Camp Half-Blood: Shadows, Shields and Secrets

Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus fanfic for the Battle Of The Fandoms comp!!!!! :) :)

Three demigods, sent to retrieve the armour and the shield of Achilles. If they succeed, the demigods might stand a chance against Gaia's forces. If they fail, the demigods lose.

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3. Chapter two (Dana)

Starr decided to stop running right in the middle of the courtyard, and I almost ran into her - again. But I didn't, and instead looked back, following her eyes.

The hellhound had just exploded into dust.

"Come over here," this random year eleven guy called out, and my eyes widened when I saw the club. "I promise I won't hurt you."

Starr hesitated, but started to walk towards him. Why she was walking towards a psycho with a club, I had no idea, but she was doing so anyway.

And for some reason, I followed.

"Why's that guy got a club?" I asked Starr. She didn't look back, just said, in a really disbelieving voice,

"He's a satyr."

I didn't have a clue what the hell a satyr was, but I nodded anyway.

"Right. Satyr. Hellhound. Got it."

The club guy walked calmly towards us, like he hadn't just killed a hellhound, and like he wasn't some crazy dude with a club.

"We have to get you away from here," Club-guy said. "I'll contact Chiron, and find out if I can get you a chariot to Camp Half-Blood."

"Camp Half-Blood?" Starr squeaked, excitement sparked in her eyes. "You mean...?"

"Yes. You're demigods," Club-guy replied.

"What are you talking about? And why should I trust you, when you've just appeared out of nowhere with a freaking CLUB?" I said, my voice just a little higher than normal. Starr grinned at me, her eyes gleaming.

"We can trust him. He's a protector," she told me. I didn't believe her, until another snarl came from a few streets away, and I figured I had no choice.

"Come with me," Club-guy said in a seriously commanding voice, and I figured that he was our best hope. Plus, maybe if Starr trusted him...

I sighed.

"Fine."

We ran after him, away from the school, and the normal world was forgotten.

 

The second hellhound had caught up with us by the time we had ran through just a few streets. I felt that familiar fear seeping through me, the terror gripping me again.

"Stay behind me," Club-guy commanded, and I obeyed. When you're with some guy who can vaporize hellhounds, it's best to leave them to do the monster-mashing.

The hellhound tore towards us, and I found myself biting back a scream, as Club-guy raised his weapon above his head, ready to smash the hellhound in the face.

He swung the club, and I sighed in relief.

The relief vanished soon after, when I realised that, at the last minute, the hellhound had jumped, landing behind us.

That time, I really couldn't stop the scream, as Starr grabbed my arm, dragging me back behind Club-guy.

Fangs snapped at the air where I'd just been standing.

Before Club-guy could do anything, the hellhound had leapt forwards, deciding to finally chase him instead of us. I saw a look of shock in the year eleven's brown eyes as the hellhound's front paws slammed into his chest, strong enough to smash him down into the pavement.

His club went flying, and we found ourselves completely and utterly vulnerable.

"Run!" I yelled, turning around and fleeing. If you were expecting some heroic deed, and for me to grab the club and yell,

"FOR FREAKY YEAR ELEVEN CLUB-GUYS!" then you're wrong. I physically didn't have it in me to go back and aid Club-guy. But hey, if you were being hunted by creatures like that, then think about it: would you really be that stupid?

Running probably hadn't been the best thing to do. Within seconds, I was cornered. The hellhound slowed to a prowl, a cruel, menacing glint in it's eye. It's dinner couldn't escape; it had no need to run.

Unfortunately, I seemed to be the main course.

The hellhound suddenly lurged forwards, pinning me to the ground under one of it's huge, heavy paws. Just to prove the point that I was seriously no Heracles, I screamed like a two year old at the sight of flashing fangs and dripping saliva.

My eyes clamped shut from fear, and I waited for the fangs to tear me apart. A choked sob escaped my throat.

And then, suddenly, the weight was lifted from my chest, and a faint crumbling sound drifted to my ears. Slowly opening my eyes, I saw Starr standing above me, club in hand.

"I think we just became hellhound killers," she grinned, resting her weapon on her shoulder like a natural. "Now let's go save that satyr."

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