Renegade

Emily's POV

The next morning, Griff wasn’t in his bed when I woke up. That worried me a little, seeing as I had gotten used to the jet-lag and was now getting up at around six in the morning. I got up slowly, had a cup of coffee and went out, still in my pajamas to look for Griff. It was six in the morning, and nobody else was up. Besides, I had a pretty good idea of where he was.

As I walked to the sword arena, I started to hear sounds that worried me a little. A voice, clearly my father’s was shouting in the arena so loud I could hear him through the closed doors.

Oh Gods, I thought, Griff, you didn’t tell my dad about us, did you?

I picked up the pace, my bare feet walking faster through the damp grass. I was about to open the arena door when my father burst through it. He looked angry, angrier than I had ever seen him before. When he saw me, he tried to soften his death-stare, but I knew that it wasn’t happening.

“You!” He said, his rage barely controlled, “Come with me, young lady!”

“Not a chance in Hades,” I said, seeing as my father had basically confirmed what his argument had been about, “Dad, I’m about to turn sixteen. I’ve killed monsters on my own, travelled Europe on my own, and got into TFG, the most prestigious organization in Olympus on my own. I can live my own life now.”

My dad was silent for a couple heartbeats. Then, he seemed to give in, and I felt relieved. Then, he tightened his jaw and spat,

“No date tonight, and that’s final.”

“What?” I said, pouting, “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not, Emily Grace,” He responded. He knew I hated to be called by my full name. It made me feel like a child.

“Fine,” I spat, my anger growing at both my dad and my boyfriend. My dad seemed satisfied and left in a huff as I walked into the sword arena.

“Seriously, Griff?” I asked, the bitterness apparent in my voice.

But when I saw him, part of me wanted to start drooling. He was dripping with sweat, and he had taken his shirt off. I hadn’t realized on our trips through Europe how fit he was. His six-pack abs gleamed in the lights of the arena. His ripped shoulder and biceps seemed larger than life as walked over to me. I couldn’t believe that I had actually been lucky enough to land this guy.

Then, he smiled at me, laughing, “Stop staring, Emily, it’s making me feel embarrassed.”

“Gods,” I scolded him, “do you realize how many times I have to say that at high-school parties?”

“I know, right!” Griff said in mock sympathy, “Now I know how it feels to be an attractive girl.”

“Shut up, Griff,” I said, trying to remember to be angry at him for telling my dad.

Then I realized that we weren’t alone. Xavier was packing up two swords, and his shirt was off as well. Unlike Griff, whose muscles had enough meat on them to not make him look too skinny (and also made him eye candy), Xavier was much more lithe. He looked almost too in shape as he zipped up his sword bag and started walking out of the arena.

Then I realized why Xavier looked so thin. It would have been impossible for him to put any weight on his abs without going through a massive amount of pain. For across his entire torso, from his pectorals to his lower abs, Xavier was covered in scars.

His scars didn’t leave much normal, smooth skin showing. They were everywhere, pointing in almost every direction. He had sword cuts, drakon claw marks, and what looked like shrapnel or grenade wounds. It disturbed me to see a human that hurt from fighting.

“Gods of Olympus,” I said to myself too loudly, “Xavier, what happened to you?”

“What happened,” he said, “was Kronos. Long story short, fifteen of his men and a pet tiger had their way with me and left me inside of a room with a live fragmentation grenade. I don’t know how I survived.”

“Gods,” Griff said, obviously as shocked as I was, “Those scars all happened in one night? How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” he responded calmly, “and I don’t want to talk about it.”

Then, he walked out the door, putting his shirt on. Scars hidden.

It took me a second to come back to the real world, but then I remembered that I had a hot, sweaty boyfriend on my hands. A boyfriend that I needed to remind myself to scold, and not to goggle over.

“You told my dad, Griff,” I said, “and he’s seriously pissed.”

“What’d he do?” He asked, partly concerned, bracing himself for the consequences, partly amusedly curious.

“He said we couldn’t have our date tonight,” I responded, and he groaned.

“Styx! I had it planned an everything!”

“It’s not my fault,” I pointed out, but Griff gave me the puppy-dog eyes.

“Ugh,” I groaned, “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

“I love you,” he said, and he kissed me, picking me up into the air. I giggled as he set me down, and we walked out of the arena hand-in-hand.

The rest of the day went by in a breeze, and before I knew it, I was cleaning up after dinner. Griff had told me Nico’s story, and how the son of Hades would be spending the night off of the campgrounds. As we walked hand-in-hand to the Apollo sing-along, I thought about the Attic window. I thought that if I were the shooter, tonight would be the perfect night to finish setting up the rifle. After a couple songs of leaning on Griff’s shoulder, I decided to take one last look at the Attic window before leaving the Amphitheater to go to sleep. That’s when I saw it.

A figure, robed in black, facing towards the cabins was moving in the Attic window.

“Griff,” I whispered, but he was already asleep. I gently leaned him against one of the earthen steps that made up the Amphitheater and started running back to the Big House. I climbed the stairs slowly, trying to be as stealthy as possible. If I tipped off the shooter, he would start moving immediately.

When I got to the Attic door, I found it wide open.

Jeez, I thought, the shooter must not think he’ll be found.

But all my judgments about the shooter melted away when I saw the shooter. He had on official TFG camouflage, black war paint and a stealthy robe on. Where Griff and I had found the impressions in the wood, there now stood a black sniper’s tripod. The shooter had brought his rifle tonight, and was fixing it clearly towards Cabin Three.

I was still in awe of the fact that I had actually caught the shooter in the act. I was so in awe, in fact, that I had forgotten the fact that I was still standing in the Attic doorway. Suddenly, a couple floors below me, the floors creaked as Chiron clopped into his study. The shooter tensed, and I realized that I needed to move. So, as silently as I could, I moved behind the same crates Griff and I had hid a few nights earlier. That’s when I saw that the shooter and I were not alone.

A few feet past the shooter, cloaked in the shadow of a corner formed by two weirdly formed walls stood Nico di Angelo himself. His presence next to the shooter completely cleared his name. There was now absolutely no chance that he could be the shooter. When I hid behind the crates, I could still see the son of Hades’ eyes. He turned his head slowly, meticulously, towards me and we seemed to reach a sort of agreement. We both recognized the shooter. He nodded his head ever so slightly towards the Attic door, and I got the message.

Time to leave.

So, while the shooter was focused on clipping his rifle into his tripod that he didn’t notice me sneak out of the Attic. The last thing I saw the shooter do was throw a sort of camouflage cloth over his rifle that completed hid the rifle. It looked like nothing was there, and it was the most advanced active camouflage I had ever seen.

Then, I sneaked back downstairs and got into my pajamas, feeling myself starting to hyperventilate. As I reached the ground floor, Griff opened the door, scaring the Styx out of me.

“Hey, Em!” he said in a normal voice, which was almost a shout to my now hyper-activated ears.

“Gods, Griff, keep it down!” I whispered harshly. Even I could feel my eyes darting around the room like a cornered animal.

“Whoa,” He said, realizing something was wrong. Then, he locked eyes with me and pointed upstairs, a question in his eyes. I nodded, and his eyes widened. But I couldn’t say a word. I was still in shock at who the shooter was.

Suddenly, I found myself throwing my arms around Griff’s midsection, clinging to him for dear life. He embraced me back as I took in the smoky smell of his sweater.

“Let’s go to sleep, eh?” I asked into his hoodie.

“Mm-hmm,” He said, leading me down the hall to our bunks.

As we reached our bunks, I didn’t even hesitate. I climbed into Griff’s bunk with him. I needed someone to keep me safe tonight. Especially after recognizing the shooter. The last thing I saw before I fell asleep was his face.

Xavier’s face.

Notes

OH MY GODS XAVIER IS TEH SNIPER. Was it obvious that he was going to be the sniper? Comment your answer if you want to.

Enjoy,
Grafon

P.S. That "active camouflage" line was for anyone that's played a lot of videogames, including you, @That_Dam_Persassy