Flowergirl, Percy Jackson

010. Devil's Advocate

warning: graphic description of drowning 

      For a god, Hephaestus was pretty okay. Not that Lila's met many gods —  but of those she has met, one drank wine rather excessively, one tried to turn into a door, and the last looked at Lila like she'd quite like to chuck her off the peak of Mount Olympus, as she once did her son. In fact, Lila's pretty sure that Hera's dislike of herself made her more likable to the blacksmith god, who had been indifferent to Percy and Grover, respectful to Annabeth and Tyson, but rather sweet to her. He'd showed her designs for this huge metal flower he planned to gift his latest conquest on earth — Percy had looked disgusted, but Lila thought it was romantic. 

     (She'd asked him why he didn't just get normal flowers —  flowers die quickly, he'd replied.) 

     He had asked them to check out his favourite forge on Mount St Helens, which was fine. It didn't sound so bad, until he started talking of disappearing automatons and Typhon hidden under the mountain. Call Lila crazy, but she'd heard how Hephaestus's automatons killed Bianca di Angelo — and that had been a faulty one. If something was destroying them — well, she didn't want to meet it. 

      She had liked him. Even if she couldn't blink away the image of poor Bianca di Angelo, paler than a ghost and half-transparent, forced to survive on Happy Meals and trapped on the wrong side of the veil from her brother, she had liked the god (as much as one could like a god). Every word he had spoken had tasted of truth, without leaving a sour, bitter aftertaste in her mouth, as Hera's words had. 

      Shoddy workmanship, he had said of them. But when he looked at Lila, she had gotten the feeling that she wasn't grouped with the others. But why not? She was a demigod too, just like them. She's more of a mortal than any — she doesn't even have Annabeth's mind or Percy's instincts. 

    Caught up in her thoughts, Lila doesn't even realise she's stopped walking. Not until Percy turns to frown back at her, eyes swimming with concern. "What's wrong?" 

     She can't answer. But she looks around her again, blinking like she's just seen Earth for the first time. The mist seems to clear from her head a little — gods, she can hardly believe so much has happened in less than twenty-four hours. The Sphinx, Geryon, even Nico. (Lila's fine with change — she just likes it to be gradual. And this is not gradual, at all. The boundaries of their quest seem to be changing and molding faster than the labyrinth itself.)

      Scattered on the ground are half-shredded tree roots, wrapped around a tunnel that gapes like the maw of Tartarus. The tunnel itself leads into a blackened pit, practically exuding repellent energy — yet it somehow draws her in, too. It's dug from fresh earth, which means it's probably a new feature of the lovely ever-changing labyrinth. "Oh, What's this?"

      Grover rushes back, eyes alight with wildfire. "This wasn't here before! Lila, what did you do?"

      That sounds accusatory, somehow. Lila's not sure if she should be offended by whatever it's supposed to insinuate. Then again, maybe she's just overreacting — Clarisse has always called her sensitive.It wasn't intended as a compliment. 

      Annabeth's eyes are narrowed, but she doesn't seem angry, which is a good thing. Annabeth when angry is more terrifying than the might of Hera and whatever is hidden in Mount St Helens put together. No, instead, Annabeth looks contemplative. And confused. Whatever is going on, Annabeth certainly didn't foresee it.   

      Lila scrambles for an answer, looking around at the tunnel. Fingers graze the edges — they come away stained by dust. In all honesty, she didn't even notice it until Percy woke her from her reverie. . . And there was no reason for her to stop. "I . . . Are you sure this wasn't here before?"