Chapter 1 I Do Target Practice with the Family （I’m the Target） #2
Clarisse blinked. She turned to her cronies. “How tight did you have that sack around her head?”
I suppose she expected a fellow child of Ares to be surly and aggressive. But I was also the child of Nadia Kim, former Olympic sharpshooter for South Korea. She never did what anyone expected, and she’d taught me that challenges can be won with mental strength just as much as with brute strength.
Besides, being surly and aggressive never worked in my favor. Curling into a ball and crying (which was what I wanted to do) probably wouldn’t go over well, either, so my only other option? Confuse them with confidence.
I kept smiling until Clarisse broke eye contact, glowering.
“I don’t know what your deal is, Kim,” she said. “Luckily, that works in your favor for now.” She checked her scroll. Her upper lip curled. “Next is Harper Rush, son of Aphrodite. Just what we need. Another preening swan.”
I hadn’t met Harper yet, but it was obvious which captive was him.
His blue eyes were lined with the longest, most gorgeous, absolutely-not-fair lashes.
His blond locks were flawless, even after being shoved in a burlap sack.
Once I focused on him, it was hard to look anywhere else, like he was the star of this nighttime abduction and the rest of us were just the supporting cast.
He leaned forward, his expression serious, like he had a secret to tell Clarisse. She bent toward him.
“Tell us how you preen,” Harper suggested. His voice was gentle, encouraging…intoxicating.
Clarisse’s mouth fell open. Her eyes took on a faraway look.
“I preen as much as any child of Aphrodite,” she admitted in a wooden voice. “I just hide it better. There’s a footlocker under my bunk full of salt scrubs and—”
“Clarisse!” One of her cronies elbowed her.
Clarisse flinched. She looked around at all of us, as if she’d forgotten we were there. Then she fixed a soul-crushing stare on Harper. I couldn’t be positive, but I was pretty sure he’d just used charmspeak on Clarisse.
I made another mental note: Don’t underestimate the cute guy.
“I’ll deal with you soon enough,” Clarisse growled.
“Who, me?” Harper asked innocently, blinking those long lashes.
Clarisse let that pass, dropping her gaze to her scroll. “Next we have Zuri Chapman, daughter of Apollo.” Clarisse smirked. “That would be the mouthy girl who thinks this is a charade.”
To her credit, Zuri made no snide comment this time. She just lifted her chin in acknowledgment.
She was a Black girl with a classic Greek nose accented with a single silver stud. Her fierce brown eyes were framed by dark corkscrew curls. She wore a tee over a striped long-sleeved shirt—an interesting look, but she made it work.
Clarisse waited for sass. Zuri didn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Okay, then.” Clarisse checked her list. “Next up, Benny Garcia. The man with a million questions. And I see you’re unclaimed. I wonder why.” Clarisse mimed a yapping mouth with one hand, and her cronies laughed.
“I’ve only spoken twice,” Benny mumbled.
While Harper was beautiful, Benny was buff.
And, okay, also a little beautiful.
He was a Latino boy who looked like he’d spent his childhood pitching hay bales to cattle.
Or even pitching cattle to hay bales. His hair was black as ink, curled up in cute little tufts at the end.
His eyebrows quirked in a way that made him look eternally pensive.
If I had to guess his godly parent, I would have said Superman.
Clarisse checked her scroll one last time. “Finally, Grant White, son of Ares.” She looked him up and down and didn’t seem to hate what she saw.
Not that it was possible to hate Grant.
He was the oldest of us newbies, and he radiated calm confidence. He had dark wavy hair like mine, but where my eyes were brown like my mom’s, his were green like our dad’s. And he was tall like our dad, too. The perfect height for a perfect big brother.
I’d only met Grant recently—the day my life had changed forever—but I knew he was a genuinely good guy. He’d watched out for me. He’d literally saved my life.
There was no way Clarisse could have known any of that, but still, judging from her expression, she seemed to be thinking Grant White might not be the worst thing that had ever happened to her cabin.
All she said was “Let’s see how things shake out.”
Then she rolled up the scroll and handed it to one of her cronies. “Now, a minute ago, Unclaimed Kid asked a good question—”
“My name’s Benny.”
“Is this a camp-sanctioned activity?” Clarisse continued.
“The answer is absolutely not. This is an initiation. A little test to see what you’re made of.
If you fail, you’re dead. If you succeed and then breathe a word of this to the camp directors, you’re dead.
Either way, it’s important to understand that nobody will help you. Because nobody cares.”
“Thanks for sugarcoating it,” Benny said dryly.
“Aww.” Clarisse feigned a sympathetic pout and ruffled his hair. “I know that’s hard to hear. I’m sure you were all so important in your old lives.”
She glanced at one of her cronies. “Turn them loose.”
The boy pulled a large knife, circled behind us, and began cutting our wrist restraints. That was the good news.
The bad news was that Clarisse kept talking. For someone who complained about mouthy people, she sure loved the sound of her own voice.
“The truth is,” she said, “most of our campers arrive in summer. The rest of the year, they live out in the real world, because they have at least one adult who loves them, or simply because they know how to handle themselves. All five of you arrived off-season.”