…" I whispered back. I couldn't say anymore, seeing as Alice had pushed an extremely soft towel in my hands and ordered me to take a shower. Apparently, I smelled fruity. "Blame that on the OJ," I muttered, trudging towards Alice's personal bathroom. I stopped after a few steps though, to ask about underwear, but Alice seemed to anticipate my query and said that it was folded inside the towel.

I came out of the bathroom about half an hour later to a hilarious sight that threatened to replace Frank in a dress (don't ask).

"If you say anything, I swear on the River Styx that I will make your life miserable," threatened Rachel. She was wearing a silk green blouse tucked underneath a full skirt, and on her feet were long boots. Not only were they leather boots, but they were stiletto boots, too. The only consolation Rachel was that they weren't killer three inch heels. They were just killer two inch heels. Rachel looked like she belonged in an office as a secretary or something.

"I'm not gonna say anything," I said through stiff cheeks, a vain attempt to stifle my laughter. Never in my life have I seen Rachel wear a skirt, let alone anything as fine as silk. Yes, I was aware that her father was a rich businessman, but Rachel was not the type to flaunt her wealth.

"Yeah, right," she retorted. "I know you're thinking how ridiculous I look in this outfit. Just wait until Alice gets a hold of you. She's just out to give me some privacy when I was changing."

Oh, was Rachel wrong. When Alice came back into the room and saw me, there was no manic gleam in her eye. She just smiled at me in greeting and walked calmly towards the wardrobe on the right side of the room (for Alice had three, the third being an entrance to a walk-in closet). From there she took out a baggy pair of khaki trousers.

"Try this one for size," she said, tossing the pants to me.

I did not wait for her to change her mind. Throwing modesty and decorum out the window, I quickly discarded the towel that wrapped my body and inserted my two legs inside the khaki pants. It hung loosely on my hips, but I daren't tell Alice this in fear of her swapping it with a skirt or a dress.

"It looks good on you," commented the spiky-haired Cullen. "Here," she handed me a simple white shirt. "Wear that and then put your Nike shoes back on."

"What?" spluttered Rachel. "That's all she's wearing? No puffy skirt or glittery corset or stiletto heels? Damn, that is so unfair!"

"Oh, hush you," said Alice. "You look sophisticated. You'll thank me for that look later."

The three of us girls descended the stairs after a minute and a quick argument about apparel. Upon entering the living room, I felt all eyes on me – well, I was sure that some were looking at Alice and Rachel too, but Edward's gaze seemed to be from three people combined. He was staring unabashedly at the thin strip of midriff that was left bare by the shirt Alice gave me. Self-conscious, I tugged at the hem of my shirt. The action, along with the kick in the leg form Jasper, notified Edward that he was being rude.

Not that I minded, of course. For some reason, his undivided attention made me feel good. A girl needed assurance that her body was wanted every once in a while, after all.

"Good," said Rosalie once we were all seated. "Now we can start with the explanations. Care to enlighten us, Bella?"

I fidgeted with my fingers. "I don't know where to begin…"

"How about you start with the Minotaur?" Edward suggested. "Was that being we fought in the alleyway really the mythological creature? And how did you learn to fight like that?"

"Fight?" Jasper's eyes darted from Edward and me. "You didn't say anything about Bella fighting the creature, Edward."

"Of course I fought the Minotaur, Jasper!" I all but yelled, affronted that Jasper could say such a thing. Can't he imagine me holding up my own against a mighty Minotaur? Well, I'll show him… "Fighting monsters is what I do, Jasper. Ever since I was ten, my life revolved around monsters: they attack me, and in return, I fight them and I kill them."

"But how?" he asked. "You're just a fragile human!"

From beside me, Rachel whistled softly and muttered, "You should not have said that, pretty boy."

Fragile human, what's that supposed to mean? Jasper talks like he was not one. I had a feeling that Edward and his family were not mortal, but not human? That's a completely different thing entirely… Wait, did Rachel just say that Jasper was pretty? I understand where she was coming from, but really?
Shaking my head from my quickly drifting thoughts, I scowled at Jasper and assured him that "just because I come off as fragile, that does not mean I can't handle myself in a battle situation. I was trained by the best satyrs, centaurs and warriors from Camp Half-Blood! Just give me the right weapon and I can render you incapable of performing everyday routines." With a knowing smirk, I added, "I'm sure Alice would miss your company at night, so don't insult my capabilities again."

Alice's eyes widened at my insinuation. "How did you know?" she gasped.

I ignored her shock and focused on Emmett, who was on his side laughing at what I said. He was muttering over and over again about how Jasper got "owned by a human," once more solidifying my suspicions that the Cullens aren't what they seem.

"Okay, that's it!" Rosalie slammed her hands on the arms of the lounger she was sitting on and moved to stand up. Her tyrant self was resurfacing again. "I've had enough of this nonsense and – get your hands off me, Edward!"

"You're not hearing her out," said Edward, retrieving his hands from Rosalie's shoulder. "If you would just let her explain and you listen, then perhaps –"

"I'm not wasting my time on this drivel, Edward. What you saw last night must be wrong, there's no such thing as a Minotaur."

"Yes, there is, Rosalie!" Edward looked furious now. "I've seen one with my own eyes!"

"Oh, and I suppose you're willing to vouch for the satyrs and centaurs as well, are you? Half-human beings simply do not exist! Next thing you know, she'll be saying that mermaids and angels exist, too!"

"Actually," inserted Rachel unhelpfully, "Triton is a half-fish and half-man and he very much exist, so…"

"You're not helping, Rachel." I nudged her on the ribs. "Look, Rosalie, everyone, I don't know how to convince you all that beings such as satyrs and centaurs exist, but I promise you that what I'm saying is the truth. I've grew up with satyrs as my neighbors, and I've battled more than my fair share of that Minotaur." In an aside, I said to Rachel, "I swear, that thing keeps coming back to me like I'm its mother or something."

Rachel snorted. "You're not Pasiphaë, Bella, and Minos is not your husband."

I could not deliver my witty comeback of "that was just a joke," to Rachel because Rosalie called my name and asked that since I've claimed Greek mythological creatures exist, what about the Greek gods? Did they exist, too?

"Very much," I answered. "In fact, that camp I've mentioned? It's a camp fully devoted in training half-bloods, hence the name Camp Half-Blood. And half-bloods, before you ask, are basically just a term for demigods." At the stunned expression that everyone (apart from Rachel and me) was sporting, I added unnecessarily, "Yeah, by demigods, I mean the children of the gods."

"Children of the gods?" asked Esme in amazement. "Are you saying that…?"

"That the gods exist?" I elucidated for her. "Of course they do. They're not myths, you know. Far from it. As long as the Western civilization thrives, so will the gods. Western civilization is a living force, and the fire of that force is why they, the gods, are alive and messing with us poor mortals."

Loud thunder echoed in the skies, but I disregarded that warning and continued with my explanation.
"As you may know, Jasper," I said, glancing at him, "the fire of Western civilization began in Greece. The enduring influence of Ancient Greece shaped the modern world. When Greece fell, the fire simply moved to Rome."

"And the gods followed," said Jasper, his voice soft in awe. "When Rome fell, Western civilization moved on to," he looked at me, "Germany, I suppose. France, Spain and England, too. Whichever country was the most powerful in history, the flame followed; Western civilization followed."

"Not exactly," I disagreed. "Western civilization can span over more than one country. The country where the flame burns the brightest is the country where the gods reside. Now, for example, the gods are living here in America. We're Western civilization."

Edward leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "So you're saying that the gods right now are in America."

I smiled smugly. "Got that hole in one."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the home of the gods Mount Olympus?"

If he thought that he could swipe my smug smile away with that question, boy was Edward wrong. "Yes, you're right. They do live in Mount Olympus. Not the mountain in Greece though. Like I said, they're living here in America now, so it's only common sense to think that Mount Olympus moved with them."

"But how is that possible?" asked Alice. "You can't move an entire mountain, ancient deity or not. And as far as I'm concerned, I haven't seen any mountains in the United States that resemble Mount Olympus at all, and I strongly doubt that the gods are residing in Mount McKinley."

"Obviously not," said Rachel. "Alaska's freaking cold. It's all ice and mountains and snow. The scenery might be nice, but I bet it's boring. No god or goddess would want to go there, let alone live there."
"So where are they, then?"

"New York, duh." Rachel rolled her eyes.

"That can't be right," exclaimed Alice. "There's no mountain in that area at all and it's a bustling city."

"Well, it's far from boring then, isn't it?" countered Rachel. "Besides, you're all thinking literally. The Mount Olympus we're talking about is not a mountain; it's the home of the gods. And since New York is pretty much the best ever city US ever had, the gods live there."

"And where could they be?" taunted Rosalie. "Like Alice said, it's a bustling city. I don't think ancient deities would live in a penthouse overlooking Central Park."

"That's because they have a better view than any well-placed penthouse," I said. "They live just above the Empire State building. 600th floor, to be exact. Before any of you say anything, let me remind you all that we're talking about the home of the gods. You can't be more powerful than that."

Laughter resounded in the room. Automatically, I glanced at Emmett, the last I've seen laughing, but he was not expressing his mirth. He was grinning, yes, but not laughing. Perplexed, I looked around the room. No one else was laughing.

"D'you guys hear that?" I asked, still looking around. Perhaps I missed someone out? Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, Alice… They weren't laughing. Neither were Esme and Esme. Rachel for sure was not laughing, and I certainly was not either.

"I hear it, too," said Jasper, and I was glad because that mean I wasn't going crazy. "Hold on, what's that?"

I followed Jasper's gaze and saw, in the corner east side of the room, a gradual brightening of light was slowly taking form. It looked like a man's form, but I couldn't be sure because the light was just too bright. I averted my eyes (advising everyone to so as well, just in case the brightness was what I thought it was) and observed, quite astonishingly, the Cullens shimmering like they just bathed in body glitter.

"Styx," I gulped when I saw Edward. I was reminded again at just how he can give Adonis a run for his money. His face was scrunched up in a grimace (from the bright light, I suppose), but that did not take away the perfection of his features. My eyes drank in his forehead, his knitted brows, his aristocratic nose, his juicy lips and those cheekbones of his that many would kill for. It was to die for – Edward was so handsome that he was to die for.

Gasping out "Styx," seemed to be an appropriate enough response.

Desire welled up in me, and I had to tear my eyes away before I launch myself at Edward like some sort of crazy, hormonal teenager. Eyes alternating from the open-mouthed Rachel and the scintillating Cullens, I was relieved to when something else demanded for my attention. Regrettably, that something else turned out to be Apollo. How did I know it was him despite his clearly altered appearance since the last time I saw him? I don't know. I just knew that the man – the god – I was facing now was the god of music.

"Lord Apollo," I breathed, hastily getting up on my feet. Once standing, I sank as gracefully as I could on one knee and bowed my head in reverence.

"Get up, child," he said. His tone was much deeper and much more authoritative to belong to a guy who looked no older than an eighteen year old. For really, Apollo was in the form of a sporty eighteen year old… and quite handsome too, if I might add.

I quickly got to my feet and, daringly, met the god's eyes, my own travelling from his loafers up until I reached his bright ones. "My lord," I said haltingly, "may I ask why – why are you here?"

Apollo smirked. "Other than to admire the beautiful women, you mean?" he asked, purposely giving Alice a once over. Jasper emitted a growl and draped an arm over the petite girl's shoulder, a show of possessiveness. Apollo's smirk grew into a grin. "I'm here because of many things, one being proof to your friends." His voice became grim at the mention of the Cullens.

"Proof, my Lord?"

"They're a stubborn lot," was all he said on that topic. "Another reason why I'm here is to remind my Oracle that her time is nearly done and still she has not yet delivered her message." Chancing a look behind me, I observed that Rachel was blushing at the mild reprimand. "As for my last and, in my opinion, most important reason… I've come to claim my daughter."

My head snapped to Apollo. "Excuse me?"

"You heard right, child." Apollo walked towards me and took hold of my shoulders. "You, Isabella Marie Swan, are my daughter." He pressed a fatherly kiss on my forehead. "Consider this an act of claim."

For proof of his words, I hesitantly raised my eyes to look up over my head. Sure enough, there was a hologram of the sun floating above me. Tears prickled my eyes and I let out a deep, shuddering breath. This was happening to me, I was finally being claimed! Beaming, I did the only thing I could possibly think of to express my joy.

I hugged Apollo.

The Daughter of Apollo - Chapter 13

The Daughter of Apollo

Chapter 13: When In Doubt, Eat Breakfast

I had a very, very strange dream that one of the Kindly Ones were after me - Alecto, to be more precise. In my dream, she had kidnapped Charlie. Also, a Minotaur was battling me in an alleyway and Edward Cullen, strangely enough, was helping me out. I know, weird. But hey, that's dreaming for you.

Oh yeah, and Rachel Elizabeth Dare was in Forks, too.

I let out a long yawn, tired as I was when I went to sleep last night. I tossed and turned, finding the perfect comfortable position to fall back to sleep again, but I couldn't seem to get it right. I reached behind me to grab one of my pillows. With a strong pull, I repositioned it in front of me and hugged it with both arms, burying my head into it. 'Now, that's the ticket...' I thought drowsily.

"Hey!" someone screamed. It came from beside me on the bed.

Wait a minute, on the bed? Beside me?

"What in Hades –?" I shot straight up and looked around me. The first thing I noticed was that I was not in my bedroom. I mean, since when did I have a four-poster bed complete with velvet hangings? Where was I, Hogwarts? The second thing I noticed was the fact that I was not alone in bed. Yeah, Rachel was in bed with me. We were both dressed in knee-length nightgowns, so it appeared that nothing untoward happened between us, which was a relief. How would I explain to my dad that I fell asleep in a foreign bed with the Oracle of Delphi?

"Rachel," I gasped. "Rachel, you're here." I gaped at the disgruntled redhead.

"Yes, Bella," she said, glaring. "I'm here. Now can you please give me back my pillow? Who knew half-bloods could be such a pillow hog?" She tugged at the blanket as well. "And cover hogs, too."

I didn't have it in me to bicker with Rachel this early in the morning. Besides, what she said was true. I was a cover hog. Maybe that's because I was used to sleeping alone? Who placed Rachel and me in the same bed, anyway? Must've been a cynic or something.

"Hold up a second," I said to Rachel before she went back to sleep. "If you're here, that means my dream, the one with Alecto and the Minotaur and Edward... that all happened?"

Rachel chewed on her bottom lip as she got up, leaning her weight on both her elbows. She was wide awake now. "It was no dream, Bella. You did black out though when you and your friend Edward got back to the car, so that might explain why you think last night didn't happen. But, I'm afraid it's all true."

"And Charlie?" I asked.

"Don't worry; he's safe in the Underworld. Like I said before, Hades is just using him as bait. He wants to meet you."

"Why?" I collapsed back on the bed, my hands to my face. "I'm just a completely nondescript girl with no discernible way of standing out," I said, quoting Aphrodite. I peeked through my fingers to look at Rachel. "Why would he want to meet me? And why can't he just come down here instead of kidnapping Charlie? It saves us all the trouble."

Rachel's eyes glanced heavenwards as she rolled out of bed. "Hades is a god, Bella. He's too laz – I'm mean, he's too busy doing his godly duties in the Underworld to come up here and visit a half-blood, even if you are mentioned in a prophecy that could mean the very downfall of the Olympians."

Rachel moved to put on a dressing gown, but neither of her arms made it through because I, quick as a flash, was right behind her and grabbed it out of her reach. "What do you mean I was mentioned in a prophecy that could mean the very downfall of the Olympians?" I asked shrilly. "Is this why all everyone's been hounding me the past few days? First it was Aphrodite and Ares, and then Apollo... Who next? Artemis? Athena?"

"They're not going after you in alphabetical order, Bella. If that was the case, then Apollo would be at the top of the list and –"

I shook Rachel by the shoulders. "But he was the first! I mean, when I met him in Seattle, I found out that he had been spying on my through Frank for the past seven years and... Wait, how is Frank, by the way?"

"He's fine." Rachel shrugged off my hands. "Dr. Cullen took care of him last night. Last time I checked, they were both in hospital. I'm hungry," she said, taking the dressing gown back from me. "What say you to a round of breakfast, Bella?" She was out the door before I could gather my wits about me.

"Wait," I called after her. "We're not done talking about this 'prophecy' yet." I caught up to Rachel on the stairs. "And where are we, anyway?" I asked, glancing confusedly at the practically wall-sized decoration that was a million or so graduation caps. Well, I might be exaggerating a little bit, but whoa. Who was this family and how come they've got that much?

"Oh, c'mon, Bella," said Rachel, grinning. "Use your head, why don't you. Where else could we be? It's certainly not Camp Half-Blood. The Camp wouldn't be caught dead with those masks on its walls. They're freaky, I tell you."

I followed Rachel's line of sight and saw a couple of rows of wooden masks. I wasn't certain as to what culture they were from, but they weren't certainly as freaky as some of the Greek monsters I've encountered. I told Rachel so and she just laughed and nodded her agreement. We talked idly about some of the monsters we've met; she even went as far as talking about her adventures with Percy Jackson, recounting the time when she met Percy for the second time in a freshman orientation where demon cheerleaders were involved, and cheerleaders just as they are were terrible enough to begin with.

When we reached the ground floor (and the climax of Rachel's story), Rachel stopped walking all of a sudden, making me bump into her.

"You go in first," she said, gesturing to the entrance where I was sure the living room was located. By now I knew that we were in Edward's house.

"What, why me? You're right by the entrance. You go." I had no idea what she was worked out about, but clearly Rachel was scared. Still, it does not change the fact that she only needed to take one step around the corner and she was in the next room.

"But the Cullens know you," she insisted. "I think it would be better if they saw you first."

"That's a moot argument, Rachel. The Cullens saw you last night when we arrived. I was asleep, if I recall correctly, so I think it would be better if you go in first." Despite the straight to the point way of how I delivered my argument, I wasn't able to control the blush that spread on my cheeks. That must have been one great first impression for Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, meeting them for the first time while fast asleep.

"Now, hold your horses for a second, Bella," said Rachel, pointing her index finger at me.

"No, you hold your horses, Rachel," I said, copying her finger waggling. "Why are you suddenly to afraid to walk into a room...?" I trailed off when one of the Cullens appeared on the doorway. By the way he was grinning at both Rachel and I, he had overheard our argument.

"Hi, uh, Emmett," I greeted lamely, surreptitiously curling my finger back. Now I see why Rachel was so reluctant in taking that step forward. I would be too, if Emmett was there to greet me on the other side. He was taller than either of us girls, and definitely more muscular and more powerful strength-wise.

And he had this manic gleam in his eyes that was magnified when he said, "Hello, ladies. I trust the two of you had a pleasant sleep?"

"As pleasant as it could be despite the circumstances," I answered. "We, uh, we're thankful, Rachel and I, that you guys took us in last night. I hope your parents didn't ask too many questions as to why we had to crash here."

"Oh, Carlisle and Esme didn't ask too many questions," said Rosalie, appearing behind her boyfriend. "It's Edward you have to worry about. He's gotten himself convinced that a," she chanced a glance to the side, telling me that someone I couldn't see was listening in on the conversation, "Minotaur… attacked you and him last night in an alleyway. Care to explain that?"

Seeing Rosalie standing like that, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed like she was reprimanding a child... it looked strangely familiar to me. Like déjà vu or something. I knew I should be thinking of a way to discourage Rosalie, and Emmett and Edward for that matter, from questioning about last night, but my mind was racing, trying to find a reason why Rosalie behaving like a tyrant was so familiar.

Rosalie. Tyrant. Rosalie the tyrant. I remember when I was around ten or eleven, I had ran away from Renee and found myself for the very first time in an alleyway because (I didn't know it then) a hellhound was after me. Someone found me behind a dumpster and brought me all the way to his home, and I remember waking up to a beautiful, golden-haired woman looking down on me. Her voice was angelic, so I had dubbed her Rosalie the angel. Her alter ego was Rosalie the tyrant.

I eyed the Rosalie in front of me now, ignoring Rachel's attempts to make me soften my look and say something. "Stop looking at her like that. Say something, Bella," she was saying, but none of it was processing in my mind because – well, because the Rosalie I knew seven years ago was the exact split image of the Rosalie standing right in front of me, down to the long blonde hair, topaz eyes and everything.

But that can't be. Rosalie Hale was only a year older than me. If she was the same person as the one that I met when I was ten, she must be at least in her early thirties by now. The resemblance was uncanny, however. And if Rosalie of then was the Rosalie of now, then that might explain her puzzling greeting to me way back when in the cafeteria.

"It's nice to see you, Bella," she had said. She didn't say it's a pleasure to meet you or you must be the Bella Jasper has been raving about. She said it's nice to see you, as if she had met me before. Which, if my theory was correct, meant that she had.

"Bella, stop gaping like Eros struck you and say something!" Rachel yelled in my ear. I suppose she had reached her patience limit.

"Er," I said, shaking my head to clear the resounding hums Rachel had left with her yell.

"I don't think 'er' is going to cut it, Bella," said Rachel, clearly mad. "This is not the time for you to give in to your ADHD and space out."

I glared at her, annoyed for the yell and the ADHD comment. "It's heightened alertness, remember? Anyway, I was not spacing out. I was thinking about something, if you must know."

"Thinking about what?" chorused Emmett and Rosalie. They looked at each other and broke into smiles. "I hope it's an explanation for last night," the latter continued.

My face lit up as an idea to prove my theory just popped into my head. I couldn't contain the smile that played on my lips as I asked, "Hey, Rosalie, am I irritating you?" She looked at me warily before answering that yes, I was irritating her a little bit. "Then don't you feel like stamping your foot and getting Carlisle?"

"Why would I –?" she began to ask, but then she stopped and her features cleared to not show anything. "You know. How?"

"I remember," I said simply, shrugging. "It took me a while, but... here we are."

"I think," said Edward, stepping away from his hiding spot behind the wall, "that explanations are in order."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Tired of eavesdropping now, are you?" Smiling sheepishly, he bowed his head and looked at me through his lashes. "Still," I said, eyes not wavering from Edward's, "I think breakfast should come first." I nudged the redhead by my side. "Rachel's starving."

She barked a laugh and muttered, "Look who's talking." And then we all adjourned to the dining room, with Rosalie taking the lead.

The Daughter of Apollo - Chapter 12

The Daughter of Apollo

Chapter 12: Showing Edward How To Fight Monsters

Most people my age would usually spend their nights lounging about the house, trying to forget the worries that were school, teachers and homework. They'd spend the early hours of the evening with their family, having dinner and spending quality time and as the hours passed by, they'd focus on the schoolwork that really needed to be done - or just ignore it some more and talk with friends over the phone.

That would be the normal night for a normal teen.

As it were, I was no normal teen and this was no normal night. And it wasn't like my day started out normally either (well, it did but it turned into one wild afternoon). I skipped school to hang out with my best friend, found out that our seven years of friendship was fake, ran away from a god and pissed off his family, killed a man.. and to top it all off, my father was just kidnapped by a Fury. And to make matters worse, the Oracle of Delphi was glaring contemptuously at Frank Stinson.

Yes, everything was just peachy. I wonder what Frank did to get on Rachel's bad side.

"You know," I gasped as I heaved Frank's limp body towards my Chevy truck, "you could actually take a break from glaring at him and help me out instead. Frank's not going to move himself."

Chastised, Rachel blushed brightly (a trait we seem to share) and hurriedly offered to lift Frank's feet; she hid her discomfort quite well, in my opinion. Together we managed to settle Frank into a comfortable looking position on the back. By just one look at him, I could tell thau was severely injured. Surely, his arm wasn't supposed to stick out like that.

Rachel volunteered to stay in the back with him, leaving me to drive around to get help. Though I didn't know where it was situated, the town hospital was our best bet. I could consider asking Angela for directions, but I didn't know where she lived either. And so I just drove around the empty town, following the gibberish signs for directions towards the hospital. We halted every now and gain as my jumping feet accidentally pressed on the brakes.

Curse my ancient Greek inclined brain and my battle ready energy.

I heard knocking on the glass behind me, and so I slowed down and twisted to see what Rachel was up to. She had a frantic look on her face. Frowning, I stopped the truck altogether and climbed out. Upon reaching her on the back, she swiftly explained to me that Frank was slipping in and out of consciousness.

"He just woke up and mumbled some rubbish," she said. "And look," she pointed at a red blotch on Frank's shirt that I had initially dismissed as a design due to the lack of light, "he's bleeding even worse now."

I stamped down on my growing concern for my long time friend and tried to keep on a cool head. "We need something to staunch the flow," I said, meanwhile positioning my foot securely on the back tire and hauling myself inside the truck. "Do you have a scarf or a handkerchief?"

Rachel glared at me. "Do I look like I have a scarf on me right now? I'm shivering for all I'm worth!"
I glared at her, too. She was not making this any easier. "You're just shaking from the adrenaline rush," - I didn't know if that was true or not - "but still we have graver matters to worry about. Frank may or may not die tonight, depending on how fast we can get him help, and no one else is going to die tonight."

Rachel ignored my last statement. She wouldn't understand anyway. "How about we take him to the hospital?" she suggested.

"That's what I've been trying to do!"

"Really? You looked like you were just driving around in circles, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't ask you!" I huffed and busied myself in ripping my pajama sleeve off, my hands shaking. It wasn't long enough to wrap around Frank's trip waist, but if I tied it with my other sleeve, it would do. Glancing at Rachel briefly as she helped me dress Frank's wound, I felt guilty for shouting at her. I sighed softly and muttered an apology.

"That's okay," she said in the same tone as I. "I forgot how difficult it is to be a half-blood, what with the dyslexia and the ADHD."

"Hey," I nudged her gently on the shoulder, "my brain is hard-wired for reading Ancient Greek and I've heightened alertness to keep me ready for battle. It's not dyslexia or ADHD, as I'm sure you are perfectly aware."

Rachel just snorted in response. I would've laughed as well, but then a commotion from further down the road caught my eye. The streetlights were dim in this area, but I recognized it as the street where the Thriftway was located. Right beside it was The Lodge, a restaurant that Charlie and I frequent in, and a sporting goods store was on the other side. They were all closed due to the late hour.

"What's that?" I asked automatically, quickly finishing Frank using the makeshift bandage.

"What's what?" parroted Rachel. She tiwsted and turned to see where I was looking at, but her baffled face told me that she wasn't seeing anything. Still, I was certain that I saw something from that general area so, with a mumbled "be right back," I jumped off the truck and ran towards where I saw the commotion.

The place was eerily silent when I came to it. I stood there, in the middle of the road, my senses heightened and my body tensed for sudden movement. It was then I realized that I more or less have just walked into a trap, what with me in clear view of any attacker and with no place to hide behind. There was a trash can a few steps back, but I strongly doubt I can use that to my advantage.

A scuffle of hooves and smothered growls caught my attention, and I pivoted on my foot to face the alleyway between The Lodge and Thriftway. Instinctively I took a step forward to investigate, but then I thought about my previous track record with alleyways. There could be a hellhound in there and this time, Frank won't be able to save me.

'Snap out of it, Bella,' a voice in my head chided. 'You're strong and courageous in your own right. You don't need someone like Frank to kick a monster's butt for you.'

Yeah, but it would be wonderful if I had help.

I took a deep breath as I steeled myself. I have to do this. I mean, a monster wasn't ensured to be the welcoming committee. It could just be a stray dog or something, battling with another stray dog for... a bone. Oh, who was I kidding? Of course it was a monster? Why else would I be worked up like this? My instincts were telling me that a monster was in the near vicinity.

I stepped into the shadowed alleyway with the slightest hint of fear, my upper body poised to shoot an arrow at a moment's notice while my lower body was ready to dodge at the smallest movement of attack.

"Who's there?" I demanded huskily. "Show yourself or I'll shoot."

It was stupid of me to announce myself like that. I regret that now since something large, dark and hairy - not mention sharp, if the two horns were anything to go by - had smashed into me and caged me against the wall. Luckily, I was thin enough to not be pierced by either horns, but I was unable to move. Yes, I was very familiar with a Minotaur's horns, having battled with it (and the rest of the minotaur's body) back when I was still schooling in Sacagawea High.

The monster's fetid breath eveloped my entire body and it was all I could do to get enough breath to think properly - screaming would just get me nowhere.

"Bella!" Edward shouted. He was looking at me with abject horror. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" I repeated incredulously. "What are you doing here? Get away before you get hurt!"

Edward sent me a superior look. "Er," he said oh-so-eloquently, "I'm not the one caged by the half-bull creature."

I really did not appreciate his sarcasm. If he was insisting on staying, then the least he could do was help, assuming he was the one the Minotaur was battling with previously before I barged in. Some hero I was.

"The Minotaur took me by surprise," I told Edward. "So, a little help please?"

I didn't know what I was expecting from Edward. Any normal mortal would never be able to battle against a Minotaur unscathed. In fact, any normal mortal won't be able to see any kinds of monsters in the first place because of the Mist, so the point was moot. But Edward - dear, dear Edward - was smart. He threw a pretty large stone (as in boulder size) at the Minotaur. I briefly wondered where he got that might piece of rock.

The two brawling men collapsed on the ground with a loud thud, and I swear the pavement below them gave way.

Taking advantage of the monster's momentary distraction, I got to my handsand knees and searched half-blindedly for my bow. The quiver of arrows were still strapped to my back, and my muscles hurt from where it had been wedged between my back and the wall.

I felt the unmistakeable curve of the bow, and I cried with joy as I flinchingly stood to my fullest height. My joy was short-lived, however, when I realized that my precious bow was splintered into three parts. Only a thin thread of wood was holding it together.

A piercing scream of anger distrupted the staring contest tdward and the Minotaur were having. Really, I can't let them have all the fun.

'Damn Minotaur,' I thought furiously, 'who gives it the right to destroy my bow?' Feeling righteous rage well up inside me, I reminded myself that I was not a cowardly person. I was a half-blood, a demigod, a hero. And if you could describe a hero with just one word, that would be brave. Daring. Courageous.

Grabbing hold of my drumsticks, I clicked them together and in an instant, two knives were in my hands instead of the musical apparatus. I reached behind me and fingered an arrow. "You have messed with the wrong demigoddess, Minotaur," I hissed before throwing a well-aimed arrow. It pierced the monster's brawny forearm.

That was when it came charging.

"Oh, Styx," I cursed. I raised my two knives in a battle pose, my knees bent and my legs tight in suspense, ready to jump out of the way when the half-man, half-bull creature was near enough. I counted to three. "One..." The Minotaur came running. "Two..." The space between us was lessening considerably. "Three!" I jumped out of the way, sticking both of my knives out to pierce its body as I did so.

I had drawn blood, and it spattered all over me. It soaked my hands, the sleeves of my clothes, my face and my hair. The Minotaur had yelped loudly, uttering a guttural cry. I did too, when the force of its tackle vibrated to up my arm. But I couldn't let myself think of the pain. I had a battle to win. This was not the first time I've battled a Minotaur and it would not be my last. There was still Aphrodite's words to consider; I still needed to find my Mr. Right, to start out my legendary love story and meet my father when he demands me to stop dating the guy. I still had a lot to live for.

I positioned myself again to meet the Minotaur's tackle. I waited five seconds before it came rushing to me again. This time, I was both ready and dreading the arrival, knowing that with the force the bull was going at, another collision might rip my arms out of its sockets. 'And I couldn't live without my arms,' I thougth wildly. 'How am I supposed to eat? To write? To press the button of my stereo?'

It turned out that my worries were groundless, seeing as Edward chose this moment gain my attention. And the manner that he did it was either incredibly foolish or incredibly brave. Either way, I found it hot. Seeing Edward Cullen meet the Minotaur halfway and push it to the ground in an immense heap of muscles and brawn? To witness him battle with it, in the process showcasing his incredible speed and strength?

Yes, very hot indeed.

My knives fell slack in my grip. Since when was a mortal that strong? Hold up a moment - was Edward even a mortal? He was able to handle celestial bronze after all, and he could see monsters. Plus, the strength and speed he clearly had was more than double than the strongest human alive can ever achieve. A worrisome thought wandered into my mind: What was Edward? Was this the secret he and his family were hiding? Were they...monsters of some kind?

"Edward?" I gasped. It was a thoughtless move from me, since this managed to distract Edward from the death grip he had on the Minotaur. The monster, taking advantage of the sudden looseness of the manacles around its neck and torso, stood up with grace that was uncharacteristic with its kind. Buckling, it threw Edward off, leaving him to lie defeated on the muddy ground. He was covered in blood, I saw that much, but I wasn't sure if it was his or the Minotaur's.

Speaking of the Minotaur... The monster seeked me out and, seeing that I was standing virtually alone and in a defenseless position, came charging towards me - again.

I thought fast. With a heavy grunt, I threw my throwing knife at its chest. It became imbedded in its skin; it jutted out like a third horn, which was probably a bad thing since it was six, five, four feet away from me. Three, two, one... I scrambled out of the way with barely enough time to spare. Hurriedly getting back up to my feet, I gripped the hilt of my saxe knife with both hands and prepared to use it like a broadsword. Swordfighting was not one of my strengths, but a demigod's gotta do what a demigod's gotta do.

The Minotaur came rushing towards me again and I grazed its torso as I jumped out of the way. I heard the monster yelp out again when Edward tackled it to the ground once more. Using the momentum of the saxe knife, I spun to pierce its back just in time before it was out of reach. More blood rushed out of the new wound, caoting it's furry back. It was the last straw for the monster because at that very moment, like crumbling sand, it disintegrated with the wind.

The first non-gibberish thought I had was to check up on Edward. I can't have another friend severely injured.

The second non-gibberish thought, once he had assured me that he was fine and injury free, was to ask for help regarding Frank.

The third was the fact that two monsters had been after me: the first one had kidnapped my father and the battle with the second was in plain view of a mortal - at least, I thought Edward was a mortal. I wasn't so sure of it now.

"Bella," he asked me as we walked together to my truck. He had told me that he had a basic knowledge of First Aid, what with his father being a doctor and all. I had slapped myself on the forehead for forgetting about Dr. Cullen. "What just happened back there?"

I shivered unconsciously. "Alleyways and I don't quite mix" was my dry reply, but when he sent me a pointed look that I just couldn't ignore, I sighed and told him that I'd explain everything to him once Frank was safe. Of course, he would have to explain some things to me as well, such as the fact he could see monsters despite the Mist.

Edward had looked at me strangely upon mentioning that, and it was with a resigned demeanor that he nodded his acquiesce. "Let me take you home," he said. "My dad can fix Frank up, and then you can tell me why you're up at this time of night, battling deformed animals wearing a ripped set of pajamas."
Right, Edward was such a comedian.

The Daughter of Apollo - Chapter 11

The Daughter of Apollo

Chapter 11: It Just Keeps Getting Better and Better

Five seconds outside in the rain and I was already soaked to the bone. The weight of the water pouring over me in torrents slowed me down, but I was able to run for about a mile or two before needing to sit down and rest. I plopped loudly on the wet pavement, groaning at the pounding pain in my legs from the rigorous exercise. Heaving heavy breaths, I studied my surroundings and realized that I was in an alleyway.

I paused. Finding myself in alleyways didn't bode well for me. The last time I was in an alleyway, a hellhound was chasing me. It would be just my luck to have one after me right now (I did just insult the gods, and that includes Hades), and this time, there would be no Frank to help me.

Thinking about the first time I met Frank enabled memories that I had painfully erased from my mind to be remembered. For instance, I remember now that it was after another second place win in a beauty pageant that I decided to run away. Renee and I were living in Riverside, California. I also remember falling asleep behind a dumpster, and then waking up in a warm house. There was a woman tending to me – I remember now. What was her name again? There was an 's' in it for sure, and her name was some kind of flower. Sunflower? Definitely not. Roxanne? No, she was a girl I knew from Sacagawea High. Rosalinda? Maybe.

"Well, well, well… What do we have here?"

I scrambled to my feet, fumbling already for my drumsticks. As the person approached, I raised the two wooden sticks and hit them together. Instantly, they transformed into knives, a saxe knife and a throwing knife. They glinted as the faraway streetlights shined on their metal bodies.

Now that the person was close enough for my eyes to see clearly (I mean, it was raining hard), I saw that it was a man who was in the alleyway with me. He was for definite taller than me, he was heavier in build and therefore much stronger. If I was not a trained half-blood then perhaps I would've collapsed in a puddle of fear, but since I was, I managed to rein in the aforementioned fear. It wasn't like this man was terrifying monster. He was just a random drunkard who may either rob me and beat me to death or rape me. Whichever it might be, I will go down fighting.

"My, aren't you one sweet looking girl," the man appraised, looking unabashedly at me from head to toe. I suppose it did not help matters that my soaked attire stuck to my body like a second skin.

"Stay away from me," I warned, body poised ready to throw my throwing knife. If he got any closer, then I'd go into another pose, ready to fight with the saxe knife first before the throwing knife.

"What are you going to do?" scoffed the man. "Toss that piece of metal at me and watch it fly over my head as I dodge? Don't kid yourself, girl. Just make things easier and let me have my fun. That way, maybe you can come out of this with just a few aches and pains and not a dire injury."

I spat at the man. It hit the target with force. "In your dreams, freak-o. You are not laying your filthy hands on me, so think again." And then I threw the knife, my aim true. Unfortunately, it had slipped my mind that celestial bronze wasn't meant to harm mortals, and so my knife just went past the man's torso and skidded on the pavement floor.

The man stood still for a moment; I suppose he was shocked at what just happened. I took advantage of this and, seeing a sodden plank of wood nearby, grabbed it and swung it at the man with all of my might. Again, my aim was true and the wooden plank collided with the side of the man's head. He let out a startled cry before slumping to the ground, hopefully unconscious and not dead.

"Oh gods," I gasped, my free hand flying to cover my open mouth. "Did I just do that?" The saxe knife transformed back into a drumstick, and that dropped to the ground with a loud clatter; I knelt on the ground and pocketed it. It was still raining. I watched in the dim lighting as the man's blood seeped and mixed with the rain water. The man didn't look like he was breathing. Even if you were unconscious, you were supposed to breathe, right? The man was lying still as a statue, and I instantly knew that I was in deep trouble.

I felt vomit rising in my throat.

"I just killed a man," I whispered, horrified at myself. I mean, I'd killed before, but those were monsters, not mortals. This was different – completely different. "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods… I killed. I freakin' killed someone."

"You might have, but think of the alternative." Someone else stepped into the alleyway. My eyes struggled to take in the silhouette, so there was a few seconds of dead time (pardon the pun) before I could make a coherent answer.

"Edward?" I threw his name into the air randomly. The figure in front of me certainly was the same height as Edward. He even has the same velvety voice. "Hey, is that you?" Blood rushed from my face for once when I realized that perhaps Edward saw me deliver that killing blow. "Did you see me... hit... that man?"

"I was following the man and saw him go in here," he said, not really answering my question as he came closer. I would've fled by now, the scene playing much too the same from the one with the drunkard, but I couldn't find it in myself to lift up my feet and run. I was ashamed to admit that I was entertaining the idea of killing Edward so that there would be no witnesses.

Oh gods, what kind of person was I turning into?

"Bella," Edward was close enough for me to see his face clearly, despite the rain. "The man was thinking vile thoughts about you, there's no doubt about it. If you didn't defend yourself, then you would most likely be dead by now."

I let out a humorless laugh. "Actually, I think I would be writhing in disgust underneath him and then I'd be dead."

Edward's lips thinned into a line. "Don't joke about that!" His growl sent my heart racing. Wait a minute… his growl?

"I'm sorry," I shook my head as I tried to stand up. "I didn't mean to upset you, I –"

"Hey," he smiled reassuringly as he offered his hand for me to take. "Shouldn't it be me who's supposed to say sorry? I did absolutely nothing to help you back here."

"You weren't here yet," I said, baffled. "How could you have helped then?"

He just shrugged and grasped my hand loosely, leading me out of the alleyway and into, surprisingly, his car. When I asked him what he was doing here in Seattle, he shrugged noncommittally and carried on driving – back to Forks presumably. The entirety of the ride so far consisted of utter silence and I was immensely glad for that. I had used the time to come to terms with my actions. By no means was I happy that I took that man's life, but what Edward said was correct. Killing the man was better than the alternative – and I didn't care how selfish that makes me sound.

I looked out the window and was glad to find that we were nearing the boundaries of Forks. I glanced at the car's digital clock, grimaced, and then sighed, accepting what I know would be the consequences of my actions. Charlie would be furious that I had skipped school, nearly gotten raped and then missing the ten o'clock curfew, not to mention the dinner Mrs. Cullen had prepared.

"Oh, Styx," I cursed under my breath. I completely forgot about that dinner! Cringing into the front passenger's seat, I addressed Edward and said contritely, "Please don't tell me your mother is upset that I missed the dinner she was planning."

The car turned a corner and I was caught off guard, nearly slamming into Edward.

"Sorry for that," he said, quickly adjusting the car. "Um, you're actually worried about that dinner? I would've thought that you'd be worried about…" I sent him a pointed look and he trailed off. "Right, well, Esme's upset but she understands that you haven't seen your friend in a long time."

The tentative, light atmosphere dissipated as quickly as it came. "Frank's not my friend," I said coldly. "Not anymore. And I suppose Angela told you about him?"

Edward shrugged his shoulder. "She kind of had to when your father questioned her after school. The principal, you see, called Chief Swan at the station once he became aware of your absence."

"Gods, that'd be embarrassing." I closed my eyes and leaned my head on the seat. "What happened next? Did Charlie send out a search party for me? Is that why you were in Seattle, though why would you end up in there in the first place?"

"Ah, no, your father did not send out a search party, all the same he was just about to when Alice convinced him not to bother. She told him that you were an intelligent girl and would do the right choice. Well that, along with the idea that you would have to do whatever he assigns for punishment."
I laughed bitterly. "I'd be immensely lucky to get a months' worth of grounding for what I did tonight. I deserve to be in jail or something."

"No!" The car swerved again and this time, I was practically on Edward's lap with the gear stick poking painfully at my abdomen. Really, for such a fancy car, the seatbelts barely work at all. "Don't beat yourself up for this, Bella! What you did was justified and I know you know it, so believe it."

I tactfully kept my mouth shut as I disentangled myself from him. It would do good to upset the driver of the car even further. Besides, what he said was true. I need to remind myself of that. Another round of silence settled in and this time, it wasn't broken until the car parked in front of Charlie's two-bedroom house. There was a small light shining from the living room; I knew Charlie was going to wait up on me. What kind of a father would he be if he didn't?

"This is goodbye then," I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the car door.

Edward quirked a crooked grin, which evidently, left me breathless. "Not a farewell," he said, quoting the conversation we had in the gym just two days ago, "but a brief separation. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow morning at school, right?"

"You're not just saying that so that you'll have an alibi like last time, are you?" I couldn't resist saying that, though I knew it was kind of vindictive of me.

Edward flinched but kept his crooked grin. "It wasn't meant to be an alibi the first time," he said. "And it's not an alibi now, either. I really would like to see you again tomorrow."

I nodded, knowing when to back down. "Hopefully in better circumstances, too."

Watching Edward drive away into the darkness of the night was probably the best thing that had happened in the last couple of hours. The way he drove was just so artistically graceful, I found it extremely difficult to look away and make my way inside the house – or, perhaps I was just reluctant to face Charlie and was looking for an excuse to stay outside as long as possible. Still, I wasn't ignorant enough to think that I could prolong the inevitable, so I slowly placed one foot in front of the other.

---

If this was any other night, soft classical music would be playing from my stereo as I ready myself for bed but, as it was, this was not any other night because the very moment I placed my foot on the front porch, the porch lights went on and Charlie had appeared in the doorway yelling for the entire neighborhood to hear. He had shouted and screamed and bellowed words I couldn't quite catch due to the loudness of his voice, but I pretty much got the gist of the reprimand.

I was not to leave school like that again.

I was not to climb into any boy's cars, even though I was acquainted with him.

I was not to go to Seattle without permission.

I was not to stay out past curfew.

Basically, I was not allowed to do anything I wanted without his permission until I was eighteen at the least, which was quite a bummer since with the life that I lead, I would eventually have to usurp Charlie's authority and leave school in the middle of classes, climb into a random boy's car, go to other places without permission (not just Seattle), and finally I would most likely be staying out past curfew. I really didn't want to disappoint him but hey, it can't be helped. Besides, I've already did.

"I thought Renee was just laying it on thick when she said you were too much to handle," he had said to me after I had bowed my head in half-hearted contrition. "I know what she's like, your mother. She likes to dramatize things to make her sound like the victim, but by God, Isabella Marie, if your little jaunt today was any indication, then perhaps I've she was understating things."

After that little speech, he had proceeded in taking away my stereo as punishment, which only goes to show how much he knew me. If Renee was in his place, then she would've sent me up to my room and ground me for the rest of my life or something. Charlie, on the other hand, knew me. He knew how to make himself heard when castigating teenagers and Styx was he good. Renee sure did know what she was doing when she sent me to her Chief of Police ex-husband.

I was climbing into my bed, already dressed and ready for a full night's sleep, when a loud commotion from downstairs sent a thrill of dread to course through my body. That didn't sound like Charlie bumping into some furniture and falling despite himself. If anything, it sounded like he was dodging something if his grunt of exertion was anything to go by.

Fearing the worst (perhaps Apollo was mad that I had walked out on him and had sent a monster to come after me), I kicked off the covers and grabbed wedged my drumsticks between the waistband of my pajamas. I then got to my hands and knees and reached for my suitcase under the bed. With my heart thudding loudly, I zipped the ragged thing open and took out the only weapon inside aside from the whip – Frank had a very disturbing sense of humor at times, which was made obvious when he gifted that whip to me on my fourteenth birthday; I hadn't used it even once.

"Alright," I murmured as I tightened the strap of my quiver around me. It was the hip and shoulder kind, which made it easy for mobility, and at the moment it was half filled with arrows. I've used the other half in some scrape that I can't even bother to recall right now.

I withdrew from my room with the effortlessness that came with sneaking around for the past seven years or so. I crept through the hallway and softly padded down the stairs, my bow already strung poised and an arrow nocked. It would fly across the room in a matter of seconds if I willed it.

The cold night air danced on my face, and I saw that the front door was open. Actually, it wasn't open. The front door itself was just gone, ripped out of its hinges.

"N-no," I heard Charlie's voice from the general direction of the kitchen, and so I changed course and headed there. As I got closer to the room, I could hear the heavy breathing of the monster I was sure was in there with him. "I don't kn-know where she is," he said shakily. "I've told you: she skipped school with a f-friend and never came back."

"Liar," fumed a distinctively female voice. "I know she was here. I saw her come in, saw you reprimand her like the delinquent she was. Unfortunately, I was too far away to see where she went after that. If your cooperate Mr. Police Chief, then maybe you can spare me the trouble of ripping this house to shreds."

Daring to peek into the room and take a glimpse at the scene, I quickly poked my head in and out again. With that short while, I saw that the intruder's back was facing me, which was a good thing otherwise I would be beheaded by now. The second thing I noticed was that Charlie was by the sink, standing to his full height and channeling all those years he had spent as a policeman. His eyes as widened at the sight of me, but never once did his expression of innocence falter.

"What do you want from my daughter?" asked Charlie, a sliver of fear seeping into his voice. "She's done nothing wrong, I assure you."

"She's don't nothing wrong," agreed the lady monster, "…yet. My master sent me to prevent her doing anything that might endanger – " She cleared her throat. "I really admire your courage and dedication to Isabella, Mr. Police Chief. One has to be blind to not see how much you love her, but what makes you think that she is your daughter?"

I flinched at the harshness of the delivery, and I vowed to myself that I would send this monster to the pits of the Underworld. Charlie wasn't meant to know that I was not his daughter. I loved him like a father anyway, so it was a pointless to tell him. He was the father I've never had.

"Not my daughter?" repeated Charlie in incredulity. "Of course she's my daughter! Who are you to barge into my house and –" The rest of his words died out, replaced by his chokes of air. "Let – me – go!"

I knew for sure that the monster had him on a choke hold. I had to move. I needed to do something before my father dies from asphyxiation. Monsters tend to be cruel to those who oppose them, and Charlie surely was an opposition. Taking a deep breath, I readied my bow and arrow again and stepped into the doorway. The arrow flew and imbedded itself in the monster's shoulder blade. She spun around and faced me, Charlie still in her hands – if you can call claws hands, because it was then that I saw what kind of monster it was that was attacking Charlie. It was a shriveled hag with bat wings – how could I have missed that? – and she had talons for fingers, yellow fangs for teeth and glowing barbecue coals for eyes.

In other words, a Fury was in the house. In the kitchen, to be more precise.

"Get your mangy claws off of him!" I cried as I nocked another arrow. One swipe of a sword would be enough to take care of a Fury, but since I didn't have a sword on me and it would be too much a hassle to activate my knives, I have to make do with arrows. It's not like they can't take care of me, since I trust them more that I could ever do knives.

"Why would I?" retorted the Fury. "He's a liar. He deserves a little pain."

An arrow pierced her wings together, which was a wondrous feat considering that I was not in the vantage point of doing so. That, and the fact that I didn't shoot said arrow.

The next couple of seconds were a blur to me. I was aware that someone had come to my defense, someone outside of the house with a set of arrows. I was also aware that the Fury – Alecto, I was sure her name was – can only be described as furious (pardon the pun) with the interloper. She screeched like a freaking banshee as she flew out the kitchen window like a torpedo, Charlie still writhing under her grip.

Hours later, when I thought back to that moment, I remember screaming for the Fury to give Charlie back. And if I was screaming bloody murder then, I was screaming like a banshee when Alecto disappeared into the night, driven away by my mysterious aide. She was sure to take him to Hades, but what for? She wanted me, not him.

"He's the bait," said a voice behind me. I jumped and turned around, a lone arrow raised in the air like a machete, ready to strike. I vaguely took in the fact that I was outside in the driveway, clad only in my pajamas. The cold hadn't sunk in yet.

"Who are you?" I asked warily. My mysterious savior was a girl no older than I was (she looked it, anyway), with frizzy red hair and green eyes so pretty that despite the situation, I was jealous. She was exotic; I wasn't. She looked like she came from a well to do family whereas at the moment I looked like a homeless person, dressed as I was in my worn out pajamas.

The girl smiled and raised her weapon-free hands in a sign of surrender. Instinctively, I raised the arrow higher. Don't get me wrong, I thank the girl for saving me, but I barely know her. The only thing I was sure of her was that she goes to Camp Half-Blood – she was wearing the Camp shirt, and how else could she have acquired that lovely bow and arrow set? I was eyeing it with envy.

"My name is Rachel," the girl said softly. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"

My jaw dropped in disbelief and I gaped at her shamelessly. Rachel? I knew of a few Rachels, but I only know of one who was both a Camper and a redhead. "Rachel," I breathed, "Rachel Elizabeth Dare, current Oracle of Delphi."

Rachel smiled awkwardly. "Rachel's just fine, if you please. Now, since that you are clearly not dying, what should I do about that jerk over there?" She jutted her thumb behind me and I turned around to see what she was talking about.

It took me a moment to realize who the crumpled form lying on the sidewalk was. Another moment passed and I had breath enough in me to yell out, "Frank!"

The Daughter of Apollo - Chapter 10

The Daughter of Apollo

Chapter 10: Enter Frank

My comeback after my near-death experience with Tyler's van was as normal as can be – that is, if you considered having teens your own age idol worship you for either coming out alive from a situation like being nearly run over, or at the fact that it was 'the' Edward Cullen who heroically saved me. Frankly, I've grown tired and weary with the large posse by the time lunchtime rolled around, so I was immensely glad that Angela kidnapped me and showed me her hiding place.

"I always go up here whenever I get frustrated by anyone or when I just need to be alone," she said as she spread a folded blanket over a cement bench, allowing the material to soak up the remnants of rain water. We were on the roof of the Science building, where some of the senior science students performed most of their plant-related experiments (or where the smokers go secretly to unwind, judging from the lingering scent of eau de smoke).

"Well, it's nice up here," I said, admiring the view of the school and the town from above. "I'd never thought that I'd find myself up on the roof of a school building after what happened back in Preston High."

Angela stifled her chuckles. "Let me guess: You got attacked and somehow you ended up on the roof fighting for your life?"

"With a throwing knife in one hand and a saxe knife in the other," I nodded my head passionately, the scene of the incident clear in my mind. "Since, you know, hauling to school a bag filled with a bow and a full set of arrows is a very stupid thing to do. I mean, they had metal detectors at the entrance doors! I couldn't sneak in anything worthwhile."

"Right, I see. Oh, and speaking of weapons," She rummaged in her bag and took out her lip balm. "I like the work done in yours." She nodded her head to the direction of my drumsticks, catching me by surprise to find out that she knew what they were in the first place. "So," she smiled, throwing me the lip balm, "I'd like to show you mine."

I caught the flying projectile deftly with one hand. Eyebrows furrowed with the lack of comprehension as to why I was holding lip balm – let's face it, I wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed – I wedged the thing between my forefinger and thumb and asked, "My lips are dry?"

Angela laughed. Heartily. "No, silly. That's what I want to show you! Open it and see what I mean."
I did as I was instructed and, a split second later, the small lip balm was replaced by one magnificent sword. Made from what else but celestial bronze, the double edged sword was amazingly lightweight and very, very sharp. The hilt was simply decorated, but engraved at the tip was an owl, the symbol of Angela's mother.

"It's breathtaking," I whispered, eyes wide, taking the entire thing in all at once. "I've never seen a sword as wonderfully made as this…" I backtracked, thinking of Frank's sword. "Well, it's the third best wonderfully made sword I've seen," I amended, thinking out loud.

"Whoa, hold up there, Swan," Angela cried. She was standing up with both hands on her hips. "What do you mean the third best sword?" She wrestled the weapon from my arms and, imagining an assailant (most likely a giant spider, her worst nightmare), performed some of the basic maneuvers. "This thing is my baby, how could you say that?"

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely, "but it's true." I shrugged helplessly, knowing how ridiculous one can get over their chosen weapon. I know I've made a fool of myself a couple of times when someone (cough*Frank*cough) made an offhand comment about my bow and arrow being shoddy or about my knives not being grandly decorated enough.

"Aww, c'mon," Angela pouted. "Who else has a better sword than me? Tell me your top two."
Reluctantly, I told the annoyed daughter of Athena my top two.

"Well, Riptide is pretty awesome," she allowed, "Percy's sword is historical. But this Frank, is he the same guy you told me about on your first day here?"

"Yes…" I said softly. "My best friend. He's older than me by a few years, but that doesn't necessarily mean he's brighter."

Turning around, I looked away from Angela and examined the many different colors of roses behind me. I gently caressed one a pale pink one with my third finger, feeling the velvety smoothness of it, reminding me of my last day with Frank. It was on the last day of summer just this year. We were going on our separate ways: Me back to Renee's place and him to his father's condominium in Chicago.

I wonder where Frank was now. He's probably studying very hard in whichever college Mr. Stinson had chosen for his only stepson – or most likely, skiving off of lessons as he wandered the busy streets of Chicago, hitting on one poor girl after the next. Being a son of Aphrodite, Frank was blessed with immense good looks and charm. It's a wonder that he hasn't been offered a modeling contract yet.

"I see that you miss him," came Angela's hushed voice. "He must be a very good friend to you."

I laughed a teary laugh. "Only if you call IM-ing your best friend only once after months' worth of absences a very good friend," I said wryly. "He attracts trouble wherever he goes and, when I'm close enough, I sometimes get dragged along with him. I don't mind fighting with him side by side, but it's when he's alone that I get worried. He never stops by or calls or IMs to tell me how he's doing, and I hate that."

"I'm sorry." Angela wrapped me into a warm hug. "I'm sure wherever he is, he's all right."

"Yeah…" I murmured. "You're right."

After a while, Angela let go of me. There was comfortable silence between us and I was enjoying myself with the peace when, out of the blue, Angela asked, "Does Frank own a sleek black Porsche?"

I sent her a baffled look. "Yes, but why are you asking?"

"And does he, by any chance, have charcoal black hair?"

"Personally I'd say it was ebony black, but sure, yes. How did you know?"

"Does he like wearing button up shirts and dress pants?"

"And Italian shoes," I added. "All the time. Why? Have you met him before?"

"Know him?" Angela gulped. "I think I just saw him." She raised her finger to point downwards towards the parking lot. And then I saw what she was seeing.

Frank, my absentee best friend, was sitting on the hood of his car, looking ill at ease as every pair of eyes in the sparsely populated parking lot (and its surrounding field) stared at him. Indeed he was dressed just as Angela described him, so he looked a few years older than his twenty years of age.

"Oh gods," I exclaimed, delighted. "It's Frank!"

---

I suppose leaving Angela on the roof was a bad decision on my part. In fact, leaving the school premises with Frank without telling anyone that I was leaving was sure to get me into trouble the minute I get back. But what the hell, I'm throwing all my cares away. Why? Because I haven't seen my best friend in months, and I missed him.

I repeat: My best friend.

And at the moment we were cruising down the highway, singing at the top of our voices and acting like immature idiots (which we were on special occasions, and this was a special occasion). IYAZ's song Replay was blaring from the Porsche's radio system, thankfully drowning out Frank's ear-splitting voice. Handsome and charming he might be, Frank was never able to hold a note or carry a tune. I'm not saying that I'm worthy to be singing in front of crowds, but at least I wasn't breaking the figurative glass windows.

"So Frankie," I said, slightly breathless from the song. I had turned it down to a more manageable volume for conversation. "Why the sudden reappearance, and where are you taking me? My house is in the other direction…"

"Why am I here?" Frank repeated, feigning feeling appalled. "Why, I'm hurt, Isabella. Does your best friend need a reason to drop by and see his best friend in the whole wide world?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, if that best friend is supposed to be attending college in Chicago, and especially if that best friend hadn't called in eons."

"Eons, Bella?"

I crossed my arms, grumbling, "Certainly felt like it to me."

"Aww, poor Bella," crooned Frank, jutting his lower lip out in an adorably fake pout. At this angle of his head, I was able to examine his face properly. His ebony black hair was long enough to cover his hazel eyes and there was a new scar on his cheek, most likely from one of the many monsters he'd battled. But being a son of Aphrodite, Frank was still handsome. It gets unfuriating at times.

"Don't 'aww, poor Bella' me," I snapped. "I've been worried about you! For all I'd know, you could be lying in a ditch somewhere, bleeding to death! Do you know how frightened I get every time I see you with a new scar?" I reached across to grab his chin and adjusted the angle of his head so that I had a better view of his battle souvenir. "How did that happen, huh? Another hellhound clawed you in the face?"

Frank looked away and I let him go, seeing as he was driving and all. His reaction told me enough: That it was a hellhound that attacked him. It was always hellhounds or one of the Furies. I didn't know what kind of feud there was between Frank and the god of the Underworld, but it has been seven years. It ought to be resolved by now.

I sighed, knowing that I've been too hard on my friend. "Sorry," I mumbled. "I just worry about you is all."

"No," Frank shook his head, glancing at me fleetingly before staring back out at the road, "I see where you're coming from. But I'd rather you don't find out about my latest escapades, you don't deserve to be worried all the time. That's one of the main reasons why I don't IM you every time something happens to me. I'd rather you be happy and carefree than be worried and anxious for just me. That, and because drachmas are difficult to come by."

"Frank," I sighed. I lifted my feet to rest on the chair and leaned my elbows on my knees, allowing my head to be cradled by my arms. "You're my best friend – how many times do I have to as that? It's natural that I worry, no matter what I know and don't know."

"So that's all I am, then?" he said, far too lowly to be overheard by me. But I did, and so I blushed at unintentionally hearing. Luckily, Frank didn't notice my blush and the rest of the ride to our destination was spent in heavy silence, despite the fact that the radio was on.

---

Frank parked the car in front of a grand looking building. After the longest of car rides, we finally arrived to wherever we needed to be. That is, the busy city of Seattle. When we had crossed the town limits, Frank explained to me that he and I needed to be somewhere (as if it weren't obvious) to meet a very important person. He didn't tell me any more details than that, but I'd gathered that this meeting was very important.
I was clueless as to how it would pertain to me, but it was important nonetheless.

Stepping out of the car, I shivered from the cold. I was only wearing my hoodie, and the cold biting wind was just that: cold and biting. Frank, bless his soul, offered me his coat to wear. I then obediently followed him into the building (which I now recognized as a theatre, judging from the dramatic and musical posters lining the walls of the lobby), I eventually found myself in a very spacious room. It was a circular room with chairs upon chairs arranged around an elliptical stage, in which an orchestra was situated.

Suffice to say, I was beyond baffled as to why Frank – and more importantly, I – would be needed in a theatre. The farthest I've gone into entertaining arts was the beauty pageants I was forced into, and even then my talents were second best.

"Frank, why…?"

"Shh," he hissed softly. "We need to be quiet; they're practicing." He reached for my hand and led me towards the center of the room, where the orchestra was.

"Then why are we here?" My eyes scanned the room, picking up details that only someone with battle ready skills can do: I saw that the room has been recently cleaned, there was equipment people scurrying around up on the balconies, blocking most if not all of the exit routes, and the orchestra were dressed in formal wear. In other words, people will be coming in soon to watch the show.

Frank didn't bother to answer my queries. We were by now at the very bottom and the center of the room and, as if timed, the moment we stepped on the stage, the orchestra's song ended. I vaguely identified it as Haydn's String Quartet in F Major No. 2 – yes, I listen to classical music, Haydn being one of my favorite composers. In fact, I find his Surprise Symphony very entertaining.

"Mr. Blaze, sir," said Frank, addressing the conductor. The man was very tall, at least six feet, and he had a crown of dull brown hair. When he turned around and faced Frank and I, I saw that he had a bright smile plastered on his wrinkled face and, dressed in a tailed tuxedo paired oddly enough with loafers, he looked quite handsome for a man well into his late forties.

"Yes, young man?"

My eyebrows shot up to meet my hairline. The man, strangely, had a young voice for someone so old.

"I had a dream last night," Frank whispered, wary of the clearly eavesdropping people surrounding us. Unknowingly, I was leaning in too, just to hear Frank's hushed words.

"Young man," laughed the man, "everyone has dreams."

"Yes," said Frank, unperturbed, "but this one stood out in particular, mainly because the exact same thing happened to me seven years ago."

"Ah," the old man's face smoothened, losing the gaiety he was wearing just moments before. "You must be Frank Stinson…" The man then looked at me long and hard, like he was assessing me. I certainly felt ill at ease as he took in my five feet short inches of height. For some reason, I felt underdressed in my worn out jeans and simple shirt for such an important occasion. Why meeting this old man was an important occasion, I might not know at the moment, but important it was. "…And you are Isabella Swan," the man said.

"Bella," I corrected automatically. My cheeks flamed under the man's reproofing yet vaguely amused gaze. Still, I apologized softly for speaking out of turn.

I watched as the man signaled one of the orchestra players, a girl with carrot red hair and eyes too close together, to lead the orchestra into playing another musical piece. He then led Frank and I into an antechamber of sorts, away from any stray listeners. My eyes had to adjust accordingly to the darkened room, but in time I was finally able to see the elaborate designs on the ceiling and the various paintings of people lining the walls. Already, Frank and the conductor were having a hushed discussion.

"Are you sure... she doesn't suspect a thing?"

"It was difficult to hide it from her for all these years, sir…" Frank replied. "…I managed to do so without much difficulty. I had to… but she remains unsuspecting."

Pretending to be engrossed in a painting of a little girl in a yellow dress, I strained my ears to listen. What were they talking about? Was the 'she' of their topic me? I mean, why would I be here in the first place? I like listening to orchestras and everything, but I had skipped school for this (and involuntarily the dinner Mrs. Cullen had invited Charlie and me to).

"Well then," the conductor said. "I suppose I should thank you… gallant acts throughout the years. You've done a good in job in protecting…" I was confused to piece together the fact that this old man knew about Frank's heroic deeds in fighting the many monsters he had encountered, but then it all made sense when he said, "You have the gods' blessing, Frank Stinson."

The conductor was a god, that much I was certain of. And who else would it be other than Apollo, the Greek god of music (among other things)?

My heart skipped a beat; this would be the second time in just one week that I was in the presence of an Olympian deity. If this happened to me more often in the past, then perhaps I wouldn't be so surprised. But this doesn't happen to nondescript, boring me. Nothing ever happens to me that can warrant the attention of the gods – well, except for what Aphrodite said.

Wait a minute.

I stiffened and, slowly, turned towards Frank and Apollo. Aphrodite mentioned something about my love story being the stuff of legends. She mentioned that being with my love, whomever he was, may or may not decide my fate with death. She also mentioned something about my decision jeopardizing the recent security of us Olympian gods. I suppose that could warrant the attention of the gods.

Feeling my gaze on them, the two men ceased their talking and looked at me. I looked back with appalled eyes – slowly, I'd been putting together the separate pieces and the bigger picture was materializing in my head: Frank was in league with Apollo about something, something that I was a huge part in. And it had something to do with Aphrodite's prediction, I was sure.

"Bella," began Frank, offering his hand for me to take. "This is not what it looks like."

"It usually never is," was my reply. It was a shock to hear that my voice was cold, detached. "I thought you were my best friend, Frank. As it turns out, you've just manipulated me like a chess piece."

"I am your best friend, Bella."

"No," I hissed, putting as much of my hatred and disgust into it, "you're not, Frank. Your mother was wrong about me not deserving you. It's your manipulative ass that doesn't deserve me. The past seven years had been a lie… you're just as bad as the gods themselves!"

I pushed past him, not hesitating in using some of the shoddy martial arts work I had accumulated in the past years. I left Frank kneeling on the ground, clutching his family jewels in pain. I ignored Apollo's shouts of my name as well as I left the room, the building, and ultimately ran into the pouring rain. I had pissed off the gods with my wayward mouth, but I didn't give a damn at the moment.

The Daughter of Apollo - Chapter 9

The Daughter of Apollo

Chapter 9: Please Be A Monster, Please Be A Monster

BPOV

I was being whisked away to the hospital because I had a concussion. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't mind going to the hospital. I mean, concussions were pretty serious stuff. But in this case, I was pissed, and all because of the pesky nurse who strapped me onto a gurney. If I wasn't strapped and therefore unmovable, then I would've stomped my feet in exasperation and, I don't know, punched something. I think I would know if my skull was cracked open. For one thing, there would've been blood – and pain. Lots of and lots of pain. And if there was pain, then there would be screaming.

Seeing as I was as silent as a mouse, I think it was safe for me to assume that I was broken-skull free.

"This is wholly unnecessary," I again told the driver, shouting so that I was to be heard over the rain. It was constantly raining here in Forks. "I'm completely fine!"

"A concussion if not fine, Ms. Swan," replied the nurse. The driver was ignoring me, the thin line of his lips telling me that he was on that delicate boundary between annoyed and angry. Since he was the driver, I thought it best to let him be… for now. Besides, I thought his sunglasses were cool, though why he would be wearing them in this rainy weather was beyond me.

"But I feel better already. Please let me out of this thing." I told the woman, eyeing her silky hair and deep, knowing eyes. I thought it was odd that she was wearing makeup as if she was attending a movie premiere. In fact, I thought it was odd that she was not wearing one of those scrubs that nurses were supposed to wear. I've watched enough of House, MD and Grey's Anatomy to know this.

"Be that as it may," said the woman, "I still need to tend to you."

I frowned at her choice of words. She spoke as if I was a problem. That, and she mentioned nothing about the hospital or x-rays or CAT scan or any form of a physical examination. Not even a good old check up from the good doctor, whoever he might be.

"What do you mean tend to me?" I asked, wary. I clumsily fumbled for the straps and the woman, seeing my pathetic attempts, rolled her eyes and took pity on me. I muttered a muffled "thanks" as I sat up. I looked at the front of the car to see the road, only to realize that there was no road to be seen. I instantly went on high alert.

"Oh, relax why don't you?" cried the woman. "You're perfectly safe." Even as she assured me of my safety, I knew I was far from safe. Why? Because the woman's blonde hair just turned to short, cropped black hair.
That was not normal hair behavior for mere mortals. This was either a monster or a god, and I prayed to my unknown father that it was the former. I may not have any weapons on me apart for my drumsticks, but I was ready to fight a monster. Facing a goddess, on the other hand… Having one kidnap you did not bode well for the captive, meaning me – it did not bode well for me.

"Who are you?" I was somewhat proud to hear that my voice wasn't wavering. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing, nothing," was the airy reply. "I just want to have nice, comfortable chat with you, Isabella."

"It's Bella," I corrected her mechanically. It earned me a raised eyebrow but I ploughed on. "You want to talk to me in an ambulance?" I said incredulously. "Of all the places you could've ambushed me throughout the day, you had to go to all the trouble of stealing an ambulance."

"I prefer the term commandeering," said the driver with a dry smile. "But what can I say, what the lady wants, the lady gets."

I gulped. I suddenly had a feeling that I know the identities of my kidnappers. And they weren't the identities of monsters. Shaking the fear from my mind and body, I locked eyes with the woman and bowed my head politely. I felt that I should watch my mouth from now on. There's no telling what kind of things a pissed off goddess can do to a half-blood.

"What is it that you want from me, Lady Aphrodite?" I said softly, respectfully.

The goddess waved off the greeting as her appearance morphed into a kind, motherly face with hair like mine. "A nice, comfortable chat," she said. "I thought I told you this already."

"A chat about?" I prompted, because to be honest, I was eager to get home.

"Mind your manners, half-blood!" yelled Ares from behind the wheel. I caught his glare on the rear-view mirror, despite the sunglasses that barred the view. I just knew that those literal flaming eyes of his were on me, and they were very menacing. A churning sensation played on my stomach.

"Sorry for my manners, Lord Ares, Lady Aphrodite. You see, this is the first time I've ever met a god or goddess, let along two at the same time, and –"

"Yes, yes, we know that already." Aphrodite brushed off my apology. "Let's get down to business, shall we?" She didn't wait for my apprehensive nod. "You, Isabella, are probably the most average girl in the entire world. You have boring brown hair, boring brown eyes, boring average height and built… and though that doesn't necessarily mean that you're boring, being a half-blood, I know you know that you're just the average demigod. There's simply nothing special about you as a person."

I nodded silently, agreeing timorously to everything Aphrodite was saying. I thought it best to keep my colorful thoughts to myself. For the goddess of love, she certainly doesn't come out as very loving.

"And for those reasons, I think that is why you are stuck in the Hermes cabin, are you not? You have no concrete way of knowing which cabin you belong to since your Olympian father has not claimed you yet, am I right?"

I nodded again. This was humiliating.

"I see. So, on the whole, you are a completely nondescript girl with no discernible way of standing out." So concentrated was I in fighting the urge to whack the look on Aphrodite's face, I nearly missed what Aphrodite said next. "Nevertheless," she said, "for some silly and esoteric reason, my son thinks he's in love with you."

"Excuse me, my Lady?" I squeaked, taken by surprise. Who wouldn't be? The Greek goddess of love and beauty just told me that one of her many sons was in love with boring, average me. Not only was it too good to be true, but it was so out of the blue.

And hey, that rhymed.

"You heard right," growled Ares. "Frank's in love with you."

"Frank?" I squeaked again. Frank was the one who had saved me from a hellhound when I was ten years old. Oh, and yes, he was a son of Aphrodite. Unlike most of his half brothers and sisters, monsters seem to find him wherever he was in the country. It helps ease my worries wonderfully to know that he was a capable swordsman, else I wouldn't be here in Forks. I would be with him fighting. He was my best friend.

"My son fancies himself in love with you, Bella," Aphrodite deadpanned. "But no matter how much I love the kid, I know that he's not truly in love with you. I am the goddess of love, am I not? He loves you, yes, but he's not in love with you. Don't bother trying to decipher what I said, Isabella. You won't understand it. Just understand this: My son thinking he's in love with you is not the only reason why I forced my presence upon you, girl."

"Wh-what is the other reason, my Lady?" I was curious. Frank was now at the back of my mind.

"You may be the average, run of the mill Plain Jane, but something will happen to you that will change that."
My eyebrows knitted by their own accord. "I don't… understand."

"You will fall in love child," Aphrodite said carefully, tenderly, as if she was caressing a newborn baby with her words. "And you will fall hard. Your love story will be the stuff of legends, but no one will know about it apart from a select few – I and your real father, for example. I think you should know that I will do whatever it takes to make this love successful. I'd fight your father if I have to. You know how much I love a good love story."

"My father," my throat clenched with the betrayal, but I continued speaking, "doesn't want me to be happy with this love that you're talking about… Why?"

My hands fisted and unfisted on my lap, sweating like crazy. My father, whomever he might be, did not want me to be happy with this love of mine? Was he sadistic or something? Not only was he letting me endure all of these years wishing for him to claim me, wishing to know who he really was, and now I find out that he didn't want me to fall in love? That was harsh, even for an Olympian god.

"I'm going to be honest with you, Isabella." Aphrodite took my hands and forced me to look at her unwaveringly, and I did. "You're father doesn't want you to be with this man because it will be dangerous. Being with him may or may not decide your fate with death, and eventually the recent security of us Olympian gods. But let's face it: Love is dangerous in and of itself."

The ambulance stopped moving, and I was forcibly thrown across the small space. I didn't notice that the god of war was driving that fast. Perhaps I was just that engrossed in the conversation or something. Any girl would forget that she was on fire if someone told her that her love life will be the stuff of legends. It was both exhilarating and terrifying.

"This is your stop," Aphrodite said. She smiled softly, opened the ambulance door and moved to the side, allowing me to pass by her. Like an automaton, I bid the two powerful gods goodbye automatically and stepped out of the car before it disappeared in a blink of an eye. After said blink, I realized that I was standing in the middle of the road, looking at Charlie's house.

Then it occurred to me that I may or may not have a concussion. I was tired and weary, and my head was spinning all the more with all this new information: Frank thinks he's in love with me, his mother says I don't deserved him, and it just so happens that she's interested in my love life which, apparently, I was forbidden to have because of my father?

This was too much. I collapsed, knowing nothing more.

I woke up the next day feeling well-rested and completely concussion-free. I was just so happy and relieved to be free of the dreams about mine and Frank's wedding (with Aphrodite as the officiator, who eventually curses me into oblivion for not heeding her warning), that it didn't occur to me until I was half into my jeans that the position of sun low in the sky didn't mean it was early morning. It was late afternoon.

"Oh, Styx," I cursed loudly, buttoning up my jeans. I just missed a day of school. Now I have to do some major catching up, or else my grades would suffer for the remainder semester. Frustrated, I grabbed a random shirt and stuffed my head through it, running downstairs as I did so for the landline. I would have to call Angela for the day's assignments, not to mention ask if she was up to some late night tutoring.

I was debating between doing the responsible thing and just drive to Angela's place, or do the lazy thing and turn on the TV and see a random comical sitcom for the rest of the night when, twenty seconds into an old rerun of a Friends episode, I remembered something about last night. It was something Aphrodite had said.
"I'd fight your father if I have to."

Confused as hell, I turned off the TV and robotically went up the stairs to my room. I retrieved the small collection of books I own, all pertaining about Ancient Greek mythologies. They were all written and published at different times (the latest being a compiled document printed from a Greek mythology blog) and countries (ranging from Greece itself to America to, oddly enough, Korea). All of the books have their own images and description about the twelve Olympian gods, the other major gods, minor gods, their immortal children, known mortal children.

And I plan on cross-examining them all to see if I could figure out who my father was. I can't believe I haven't done it before, cross-examining. I usually just read about one god and match his children's attributes to mine, not the other way around. I've never thought about my attributes and talents and then comparing them to other half-bloods, simply because I didn't have any. Like what Aphrodite said, I was nondescript.

"This wouldn't be too hard," I said to myself unconvicingly, cracking open the first book.

An hour later, my head was swimming with meaningless shapes and letters, while my hand was cramping from all of the notes I've taken. I roughly had three back to back pieces of yellow legal pad paper filled with my chicken scrawl penmanship, and at the very beginning was a list of my abilities. I was sure that the answer was staring me right in the face, but my stupid dyslexic brain wouldn't allow me to read further than the Olympian gods and no matter how much the evidence says so, I was not the daughter of the virgin goddess of the hunt, Artemis. I'm pretty sure that my mother was Renee. And come on: virgin goddess of the hunt. She may be a goddess and everything, but I doubt she's capable of immaculate conception.

"Bella, are you all right in there?" Charlie shouted from the kitchen. He was halfway through preparing dinner (a pizza take out), having come home after his shift about forty-five minutes ago. He was so glad to see me up and about that he asked me what I wanted to eat for the night. He ended up ordering pizza instead of cooking the fish he had caught from a previous fishing trip.

"I'm fine," I called, massaging my palms.

Dinner was quiet business – well, barring the part when Charlie informed me that he had accepted a dinner invitation for tomorrow night from Dr. Cullen a couple of hours ago. Apparently, his kids had been worried about my wellbeing since I did not show up in school at all today, and also, Mrs. Cullen had been pretty keen on meeting the girl who befriended her children.

"Pity really that th' kids 'round 'ere exclude th' five of 'em so much," said Charlie around a mouthful of pizza. He was talking about Edward, Jasper, Alice, Rosalie and Emmett. Who else? Santa's little helpers? Charlie finally swallowed and continued, "Of course, it doesn't help that they all live under the same roof, you know. Gotta give Dr. and Mrs. Cullen credit though, adopting all those teenagers and then dealing with them dating each other..."

Okay, that's news to me. Really, they were adopted by the same couple? That's something to think about.
"Well, they seem like nice people to me," I said, picking at the flavorless toppings of my slice of pizza. "Alice and Rosalie are really nice girls, and Emmett's funny once you get to know him. Jasper's interested in the Greek mythologies like me, and Edward…" I paused, not knowing what to say. I can't compliment him on his classical good looks in front of my Charlie for obvious reasons.

"Let's just say," I said finally, "that he's got a good voice."

"Oh, so you've heard him sing, then?"

I knew that he would come to that conclusion. Smiling, I stuffed my mouth with the pizza and grunted noncommittally. It was nice to know that I wasn't the only person in this town whose life was out of the norm.