Rewritten Lightning Thief - MxSpikedFruitcake - Percy Jackson and the Olympians (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.

If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages, if you feel something stirring inside, stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you. My name is Percy Jackson. I’m thirteen years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid? Yeah. You could say that. I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan.

Twenty-eight problematic kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff. I know, it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes. Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. An unopened red parasol stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table. He had a nourished but thinning mane and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee.

You wouldn’t think he’d be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, though he never directly told us where he got them.

Boy, was I wrong. See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn’t aiming for the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyway.

And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that….Well, you get the idea.

This trip, I was determined to be good. All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must’ve been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled.

He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don’t let that fool you. You should’ve seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn’t do anything back to her because I was already on probation.

The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip. “I’m going to kill her,” I mumbled.

Grover tried to calm me down. “It’s okay. I like peanut butter.” He dodged another piece of Nancy’s lunch. “That’s it.” I started to get up, but Grover pulled me back to my seat. “You’re already on probation,” he reminded me.

“You know who’ll get blamed if anything happens.” Looking back on it, I wish I’d decked Nancy Bobofit right then and there. In-school suspension would’ve been nothing compared to the mess I was about to get myself into.

While we drove, I was about to wish I had a phone but then I remembered. Of course, the blackout. There was a blackout over winter break. The city’s generator must’ve exploded, because it’s been broken ever since. Apparently a lot of other places are having the same problem.

At some point, I just resigned myself to waiting out the trip until we got to the museum.

Mr. Brunner led the museum tour. He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery. It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides.

I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was a devil spawn.

She would point her crooked finger at me and say, “Now, honey,” real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after school detention for a month. One time, after she’d made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn’t think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me a little nervously, but didn’t say a thing.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned around and said, “Will you shut up?” It came out louder than I meant it to. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. “Mr. Jackson,” he said, “did you have a comment?” My face was totally red. I said, “No, sir.”

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?” I looked at the carving, and felt a flush of relief, because I actually recognized it. “That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?” “Yes,” Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. “And he did this because...” “Well...” I racked my brain to remember. “Kronos was the king god, and-” “God?” Mr. Brunner asked. “Titan,” I corrected myself. “And he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters ""Eeew!” said one of the girls behind me. “and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans,” I continued, “and the gods won.”

Some snickers from the group. Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, “Like we’re going to use this in real life. Like it’s going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.’” “And why, Mr. Jackson,” Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question, does this matter in real life?” “Busted,” Grover muttered. “Shut up,” Nancy hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got called out, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had the hearing of a predator. I thought about his question, and shrugged. “I don’t know, sir.” “I see.” Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. “Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan’s stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it’s time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?” He finished his speech with a light amusem*nt, like he thought the whole thing was a comedy routine. I guess as a Latin teacher you get desensitized to this kind of stuff.

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses. Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, “Mr. Jackson.” I knew that was coming. I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner. “Sir?” Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn’t let you go. Intense brown eyes that could’ve been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

“You must learn the answer to my question,” Mr. Brunner told me. “About the Titans?” “About real life. And how your studies apply to it.” “Oh.” “What you learn from me,” he said, “is important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson.”

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard. I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he had us dress up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: “What ho!” and challenged us, sword-point against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshiped.

But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No, he didn’t expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn’t learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner gave a passing glare at the stele, like they had a personal vendetta against each other. He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I’d ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We’d had massive snow storms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes.

The two weathermen were getting increasingly competitive, but one focused on the floods and earthquakes, while the other talked in great detail about the lightning strikes and where they’d hit next.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit was trying to pickpocket something from a lady’s purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn’t seeing anything. Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others.

We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn’t know we were from that school, the school for loser freaks who couldn’t make it elsewhere. “Detention?” Grover asked. “Nah,” I said. “Not from Brunner. I just wish he’d lay off me sometimes. I mean, I’m not a genius.” Grover didn’t say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, “Can I have your apple?” I didn’t have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom’s apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas. I wanted so badly to jump in a taxi and head home. She’d hug me and be glad to see me, but she’d be disappointed, too. She’d send me right back to Yancy, reminding me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn’t be able to stand that sad look she’d give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate some beef jerky while he read a paperback novel. I was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends. I guess she’d gotten tired of stealing from the tourists. and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover’s lap. “Oops.”

She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos. I tried to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, “Count to ten, get control of your temper.” But I was so mad my mind went blank.

A wave roared in my ears. I don’t remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, “Percy pushed me!” Mrs. Dodds put down the book she was reading, and began waddling to us. Some of the kids were whispering: “Did you see?” “the water..” “like it grabbed her..” I didn’t know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

I looked down at her. Her skin was wet, for some reason. I never got why that happened. Clothes, I could understand. But skin? Doesn’t it just naturally stay dry? Maybe this was why I always failed biology.

Before Mrs. Dodds could reach us, however, Mr. Brunner had intervened. His eyes were dead set on me. Uh oh. I didn’t like it when Mr. Brunner was mad. “Percy, please come with me.” “Wait!” Grover yelped. “It was me. I pushed her.” I stared at him, stunned.

I couldn’t believe he was trying to cover for me. Sure, Mrs. Dodds was scary, but Mr. Brunner, with his elbows on his wheelchair, fingers neatly folded in front of him, could scare the military recruiter across the street.

Then I turned to face Mr. Brunner, but he was already leaving. He turned, and smiled kindly, beckoning me forth. Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking at Mrs. Dodds, cutting his eyes between me and her, like he was unsure if this was real.

I looked back up. Mr. Brunner fidgeted with a pen in his hand. He was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall. Okay, I thought. This is Mr. Brunner. He’ll just lecture me about keeping a good record, and I’ll apologize to Nancy or something.

He didn’t seem bothered by anything either, just slightly annoyed as he passed the Roman section. Did he already forget about the water fountain thing? He didn’t see it, as far as I knew. Maybe this was something else entirely?

Mr. Brunner stood in the Greek section now. I stood beside him. We stared together at a group of statues, the Greek Gods. Engraved were all their names on a fake golden plaque.

“You needn’t lash out that way, Mr. Jackson.” I floundered. He did see it. “I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.” Mr. Brunner sighed. I gave the wrong response, didn’t I?

“Young man, there’s no reason to be so stressed. Deep breaths now.” I carefully did as he said, and felt no better.

“Are you relaxed? No cramps? No worries?” I hastily agreed. “Good. That’ll make things go much smoother.”

Then, the weirdest thing happened. He stood up. And the umbrella’s strap broke, and suddenly, wings appeared out of his back, outstretched. The blanket fell to the ground, revealing beastly legs, and a spiked, slithering tail.

My breath caught in my throat.

Mr. Brunner lunged at me, and I narrowly ducked, making him fly into the air, catching himself before he flew into a glass casing.

He tried again, but as I dodged this time, he kept going, and intentionally attacked the statues. He tore off the head of Zeus, then threw it at me like a bowling ball. I hid behind Poseidon as he began to throw darts with purple tips. My head was spinning too fast to register a thing, I was all action.

Sweat began to form at my forehead as I ducked and weaved each volley of darts, hiding behind each god as they were impaled by Mr. Brunner. When I hid behind the Athena statue, a dart pierced her head, and only then did I fully make sense of it. Those weren’t darts, those were spikes. From Mr. Brunner’s tail. He had a tail with detachable spikes. Of course he did.

Luckily, Mr. Brunner too seemed to be getting tired, as his attacks slowed. He lunged one more time, but I tried to do that trick that matadors do, and managed to duck just in time for him to go headfirst into that stella he was glaring at earlier.

As he recovered, I hid behind a fancy Roman pillar. But he just sighed. “Mr. Jackson. I applaud you for this great battle. I had hoped you would be much simpler, but I suppose that was a lapse of judgment on my part.”

I heard the breaking of a wall, and a swoop of wings. But I wasn’t sure. Mr. Brunner was much smarter than me, so I wasn’t sure that he would’ve given up that quickly. Sure enough, his familiar chuckle echoed through my ears. “Ah, I must be getting too predictable.” I peeked out from my hiding spot, and saw him flying off into the distance, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a chill of evil in the air, as if he were still watching me.

I stumbled out of the museum. Mrs. Dodds was casually leaning against a wall, eating beef jerky that Mr. Brunner left behind.

Had I imagined the whole thing? I went back outside. It had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, “You’re lucky Mr. Brunner had to leave early.” I said, “What?” “Got some call from the superintendent, or whatever. You won’t be so lucky next time.

I asked Grover where Mr. Brunner went. He said, “Weren’t you there?” But he paused first, and he wouldn’t look at me, so I thought he was messing with me. “Not funny, man,” I told him. “This is serious.” Thunder boomed overhead. “I’m serious Percy. He just left for retirement.”

What was going on?

Chapter 2: Socks Shouldn’t Predict the Future

Chapter Text

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This 24/7 hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus was entirely convinced of something I knew wasn’t true.

The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, had retired in the middle of the field trip, and had left early, flying away to be with his family in Cyprus or something. Well they got a third of it right.

Every so often I would ask: “What happened to Mr. Brunner again?”, just to try and trip them up. But they would always just casually tell me how he was doing, or that they sent him cards. It got so bad I almost believed them. Almost. But Grover couldn’t fool me. When I asked him, he would hesitate, then claim the exact same thing. But I knew he was leaving something out.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum. I didn’t have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mr. Brunner with a spiked tail and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

The freak weather continued, which didn’t help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy.

One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year. I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time.

My grades slipped from Cs to Ds. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class. Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn’t even sure what it meant, but it sounded good. The headmaster sent my mom an email the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine. I was homesick. I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious stepfather and his stupid poker parties. And yet, there were things I’d miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. I’d miss Grover, who’d been a good friend, even if he was a little strange.

I worried how he’d survive next year without me. I was three steps from his specialized nurses’ office when I heard Grover mutter inside the office. “...worried about Percy, sir.” I froze. I’m not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking about you to himself. I took a peek. His phone was on! But weren’t they all without electricity? He wasn’t even looking at the phone, or talking to it. Rather, he stared straight ahead, eyes fixated on something in front of him. I inched closer. “. . . alone this summer,” Grover was saying. “I mean, a manticore in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too.” “We would only make matters worse by rushing him,” A voice on the other side said. “We need the boy to mature more.” “But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline.”

“Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can.” “Sir, he saw him..” “His imagination,” The other voice insisted. “The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that.” “Sir, I . . . I can’t fail in my duties again.”

Grover’s voice was choked with emotion. “You know what that would mean.” “You haven’t failed, Grover,” The voice on the other side said kindly. “We should’ve sent Argus with you. Now let’s just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall.”

A pen in my back pocket dropped out and hit the floor with a clink. All went silent. My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall. A ray of light that I hadn’t noticed emerged across the tinted glass of the infirmary door, the colors of a rainbow, which didn’t make sense, as rain typically has to clear up before those appear.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside. A few seconds later I heard a slow clop, like hooves, then a sound like a goat bleating right outside my door. A horned figure paused in front of the glass, then moved on. A bead of sweat trickled down my neck. I made my way back up to the dorm. Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he’d been there all night. “Hey,” he said, bleary-eyed. “You going to be ready for this test?” I didn’t answer. “You look awful.” He frowned. “Is everything okay?” “Just . . . tired.” I turned so he couldn’t read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn’t understand what I’d heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I’d imagined the whole thing. But one thing was clear: Grover was talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger. The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour pre-algebra exam, my eyes swimming with all the possible mistakes I made. On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase. The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of nobodies.

They asked me what I’d be doing this summer and I told them I lied, and said I was going to Hollywood. Hurrah, hurrah, all the boys were somewhat impressed. Like I’d ever get to Hollywood. They patted me on the back, and I went my own way. The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to. He’d booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Phaethon Service Bus as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.
During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he’d always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen.

Before, I’d always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the bus. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I said, “Looking for a manticore to fly by?” Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. “Wha-what do you mean?” I confessed about eavesdropping on him and that other voice the night before the exam. Grover’s eye twitched. “How much did you hear?” “Oh . . . not much. What’s the summer solstice deadline?” He winced. “Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about our Latin teacher turning into a monster. . .” “Grover."

"And I was telling a counselor that maybe you were overstressed or something, because Mr. Brunner just left for Monaco, and . . .”

“Grover, you’re a really, really bad liar. Also, it was Cyprus last time.” His ears turned pink. From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. “Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer.” The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood
Keeper
Half-Blood Hill
Long Island, New York
(800) 009-0009

“What’s Half..” “Don’t say it aloud!” he yelped. “That’s my, um . . . summer address.” My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I’d never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

“Okay,” I said glumly. “So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion.” He nodded. “Or . . . or if you need me.” “Why would I need you?” It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to the base of his throat. “Look, Percy, the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect you.” I stared at him. All year long, I’d gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I’d lost sleep worrying that he’d get beaten up next year without me.

And here he was acting like he was the one who defended me. “Grover,” I said, “what exactly are you protecting me from?” There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Yet everything seemed a lot sunnier as we stepped out, like, painfully so.

The driver gave a hearty chuckle. After a few minutes digging around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that the few kids on board, including us, would have to get off. He muttered something about ‘her overusing the engine during the night shift’, and continued working. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else. We were on a stretch of country road. No place you’d notice if you didn’t break down there.

On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand. The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice.

There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks I’d ever seen. I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them.

The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn. All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me. I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching. “Grover?” I said. “Hey, man-” “Tell me they’re not looking at you. They are, aren’t they?” “Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?” “Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all.” The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors, gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

“We’re getting on the bus,” he told me. “Come on.” “What?” I said. “It’s a thousand degrees in there.” “Come on!” He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back. Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me.

The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for. Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver rolled up his sleeves and wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. It was as bright as the sun with how much heat was emanating from it. And I didn’t wanna know how he managed to hold the whole thing by himself.

The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life. The passengers cheered. “Darn right!” yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his Phoenix Suns hat.

If he hadn’t tied up his blonde hair, it surely would’ve been completely covered in oil, like his overalls. “Everybody back on board!” Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I’d caught the flu.

Grover didn’t look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering. “Grover?” “Yeah?” “What are you not telling me?” He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. “Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?”

“You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They’re not like . . . Mr. Brunner, are they?” His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than a lion man with darts. He said, “Just tell me what you saw.” “The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn.” He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might’ve been crossing himself, but it wasn’t.

It was something else, something almost, older. He said, “You saw her snip the yarn.” “Yeah. So?” But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

“This is not happening,” Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. “I don’t want this to be like the last time.” “What happened last time?” “Always middle school. They never get past 9th.” “Grover,” I said, because he was really starting to scare me.

“What are you talking about?” “Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me.” This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could. “Is this like a superstition or something?” I asked.

No answer.

“Grover, that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?” He looked at me mournfully, like he was already deciding what engraving would suit me best.

Okay, I’ll be frank: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal. I know, I know. It’s mean. But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was a corpse, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "They never get past 9th?" What was I meant to do?

Whenever he got upset, Grover's bladder acted up, so I wasn't surprised when, as soon as we got off the bus, he made a beeline for the restroom.

Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown. "East One-hundred-and-fourth and First," I told the driver. A word about my mother, before you meet her. Her name is Sally Jackson and she's the best person in the world, which just proves my theory that the best people have the rottenest luck.

Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative writing program.

Then her uncle got sick, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad. I don't have any memories of him, just this scent of sea salt taffy, and while she seems to like him, her descriptions of him always felt fishy.

My mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures. See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret.

Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back. Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea. Sounds to me like he ditched, but I also really would rather he believed he was lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano, who was nice during the dates and the wedding, then showed his true colors as the worst person ever. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe.

He didn’t like that too much. My stepdad, as mentioned, wasn’t exactly the most loyal of husbands, so between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Smelly Gabe treated her, the way he and I got along ...

Well, when I came home it was a good example. I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies.

The television blared FOX News. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet. Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home." "Where's my mom?" "Working," he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months? Gabe had lost a few pounds, surprisingly. Now he was only smelt like a walrus in thrift-store clothes. Guess that means his whacking arm would be stronger. Hurray for me.

He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something. He managed a Verizon phone store in Queens, but he worked from home.

I don't know why he hadn't been ousted from the company long before. But like I said, rotten people get good luck, and good people get rotten luck. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Sharp beer bottles, that really hurt sometimes.

Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "guy secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out. "H-here," I handed him the spare wad of dollars I had. He smirked. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else. So there was no chance of lying to him.

“Glad you see it my way nowadays. Am I right, Teo?" Teo Guy, the nicest of the apartment poker players, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. He never really hung out with Gabe, he just had a crippling gambling addiction. “Let him keep the ones," he said. "The kid needs a break." I almost wanted to thank him, but that never really went over well with Gabe.

"Am I right? " Gabe repeated. Teo scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys, named Eddie and Karl, were clearly cheating while Gabe was distracted. "S-sorry for interrupting." "You better be, son!" he shouted after me. "Knock next time, ey sport?" I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room.

During school months, it was Gabe's "study." He didn't study anything in there except the stuff on his laptop, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home. Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mr. Brunner, or the sound of the darts flying through the air and towards my head. But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic, how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him.

A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone, something, was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, claws scraping across the winding hallway Then I heard my mom's voice. "Percy?" She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted. My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room.

Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

"Oh, Percy." She hugged me tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas!" Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central.

She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home. We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the Berry Blue Jelly Bellies, she ran her hand through her hair and demanded to know everything.

She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was I doing all right? I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her. From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally, how about some bean dip, huh?" I sighed.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire. But I learned long ago to not mention anything to Gabe. I think I still had some bruises. For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time.

I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad. Until that trip to the museum …

"What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my conscience, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?" "No, Mom." I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mr. Brunner and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me. "I have a surprise for you," she said. "We're going to the beach." My eyes widened. "Montauk?" "Three nights, same cabin." "When?" She smiled. "As soon as I get changed."

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?" I wanted to beg him to let us go, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was dealing with it fine.

We would get out of here. "I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip." Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?" "I knew it," I muttered. "He won't let us go." "Of course he will," my mom said evenly.

"Your stepfather is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough for a seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit, smiling. "Sounds great, babe. Oh and kid, just doubled your college money. You're welcome." Considering last year he had fourthed it, I didn’t feel too grateful. He went back to his game. "Thank you, Gabe." my mom said.

"Percy, once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes, the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride, as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air. But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken.

She ruffled my hair and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip. An hour later we were ready to leave. Gabe took a break from his poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept giving us compliments, saying how much he’d miss us. I’m glad he thought so. A nice sentiment. And hey, this time it only took me ten minutes to remember he was only talking to my mom and his car.

"Not a scratch on this car, kiddo," he warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Or you know what happens." Like I'd be the one driving. I didn't stay long enough to watch him go. I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it. Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I loved the place. We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine.

We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work. I guess I should explain the blue food.

See, Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time.

But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop.

I wish I could say this was called a rebellious streak, but she took his name at the wedding, but I only call her by her maiden name, Jackson. She made sure that I got the name on any school records too, supposedly to avoid bullying.

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk, my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, and as usual, I tried to pick it apart to find the truth.

What was real, and what was her reminiscing about a better time?

"He was certainly something, Percy," she said. "Tall, strong, powerful. And was quite stubborn, like you. You have your looks for him, save for the beard.” She giggled.

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. I wonder what he would think." Probably something like, ‘who the hell is this loser?’ I noted mentally she never talked about his personality.

"How old was I?" I asked. "I mean ... when he left?" She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin." "But... he knew me as a baby." "No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born."

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember ... something about my father. Fishy. Salty. I had always thought he was just a fling. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true.

Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me ... I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He'd left us. What a loser.

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?" She pulled a marshmallow from the fire. "I don't know, honey." Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something." "Because you don't want me around?"

I regretted the words as soon as they were out. My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Percy, no. I-I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

"Because I'm not normal," I said. "You say that as if it's a bad thing, Percy. But you don't realize how important you are. I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe." "Safe from what?" She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me. All the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that, a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put a tarp over the pool while I was still inside. My mom was horrified, until they checked, and saw my little toddler lungs had survived naptime.

In every single school, something creepy had happened, something unsafe, and I was forced to move. I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mr. Brunner at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that a lion man threw glowing darts at me.

But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that. "I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could," my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy, the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it."

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?" "Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp." My head was spinning. Why would my dud of a dad, who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born, talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I-I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good." "For good? But if it's only a summer camp ..." She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

That night I had a vivid dream. It was storming on the beach, and three giant, beastly animals, a black dog with red eyes, white horse with blue eyes, and a golden eagle with white eyes, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf.

The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle's wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. Just as I saw all the animals collide, a hand reached out from the earth, pale and bony, and then-No! I woke up with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There were no beasts on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane." I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice, someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door. My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... he wasn't exactly Grover. "Searching all night," he gasped. "What were you thinking?" My mother looked at me in terror, not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Percy," she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?" I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. "O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" was what his lips read, but all I heard was “Oh Zeus and the other gods!”

"It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?" I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly.

I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on,and where his legs should be ... where his legs should be ... My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Percy. Tell me now!" I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mr, Brunner, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go! " Grover ran for the Camaro, but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked. Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were hooves.

Chapter 3: That Football Player Has Horns

Chapter Text

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the windshield. I didn’t know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas. Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I’d gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants.

But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo, lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal. All I could think to say was, “So, you and my mom…know each other?”

Grover’s eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. “Not exactly,” he said. “I mean, we’ve never met in person. But she knew I was watching you.” “Watching me?” “Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn’t faking being your friend,” he added hastily.

“I am your friend.” “Um, what are you, exactly?” “That doesn’t matter right now.” “It doesn’t matter? From the waist down, my best friend is half donkey” Grover let out a sharp, throaty “Blaa-ha-ha!” I’d heard him make that sound before, but I’d always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

“Goat!” he cried. “What?” “I’m a goat, kinda!.” “You just said it didn’t matter.” “Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!” “Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like, the myths?”

“Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was the monster Mr. Brunner a myth?” “So you admit he did turn into a monster!” “Of course.” “Then why-” “The less you knew, the fewer monsters you’d attract,” Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "Oh sure, buddy. Because that worked perfectly!"

“We use cover ups. Had a week's notice planned out for any teacher that might be a monster. People are willing to believe anything if you push hard enough.”

"We hoped you’d think that manticore was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are.” “Who I, wait a minute, what do you mean?” The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail. “Percy,” my mom said, “There’s too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety.”

“Safety from what? Who’s after me?” “Oh, nobody much,” Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. “Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions.” “Grover!” “Sorry, Mrs. Jackson. Could you drive faster, please?” I tried to wrap my mind around what was happening, but I couldn’t do it. I knew this wasn’t a dream. I had no imagination. "Can you all just tell me what's going on!?"

My mom shook her head, or maybe that was just the bumping of the car as we were no longer on a road.

“Where are we going?” I asked. “The summer camp I told you about.” My mother’s voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared.

“The place your father wanted to send you.” “The place you didn’t want me to go.” “Please, dear,” my mother begged. “This is hard enough. Try to understand. You’re in danger.” “Because some old ladies cut yarn.” “Those weren’t old ladies,” Grover said. “Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means, the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you’re about to . . . when someone’s about to die.”

“Whoa. You said ‘you.’” “No I didn’t. I said ‘someone.’” “You meant ‘you.’ As in me.” “I meant you, like ‘someone.’ Not you, you.” “Boys!” my mom said. She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she’d swerved to avoid, a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm. "Please, Grover! Just tell me exactly what's going on anymore! There's some guy after me with his minions? Right? What else!?"

The shape moved closer.

“What was that?” I asked. “We’re almost there,” my mother said, ignoring my question. I was getting really sick and tired of people doing that. “Another mile. Please. Please. Please.” I didn’t know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive. Outside, nothing but rain and darkness, the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mr. Brunner and the moment when he’d changed into the monster. Where was Grover then, huh?

There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom, and our car exploded. I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver’s seat and said, “Ow.” “Percy!” my mom shouted. “I’m okay…” I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn’t dead. The car hadn’t really exploded. We’d swerved into a ditch. Our driver’s-side doors were wedged in the mud.

The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in. Lightning. That was the only explanation. We’d been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. “Grover!” He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you’re my best friend and I don’t want you to die! Then he groaned “Fooooood,” and I knew there was hope.

“Percy,” my mother said, “we have to…” Her voice faltered. I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my brain hurt. It was a huge guy, in Buffalo Bulls football armor. Wait, what? This guy was the one we were running from!?

His eyes began to glow. I swallowed hard. “Who is-” “Percy,” my mother said, deadly serious. “Get out of the car.” My mother threw herself against the driver’s-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too.

I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might’ve been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking. “Climb out the passenger’s side!” my mother told me. “Percy, you have to run. Do you see that big tree?” “What?” Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree–sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill. “That’s the property line,” my mom said. “Get over that hill and you’ll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don’t look back. Yell for help. Don’t stop until you reach the door.” “Mom, you’re coming too.” Her face was pale, her eyes as sad as when she looked at the ocean. “No!” I shouted. “You are coming with me. Help me carry Grover.” “Foood!” Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the football gear kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, he removed his helmet. And horns began growing from his forehead, glowing just light enough to make it seem like headlights. And that gave just enough lighting to see the rest of his face. One not of a man, but a bull.

“He doesn’t want us,” my mother told me. “He wants you. Besides, I can’t cross the property line.” “But…” “We don’t have time, Percy. Go. Please.” I got mad, then,mad at my mother, at Grover the goat, at the thing with horns that was lumbering toward us slowly and deliberately like a bull. I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain.

“We’re going together. Come on, Mom.” “I told you-” “Mom! I am not leaving you. Help me with Grover.” I didn’t wait for her answer. I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn’t have carried him very far if my mom hadn’t come to my aid. Together, we draped Grover’s arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist-high grass. Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster.

He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs so buff it was like those videos that made Gabe insecure, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore the armor like it was custom made, and while the image of him going to a tailor was funny, the rest of his body was too scary to consider funny. Coarse brown hair started at about his thighs, and got thicker as it reached his shoulders. His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns, enormous black-white horns with points you just couldn’t get from an electric sharpener.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us. But he couldn’t be real. I blinked the rain out of my eyes. “That’s-” “Pasiphaë’s son,” my mother said. “I wish I’d known how badly they want to kill you.” “But he’s the Min-” “Don’t say his name,” she warned. “Names have power.” Yeah, I didn't think this guy could get any more powerful.

The pine tree was still way too far, a hundred yards uphill at least. I glanced behind me again. The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows, or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn’t sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

“Food?” Grover moaned. “Shhh,” I told him. “Mom, what’s he doing? Doesn’t he see us?” “His sight and hearing are terrible,” she said. “He goes by smell. But he’ll figure out where we are soon enough.” As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe’s Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning.

He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded. “Not a scratch”, I remembered Gabe saying. Well, doesn't my life just suck?

“Percy,” my mom said. “When he sees us, he’ll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way, directly sideways. He can’t change directions very well once he’s charging. Do you understand?” “How do you know all this?” “I’ve been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me.”

“Keeping me near you? But-” Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill. He’d smelled us. The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn’t getting any lighter. The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he’d be on top of us. My mother must’ve been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. “Go, Percy! Separate! Remember what I said.”

I didn’t want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right, it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest. The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn’t work. I could never outrun this thing.

So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side. The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

We’d reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We’d never make it. The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

“Run, Percy!” she told me. “I can’t go any farther. Run!” But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she’d told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air. “Mom!” She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: “Go!”

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his eyes, sniffed once, then coughed in disgust. He held back his arm, still clinging around my mother’s neck, and threw her into the ditch. I didn’t even hear a thud. Just silence. The rain had seemingly stopped, like it too was shocked. “No!” Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs, the same rush of energy I’d gotten when Mr. Brunner threw the darts. The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass.

The monster hunched over, snuffling my best friend, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too. I couldn’t allow that. I held a fighting position in my red rain jacket. Maybe he would charge at me like I was a bullfighter. “Hey!” I screamed, running to one side of the monster. “Hey, stupid! Ground beef!” The monster turned toward me, clenching his fists. I had an idea, a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. After all, a heavy hunk of junk like this couldn’t possibly float, right?

I put my back to the hill, my back to the ocean. There I was, thinking I’d slide out of the way at the last moment. But it didn’t happen like that. The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge. Time slowed down. My legs tensed. I couldn’t jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, and hit him on the head like Mario.

How did I do that?

I didn’t have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster charged towards me, the monster shook himself around and bucked me down the hill even farther. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I’d bite my own tongue off. “Food!” Grover moaned.

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I stood still, right in front of him. He flung himself at me, and I braced for impact, then went down. I slid underneath him, and he went charging into the shoreline. He hit a rock at the bottom. He got back up. Uh oh. I tightened my fists, ready for another round.

Suddenly, The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, sent to his knees, then began to get pulled towards the ocean. I looked at his leg, a tendril. It clawed at the rock for stability, but the bull-man was no match. I began to sneak around him, at least around his charge range. I kept my fists clenched.

Then, a tendril sloppily lunged through the air, attaching it to the monster’s horn. It noticed, and tried to pull it off, but as they were already on his arms, it only led to the whole horn coming off, hitting the ground, just at the base of the hill.

The monster cried out, pawing at the wound, before trying to charge again, but it was held in place.

They slithered up the monster’s legs, hooking itself into its armor, piercing its skin. It yelped in pain, and tried to remove it with his fists. But that only led to the liquid clinging to his fists, dragging his arms back so quickly, they looked like they’d snap from his shoulders. It barely managed to move, falling to its stomach.

Thrashing and kicking, a tendril snaked up his uniform, hooked itself around its neck, and dragged into the ocean, while it attempted to escape by crawling away.

I realized he wouldn’t charge anymore, and walked to meet him eye-to-eye, and took the horn. In a rage, or a frenzy, or something else, I plunged it into the monster’s head. Then again, and again, and again.

The monster cried out in pain, as the tendrils held it still.

Eventually, it stopped moving, and I had won. In a last ditch effort from the sky to strike me down, a lightning bolt hit a nearby tree. When I looked back, the monster was gone. The thunder had stopped.

The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. My knees were shaking. My head felt like it was about to break. I felt blood. A lot of blood.

I was weak and scared and trembling. I stumbled up the hill, and looked into the ditch.

Nothing but car parts.

Maybe she was buried under the dirt. That was still bad. But she could still be alive. I wanted to run down there, but there was Grover, still bleeding out, and I couldn't ditch him again, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farmhouse.

I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover, I wasn’t going to let him go. The last thing I remember is collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light.

And the stern faces of an old-looking bearded man and a blonde girl, her hair curled in a single direction.

They both looked down at me, and the girl said, “He’s basically dead. Not strong enough.” “Silence, Annabeth,” the man said. “He’s still conscious. Bring him inside.”

Chapter 4: Horse vs Frat Boy: Checkers

Chapter Text

I woke up to midday sun through my window, a dusty light being cast over my eyes, with three other rays across the room. The final ray illuminated the girl I saw before. She was reading a book: “Talking to Dummies for Smarties”.

When she noticed I was awake, she quickly flipped back to a chapter, read it, and then put the book down. “You drool in your sleep.”

What? My mind was too groggy to comprehend what was happening. I was too tired. What was happening? My mom...oh…right.

I reeled in the cot, croaking out incoherent sounds, even to myself.

She took the book with her as she opened the door and left. A husky grey haired dude who looked like a night shift worker stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes, at least a dozen of them. On his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I finally came to my senses, I stumbled out of my room, the man with eyes watching me carefully, even after I left the room. I collapsed in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance.

The breeze carried the wafting of strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was fine and dandy, but I felt like I was about to die. Everything ached, and my brain felt like it had been ripped from my school, used as a football, then put back again.

On the table beside me stood a lone glass, filled with a drink that looked like honey with ice cubes in it. A blue swirly straw leaned against the edge of the tall glass, with a lemon wedge on the side.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” I turned, and saw Grover leaning on the railing. He held a shoe box, with sorrow written on his face. “You saved my life,” Grover said. “I, well, the least I could do. I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this.”

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap. Inside was a black-and-white bull’s horn, the base jagged from being broken off. I felt nauseous.

Grover shifted uncomfortably. “You’ve been out for two days. How much do you remember?” “My mom. She’s not dead. She isn’t. We never went into the damn ditch. I can still-” He sighed, silently cutting me off. I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky.

The valley was surrounded by overly green hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. It looked like it was always on the edge of bursting aflame. But when I left to find my mom, she'd make it all better.

“I’m sorry,” Grover sniffled. “I’m a failure. I-I’m the worst satyr in the world.” He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

“Oh, Styx!”

Thunder rolled across the clear sky. As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I thought, Well, that settles it. Grover was a satyr. I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I’d find tiny horns on his head.

But I was too confused to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaurs. My mom was probably back at the apartment, dealing with Gabe. It’d explain why she wasn’t in the ditch, she had just left. She had just left, was all.

Grover was still sniffling. The poor satyr, whatever, looked as if he expected to be hit. I said, “It wasn’t your fault.” “Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you.” “And you did.” “But, I still could’ve done better” “You tried, at least.” I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming. “Don’t strain yourself,” Grover said. “Drink up.”

I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting honey. It wasn’t that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. And not just any cookies, my mom’s homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting.

Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. When I got back to her, I’d get to taste the real thing. When I got back.

Before I knew it, I’d drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I’d just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn’t even melted. “Was it good?” Grover asked. I nodded. “What did it taste like?” He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

“Sorry,” I said. “I should’ve let you taste it, don't get mad, I'm sorry.” His eyes got wide.

“No! That’s not what I meant. I just wondered.” “Chocolate-chip cookies,” I said. “My mom’s. Homemade.” He sighed. “And how do you feel?” “Better.” “That’s good,” he said. “That’s good. I don’t think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff.”

“What do you mean?” He took the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. “Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.” The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held on to it. I’d paid for that souvenir the hard way.

I wasn’t going to let it go. As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must’ve been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn’t process everything I was seeing.

The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture, an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena, except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs played volleyball.

Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover’s were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail; some of their horses had wings. Must suck to be those non-winged horses.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who’d wanted to leave me to die was leaning on the edge. Great.

The man facing me was gangly and tall. He wore a purple Hawiian shirt with green grapes and silver dolphins imprinted, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. The colors really clashed with his neon yellow jorts, and the pink shaded sunglasses that laid atop his beer helmet.

He would’ve fit right in at one of Gabe’s poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could’ve out-gambled even my stepfather. And, on that note, he actually looked remarkably similar to the face on all those beer crates Gabe ordered

“That’s Mr. D,” Grover murmured to me. “He’s the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that’s Annabeth Chase. She’s just a camper, but she’s been here longer than just about anybody. And that’s Chiron.” He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in a wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning hair, the scraggly beard. At first, I thought he was the monster that attacked me a ways back. But then I got a better look at him. He was like Mr. Brunner’s great, great, great, grandfather. His tweed jacket was a deep navy blue, unlike Mr. Brunner’s lighter blue, and his hair was so white he looked albino. His eyes were much older, with severe eyebags and wrinkles.

The old man turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint Mr. Brunner sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B, but without the delight in seeing our downcast faces. They must've been related, or something.

“Ah, Percy,” he said. “Come, sit down. Let us play checkers.” He gestured to a chair to the right of Mr. D, who sat there with a dopey grin. He opened his mouth, and the smell of a frat house came out. “Yo, my man! Howzit going?” He sounded like he was about to explain cryptocurrency to me.

“You look familiar." He chuckled. “Eh, probably. Bet your step-parent knows me well. They tend to favor the bottle, you know?” I bit my cheek.

I scooted a little farther away from him.

“Annabeth?” Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl. She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. “This young lady is named Annabeth. Annabeth, this is Percy Jackson.” Annabeth said, “Hello.”

She was probably my age, maybe a year older, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a surfer chick would look like, except her eyes. They were dark gray, like a looming feeling of dread. I got the feeling she’d be trouble for me.

“You better pull your weight.” Then, she hopped the railing, and ran down the lawn. I pointed at Chiron. “You look a lot like a guy who tried to kill me.” Chiron sighed. “Yes, Grover told me all about your incident. The manticore truly does love imitation, and he happened to take on my appearance to get in the role easier. I do apologize for not sending some more effective satyrs after you.”

Hope Grover wasn’t in earshot. Poor guy already felt terrible. “Okay.” Totally confused, I looked at the director. “And Mr. D. Does that stand for something?” Mr. D stopped playing. He shot two finger guns at me. “Dionys-” Chiron coughed into his hand, cutting off the director. “Oh. Right. Sorry. Ya, sorry pal. Rules for gods like me are craaazy.”

God? I looked at Grover who sighed, then Chiron, who just facepalmed. It took a second for Mr. D to register what he had said, who then chuckled. “Whoops, wasn’t s’posed to tell you that, huh?”

I scrolled through the myths Mr. Brunner had taught me before he became a monster, and recalled Dionysus. This couldn’t be him, could it?. This guy was the ultimate frat boy, not a deity. But then again, I had always assumed the Minotaur was a giant cow man, instead of a Chicago Bulls football player.

No, this was all some weird impractical joke. “You do know how to play checkers, right?” Mr. D eyed me suspiciously. “Yeah.” Who didn’t? “Great start bud! It is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. It warms my heart to know even the youth nowadays know all about it.” Was that the thing warming your heart? I was sure it’d be the alcohol.

“Wait,” I told Mr. D. “You’re telling me there’s such a thing as God.” “Ehhh-” Mr. D shrugged. “God, capital G, God. Couldn’t tell ya. I’m not really into all that metaphysical mumbo jumbo.” Wasn't this guy a god? Or at least, deluded into thinking he was a god? I thought cults were all about spirits.

“But gods, plural, as in, pals like me. That’s a smaller matter.” “Smaller?” “Yeah, totally. The gods you kiddies learned all about.” “Zeus,” I said. “Hera. Apollo. You mean those myths.” And there it was again, distant thunder on a cloudless day.

“Young man, I’d really encourage you to respect the names of the gods.” Chiron gently scolded. “Referring to them as myths is extremely disrespectful. How would you feel if your existence was relegated to nothing but a folktale?”

Mr. D swayed his hand, in a lazy attempt to cut the tension. “Cut the kid some slack, Chiron. S’not his fault we’re being fazed out. It just happens sometimes.”

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine. My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.

“Mr. D,” he warned, “you’re still on probation.”

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. “Aw, dang it.” He looked at the sky and yelled, “Old habits! Sorry!” More thunder. Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet co*ke. He whined unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to playing checkers with Chiron. “My pa’s such a pain.”

“What?” I managed to mumble out, staring at the co*ke like it was from outer space. Chiron sighed. “Mr. D is on probation for having a rather staunch….gathering on Olympus.” Olympus? Oh right, this guy thought he was a Greek god. This place must be a cult. Everyone’s brainwashed. It’s the only explanation for everything going on. It had to be. And that 'Minotaur' was just another deranged disgraced football star.

“Delusional much?” He turned to look at me, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this frat boy was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I stumbled in my chair. He snapped his fingers, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Hey, Johnson, you good? No way my mug’s that ugly, right?” I gulped. “N-nevermind. Sorry sir.” Mr. D just raised an eyebrow. “Huh? What for?” Was that an accident? No, there was no way. That had to be intentional, right? Or was he that powerful?

“I’m getting antsy,” Mr. D said. “I’ll pregame before the party tonight. But first, Grover, we’re gonna have a chat about your bad handling of Percy. Not cool, man.” Grover’s face beaded with sweat. “Y-yes, sir.” Mr. D turned to me. “Cabin eleven, my man. Hope you have a good time.” He gave me a wink and a thumbs up, then left to the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

“Will Grover be okay?” I asked Chiron. Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. “Mr. D is a swell man, but often gets carried away with his constant rambunctious misadventures. And after the satyrs were assigned to work for him, he never really treats them with the most respect, especially down here. He’s usually more forgiving when on Mount Olympus.”

“Mount Olympus,” I said. “You’re really telling me there’s a palace there?” “Well now, there’s Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there’s the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It’s still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do.” Oh my god, I’m in a cult. Why would my deadbeat dad want me to go here?

“You mean the Greek gods are here? Like, in America? Why?” “Well, it’s a long story, as most things are. The gods were essentially abandoned by their followers in Greece and Italy, so they, just like the pilgrims, moved to the Americas, and tried to establish themselves as prominent deities. They started off very weak, initially just small cults among the pilgrimages. But, the gods were in such need for followers, they came down to Earth to try and communicate. They, as gods do, had children. And those first few children founded this campsite. They later employed me and allowed Mr. D to caretake the place. And thus, we all arrived here at some point or another”

It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron’s ‘we’, as if I were part of some club. “Who are you, Chiron? Who-who am I?” Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible.

He was paralyzed from the waist down, right? Or was that another lie? “Who are you?” he mused. “Well, that’s the question we all want answered, isn’t it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s’mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate.” And then he did rise from his wheelchair.

But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn’t move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn’t underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur.

And the wheelchair wasn’t a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must’ve been magic, because there’s no way it could’ve held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of Chiron, smoothly grafted to the horse’s trunk. “What a relief,” the centaur said. “I’d been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let’s meet the other campers.”

Chapter 5: Fear Me, For I Control the Toilets

Chapter Text

Yeah, I think I had to admit this whole thing was real by now. Once I got over the fact that the manager here was a horse, we had a nice tour, though I was careful not to walk behind him. I’d done pooper-scooper patrol in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade a few times, and, I’m sorry, I did not trust Chiron’s back end the way I trusted his front.

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another asked, “Is that a new kid?” Most of the campers were older than me.

Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CHB T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. The implications were frankly gross. I wasn’t normally shy, but the way they stared at me made me uncomfortable. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something.

I looked back at the farmhouse. It was a lot bigger than I’d realized. Four stories tall, sky blue with white trim, like an upscale seaside resort. I was checking out the brass eagle weather vane on top when something caught my eye, a shadow in the window of the attic. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched. What, was there another Minotaur around?

“What’s up there?” I asked Chiron. He looked where I was pointing, and his smile faded. “Just the attic.” “Somebody lives there?” “No,” he said with finality. “Not a single living thing.” I got the feeling he was being truthful. But I was also sure something had moved that curtain.

“Come along, Percy,” Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. “Lots to see.” I can't say I trusted this guy, but it's not like I had a choice at the moment. We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

Chiron told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. “It pays our expenses,” he explained. “And the strawberries take almost no effort.” He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around.

Hurrah, child labor.

It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead. I watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was causing lines of bugs to leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire.

I wondered if Grover could work that kind of magic with music. I wondered if he was still inside the farmhouse, getting hazed by Mr. D or something. “Grover won’t get in too much trouble, will he?” I asked Chiron. “I mean, he's a good guy. Really.”

“I might agree with you,” Chiron said. “But it is not my place to judge. Mr. D must decide. I’m afraid he might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there’s the unfortunate death of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. Mr. D might question whether this shows any courage on Grover’s part.”

I wanted to protest. None of what happened was Grover’s fault. Also, my mom wasn't dead. I also felt really, really guilty. If I hadn’t given Grover the slip at the bus station, he might not have gotten in trouble. “He’ll get a second chance, won’t he?” Chiron winced.

“I’m afraid that was Grover’s second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He’s still so small for his age.”

“How old is he?” “Oh, I don’t keep track. Though Dionysus had him employed for fourteen years.” “What! And he’s still in sixth grade?” “He was just sent to watch over you.”Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career.” “That’s not fair,” I said. “What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?” Chiron looked away quickly. “Let’s move along, shall we?”

As we got closer, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Chiron said, “The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed.” “Stocked with what?” I asked. “Armed with what?” “You’ll see. Capture the flag on Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?” “My own what?” “No,” Chiron said. “I don’t suppose you do. I think a size small will do. I’ll visit the armory later.”

I wanted to ask what kind of summer camp had an armory, but there was too much else to think about, so the tour continued. We saw the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn’t seem to like very much), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

“Sword and spear fights?” I asked. “Cabin challenges and all that,” he explained. “Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there’s the mess hall.” Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls. “Now, I assume you’re worried about rain and getting wet..” He started, but I just raised an eyebrow. “Um…no? How does rain get someone wet?” What was this guy talking about? Was there some Greek rain that magically made people wet? Freaky.

Chiron looked at me as if I’d gone a little weird. I decided to drop the subject. Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side.

And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I’d ever seen. Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass.

Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at. They all faced a common area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined fire pit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A tree nymph was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick, trying her best not to get burned. The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front.

Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peaco*cks. “Zeus and Hera?” I guessed. “Correct,” Chiron said. “Their cabins look empty.” “Several of the cabins are, but no one ever stays in one or two.” Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot.

Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians. But why would some be empty? I stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three. It wasn’t high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I peeked inside the open doorway and Chiron said, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that!” Before he could pull me back, I caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk.

The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely, I was glad when Chiron put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Come along, Percy.” Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red, a real tacky paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar’s head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared.

The loudest was a girl in her early teens. She wore a size XXXL T-shirt that absolutely did not fit her, hidden under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and platinum blonde instead of red.

I kept walking, trying to stay clear of Chiron’s hooves. “We haven’t seen any other centaurs,” I observed. “No,” said Chiron sadly. “My kinsmen are wild and barbaric folk, I’m afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won’t see any here.”

“You said your name was Chiron. Are you really him?” He smiled down at me. “The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am.” “But, shouldn’t you be dead?” Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. “Ah, technically speaking, I am considered a monster. When I die, I end up coming back, as all monsters do.”

“Wait, so the Minotaur-” “Yes. He will return. But do not fear. It could be centuries before you see him again.” I thought about managing a bunch of superpowered children for three thousand years. It wouldn’t have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list. “So how long have you been alive to work here?” “Hm, around thirty years, oh, look,” he said. “Annabeth is waiting for us.”

The blond girl I’d met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven. When we reached her, she looked at me critically, and I could feel my mood get worse.

I tried to see what she was reading, but I couldn’t make out the title. I thought my dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn’t even English. The letters looked Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek.

There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book. “Annabeth,” Chiron said, “I have a masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?” “Yes, sir.” “Cabin eleven,” Chiron told me, gesturing toward the doorway. “Make yourself at home.” Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most normal. How fitting.

The threshold was old, the brown paint barely covering the crevices of the bricks. Over the doorway was one of those doctor’s symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call it? A caduceus. Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds.

Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center. Chiron didn’t go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him they all stood and bowed respectfully. “Well, then,” Chiron said. “Good luck, Percy. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He galloped away toward the archery range. I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They weren’t bowing anymore. They were staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

I knew this routine. I’d gone through it at enough schools. “Mission complete. I’m outta here” Annabeth scoffed. Some of the kids laughed at her on the way out. I sensed drama. “H-hey, I’m Percy Jackson.” My anxiety was killing me.

A handsome blonde guy, who looked about nineteen, approached me. He looked pretty cool. He was tall and muscular, with short cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different-colored clay beads.

The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash. “Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven. I’m Luke Castellan.”

He spoke in a light southern accent, and raised a hand for me to shake. I awkwardly shook it, but he just grinned and shook me so hard I almost tripped.

“Regular or undetermined?” somebody asked. I didn’t know what to say, but I felt like I should say: “Undetermined.” Half the cabin cheered, the others rolled their eyes. The blonde guy chuckled. “Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there. I’ll be your counselor for now.”

“For now?” I asked. “You’re undetermined,” Luke explained patiently. “They don’t know what cabin to put you in, so you’re here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our dad, is the god of travelers. You can sleep with the rest of the undetermined’s, on the left side.”

I looked at the tiny section of floor they’d given me. I had nothing to put there to mark it as my own, no luggage, no clothes, no sleeping bag. Just the Minotaur’s horn. I thought about setting that down, but then I remembered that Hermes was also the god of thieves. Then again, my company seemed just as weary of the right side as I did, so I wasn’t in too bad of a spot.

I looked around at the campers’ faces. “How long will I be here?” I asked. “Good question,” Luke said. “Until you’re determined.” Yeah, I felt like that wasn’t that good of a question. “Okay, second question, how old are you?” Luke fiddled with a tag on his jeans. “15.”

“Alright then, last question, why am I here? Like, what determines it?” My side of the cabin grumbled, and an uttering of ‘here we go’s’ was ushered, like they had asked the exact same question and had gotten the same answer.

Luke also seemed like he was preparing to say the same thing for the upteenth time. “You don’t just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or, your parent.” He took a deep breath. Oh, that was the intro to the speech, wasn’t it?

“We all have two parents, Percy. Or, we at least had two parents.” I flinched. Some others shared the sentiment. “One, we might’ve known for a while, might’ve known our whole lives. But they aren’t really the biggest of deals. Rather, it’s the parent we never saw that’s the big deal. That parent; mom, dad, whatever, is a god.” He paused for a second, letting it sink in. I blinked. “The gods essentially came down to earth, had us, and then bailed. Leaving us here as demigods. So, uh. Yeah. Congrats, Percy. You’re one of us.”

I blinked again. Wow. Okay then.

I was reeling with so many questions I didn’t know where to start. I just gave them a thumbs up, then walked off. I’d come back when the night came, but for now, I wanted to wander around.

“Hey there, buuuud~”

A gruff voice called, and I turned around to face them. I looked over. The big girl from the intimidating red cabin was sauntering toward us. She had another girl and a guy behind her, all muscular and mean looking like her, all wearing camo jackets. I wondered if that was the merchandise of a club they were all in. The Camo Kids, or something.

“Lemme guess-” My stupid mouth began to run on its own. “You’re a big red female dog, so your patron must be Clifford.” “Clifford isn’t a god, moron.” I don’t think they understood the insult. “Then who’s your daddy, hm?”

The lead girl puffed out her chest. She spoke in a slightly southern accent, and it was almost soft, with how patronizing it was. “The name’s Clarisse La Rue. My papa’s Ares, god of war.” Probably should’ve seen that one coming. Wait, that means they were gonna pick a fight with me. Uh oh.

Clarisse growled. “We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, bud.”

“Percy.”

“Whatever bud. Let’s go.” I was the new kid, I guess. I had to earn my own rep. I decided not to stab her with the Minotaur horn, as that was probably illegal.

Before I knew it, Clarisse had me by the neck and was dragging me toward a cinder-block building that I knew immediately was the bathroom.

I was kicking and punching. I’d been in plenty of fights before, but this big girl Clarisse had hands like iron. I saw Annabeth watching me from the sidelines, not helping at all. Fun.

She dragged me into the girls’ bathroom. There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other. It smelled just like any public bathroom, and I was thinking, as much as I could think with Clarisse ripping my hair out, that if this place belonged to the gods, they should’ve been able to afford classier johns.

Clarisse’s friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the intelligence I’d used to kill the Minotaur, but it just wasn’t there. But then I remembered, I wasn’t thinking when those tentacles held the cow in place, so maybe this cow here would face the same power if I just turned my brain off.

Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse’s grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me.

I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall.

Then, it got worse. The tiles started to shake, like a mini-earthquake. She started to get bumped up into the air, and I wasn’t doing any better, so I tried to remember what the hippie park ranger at the Central Park Community Center used to tell me to do, but I drew a blank.

She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back.

The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the Camo Kids, leaving them coughing on the floor. The entire bathroom was flooded. The outside, and Annabeth by proxy, hadn’t been spared. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.

So even a demigod’s skin could get wet. But not mine. What was up with people’s biology? Why were they all so weird?

As per usual, I was not wet. So, I just smiled at the bullies, waved as I walked by them, kicked Clarisse in the leg as I went, and speed walked out of there before they could get to their feet and beat me up when we weren’t close to water. I guess I’d have to stay by a lake at all times, then.

Annabeth stared at me. I couldn’t tell whether she was just grossed out or angry at me for dousing her. I wanted to laugh at her, but I think I had made enough enemies.

“Whatcha thinking?”

“I’m thinking,” she said, “that I want you on my team to capture the flag.”

Chapter 6: Gods Don't Deserve KFC

Chapter Text

Word of the bathroom incident spread immediately. Wherever I went, campers pointed at me and murmured something about toilet water. Or maybe they were just staring at Annabeth, who was still pretty much dripping wet.

She went to her cabin (Cabin 6, I made a mental note of) to dry off, and told me to stay right where I was. So naturally, I left after 15 minutes. It works for teachers, it should work for judgmental campers.

I wandered to the many things the camp had to offer. A metal working shop (I never liked metallic stuff, it rusted too quickly when I held it), the arts-and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn’t get to the top fast enough.

Eventually she ran up to me. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes, hm?” “No, no I could not.” She sighed. “It wasn’t my fault.” She looked at me skeptically, and I realized it was my fault. I’d made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures.

I didn’t understand how. But the toilets had responded to me. I had become one with the plumbing. “You need to talk to the Oracle,” Annabeth said. “Who?” “Not who. What. The Oracle. I’ll ask Chiron.”

I stared into the lake, wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once. I wasn’t expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below.

They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend. I didn’t know what else to do. I waved back. “Don’t encourage them,” Annabeth warned. “Naiads are terrible flirts.”

“Naiads,” I repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. “That’s it. I’m bailing.” Annabeth frowned. “Don’t you get it yet? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us.”

That was dumb. I never got attacked at home. Well, at least not by giant football players and flying Latin teachers. “You mean, mentally disturbed kids?” “I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human.”

“Half-human and God,” I said. “Half-god.” Annabeth nodded. “Your father isn’t dead. He’s one of the Olympians.”

I wish what my mom had told me had been true. Why couldn’t it be true?

That’d make more sense. And then I wouldn’t have that nagging feeling in the back of my head, saying it was his fault for abandoning my mom. If he left, at least it’d have been for a good reason.

“Then who’s your dad?”

Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I’d just trespassed on a sensitive subject. “My dad is a professor at West Point,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.”

“So your mom’s the god, right?.”

“Yeah. Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle.”

Okay, I thought. Why not? “And my dad?” “Undetermined,” Annabeth said, “like I told you before. Nobody knows.” “Except my mother. She knew.” “Maybe not. Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”

Well isn’t that just fantastic?

“So I’m stuck here,” I said.

“That’s it? For the rest of my life?”

“It depends,” Annabeth said. “Some campers only stay the summer. If you’re a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you’re probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it’s too dangerous to leave. We’re year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They know we’re dangerous to their lives. They come to kill us. Most of the time, they’ll ignore us until we’re old enough to cause trouble, about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, a surprising amount are prominent names up on Wikipedia. Some don’t even realize they’re demigods. But very, very few are like that.”

“So monsters can’t get in here?” Annabeth shook her head. “Not unless they’re intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside.” “Why would anybody want to summon a monster?”

“Practice fights. Practical jokes.”

“Practical jokes?”

“The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm.” “So you’re a year-rounder?” Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors.

It was just like Luke’s, except Annabeth’s also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring. “I’ve been here since I was seven,” she said. “Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I’ve been here longer than the oldest ones, and they’re in college.”

“Why did you come so young?”

She glared at me. “Felt like it.” That was a lie. I may not be the smartest guy around, but I knew my way around a fib.

“Oh.” I stood there for a minute in uncomfortable silence. “So, I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?”

“It would be suicide, but you could leave, with Mr. D’s or Chiron’s permission. But they wouldn’t give permission until the end of the summer session unless you got a quest.”

“A quest?”

“Happens a lot around here. Gods have small errands for us to run, they call it a quest, and we complete it for them.” “Wait, but they’re gods. Couldn’t they just do it?” “Look, stop questioning it. The quicker you get used to it, the better off you’ll be.”

Yeah, no. I wasn’t just gonna live the rest of my life being a newspaper boy. But she seemed to think this was normal. No use then. I decided to go back to the group in the Hermes Cabin.

As I came in, my side greeted me, as did Luke. Apparently, my washroom escapades had not escaped the ears of my cabin, so chuckles and mentions of Clarisse weren’t lost on me.

I sat down in my corner, and began to talk to Luke, who leaned against the wall. “Back in New York, Grover said something about the summer solstice. Do you have any idea about all that?”

Suddenly, the Hermes cabin was buzzing with conversation. I tried to pick up on as much of it as I could. ‘Of course! The gods are going to throw a party!’ said one guy. ‘I heard Mr. D’s probation will be over.’ a girl murmured. ‘W-what if we all die!?” screeched a particularly jittery boy.

Luke chuckled and shushed everyone, all falling silent. “To be honest with you Percy, none of us really know. I wish I knew. Chiron and Mr. D, they know, but they won’t tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time I was there, everything seemed so normal.”

He held up a palm to his head and sighed, like he was waiting years for someone to ask about this so he could get it off his chest. But I was too focused on the middle part.

“You’ve been to Olympus?”

“Yeah, so have most of the year-rounders, like Clarisse and Annabeth. Mr. D’s always called up in some annual meeting, so sometimes he likes to bring us up to tell the other gods how good of a job he’s doing.”

“Wait, how do you even get there!?”

Luke chuckled. “Oh, right. Forgot you’d never been. It’s the top floor of the Central Park Tower.” No way that was true, right?

“How come nobody’s ever seen it?” I tried to come off casually so nobody would laugh at me. I didn’t think it was working. “Oh, yeah. It’s a giant penthouse, much bigger than you think. The whole thing’s rented out by the gods. Permanently. Then they used some magic mumbo jumbo to renovate the place under everyone's noses. Trust me, it's like a whole other world there.”

“I get they’re gods, but how do they even afford all that? Isn’t their Greek money kinda useless?” One of the boys on the floor piped up, his curly hair literally bouncing as he rose from the floor. “I heard it’s because they all have jobs.” A boy who looked identical to the other boy rolled his eyes from his spot on a bunk. “Travis, I’d pay just to see that.”

Luke smiled a little, his scar stretching with the rest of his cheek. “Remember Connor, that’s just a rumor. Who knows, they’re gods. They can probably do anything they want.”

I awkwardly stepped over Travis, and got slapped in the face with a strong wind, like I had personally offended it or something. I remembered Luke mentioned Annabeth had also gone to Olympus, so she probably knew some more about it. I admit, I was just getting plain nosy at this point.

“Hey Annabeth.”

She turned to me, then crossed her arms. “You should practice for Capture the Flag. Otherwise you’ll get maimed.” Great conversation starter. “Uh, before that, I was just wondering...what happened on Olympus?”

“Well-” she sat down on the dry, wispy grass. I followed.

“Right after we visited,” Annabeth continued, “the weather got hectic, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I’ve overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn’t returned by summer solstice, there’s going to be trouble. I thought we could work together. You seem useful.”

It sounded like a compliment, but didn’t feel like one. More like a butcher measuring up an animal for the slaughter. “I’ve got to get a quest,” Annabeth muttered to herself.

“How do you get a quest? It’s not like a volunteer thing, right?”

Annabeth scoffed. “I wish. Otherwise I could’ve gotten one years ago. No, you have to talk to an Oracle, get a prophecy, wait for Chiron to sacrifice food to an altar for whichever god needs help, the god tells Chiron, who consults Mr. D, and then they decide if you can go or not. Finally, you need to get two others, at least, to join you.” My brain was beginning to crack under all this talk. I needed to stop thinking at some point, but it never felt like the right time.

“That….sounds way too complicated.” Annabeth nodded. “Yeah. That’s why I’ve never gotten permission. Sometimes, the Oracle doesn’t even give me a prophecy. It just sits there, silent.” She bitterly mumbled to herself.

“You said sometimes. What stops you the other times?” It felt like an honest question, but Annabeth sneered at me like I had insulted her bloodline. “Is that meant to be a taunt? Did Clarisse put you up to this?” I held up my hands in surrender. “No, I’m actually curious.”

Annabeth sighed. “You wanna know? It’s the last part. Nobody ever wants to go with me, even when I get permission. Luke considered it, but he’s the cabin leader, so he’s always busy. Nobody else can handle my strategy. The second time, the quest failed so bad thanks to my lousy teammates only Luke would even consider going with me anymore. Last time, the two I wanted to go with ditched me, and took someone else along with them to do my quest. Chiron never lets me go alone. Says I’m too young and inexperienced.”

She ended her rant by taking three deep breaths.

“I’m not too young. I could handle it, if they would just tell me the problem.” I could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must’ve heard my stomach growl.

She told me to go on, she’d catch me later. I left her on the hill, as she silently watched me every time I turned around.

Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that the left half of my bunkmates had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles.

They were the kind of kids that would be a joy to have in class until they had to do work in said class. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to me as I walked over to my spot on the floor and plopped down with my minotaur horn.

Luke came over, he had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact.

“Found you a sleeping bag,” he said. “And here, I stole you some toiletries from the camp store.”

I couldn’t tell if he was kidding about the stealing part. I said, “Thanks.”

“No prob.”

Luke sat next to me, pushed his back against the wall. “Tough first day?” “I don’t belong here,” I said. “I don’t even believe in gods.” “Yeah,” he said. “That’s how we all started. Pretty sure some folks here are still in denial. And hey, once you start believing? It doesn’t get any better.”

“So your dad is Hermes?” I asked. He pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, and for a second I thought he was going to gut me, but he just scraped the mud off the sole of his sandal.

“Yeah. Hermes.”

“The wing-footed messenger guy.”

“That’s him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That’s why you’re here, enjoying cabin eleven’s hospitality. Hermes isn’t picky about who he sponsors. Argus doesn't like him much though, so if you get claimed, maybe steer clear of him.”

I figured Luke didn’t mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind. “Have you ever met your dad?” I asked. “Once.” I waited, thinking that if he wanted to tell me, he’d tell me.

Apparently, he didn’t. I wondered if the story had anything to do with how he got his scar.

Luke looked up and managed a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they’re mostly good people. After all, we're all campers, right? We take care of each other.”

He seemed to understand how lost I felt, and I was grateful for that, because an older guy like him, even if he was a counselor, should’ve steered clear of an uncool kid like me.

But Luke had welcomed me into the cabin. He’d even stolen me some toiletries, which was the nicest thing anybody had done for me in a while. I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon.

“What's this about prophecies I keep hearing?”

Luke folded his knife. “I hate prophecies.” “What do you mean?” His face twitched around the scar. “I messed a quest up a few years back with Annabeth and a few others, and ever since Chiron hasn’t allowed any more quests without what he calls 'true experience', and even then you have to do a big old ritual. Annabeth’s been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He’d had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn’t tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn’t destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until somebody special came to the camp.”

“Is that why she was waiting outside when I got here?”

“Bingo. She wants everyone to be that person, but it’s yet to come. I’m kinda glad, though. She should wait until she reaches eighteen.” “How old are you?” “Sixteen. I’m almost there, but I’m not interested in all that quest business. Now, come on, it’s dinnertime.”

The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Somehow, I knew it was a conch shell, even though I’d never heard one before.

Luke yelled, “Eleven, fall in!” The whole cabin, about fifty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so obviously I was last.

Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.

We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods, and when I say out of the woods, I mean straight out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.

In all, there were maybe two hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads. At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns.

A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven’s was way overcrowded. I had to squeeze on to the edge of a bench with half my butt hanging off.

I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of guys all dressed in tiger pattern shirts and jorts. Chiron stood off to the side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking kids, all with gray eyes stuck squarely reading books larger than their heads.

Clarisse sat behind me at Ares’s table. She’d apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and arm wrestling right alongside her friends.

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. “To the gods!” Everybody else raised their glasses. “To the gods!” I raised my glass a little above my head and mumbled the same mantra.

My glass was empty, but Luke said, “Speak to it. Whatever you want. Nonalcoholic, of course. Dionysus would get jealous.”

I said, “Cherry co*ke.” The glass was filled with sparkling caramel liquid. Then I had an idea.

“Blue Cherry co*ke.”

The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt. I took a cautious sip. Perfect. I drank a toast to my mother.

Not that she was dead or anything, she just walked off after I got here. Maybe I should run off. I couldn’t think of anyone who would miss me. My mom was probably back at the apartment, stuck with Gabe, who’s yelling at her for totalling his car.

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! Luke took a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

“Here you go, Percy,” Luke cut my thoughts off, handing me a piece of his chicken. I took it, along with a few other snacks, and loaded my plate. He was about to hand me mustard, but I swatted away on instinct. “Sorry, I just really hate that stuff.”

Luke laughed, and I felt myself smile. I was about to take a big bite of my chicken when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion.

I wondered if they were going for dessert or something. “Come on,” Luke told me. As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll. Luke murmured in my ear, “Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell.”

Of course they did. Why wouldn’t they?

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a juicy slice of watermelon. “Hermes.”

I was next. I wished I knew what god’s name to say.

Finally, I made a silent plea.

“Whoever’s my dad, Take this and tell me who you are.”

I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames. When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn’t gag. It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn’t have gone well together, but did.

I could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention.

Mr. D stood up, waving peace symbols in the air. “Hey there, you guys! Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five’s got the win right now, so you other guys better try and win, cuz a two-time champ is soooo boring.”

A loud battle cry erupted from the Ares table.

“Oh yeah!” Mr. D continued. “Before I forget, we got a new guy! Peter Johnson!” My table cheered, the unclaimed cheering louder than the actual Hermes kids.

Chiron murmured something.

“Oh, sorry my man. It’s actually Percy Jackson. Whoops. Now, let’s get down to the campfire and party!” He raised his arms, and vines of ivy slithered up his unshaved legs. A pinecone appeared in his hand, which he cracked open, and threw into the fire.

Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo’s cabin led a singalong. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s’mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn’t feel that anyone was staring at me anymore.

Maybe I could stay here a bit longer before heading home.

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on my 'borrowed' sleeping bag.

My fingers curled around the Minotaur’s horn. I’d see my mom soon. I just needed to get through summer, and then I could go back to the apartment and talk with her again.

When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly. That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood.

I’d see her soon.

Chapter 7: I Am Become Bait. Destroyer of Spears.

Chapter Text

The next week or so I settled into a routine that felt almost normal, if you don’t count the fact that I was getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Chiron spoke and wrote to me exclusively in ancient Greek, and while at first I couldn’t understand a thing, I eventually figured out some basic terms for objects and phrases. Guess he really was a good teacher.

The rest of the day, I’d rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. Chiron tried to teach me archery, but we found out pretty quickly I wasn’t any good with a bow and arrow. He didn’t complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail.

Foot racing? No good either. The wood-nymph instructors left me in the dust. They told me not to worry about it. They’d had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But still, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree.

Wrestling? I was okay. Sometimes the floor would shake when I stood my ground long enough, but Clarisse usually found a way to beat me after an hour or so.

The only thing I really excelled at was canoeing, and that wasn’t the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur. It didn’t help that I only won by stabbing a cow in the head when it couldn’t move. I never mentioned that part.

I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching me, trying to decide who my dad was, but they weren’t having an easy time of it. I wasn’t as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids.

I didn’t have Hephaestus’s skill with metal work or Dionysus’s way with vine plants. Luke told me I might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I got the feeling he was just trying to make me feel better. He really didn’t know what to make of me either.

Annabeth hypothesized I was a son of Demeter, as plants seemed to get nutrients whenever I touched them, but I wasn’t really a fan of the vibe of the Demeter cabin. When I tried to remind her that my mom was the mortal, she told me gods could take pretty much any form. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Despite all that, I liked camp kinda. I got used to the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon. Better than the smell of the boarding schools or the apartment. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire, and try to feel some connection to my real dad. Or....other mom, I guess.

Nothing came. Just that weird feeling I’d always had, like he was some fishy fling that my mom had one time. But if he was a god, I doubt it. I tried not to think too much about my mom, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save her, to bring her back. Not that she was gone or anything, she was just at the apartment, right?

So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn’t they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus was always around his kids. Why couldn’t my dad, whoever he was, make a phone call? I mean, I didn't have a phone, but you get my point.

Thursday afternoon, seven days after I’d arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

The problem was, I couldn’t find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me.

I was getting frustrated, to say the least. I took deep breaths, but it didn’t help. I needed to stop thinking about this, then I could solely rely on demigod instincts, or something like that.

It didn’t get better when we started dueling. Luke announced he would be my partner, since this was my first time. “Poor guy,” one of the campers muttered. “Luke’s the best swordsman in the last three hundred years.”

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

“Hope he goes easy on him.” Another said. The first camper snorted.

Don’t think about it.

Luke showed me thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way. With every swipe, I got a little more battered and bruised. “Keep your guard up, Percy,” he’d say, then whap me in the ribs with the flat of his blade. “No, not that far up!” Whap! “Lunge!” Whap! “Now, back!” Whap!

At the break period, he approached me with a smile. “Hey, you’re learning! That’s always good! And wow, you’re not even sweating! Are you going easy on me?”

I looked at him, and he was drenched in sweat. How was that even possible? At this point, I figured out people sweat when they get really, really tired, but not me. Most adults tell me I just never tried, so I never sweat, but on the other hand, I really was trying to beat Luke.

Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, but I just chugged mine. Instantly, I felt better. Strength surged back into my arms. The sword didn’t feel so awkward.

“Okay, everybody circle up!” Luke ordered. “If Percy doesn’t mind, I want to give you a little demo.”

Great, I thought. Let’s all watch Percy get pounded. The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they’d been in my shoes before and couldn’t wait to see how Luke used me for a punching bag.

He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy’s blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.

“This is difficult,” he stressed. “I’ve had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique.”

He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of my hand. “Now in real time,” he said, after I’d retrieved my weapon. “We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?”

I nodded, and Luke came after me. Somehow, I kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of my sword. My senses opened up. I saw his attacks coming. I countered. I stepped forward and tried a thrust of my own.

Luke deflected it easily, but I saw a change in his face. His eyes narrowed, and he started to press me with more force. The sword grew heavy in my hand. The balance wasn’t right.

Luke’s eyes bore through me, and I didn’t have a plan. Don’t think. Just stomp. Wait, stomp? What the heck?

I stomped the ground with my foot, before using the disarming technique.

And then, something happened.

The ground rumbled, shaking both of us, I saw a chance, and I took it. The technique then threw his sword away, into one of the dummies’ heads. The tip of my blade was an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers were silent.

I lowered my sword. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Please don’t get mad, I-I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to, don’t hit me, seriously, please I’m sorry-”

For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

“Sorry?” His scarred face broke into a grin. As he raised his arms, I flinched a little. “By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!”

I wasn’t thinking the second time. I don’t know if that made my performance better or worse. I took a deep breath, laid my foot into the ground, then stomped a second time. The ground shook a lot more, but this time, Luke was ready.

He jumped just above the ground, yet held his sword firm. I rushed forward, but my technique only managed to get us in close quarters, before we had to press each other until I finally broke under the weight of Luke’s body.

Finally, one member of the audience spoke up. “Woah.”

Luke chuckled. “Well, maybe Demeter really is your parent. She's fond of the land.” Some campers, which I assumed were Demeter kids, whooped at that from a distance.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait till you get claimed.”

Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten me.

My red rain jacket had been singed at the bottom. I should probably get rid of it some time, but I didn’t have the heart. We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, until I got up the nerve to ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D.

His face turned a sickly shade of yellow. “Fine,” he said. “Just great.” “So your career’s still on track?” He glanced at me nervously. “Chiron t-told you I want a searcher’s license?” “Well . . . no.” I had no idea what a searcher’s license was, but it didn’t seem like the right time to ask. “He just said you had big plans, you know, and that you needed credit for completing a keeper’s assignment. So did you get it?”

Grover looked down at the naiads. “Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn’t failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he’d consider the job complete.” My spirits lifted. “Well, that’s not so bad, right?”

“Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest. and even if you did, why would you want me along?” “Of course I’d want you along!” Grover stared glumly into the water.

“Basket-weaving, must be nice to have a useful skill.” I tried to reassure him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. We talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods.

Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins.

“Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis,” he said. “She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn’t have one, she’d send a boar to kill us all.”

“Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?”

Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. “No. One of them, number two, is Hera’s,” he said. “That’s another honorary thing. Argus lives there, but no demigods. She’s the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn’t go around having affairs with mortals. That’s her husband’s job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos.”

“Zeus, Poseidon, Hades.”

“Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what.”

“Zeus got the sky,” I remembered. “Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld.”

“Uh-huh.” “But Hades doesn’t have a cabin here.” “No. He doesn’t have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. He doesn’t have kids, he doesn’t like the rest of the gods, and he doesn’t really care about honor or anything. So, yeah, no cabin.”

“But Zeus and Poseidon. They both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?”

Grover nervously chuckled, looking up to the sky, then to the water, like he was afraid of either of them attacking him. “W-well, how do I say this? Uh, like you said. They had a lot of kids. Too many kids, actually. It was kinda overpopulating everything, and millions of kids who can change the weather were really disrupting everything. Thank the gods Hades never had kids, or else it’d really be something else. Eventually, Hera and the other gods made them sign an oath, to never have kids. On the River Styx.”

Thunder rumbled.

“Is that some type of super serious oath?”

“The most serious you can make.”

“And the brothers kept their word? No kids?” Grover’s face darkened. “Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo. He acted as her manager, and well, he just couldn’t help himself.”

I didn’t feel so good anymore.

“When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia. Well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he’s immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Percy, he’s a god. They don’t have limits, like you and I. But Hera, she can do things about it. She sent a few monsters Thalia’s way. The satyr assigned to protect her tried his best, but Hera can’t be stopped, especially when her own husband broke two oaths in one. Marriage and the Styx. So, Thalia died. She came close to safety, up on that hill. But not enough. She became a pine tree after her death, and she still protects this camp with her spirit.”

I stared at the pine in the distance.

The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. Next to that, my victory over the Minotaur didn’t seem like much. I wondered, if I’d acted differently, could I have saved my mother?

Not that she was dead.

Oh, who was I kidding? My mom was dead. My mom was dead and it was my fault. I’d avenge her, though. I’d hunt down any other monster, and slay them too. To protect any other kids.

I just needed to get out of here. Or punch something. Whatever came first.

“Grover,” I said, “have heroes really gone on quests to the Underworld?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Orpheus. Hercules. Houdini.”

“And have they ever returned somebody from the dead?”

“No. Never. Orpheus came close. Percy, you’re not seriously thinking-”

“No, man, I’m not suicidal. I just…wanted to know.” It was technically true. I didn’t need Grover trying to stop me from getting a quest and saving her. And slaying every other monster I found.

Grover studied me warily. I hadn’t persuaded him that I’d really dropped the Underworld idea. “Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems.”

“And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special. I’m not one of them, am I?”

“I didn’t-Oh, listen, don’t think like that. If you were, you know, you’d never ever be allowed a quest, and I’d never get my license. You’re probably a child of Hermes. Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the goddess of revenge. Don’t worry, okay?”

As much as I really did want revenge, I didn't buy it. He didn’t seem like he even convinced himself.

That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual. At last, it was time to capture the flag. When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we all stood at our tables.

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree.

From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but a bold red, painted with a bloody spear in a vulture’s talons.

I turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, “Those are the flags?” “Yeah.” “Ares and Athena always lead the teams?”

“Not always,” he said. “But often.” “So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do, repaint the flag?” He grinned. “You’ll see. First we have to get one.” “Whose side are we on?” He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn’t.

He gave me a wink and pointed to Annabeth. “We’ve made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help.”

The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded. Shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities, in order to win support.

Wow.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what I’d seen, Dionysus’s kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter’s kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren’t very aggressive.

Aphrodite’s sons and daughters I wasn’t too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Though that should be a two way streak, as according to Grover, they were always ready to get nasty. Hephaestus’s kids weren’t pretty, and there were only ten of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. But they also largely ignored everyone else, so it seemed fine.

That, of course, left Ares’s cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble. “Heroes!” he announced.

“You know the rules. The creek separates the teams. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!”

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, ox hide shields coated in metal. “Whoa,” I said. “We’re really supposed to use these?”

Luke looked at me as if I were crazy. “Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here, Chiron thought these would fit. You’ll be on border patrol.”

My shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. It weighed about a million pounds. I could have snowboarded on it fine, but I hoped nobody seriously expected me to run fast.

My helmet, like all the helmets on Athena’s side, had a blue plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes.

Annabeth yelled, “Blue team, forward!” We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

I didn’t really like how this sounded. Annabeth seemed way too confident for someone with only two other cabins on their side.

As we marched, I remembered that I was meant to do border control, so I ran off into the woods, not wanting to be skewered in some Roman battalion formation.

It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed me next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees.

Standing there alone, with my big blue-feathered helmet and my clunky armor, I felt like an idiot. The bronze sword, like all the swords I’d tried so far, seemed balanced wrong. The leather grip pulled on my hand like a bowling ball.

I never seemed to do well with all this armor. Besides, who’d be out here all alone? I discarded my armor, and decided to only carry the sword and helmet.

Far away, the conch horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past me like a deer, leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory.

I hope he'll be okay.

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by. I raised my sword instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me. Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating.

On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark. “Cream the punk!” Clarisse screamed.

Her eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords, not that that made me feel any better.

I ran to the creek, and managed to sidestep the first kid’s swing, but these guys were not as stupid the Minotaur. They surrounded me, and Clarisse thrust at me with her spear.

It missed, but I felt a painful tingling all over my body. My hair stood on end. My arm went numb, and the air burned. Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric. I fell back. A burn had already formed on my neck.

I managed to get to my feet. I raised my sword, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew. Now both my arms felt numb.

“The flag is that way,” I told her. I wanted to sound angry, but I was afraid it didn’t come out that way. “Yeah,” one of her siblings said. “But see, we don’t care about the flag. We care about a guy who made our cabin look stupid.” “You do that without my help,” I told them. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say.

In a panic, I splashed them with water, using my sword to flick it on them. Clarisse only got madder. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. I felt a jolt of pain as it seeped into my stomach. As it was, the electric point just added to the weird tingling in my gut. I was pretty sure that tingling was internal bleeding, but I didn’t care.

Because Clarisse just got wet, and she was holding something very electrical.

She seemed to recognize it too, so hey, she wasn’t that stupid. Or, at least until she got shocked from a single red spark getting onto her hand, then electrocuting the whole creek. Fireflies cleared out of the area as the warrior girl was shocked, dropping her spear, and electrocuting the whole river.

Everyone else in the creek faced a similar fate, except me. I didn’t know much about skin or biology, but I figured out by now that when people got soaked, I sure didn’t. Some stray sparks hit me, but nothing compared to the Ares kids.

They hesitantly got back up once the electric current subsided, but it got easier to hit stunned targets. I swung the flat of my sword against the first guy’s head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water.

I used my sword to shear off the other guy’s horsehair plume, then took mine off to slam into the third guy’s head. I was probably playing really dirty right now, but they drew blood first, okay?

Clarisse stabbed at me again with her spear, but as she was on the ground, the spear only reached my chin. I cut it in half with my sword.

“Ah!” she screamed. “You idiot! You complete, utter, son of a-!” She probably would’ve said worse, before she face planted into the stream.

Then I heard yelling, elated screams, and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team’s banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids.

The three Ares boys got up, and hoisted Clarisse up, trying to not touch her in any way that’d make her punch them.

“A trick!” she shouted. “It was a trick.”

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver.

The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over. We’d won.

I was about to join the celebration when Annabeth’s voice, right next to me in the creek, said, ”As expected.”

I looked, but she wasn’t there. “How did that electricity taste?” she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she’d just taken it off her head.

I felt myself getting angry. I wasn’t even fazed by the fact that she’d just been invisible. “You set me up,” I said. “You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out.”

Annabeth smirked. “Oh, that’s not all. I also hijacked Clarisse’s spear so it was always sparking. That way, when you were in the river, she’d get shocked.”

“And how did you know I’d be fine?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t. I just knew she wouldn’t.”

I felt my eye twitch. I rubbed my open wound, before noticing something.

“Where did it go?”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

“Where did what go?”

“I-I got stabbed. Right here. The cut’s gone.”

The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared.

“I-I don’t get it,” I said. Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at my feet, then at Clarisse’s broken spear, and said, “Step out of the water.” “What?” “Just do it.” I came out of the creek and immediately felt bone tired. My arms started to go numb again. My adrenaline rush left me. I almost fell over, but Annabeth steadied me.

“Well, drat.” She sighed. “S’pose I have to work with what I’m given, but..”

Chiron trotted to meet us.

“Are you two alright? Come meet us up ahead.”

Annabeth rubbed her forehead.

“Show Chiron the thing.”

“The what-?”

“Get in the water.”

I was too tired to argue. I stepped back into the creek, Chiron watching me carefully.

“Eyes on the burn, Chiron.”

Oh, right. I had nearly forgotten about how much pain I had been in after the fight. I stepped into the water, as Annabeth and Chiron looked up in shock.

“Look, I-I don’t know why,” I said, trying to apologize. “I’m sorry. . . .” But they weren’t watching my wounds heal. They were staring at something above my head.

By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident. The symbol of Poseidon.

“Your father,” Annabeth murmured. “I called it.” “It is determined.” Chiron announced.

“So…I’m guessing I’m not from Demeter?”

Chapter 8: A Shapeshifting Mummy Tells Me To Get Lost

Chapter Text

The next morning, Chiron moved me to cabin three. I didn’t have to share with anybody.

I had plenty of room for all my stuff: the Minotaur’s horn, one set of spare clothes, and a toiletry bag. I got to sit at my own dinner table, pick all my own activities, call “lights out” whenever I felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.

I didn’t feel good about it.

Just when I’d started to feel accepted, to feel I had a home in cabin eleven and I might be a normal kid, or as normal as you can be when you’re a half-blood, I’d been separated out as if I had some rare disease.

Not everything was bad. Most campers were still relatively friendly. But not like in the Hermes cabin. The unclaimed didn’t talk to me, and Luke was the only one who was still a friend.

I still had sword class, but the cabins called it unfair if I ever got water. So I just took one-on-one classes with Luke. He let me have water, treated me like an equal, but I could feel his nervousness whenever we were by a puddle.

Annabeth seemed to focus on quest potential rather than me as a person now. Not like she ever really cared about me, but it seemed especially now I was a means to an end.

I knew somebody at camp resented me, because one night I came into my cabin and found a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article took me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I got, the more the words floated around on the page.

BOY AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT
BY DOLORES A. PATE

Sally Jackson and son Percy Jackson are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family’s badly burned ’78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken.

The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding. Some debris had found its way into the strawberry fields of Long Island. Mother and son had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circ*mstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons.

Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident. Ms. Jackson’s husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepson, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has made many enemies with many rich, powerful people.

He also claims that he will threaten to sue whoever did this, and as he puts it: “Take all the money they have and leave them on the streets.”

Police would not say whether there is a culprit in the two’s disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline.

The phone number was circled in black marker. I wadded up the paper and shoved it in my pocket, then flopped down in my bunk bed in the middle of my empty cabin.

I wanted to go to sleep, I really did, but I just couldn’t. So, I stood up, walked out my cabin, and wandered off into the night.

I ended up at the edge of Half-Blood Hill when someone stopped me. I expected it to be Chiron, or Luke, or even Annabeth.

Not Clarisse.

“You can’t just leave.” She muttered, her normally fiery eyes dulled and sullen. “What’s stopping me?” She sighed, almost defeated, but not quite.

“Monsters. They prowl out here all the time at night. Usually hunting for idiots like you to go running off.”

I rolled my eyes, but turned my back to the exit. “Well, fine then. I guess I’ll just stay here forever and deal with you parading around with your other brutes, trying to maim me every week.” Clarisse looked like she wanted to kill me, but paused.

“Jackson, listen up. You destroyed the only thing my dad ever gave me. I tried, and failed, to give you a swirlie. Tell me how I’m the bad guy here, so I can beat you up for being wrong.”

For once, Clarisse was kind of right. But I wouldn’t admit that. I couldn’t admit that. I was way too angry to care. “Well, I didn’t know you owned that spear.”

Clarisse had an immediate response. “So?”

“You drew blood first!”

“We were fighting! Fought me back! I know you could've! That's why I went after you!” The winds seemed to pick up. “Me breaking your weapon should also be a part of the fight!” We were getting heated again, the fire was returning in Clarisse, not even extinguished by the cold air of the night. She also seemed to be getting psychically stronger.

“What are you trying to accomplish here? Prove that you were right in breaking my stuff!?” She got up in my face, her breath smelled like blood. “No! I already know I was right! I’m trying to tell you that you’re the problem here! I’m just defending myself!”

Clarisse just groaned. “Fine. I bullied you a little. But that doesn’t make you right. I’ll still fight you, anyday, anytime. And I’ll break your back if you ever try to one up me again.”

“Fine. I don’t care. Go away.”

“No, you’re still planning on running off. And I’m not gonna let you.” “I just can’t win with you, huh? Why can’t you just let me leave?”

Clarisse rolled her eyes, as if I was being the stubborn one. “Because, I’m not letting you get yourself killed like an idiot. You made me hate you! So you're gonna get destroyed by me, and not by some random hell hound."

I was silent. I really didn’t know what to do about this. The argument devolved so quickly, I didn’t even remember what it was about. She shook her head. “I’m tired of this. This isn’t even the fun type of fighting. So I’m going to bed. Hope you have a nightmare, Jackson.”

She left me in the night, heading back into the Ares cabin, shutting the door so loud I jolted a little. But, the more I looked at it, the exit seemed less appealing. Maybe Clarisse was right.

I decided I wasn’t going to run away.

That night, I had my worst dream yet. I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York.

The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance. About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair.

Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.

I had to stop them. I didn’t know why. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back, until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand.

Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, Give it back! Give it back! Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.

The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt. I yelled, Stop it! Stop fighting! The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice.

Come down, little one, the voice crooned. Come down! The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me. I woke up, sure I was falling. I was still in bed in cabin three.

My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn’t dreamed that. I heard a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold. “Come in?” Grover trotted inside, looking worried. “Mr. D wants to see you.” “Why?”

“I really hope you’ve figured it out by now.”

Nervously, I got dressed and followed, sure that I was in huge trouble.

For days, I’d been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that I was declared a son of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren’t supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for me just to be alive. The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me for existing, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Grover if we needed an umbrella.

“No,” he said. “It never rains here unless we want it to.” I pointed at the storm. “What the heck is that, then?” He glanced uneasily at the sky. “It’ll pass around us. Bad weather always does.”

I realized he was right. In the week I’d been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I’d seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley. But this storm, this one was huge.

At the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo’s cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus’s twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.

Grover and I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet co*ke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheelchair. They were playing against invisible opponents, two sets of cards hovering in the air.

“Hey, pal.” Mr. D said, but he lacked that frat boy accent. This time, he was serious.

“You are a problem pal. You’re not really meant to exist. Now, I like screwing with my pops as much as the next god, but you are a real problem. I’m being called up right now to go to the meeting dealing with you, which is like, the worst jury duty since Athena opened up her courthouse. Basically, you’re really killing my vibe.”

I got that same look from the first time I met him. That look of primal insanity, reserved just for the unlucky soul caught in Mr. D’s gaze. I stumbled a little, but managed to stand my ground.

“You got three options, pal. Either I kill you, you get out, or you stop this vibe killer. I’d personally suggest the second option.”

Dionysus picked up one of the checkers and flipped it like a coin. My eyes were focused on it, and when the coin hit the table, he had dissipated, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. “Sit, Percy, please. And Grover.” We did. Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn’t gotten to use.

“Are you ready?”

“R-ready for what?”

“For your quest, of course.”

I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers. “Um, sir,” I said, “you haven’t told me what it is yet.” Chiron grimaced. “Well, that’s the hard part, the details.” Thunder rumbled across the valley.

The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as I could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together. “Poseidon and Zeus,” I said. “They’re fighting over something valuable. Something that was stolen, aren’t they?”

Chiron and Grover exchanged looks. Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. “How did you know that?” My face felt hot. I wished I hadn’t opened my big mouth. “The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she’d overheard something about a theft. And I’ve also been having these dreams.”

“I knew it,” Grover said. “Hush, satyr,” Chiron ordered. “But it is his quest!” Grover’s eyes were bright with excitement. “It must be!” “Only the Oracle can determine.” Chiron stroked his bristly beard.

“Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt.” I laughed nervously. “A what?”

“Do not take this lightly,” Chiron warned. “I’m not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you’d see in a second-grade play. I’m talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives.”

“Oh.” “Zeus’s master bolt,” Chiron said, getting worked up now. “The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers.”

“And it’s missing?” “Stolen,” Chiron said. “By who?” “By whom,” Chiron corrected. “By you.” My mouth fell open. “At least-” Chiron held up a hand “-that’s what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: ‘Mother Rhea always liked you best,’ ‘Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,’ et cetera.

Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god’s symbol of power directly. that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it.” “But I didn’t-” “Patience and listen, child,” Chiron said.

“Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The Cyclopes are often his children, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother’s lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn’t sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief.”

“But I’ve never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!” Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn’t seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid. “Er, Percy?” Grover said. “We don’t use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky.”

“Perhaps paranoid,” Chiron suggested. “Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I'd hope my body double at least taught you that.” He looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember. How could anyone accuse me of stealing a god’s weapon? I couldn’t even steal a slice of pizza from Gabe’s poker party without getting busted.

Chiron was waiting for an answer. “Something about a golden net?” I guessed. “Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods, they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn’t let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?”

“Correct,” Chiron said. “And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you’ve come along. The proverbial last straw.”

“But I’m just a kid!” “Percy,” Grover cut in, “if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath, that he’s fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you. Wouldn’t that put a twist in your toga?”

“But I didn’t do anything. Poseidon wouldn’t use his own kid to steal something for him, right?” Chiron sighed. “Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon’s style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That’s June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus’s temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?”

“Bad?”

I guessed. “Imagine the world in chaos. Nature is at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight.”

“Bad,” I repeated. “And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus’s wrath.” It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky. I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me. I was furious.

“So I have to find the stupid bolt,” I said. “And return it to Zeus.” “What better peace offering,” Chiron said, “than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus’s property?” “If Poseidon doesn’t have it, where is the thing?” “I believe I know.” Chiron’s expression was grim. “Part of a prophecy I had years ago. Well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle.”

“Why can’t you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?” “Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge.” I swallowed. “Good reason.” “You agree then?” I looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly. Easy for him. I was the one Zeus wanted to kill.

“All right,” I said. “It’s better than being turned into a dolphin.” “Then it’s time you consulted the Oracle,” Chiron said. “Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you’re still sane, we will talk more.” Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor. I pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place. The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else . . . a smell I remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes. I held my breath and climbed. The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying “Welcome to Ithaca 2”, a paw print labeled “Circe’s Pet Store”, and a spear with an Amazon logo plastered onto it. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things.

severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, and various other monster parts. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake’s head, but with horns and a full set of shark’s teeth. The plaque read, Hydra Head #1, Woodstock, N.Y., 1969.

By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair.

The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she’d been dead a long, long time. Looking at her sent chills up my back.

And that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy’s mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. I stumbled over myself trying to get to the trapdoor, but it slammed shut.

Inside my head, I heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around my brain: I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.

I wanted to say, No thanks, wrong door, just looking for the bathroom. But I forced myself to take a deep breath. The mummy wasn’t alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around me in the green mist.

But its presence didn’t feel evil, like Mr. Brunner or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates I’d seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing me, either. I got up the courage to ask, “What is my destiny?” The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars.

Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies. My fists clenched, though I knew this poker party couldn’t be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist.

Gabe turned toward me and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

Eddie on the right looked up and said in the same voice: You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.

Karl threw in two poker chips, then said: You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

Finally, Teo, our building super, delivered the worst line of all: And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

The figures began to dissolve. At first I was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, I cried, “Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?”

The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy’s mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn’t been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.

I got the feeling that I could stand here until I had cobwebs, too, and I wouldn’t learn anything else. My audience with the Oracle was over. I came back downstairs.

“Well?” Chiron asked me. I slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. “She said I would retrieve what was stolen.” Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet co*ke can.

“That’s great!” “What did the Oracle say exactly?” Chiron pressed. “This is important.” My ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. “She said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned.”

“I knew it,” Grover said. Chiron didn’t look satisfied. “Anything else?” I didn’t want to tell him. What friend would betray me? I didn’t have that many. And the last line. I would fail to save what mattered most. What kind of Oracle would send me on a quest and tell me, Oh, by the way, you’ll fail.

How could I confess that? “No,” I said. “That’s about it.” He studied my face. “Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle’s words often have double meanings. Don’t dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass.” I got the feeling he knew I was holding back something bad, and he was trying to make me feel better.

“Okay,” I said, anxious to change topics. “So where do I go? Who’s this god in the west?” “Ah, think, Percy,” Chiron said. “If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?” “Somebody else who wants to take over?” I guessed.

“Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken.”

I thought about my dreams, the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. “Hades.” Chiron nodded. “The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility.” A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover’s mouth. “Whoa, wait. Wh-what?” “Great,” I muttered. “That’s two major gods who want to kill me.”

“But a quest to-” Grover swallowed. “I mean, couldn’t the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine’s very nice this time of year.” “Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt,” Chiron insisted. “He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don’t pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead’s motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth.”

A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn’t fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. He was trying to frame me for a theft we hadn’t committed. I was ready to take him on. Besides, if my mother was in the Underworld. Whoa, boy, said the small part of my brain that was still sane. You’re a kid. Hades is a god.

Grover was trembling. He’d started eating checkers like potato chips. The poor guy needed to complete a quest with me so he could get his searcher’s license, whatever that was, but how could I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said I was destined to fail?
This was suicide. “Look, if we know it’s Hades,” I told Chiron, “why can’t we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads.” “Suspecting and knowing are not the same,” Chiron said.

“Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades, and I imagine Poseidon does, they couldn’t retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other’s territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they’re bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero’s actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?”

“You’re saying I’m being used.” “I’m saying it’s no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It’s a very risky gamble, but he’s in a desperate situation. He needs you.” My dad needs me. Emotions rolled around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I didn’t know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. I decided to be annoyed. Poseidon had ignored me for years. Now suddenly he needed me.

I looked at Chiron. “You’ve known I was Poseidon’s son all along, haven’t you?” “I had my suspicions. What with that bathroom incident and all. And as I said, I’ve spoken to the Oracle, too.”

I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn’t telling me about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn’t worry about that right now. After all, I was holding back information too. “So let me get this straight,” I said. “I’m supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead.” “Check,” Chiron said.

“Find the most powerful weapon in the universe.” “Check.” “And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days.” “That’s about right.” I looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts. “Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?” he asked weakly.

“You don’t have to go,” I told him. “I can’t ask that of you.” “Oh..” He shifted his hooves. “No, it’s just satyrs and underground places.” He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt.

“You saved my life, Percy. If you’re serious about wanting me along, I won’t let you down.” I felt so relieved I wanted to cry, though I didn’t think that would be very heroic. Grover was the only friend I’d ever had for longer than a few months. I wasn’t sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he’d be with me.

“All the way, G-man.” I turned to Chiron. “So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west.” “The entrance to the Underworld is always present, much like death. I believe the closest one is further west.” “Where?” Chiron looked surprised. “I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles.” “Oh,” I said. “Naturally. So we just get on a plane- "

“No!” Grover shrieked. “Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?” I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She’d always said we didn’t have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.

“Percy, think,” Chiron said. “You are the son of the Sea God. Your father’s bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus’s domain. You would never come down again alive.”

Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed. “Okay,” I said, determined not to look at the storm. “So, I’ll travel over land.” “That’s right,” Chiron said. “Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered, if you will accept her help.” “Gee,” I said, feigning surprise. “Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?”

The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket. “I’ve been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain,” she said. “Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you’re going to save the world, I’m the best person to keep you from messing up.”

“You sure? Luke seems better.” I said, trying to provoke her. She rolled her eyes, though her cheeks colored. “He..he doesn’t do quests.” I already knew he didn’t, so I just gave in. “A trio,” I said. “That’ll work.”

“Excellent,” Chiron said. “This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own.” Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were supposedly never supposed to have violent weather. “No time to waste,” Chiron said. “I think you should all get packing.”

Chapter 9: The Godly Gossiper

Chapter Text

The next morning, it didn’t take me long to pack. I decided to leave the Minotaur horn in my cabin, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me. ‘

I also kept the rain jacket, as though it didn’t do anything, maybe it could help out if I saw the Minotaur again.

I knew Chiron said the Minotaur would be gone for a long time, but I kept getting a nagging feeling that was just to make me feel better.

The camp store loaned me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and an animal on the other.

The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions, whatever that meant.

He gave Annabeth and me each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was godly food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom, like Clarisse’s spear. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector.

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart’s Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff ’s “So Yesterday,” both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

We waved good-bye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus. Shiny golden tassels hung around the pine’s branches, making it glow like a star.

Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood the surfer dude I’d seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy was the camp’s head of security.

He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands and face. His neck was obscured by a scarf made of peaco*ck feathers. Strange fashion choice, but alright.

“This is Argus,” Chiron told me. “He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things.” I heard footsteps behind us. Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

“Hey, guys! Wait up!”

Luke took a second to catch his breath, before putting on a smile as he presented the shoes. “Just wanted to say good luck,” Luke told me. “And I thought maybe you could use these.” He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal.

Luke said, “Maia!” White bird’s wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, I dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

“They’ll fly you to the deepest pits of the underworld, where Hades will probably be. I’ve never been there myself, so tell me all about it when you get back.” Annabeth swiftly nodded, before taking off down the hill, to the van below.

I sighed. She’d be a handful, wouldn’t she? Luke bumped my shoulder. “Ay, don’t worry about her too much. She can handle herself. I’ve only held her back by protecting her, so don’t make the same mistake. And….there’s a lot on your shoulders right now, right? So just….kill some monsters for me, kay?”

We shook hands. Luke patted Grover’s head between his horns, then shot finger guns down at Annabeth, who hid her face from us. He chuckled, before turning his back to us as he left, waving to us as he walked back to the camp.

Chiron came to us next, specifically me, as he held out a scratched up pen, and dropped into my open hand. “Um, do you want me to write back or something?” Chiron chuckled, like I was in on whatever joke he was making. “Well, you can certainly try. In fact, do just that when you see a monster. It may help you more than you think.”

Yeah, right. But if he really wanted me to, I guess I could do it. I didn’t have a weapon, so I’d probably just be relying on any water around me to kill monsters like it did to the Minotaur. I never really thought about how I’d fight, but I’d figure something out.

As we began to join Annabeth down the hill, I checked out our ride. It was just a white SUV with a large strawberry logo on the door.

When I got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur.

“So far so good,” I told Annabeth. “Ten miles and not a single monster.” She gave me an irritated look. “It’s bad luck to talk that way, Peseus.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Percy’s short for Perseus. Well, when it comes to Greek anyway. Your mother likely named you after a Greek hero, pretty normal. We have a lot of Jason, some Theo, and even an Ajax here or there.”

That did make more sense now. My mom had always told me it was because even I “could be a hero.” I wonder if this is what she had in mind.

“So don’t feel special.” Didn’t know why she needed to add that, but okay.

“Why do you hate me?” I asked, but Annabeth just scoffed. “I don’t hate you, seaweed brain. I’m just keeping you humble. Statistically, hubris is the most likely way for idiots like you to meet Hades. And not in the way you want.”

“And trying to get me electrocuted was for…?”

“Consider it payback for the toilet.”

I sighed, as we just sat in silence for the rest of the ride. Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain.

Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe’s apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flier with my picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?

I ripped it down before Annabeth and Grover could notice.

Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot.

I thought about how close I was to my old apartment. On a normal day, my mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe was probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction I was looking. “You want to know why she married him, Percy?” I stared at him. “Were you reading my mind or something?”

“No, but you’re really close to the apartment, right? I can only assume you’re thinking about your mom, and him. But in truth, she probably did it to protect you. After all, mortals are really repulsive to Zeus. He hates anyone who doesn’t worship him, and nowadays, that’s basically everybody. Same goes for most of the gods, really.”

“So he’s watching me right now? Now that I’m not around Gabe?”

“Oh, definitely. Though, I think he’s been watching you since you grabbed Nancy.” I shuddered at that thought. Maybe I should get used to all the weirdness, but the idea of a giant man watching me at all times and ready to strike me down sounded, well, pretty everyday, but the fact he could strike me down with lightning rather than a pool stick just made me uncomfortable.

Speaking of how crummy Zeus was, I didn’t want to even do this quest, but this wasn’t about him.

The truth was, I didn’t care about retrieving Zeus’s lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble.

The more I thought about it, I resented Poseidon for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He’d only claimed me because he needed a job done.

All I cared about was my mom. Hades had taken her unfairly, and Hades was going to give her back.

The rain kept coming down. At least my dad allowed me to be a little comfortable. We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover’s apples.

Annabeth was freakishly good. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Although, she kept sweating every time she messed up, and I swear I heard a voice whisper something. Eh, who cared. I wasn’t too bad myself.

The game ended when I tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared. Core, stem, and all.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but Annabeth and I were too busy cracking up. Finally the bus came.

As we were about to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy enchiladas.

“What are you doing?” I asked, as he breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought I smelled a monster. But it just smells like sunscreen.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Annabeth pushed me aside as she entered the bus, sitting at the front. Grover and I looked at each other as we boarded beside her, on the opposite side of the bus. We were just behind the bus driver’s seat, but as he was looking over us, I recognized him.

The wavy blonde hair tied up with a scrunchie that left two strands that framed his face, the hat that I just realized was in Greek.

“Weren’t you my taxi driver a few weeks ago?” I asked, quietly enough so that the very few passengers in the back couldn’t hear us. He looked me over, before smirking.

“Ah. So you’re the water-boy’s kid, huh?” I froze up. Annabeth glared at me, and Grover gulped. The man’s smirk burst into a bright smile.

“It’s a pleasure, truly, a pleasure! Not everyday a Big-Three kid comes to me for transportation, c’mon, hand me your bags.” We did so, and Annabeth came over and brought hers to him as well.

She tried to glare down at the man, who just chided us further. “Oh, and you must be Annabeth Chase. And that makes you-”

He booped Grover on the nose.

“-the goat boy, right? The gods have just been going on and on about you three! Who knew retrieving the most powerful weapon of the gods would gain such publicity, amiright?”

“Would you please keep it down?” Annabeth hissed. “You’re a demigod, right? Surely you know you can’t just blab about gods when there are mortals around!” The man laughed. “Check my nametag, kid.”

He stood to the front of the bus, getting the attention of the other kids at the back, and pointed at the nametag on his overalls. I read out his name. “Helios?”

Annabeth paled. “Oh, oh my gods! I apologize.” Grover meanwhile was sweating up a storm. “P-please don’t smite us!” I shrugged. I didn’t really know anyone outside of the twelve Olympians and Kronos.

Helios didn’t seem to mind, though. “Ah, please, you kids are too kind! And don’t worry about the other guys. Only demigods can even board this thing. I think if a mortal tried to hop on the Sun they’d die, or something.”

I looked at the other passengers. While they all were wearing coats and hoodies, I could just make out the Camp Half-Blood shirt underneath the layers. “Yeah, don’t mind them. They’re coming back from a quest that killed their leader.”

Grover gulped. How reassuring. These guys looked much older than us, and if even they failed, how could we do any better? “What was their quest?” I questioned, as Helios got back behind the driver’s seat.

“Oh, it’s just some casual chores. I think they were sent to Hestia to get her to show up for that conference. One died in a fire, though. Darn shame.”
Annabeth muttered something to herself, before speaking up louder. “Why? I thought she wasn’t part of the Olympians anymore.” Helios punched her shoulder playfully, and gestured for her to sit down with Grover and I.

“Well, she’s the oldest. While Zeus has the power, Hestia has to moderate when arguments break out. And believe me, they break out a lot. But, I suppose we can talk while I drive. Sit tight, everybody!”

He put his sandal on the pedal, and began to drive into the entrance of Lincoln Tunnel. While at first we sat in silence, I felt too understimulated, and tried to ask the godly bus driver about my dad.

“Your pops, huh? Well, he’s certainly a piece of work. Never takes no for an answer, kinda sleazy, goes with the flow, so long as that flow doesn’t take him to marriage court.”

I grumbled as Helios listed off everything wrong with my dad. “Anything good?” Helios let out a laugh. “Hm, let me think. He saved Nerites from shrimp-dom. Helps protect sea life. That’s about it.”

Annabeth laughed a little at that. Rude. “And what about Athena?” She glared at me. Helios got a good chuckle out of that.

“Oh, where to begin? She tried to sue me for letting Apollo cover for me when I got lazy. Turned artists into spiders, and maidens into snake monsters. Good stuff.”

Annabeth seemed to be getting pissed off. “At least she’s a better parent.” Helios shook his head. “Better, sure. Good, no way. But not as bad of a parent as Ares! He’s a real short fuse, lemme tell you. Or Aphrodite! She’s the one that turned Nerites into a shrimp. I swear, she never stops promoting that death trap of a salon. Oh, and Zeus-”

Grover cut him off. “With no disrespect Helios sir, should you really be telling us all this?” Helios shrugged as we saw the light at the end of the tunnel. “Sorry, I know you kids nowadays are all sensitive about offending the gods. I’m still used to the kids back in the 70’s. They were all about the godly gossip.”

I searched through my pockets, finding that crumpled newspaper and the pen. I fiddled with the pen for a while, until Helios had begun to talk again.

“Now, if we’re not talking about gods, I have some tips for you guys. I’ve been the driver for plenty of quests, so I know a thing or two. But you guys are special. I can’t bring you the whole way like the usual, as Zeus would think I’m picking sides.”

He raised his pinkie finger. “First of all, whatever you do, don’t go into any situation without knowing your mythology.”

He handed me a photo of a generic guy with eight scaly neckties layered on top of his green jumpsuit, working with some pipes. He gave a thumbs up to the camera.

“Monsters these days are as gentrified as we are. You ever heard of the Hydra? Well, that’s him now. He’s a sanitarian. Go in the sewers, you aren’t coming out.”

Okay then, I’m not using sewer water any time soon. Don’t want him coming with it like a surprise package.

Annabeth meanwhile didn’t seem too bothered. “Secondly?” Helios hummed a little tune as he raised his ring finger. “Secondly, don’t visit the Talon weather institute.”

Grover whispered to me. “Zeus is the boss there.” I gulped. I may be angry, but dying was not the best way to see my mom.

“And thirdly..” We pulled up at the bus stop and picked up our stuff. The doors opened to a battered and bloodied duo of eighteen year olds, grief stricken on their faces.

“You didn’t hear anything from me.”

Chapter 10: We Get Off to a Rocky Start

Chapter Text

Just as we were unprotected by Helios’ sunny aura, the thunderstorm outside became palpable.

“Alright then, we’re on our own from here on out.” Annabeth immediately left for a more rural part of town, as the sun began to set. I could still make out Helios’s bus driving off into the distance.

“Shouldn’t we go to a more populated place?” I asked. Annabeth rolled her eyes. “And get attacked while we can’t fight back without getting arrested? No thanks.”

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn’t see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn’t see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.

“You haven’t left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?” I asked her. “No . . . only short field trips. My dad-”

“The history professor.”

“Yeah. It didn’t work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home.” She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her.

“At camp you train and train. And that’s all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That’s where you learn whether you’re any good or not.”

“Well, I hope we never learn then.” Annabeth flicked my forehead. “Uh-huh. And what’re you going to do if the Minotaur shows up again?” I’d probably just try to get him near water.

Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured. “Hey, my reed pipes still work!” Grover cried. “If I could just remember a ‘find path’ song, we could get out of these woods!”

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Instead of finding a path, I immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on my head.

Add to the list of superpowers I did not have: infrared vision. After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign.

I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything unhealthy since I’d arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-altered KFC. This boy needed a double cheeseburger.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It wasn’t a fast-food restaurant like I’d hoped.

It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary.

The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there’s anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it’s red cursive neon English.

To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. “What the heck does that say?” I asked. “Aunty Em’s Garden Gnome Emporium''.

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. “Hey-” Annabeth warned. “The lights are on inside,” Grover said. “Maybe it’s open.” “Snack bar,” I said wistfully. “Snack bar,” Grover agreed.

“Are you two crazy?” Annabeth said. “This place is suspicious.” We ignored her. The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

“Bla-ha-ha!” he bleated. “Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!” We stopped at the warehouse door. “Don’t knock,” Grover pleaded. “I smell monsters.”

“What if it’s another god?” “Or goddess,” Annabeth chided. Grover resigned himself to a ‘don’t tell me I didn’t warn you’.

“All I smell is burgers. Aren’t you hungry?” “Meat!” he said scornfully. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans,” I reminded him. “Those are vegetables. Come on. Let’s leave. These statues are looking at me.”

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall woman in a veil and all black robes. Like a nun at a wedding.

Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

“Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?” She asked, worry evident in her voice.

“She ran away from her dad.” I pointed to Annabeth. She scoffed. “His mom’s dead,” she shot back. Wow. What the heck? Grover bleated. “I-I’m keeping them alive..”

“Oh, you poor things!” The woman exclaimed, quickly ushering us inside.

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces.

I was thinking you’d have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, I was thinking about food. Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady’s shop like that just because I was hungry, but I do impulsive stuff sometimes.

Plus, you’ve never smelled Aunty Em’s burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist’s chair; it made everything else go away.

I barely noticed Grover’s nervous whimpers, or the way the statues’ eyes seemed to follow me, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us.

All I cared about was finding the dining area. And sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.

I hastily pulled out a five dollar bill. “Um, sorry, this is all the paper money we have..” The woman laughed behind her veil, and made an X with her arms. “No, children. I will not take your money for feeding you.”

“W-we have food!” Grover took out the food in our bag to show her, and only then did the realization dawn on us all. Maybe we shouldn’t have given our bag to the sun.

All our food was burnt to a near crisp, except the ambrosia, which was now looking more like orange juice. Great. The woman’s eyes widened as she saw our pathetic excuse for food. “Oh dear, I insist you all eat! You must be starving!”

Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she’d brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

I was halfway through my burger before I remembered to breathe. Annabeth slurped her shake. Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray’s waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. “What’s that hissing noise?” he asked. I listened, but didn’t hear anything.

Annabeth shook her head. “Hissing?” Aunty Em asked. “Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover.” “I take vitamins. For my ears.” “That’s admirable,” she said. “But please, relax.” Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn’t taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat.

It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn’t see her face, but I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess.

“So you made all of these?” “Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company.” The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. What a miserable life. Now that’s the kind of life Gabe deserved.

Annabeth had stopped eating. She looked down, eyes away from everyone and said, “Two sisters?” “It’s a terrible story,” Aunty Em said.

“Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman, was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a lover, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price. So, now I make my statues all on my lonesome.”

Wait a minute…oh. Uh oh.

I stood up, and turned back to the table. I promptly started walking. “Where are you going, Perseus?” Oh no.

“...You’re Medusa, aren’t you?” I blurted out. Annabeth shielded her eyes. Grover did too. I just kept looking away. I could almost sense Medusa’s smile “Ah. And you’re a demigod, aren’t you?”

I looked down. “You’re the one they’ve been talking about. Poseidon’s new child, hm? And how ironic. Perseus just had to come here, didn’t he?” I began to hear hissing. Snakes.

“And I heard from a little birdie that Perseus happened to be traveling with a daughter of Athena.” I made out Annabeth running into a section of the warehouse. Then Grover went in the opposite direction. I stayed put.

“The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Percy,” Medusa said, and she didn’t sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. “Annabeth’s mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this. And your father, he is no better.”

“Don’t listen to her!” Annabeth’s voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. “Kill her already!”

“Silence!” Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. “You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy’s daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. And you too, you are just as guilty. You owe me this much, at least”

“....why do I owe you anything?” I muttered. The hissing got louder, so I shut my eyes to be sure. “What!? I cannot fight a god, Perseus! You two are the closest I’ve ever gotten to revenge! And I am not-”

Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. “Duck!”

I did as told, dodging as I felt a rush of wind go past me.

I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o’clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ear and nose alone.

“Duck!” he yelled again. “I’ll get her!” That finally jolted me into action. Knowing Grover, I was sure he’d miss Medusa and nail me. I dove to one side. Thwack! At first I figured it was the sound of Grover hitting a tree.

Then Medusa roared with rage. “You miserable satyr,” she snarled. “I’ll add you to my collection!” “That was for Uncle Ferdinand!” Grover yelled back. I scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass.

Ker-whack! “Arrgh!” Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting. Right next to me, Annabeth’s voice said, “Finish the job!” I jumped so high my feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. “Jeez! Don’t do that!”

Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. “I have to cut her head off.” “What? Are you crazy? Grover can fly away if he gets in trouble. We can just leave!" "Medusa is a menace. She’s evil. I’ll make it quick!”

“Fine”. Annabeth said, putting her Yankees cap back on.

Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. “A polished shield would be better.” She studied the sphere critically. “The convexity will cause some distortion.

The reflection’s size should be off by a factor of—"

"Would you speak English?” “I am!” She tossed me the glass ball. “Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly.” She said, as her voice trailed out the door.

“Hey, guys!” Grover yelled somewhere above us. “I think she’s unconscious!” A roar echoed through the garden. “Maybe not,” Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

“Hurry,” Annabeth told me. “Grover’s got a great nose, but he’ll eventually crash.” I took out my pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide elongated in my hand. I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa’s hair.

I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I could only glimpse Medusa’s reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course.

He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful “Umphh!” Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, “Hey!” I advanced on her, which wasn’t easy, holding a sword and a glass ball. If she charged, I’d have a hard time defending myself.

But she let me approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn’t really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse.

“I am really not a bad person, Perseus.” Medusa crooned. “It’s all your fault.”

From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, “Percy, don’t listen to her!” Medusa cackled. “It is all YOUR fault!” She lunged at me with her talons.

I slashed up with my sword, and heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern, the sound of a body falling to the ground.

“No, it really isn’t.”

It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces. “Oh, yuck,” Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming.

“Mega-yuck.” Annabeth came up next to me, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa’s black veil. She said, “Don’t move.” Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster’s head in black cloth, then picked it up.

It was still dripping dust. “Are you okay?” she asked me, her voice trembling. “Yeah,” I decided, though I felt like throwing up my double cheeseburger. “Why didn’t the head evaporate?”

“A monster’s last defense mechanism is to turn to dust to preserve their spirit for the Underworld. So long as a single piece of the body goes back there, the whole body can reform. I’d guess Medusa is keeping her head around just in case some unlucky guy looks at it.”

I was quiet for a while, before a question I had bubbling in my brain came out. “Would she have been nice to us if we weren’t demigods?”

Annabeth scoffed. “No, obviously! It's Medusa!” Grover meanwhile nervously played with his hands. “I hate to say it, but yeah..”

Annabeth turned around to glare at Grover, who cowered under her gaze. “S-she’s running a business! Most monsters these days have figured out they can disguise themselves well enough to not need to be giant hulking creatures anymore!”

I didn’t want to address anything Annabeth had to say right now. I didn’t want to think about how I could have avoided killing a woman, if I had just kept my mouth shut.

No, no. She deserved it. She was a monster. Monsters killed my mom. I needed to kill every monster. But if they came back, was it even possible? Was it even worth it at all?

I just didn’t know. All I did know was that I was really, really angry.

I found some bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa’s head. I plopped it on the table where we’d eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!

I was angry, not just with this quest, but with all the gods for sending us out here in the first place. Sure, I had wanted to get out, but if this was how we’d have to go about things, I’d rather have skipped it altogether, and taken my chance running away. At this rate, we’d never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice.

What had Medusa said? “You owe me this at least”

It’s because of my dad, and Annabeth’s mom. It was all their fault we had to even kill this lady to begin with. I got up. “I’ll be back.” “No, explain-” Annabeth called after me. “What are you—”

I searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa’s office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to a place called “Dis Pater Bank”.

According to one freight bill, the Underworld’s billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California.

I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some tickets for the idol Hycanthius’s Concert Tour.

I rummaged around the rest of the office until I found the right-size box. I went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa’s head, and filled out a delivery slip:

All the Gods
Mount Olympus
600th Floor
Central Park Tower
New York, NY
Thanks a lot.
Sincerely, Percy Jackson

“They’re not going to like that,” Grover warned. “They’ll think you’re impertinent.” I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register.

The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! “I am impertinent,” I said.

I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn’t. She seemed resigned to the fact that I had a major talent for ticking off the gods. “Come on,” she muttered. “We need a new plan.”

Chapter 11: I Think This Food Stand Guy Wants to Eat Zeus

Chapter Text

We were pretty miserable that night. We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties.

The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast food wrappers. We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry out our damp clothes. I didn’t know what they were complaining about, but I tried to be empathetic.

Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else. We decided to sleep in shifts. I volunteered to take first watch, and laid out a few picnic blankets.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Although, I swear I could hear her mumbling to something. Or someone. Things like “no, I can’t.” or “let me sleep.”

I decided to ignore it.

Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

"Go ahead and sleep," I told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble." He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes.

"It makes me sad, Percy." "What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?" "No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage in the water. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"Oh, yeah. I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

He glared at me. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast! Ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

"Pan? Like the cooking tool?" "Pan!" he cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?" A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might have once been in these woods.

Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known. "Tell me about the search," I said. Grover looked at me cautiously, as if he were afraid I was just making fun. "The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me.

"A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"And you want to be a searcher."

"It's my life's dream," he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand ... the statue you saw back there—"

"Oh, right, sorry." Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive." "Hang on— the first?" Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again."

"Not once in two thousand years?"

"No."

"And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him?" "None." "But you still want to go," I said, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan?"

"I have to believe that, Percy. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened. And I would do anything, no matter what, to accomplish that."

“Anything?” Grover looked at me, completely determined. “Anything. I’ve been getting dreams, too. I swear, Pan speaks to me, and tells me how to find him. I just need to stay out here as long as I can, and follow his instructions. I’ll save all of my kind, Percy. I have to do it.”

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, was I any better? "How are we going to get into the Underworld?" I asked him.

"I mean, what chance do we have against a god?" "I don't know," he admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me—" "Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out." "Don't be so hard on her, Percy. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me...."

His voice faltered. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Forgave you for what?" Suddenly, Grover seemed very interested in playing notes on his pipes.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn't ... I mean, your first assignment went wrong—"

"I can't talk about it," Grover said, and his quivering lower lip suggested he'd start crying if I pressed him. "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems."

".....I haven’t been exactly straight with you, Grover.” He perked up at that. "I don't care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother." Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Percy. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"I'm not doing it to help my father. He doesn't care about me. I don't care about him. I’m just an average guy, trying to avenge his mom" Grover gazed down from his tree branch.

"I wasn’t talking about your dad, Percy.” I whipped my head around to face him. “I know the gods just as well as a satyr can, and your dad, well, he’s uh....” Grover looked at the sea, almost scared of saying the wrong thing.

“A bad guy?”

Grover nodded very hesitantly, so soft I wasn't even sure if he did nod in the first place. “But I still think there’s a different reason why you wanted this quest. I think….you wanted out. I’m good at reading emotions, and even when we were scraping out of Medusa’s, you were still so much happier than you were back at Camp.”

I knew he was right. And I knew he knew. So, I just resigned myself to a nod. The silence was deafening after that, so I decided to try and help my bud out.

My hand focused on the polluted river in front of us, and I made a scooping motion. Like the water was my hand, it went in tune with my movements, and the trash was swept out of the river, and onto the picnic blanket.

Grover’s eyes widened, as he turned to me with a soft smile. He raised one of the cans, and took a bite. I cringed a little, but he just chuckled. “Heh, thanks Percy. You’re less of an average person than you think.”

Grover looked at the night sky, like he was thinking about that problem. "How about I take my first watch, huh? You get some sleep." I wanted to protest, but he started to play Mozart, soft and sweet, and I turned away, my eyes stinging.

After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep. In my dreams, I stood in complete darkness, except for a gaping, glowing pit. Gray mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead. They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm.

Looking down made me dizzy. The pit yawned so wide and was so bright, but I knew it must be bottomless.

Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.

But then, it was no longer the pit. Instead it was…

A food stand?

I was still in the empty darkness, but rather than a giant, super evil chasm, there was just a food stand next to a griller selling things covered by white cloth.

They were labeled: “Manticore Pizza” “Fried Medusa” and “Medium-Rare Minotaur”.

And in the center was a man leaning on the grill. He was in a baby blue suit, with a white apron and white chef’s hat. He held a spatula which was raised to his face, which was shrouded in the darkness.

Hey there, bud.

The voice felt ancient. Cold and heavy. It encircled me like a thick glass casing. And it was the same voice from my earlier dream, about those two men fighting.

Yes, apologies, DEAREST apologies. I know I came off a bit too strong, but please, hear me out, if you would be so kind.

“Who…who are you?” I found myself asking. He chuckled, although he didn’t seem to have a mouth.

The name’s unimportant. Now listen, I got a special deal, just for you. I’m affiliated with Hades, and I have a few trinkets that might just let your mama out of Thanatos’ sweet embrace.

I felt like I couldn’t trust this guy, especially with the very obviously evil voice. And as if the man was able to hear my thoughts, his voice changed to something much more smooth, though the ancientness of his voice was still very present.

Sorry for that, bud. I get it all the time. It’s just a byproduct of being around for ages. Now listen, bud. Just hear me out here. Barter with me, and you’ll learn the truth behind this whole quest of yours, you’ll get your mother back, and if you’re super cooperative, I’ll even give you a little more.

An invisible force pulled me forward.

Let me guess. You’re thinking: “What’s the catch? There’s always a catch.” And you’d be right! I want Zeus’s little Master Bolt. I love little trinkets like that, and I’d really appreciate it.

I didn’t want to even consider it, but on the other hand, this guy seemed so confident, it felt like any of my worries he’d already covered.

That I have. I know, stealing the Master Bolt is a really scary task. Good thing it’s already been done! I’ll tell you the details later. I’m going to give you time to think, but just know, the next time you go to sleep, just wait.

Now, up you go, my good man. And don’t die yet. Your mom still needs saving, don’t you see? Now, remember. Be ready when you sleep next. We can do this grilling thing that I’ve set up. If you kill enough monsters, we can invite all my siblings over, and have a nice Zeus-belly roast.

He licked his lips at the thought, before smiling and snapping.

Just you. And us.

My eyes opened, and it was daylight.

"Well," Annabeth said, "the zombie lives."

"How long was I asleep?" "Long enough for me to cook breakfast." Annabeth tossed me a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar.

"And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend." My eyes had trouble focusing. Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal. No. It wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a pink poodle. The poodle yapped at me suspiciously.

Grover said, "No, he's not." I blinked. "Are you ... talking to that thing?" The poodle growled. "This thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him." "You can talk to animals?" Grover ignored the question. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

I stared at Annabeth, figuring she'd crack up at this practical joke they were playing on me, but she looked deadly serious. "I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," I said. "Forget it."

"No," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle." The poodle growled.

I said hello to the poodle.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return.

Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover. "How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh." "Of course," I said. "Silly me." "So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money, and we buy train tickets. Simple. We have some money already, but it’s not enough to get to Los Angeles. And besides, we need to buy more food and water. This is our best bet.”

She pointed downhill, toward train tracks I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."

Chapter 12: I Promise I'm Not a Terrorist

Chapter Text

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. We weren’t attacked once, but I didn’t relax.

I felt that we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity.

I tried to keep a low profile because my name and picture were splattered over the back pages of several newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by some guy as I got off the Greyhound bus. It was hard to see my face, though.

My sword was a metallic blur in my hands. It might’ve been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The picture’s caption read:

“Missing 13-year old boy Percy Jackson and mother Sally Jackson still missing. Mr. Deimos, an esteemed samaritan, has supposedly seen a similar looking boy leaving a bus station, although due to lack of face recognition, it has yet to be seen if this truly is Percy Jackson. Please keep an eye out for this boy or his missing mother.”

The rest of the day I spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because I had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows. Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted for lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved.

I looked around the passenger car, but nobody else had noticed. The adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines. Another time, toward evening, I saw something huge moving through the woods.

I could’ve sworn it was a lion, except that lions don’t live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. Its fur glinted gold in the evening light. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone.

Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver.

I almost wanted to fall asleep, since then I could talk to that weird barbecuer, but thanks to Grover’s constant snoring, I had no such luck.

Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed. “So,” I asked her, once we’d gotten Grover’s sneakers readjusted. “Who were you talking to?” She froze. “What?”

“Back in that marsh, I heard you talking to someone. You kept mumbling stuff like ‘I can’t do that’. So, who were you talking to?”

Annabeth paused. “...none of your business.” For a second, I considered that she may have also had dreams of the barbecuer. But then I remembered he had given me an “exclusive offer”. I probably shouldn’t ask her about him.

“Well, fine then. I don’t care.” Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Clearly, you do care. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be asking.” I groaned. “Duh! What if you're talking to the barbecue guy too?” I internally facepalmed. So much for keeping him secret.

“The...barbecue guy?” Annabeth muttered to herself for a little while, before speaking up again. “Who’s the barbecue guy?” I crossed my arms and looked away. “None of your business.”

We went back to awkward silence, before Annabeth sighed. “Fine. But, if this ‘barbecue guy’ is trying to make a deal with you, don’t take it. That’s like, making deals rule one.”

Neither of each other spoke after that, so I listened to the sound of Grover snoring and gazed out the train windows as the dark fields of Ohio raced by.

Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis.

Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city. “I want to do that,” she sighed. “What?” I asked.

“Build something like that. Have you ever seen the Parthenon, Percy?”
“Only in pictures.”

“Someday, I’m going to see it in person. I’m going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that’ll last a thousand years.”

I laughed. “You? An architect?” I don’t know why, but I found it funny. Just the idea of Annabeth trying to sit quietly and draw all day.

Her cheeks flushed. “Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention.” I watched the churning brown water of the Mississippi below.

“Athena expects you to? So like, do you actually want to?” Annabeth paused. “What do you mean?” I shrugged. “I dunno. My dad wants me to save his butt from trouble, but I’m not going to do that if I don’t have to.”

Annabeth scoffed. “Obviously I want to. Unlike with your dad, I actually happen to have a good mom.”

For some reason, that felt wrong to hear.

“Sorry,” Annabeth said. “That was mean, I think.”

We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we’d have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver.

Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, “Food.” “Come on, goat boy,” Annabeth said. “Sightseeing.”

“Sightseeing?”

“The Gateway Arch,” she said. “This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?” Grover and I exchanged looks. I wanted to say no, but I figured that if Annabeth was going, we couldn’t very well let her go alone.

Grover shrugged. “As long as there’s a snack bar without monsters.” The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren’t that long.

We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn’t all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us semi-interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me the Berry Blue jelly beans, so I was okay.

I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. “Do you smell anything?” I murmured to Grover. He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff.

“Underground,” he said distastefully. “Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn’t mean anything.”

Probably? That wasn’t good. But if there was a monster, I’d do my best to kill it.

“Guys,” I said. “You know the gods’ symbols of power?” Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over.

“Yeah?”

“Well, Hade—” Grover cleared his throat. “We’re in a public place. . . . You mean, our friend downstairs?” “Um, right,” I said. “Our friend way downstairs. Doesn’t he have a hat like Annabeth’s?”

“You mean the Helm of Darkness,” Annabeth said. “Yeah, that’s his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting.” “He was there?” I asked. She nodded. “It’s the only time he bothers to visit Olympus, the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than my hat, if what I’ve heard is true…”

“It allows him to become darkness,” Grover confirmed. “He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can’t be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?”

“But then...how do we know he’s not here right now, watching us?” I asked. Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks. “We don’t,” Grover said. “Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better,” I said.

“Got any blue jelly beans left?” I’d almost mastered my jumpy nerves when I saw the tiny little elevator car we were going to ride to the top of the Arch, and I knew I was in trouble.

I hate confined places. They make me nuts. We got shoehorned into the car with this tall lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar with a green leash. I figured the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. Not my first pick for a seeing-eye dog, but sure.

We started going up, inside the Arch. I’d never been in an elevator that went in a curve, and my stomach wasn’t too happy about it. “No parents?” the lady asked us. She had beady eyes; coffee-stained teeth; a floppy snake-skin dress and a maroon denim jacket over it that looked like it was a cloak.

“They’re below,” Annabeth told her. “Scared of heights.” “Oh, the poor darlings.” The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, “Now, now, Chi-Chi. Behave.” The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, kiddies. I’m Ms. Tyfen. You?”

I gulped, but Annabeth seemed uninterested, too amazed by the architecture. “Annabeth,” She said, clearly not paying attention. Grover handed me some more Jelly Beans. “Grover” he said, a little more nervous.
I meanwhile couldn’t muster anything at the moment. She was so tall, she almost reached the top of the elevator.

She was definitely a monster.

As we reached the actual inside of the arch, we all looked around. Despite us having only eight days to stop Zeus and my dad from beating each other up or whatever was going to happen, I did have a nice time.

I looked outside the Arch through the windows, only to see something that made me gulp. Police. They were gathered outside. Maybe I shouldn’t be out in public so much.

The tall woman also seemed to get nervous. She quickly rushed to my side, where she poked me on the shoulder. Not like I needed to be any more aware of her presence.

“Excuse me young sir, but are you Perseus Jackson?” I gulped deeper this time. As confidently as I could, I turned around to meet her in the eyes, although I had to look at the ceiling, and say; “No, who’s that?”

The woman seemed very panicked at this point, and the dog agreed, quickly running off. The woman followed, as they both went down the elevator. But not before I heard her mutter, “Yes, I know that boy’s likely the one, but you know he won’t accept any room for error!”

The dog didn’t seem very happy, so eventually, the woman sighed. “Very well. But if you end up in the….pound, do not expect me to save you, Chimera.”

With that, she let go of the dog.

And it was no longer a chihuahua. First, it grew to the size of a Doberman, next a lion, and before I knew it, it was towering over me. At that point, Grover saw it too. He nervously tapped on Annabeth’s shoulder.

“What do you want-” She paused when she saw the beast. It had grown a mane, The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind.

The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: Chimera, Breed: Fire Breathing Poison Breath. If Found, Please Call Echidna Typhon at Tartarus-ext-954.

I realized I hadn’t even uncapped my sword. My hands were numb. I was ten feet away from the Chimera’s bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge.

I slowly uncapped the pen, releasing the sword from its cap.

Before I could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world’s largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at me.

It broke right through one of the windows, where I looked down to see the ocean. I looked back to see the Chimera. It looked more than pleased. It lunged at me, its giant body crashing through the side of the arch, tossing everyone inside. They all yelped as the side of the arch gave in, falling onto the ground below.

I then felt a sickening crunch, as my leg suddenly felt like it was stuck between two hydraulic presses. The Chimera had bit down on my leg.I slashed at its neck. That was my fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I tried to regain my balance, but I was so worried about defending myself against the fiery lion’s mouth, I completely forgot about the serpent tail until it whipped around and sank its fangs into my arm.

My arm jolted in pain, and before I realized what happened, a giant spike of water had impaled the Arch. It didn’t hit the Chimera, though. Sucks to be me today, huh?

The chimera growled, and before I knew it, it had grabbed me with its goat head. Then, I was in the air, swooping just a little above the Missipi River. I felt the pain surging through my bodies as all three heads let out noises of victory, carrying me off somewhere.

But I couldn’t just…die here, right? I still had to save my mom, and come back to….

Camp?

Yeah. I had to come back to camp. Chiron, he needed me to complete this quest. My mom needed me to save her. My idiotic dad needed me to save his sorry butt.

I couldn’t die here. I couldn’t die. Ever.

I lunged my free arm downward, then surged it back up. And immediately I regretted it. As now, it was like a tidal wave had come out of the Mississippi River. One that swallowed me, and the Chimera, whole.

Chapter 13: I Spend Some Quality Time Underwater

Chapter Text

I’d love to tell you I had some deep revelation on my way down, that I came to terms with my own mortality, laughed in the face of death, etc. The truth? My only thought was: Aaaaggghhhhh!

The river raced toward me at the speed of a truck. Wind ripped the breath from my lungs. Steeples and skyscrapers and bridges tumbled in and out of my vision. And then: Flaaa-boooom! A whiteout of bubbles.

I sank through the murk, sure that I was about to end up embedded in a hundred feet of mud and lost forever. But my impact with the water hadn’t hurt.

I was falling slowly now, bubbles and golden dust, probably from the chimera, trickling up through my fingers. I settled on the river bottom soundlessly. A catfish the size of my stepfather lurched away into the gloom.

Clouds of silt and disgusting garbage—beer bottles, old shoes, plastic bags—swirled up all around me.

At that point, I realized a few things: first, I had not been flattened into a pancake. I had not been barbecued. I couldn’t even feel the Chimera poison boiling in my veins anymore.

I was alive, which was good. Second realization: I wasn’t wet. Now, that would be normal, but not even my clothes had a drop. I could see where the fire on my clothes had been quenched. I unwrapped my crispy raincoat, and it immediately became soaked. I put it back on, and it was like it just came out of the dryer.

I looked at the garbage floating by and snatched an old cigarette lighter. No way, I thought. I flicked the lighter. It sparked. A tiny flame appeared, right there at the bottom of the Mississippi.

I grabbed a soggy hamburger wrapper out of the current and immediately the paper turned dry. I lit it with no problem.

As soon as I let it go, the flames sputtered out. The wrapper turned back into a slimy rag. Weird. But the strangest thought occurred to me only last: I was breathing. My mom always told me I could hold my breath for a really, really long time underwater, but this was a bit much, wasn’t it?

I was at the bottom of the Mississippi River. I definitely should not be breathing right now.

I stood up, thigh-deep in mud. My legs felt shaky. My hands trembled. I should’ve been dead. The fact that I wasn’t seemed like, well, a miracle.

I imagined a woman’s voice, a voice that sounded a bit like my mother: Percy, what do you say? “Um, thanks.” Underwater, I sounded like I did on recordings, like a much older kid.

No response. Just the dark drift of garbage downriver, the enormous catfish gliding by, the flash of sunset on the water’s surface far above, turning everything the color of butterscotch.

Why had Poseidon saved me? The more I thought about it, the more ashamed I felt. So I’d gotten lucky a few times before. Against a thing like the Chimera, I had never stood a chance.

Those poor people in the Arch were probably going to die from the lack of an Arch. And probably the people under the arch, due to the new presence of an Arch. I couldn’t protect them. I was no hero. Maybe I should just stay down here with the catfish, join the bottom feeders, twenty feet under the sea.

I heard that woman’s voice again: Percy, take the sword. Your father needs you to do this. This time, I knew the voice wasn’t in my head. I wasn’t imagining it.

Her words seemed to come from everywhere, rippling through the water like dolphin sonar. “Where are you?” I called aloud. Then, through the gloom, I saw her, a woman the color of the water, a ghost in the current, floating just above the sword. She had long billowing hair, and her eyes, barely visible, were green like mine.

A lump formed in my throat. I said, “Mom?” No, child, only a messenger, though your mother’s fate is not as hopeless as you believe. Go to the beach in Santa Monica. “What?” It is your father’s will. Before you descend into the Underworld, you must go to Santa Monica. Please, Percy, I cannot stay long. The river here is too foul for my presence.

There was so much I wanted to ask, the words jammed up in my throat. I cannot stay, brave one, the woman said. She reached out, and I felt the current brush my face like a caress.

You must go to Santa Monica! And, Percy, do not trust the gifts. Her voice faded. “Gifts?” I asked. “What gifts? Wait!” She made one more attempt to speak, but the sound was gone. Her image melted away.

If it was my mother, I would have lost her again. I felt like drowning myself. The only problem: I was immune to drowning. Your father believes in you, she had said. She’d also called me brave. Unless she was talking to the catfish.

I waded toward Riptide and grabbed it by the hilt. The Chimera might still be up there, waiting to finish me off. Maybe it got out of the water just in time, and was flying above me right now.

At the very least, the mortal police would be arriving, trying to figure out who had blown a hole in the Arch. If they found me, they’d have some questions. I capped my sword, stuck the ballpoint pen in my pocket.

I swam over to get a better look. I kept only a little of my head above water, just enough to get a good look at the damage. Firefighters were surrounding the scene, alongside two news teams. One was labeled Talos News, and the other was labeled Neptune Daily.

A news guy for Talos News was talking for the camera: “Probably not a terrorist attack, we’re told, but it’s still very early in the investigation. The damage, as you can see, is very serious. We’re trying to get to some of the survivors, to question them about eyewitness reports of someone falling from the Arch.” Survivors. I felt a surge of relief.

I saw the Neptune Daily reporter talking on the other side of the arch. “A giant water spout seems to have destroyed a side of the building, as seen from camera footage. The boy and dog who were seen falling out the building have yet to be identified, but eyewitnesses report it may have been the missing boy from a case we covered a while back, named Percy Jackson. Whatever caused this sudden attack on this national monument is clearly a sign of unpredictable weather to come. We can only pray that the weather takes mercy on us here in America. Back to you, Ms. Amphitrite.”

Meanwhile, I heard what the finishing remarks of the Talon News guy were; “Percy Jackson’s father, Gabriel Ugliano, has this to say quote: ‘That boy has always been rather rambunctious, so I don’t know why he’s gone off on this tear through the country. I just hope him getting found will lead to my wife being found too.’ Despite this, police have yet to find Sally Jackson among the survivors. Which leads us to wonder. Where are the two missing members of Gabriel’s family? And what did Percy do to end up in these situations? I suppose only he knows. Back to you, Helen.”

As both news crews began to pack up, I did one last swim of the area, making sure to keep my head as low as possible. And yet, I couldn’t see Annabeth or Grover anywhere. That was until I saw some blonde locks and a rasta beanie fleeing from the scene, going into the city.

I grumbled as I swam after them. They really just thought I was dead and moved on, huh?

I swam through the river a little further, before seeing them up ahead, approaching the main city, whose population was all outside, staring at the damage.

So much so, that only a little kid saw me leave the waters. A block away, every emergency vehicle in St. Louis was surrounding the Arch. Police helicopters circled overhead. The crowd of onlookers reminded me of Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

A little girl said, “Mama! That boy walked out of the river.” “That’s nice, dear,” her mother said, craning her neck to watch the ambulances. “But he’s dry!” “That’s nice, dear.”

When I snuck past them and into the city, I spotted Grover and Annabeth trying to get as far away as possible.

Right before Annabeth was going to put on her cap, I grabbed both their shoulders. They spun around, and gasped.

“Were you just going to leave me there?”

Annabeth paused for a second, before nodding. “Yeah, people die on quests. We kind of just assumed you got killed by the chimera.”

Grover bleated. “What! I tried to go back!” Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but then we would’ve been interviewed by the news team. And I really don’t want to deal with that.”

I couldn’t help but get a little ticked off about that. “I can’t believe you.” Annabeth raised an eyebrow as her eyes moved upward. “And I can’t believe that my nickname actually makes sense now.”

“Huh?”

Grover pointed to the seaweed I hadn’t realized had surfaced on my head while I was swimming. “Are you going to eat that, or can I have it?”

Chapter 14: We Eat a Military Sponsored Cheeseburger

Chapter Text

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn’t eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas.

My two fellow questers hadn’t taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and that was obvious. “Let’s try to contact Chiron,” Annabeth said. “I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit.”

Annbaeth turned to me. “Give me your phone, I want to make a call.”

I smiled sheepishly. “If I had a phone, it would’ve been fried already.” Annabeth sighed. “You didn’t even bring a phone with you when you came on this quest? How unprepared are you, seaweed brain?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to be using that insult more often.”

“You bet.” She muttered, as she pulled out her phone. She scrolled through a few apps, before reaching one labeled IRIS. She sighed. “Right. Need some water. I’m not spending thirty-drachmas a month for premium membership.”

We wandered around the city for a while, before Annabeth found a car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were three adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good.

“What exactly are we doing?” I asked, as Grover inserted some nickels from the backpack into the car wash . “Making a rainbow. Iris is a cruel businesswoman.”

He pressed a few buttons for a 10 second car wash, and started the process. We watched for a second as the car wash did its thing, before Annabeth held out her phone.

Annabeth held her palm out to Grover. “Drachma, please.” Grover handed one over. She raised the coin over her head. “O goddess, accept our offering.” She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer.

“Half-Blood Hill,” Annabeth requested. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance.

We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House. Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

“Luke!” I called. He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist.

“Percy!” His scarred face broke into a grin.. Annabeth scowled. “Is that Annabeth and Grover, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?”

Annabeth scoffed as she looked away. “What, did you expect one of us to die? Who would be stupid enough to die so early on?” I glared at her. She was definitely talking about me.

“Luke, do you know where Chiron is?” Grover asked, and Luke looked off in a different direction. “Uh, yeah! Chiron’s-oh-uh oh.” We heard some rattling and screams, as Luke rushed off camera for a moment.

Annabeth scoffed. “I’m out of here. I’ll be keeping watch for cars. Grover, you’ll watch the other end.” “What?” Grover said. “But—” “Give him the phone and come on!” she ordered.

Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle at Delphi, then he handed me the phone and followed Annabeth.

“Chiron had to break up a fight,” Luke shouted to me over the music.

“Things are pretty tense here, Percy. Word leaked out about the Zeus–Poseidon standoff. Dionysus told his kids, who told the rest of us. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It’s shaping up like the Trojan War all over again.” He looked out of frame for a second, and yelled some words I couldn’t make out.

“So what’s your status?” Luke asked me. “Chiron will be sorry he missed you.” I told him pretty much everything, including my dreams. I knew it made me sound like a lunatic, but I needed to confide in someone, and it sure wasn’t going to be Annabeth.

“Hey, Percy, it’s okay. You’re not crazy.” I perked up. “Really?” Luke smiled a little sadder, but kept his head held high. “Yeah. That’s been happening to a lot of folk here at camp. Dreams, about a guy who seeks to make deals with them. Not so sure about that barbecue, but I can ask around.”

“Do you get them?” Luke nodded. “Yeah. Though it's mostly the unclaimed kids. I gotta go soon, we’re going to eat dinner, but check in on me whenever you feel like. Check on all the campers going through the same struggle as you. You’re not alone, Percy. Trust me.”

I smiled at that. Even if Annabeth was always getting on my nerves, at least I knew Luke would be there at the end of this. As long as I lived through it.

Yeah, I should probably focus on living first, finishing the quest second, and returning back to that campsite third.

Luke signed off as he walked off screen, and I closed the app.

Annabeth and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw my face. Annabeth’s smile faded. “What happened? What did Luke say?” “Not much,” I lied, my stomach feeling as empty as a Big Three cabin. “Come on, let’s find some dinner.”

“Why don’t we just use normal texting?” Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Sure Seaweed Brain. After all, texting totally has portals.”

A few minutes later, we were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner, it looked like it hadn’t been remodeled since the 60’s.

All around us, families were eating burgers and drinking malts and sodas. I looked at the counter, where guys in suits were eating, completely disheveled.

And for a split second, I swear I saw a reflection of the griller guy through the shiny, chrome plated bar. But when I blinked, he was gone.

Finally the waitress came over.

She raised her eyebrow skeptically. “Well?” I said, “We, um, want to order dinner.” “You kids have money to pay for it?” Grover’s lower lip quivered. I was afraid he would start bleating, or worse, start eating the linoleum. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger. I nodded, and pulled out a ten dollar bill.

I tried to find something bigger, but only then did I figure we should’ve been more conservative with our spending. Maybe those jelly beans weren’t worth twenty bucks.

I looked at the menu, but a ten-dollar bill would only get one hamburger for us to split. I was about to spin some sob story, before a rumble shook the whole building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb. All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle’s headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns.

The guy on the bike would’ve made pro wrestlers run for Mama. He was dressed in a camo tank top and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had the cruelest, most brutal face I’d ever seen.

Handsome, I guess, but wicked, with an oily black crew cut and cheeks that were scarred from many, many fights.

As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again. Everybody went back to their conversations.

The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked us again, “You kids have money to pay for it?” The biker said, “It’s on me.” He slid into our booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth against the window.

He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, “Are you still here?” He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she’d been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen.

The biker looked at me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the red shades, but bad feelings started boiling in my stomach. Anger, resentment, bitterness. I wanted to hit a wall. I wanted to pick a fight with somebody. Who did this guy think he was?

He looked us all up and down, before smirking. “You’re my cousin, aren't cha?” I had never met this man in my life until now. “Sorry, sorry, I know it gets confusing. I’m Ares. You might know me from my military recruitment business, or my Twitter account.”

“Ares? As in, war god?” Ares smiled a little prouder. “Ay, glad to see kids still know the nicest god around!” For some reason, I think he meant that completely literally.

“I broke your daughter’s spear.” I blurted out, before Annabeth shot me a venomous glare. Ares rolled his eyes. “Which one?” Grover gulped. “Which daughter or which spear?” Ares pulled down his shades for a split second. “Both.”

The waitress came back with heaping trays of food. Cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes. Ares handed her a few gold drachmas. She looked nervously at the coins. “But, these aren’t-” Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. “Problem, sweetheart?” The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold.

Annabeth sighed. “Is there a reason you’re here? I assume a god like you would rather be up in Olympus than hang out with preteens at a diner.”

Ares nodded. “Exactamundo! See, I really love fighting. But, what’s about to happen is gonna be a real pain for all of you if you can’t get to that lightning bolt. So, here’s what’s going to go down. You’ll do some errand for me, and in return, I’ll get you all to Vegas before morning.”

“And why would we do that? We’re doing just fine.” Annabeth scoffed, and Ares let out a belly laugh. “You’re kidding, right? Those tacky orange shirts are covering a skeleton! You’ll starve to death before you make it! Face it, kiddos. You need me.”

I grabbed an onion ring and nibbled it dejectedly. “Why help us? Don't you like war? Shouldn’t you try to make it worse?” Ares snatched a chocolate shake, and downed the whole thing in one gulp.

“Because, I’m not as dumb as Athena likes to pretend I am.” He sent an unsubtle elbow in Annabeth’s direction, which she dodged. Which caused a crack to open in the wall.

“You’re right. I love war. But Athena’s the tactician, and I’m the fighter. All she cares about is keeping things sanitary and orderly. But war shouldn’t be orderly! War should be the strong fighting desperately to protect the weak back home, clawing and drawing blood just for the chance to fight another day! The only battle Athena wants is on the courtroom floor.”

He scowled at the thought. “There’s no art in that.” He quickly returned to his smirk.

“But! That can change with you! A war’s going to break out regardless, that’s inevitable. My plan is to get demigods like you to solve all the petty little squabbles, so the only reasons that they would fight would be something truly…..artistic. Sure, some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make!”

For some reason, his words actually felt motivating. I wanted to fight, but I didn’t know why.

“So what’s that chore you wanted us to do?”

Ares smiled. “Ah, that! Right. I got sidetracked there. Basically, Zeus doesn’t want us helping you. So I’ll just send you off to get a shield I left in an amusem*nt park. When you come back, I’ll ‘accidentally’ leave behind three of my horses.”

He counted us, as if he was forgetting how many of us there were. “Yeah, that’s enough. They know where to go, so you’ll just need to give a stern talking with our uncle-” He pointed at me. “And take that bolt.”

I looked at Annabeth, then at Grover. Annabeth stared blankly, Grover shook his head frantically, but I stood my ground. “Tell us where that amusem*nt park is.”

Ares’s smirk grew a little wider.

The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time we found the water park. Judging from the sign, it once had been called Waterland, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read Watrad.

The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry water slides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisem*nts fluttered around the asphalt.

With night coming on, the place looked sad and creepy.

“If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date,” I said, staring up at the barbed wire, “I’d hate to see what they’d do for a wedding.”

“So how do we get in?” “Maia!” Grover’s shoes sprouted wings. He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the opposite side.

He dusted off his jeans, as if he’d planned the whole thing. “You guys coming?” Annabeth and I had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as we crawled over the top.

The shadows grew long as we walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where’s My Swimsuit?

No monsters came to get us. Nothing made the slightest noise. We found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of clothes.

“Clothes,” Annabeth said. “Fresh clothes.” “Yeah,” I said. “But you can’t just—” “Watch me.” She snatched an entire row of stuff of the racks and disappeared into the changing room.

A few minutes later she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland T-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, obviously stuffed with more goodies.

“What the heck.” Grover shrugged. Soon, all three of us were decked out like walking advertisem*nts for the defunct theme park.

We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. I got the feeling that the whole park was holding its breath.

Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from us, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read, THRILL RIDE O’ LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS’ TUNNEL OF LOVE!

Grover crept toward the edge. “Guys, look.” Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink and white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it.

In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares’s shield, a polished circle of bronze. “This is too easy,” I said. “So we just walk down there and get it?” Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue. “There’s a Greek letter carved here,” she said.

“Eta. I wonder . . .” “Grover,” I said, “you smell any monsters?” He sniffed the wind. “Nothing.” “Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn’t-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?” Grover looked hurt. “I told you, that was underground.” “Okay, I’m sorry.”

I took a deep breath. “I’ll go with you.” Grover didn’t sound too enthusiastic, but I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what had happened in St. Louis.

“No,” I told him. “I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You’re the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember? I’ll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong.”

Grover puffed up his chest a little. “Sure. But what could go wrong?” “I don’t know. Just a feeling. Besides that, what’s the-”

Suddenly, Annabeth pushed me into the tunnel. “Come on already, Seaweed Brain. Go get the shield.”

“Are you kidding?” I sputtered, and she looked at me as if I’d just muttered the stupidest thing in the world. “No. You’re the dumbest or whatever, why can’t you just be blindly optimistic like always?”

“Because that is so obviously a death trap!” Annabeth pinched the crook of her nose in frustration. How was I being the annoying one here? “Just go with me. Then maybe we’ll survive the death trap.”

Annabeth groaned. “Fine.”

We reached the boat. The shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady’s silk scarf. I tried to imagine Ares and Aphrodite here, a couple of gods meeting in a junked-out amusem*nt-park ride.

Why? Then I noticed something I hadn’t seen from up top: mirrors all the way around the rim of the pool, facing this spot. We could see ourselves no matter which direction we looked.

That must be it, while Ares and Aphrodite were smooching with each other they could look at their favorite people: themselves.

“Wait,” Annabeth said. “Too late.” “There’s another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap.” Noise erupted all around us, of a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool were turning into one giant machine.

Grover yelled, “Guys!” Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before I could suggest taking cover, they shot, but not at us. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool.

Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk.

Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net. “We have to get out,” I said. “Duh!” Annabeth said.

I grabbed the shield and we ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down. “Come on!” Grover shouted. He was trying to hold open a section of the net for us, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands.

The Cupids’ heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed:

“Hello inventors, we’re back with Eta Tech!” I paled, before Annabeth glared at me, like she knew I knew something. “What’s Eta Tech?“ She said with deadly venom. I gulped. “W-well, it’s this big Youtube channel, that does like, tech showcases and stuff.”

Annabeth facepalmed. “That was Hephaestus! This is the Net of Hephaestus! They’re identical! He must’ve been trying to capture Ares and Aphrodite again!”

We’d almost made it to the rim when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of tiny metallic things poured out. Annabeth screamed.

It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward us in a wave of clacking, whirring metal.

“Spiders!” Annabeth said. “Sp—sp—aaaah!” I’d never seen her like this before. She fell backward in terror and almost got overwhelmed by the spider robots before I pulled her up and dragged her back toward the boat.

“Just sit back and relax, inventors, we’ll be live in thirty seconds!”

The things were coming out from all around the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding us.

I told myself they probably weren’t programmed to kill, just corral us and bite us and make us look stupid. Then again, this was a trap meant for gods. And we weren’t gods. Annabeth and I climbed into the boat.

I started kicking away the spiders as they swarmed aboard. I yelled at Annabeth to help me, but she was too paralyzed to do much more than scream.

“Thirty, twenty-nine,” called the loudspeaker. The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders just kept coming.

I kicked one away from Annabeth’s leg and its pincers took a chunk out of my new surf shoe. Grover hovered above the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn’t budge. Think, I told myself.

Think. The Tunnel of Love entrance was under the net. We could use it as an exit, except that it was blocked by a million robot spiders. “Fifteen, fourteen,” the loudspeaker called. Water, I thought. Where does the ride’s water come from?

Then I saw them: huge water pipes behind the mirrors, where the spiders had come from. And up above the net, next to one of the Cupids, a glass-windowed booth that must be the controller’s station.

“Grover!” I yelled. “Get into that booth! Find the ‘on switch!” “But—” “Do it!” It was a crazy hope, but it was our only chance. The spiders were all over the prow of the boat now. Annabeth was screaming her head off.

I had to get us out of there. Grover was in the controller’s booth now, slamming away at the buttons. “Five, four—” Grover looked up at me hopelessly, raising his hands. He was letting me know that he’d pushed every button, but still nothing was happening.

I closed my eyes and thought about waves, rushing water, and the Mississippi River. I felt a familiar tug in my gut. I tried to imagine that I was dragging the ocean all the way to Denver.

“Two, one, zero!” Water exploded out of the pipes. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. I pulled Annabeth into the seat next to me and fastened her seat belt just as the tidal wave slammed into our boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing us completely, but not capsizing us.

The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool.

The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool’s concrete wall with such force they burst. Spotlights glared down at us.

The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus. But I could only concentrate on controlling the boat. I willed it to ride the current, to keep away from the wall. Maybe it was my imagination, but the boat seemed to respond. At least, it didn’t break into a million pieces.

We spun around one last time, the water level now almost high enough to shred us against the metal net. Then the boat’s nose turned toward the tunnel and we rocketed through into the darkness.

Annabeth and I held tight, both of us screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine’s Day stuff.

Then we were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through our hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit. If the ride had been in working order, we would’ve sailed off a ramp between the Golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool.

But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before us were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half.

“Unfasten your seat belt,” I yelled to Annabeth. “Are you crazy?” “Unless you want to get smashed to death.” I strapped Ares’s shield to my arm. “We’re going to have to jump for it.” My idea was simple and insane.

As the boat struck, we would use its force like a springboard to jump the gate. I’d heard of people surviving car crashes that way, getting thrown thirty or forty feet away from an accident. With luck, we would land in the pool.

“On my mark,” I said. “No! On my mark!”

“What?”

“Simple physics!” she yelled.

“Force times the trajectory angle-” “Fine!” I shouted. “On your mark!”

She hesitated, then yelled, “Now!”

Crack! Annabeth was right. If we’d jumped when I thought we should’ve, we would’ve crashed into the gates. She got us maximum lift.

Unfortunately, that was a little more than we needed. Our boat smashed into the pileup and we were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, over the pool, and down toward solid asphalt. Something grabbed me from behind. Annabeth yelled, “Ouch!” Grover! In midair, he had grabbed me by the shirt, and Annabeth by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but Annabeth and I had all the momentum.

“You’re too heavy!” Grover said. “We’re going down!” We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall. We smashed into a photo-board, Grover’s head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale.

Annabeth and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares’s shield was still on my arm. Once we caught our breath, Annabeth and I got Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives.

I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates. A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces.

“It’s time to end the stream, Hephaestus!” I yelled. “Go do an ad read or something!” The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love’s exit pool. I wondered if Hephaestus had actually listened, or if he had cameras watching us from elsewhere.

Either way, I was tired of this quest already. And I knew Ares had something to do with it.

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

“Ah, there you are! Bout damn time!”

Ares gave me a wicked grin. “Nah, but I knew Hephaestus had built it. And that dude’s always testing his freaky tech out on me, so I had a hunch.”

I threw him his shield. He took a look around at it, before smiling. He snapped his fingers, and the shield transformed into a Yield sign. “Thanks, kid. I owe you one.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You do, remember? My- sorry, our ride?” Ares pulled down his shades a little. “That was just a little excuse to reward you. But seriously man,” He held out a fist. “I owe you one.”

I nervously hit his fist against mine, and I swear there were burn marks when I pulled back.

“So, you rats! You get your pick of my steeds! I got four of em’, so you have plenty of options!”

He waved his hand in front of the parking lot, and one of the cars started to move. A Mustang, a Bronco, a Porsche, and a Colt, all began to rumble.

Their engines roared to life, and suddenly, their steely frames melded into crimson hides, manes flew free and their wheels became bucked legs, which stretched themselves to stand tall.

And before we could comprehend the sight in front of us, four stallions were in the place of the cars. “Sorry kiddos, couldn’t let you have my actual chariot, so you get the baby version.”

He gestured to his motorcycle, but my eyes were too focused on the giant flaming horses to notice.

Ares chuckled to himself. “Ah, and don’t worry about communication. They know where to drop you off.” When I took a closer look, I could see the resemblance to a mule, a zebra, a normal horse, and a donkey.

“Take these too, or else they might throw you off.” He tossed us three bags of vegetables. “And you know what, take this with you. Only use it if you get jumped, though.” He tossed me a taser, which for whatever reason, I felt was unnecessary, when I already had Riptide. I stuffed it in my raincoat jacket pocket.

And before I knew it, we were on our horses, and I was on the zebra. Annabeth had taken the stallion, leaving Grover with the mule. Ares made the donkey transform back into a Mustang, and drove off.

We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip.

Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts. “That pine-tree bead,” I said. “Is that from your first year?” She looked. She hadn’t realized what she was doing.

“Yeah,” she said. “Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year’s beads. I’ve got Thalia’s pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now that was a weird summer.”

“And the college ring is your father’s?”

“That’s none of your—” She stopped herself. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.” I could tell she was expecting me to ask about it. But she was pretty obviously uncomfortable. Maybe if we got to know each other better in action, she’d tell me more in words.

“It’s okay, you can tell me when you want.” I think for the first time since she used me as bait, Annabeth didn’t smirk, but genuinely smiled at me.

“I want to sleep, but what if I fall off the horse?” I asked, worriedly. I saw Grover about to reassure me, but the zebra beat him to it.

Don’t worry, sir! The zebra spoke in a militaristic tone, like he was about to give me twenty push ups on the spot. ‘Boss has instructed me to specifically stop you at all costs from falling off!’

“How are you talking to me?” Your father is Poseidon! Lord of horses! Boss hates him, but as my creator, I don’t really get an opinion!’ Did this zebra ever stop yelling? I didn’t know voices in my head could have volume, but this horse managed to, regardless.

When the zebra went quiet, I took it as him not wanting to talk anymore. And with that, I laid on my back, and despite the seemingly bumpy ride, it was like I was in a nice comfy car.

As I went to sleep, I swear I could even see the car I was in. I must’ve been really tired.

Chapter 15: Time Traveling: Laser Tag Edition

Chapter Text

And then I stood up. I was in a car. In fact, I was surrounded by others. I was in a convertible, in front of a giant car dealership, with pennant strings surrounding me like a web.

I felt a presence beside me, and saw a punk-esc girl sleeping in the passenger seat. She felt completely foreign, yet like I’ve known her my whole life. I decided to leave the car, and step into the parking lot.

Before I could step away from the car, I heard a fake cough from behind me, trying to get my attention. I turned around, and saw the barbecue guy from before, except he had swapped out his barbecuing clothes for a blue and gold checkered suit, topped with a purple tie.

His hat had been lost at some point, showing off his slicked back gray hair. He had teal shaded sunglasses, which hid his lack of eyes. And somehow, he had found himself a mouth and nose.

I know, great right? And it’s all thanks to you, friend!

“M-me? But I haven’t done anything!” The man chuckled.

Don’t sell yourself short, friend. Just by continuing your journey, you’re helping me more than you know. I even got a background and face, thanks to my increasing budget.

“O…okay. So, I helped you. Can you fulfill your end of the deal, now?” He laughed a little louder.

Sorry, I get you haven’t slept in a hot minute, so I’ll rehash the details for you. Your purpose is to help me take the bolt from Zeus, but I know you want to kill him.

Did I? I was being really inconvenienced by him right now, but want to see him dead?

You hate him as much as everyone else, right? He’s a terrible guy, trust me.

The man scowled. I guess I really did hate him, if such a cheery guy like him was frowning at the thought of Zeus.

Did you know he drugged someone into spitting up their lunch? Anyway! That’s your thing. Just get me that Master Bolt. I’ll have one of my pals relay it to you, and I’ll explain where to find me once you complete your quest.

“Why only after?” I asked, and the man slung his arm around me.

You see kid, Zeus, the scum that he is, is currently stalking you. Watching everything you do. All the gods are. But, once you get rid of that side quest, you can complete that favor for me, and I’ll get you and your mom to safety, just as promised.

I honestly couldn’t remember the details of the deal, so I took his word for it. The man seemed to nod at that. I forgot he could hear my thoughts.

So, we never actually got to it, but do we have a pact?

“A pact?”

Yeah, all that “deal with the devil” malarkey just isn’t my style. We’re pals, we’re friends, so this is just a pact between buds, you get it, right?

Nervously, I nodded. The man smiled wider.

But don’t think that’s all! The worst parts of contracts are that they’re not flexible. But I’m all about flexibility. I mentioned last time if you did more I’d give you a better reward, so here’s some extra modules you can add, if you feel like it.

Suddenly, a whiteboard fell from the sky, onto the parking lot. The man pulled out a dry erase marker and began to write.

Here’s the first option. We’re just trying to nab that bolt for now, but if you can find a way to take down the whole godly system, and give power back to mortals and demi-citizens such as yourself, I’ll give you as much security as you need. You’ll never have to see Smelly Gabe again.

I froze up. How did he know about that? Did I mention that when we were talking last time?

You did, actually. I was really glad you did that, it really established a bond between us. I totally couldn’t just read your mind for something buried that deep, so I’m very happy you trust me that much.

Did I trust this guy? He didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, he did sound a little weird when we first met, but that wasn’t his fault. Yeah, I guess I did trust him.

Thanks for understanding, kid. But! We still have much more to discuss. And since you’re probably in Utah right now, we still have a while. So sit down with that lovely lass right there, would you?

I subconsciously nodded, and I was compelled to get back in the car with the punk girl. Make her feel comfortable, the poor girl got struck down by Zeus, so she needs all the comfort she can get.

I looked at the girl, who shivered as he said that. That phrasing, ‘struck down’, that means this girl….was probably Thalia.

Oh, is that her name? She’s been like this for years, just showed up one day. I only got the budget to feature her recently, though. Weird. Anyway! Here’s your second option.

He gestured to the whiteboard, which had a flimsy drawing of three people on horses, which I guess were Annabeth, Grover and I.

Exactly. See, I know you asked her about me, and I totally get it. This looks pretty shady, which is why I added the sun. He gestured to the disco ball that was acting as a sun for the entire car dealership.

In simple terms, your second bonus would come from you getting more people on board. You told that blonde guy about me, which I don’t know why he said he knew me. I never saw him before I looked into your mind.

Why would he lie is probably what you’re thinking, and honestly, no idea. Maybe he was trying to make you feel better about it.

But, it is true! While not as exclusive, I reached out to some poor unclaimed kids to try and boost their spirits. Now, I’d hate to put kids in danger, you know that.

I nodded again without thinking. I knew he wouldn’t want to put anyone in danger, he even got the master bolt without sending me on a giant deadly quest, unlike my dad.

Precisely, so the errands I have the kids run is nothing compared to the ones gods send people on. Just little things like making a Go-Fund-Me for replacing the Talos News staff.

And now you’re thinking: That’s it? Yup! I’m not a sociopath, bud. It’s not like I’m trying to get you killed, unlike a certain someone.

In fact, that’s where you come in. If you can help shut down Talos news, I’ll really owe you one. It’s run by Zeus, and as long as that rat has a platform, he’ll always resurface.

I know what you’re thinking. How? Easy. Keep being you. I know you’ve seen the papers recently, they’re all about you.

Although, I have heard the newspaper is outdated, so maybe attack him on social media. One of the kids told me that’s much more effective these days. Sounds good?

I was about to say yes, when the man looked to the sky and pointed. Oh, would you look at that? You’re at the border of Nevada, and your friends are trying to wake you up. That Annabeth girl is quite the bossy one, isn’t she? You should stop listening to her so much. Be independent, you know?

He slapped the back of the car and smirked. Looks like our meeting has to be cut short. But hey, kill a few more monsters for me, would you? I might get this car a shiny new paint job, then we can take this sweet ride all the way to Olympus. Kill a few gods, and it’ll be a great time, you know?

I felt myself waking up, and I clutched onto Thalia’s arm.Relax, she’ll be fine. Has been for years, why not now? Just get a good night's sleep, buddy.And we’ll all be waiting for you when you do.

I sprung up from my place on the ground, before I registered I was no longer on the horse.

We stumbled out into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred and ten degrees, easy, and we must’ve looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay us much attention.

We passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. We passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty, which was a pretty small replica, but still made me homesick. I wasn’t sure what we were looking for.

Maybe just a place to get out of the heat for a few minutes, find a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, make a new plan for getting west.

We must have taken a wrong turn, because we found ourselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino.

The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air-conditioning that smelled like flowers—lotus blossom, maybe.

I’d never smelled one, so I wasn’t sure, but it smelled a lot like the candles my mom used to buy before Gabe started throwing them for smelling too “hippie” for his house.

The doorman smiled at us. “Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?” I’d learned to be suspicious, the last week or so. I figured anybody might be a monster or a god. You just couldn’t tell. But this guy was normal. Pink and white gradient buttoned vest, with a white undershirt and white dress pants. It made me think he was actually in all white, but someone spilled pink lemonade on him or something.

Besides, I was so relieved to hear somebody who sounded sympathetic that I nodded and said we’d love to come in. Inside, we took one look around, and Grover said, “Whoa.” The whole lobby was a giant game room. And I’m not talking about cheesy old Pac-Man games or slot machines.

There was an indoor waterslide snaking around the glass elevator, which went straight up at least forty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee jumping bridge. There were virtual-reality suits with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV.

Basically, you name it, this place had it. There were a few other kids playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving a bunch of food I think I once saw at a Thai food marketplace.

“Hey!” a bellhop said. At least I guessed he was a bellhop. He wore a white-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt with flowery designs, shorts, and flip-flops. “Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here’s your room key.”

I stammered, “Um, but . . .” “No, no,” he said, laughing. “The bill’s taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, room 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk.

Here are your LotusCash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides.” He handed us each a pink plastic credit card. I knew there must be some mistake. Obviously he thought we were some millionaire’s kids. But I took the card and said, “How much is on here?” His eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean?

“I mean, when does it run out of cash?”

He laughed. “Oh, you’re making a joke. Hey, that’s cool. Enjoy your stay.” We took the elevator upstairs and checked out our room. It was a suite with three separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. A hotline to room service.

Fluffy towels and water beds with feather pillows. A big-screen television with satellite and high-speed Internet. The balcony had its own hot tub, and sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and plug them with your gun.

I didn’t see how that could be legal, but I thought it was pretty cool. The view over the Strip and the desert was amazing, though I doubted we’d ever find time to look at the view with a room like this.

“Oh, goodness,” Annabeth said. “This place is-” “Sweet,” Grover said. “Absolutely sweet.” She agreed. There were clothes in the closet, and they fit me. That made me uncomfortable. The only clothes that I owned that fit me was my red raincoat, still wrapped around my waist, so how did these guys know mine?

I took a shower for the first time since leaving camp, and for all the hype from the rest of the hotel, I still felt as dry as usual.

. I changed clothes, ate a bag of chips dusted with grinded Lotus Flower, drank three Lotus flavored co*kes, and came out feeling better than I had in a long time. In the back of my mind, some small problem kept nagging me.

I’d had a dream of the ol’ salesman again, I needed to talk to Luke. But I was sure it could wait. I came out of the bedroom and found that Annabeth and Grover had also showered and changed clothes. Grover was eating potato chips to his heart’s content, while Annabeth cranked up the National Geographic Channel.

“All those stations,” I told her, “and you turn on National Geographic. Are you insane?” “It’s interesting.” “I feel good,” Grover said. “I love this place.” Without even realizing it, the wings sprouted out of his shoes and lifted him a foot off the ground, then back down again. He kicked them off dismissively. “So what now?” Annabeth asked. “Sleep?”

Grover and I looked at each other and grinned.

We both held up our green plastic LotusCash cards. “Play time,” I said. He was already putting on his fake feet, and before Annabeth could say a word, we were off.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun.

We ran out to the games, and I noticed the other two eating some of the curries being handed out. But how could I eat?

I bungee-jumped the lobby five or six times, did the waterslide, snowboarded the artificial ski slope, and played virtual-reality laser tag and FBI sharpshooter.

I saw Grover a few times, going from game to game. He really liked the reverse hunter thing—where the deer go out and shoot the rednecks. I saw Annabeth playing trivia games and other brainiac stuff.

They had this huge 3-D sim game where you build your own city, and you could actually see the holographic buildings rise on the display board. I didn’t think much of it, but Annabeth loved it.

This place was great, so many fancy, shiny items that could be pawned off, and finally- oh, alright. I get it. Stealing is bad but…

I kinda wanted to pocket some things, just so I could gift them to my mom if I could find her. I knew it was sleazy, but how else was anything going to change?

At that thought, my entire night got ruined in a blip. What was going to change at the end of this? Right now, I was sitting inside of a booth featuring a game about building some giant wooden horse.

An olive skinned boy with shaggy black hair was in the booth next to me, and he looked so happy, and I wanted to be happy too. This was paradise. But I had been running out of anger to express, so what exactly was my end goal here?

Get my mom back. That’s what I’d been telling myself. And it’s true, I’d love nothing more then to get her back. But what then? My mom definitely wouldn’t let me quit school. Gabe wouldn’t change, in fact, he’d probably get worse. To both her and me.

Grover had that searching license, so he probably wouldn’t be going to school anymore. So what exactly was I struggling for?

I shrugged it off. I wouldn’t let my depressing thoughts ruin this for me. I looked at the olive skinned boy, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, wanna hit the lazer tag as a team?”

He grinned. “Sure!” He looked about a year or two younger than me, and it showed in how nimble this kid was.

The second we put on the vests, the kid was off, taking out a few other people in a matter of seconds. And that’s when I started noticing some things.

The people in here were dressed really weirdly. I shot an Elvis impersonator, and a woman with a hairstyle like a beehive.

I saw the scruffy kid appear from the shadows and sniped a girl in a frilly wedding dress. I hid behind a pillar and shot at a few more normally dressed people.

We eventually found each other again, and went back-to-back as we finished off the remaining competition, until all that was left was a giant burly man in more armor than I was sure was given out by the casino.

“Hey, kid, what’s your name?”

“Nico, you?”

“Percy.”

Ok, good job Percy. You got a good conversation going. Now, all I needed was to ask one question. It’d sound so weird if I asked ‘Hey, is that guy a viking?’, so I had to try a different route.

I shot the burly guy in the shoulder, to which he let out a battle cry as he left the arena, leaving us as the only two left.

“What’s the date?”

Nico smirked. “You’re not going to distract me that easily.”

“Ok fine, after this.” I shot at Nico, which he unsurprisingly dodged, and his next shot grazed my cheek. Trying to end this quickly, I lunged just past him, aiming for a back shot.

“I win.” I declared, confident he had no way out of this. He nodded, and put his hands up. He kneeled down. And bowed his head. “Please” he said, very dramatically. I let out a chortle at how extra he was being.

“Forgive me.” He suddenly slid back, and shot me twice in the chest. The screens around the room showed Nico posing with a laser gun, with a banner labeled “Winner” on it circling him. “Aha! Classic fake out!”

“Good job, Nico. Now seriously, date?” For some reason, Nico’s words started to stumble. “I-I’m sorry?” “You know, the year, month, day?”

“Oh.” Nico looked embarrassed before brushing it off to think about it. “Not sure, I’m 12, so it's 1931, right? I’m beat on the month, though.”

I paled. He looked completely serious. I totally blanked on how to proceed. “Haha, yeah, me neither. I think it's coming to the winter solstice, though.”

Nico snapped. “Ah, right, it’s December! Well, it was nice hanging out with you, Percy. But my sister will rip me a new one if I don’t get back to the hotel room!”

He sped off, and I decided to not have an existential crisis in the laser tag arena, and instead ask around.

I started talking to people, and I found it wasn’t easy. They were glued to the TV screen, or the video game, or their food, or whatever. I found a guy who told me it was 1985. Another guy told me it was 1893. They all claimed they hadn’t been in here very long, a few days, a few weeks at most. They didn’t really know and they didn’t care.

I couldn’t believe it. Either these people were time travelers, or this place was literally trapping people in here for centuries.

I found Grover still at that shooting game, killing a bunch of guys in pickup trucks. I tapped him on the shoulder, but he seemed mesmerized. I found Annabeth on that building game. Same result when I tried.

I’m glad I had that depressive episode, otherwise I might be too happy to leave too. Wow, those are some words I never thought I’d say.

And then, I had a thought.

As a reasonable person would, I went over to a bellboy, and ordered a fried spider with lotus petals on top. The man didn’t even blink, and within a minute, I had a spider on a stick, with a small bowl of petals.

Subtly, I tossed the petals behind an arcade cabinet, as I was just realizing there were no trash cans.

Then, I approached Annabeth at her station, and dropped the spider in front of her. Her glazed eyes suddenly gained focus, as she shrieked upon the sight of the spider dish.

She fell back onto the ground, where she tried to regain her breath, so I walked over to her, and leaned down to look at her.

“You up?” Annabeth scowled. “What was that for!?” I sighed. “This is a death trap, Annabeth. I met a guy from the 30’s who looked 11. We need to get out of here.”

I heard those voices coming from Annabeth’s ear again, and suddenly, she seemed a lot less mad. “Whatever. Let’s just go.” I held up a finger. “Wait, we have to get Grover.”

Already having a scheme in mind, I went back to the bellboy, and asked for roasted donkey chops with a sprinkling of lotus. He was vegetarian or something, so this seemed on brand. And within five minutes, Grover was well woken up, and a mix between impressed and furious.

“Seriously Percy? A donkey?” I rubbed the back of my head. “uh….at least I didn’t make you smell a roast goat?” Grover grumbled a ‘thanks’, which I could tell through sarcasm was a little genuine.

“Sorry guys, I was kind of just panicking.” Grover sighed. “No, no, it’s all good. I just hope we’re still in the same year.”

We burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It felt like afternoon, about the same time of day we’d gone into the casino, but something was wrong.

The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with lightning flashing out in the desert. Thankfully, the rain just went around me, but I couldn't say the same for Grover and Annabeth, though.

But at the moment we had other problems to worry about. I ran to the nearest newspaper stand and read the year first.

Thank the gods, it was the same year it had been when we went in. Then, Annabeth checked her phone, and gasped. I took a look at it. June 18th, 11:59 PM. We had been in the Lotus Casino for five days. We had only one day left until the summer solstice. Exactly twenty-four to complete our quest. It was the middle of the night right now. So this day and the next were our last.

It was Annabeth’s idea. She loaded us into the back of a Vegas taxi as if we actually had money, and told the driver, “Los Angeles, please.” The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up.

“That’s three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front.” “Do you accept casino debit cards?” Annabeth asked. He shrugged. “Some of ’em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe ’em through first.”

Annabeth handed him her green LotusCash card. He looked at it skeptically. “Swipe it,” Annabeth invited. He did. His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign. The cigar fell out of the driver’s mouth.

He looked back at us, his eyes wide. “Where to in Los Angeles…uh, Your Highness?” “The Santa Monica Pier.” Annabeth sat up a little straighter. I could tell she liked the “Your Highness” thing. “Get us there fast, and you can keep the change.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have told him that. The cab’s speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert.

In no time flat, we were on the boardwalk of Santa Monica, fairgoers all around us. “What now?” Annabeth asked. The Pacific was turning gold in the setting sun. I thought about how long it had been since I’d stood on the beach at Montauk, on the opposite side of the country, looking out at a different sea.

How could there be a god who could control all that? What did my science teacher used to say? Two-thirds of the earth’s surface was covered in water? How could I be the son of someone that powerful?

“I’ll be back soon. Maybe enjoy the fair stuff, I dunno.” With that, I jumped off the pier, into the water below.I held my breath at first. It’s difficult to intentionally inhale water.

Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I gasped. Sure enough, I could breathe normally. I walked down into the shoals. I shouldn’t have been able to see through the murk, but somehow I could tell where everything was. I could sense the rolling texture of the bottom.

I could make out sand dollar colonies dotting the sandbars. I could even see the currents, warm and cold streams swirling together. I felt something rub against my leg.

I looked down and almost shot out of the water like a ballistic missile. Sliding along beside me was a five-foot-long mako shark. But the thing wasn’t attacking. It was nuzzling me. Heeling like a dog.

Tentatively, I touched its dorsal fin. It bucked a little, as if inviting me to hold tighter. I grabbed the fin with both hands. It took off, pulling me along.

The shark carried me down into the darkness. It deposited me at the edge of the ocean proper, where the sandbank dropped off into a huge chasm. It was like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon at midnight, not being able to see much, but knowing the void was right there.

The surface shimmered maybe a hundred and fifty feet above. I knew I should’ve been crushed by the pressure. Then again, I shouldn’t have been able to breathe. I wondered if there was a limit to how deep I could go, if I could sink straight to the bottom of the Pacific.

Then I saw something glimmering in the darkness below, growing bigger and brighter as it rose toward me. A woman’s voice, like my mother’s, called: “Percy Jackson.” As she got closer, her shape became clearer. She had flowing black hair, a dress made of green silk.

Light flickered around her, and her eyes were so distractingly beautiful I hardly noticed the stallion sized seahorse she was riding. She dismounted. The seahorse and the mako shark whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag.

The underwater lady smiled at me. “You’ve come far, Percy Jackson. Well done.” I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I bowed. “You’re the woman who spoke to me in the Mississippi River.”

“Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirit of the sea. It was not easy to appear so far upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, though they do not serve in his court.”

She held out her hand. Three white pearls flashed in her palm. “I know you journey to Hades’s realm,” she said.

“Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules, who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus. Do you have these talents?”

“Not in the slightest” I said, confidently.

“Ah, but you have something else, Percy. You have gifts you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold a great and terrible future for you, should you survive to manhood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. Therefore take these, and when you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet.”

“What will happen?”

“That,” she said, “depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.” “What about the warning?” Her eyes flickered with green light.

“Go with what your heart tells you, or you will lose it all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you distrust your own judgment. Once you are in his realm, he will never willingly let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, Percy Jackson.”

She summoned her sea horse and rode toward the void. “Wait!” I called. “At the river, you said not to trust the gifts. What gifts?”

“Good-bye, young hero,” she called back, her voice fading into the depths. “You must listen to your heart.” She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone. I wanted to follow her down into the darkness. I wanted to see the court of Poseidon.

But I looked up at the sunset darkening on the surface. My friends were waiting. We had so little time. I kicked upward toward the shore. When I reached the beach, my clothes dried instantly.

I told Grover and Annabeth what had happened, and showed them the pearls. Annabeth grimaced. “No gift comes without a price.” “They were free.” “No.” She shook her head. “‘There is no such thing as a free lunch.’ That’s an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait.” On that happy thought, we turned our backs on the sea.

We hitched a ride from Santa Monica to Los Angeles, and as we stepped off the bus onto the sidewalk, I swear I saw a familiar Phoenix Suns hat, which was definitely in Greek. The doors closed just as the sun fully rose to the center of the sky.

As we walked, I suddenly had a question pop in my head, one I definitely should’ve thought of before. “Where is the entrance again? Chiron said L.A, but there’s a lot of places in L.A.”

Annabeth clicked her tongue. “Well, gods usually own businesses related to their domains, so Hades is likely somewhere death or money related.”

“What about the bank?”

Annabeth looked back, and she clearly hadn’t realized both Grover and I had stopped in front of a large, black cube. One that had several gold designs over it, a sensor door, and in big bold letters, said: “Dis Pater Bank.”

“Yeah, that tracks.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Annabeth constructed an elaborate plan to get to Hades in the shortest amount of time, that told me that either she was making it up as she went, or that she had been to the Underworld a lot. It didn’t help that it was probably the former.

Annabeth turned to us. “Okay. You remember the plan.” “The plan,” Grover gulped. “Yeah. I love the plan.” I said, “What happens if the plan doesn’t work?” “Don’t think negatively.” “Right,” I said. “We’re entering the Underworld, and you want me to think positive?”

I took the pearls out of my pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given me in Santa Monica. They didn’t seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong.

I looked at them both, and felt really grateful. Only a few hours before, I’d used food to traumatize them into leaving a casino paradise, and now we were in the home stretch of our quest.

Just this, and maybe I could bargain with Hades for my mom, or get the master bolt to the salesman for my mom. Either way, I’d get my mom back.

We stepped into the bank, and were immediately overcome with a sense of dread, even though the interior wasn’t too bad, all things considered.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken.

There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Some moved, some made small talk, but quite a few were purely stationary. Like they were dead.

The bank teller coughed, and looked over to us. He beckoned us forward. “You’re the….special clients, correct Mr. Jackson, Mr. Underwood, and Ms. Chase?”

“U-uh, r-right sir!” Grover stuttered out, leading the man to chuckle. He was tall and elegant, with dark skin and slicked back dyed red hair. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

“Charon?” The man nodded. “Yes, that’s me. The boss is waiting for you in the back. I’ll file you through to make sure, however. Get in line. Don’t worry, time is a lie here, your quest will be back on track before you know it.”

We waited for a while. And waited. And waited. If this was what being dead was like, maybe I should be more careful with my fighting style.

Eventually, we got to the front.

“Alright kiddos, pay up.”

Maybe we shouldn’t have given away that Lotus card. Thankfully, he chortled shortly after. “I’m just kidding, my boss told me to make this as quick as possible. So get in there, already.”

He stood up from his seat, and walked up to us. One of the people tried to attack him, but he easily pushed them away. “Alright, follow me.”

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

“Right. Now, no one gets any ideas while I’m gone,” he announced to the waiting room. “And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I’ll make sure you’re here for another thousand years. Understand?” He shut the doors.

He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend. “What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?” Annabeth asked. “Nothing,” Charon said. “For how long?” “Forever, or until I’m feeling generous.” “Oh,” she said.

“That’s fair.”

Charon raised an eyebrow. “Well, don’t get that often.”

I got a sudden dizzy feeling. We weren’t going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes.

The floor of the elevator began swaying. I blinked hard. When I opened my eyes, Charon’s creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone.

Where his eyes should’ve been were empty sockets— like Ares’s eyes, except Charon’s were totally dark, full of night and death and despair. He saw me looking, and said, “Well?” “Nothing,” I managed. I thought he was grinning, but that wasn’t it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying. Grover said, “I think I’m getting seasick.” When I blinked again, the elevator wasn’t an elevator anymore. We were standing on a wooden barge.

Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges

“The River Styx,” Annabeth murmured. “It’s so..”
“Polluted? Yeah. Almost like dead people don’t care much for personal responsibility. It’s giving my boss a migraine.”

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison. Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? And worse, was I going to end up like them eventually?

I found myself muttering a prayer, though I wasn’t quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one I had come to confront. The shoreline of the Underworld came into view.

Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see.

A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal. “Oh, he is hungry,” Charon muttered. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light.

“Bad luck for you, godlings.” The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl’s hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said Now Entering Eternity. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top.

Beyond this were toll booths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon. The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades’s door, was nowhere to be seen.

“The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields,” she said. “No contest. They don’t want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them.” “There’s a court for dead people?”

“Yeah. Three judges. Chiron told me it's like jury duty, a dead person just gets selected one day, where they stay for the next hundred years.”

“What do they decide?” I asked, and Grvoer answered me this time. “If you’re good, Elysium. Mediocre, the fields of Asphodel. If you’re bad, you get sent straight to Hades, where he designs a torture method for you, for eternity.”

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, but I still couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

I hadn’t seen it before because it was half transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at me.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, “He’s a Rottweiler.” I’d always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a wooly mammoth.

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus. She shouted, “See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!”

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were. All three of his heads co*cked sideways. Six nostrils dilated. “Sit!” Annabeth called again. I was sure that any moment she would become the world’s largest Milk Bone dog biscuit.

But instead, Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who’d been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line.

The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires. Annabeth said, “Good boy!” She threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping in the middle, trying to get the new toy.

“Drop it!” Annabeth ordered. Cerberus’s heads stopped fighting and looked at her. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth’s feet.

“Good boy.” She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it. She turned toward us. “Go now. Asphodel line—it’s faster.” I said, “But—” “Now!” She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

Grover and I inched forward warily. Cerberus started to growl. “Stay!” Annabeth ordered the monster. “If you want the ball, stay!” Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

“What about you?” I asked Annabeth as we passed her. “I know what I’m doing, guys.” she muttered. “At least, I’m pretty sure.”

Grover and I walked between the monster’s legs. Please, Annabeth, I prayed. Don’t tell him to sit again. We made it through. Cerberus wasn’t any less scary-looking from the back.

Annabeth said, “Good dog!” She held up the tattered red ball, and probably came to the same conclusion I did.

if she rewarded Cerberus, there’d be nothing left for another trick.

She threw the ball anyway. The monster’s left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest. While the monster was distracted, Annabeth walked briskly under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

“How did you do that?” I asked her, amazed. “Obedience school,” she said breathlessly, and I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. “When I was little, at my dad’s house, we had a Doberman.” “Never mind that,” Grover said, tugging at my shirt.

“Come on!” We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth stopped. She turned to face the dog, which had done a one-eighty to look at us. Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

“Good boy,” Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain. The monster’s heads turned sideways, as if worried about her. “I’ll bring you another ball soon,” Annabeth promised faintly.

“Would you like that?” The monster whimpered. I didn’t need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball. “Good dog. I’ll come visit you soon. I promise.” Annabeth turned to us.

“Let’s go.” Grover and I pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. “Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!” Cerberus started to bark. We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies. Grover murmured, “Well, Percy, what have we learned today?”

“That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?” “No,” Grover told me. “We’ve learned that Annabeth’s plans really, really bite!” I wasn’t sure about that.

I thought maybe Annabeth had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody, even monsters, needed a little attention once in a while. I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass.

I pretended not to see Annabeth wipe a tear from her cheek with a blank look as she listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance, longing for his new friend.

Chapter 16: So The HOA Exists in the Afterlife

Chapter Text

As we were hiding behind the blackened trunk, I suddenly noticed things were going dark. And not like when I was with the salesman. It was more so like the shadows around us were growing.

In fact, they grew so much as to the point where there was nothing but darkness around us, like we were completely encased in amber, but instead of amber, it was pure darkness.

A chill went up my spine, and before we knew it, we were not in the grayscale lands of death, but rather, in a giant meeting room., the size of Los Angeles itself. We were already seated at a table that spanned the entire room.

The tables would have been very nice to look at. The little glimpse I had looked like maple wood, and while I was no carpenter, it looked very expensive.

However, it was hard to see anything through the likely metric tons of paperwork, scattered all across the table. It was also on the floor, in stacks that made me claustrophobic, as they all reached the ceiling.

And the only things that the paperwork didn’t obscure were two people, sat at the table with us.

One was a tall woman, very tall, with long, wavy white hair. Her hair had flower stems tying several braids together, and yet only the thorns seemed to show. Her pomegranate red dress clashed with her black jewelry, and her soft face contrasted with her cold eyes.

The other was a man, even taller than the woman, who even sitting down was taller than the woman, who was standing behind him.

He wore a white dress shirt with a golden tie, extremely pale skin with a gray stubble, and long black hair that was tied with a golden ring, although some hair fell to the sides of his face. He had golden rings on all his fingers, gold eyes, and even a gold tongue, that I could only see when he opened his mouth to speak.

“Perseus. What a name, hm?” He spoke dryly, like he himself was a skeleton. It was hard to what he was feeling, or if he even was feeling anything.

“U-um…” I didn’t have to know his name to know this was Hades. “S-shouldn’t Persephone be up…with…..Demeter?” The woman behind Hades chuckled, who I figured out was Persephone.

“True, and she is surely cross with me for staying with Hades, but these are dire times, you are surely aware.” I gulped. “Haha, yeah…real dire..”

Hades took a deep breath. “Why are you coming here, children?” Annabeth crossed her arms, trying to hide her fear. It wasn’t working.

“We’re here to get the Master Bolt back.” Hades didn’t move for a second, and Persephone sighed. “Why must we constantly be bothered?” She muttered to herself. Hades pressed his palms together, and knit his fingers together. “And what do I have to do with that?”

“Y-you took it, didn’t you?” I managed to get out. Persephone shook her head. “No, we didn’t. Why would we want conflict with Zeus?”

“Because- because….you want a war?” Annabeth tried to reason with the people she was accusing, which I had come to the conclusion wasn’t the best way to go about things.

“Oh?” Hades gestured to all the paperwork around the room. “Does it look like I need more dead people!? In the five minutes you’ve been here, 530 more papers have been submitted here. So tell me again, brats.”

His eyes pierced my soul like a golden bullet, one that honed in on every fear I’ve ever had. “Why on the name of Gaea herself, would I desire MORE WORK!?”

The underworld shook for a moment, the stacks of paperwork just barely managing to stick together. The room shook with a tremor so strong, they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the ceiling.

Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits that the paperwork did not.

“O-okay, fine. We’ll drop the accusations. But that doesn’t change the fact that’s it’s still missing, and-”

Hades suddenly groaned. “What is it, love?” Persephone asked, and Hades just sighed. “Perseus. I believe it would be best if you reached into your right pocket.”

I did as the woman told me, and pulled out a few things. The pen, the rolled up piece of paper, and-

“Is that the Master Bolt?” I looked at the thing in my hand, and shut my mouth. It had turned into something so bright, it illuminated the room, and I had to look away so I wasn’t blinded.

“W-what? How did I…?” I sputtered, and Hades laughed. He laughed, and laughed, and it was so haunting and defeated, I swear I was withering as he did so. “Oh, I see. Poseidon is trying to shift blame onto me, hm? Send his child with the very weapon stolen just to toss onto my mountains of paperwork, and hope I wouldn’t notice?”

I gulped, as Hades looked at me, eye to eye. “Now listen. I don’t care what happens to any of you. Three more souls is nothing to me. But I do not want war. So, now that you have been exposed. I ask you to leave, or if you would rather, I will meld your souls together and throw the amalgamation into Tartarus.”

We all paled, as Persephone chided her husband. “Now now, dear. No need to get angry of this. We know how these demigods operate, let’s just send them to the nearest beach. Perhaps they can reconvene with your brother there.”

Hades sighed, “Well, we only need one to send a message, so how about this. For bothering me and trying to frame me for a war crime, I will allow one of you to be free. Go to Poseidon, and tell him his plot has failed. Do we have a deal?”

I grasped the three pearls I still had in my left pocket. I still had them. I could get four people out of here. So this deal worked out in the end, I just needed my friends to trust me.

I pulled my friends into a corner. “Okay guys.” I whispered, acutely aware of the boring hole Hades was staring into the back of our heads.

“I have these pearls, I got them from Santa Monica. They’ll send us back to the beach, but there’s only three of them.” Grover let out a grin. “Great! No need for a deal, then!”

I paused. Grover looked at me for a second, before horror became present on his face. “Percy….you’re not going to use one of those for…” I laughed nervously. “Look, it’s my only-”

I heard a low chuckle. “Oh, those pearls? They were your escape route, hm?” Persephone said, tone cold as winter. “Believe me, children. I would love to be merciful to you, but you have attempted something despicable.” She grabbed my wrist, and stole the pearls.

“W-wait! Please! We didn’t do anything! Someone must’ve snuck the bolt on us when we weren’t looking!” Persephone rubbed her temple. “Is that so?” Annabeth nodded. “We were stuck in the Lotus Casino for a while, maybe we got it then?”

And then, Hades froze. Persephone paused. “....the Lotus Casino, you say?” Hades murmured. “Um….yes?”

“Get out of here. No, in fact, I don’t want to bother with a border check. I’m sending you out of here, right now.”

“H-hold on! Just a second!” Hades was seconds away from snapping, both figuratively and literally. “What.” I gulped. “I-if I stay here and die, can you send my mom back?”

Persephone’s expression softened as I said that, and nudged Hades, who just sighed and looked back at her. For an uncomfortable amount of time, neither said a word. Nobody dared to, as they had a mental exchange.

“No, I don’t think that will do.” Despair was about to burst out of me in the form of tears, when Persephone clasped her hands.

“We’ll let her go. On one condition.” I paused, breath shaky. “Wait, really?” She smiled. “Yes, Perseus. Just a simple errand. Believe me, it’s not much of a challenge, just a hassle for us.”

Annabeth groaned. “I can’t believe I have to be stuck in the underworld for this.” Hades picked his fingernails. “Well then, I have good news.”

Grover gulped. “Wait, wha-”

And then they were gone. In the blink of an eye, like a shadow entering the dark, they disappeared. I gasped, and frantically ran over to where they once stood.

“W-what did you do to them!?” Hades waved his hand dismissively. “I take your offense very seriously, Mr. Jackson. So, you shall be doing this favor for my wife and I. Alone.”

I scratched my arm with a pit of anxiety growing like a black hole, but I nodded along in a sudden sense of self-preservation.

“Good. Now. Leave me to my work. My love, please tell the boy the details.” Persephone smiled wider as she kissed Hades on the cheek, before pushing past some paperwork and grabbing my arm, and pulling me out of the office.

“Now, Perseus. Let’s talk.”

I gulped. I felt as if she was about to kill me with a snap of her fingers if I stepped out of line.

“So uh, Ms Persephone, what exactly am I supposed to do?” Persephone had dragged me into a massive palace corridor, before shoving me into the nearest closet and locking the door tightly shut.

That meant I had to communicate from the small crevice on the top of the door, which I could barely reach.

“Get dressed. And do it right. After all, you’re about to see paradise for the first and last time.” She spoke coldly and practiced, like an executioner right before retirement.

Too confused and scared to say no, I found what I thought would seem presentable. When I came out, she pinched the bridge of her nose, and pushed me back in, locking it tighter.

From there, she gave me very detailed instructions on what to wear, and after about forty tries later, I seemed presentable enough.

“Well, you don’t look like an utter joke, so I suppose that’s an upgrade.” Was all she had to comment on my outfit.

It was a tight fitting navy blue suit with an orange tie and white undershirt. She also warned me the light was brighter there, so I brought sunglasses.

“Can you tell me what exactly my quest is now?” I asked nervously, and she absently checked the clock. “Oh, nothing important. You are to go kill a few monsters that have been…..infesting Elysium.”

“Uh….what?” Persephone clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Some monsters have managed to fool some of our more gullible judges into believing they were demigods, simply due to them being born to a god and a non-god.”

“Wait….wouldn’t that make them a demigod?” Persephone seemed to get more annoyed by the minute, but retained her thin smile.

“No child, most monsters came from a curse, or Gaea, or what have you. Now please stop questioning, and start doing the one thing you’re good at. Making a mess of things.”

With that, Persephone snapped her fingers, and I was no longer in the palace halls, but rather in a large meadow, with homes scattered around the flowery fields.

Most of the houses were modern, though there were a fair share of rural huts, castles and even a pirate ship softly set into a tulip covered pasture.

I saw pale people walking around the marble stone pathway, sitting on rooftops as they watched me walk into a small bustling group of the houses.

I felt their dead stares, warm but still off putting, and elected to just ignore them.

A tall robed guy with a dark red mullet approached me, and shook my hand. “Hello, young one! Welcome to Elysium, Hades has already informed us of your duty, but don’t feel any rush.”

“Uh, no, it’s no problem. No offense, but I’d kinda like to go home.” The man chuckled. “Oh, none taken! Hopefully, you’ll only see this place one more time after you leave.”

“Uh, okay.” Too awkward to raise any questions, I let the man lead me through the fields, as he picked up a flower and smelled it. “Ah, I truly love it here, we have a lovely community here. Sadly, some monsters have decided to join in. Charybdis and Scylla are their names.”

“Are they….doing anything?” The man shrugged. “They don’t obey the Homeowners Association guidelines. As the president, I cannot let that slide” I thought this was supposed to be paradise.

I passed quite a few more people, and I noticed that they seemed to fade in and out of visibility if I stared at them too long. Ghost thing, I guess. But the guy I was with, he seemed like a solid guy, no matter how much I looked at him.

Eventually, we stopped on the porch of what looked like a giant psychic tent, with a fence set around it that hosted a doghouse, an inflatable pool, and a sand pit. Water was flowing out from the cracks under the door.

“And…uh, what exactly am I supposed to do?” The man’s eyebrow raised, and I felt stupid for asking that question, but he just smiled.

“Oh, whatever is necessary. Although, do try and not make noise. We won’t judge if the violence gets chaotic, but it would be so very considerate of you to keep it down.”

I pulled out my pen, and uncapped it. The sword’s blade hummed in tune with the wind that had begun to pick up, and I hopped the fence. My hand hesitated over the golden door handle, before stiffening the weird feeling in my stomach and opening the door.

I expected a lot of things. A jumpscare from a rampaging monster, an immediate battle, maybe even a tall woman ready to kill me.

What I did not anticipate were two girls roughly my age reading magazines each in a floatie on opposing sides of the room. Because as it would go, the room was submerged in waist-deep water. Even as the door was left ajar, the water seemed to stay still.

One of the girls, who was laying across a dog-themed raft, lazily put down the magazine in the water, which miraculously stayed dry, reminding me of when I was first meeting that nymph who gave me the pearls.

Right. Persephone still had them.

“Hey, Charybdis?” Charybdis, which I guess was referring to the other girl, hummed in acknowledgment.

“They sent a kid from Poseidon. I can smell it.”

The other girl let out a wretchedly loud groan, before pulling a straw out from under her ear, and putting it to her mouth.

And in less than a minute, I felt the water begin pulling me in. Raising my hands in protest, the water began to rise, taking the two girls with it, as they remained bored and stationary.

As I would then find out, the water was a lot deeper than I thought, as even though the water was reaching the top of the ceiling, I was getting submerged myself. Thankfully, it wasn’t like I could drown.

Charybdis then began to drink more and more, until the water was not only at ground level again, but almost completely gone.

Eventually, Charybdis had to stop drinking the water, and rather, expelled it out in a violent jet. It moved like a snake jumping out at prey, and I raised my sword to deflect it.

Like a mirror reflecting light, it shot out like a ray, hitting harmlessly against a wall.

“Okay, Charybdis, let’s just give up.” Charybdis raised an eyebrow at that, but they seemed to exchange a silent conversation. Charybdis shrugged. “Uh, hold on a second.” I interjected, making them both face me with extreme aggravation.

“Do you mind….explaining? You’re Scylla and Charybdis, right? That’s what that one guy said.” Scylla rolled her eyes. “Yeah. That’s us.”

“So….what do you mean give up?” Scylla got off her float, the dog-based raft transforming into a pack of dogs that all began to circle the girl. “Kid, you’re out of your depth here. We just wanted to hang out together outside of that hellhole or in the oceans, and got tired of dying. So, we just decided to not come back, and sneak into Elysium.”

I got to get a good look at the two now without the water, and began to see the monstrous resemblance. Scylla had greasy dark green hair tied up in a ponytail, with long bangs like seaweed. With glossy eyes and bared yellow teeth, she and her dogs both looked like they wanted to maul me to death.

Meanwhile, Charybdis looked much less human, with a big floppy hat covering her eyes and nose, only leaving enough space to see her wide rows of sharp pearly whites.

She wore a lab coat over a tank top that read “Don’t Messina With Me”, though her skin from the neck down was scaly, and her sandals showed fins in the place of feet.

“So, uh, Hades kinda-” Scylla cut me off. “Yeah, whatever. We don’t really care. Kill us, we’ll just come back later.”

I didn’t know enough about the underworld to actually stop them, so I just retracted my sword. Scylla seemed to get madder, for some reason.

“What are you waiting for? Get out of here, you brat. Leave us alone.” I tightened my fist, and glared at the girl. “Sorry, but I can’t. I can’t disobey a god, probably.”

“Why not? Gods can’t kill you. Especially if you’re Poseidon’s kid. They curse you, like they did me.” I felt my mood sour more. I think I preferred a battle over having to talk things out with someone I was sent to kill.

At least then I didn’t have to think about it much. “W-well, he has my mom and-”

Scylla scoffed. “Seriously? We were about to die over a dead mom? Can you believe this, Charybdis?” Charybdis shook her head, and picked up her magazine from the floor to resume reading.

But before she could flip another page, Scylla seemed to get too frustrated to stay. “You know what then? Charybdis, let’s go.” Charybdis perked up, and silently obeyed, standing and shoving past me as the two left the house, and were just leaving the fence, when I felt my voice rise on instinct.

“Wait!”

Scylla turned to glower at me. “What? You want to be the one to kill two girls?” I frantically shook my head. “No, it’s just….maybe I could get Hades to cut you a deal for a house somewhere else?”

Scylla raised an eyebrow. “Hades doesn’t care about the spirits. He’s too busy, or at least that’s the word around the block. It’s mostly Persephone who deals with the spirits’ and their living quarters.”

“Well, maybe I could-”

“I appreciate the sentiment. We both do. But, we’re fine. See you hopefully never, child.” With that, Scylla and her roommate left without another word.

And in the same breath, I was back in Hades’ office. He was no longer buried under his paperwork, rather just absently filling out forms while Persephone stared at me from across the table. That was when I noticed two other people beside me.

“Annabeth? Grover?”

They both looked like they had just blipped from an hour ago right back where they were. They looked at me with a slight hesitation.

“Percy, why are you dressed up like that?”

“I did a thing.”

Hades sighed. “That you did. As promised your mother has been returned to her apartment. As far as she knows, she never left the house.”

Grover gasped. “Wait, what? I thought she was dead!”

Persephone shrugged with a smile, playing with the pearls she had stolen, which she had fashioned into a bead necklace.

“She was never truly dead. My husband had been keeping her hostage for some time, trying to use it as leverage against your father.”

Hades groaned, untying his tie to hang loosely off his shoulders. “But clearly, Brother cares not for his first spouse in decades. In case you were wondering, she survived the impact, I stole her away from the shadows. But since I’m not getting any sort of leverage out of it, you can go ahead and have her.”

I was almost about to blow up at him with how little he seemed to care, but I knew he wouldn’t be merciful. So, with clenched teeth, I stayed silent.

Hades leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his temple. “And in case you wanted to know, those pearls wouldn’t have helped you.”

Annabeth jolted awake, seemingly having tuned out of the conversation at some point. “What do you mean?”

Hades gave a dry, unenthusiastic chuckle. “Because that would have sent you to the nearest water source, I know how those work. Unfortunately, my home is not located in the same place you came in.”

At Annabeth’s raised eyebrow, Persephone interjected. “We are located in what is otherwise known as the center of the earth. And in case you never took a geography class, the closest source of water would boil you all to death.”

We all paled in unison, and Persephone let out a giggle. “Yes, children, perhaps you shouldn’t have put blind faith into these little jewels.”

She crushed them in her palm, and interlaced her free hand with Hades’ left hand. He smiled a little.

Hades sighed, and squeezed his wife’s hand. “Indeed. With that said, never come back.” He snapped, and that feeling of dread overcame us again, shadows climbing up the paperwork, and circling us like ropes.

Before we knew it, we were lying down in a desert, in the middle of the night it looked like. “Really? No water?” I groaned.

Annabeth took a look around, before screaming into her palms. Grover felt the sand through his hands, collapsing face first into the scorching sands.

“We’re in Death Valley.” She muttered, clearly mentally drained. I swore, before I saw something coming towards us. I heard a dune buggy’s horn, before sand flew in a wave towards us.

I flinched, as I heard a familiar cackle. Ares.

Of course.

Chapter 17: I Meet the Worst Side of the Family

Chapter Text

“Hey, kid,” Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see me. “Did you get it for him?” I frowned. “Who?”

And then, Ares’ smile vanished. He hopped off the buggy, which transformed back into one of his horses.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. You couldn’t even do that right? Guess you can forget him, now that the deals are off.”

Both Grover and Annabeth looked at me confused, but all I heard was a low, haunting, scratchy voice. It’s not too late to turn back. I swallowed my anxiety. It was not the time for that.

“Shame. Real shame. Thought this could be a new era. Cuz now, you three are loose ends, that all lead back to me. And as much as I love war, getting all the Olympians on my case about putting the bolt in your pocket is SO not worth it.”

He pulled out a sword. “That being said, sorry cousin. And you other two, kind of. Not really.”

I hesitated, pulling out my pen. “I thought you said you owed me one.” Ares smirked. “And I do! I’m not going to kill you or anything. Just scare you into keeping your mouth shut. Forever.”

And with that, I stood my ground, and Ares charged. My two partners scrambled out of the way, onto the top of a dune.

Ares flew straight ahead like a bull, slamming into a sand hill, then charging again at lightning speed. I dodged, and ducked, frantic to not die.

“Why are you doing this!?” I yelled, just as he grazed my shoulder with his blade, cauterizing the wound instantly. I screamed out in pain, just as he passed me.

“Easy!” He shouted back, swinging again. Which I managed to parry with my own blade. “I told you already, I want artistic war! And if you had just played along, it would have been just that!”

“So you stole the bolt!?” My sword nearly managed to swipe at his knee, but he caught it with his own.

He knocked my blade out of my hands and kicked me in the chest. “Nope!”

I went airborne, twenty, maybe thirty feet. I would’ve broken my back if I hadn’t crashed into the soft sand of a dune. “I’m not stupid, cousin. I played delivery boy, just like you were supposed to.”

I slid down, and into a pit, where if I looked to the heavens, I could see Grover and Annabeth staring down at me, terror on their faces.

And in a single motion, a red light flashed in my eyes, and two Ares were standing above me. I was seeing double. My chest felt like it had just been hit with a battering ram, and I layed there for a second.

I rolled to one side as Ares’s blade slashed the sand. I reached for my sword, only to find my blade in the hand of Ares. He stabbed right above my head.

“Give up now, cousin. I can take you back where you really belong, and I can get this piece de resistance, this magnum opus, to finally become true!”

I knew he was talking about the salesman. He had to be.

But I couldn’t let that happen. The salesman was upfront with me, I knew his ambitions at the end of the day.

And while the deal wasn’t all that bad, just the fact that Ares believed it would lead to war mean it wouldn’t end up good for me, or my mom….

Or anyone.

Suddenly, I stomped the ground with my foot without thinking, before slamming my hands into the sand.

And then, something happened.

The ground boiled, shocking both of us, I saw a chance, and I took it. It felt liquidy, so there was a chance, just a chance, there was water under there, right? I raised my arms, and from there, it all went downhill.

Not that it went bad, I mean the boiling sand dunes behind us exploded. And the hill next to it. Rinse and repeat. Explosions burst out from the boiling sand, as the rainfall leftover from the blast began to fall down on us, and I felt my energy surge again.

Liquefied sand rose to the surface, shooting up like geysers, taking Ares with it. Burning his jacket, rocks began to break apart, and cracks in the earth spread like veins in my skin, and the liquid sand like my blood.

Shot after shot, burst after burst. Quake after quake, it never ended. I tried to find Annabeth and Grover, and thankfully, they were well out of the radius of the ring of explosions.

So long as they were safe, I could continue blasting.

And I did just that.

Ares’s legs began to sink into the sand, all while also blowing up in his face, he clawed and gave out battle cry after battle cry, right before the dune above us fell right over us.

With a mighty crash of the wave, I poked my head out of the blast zone. I raised my hands, and the liquid sand around me became a ring surrounding me, replenishing my energy, and propelling all the sand around me.

The same couldn’t be said for Ares, whose arm was still sticking out, clawing for me. He was sinking under the liquid sand, so his fist made one last gesture.

Right before it started to glow red.

I quickly looked away on instinct, right as a giant burst of red light illuminated the battle field.

I waited until the light subsided to look, where a smoky, extremely angry Ares stood. “You know what? Good fight, man.” He huffed, smirking as he raised a fist.

Scared he might get another outburst if I denied, and feeling extremely overwhelmed myself, I gave him a fist bump.

“Whew! I haven’t had that much clarity off a fight in a while! I’ll be recommending this place to all my followers, in case they wanna fight!” He pulled out his phone, and began typing.

I took a deep breath, before collapsing on the ground. I was completely covered in sand, and felt like my heart was racing faster than one of Ares’ horses could muster.

“He’s trying to kill Zeus, you know.” I muttered, and Ares smiled. “I know that. And sure, I don’t want my pops to die, per say, but it’d be a nice change from this political nightmare we all live in, you feel me? No? Well, you will, when you meet the guy.”

“When I…?” Ares laughed. “Oh my me! Did you seriously forget your quest, that’s hilarious! But yeah, I don’t like owing people, so I’m giving you and your buddies a free ride to Manhattan, you’ll be there in a blink.”

I stumbled as I tried to get up, and he offered me a hand. I took it, and looked for the others. Sure enough, they were shambling over, before lunging at me to hug me. Well, at least Grover did. Annabeth just stayed back a little, clearly suspicious of Ares.

“How did you know about sand boils?” Annabeth queried. I shrugged and smirked. “I didn’t.”

Ares laughed at that, before gesturing to his horse, which had become a dune buggy once again.

“Hop on, and close your eyes, folks.”

We did as he said, and we heard a roar.

“You can open them now.”

Hesitantly, I took a peek, only to gasp. The other two followed, with similar reactions. We were right outside Central Park Tower. The sand from our faces and clothes was gone, and the buggy was transformed into a Mustang.

“You guys, please, go back to camp.” Annabeth nodded, and already started walking off, before Grover grabbed her sleeve. “H-hey! Why? We can stick with you, promise!”

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “He’s worried the gods might strike him down. Which is completely possible, all things considered. We can tell the camp what happens if he doesn’t come back, no big deal.”

On one hand, I kind of wish Annabeth was a bit more defensive, on the other, I’m glad she understood where I was coming from.

They waved me goodbye, Grover clearly dying to come with me, but Annabeth dragged him along, ignoring all protests.

I smiled at them and waved back, and took a deep breath. Here we go, I guess.

Before stepping into the lobby, I put my raincoat on fully, and pulled up the hood, in case anyone recognized me.

I fiddled with the Master Bolt, which I definitely shouldn’t have, considering it was the source of all lightning, but whatever, I was nervous.

I must have looked like a homeless kid, with my tattered clothes and my scraped-up face. I hadn’t slept in at least twenty-four hours.

I went up to the guard at the front desk and said, “Six hundredth floor.” He was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front.

I wasn’t much into fantasy, but the book must’ve been good, because the guard took a while to look up. “No such floor, kiddo.” “I need an audience with Zeus.”

He gave me a vacant smile.

“Sorry?” “You heard me.”

I was about to decide this guy was just a regular mortal, and I’d better run for it before he called the straitjacket patrol, when he said, “No appointment, no audience, kiddo. Lord Zeus doesn’t see anyone unannounced.”

“Oh, I think he’ll make an exception.” I slipped off my raincoat and unzipped the pocket. The guard looked, not getting what it was for a few seconds. Then his face went pale.

“That isn’t-” “Yes, it is,” I promised. “You want me take it out and—” “No! No!” He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a key card, then handed it to me.

“Insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you.” I did as he told me. As soon as the elevator doors closed, I slipped the key into the slot.

The card disappeared and a new button appeared on the console, a red one that said 600. I pressed it and waited, and waited. Elevator music played.

Finally, ding. The doors slid open. I stepped out and almost had a heart attack. I was standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air.

Below me was Manhattan, from the height of an airplane. In front of me, white marble steps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky.

My eyes followed the stairway to its end, where my brain just could not accept what I saw. Look again, my brain said. We’re looking, my eyes insisted. It’s really there. From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow.

Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces—a city of mansions—all with white columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires.

Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rose bushes.

I could make out an open-air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn’t in ruins.

It was new, and clean, and colorful, the way Athens must’ve looked twenty-five hundred years ago. This place can’t be here, I told myself. The tip of a mountain hanging over New York City like a billion-ton asteroid? How could something like that be anchored above the Central Park Tower?

But here it was. And here I was. My trip through Olympus was a daze. I passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at me from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell me thousands of products, all with commercials featuring who I could only assume were the gods.

Nine girls were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered, satyrs and naiads and a bunch of good-looking teenagers who might’ve been minor gods and goddesses. Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war.

In fact, everybody seemed in a festive mood. Several of them turned to watch me pass, and whispered to themselves. I climbed the main road, toward the big palace at the peak.

It was a reverse copy of the palace in the Underworld. There, everything had been black and gold. Here, everything glittered white and silver. I realized Hades must’ve built his palace to resemble this one.

He wasn’t welcomed in Olympus except on the winter solstice, so he’d built his own Olympus underground. Despite my bad experience with him, I felt a little sorry for the guy.

He likely wanted to be so far away, but I felt like I was about to relate to that in a couple minutes.

Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that, the throne room. Room really isn’t the right word. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with moving constellations.

And yet, as if they recognized just how insignificant I was, the room shrinked to the size of an office board room. The gods shrank too, to the size Hades was when he was “consulting” with us.

There were two empty seats, one completely empty, and another in the back of the room, with a bar separating it from the rest of the room. Two jars were on the bar, labeled “Hestia’s Swear Jar” and “Hestia’s Cookie Jar” respectively, both filled to the brim.

“Come inside.” a booming voice spoke, which I immediately recognized as Zeus. I did as he told, and a guy in a delivery uniform pulled up a chair beside him with a smirk. Well, it was less of the luxurious thrones they sat on, and moreso a stool.

I took my seat, and looked around. I was on the left side of the table, in the middle of the group. I looked to one of the far ends of the table, and gulped.

Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue pinstripe suit. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like a storm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes electric blue.

The woman beside him sat glaring at Zeus with crossed arms was probably Hera.

She wore a crisp white suit with a lot of feathery jewelry and buttons. She had long, dark brown hair that slowly became dark blue and green as it went down. Her suit's dress had peaco*ck motifs sprinkled throughout, and her eyes were a similar mix of grayish blue and dark green

Ares was sitting to my right, in his normal attire, but he was holding hands with a very pretty woman, probably Aphrodite, although I also felt too intimidated to admire anyone’s appearance.

She wore a deep V-neck dress that was a deep teal, with white cuffs. She had a large pink-white fluffy coat, like it was made of seafoam or cotton candy, and a shell necklace. She donned a heart shaped pattern along her hot pink sleeves, and long fluffy socks that reached her knees.

To her right was a man I definitely recognized as Eta, or in this case, Hephaestus. He was wearing his welder’s mask that had become synonymous with his online presence, along with a red coat, white T-shirt with his merch on it, and sat in a very fancy wheelchair, rather than the throne everyone else was in.

Moving further right led me to see Dionysus, as casual as ever. He raised an eyebrow at me, as if trying to recognize me. When he got it through his head, he smirked, and raised his soda can.

A woman with hair tied back to resemble a cornucopia, with fruit and flowers forming a crown over her head sat at the end, a sour look on her face as she glared down at me.

She wore a lab coat, over a dark green jumpsuit and brown apron. With all the plant imagery, that was probably Demeter. Yikes, I met the parent after I saw her kidnapped daughter. Awkward.

From there, it went to the other end of the table, so I went the other direction, starting from my left.

Next was a younger guy, whose jet black hair was windswept, almost looking like wings. He wore a baseball cap resembling a golden tortoise shell, with an unzipped brown delivery uniform, showing a white shirt underneath. He wore a mask over his face, but I could still make out the eyes he shared with Luke.

It was kind of underwhelming in all honesty, even when I saw the bracelet of dice, the poker chip earrings, and the snakes wrapped around his waist like a belt. Bet Gabe would love this guy. I felt my mood get a little worse at that thought.

On top of all that, the delivery uniform ended with shorts, leaving room for him to wear his iconic winged sandals. Yup. This was Hermes. No wonder Luke didn’t like him.

Two people sat side by side, having a lot of similar features, the only physical difference being one was a woman, the other a man. The woman wore an open silver winter coat despite it being a New York summer, with braided brown hair with silver streaks.

Her pants were snow leopard print, and she had a necklace with a paw at the end. In terms of earrings, she had arrows through her earlobes, which I personally thought was pretty cool, but considering this was definitely Artemis, I didn’t want to be shot dead.

The guy meanwhile had brown hair too, but it too had streaks, although golden in color. He wore a gold and white polka dot trench coat, a sunhat, and a dark yellow suit underneath.

Then, there was a woman who I immediately recognized as Athena. Maybe it was the eyes I saw in Annabeth, or the owl feather quill tucked under her ear.

Maybe it was the dark purple military uniform that I felt like I’d seen in a thousand WW2 movies, or the bandana stained with clay wrapped over her head, despite her olive brown hair still falling out of the bandana in a braid.

And then finally, there was the one I recognized as my dad. Poseidon. He wore a navy uniform with more medals than I think any school I'd ever gone to owned. His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman’s.

His hair was black and, pun intended, wavy, like mine. But his eyes, sea-green like mine, were surrounded by sun-crinkles that told me he smiled a lot, too.

I didn’t like him. Not one bit. He reminded me of the deadbeat who abandoned my mom for a cop-out reason. Oh, wait.

I approached the fisherman’s throne and knelt at his feet. I may not be a fan, but I’m not stupid. “Father.” I dared not look up. My heart was racing. I could feel the energy emanating from the twelve gods. If I said the wrong thing, I had no doubt they could blast me into dust.

To my left, Zeus spoke. “Should you not address the master of this house first, boy?” I kept my head down, and waited. “Calm down, brother,” Poseidon finally said.

His voice was like getting dunked underwater after a wave crashed against me. Harsh, but smooth. “The boy defers to his father. This is only right.”

“You still claim him then?” Zeus asked, menacingly. “You claim this child whom you sired against our sacred oath?” “We both know how that oath went.” Poseidon shot back. Zeus paused, before tsking.

Hera rubbed her forehead in exasperation. “Listen, child.” She spat, clearly not happy with my general existence. “Give the Master Bolt. Now.”

Hastily, I slid the Master Bolt to the center of the table. I swear I saw a plan being formed in Ares’ head, but it flew into Zeus’s hand before anyone could get any real ideas.

“Good. Now then, child. Tell your story.” Athena commanded. I shivered a little, but tried not to show it. I probably failed miserably. I hated this, I hated this so much.

But, I did as I was told. Sure, I didn’t tell them everything I’ve told you guys up to this point, but I told them the truth, the honest truth. Especially about Ares, who seemed to well up in pride about my tale.

Up until Hepheastus snickered from behind his mask. “Really? You lost to him? And were scared of my trap? That’s impressively terrible.” Ares shot him a look, one that Hepheastus all but returned, as even through the mask, I could sense the heat emanating from the god.

Wow, I grumbled to myself. These guys were really dysfunctional.

“May I go now, sir?” I weakly offered.

I didn’t know if they heard me or just ignored me, as Zeus spoke again. “Ares, did you attempt to betray us? And for who?” Ares scoffed. “I didn’t betray anyone. You heard the kid’s story, right? I was setting up for a war, someone else took the bolt.”

Of course, shifting blame. “And besides, the guy who wanted it was just some greedy guy, wanted to collect it. I didn’t really care to figure out who it was.” He flashed me a grin. We both knew that was a lie. But I didn’t know who the barbecue man was, so I couldn’t call anything. Especially not in front of this group.

Zeus crossed his arms, the Master Bolt dissipating into thin air. “Very well then. I don’t see how this could lead to anything actually worth my time, so we can adjourn this meeting.”

I almost yelled out the obvious, but all the gods were already gone before I could get a word out. All except for Poseidon.

“Hey, wait-” My father cut me off. “That’s enough yelling, kid.”

I glared at him. “What’s with that look? You look like I betrayed you or something.” “Why did you leave Mom?” Poseidon kicked his feet up. “Which one?”

I had enough. “You know what? Whatever. I don’t care. See-ya, pops.” As if he didn’t even realize I was upset, Poseidon smiled obliviously. “Oh, that’s good. See ya, kiddo!”

I stormed out of the meeting room, and when I took a glance back, it was back to the throne room. Poseidon sent me a finger gun, and I scowled.

As I walked down the path, I passed the food stand. And for a second, I saw the man from my dreams at the stand, and he put a finger over his lips. I blinked again, and in a blip, he was back to a regular satyr.

I fastened my pace, getting into the elevator and making my way down to the ground floor. As I left the building, I could only think of one thing.

I had to check on my mom.

I caught a taxi to my mom’s apartment, rang the doorbell, and there she was—my beautiful mother, smelling of peppermint and licorice, the weariness and worry evaporating from her face as soon as she saw me.

“Percy! Oh, thank goodness. Oh, my baby.” She crushed the air right out of me. We stood in the hallway as she cried and ran her hands through my hair. Misty eyed, I returned it tenfold.

She told me she’d just appeared at the apartment that morning, scaring Gabe half out of his wits. She didn’t remember anything since the Minotaur, and couldn’t believe it when she rewatched the news to catch up, and saw me flying out the Arch.

I swallowed back my nervousness and told her my own story. I tried to make it sound less scary than it had been, but that wasn’t easy.

I was just getting to the fight with Ares when Gabe’s voice interrupted from the living room. “Hey, Sally! That meatloaf done yet or what?”

“Just a sec, honey! Percy’s home!”

A few cheers came from the room, and surprisingly, one of them was Gabe’s. I poked my head in, and it was like I never left.

Gabe and his buddies were still playing poker, though it seemed like Gabe was winning now. In fact, there was a lot more money at stake, if I was seeing it right.

“Ay, there you are!” Gabe gave a toothy grin, one that made me shiver. “Hey kid, relax, I’m not gonna beat’cha today.” I let out a sigh. He raised a fist, and I almost flinched again, but stood my ground.

“Not when you netted me all this dough!” Aside from his beer gut, there was clearly a large sum of money in Gabe’s possession.

“I sold your story, and all your stuff, and hey, now we’re rich!” Upon my look of horror, he gave a sleazy grin.

“Chill, I bought your stuff back, just at a discount. You should check it out. And uh, if you find that co*ckroach that was climbing around back there, just give it a warm welcome.”

Sally let out a deep breath, she was probably just worried about what he’d do to me when he saw me again. But honestly, if I could handle all I’d been through the past few days, I could definitely handle some drunkard.

Maybe.

I decided I wouldn’t check on my room, and see what was awaiting me. Instead, I pulled my mom aside.

“Mom, you don’t want me here, do you?”

My mom looked horrified for a second, before I gave her a look. Not one of hurt, but understanding. I knew what this was really about. She would love to keep me around her, but not around….

“You deserve better, Percy.”

I touched my arm. “So do you, mom.”

She smiled, and wiped a tear I didn’t know I had falling down my cheek.

“Maybe so. But that doesn’t change anything. As much as I hate to say it, I don’t really have a choice anymore. Maybe one day, we can finally be free again. But for now, I need to sort this….issue out. And you shouldn’t have to be there to suffer for it.”

I nodded. “I’ll still visit. All the time. I promise.”

Her smile went wistful, and yet even happier. “I know….gods, I know.” We hugged again, before I broke it to look her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, mom. And I’ll see you soon.”

She nodded, and opened the door for me to go.

“I love you too, Percy.”

This wasn’t over. If I could find a way to help her, I would. No matter the cost.

No, that wasn’t right.

It wasn’t a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

Chapter 18: I Make it Home.

Chapter Text

According to camp tradition, when you came back alive from a quest you wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth’s shroud was so beautiful gray silk with embroidered owls, I told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it.

She punched me and told me to shut up. Being the son of Poseidon, I didn’t have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make my shroud.

They’d taken an old bedsheet and painted frowny faces with X’ed-out eyes around the border, and the word SORRY YOU DIED on it. To my suprise, I found out it was initially supposed to write LOSER on it, but Clarisse told them to not be total jerks.

That was really nice of her, for someone like her at least. Either way, it was fun to burn.

As Apollo’s cabin led the sing-along and passed out s’mores, I was surrounded by my old Hermes cabin mates, Annabeth’s friends from Athena, and Grover’s satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand new searcher’s license he’d received from Dionysus.

I moved back into cabin three, but it didn’t feel so lonely anymore. I had my friends to train with during the day. At night, I lay awake and listened to the sea, knowing my father was out there.

And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

On the better side of my family, however, my mom got me a phone of every number and app she thought I needed, with all the money my story had made.

Apparently, the official one was that me and my friends had gotten kidnapped by the mafia, and had made a daring escape to Los Angeles to escape them.

Apparently, witnesses had seen them on the bus, at the Arch, and even gathering in Death Valley, where they heard explosions.

Thankfully, loyal, dedicated Percy Jackson persisted, and made it back home.

I liked that story.

She had also mentioned a boarding school she had found that was willing to accept me, if I wanted. They’d need an answer by September, though.

Similarly, I got a letter from Chiron. Don’t know why, he sleeps less than a mile away. Either way, it was saying I needed to register for another year of camping, or Dionysus might get accused of child labor. And in parenthesis, he put (Again).

I texted and wrote back to both, saying I’d think about it.

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus’s kids, they weren’t going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions.

They’d anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles.

According to Annabeth, who’d seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they’d look like frames of animation across the sky.

The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

We had a bunch of picnic blankets out to watch, and although I didn’t have any cabinmates, Luke and a few other unclaimed kids from the Hermes cabin decided to join me as we watched the festivities.

Grover pulled us aside to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he’d started to look older, almost high-school age.

His goatee had gotten thicker. He’d put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. “I’m off,” he said. “I just came to say, well, you know.”

I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn’t every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I’d only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend.

Annabeth gave him a handshake, but I felt a need to care a little more. I told him to keep his fake feet on, and then where he was going to search first.

“Kind of a secret,” he said, looking embarrassed. “I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan…”

“We get it,” Annabeth said. “You got enough tin cans for the trip?” I asked. “Yeah.” “And you remembered your reed pipes?” “Jeez, Percy,” he grumbled. “You’re like an old mama goat.”

But he didn’t really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway, nothing like the little runty boy I used to defend from bullies at Yancy Academy.

“Well,” he said, “wish me luck.” He gave Annabeth another handshake. He clapped me on the shoulder, and he left down the hill. I hoped I would see him again. Sometime soon.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, stuff like that.

July passed too quickly, and so did August.

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

I got my own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer, I was glad the firelight covered my blushing. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

“The choice was unanimous,”

Luke announced. “This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!”

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered.

I’m not sure I’d ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I’d finally found a friend group, people who cared about me and thought I’d done something right.

Maybe this place wasn’t so bad.

July passed. I spent my days devising new strategies for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares’s hands.

I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, I’d walk past the Big House, glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince myself that it's prophecy had come to completion.

‘You shall go west, to face the god who has turned’. Obviously, Ares.

‘You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.’ Obvious again. Bolt.

‘You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend’ Let’s get back to that one.

‘And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.’ I guess, yeah. Gabe still had her under his thumb. So yeah, I failed that part. But that still left the traitor.

I decided to sleep on it.

And lo and behold, that’s where the answers were.

Heyyyy, friend.

We were now in a candy store. Like the one my mom owned. I could almost make out a few people working behind him, but their faces were obscured. Thalia was at one of the tables, face down.

The man had eyes now too, shimmering white, with dancing golden pupils so small, they looked like little beads. He wore a blue and white striped vest and matching pants, with suspenders and a blue bow tie.

Now I know what you’re thinking. You were just thinking about it a second ago, after all. Who’s the one who betrays you? Well, I’ll be completely honest with you. It’s totally me.

I was about to gasp, before he cut me off.

But, you simply cannot blame me. You did it too, remember.

“I-I didn’t mean to..”

Hey. Hey, buddy. You know I'm not mad. I’m not that kinda guy. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. But you bite my back, I bite yours.

That was a weird analogy.

But an accurate one, friend. Anyway, I forgave you for not getting the bolt to me, so it’s only right that you forgive me for letting more people in on that deal of a lifetime, right?

That made sense, but I almost wanted to ask who those people were.

Sorry, it’s confidential. If it’s any comfort, none of them knew either.

I didn’t know how that was supposed to make me feel better.

Wait, then how did Ares know?

He’s a smart cookie. Besides, we had very different deals. That guy was so bloodthirsty, and honestly, I couldn’t relate. He’s a little intense you know, you should be wary of those kids of his. They’re not to be trusted.

I found myself nodding along again, before snapping out of it. I couldn’t wrap my head around any word he spoke.

“But didn’t you want to kill Zeus? A lot?”

What do you mean? I never said that. You said that, remember? You were so angry after all that terrible stuff he put you through, you made that declaration, and like the good pal I am, I became your permanent hype man, remember?

“W-wait, no, that was-”

You. It was you, Perseus.

My ADHD brain couldn’t make sense of everything he was saying, so I ended up just buckling, and nodding my head.

And hey, if you don’t want to do that, that’s fine! We can just eat jelly beans together!

He snapped, and the background around us disappeared into the void, Thalia falling into an endless abyss, like the only floor was around the man and I.

Love the monologue skills, friendo. Don’t think I ever acknowledged that.

He snapped again, and one absolutely ridiculous sized jar filled to the brim with jelly beans, and a small bag of jelly beans appeared.

Those were all orange-ish yellow. The bagged ones were bright blue. I recognized it as my favorite flavor, Berry Blue. I didn’t recognize the other. Maybe orange?

Nope, it’s Mustard!

My face scrunched up involuntarily.

So how about this. Quantity of quality. Either you can take the Mustard jar, so dull and boring, or, you can take this smaller portion of Berry Blue jelly beans. Quite a few of your pals in that camp also like these, you know. So, which do you choose?

He sure made it seem like a bigger deal than it was. It was just jelly beans, right?

Yeah, sure pal. Just pick one.

Obviously, I selected my favorite flavor, and the man seemed pleased.

I hope we can work towards both our goals. After all, the gods may have given you your mother back, but they took her too. Not only that, but she’s still stuck with that horrible man, isn’t she?

I chewed one of the jelly beans and nodded.

Yes, good. And don’t worry about my appetite. I appreciate the divine flavors.

Suddenly, a tray of twelve white jelly beans appeared before him. He took six of them in a handful and ate them whole.

Not even chewing them. He made a show of crushing one of them in his palm before eating it. Then, he discarded the leftover beans into the void below.

Yup. I totally love these….strange beans, we have so much in common!

“What’s….your name?”

Hohoho, does it matter?

“Yes.”

He shrugged, and adjusted his name tag on his pinstriped uniform. I took a closer look, but groaned. It was cursive.

Aw, shucks. I forgot your dyslexic.

Eventually, I just gave up and nodded along.

Good. Now, I have a lot of work to do. I have big plans, Perce. And that’s a 100% Kronos brand guarantee!

I paled, as he smirked, winked, bowed, and I woke up.

I panted as I sat up in my bed, looking around like there was a chance he was still there. Instead, all I saw was a jar of blue jelly beans, with a sticky note.

Remember. You’re never alone.

Never.

-K

I got out of bed, and left the cabin. I wasn’t going to think about this right now.I needed to go to someone I could really trust.

The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection.

Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp’s shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport.

And yet, Luke was still fighting in the arena, where I approached him. His gym bag was plopped at the edge of the stage. He was working solo, whaling on battle dummies with a sword I’d never seen before.

It must’ve been a regular steel blade, because he was slashing the dummies’ heads right off, stabbing through their straw-stuffed guts.

His orange counselor’s shirt was dripping with sweat. His expression was so intense, his life might’ve really been in danger.

I watched, fascinated, as he disemboweled the whole row of dummies, hacking off limbs and basically reducing them to a pile of straw and armor.

They were only dummies, but I still couldn’t help being awed by Luke’s skill. The guy was an incredible fighter. It made me wonder, again, how he possibly could have failed at his quest.

“Where’d you get that sword?” I asked, and Luke turned to see me, mid swinging. “Uh, honestly, no clue. It was sticking out of the ground, near the forest. Probably some campers being reckless, not uncommon.”

He looked me up and down, and his face briefly became a little darker. "Hey, what happened to those shoes I gave you?" For a second there, I totally blanked. I remembered something about that casino we were in, but the whole thing was a little fuzzy. Oh, right!

"I can't fly, because of Zeus, so I gave them to Grover. I think he still has them."

"Oh, good, good." Luke looked crestfallen for a second, before perking up again.

“Can you come up with a name for this thing? I got nothing.” I was about to say something probably stupid, he laughed. “Sorry, I’m just trying to distract myself.”

I titled my head in confusion, and Luke chuckled a little lower, and sat down. I followed him. “Annabeth’s going home.” My eyebrows shot up, and his chuckle died down sadly.

“Yeah. I was surprised too. Apparently you inspired her, or something. She texted her dad, who responded I think in the same millisecond.”

I laughed at that, but he stared at the ground, unwavering. He looked at my shoes, for a second, and muttered something. I didn’t hear him, but nothing happened. So, I asked: “What did you say?”

“You’re leaving too, aren’t you?” He whispered, and I hesitated for a moment.

As much as I loved it here, I think I’d like to worry about my grades and making the swim team rather than hulking monsters and quests.

“Yeah. I need to finish school, you get it, right?” Luke nodded. “Of course, man. Nobody’s gonna hold it against you for wanting a life outside the gods.”

It sounded like he wanted to say more, but he was quiet after that. I stood up, and reached out a hand for him to take.

He smirked, as when he took my hand he pulled back down to his level. We both laughed, I really thought I might be as strong as him, but I guess I still had a ways to go.

“I’ll see you next summer, Percy.”

With that, he got up and picked me up, setting me back down on my feet.

“See you, Luke.”

I had made my decision. I texted my mom back, asking for the address of the boarding school, and if she could register me for a year at the boarding school.

I wrote on the back of Chiron’s letter ‘I’m heading out’ and delivered it personally to the centaur, who was back in his wheelchair. I was wondering if I should hug him or something, but he just offered a hand, which I shook.

Dionysus winked at me as he shot me finger guns, both waving me goodbye as I headed up the hill.

I was just in time to see Annabeth leaving with her family, mid very awkward hug with her father. When she spotted me, she said something like ‘just one more minute’, and walked over to me.

“See you, Seaweed Brain.”

“C’mon, I deserve to get my name said at this point,” I joked.

Annabeth let out an airy laugh, before turning her back to me. “No,” she said finally with a smirk. “You’ll have to work a little harder for that.”

With that, she left with her family, and I took one last look over the campgrounds.

I’d always be happy to leave this place. As nice as it was, I never wanted to stay here forever. But now, at least, I’d always be happy coming back too.

And believe me, I’d be back.

That’s a promise.