Bewitched || P. Jackson

𝕊hampoo doesn't taste nice

Of course, Nicki's sleep only brought more nightmares.

She dreamt she was with Ethan Nakamura at the enemy camp. Her breath hitched in her throat as she surveyed the monstrous army.

They were in the backwoods of New Jersey, on a crumbling road lined with run-down businesses and tattered billboard signs. A trampled fence ringed a big yard full of cement statuary. The sign above the warehouse was hard to read because it was in red cursive, but Nicki managed to decipher what it said: AUNTY EM'S GARDEN GNOME EMPORIUM.

It was clearly abandoned. The statues were broken and spray-painted with graffiti. A cement satyr had lost his arm. Part of the warehouse roof had caved in. A big yellow sign posted on the door read: CONDEMNED.

Hundreds of tents and fires surrounded the property. Mostly Nicki saw monsters, but there were some human mercenaries in combat fatigues and demigods in armour, too. A purple-and-black banner hung outside the emporium, guarded by two huge blue Hyperboreans.

Ethan was crouched at the nearest campfire. A couple of other demigods sat with him, sharpening their swords. Thomas was sat closest to Ethan, humming under his breath.

The doors of the warehouse opened, and Prometheus stepped out.

"Nakamura," he called. "The master would like to speak to you."

Ethan stood up warily. "Something wrong?"

Prometheus smiled. "You'll have to ask him."

Ella snickered. "Nice knowing you." Ethan readjusted his sword belt and headed into the warehouse.

Statues of terrified people stood frozen in midscream. In the snack bar area, the picnic tables had been moved aside. Right between the soda dispenser and pretzel warmer stood a golden throne.

Kronos lounged on it, his scythe across his lap. He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and with his brooding expression he looked almost human—like the younger version of Luke, Nicki had seen in her dreams. Then Luke saw Ethan, and his face contorted into a very inhuman smile. His golden eyes glowed.

"Well, Nakamura. What did you think of the diplomatic mission?"

Ethan hesitated. He fidgeted with a thin, purple threaded bracelet around his wrist. "I'm sure Lord Prometheus is better suited to speak—"

"But I asked you."

Ethan's good eye darted back and forth, noting the guards that stood around Kronos. "I... I don't think Jackson will surrender. Ever."

Kronos nodded. "Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"N-no, sir."

"You look nervous, Ethan."

"No, sir. It's just..." Ethan flexed his left hand. "I heard this was the lair of—"

"Medusa? Yes, quite true. Lovely place, eh? Unfortunately, Medusa hasn't re-formed since Jackson killed her, so you needn't worry about joining her collection. Besides, there are much more dangerous forces in this room."

Kronos looked over at a Laistrygonian giant who was munching noisily on some french fries. Kronos waved his hand and the giant froze. A french fry hung suspended in midair halfway between his hand and his mouth.

"Why turn them to stone," Kronos asked, "when you can freeze time itself?"

His golden eyes bored into Ethan's face. "Now, tell me one more thing. What happened last night on the Williamsburg Bridge?"

Ethan trembled. Beads of perspiration were popping up on his forehead. "I... I don't know, sir."

"Yes, you do." Kronos rose from his seat. "When you attacked Jackson, something happened. Something was not quite right. The girl, Nicki, jumped in your way."