Chapter 13 When You Get Bad News, Make a Bad Plan #2
I remembered how he’d balked at going through that drainage pipe during the obstacle course. I wondered if Harper was claustrophobic. Either way, I couldn’t blame him for not exploring a creepy cave in a monster-infested forest at night.
“We should definitely check that out,” Zuri said, rubbing her thumb against her bow pendant.
Benny and Harper looked less than thrilled by that idea.
“And you?” I asked Zuri. “Did you see anything aside from the form in the mist?”
She shifted her weight uneasily, like I’d asked for a kidney instead of a comment.
“During the hazing, no,” she said. “But tonight…”
I felt like I’d been kneed in the gut again. “You went back into the Zone, too? After all that talk about how I should wait for the group, how you couldn’t help me because you were too busy—”
Zuri’s glare stopped me cold.
“I’ve had a lot of practice hunting,” she said. “I can get around the woods without drawing attention. But only if I’m alone.”
I wanted to feel offended. On the other hand, I’d seen how silently she could sneak up on people. When I went into the woods, I tended to scream, rip up trees, and have fights with possibly imaginary enemies.
I grunted. “So what did you discover?”
“I went back to the spot where I saw that thing in the mist,” she said. “I was hoping to find monster tracks. Maybe Grant’s footprints. Instead, I found something worse.”
She unzipped her hazmat suit, reached inside, and pulled out a feather.
It wasn’t the kind of grungy black feather you’d pick up off the sidewalk and be forced to drop because your mom claimed it was full of mites that would eat your brain.
This feather was beautiful.
It was vibrant blue and orange, almost a foot long. Honestly, I didn’t know how Zuri even managed to fit it in her pocket. The only things at camp with feathers that big were pegasi and harpies, and neither of them were so colorful.
Benny took the feather and held it up for examination. “You found this in the Wild Zone?”
Zuri nodded. “And if it’s from the kind of monster I think it is, we’re all in big trouble.”
Harper gaped at her. “Why? What kind of monster do you think it’s from?”
Zuri shook her head. “Let’s just say we might have crossed paths before. The odds of that thing being here, though…”
I waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, I pressed. “Can you tell us—”
“No,” Zuri snapped. Then she took a deep breath. “I just want to be sure before I say any more. Because if I’m right…I need to kill it.” She checked herself. “We need to kill it.”
Okaaay, then.
She’d infused the words that thing with so much hate I could tell this was personal. And obviously, she didn’t want to share details.
I made a mental note to ask her about this later.
Benny turned to me. “Katie, the creature in the trees that followed you and Grant—could it have had feathers like this?”
I ran a hand down my face. “Maybe? I’d like to think I would’ve noticed enormous orange-and-blue feathers, but honestly, it was too dark to see much. We could ask one of the counselors if they recognize it.”
Zuri shook her head. “We’ve had zero luck getting help from the staff.
Argus doesn’t want to admit there’s a problem.
Clarisse doesn’t want to get into trouble.
Who else are you going to ask? The Stoll brothers?
They’d probably try to sell the feather on eBay.
Silena? Beckendorf? Lee Fletcher? I mean, they’re nice enough, but they’re not going to take this as seriously as us.
Worst-case scenario, we’ll end up with more people wandering around the woods, possibly into the Wild Zone, and disappearing. ”
I flinched at that.
Zuri took back the feather from Benny and slipped it into her coveralls. “Sorry, but it’s the truth.”
I hugged myself. “Well, I don’t want to be the reason anyone else gets taken.”
“Agreed,” Harper said. “Everyone’s safe for now, since they’re not allowed into the woods…right?”
Zuri’s face was not reassuring.
It would be strange if the monster we were dealing with just happened to be something from Zuri’s past. That seemed like a huge coincidence.
Then again, I remembered what the hooded man had told me: None of this is random.
If I had been chosen to be here, I wondered if the same was true for the others.
I found that idea deeply disquieting.
“I never checked the camp’s archives,” I said. “I could do that tomorrow.”
“I could ask around discreetly,” Harper added. “A little charmspeak might shake loose some information.”
“Good,” Zuri said. “I don’t want to wait longer than we have to, but we need to be more prepared before we face…whatever is out there. Can we reconvene tomorrow tonight?”
The three of us looked at Benny, who was frowning at the silverware trays. After a moment, he sighed.
“Families shouldn’t keep secrets,” he said, “but I don’t know if what we have so far is even worth calling a secret.
And I agree we need more information before we tell anyone else.
” He looked at each of us in turn. “On that note, if anyone has any other secrets they need to share, now would be a good time.”
I gave him a blank look. It was better than my other option, which was ugly-crying. I hadn’t even told them about the ring’s magic yet. Much less the hooded man. Or the secret scroll. Or what had happened to my mom and sister. Or, or, or…
It was too much for my brain to handle. Way too much to share. I tried to believe I was being logical by keeping the full story to myself, rather than just being a coward.
When no one replied, Benny nodded.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s finish up our chores. In the morning, we find out anything we can. Tomorrow night after KP, we make plans for the Wild Zone. Who knows? Maybe Grant and Silas will be found by then.”
He said it with zero conviction. That was fine; I didn’t believe it either.
When I got back to my cabin, I lay in my bunk and was staring at the ceiling long after everyone else had fallen asleep.
The ring in the fissure, the hooded man, the glowing symbol on the tree, the tunnel entrance, the feather…could it all be connected? If so, I didn’t see how the pieces fit. It sounded more like a twisted version of “The House That Jack Built.”
That gave me an idea. If there was anyone I could talk to about my problems, even the parts I didn’t want to admit to myself, it might be the mysterious little girl at the outdoor hearth.
I’d started to believe I knew who she was. Everyone at camp seemed to give her a wide berth, but not like they were ignoring her—more like they were showing her respect by staying out of her territory. She didn’t do much except tend the flames, but she radiated a sense of kindness and harmony.
If she was Hestia, the goddess of hearth and home, that would make sense. She would be one of the best deities you could run into. And after the last few days, I needed some kindness and godly wisdom.
I got out of bed, tiptoed across the cabin, and slipped out the front door. Before I could make my way to the fire, though, I heard hushed voices from somewhere behind the cabin—Argus’s, and that of a man I didn’t recognize.
I crept to the end of the porch and peeked around the corner. Argus stood with his back to me, blocking my view of the other man’s face, but his shaggy pair of goat legs told me he was a satyr.
“It must mean something, Argus,” the satyr said. “To stumble across these? And so close to each other?”
I couldn’t see what “these” were, but Argus bowed his head to inspect them. He turned the items over in his hand and then sighed. Most of his eyes glanced into the woods.
“Show no one,” he told the old satyr. “Not yet. Keep searching. It’s still possible Silas left for his quest without saying good-bye.”
I clenched my fists. That was exactly what I’d said to Beckendorf, but Argus didn’t sound like he believed what he was saying.
Benny was going to have some competition for the Least Convincing Statement Award.
The satyr started to protest, but Argus stopped him with a raised hand.
“Very well.” The satyr relented, taking back the items. “I will keep looking.”
I retreated into the shadows of the porch as Argus walked past, headed for the Big House. A moment later, the satyr trotted by, illuminated by just enough moonlight that I could see the objects he was holding.
I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.
In one hand, the satyr held Silas’s panpipes, a satyr’s most sacred treasure and resource—something he’d never leave behind. I knew they were Silas’s. He’d painted them teal and decorated them with World Wildlife Fund stickers of pandas and tigers.
In the satyr’s other hand gleamed a beautiful blue-and-orange feather. Just like Zuri’s.
If I’d had any doubts before, I didn’t now. Something was abducting people from Camp Half-Blood. And it already had two in its collection.