before we both turn into ghosts ┊p. mclean

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Juno Luciano knew how to disappear.

She had spent her life vanishing into the margins, slipping through the cracks before the world could decide what to do with her.

It was instinct—like breathing, like blinking.
Running away wasn't the plan. It wasn't her choice, not really. It started when the strange anomalies around her began escalating.

Foster homes were one thing, but the Alvarez family—was the breaking point.

Mr. Alvarez had been kind in a stiff, wary way, and Mrs. Alvarez had tried too hard. They thought they could handle the challenge.

After their youngest daughter screamed that Juno's shadow "had snakes in it," they couldn't hide their unease.

They'd tried everything, therapy, special schools, even an exorcism after a particularly bad night.

Then, one morning, the front lawn went up in blue fire. No logical cause. Juno watched the flames curl toward the sky as sirens screamed in the distance. She left before anyone could tell her not to.

She moved through the streets like a ghost, silent and sharp-edged. She didn't speak unless necessary, didn't linger long enough to be noticed. She drifted through libraries, train stations, the occasional shelter, her presence a fleeting thing. The city swallowed her whole.

By the third week, exhaustion won. She sat beneath an overpass somewhere in the Bronx, knees drawn to her chest, one hand curled around the handle of a rusted knife.

"You look like hell," a voice said.

Juno didn't startle—she was too tired. She just tightened her grip and lifted her head. The man standing before her was oddly familiar, like something half-remembered from a dream. He was tall, lean, grinning like they were old friends. A ragged baseball cap cast his face in shadow.

"You always this chatty with strangers?" she asked.

He laughed. "Only the interesting ones." He crouched, resting his arms on his knees. "Name's Hermes. Maybe you've heard of me."

Juno stared at him.

He sighed. "Tough crowd. Alright, I'll cut to the chase—your mom sent me."

Juno's eye twitched. "Try again."

"Hecate," Hermes said, watching her closely. "She's been keeping an eye on you. Told me to find you before you burned down the whole city."

"Hecate," Juno repeated, voice flat. "The goddess?"

Hermes spread his hands. "That's the one."

Juno exhaled slowly. She should've been surprised. Should've asked more questions. But really, she had always known she was something not-quite-human. The way people looked at her—like an off-key note in a familiar song—had been proof enough.

"And what, she just suddenly remembered I exist?"

Hermes clicked his tongue. "Not my department, kid. But she did say it's time you went where you belong."

"Belong," Juno echoed.

"Camp Half-Blood," Hermes clarified. "It's safe. Safer than whatever this is, anyway."

Juno considered the weight of the knife in her hand, the packed bag at her feet. She considered the alleyways, the cold, the constant, gnawing knowledge that she could never stay anywhere for long.

She looked at Hermes.

"Whatever," she said.

His grin widened. "Knew you were smart."