“Why is he here? Mortals aren’t allowed to set foot in the house of a god!” “He’s here because I invited him in,” the woman said. “ You?” He turned back to the kneeling woman. The boy wheeled around and examined him with amazement. This ridiculous story ends now!” He expected to snap back awake. I only wanted you to see the options, so you would be prepared for what might lie ahead.” “All right,” Claymore finally spoke up. I didn’t promise you that it would occur. “Alabaster, I simply told you the most likely outcome. The green shimmer surrounded her like an aura. Despite the grime and dust she was kneeling in, the woman looked spotless. Her dark hair barely came down to her shoulders. She was dressed in white robes covered with ornate silver designs, like runes or alchemy symbols. She knelt at the end of the aisle, her face raised as if in prayer to a dirty stained glass window above the altar. “Kronos wasn’t supposed to lose! You said the odds of winning were in the Titans’ favor! You told me Camp Half-Blood would be destroyed!” When the boy moved, Claymore could finally see the woman that he was talking to. The boy, Alabaster, stepped toward the green light. Claymore had hoped to gain some insight from this dream, but now it seemed like garbage-more mythology and legends. The name Kronos referred to the Titan lord of Greek mythology, son of the earth and the heavens, but the rest made no sense. I have bargained to keep you safe thus far, but I cannot interfere in your fight with her.” Claymore frowned. You can’t simply turn to your enemies now and ask for forgiveness. “But this is a battle you brought upon yourself. “I-I understand, Mother.” “Alabaster, you know I love you,” the woman said. I can’t raise my hand against either of you.” The boy tensed like he was ready to argue, but he stopped himself. “You know I cannot help you, my child,” she said. Her tone was stoic and without humor, and something about it sent a shiver up Claymore’s spine. Then, finally, a woman spoke from the front of the room. She’s closing in on my scent.” For a moment there was no answer. “I don’t know if I can fight her off this time. His back was turned, and he seemed to be talking to the green light. He could have woken himself now if he’d wanted to, but he decided not to just yet. What was he doing in Claymore’s dream? Claymore was what people called a lucid dreamer, someone who usually knows when they’re dreaming and can wake up at will. Though Claymore couldn’t see clearly, he was sure it was the same kid from the auditorium. The source of the light was obscured by a boy standing in the aisle directly in front of him. There was no light except for a soft green shimmer at the far end of the room. It looked like a church that hadn’t been cleaned in a century. He found himself in a vast room, old and dusty. Claymore knew that curiosity and excitement could twist a person’s dreams. He wasn’t going to step into the crossfire. He would just let the psychos thin themselves out, if that’s what they wished.
He felt a strange urge to warn the child. Why on earth would she want that boy’s address? What did Lamia want with him? Claymore shivered. Tomorrow, perhaps, he’d file a police report. He unplugged his phone, and that was the end of that.
The phone rang again-Lamia’s ID-but Claymore had absolutely no intention of picking it up. So much for her being a nice grandmother. What was that woman’s problem? She had started the conversation by practically saying, “I’ve been stalking you,” and then tried to convert him. “It makes my job that much harder.” Claymore slammed down the receiver. “That’s a shame,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
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