Children of the Gods - PaigeMcPherson2023 - Percy Jackson and the Olympians (2024)

Chapter 1: A/N

Chapter Text

So a couple of notes for this story before we begin

I have upped the year they start school. So they would go to Hogwarts from 12-19 ages.

At the point in which this story begins, it is at the beginning of August, right after the defeat of Gaia for the Heroes of Olympians/ PJO's, and the Summer Holiday for the wizards/ witches.

In my story, all Black family members have to sire a child with a god. I have written in 2 Original Characters, a daughter of Sirius's, and Andromeda's son. I originally planned for just one, but then the ships didn't fit, so yeah. I also made Nymphadora Regulus's son, and she's two years older than her cousins

"Author, why don't you just make an original character be Reggie's son"

Because that would be logical, so obviously I didn't think of that.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: Prologue

Chapter Text

The explosion in the sky was rocketed such an impact, both the camps had to shield their eyes from the blinding colours.

When the glow faded, Artemis lowered her arm to her mouth, coughing from the smoke. Her boyfriend was having the same reaction, and from the sounds of it, so was everyone else.

When the dark haired girl recovered, she stood up again, blinking wildling around while her irises struggled to recover. The blotches receded, and Artemis gasped, taking a step back and smacking into someone, but she didn't turn to see who.

They were no longer in Camp Half-Blood. Artemis was back in a place she hadn't been in - what was it, eight months? The Great Hall at her school was empty except for some of Artemis's fellow demigods, and for some reason, there were five tables.

Artemis's blonde cousin in particular was having a similar reaction, but before either could comment, there was another blinding bang, and the hall was filled by the usual staff and students, like it was any other regular day.

"What's going on?" a girl with long red hair asked. She turned and spotted Artemis, and frowned. "Ajax? What happened - where have you been?"

The rest of the school turned, surprised to hear the reappearance of Ajax Tonks-Black, and Draco Malfoy-Black. The two had completely abandoned their fifth year of school with no word or anything.

On Draco's left, a girl with tumbling blonde hair's jaw dropped as she realized where they were. "So this is your school," she breathed.

Before anyone could comment, there was a flash of light that made everyone cover their eyes again, and a piece of paper shimmered in the air in front of the girl. A stack of books sat at her feet. She opened it, clearing her throat.

"To the Heroes of Olympus and the Staff and Students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

I mean you all no harm. You have all been brought here to show the future so you all can work together to fight those who have been behind all of the Madness all along. We have discovered that Lord Voldemort is teaming up with those who wish to oppose the gods, and you have been brought here to defeat them.

You are here to read the past and future to learn from it. We wish you luck and skill,

The Fates"

Naturally, there was some panicking, until a chocolate-brown haired girl stood on the fifth house table and yelled for silence. "That is enough!" she ordered. "Sit down!"

Everybody took a seat at their rightful place, the demigods at the fifth table. Piper McLean straightened, looking satisfied with the effectiveness of her charm speaking. "Now, who is going to read the first book?"

There was silence, and then a bushy haired girl at Gryffindor Table stood up. "I'll read first. But shouldn't we do introductions, who are you people?" Hermione Granger raised an eyebrow.

Artemis flashed a grin at her. "I'll deal with that. The Chinese-Canadian dude is Frank Zhang, and this is his girlfriend Hazel Levesque, and his sister Clarisse La Rue. That over there is her brother Nico Di Angelo. You all know Draco, and the girl who just yelled at everyone is his girlfriend Piper McLean. You know Ajax, and this is his girlfriend Reyna. And you all know Nymphadora, but if you call her Nymphadora she will hex you into oblivion. My name's Artemis Black, I'm Sirius Black's daughter, this is my boyfriend Jason Grace, and that's his older sister Thalia. The girl who read the letter is Annabeth Chase, and that's her boyfriend Percy Jackson. And this is Grover Underwood and Coach Gleeson Hedge, and that over there is -"

Artemis stopped talking, and her smile faded. "Nevermind. Just read," she sank down into her seat and leaned against Jason, who looked equally upset.

Hermione sensed her pain, and picked up the first book. "Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief Chapter 1 - I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher."

Chapter 3: PJO 1 - I accidentally vaporized my pre-algebra teacher

Chapter Text

"How do you accidentally do that?" Ron Weasley asked, while his sister Ginny tried to hold back a laugh. Hermione shot them herI'm-reading-shut-upglare, to which they obeyed.

My name is Percy Jackson.

I'm twelve years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubl ed kids in upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

Grover nodded in confirmation, and Percy looked offended.

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 mental-case 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. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard 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, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

"Go Chiron!" Ajax cheered.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

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.

Fred and George exchanged a grin. They were halfway out of their seats, ready to make their way over to Percy and plot to destroy the world, but Ginny smacked them both. "Can you at least let Hermione finish the first page before killing us all?" she rolled her eyes.

This trip, I was determined to be good.

"How long did that last?" Draco teased, and Percy went pink. "Shut up sun kid!"

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.

Annabeth and Thalia recoiled. "Why'd you put up with that Grover?" Thalia asked.

"Mission," Grover said simply as if it explained everything. It did.

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.

"Easy target," Ajax scoffed.

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.

"Yes! Beat her!" Coach Gleeson Hedge bellowed, at the same time as Alastor Mad-Eye Moody yelled "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"Not two of them," Nymphadora groaned.

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."

"That's right, blame the halfblood. Always blame the halfblood," Nymphadora scoffed.

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.

"Intriguing," Luna mused.

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.

Nico laughed. "You called her Mrs. Dodds?" he smirked, and Annabeth chuckled. Jason, Piper, Frank and Hazel looked confused.

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 devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get afterschool 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, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

"Ohh," Hazel giggled. "Is she a . . . "

"Kindly One," Grover nodded.

"She doesn't seem very kind," Dennis Creevey commented.

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."

"Here comes the part where you have to answer questions," Nico shook his head.

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?"

"Ugh we're going to have to watch the whole Kronos thing again," Percy groaned.

"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—"

Lavender gagged, and a whole bunch of the others did as well.

"Eeew!" one of the girls behind me said.

"—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.'"

"Really?" Draco leaned forward. "She doesn't think this is important information? Really?" he said sarcastically.

"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 packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

"There's a reason for that," Grover nodded.

I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I learnt. Unreasonably quickly," Percy nodded.

"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?"

"Excuse me? You tell that and then expect them to go eat lunch peacefully? You're kidding right?" Seamus Finnegan scoffed.

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.

"Really?" Ajax tutted. "I wonder why."

"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 vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

"Well he better be bloody happy after what Percy's done. Is taking a dip and becoming temporarily almost immortal good enough? Diving into Tartarus?" Draco shook his head.

Hermione glanced up from the book. "What did you say?"

"Nevermind, just continue Hermione," Artemis shook her head.

I wanted to get angry, this guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed 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 worshipped.

"That sounds fun! Why didn't he do that with us?" Piper grumbled.

"Pipes, you were in camp for like two days," Artemis reminded her.

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.

Hermione stopped to glance over at us. "Don't you have ADHD and dyslexia, Art?" she asked, and I nodded.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner took one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

"He probably had," Jason shrugged.

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, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

"Stupid gods throwing a hissy fit," Artemis rolled her eyes.

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 a thing.

"KILL HER! BEAT NANCY BOBOFIT -"

" - CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"HER RED HAIRED BEHIND STRAIGHT BACK TO -"

"COACH HEDGE! SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET!" Piper ordered, and Hedge obeyed, but not of his own free will.

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."

"Really? That's news to me," Draco told him sarcastically.

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?"

"That's Grover for you," Thalia sighed.

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 bad 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, remind 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.

"I love Sally," Artemis nodded. "Favourite person."

"Wow, rude," Jason grumbled.

"You have never had the pleasure of meeting Sally Jackson. I assure you she will become your favourite immediately," Thalia assured her brother.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of th e handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

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.

"Your imagination never ceases to amaze me," Annabeth told her boyfriend, who grinned.

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 materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

"Water grabbed her, exploding toilets, parents met at a beach, father lost at sea, stronger when dunked in water, none of that told you who your dad was?" Ajax frowned, and Percy didn't say anything.

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumbled. "A month erasing workbooks."

That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Dude, never give punishment ideas! Misbehaving 101," George - or was it Fred - scolded.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

"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. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

"She's a Kindly One!" Grover folded his arms in defense.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled. " I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But—"

" You—will—stay—here."

Grover looked at me desperately. " It's okay, man," I told him. "Thanks for trying."

" Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirked. I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare.

"Scary," Ajax teased.

Then I turned to face Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

The demigods scoffed.

I wasn't so sure

I went after Mrs. Dodds. Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

"Chiron help him, he's really pathetic now!" Ajax said, and Percy looked offended.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall. Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently that wasn't the plan. I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

"How ironic," Reyna drawled.

Except for us, the gallery was empty. Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it . . .

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am."

"There was no safe way out of that scenario," Frank shook his head.

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil. She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me.

Nico scoffed.

I said, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

"Highly doubt that," Ginny shook her head. "And clearly they are fools."

I didn't know what she was talking about.

All I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room.

All of the demigods were silent, and then they burst out laughing. "You were selling candy illegally?" Piper laughed.

Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade.

"They didn't even check?" Annabeth scoffed.

Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"How is that worse?" Padma Patil asked.

"Dyslexic," Nymphadora explained between giggles.

Ajax looked thrilled. "Gods, Leo would've loved to hear about all this."

And just like that, the good mood faded.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't . . ."

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

The witches and wizards were stunned silent with shock. It took Hermione a few seconds to recover before continuing.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me. With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

"Riptide!"

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes. My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

She snarled, "Die, honey!" And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword. The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water.

"Came naturally?" Dean Thomas questioned.

Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone. There was a ballpoint pen in my hand. Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something. Had I imagined the whole thing?

"Magic Mushrooms?" Ernie Macmillan asked.

"Drugs, dude," Justin Finch-Fletchley explained.

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, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I said, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away.

I asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?" 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 saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

I went over to him. He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it. " Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

"They tried to convince you that you were insane! I'm going to kill Chiron!" Annabeth growled

"As fun as that would be," Hermione turned the page and blinked. "Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death- what sort of Chapter names are these!?"

Chapter 4: PJO 1 - Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death

Chapter Text

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

"Chiron," Annabeth growled.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed. Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was lying.

"Grover cannot lie to save his life," Nico shook his head.

Ajax, Nymphadora, Artemis, Draco, Clarisse, Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and Coach Hedge exchanged a look. "Well, actually," Ajax began. "There was one time -"

"Don't you dare!" Grover cringed.

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 Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

"Scary."

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.

"Your dads are dramatic," Artemis told Percy, Jason and Thalia.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. 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 a letter 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.

"What did happen to Smelly?" Draco asked curiously.

"Oh, you know that package that we sent to Olympus. It got returned to sender, and he had the misfortune of opening it," Percy sighed. "What a pity. For the package - that it had to be in his presence."

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'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well. As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

"Good."

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it.

"Funny, you met both Chiron and Charon in this book," Ajax joked.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt. I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes.I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson.

I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book. I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

"First and last time I gave a sh*t about a teacher," Percy shook his head.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunne r asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . 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 an adult. I inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner 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."

"Too late."

" Sir, he saw her. . . ."

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that."

"almost, but Grover can only lie to save his life once," Percy laughed, and Grover glared.

"We don't talk about that!"

" Sir, I . . . I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

Thalia, Grover, and Annabeth were silent.

" You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud. Mr. Brunner went silent.

"Wow, he is stupid."

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow. I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

"Maybe it was an archer's bow."

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on. A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Stupid Luke."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . ."

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Don't remind me."

Coach Hedge and Grover groaned. "All the tests were the worst part," Grover grumbled.

"Not the bullying?" Frank frowned.

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office. I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever. Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and 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 and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

"You were though," Jason pointed out.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside. For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best."

"Oh my gods," Annabeth groaned, burying her head in her hands.

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir."

" I mean . . ." Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

"You have no tact Chiron!" Annabeth shouted.

My eyes stung. Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"OH MY GODS JUST STOP!"

" Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for reminding me."

" Percy—"

But I was already gone.

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.

Piper swallowed. "Wow, that is the biggest pile of bullsh*t. Those vacations were boring anyway."

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city. What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool." They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

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 Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

"Wow, I wonder why."

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 Greyhound. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

"Giving him a heart attack," Hazel shook her head.

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam. Grover 's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Clearly not enough to be worried."

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice deadline?"

He winced. "Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . ."

" Grover—"

" And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . ."

" Grover, you're a really, really bad liar."

"How was the wedding Groves?" Draco teased, and Grover flushed pink.

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.

Coach Hedge snorted.

"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.

"Oh my gods you stupid," Annabeth didn't finish, leaning against Piper in pain.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "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.

"Awww," Luna cooed.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. 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 bloodred 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.

"Reminds me of S.P.E.W., ay Hermione," Harry teased, and Hermione shot him a fierce glare.

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.

"You saw the Fates!" Clarisse gasped.

"Aren't those the people in the note?" Blaise Zabini questioned.

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?"

"Persassy."

"Shut up Ajax."

" Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all."

"Kinda funny."

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."

"You survived Tartarus, you can survive that."

" 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.

"Probably Kronos," Nymphadora mumbled, earning a kick in the shins from Annabeth.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life. The passengers cheered.

"Leo could have fixed it in two seconds," Artemis said sadly. Hazel and Frank exchanged a look.

" Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "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?"

"A lot."

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 . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. 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 cord."

"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 last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."

Piper chuckled. "Well, um, Leo and I got well past sixth grade," she smirked, but her smile faded a bit at the mention of Leo.

"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.

Grover and Percy were silent. Annabeth groaned. "Let me guess -"

"Don't bother," Grover shook his head. "He ditched me at first opportunity."

"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 picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

"That's Annabeth's choice," Piper piped in.

"Anyway, time for Chapter 3," Hermione announced. She blinked, glanced between Percy, Grover, and the book, then sighed again. "Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants.Please tell me that's a joke?"

Chapter 5: PJO 1 - Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Pants

Chapter Text

Confession time: I ditched Grover as soon as we got to the bus terminal. I know, I know. It was rude.

Grover and Percy were silent.

But Grover was freaking me out, looking at me like I was a dead man, muttering "Why does this always happen?" and "Why does it always have to he sixth grade?"

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 me promise to wait for him, then 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 cancer, 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.

"Sally is the best," Thalia nodded.

I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile.

My mum 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.

"And I wonder who my dad is," Nymphadora mocked.

"Shut up," Percy shook his head.

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 the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nicknamed him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts. 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 is 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 ESPN. 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?"

"Wow, not even a hello," Piper wrinkled her nose.

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.

"I love your descriptions," Hazel laughed.

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. 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.

"He totally deserved that do-it-yourself statue kit," Percy grinned. Jason, Piper, Hazel, Thalia, Clarisse, Reyna and Frank looked confused.

"I don't have any cash," I told him.

He raised a greasy eyebrow. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he said. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

"Prick."

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he said. "The kid just got here."

"Am I right? " Gabe repeated. Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony.

"Fine," I said. I dug a wad of dollars out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain boy!" he shouted after me. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

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 old car magazines, 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.

"Ew," Pansy wrinkled her nose.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

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, growing long, horrible talons.

"Good. Feel guilty," Grover folded his arms.

"Well it worked out well in the end," Percy coughed.

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!"

"He's so tiny, I can't believethatis Percy," Piper shook her head.

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 blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little boy doing all right?

"Aww."

I told her she was smothering me, and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.

"It's not a secret, everyone loves Sally," Annabeth nodded.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally—how about some bean dip, huh?" I gritted my teeth.

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

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 and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

"Uhh, she was horrible, what are you on," Ginny rolled her eyes.

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 Mrs. Dodds 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?"

Percy grinned. "I love 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.

"Because he keeps taking it all for stupid poker," Susan Bones pointed out.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then 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?"

"Of course."

"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 seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

"CLOTHES BUDGET!"

"Yes, honey," my mother said.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week.

"YES! BEAT HIS -"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"-MAKE HIM SING -"

"SHUT IT!" Draco yelled at Moody and Hedge.

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad. Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

"Yeah, go away stinky Smelly Gabe," Fred told him.

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement. "Yeah, whatever," he decided. He went back to his game.

"Thank you, Percy," my mom said. "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.

Ron decided not to comment on how delicious it sounded.

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 griping and groaning about losing her cooking—and more important, his '78 Camaro—for the whole weekend.

"I hate him," Blaise Zabini decided.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," he warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch."

"Like he'd be driving!"

Like I'd be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me.

"Asshole."

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe.

The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out. 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.

"Yeah, what's that about?" Reyna asked curiously.

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. This—along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano—was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me.

"Aww, I love that," Hermione stopped to comment, before continuing.

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, but I never got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes."

"Powerful. Understatement," Jason commented.

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Percy. He would be so proud."

I wondered how she could say that. What was so great about me? A dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years.

"And like a week later Percy kills the Minotaur, cuts off Medusa's head, becomes a fugitive, blows up a bus -" Draco covered Ajax's mouth to stop him from spoiling.

"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. A warm glow. A smile. I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. 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, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Hate on Smelly."

"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."

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said—that it was best for me to leave Yancy. "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."

Percy scoffed. "Fat chance."

"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 me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

Artemis snorted. "That's Percy Jackson for you - killing monsters since he was two,"

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 Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. 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.

"Oh my gods," Annabeth slammed her head on the table.

"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?"

"That sounds sketchy."

"Not a school," she said softly. "A summer camp."

My head was spinning. Why would my 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 two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, 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 eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

"Family drama," Clarisse rolled her eyes.

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. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's wide eyes, and I screamed, No!

Percy threw his hands in the air. "That's my freaking life. Stopping the gods from murdering each other, super fun," he sighed.

I woke with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle 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.

"What does that mean?" Seamus asked.

"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!" he yelled. "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 ...

"What is it?" Colin Creevey asked.

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 Mrs. Dodds, 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 cloven hooves.

"What!" Ron coughed.

Hermione looked stunned. "My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting.That sounds . . . interesting."

Chapter 6: PJO 1 - My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting

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.

Coach Hedge opened his mouth. "Don't you dare," Piper warned him.

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."

"Okay. That's creepy."

"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 a donkey—"

Coach Hedge stood up. "What did you say!?"

"He didn't know any better," Grover said quickly.

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 from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter."

"It does."

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!"

"I will," Coach Hedge threatened.

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like . . . Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds!"

"Of course."

"Then why—"

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are."

"Who I—wait a minute, what do you mean?"

"Oh my gods."

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

"What was chasing you?" Reyna asked curiously.

"Minotaur," Percy mumbled.

"I'm sorry, what?!"

"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?"

"She's doing all she can."

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. I could never dream up something this weird.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"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."

"Yes. Yes because some old ladies cut some yarn, Jackson," Clarisse groaned.

"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."

"Oh my gods."

"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.

"What is that?"

"What was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there," my mother said, ignoring my question. "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 Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. My limbs went numb from delayed shock. She really hadn't been human. She'd meant to kill me.

"Really?" Clarisse blinked. "That's news."

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner . . . and the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. 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!

Grover grinned. "Aww, thanks."

Then he groaned "Food," 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 skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns.

I swallowed hard. "Who is—"

"Percy," my mother said, deadly serious. "Get out of the car."

"Listen to her."

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.

Percy turned to Thalia, who glared at him. "Not a word Seaweed Brain," she glared.

Percy feigned offense. "Really Pinecone? That's Annabeth's nickname for me, not yours," he folded his arms.

"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."

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises.

As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands—huge meaty hands—were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head . . . was his head. And the points that looked like horns . . .

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Minotaur."

"He doesn't want us," my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

"Why not?" Dennis Creevey.

"She's mortal," Ajax explained.

"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, 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 like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine—bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs under vein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except underwear —I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms—which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

"You are insane," Annabeth mumbled

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns—enormous black-and-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—"

"Pasiphae'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."

"Why?" a Ravenclaw asked.

Artemis leaned forward. "Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort," she said, and the witches and wizards tensed. "See? Same thing with you."

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.

Oops.

Draco snorted.

"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 witches and wizards looked nervous at the danger - ironically enough.

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 fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection.

Percy looked away, and Annabeth pulled him in for a hug.

A blinding flash, and she was simply . . . gone.

"No!"

Anger replaced my fear. Newfound strength burned in my limbs—the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons.

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 stripped off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea—a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump 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.

"Oh no, puny Percy will never survive," Jason teased.

Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. 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 thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then—snap!

Hazel, Frank, Jason, Piper and Reyna looked stunned. "You snapped off his horn!" Frank

The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.

The monster charged. Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate—not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and scared and trembling with grief. I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and cry, but there was Grover, needing my help, 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 a familiar-looking bearded man and a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, " He's the one. He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth," the man said. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside."

"Annabeth?" Hermione glanced up. "That's you."

Annabeth nodded. She opened her mouth, but was interrupted by a giggle. "He called you a princess."

Everyone turned to look at the fireplace. A boy withcurly black hair, dark brown eyes, pointy ears, and a cheerful, elf-like face stepped out, grinning sheepishly. "Hi."

Chapter 7: PJO 1 - I play pinochle with a horse

Chapter Text

The Demigods had to take numbers. Nico commandeered a dispenser from the table and carried it around, yelling, "The line starts to the left! Orderly queue, guys!"

"Is this really necessary?" Leo Valdez asked.

"Yes," said Nymphadora, who had drawn the first number. She punched Leo in the arm.

"Ow," said Leo.

"You're a jerk, and we all hate you," Nymphadora said. Then she hugged him and kissed his cheek. "If you ever try to kill yourself like that again, we'll line up to kill you."

"Okay, okay!"

Nymphadora had to move on, because the line was pretty long. Percy was next, and they hugged, Percy not being able to punch him. "Don't ever do that again," he ordered.

Hazel was next, and she threw herself around him. "I'm so glad it worked," her voice was muffled. Frank had the same reaction.

Annabeth, however, punched him in the stomach, glaring at him. "How long have you been here?"

Leo looked awkward. "Just since the second chapter. I appeared in the fireplace when the old ladies were knitting the socks of death. Decided to stick around in here."

Percy looked annoyed. "Nico, can I have another ticket?" he asked. Nico handed him one.

"I'm sorry, okay - OW!" Clarisse punched Leo in the shoulder and sat down grinning. She didn't even know him, just seemed it would be fun to punch someone.

When everyone was finished abusing Leo, they sat down calmly and waited for Hermione to continue. She blinked a couple of times. "Who is this?"

Leo Valdez grinned at her. "I'm Leo Valdez. Before we were sent here, I was busy sacrificing myself to save the world, which is why I arrived here later. Now can we get more blackmail material or what?"

Hermione sighed. "Fine, okay then.I Play Pinochle With a Horse."

Leo laughed. "These chapter names are brilliant."

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovered over me, smirking as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she saw my eyes open, she asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

I managed to croak, "What?"

"No Hi, no hello, nice to meet you. Just straight to the point, aye Annabeth," Leo laughed.

She looked around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocked on the door, and the girl quickly filled my mouth with pudding.

The next time I woke up, the girl was gone. A husky blond dude, like a surfer, 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 around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

"Painful."

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry.

My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. "Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover. Not the goat boy.

So maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"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, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

"Beautiful," Luna commented.

"Why would he want it?"

"The Minotaur," I said.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea—"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" I demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she really . . ." He looked down.

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 rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

Hermione glanced up. "It sounds beautiful."

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm—I'm the worst satyr in the world."

"Lies," Coach Hedge argued.

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!" he mumbled.

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 miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaurs. All that meant was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

"Poor guy," Harry shook his head.

I was alone. An orphan. I would have to live with . . . Smelly Gabe? No. That would never happen. I would live on the streets first. I would pretend I was seventeen and join the army. I'd do something.

Grover was still sniffling. The poor kid—poor goat, satyr, whatever—looked as if he expected to be hit.

Grover glanced at him. "Sorry Grover I was in mourning please don't hurt me."

I said, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did my mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."

"But why . . ." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips.

I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. 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. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay.

"Yum," Ron licked his lips.

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."

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?"

"Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards."

"I really want to," Percy nodded.

"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."

A Ravenclaw closed her eyes. "Chiron. immortal trainer of demigods?" Annabeth nodded.

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, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

"Cool."

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and 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.

"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 you already know Chiron. . . ."

"Go sis," Nymphadora grinned at her half-sister, who laughed.

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me. First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.

"What is he doing here?"

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

"Uhh okay."

He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks." I scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.

The demigods were trying not to laugh.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

"Falling in love," Ajax teased.

She glanced at the minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something like that.

Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep." Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"Couple goals," Piper grinned, leaning against Draco.

"So," I said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex–Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D . . . does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"I'm glad you're dead, otherwise you're a waste of time."

"House call?"

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to . . . ah, take a leave of absence."

I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.

"Really," Clarisse wrinkled her nose.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

"Why does that matter?"

"I'm afraid not," I said.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.

"Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less.

"Not a big fan of Mr D are you Peter Johnson?" Draco teased

"Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.

"Please," I said, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question."

The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"

"Wow, rude, Sally is awesome," Thalia shook his head

"She said . . ." I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I asked.

He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"WHAT!"

A seventeen-year-old boy with curly blond hair and a perfect tan appeared with a boom in the middle of the hall. He wore tattered jeans, a black T-shirt and a white linen jacket with glittering rhinestone lapels. "Percy Jackson did not watch my film!?"

Hermione blinked. "What is going on?"

Draco smiled tightly. "Hey dad."

Percy looked awkward. "It's not my fault, blame Chiron and Mr. D," he said.

Apollo scoffed. "I will." And with that he disappeared.

The witches and wizards looked stunned. "Just keep reading, Hermione," Percy waved his hand.

"Orientation film?" I asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—"that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive."

I stared at the others around the table. I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet co*ke can?"

"What?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

"Umm okay then."

"Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Gods aren't real," Daphne argued.

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."

"Zeus," I said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."

"But they're stories," I said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Wow."

"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?"

Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if . . . he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut.

"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"That would be cool!" Astoria Greengrass mused.

"Percy Jackson just casually turning down being a god for Annabeth," Artemis giggled, and the Romans blinked. "What?"

I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron's voice made me hesitate.

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," I said.

"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

"Honestly Percy Jackson is probably going to be a myth someday," Draco figured.

My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"Obviously."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!"

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, "your restrictions."

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me." 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 sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"Huh," Hermione tilted her head. "That sounds familiar."

"A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet co*ke can like it was from outer space.

"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha! Absolutely unfair." Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "What is he doing there!?" she gasped.

"Who is it?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head, continuing.

"And . . ." I stammered, "your father is . . ."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master.

"You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."

The hall immediately started talking loudly, until Piper ordered them all to shut up.

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr. D."

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

"Never."

"You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man 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 knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Scary dude."

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

Hermione glanced up. "Cabin Eleven, what does that mean?" she asked.

"Hermes," Artemis waved a hand.

"Will Grover be okay?" I asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I said. "You're telling me there really is 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."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like . . . in America?"

"The gods are in America?"

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

"The what?"

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps— Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings.

And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"That actually made sense," Hannah tilted her head.

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.

"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.

The witches and wizards gasped. "He's a . . . centaur," Neville whispered.

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 my Latin teacher, 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."

Hermione turned the page. "I become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom -who comes up with these!?"

Chapter 8: PJO 1 - I become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom

Chapter Text

Once I got over the fact that my Latin teacher 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.

The hall laughed.

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. 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.

"Can you do a flip?" Nymphadora asked Percy.

"Yes! Underwater," Percy mumbled the last part

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 uppermost window of the attic gable. Something had moved the curtain, just for a second, and I got the distinct impression I was being watched.

"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.

"Something was up there though," Theodore frowned.

"He was telling the truth. Not a singlelivingthing," Nymphadora said.

"Come along, Percy," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

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. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

"That's one way to use a godly gift," Ron laughed.

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 chewed out by Mr. D.

"Grover won't get in too much trouble, will he?" I asked Chiron. "I mean . . . he was a good protector. Really."

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horse's back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover lost you in New York. Then there's the unfortunate . . . ah . . . fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

"Grover is the bravest satyr I've ever met," Percy folded his arms. Coach Hedge opened his mouth to argue, but Percy shook his head. "Did you prepare to marry a cyclops who was intent on murdering satyrs for over two weeks?"

I wanted to protest. None of what happened was Grover's fault. 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, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in sixth grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans, Percy. Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"Oh you poor satyrs," Justin shook his head.

"That's horrible."

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career. . . ."

"Hell no! Finding Pan is the only worthy career for a satyr," Coach Hedge argued.

"That's not fair," I said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Thalia was silent. Jason looked confused. "What happened last time?" he asked.

Artemis blinked. "Dude, you don't know? Thalia, Percy, Annabeth, none of you told him?"

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

But I wasn't quite ready to let the subject drop. Something had occurred to me when Chiron talked about my mother's fate, as if he were intentionally avoiding the word death. The beginnings of an idea —a tiny, hopeful fire—started forming in my mind.

"Chiron," I said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real . . ."

"Yes, child?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Nico rolled his eyes. "Nah, I just go chill in Tartarus," he joked. Annabeth and Percy glared at him. "Don't look at me like that."

Chiron's expression darkened. "Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now . . . until we know more . . . I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come, Percy. Let's see the woods."

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."

"That's not concerning in the slightest," a Gryffindor commented.

"Really? What is in the forbidden forest?" Nymphadora asked.

The Gryffindor looked stumped. "That . . . is a good point."

"Stocked with what?" I asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do you have your own sword and shield?"

"My own—?"

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five 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.

"Of course he wouldn't like the stables," Grover said.

"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.

"What do you do when it rains?" I asked.

"It doesn't," Percy answered his own question simply.

Chiron looked at me as if I'd gone a little weird. "We still have to eat, don't we?" 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 commons 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 firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. Next to her, a taller girl about fourteen with short scrappy purple hair was standing with her back to Percy and Chiron, talking to the younger girl before walking off.

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.

"It sounds amazing," Ginny said wistfully.

Artemis smiled. "It is."

"Zeus and Hera?" I guessed.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. 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."

"Well, it became my depressing cabin," Percy nodded.

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers. Number five was bright red—a real nasty 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.

Frank looked interested at what the cabin looked like.

The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALFBLOOD T-shirt 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 brown instead of red.

Clarisse blushed. "Wow, thanks."

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 a 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."

"The centaurs in the Forbidden Forest are very good to us," Nymphadora smiled.

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really . . ."

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. "I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish . . . and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

"That seems like foreshadowing."

I thought about being a teacher for three thousand years. It wouldn't have made my Top Ten Things to Wish For list.

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"No, no," he said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?"

Again, Thalia was silent, and Jason was confused.

Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again. "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 me over critically, like she was still thinking about how much I drooled. 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.

"Why were you reading Greek?" Hermione asked.

"Our minds are hardwired to read Ancient Greek," Annabeth explained.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have 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."

"For what - a week?"

Out of all the cabins, eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. 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.

"Hermes getting busy," George joked.

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, sizing me up. I knew this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

So naturally I tripped coming in the door and made a total fool of myself. There were some snickers from the campers, but none of them said anything.

Leo laughed. "Of course he did. I love tiny Perce."

Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asked.

I didn't know what to say, but Annabeth said, "Undetermined."

Everybody groaned. A guy who was a little older than the rest came forward. "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there."

The guy was about nineteen, and 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.

Leo, Jason, Piper, Hazel, Frank, and Reyna eyed the boy that had destroyed the world, while Percy, Annabeth, Grover, Thalia, Ajax, Nico, Nymphadora, Artemis and Draco glared at the book.

"This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded different somehow. I glanced over and could've sworn she was blushing. She saw me looking, and her expression hardened again. "He's 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 patron, is the god of travelers."

The twins mouth dropped in anoh

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.

I looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing me as if they were waiting for a chance to pick my pockets.

"How long will I be here?" I asked.

"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?" The campers all laughed.

"Come on," Annabeth told me. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"He's already seen it."

"I've already seen it."

"Come on." She grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind me.

When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one."

"He was the one. The love of your life," Leo teased.

"What's your problem?" I was getting angry now. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth told me. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

I shook my head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories . . ."

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So . . ."

"Monsters don't die, Percy. They can be killed. But they don't die."

"How does that work?" Ron asked.

"Annabeth will dumb it down for Percy in a second," Frank said, and Percy rolled his eyes.

"Well apparently I was too good for the orientation video, so I don't know what I was exactly supposed to know."

"Oh, thanks. That clears it up."

"They don't have souls, like you and me. You can dispel them for a while, maybe even for a whole lifetime if you're lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them archetypes. Eventually, they reform."

"There you go."

I thought about Mrs. Dodds. "You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fur . . . I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"

"You talk in your sleep."

"Helpful. No need to torture for information, just wait for him to fall asleep," Jason said.

"You almost called her something. A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

Annabeth glanced nervously at the ground, as if she expected it to open up and swallow her. "You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" I sounded whiny, even to myself, but right then I didn't care. "Why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is everybody so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

I pointed to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turned pale. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or . . . your parent."

She stared at me, waiting for me to get it. "My mom is Sally Jackson," I said. "She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

"You really should have just watched the video," Piper said.

"I'm sorry about your mom, Percy. But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

"He's dead. I never knew him."

Annabeth sighed. Clearly, she'd had this conversation before with other kids. "Your father's not dead, Percy."

"How can you say that? You know him?"

"No, of course not."

"Then how can you say—"

"Because I know you. You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."

"You don't know anything about me."

"No?" She raised an eyebrow. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."

"How—"

"Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."

"This is creepy, is she stalking him?"

I tried to swallow my embarrassment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your mind is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in the classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you seeing them for what they are."

"That . . . makes sense."

"You sound like . . . you went through the same thing?"

"Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

"Ambrosia and nectar."

"The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're a half-blood."

A half-blood. I was reeling with so many questions I didn't know where to start.

Then a husky voice yelled, "Well! A newbie!"

I looked over. The big girl from the ugly red cabin was sauntering toward us. She had three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean looking like her, all wearing camo jackets.

"Clarisse," Annabeth sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," the big girl said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

Clarisse glared at Percy, who tried to hide behind Annabeth. Clarisse's rage is scarier than anyone's, except maybe Annabeth or Ajax.

"Erre es korakas!" Annabeth said, which I somehow understood was Greek for 'Go to the crows!' though I had a feeling it was a worse curse than it sounded. "You don't stand a chance."

"We'll pulverize you," Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. Perhaps she wasn't sure she could follow through on the threat. She turned toward me. "Who's this little runt?"

"Woah, you're nice," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Percy Jackson," Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares."

Frank smiled at her. "Frank Zhang, son of Mars," he introduced.

Clarisse grinned. "Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares."

I blinked. "Like . . . the war god?"

Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?"

"No," I said, recovering my wits. "It explains the bad smell."

Frank's jaw dropped. "Percy!"

Percy looked scared as Frank turned into a bear, smacked him in the face, then turned back into a human and sat back down next to Hazel and Clarisse.

McGonagall gaped. "You're an animagus."

Frank shook his head. "Nah, it's a family trait."

Clarisse growled. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy."

"Percy."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."

"Clarisse—" Annabeth tried to say.

"Stay out of it, wise girl."

Annabeth looked pained, but she did stay out of it, and I didn't really want her help. I was the new kid. I had to earn my own rep.

I handed Annabeth my minotaur horn and got ready to fight, but 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.

The demigods were laughing, even Percy. "I can't believe this puny kid survived Tartarus," Clarisse shook her head. "Annabeth and Nico I can figure, she's well, Annabeth, and he's the son of Hades and most powerful member of the big three kids. Percy is an idiot."

I was kicking and punching. I'd been in plenty of fights before, but this big girl Clarisse had hands like iron. 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 smiled like it was a fond memory, "It was so easy to drag you when you were small and scrawny."

Clarisse's friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the strength I'd used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn't there.

"Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking." Her friends snickered.

Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers.

"Scared for your husband, Annabeth?"

Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won't.

"Eww, do kids actually do this?" Ernie shuddered. "That's revolting."

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.

The room gasped as Percy displayed his power

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.

The kids burst into laughter, while Clarisse just looked sulky.

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 camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

As soon as they were out the door, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started.

The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth hadn't been spared. She was dripping wet, but she hadn't been pushed out the door. She was standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.

Percy gave Annabeth a squeeze. "Sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine, you weren't in control," Annabeth whispered back.

I looked down and realized I was sitting in the only dry spot in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around me. I didn't have one drop of water on my clothes. Nothing. I stood up, my legs shaky.

"How did you not figure out who his dad was from that? I mean - it can't get more obvious!" Leo threw his hands in the air.

Annabeth said, "How did you . . ."

"I don't know."

We walked to the door. Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face. Her camouflage jacket was sopping and she smelled like sewage. She gave me a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead."

Percy scoffed. "I've survived worse than Clarisse."

"That's enough Clarisse."

I turned to see the girl with purple hair leaning against one of the trees. She had a pale heart shaped face, and twinkling grey eyes. The girl was watching me, intrigued, and was spinning a blade in her hand.

Nymphadora smirked.

Clarisse straightened when she saw the girl, glaring daggers at her. Clearly there was something about the purple haired girl that commanded respect from the campers. "Thena-"

"Enough," Thena pulled off the tree and stalked over to Clarisse. "Unless you want to gargle toilet water again Clarisse, let it go."

The girl seemed to intimidate the other campers, who skulked away slowly. Clarisse scoffed, breaking her eye contact with the other girl and going back to Cabin Five with her friends.

Thena turned to Annabeth and raised an eyebrow, as if sending a silent message. She then turned to me, winking. "See you around Percy Jackson."

"How did Thena know your name?"

Before I could ask how she knew my name, Thena had strode off. I frowned, glancing at Annabeth, who just stared at me. I couldn't tell whether she was just grossed out or angry at me for dousing her.

"What?" I demanded. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," she said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag."

Clarisse, remembering what had happened, shot Percy and Annabeth another glare.

"Okay, next chapter," Hermione flicked the page over. "This is a kind of normal one - thank Morgana.My dinner goes up in smoke."

Chapter 9: PJO 1 - My dinner goes up in smoke

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 showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), 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.

"Because that's safe," Ron laughed.

Artemis turned to look at him. "What is in the Forbidden Forest Ron? Do you know every being in there? Hogwarts is even less safe, at least we can count on the camp to keep out monsters - when Luke doesn't get involved that is."

"So who was that other girl?" I asked Annabeth as we made our way back to the canoeing lake.

Annabeth stopped, and I turned to look at her. "Come with me," she ordered, and I followed her down towards the edge of the woods.

"What did Clarisse call her - Thena? Why is everyone scared of her?" I asked.

Annabeth slowed down, leading me down a stone path. "That was Nymphadora Black. She's a Black Legacy," she told me, like I was expected to know what that meant. Annabeth sighed aggressively when I didn't respond, muttering something under her breath.

The hall turned to look at Nymphadora, who smiled softly and waved her fingers.

"You're a demigod?" Fred gaped.

Nymphadora nodded. "Daughter of Athena."

"Okay, so you know about the Greeks, obviously. But there are other kinds of magic. She's a witch, and she comes from a very long line of halfbloods. When the very first member of the House of Black became a demigod, the family saw how powerful it made them. So now, every Heir and Heiress of the house has to have a demigod firstborn," Annabeth summarized as we reached the edge of the path.

The wizards looked shocked with the news. "Hey - the Black legacies cannot be worse than Octavian," Reyna scoffed.

The trees broke away, and she gestured to the bottom of the hill, where four demigods were fighting. I recognized Nymphadora immediately by her purple hair. The others were younger, around my age. The closest had messy blonde hair, and was fighting with Nymphadora. The seemed to be equally matched in skill. On his other side, another boy was fighting. His mere presence scared me. It wasn't his behavior, the boy seemed cheeky and was enjoying toying with his fighting partner, teasing her as he tossed his shoulder length dark hair at her. There was something about him, I just felt afraid. His partner was shorter than him, and more aggressive. Her body seemed to glow with an aura of power. She had dark brown hair that was braided tightly and wrapped in a bun. All four of them seemed extremely strong.

Annabeth watched my reactions closely. "It's a common reaction, being scared of him. The boy with dark hair, that's Ajax Black. His dad is Deimos, the god of terror. Right now, it's just a reflex to be scared of him, but when he gets more control, undoubtably he'll be one of the strongest. Imagine being able to inflict terror on your opponents. Bravery is half the battle."

"Wow."

The hall seemed shocked by the revelation of Ajax's parenthood. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at the power the boy displayed.

"The blonde one, that's his cousin Draco Black. Son of Apollo. Their mums are sisters. Deadliest with a bow, like his father, and remarkable at healing, both magically and medically."

"Draco Black?" Harry frowned.

Draco scoffed. "Like I'd use my poor excuse for a fake father's name at camp. I am a Black Legacy, not a Malfoy," he answered.

"Nymphadora's my half sister. Her father Regulus died when she was young, she lives with Regulus's cousin Andromeda, Ajax's mum. She's a metamorphosis, she can change her appearance at will. She despises the name Nymphadora, so everyone calls her Thena, because of her middle name. Nymphadora Thena Black. The only reason I have been calling her that is for your sake."

"Call me Nymphadora and I will kill you," Thena threatened.

"Lastly, the dark haired girl is Artemis Black, daughter of Circe. She lives with Draco's family, after a big drama with her dad ending up in prison when she was a baby. Her dad is Regulus's older brother. She's powerful with and without their powers."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. The four were powerful, and Draco held no regard for his Death Eater father. Dumbledore needed to take advantage of their power.

"The Blacks are a Legacy, and they are expected to be the most powerful demigods. From the moment they can stand, they are taught to run. When they can carry things, they are taught to fight. As soon as they display a sign of magic, they are taught how to wield it. They are raised to be the best of us, and Ajax, Artemis and Draco spend six months here learning combat, and six months in Britain learning magic. Thena goes to her magic boarding school, so she only spends Summer and holidays here.

"Seems like a lot of pressure," I noted, watching the four fight. Their movements were fluid and strong, and they seemed to know how to fight exceptionally well.

Annabeth whistled loudly, and the four turned immediately. "Come on," she told me, and I followed her down the stone steps to where the Blacks were waiting.

My terror didn't vanish as I neared Ajax, but his crooked smile relieved the fear a bit. His gray eyes looked me up and down as he dragged a hand through his hair.

Ajax grinned at how much Percy feared him.

"Wait," Hermione glanced up. "You inspire fear and you were sorted into a house filled with brave and courageous kids? Isn't that a bit . . . hypocritical?"

Ajax shrugged. "I'm not a hat."

Hermione blinked. "That's not - what?"

"Just keep reading," Artemis waved her hand.

Artemis stood next to him drinking out of a large gray bottle, barely acknowledging I had joined. She turned to whisper something to Draco, who was right next to her, and the boy raised a perfect eyebrow. T he two seemed joint at the hip. Draco had light blonde hair that lay almost as messy as Ajax's obnoxious unruly curls, and the same striking grey eyes as Artemis, Annabeth and Thena.

"Your hair looks strange," Pansy commented.

Draco twirled a finger through his messy strands.

Like the last time we met, Thena was twirling a dagger between her fingers as she watched me. It felt like I was under a microscope. All four of them were astoundingly beautiful, probably from all the Godly inbreeding.

The Blacks choked. "Percy!"

"So this is the boy who slayed the Minotaur," Ajax smirked as Annabeth and I approached. He circled me, looking me up and down. "No grey eyes. Chiron visit. Dark hair. Water. Green eyes, minotaur," he murmured.

"What's he doing?" Ginny frowned.

"Trying to figure out his parent," Luna explained.

Annabeth was watching Ajax unbothered, as if it was a regular occurrence. Thena eyed me. "He's trying to figure out who your parent is," she explained.

That made me feel better. Artemis and Draco seemed to have their own ideas, occasionally whispering to each other.

"I am sorry about your mother," Artemis spoke for the first time. I clenched my eyes shut, trying not to think about the way she dissolved. "It is painful to lose those closest to you." She sounded although she was speaking from personal experience.

Harry smiled at Artemis, who reciprocated the gesture.

"I - thank you," I breathed, opening my eyes to look at the pity from the four cousins.

"This is Percy Jackson, currently of the Hermes cabin," Annabeth introduced.

Ajax grinned. "You'll be with Arty and I then. Minor gods for parents means we stay in there too," he explained.

"Thank the gods Percy changed that," Artemis sighed. "Hecate's cabin is much nicer."

"We should leave you to your training," Annabeth said, dragging me back up towards the stairs.

"See you at dinner," Ajax waved, before turning back towards Draco and whispering something to him.

Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins. "I've got training to do," Annabeth said. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall."

"Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets."

"Whatever."

"It wasn't my fault."

The demigods scoffed, including Percy, at the young boy. "Poseidon just decided to take a break from waring with thunder undies to smack a bunch of Ares kids in the face with water?" Percy joked.

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.

"'I wonder who my dad is,'" Leo mocked.

"You need to talk to the Oracle," Annabeth said.

"Who?"

"N ot 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.

"Well considering your dad."

I didn't know what else to do. I waved back.

"Don't encourage them," Annabeth warned. "Naiads are terrible flirts."

"So they are teenage girls?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Or teenage boys."

"Naiads," I repeated, feeling completely overwhelmed. "That's it. I want to go home now."

Nico scoffed. "Is that what did it for you? Not the death of Sally, not the-teacher-is-a-centaur, not the gods, not Clarisse, but the existence of naiads?"

Percy lifted his chin. "Just because you were excited when you were ten/ eighty," he huffed.

Hermione frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Lotus Casino. You'll find out in eight or so chapters," Annabeth waved a hand.

Annabeth frowned. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."

"You mean, mentally disturbed kids?"

"ADHD, dyslexia, PTSD, so yeah, technically," Artemis shrugged.

"I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway. Half-human."

"Half-human and half-what?"

"Didn't we go over this like twenty seconds ago?" Draco rolled his grey eyes.

"I think you know."

I didn't want to admit it, but I was afraid I did. I felt a tingling in my limbs, a sensation I sometimes felt when my mom talked about my dad.

"God," I said.

"Half god." Annabeth nodded. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians."

"That's ... crazy."

"Is it? What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"

"We are all creatures of habit."

"But those are just—" I almost said myths again. Then I remembered Chiron's warning that in two thousand years, I might be considered a myth. "But if all the kids here are half-gods—"

"Demigods," Annabeth said. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods."

"For the sake of this, can't we just refer to wizard half bloods as halfbloods, and you guys as demigods? It'd make it less confusing," Zacharias Smith sighed.

"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."

"He's human."

"What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"

"You guys know that gods can procreate from same-gender relationships, right?" Nico frowned.

The demigods blinked. "What? Where did you hear that?" Reyna asked.

"Persephone," Nico shrugged.

"Who's your mom, then?"

"Cabin six."

"Meaning?"

Annabeth straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle. Thena is our Cabin Counselor."

Thena smirked.

"Girl named after Athena being Counselor of Athena's cabin? Makes sense," a first year Gryffindor nodded.

"Or maybe it was because of my abilities, not my name?" Thena raised an eyebrow.

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, Percy. Gods don't always reveal their identities."

"My dad would have. He loved her."

Annabeth gave me a cautious look. She didn't want to burst my bubble. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens."

"You mean sometimes it doesn't?"

Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always . . . Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us."

"Sometimes? Artemis, Poseidon and Hades are the only gods who give a sh*t. Artemis created a girl gang to deal with her own issues, the others just throw their dramas and rivalries on us," Ajax hmphed.

I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. I'd known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn't have the time to deal with them. But gods should behave better.

"Yeah gods."

"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."

Piper's jaw dropped, and she turned to narrow her eyes at Annabeth. "Really? You think daughters of Aphrodite are weak? May I remind you who brought a dead metal dragon back to life with just a few sentences about how Festus is our friend?"

Annabeth winced. "Sorry Pipes, I -"

"Jump on the table and do a backflip."

Annabeth obeyed. "Pipes -"

"That's enough Pipes, do we have to do this now?" Draco put a hand on Piper's, and she looked back at Hermione.

"But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge 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, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."

Leo and Piper high-fived.

"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?"

"Grudges against parents," Percy grumbled

"Practice fights. Practical jokes."

"Practical jokes?"

"Fred and George would totally let in a monster for sh*ts and giggles," Ron nodded.

"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.

"Pretty."

"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 most of the counselors, and they're all in college. Except the Blacks, they've been here since they were five."

"That's a long time."

"Why did you come so young?"

She twisted the ring on her necklace. "None of your business."

Thalia was silent, but gave her friend a squeeze.

"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, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless . . ."

"That is a very mild version of Percy suicide."

"Unless?"

"You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time . . ." Her voice trailed off. I could tell from her tone that the last time hadn't gone well.

"Thanks a lot Luke."

"Back in the sick room," I said, "when you were feeding me that stuff—"

"Ambrosia."

"Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice."

Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you do know something?"

"He's Percy, he doesn't know anything, but throws himself in headfirst anyway," Frank reminded.

"Well . . . no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?"

She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, 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."

"You've been to Olympus?"

"Some of us year-rounders—Luke and Clarisse and the Blacks and I and a few others—we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council."

"So you get to watch your parents bicker? Entertaining."

"But . . . how did you get there?"

"The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." She looked at me like she was sure I must know this already. "You are a New Yorker, right?"

"Well I didn't watch the video, which is stupid," Percy sighed.

"But she would've assumed you had," Artemis reminded him.

"Oh, sure." As far as I knew, there were only a hundred and two floors in the Empire State Building, but I decided not to point that out.

"Right after we visited," Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, 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. When you came, I was hoping . . . I mean— Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something."

"The boy who clearly knows nothing about anything, and wasn't allowed to watch the orientation video?"

I shook my head. I wished I could help her, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions.

"I've got to get a quest," Annabeth muttered to herself. "I'm not too young. If they would just tell me the problem . . ."

"Because a twelve year old will be able to help so much."

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 pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan.

"I was just tracing my fingers," Annabeth rolled her eyes.

Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to me as I walked over to my spot on the floor and plopped down with my minotaur horn.

The counselor, 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.

"He's Luke, doubt it," Artemis scoffed.

"Thanks," I accepted them.

"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. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier."

Percy scoffed. "Understatement of the millennia."

The bitterness in his voice surprised me, because Luke seemed like a pretty easygoing guy. He looked like he could handle just about anything.

"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."

"He probably was gonna gut you," Draco said.

"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."

"Thieves! It was right there," Percy shook his head.

"You didn't know," Hazel reminded him softly. "None of you did."

The witches and wizards exchanged looks. What did this boy do?

I figured Luke didn't mean to call me a nobody. He just had a lot on his mind. "You ever meet 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 extended family, right? We take care of each other."

The demi gods scoffed. "Yeah, totally," Clarisse rolled her eyes.

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 middle-schooler 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 all day.

Thena scoffed. "So I didn't save you from getting your ass handed to you again by Clarisse?" she raised an eyebrow.

I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon.

"Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth . . . twice, she said I might be 'the one.' She said I should talk to the Oracle. What was that all about?"

Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies."

Leo tilted his head. "How many prophecies have you been a part of Percy?" he asked curiously.

Percy frowned. "Huh. Well there was the lightning bolt one, the one in the sea of monsters, the one where we rescued Annabeth, the one in the labyrinth, the great big prophecy about a big three kid, the really sh*t one Ares-as-Mars gave us, the one Ella memorized, the one about Athena's Parthenos, the one when Annabeth and I were in Tartarus. Ten or so in total," he counted.

The demigods blinked. "Hey, Annabeth's been a part of like all of them, not just me," Percy pointed out.

"Holy f*ck."

"What do you mean?"

His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. 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."

"Future boyfriend?"

"Somebody special?"

"Don't worry about it, kid," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for. 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.

"Well maybe, its because Poseidon," Ajax shrugged.

Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"

Almost the whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last. Campers came from the other cabins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, cabin six, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.

The Black cousins came from their training area, Draco joining other blonde children, Thena disappearing inside Annabeth's cabin before emerging with the rest of Athena's children. Artemis and Ajax joined Luke at the very front of the queue.

"Why weren't you two counselors, if you'd had so much experience?" Blaise asked curiously.

"Because we didn't want to," Artemis answered. "And we couldn't head a cabin we weren't children of."

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 a 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.

Ajax sighed. "That's life in Cabin Eleven."

I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Thena and Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey-blond hair. Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends.

Clarisse scoffed. "I amnotover being smacked in the head with toilet water Jackson!"

Percy winced. "Clarisse is scarier than Kronos, but Annabeth still has her beat," he said, earning a smack from his girlfriend.

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!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue!

My glass was empty, but Ajax said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want—nonalcoholic, of course."

I said, "Cherry co*ke." The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid. Then I had an idea. "Blue Cherry co*ke."

Percy smiled. "Blue food is superior."

The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt. I took a cautious sip. Perfect. I drank a toast to my mother. She's not gone, I told myself. Not permanently, anyway. She's in the Underworld. And if that's a real place, then someday . . .

"And they told me it was impossible," Percy scoffed.

"Here you go, Percy," Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket. I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite 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," Ajax nudged me with a grin. Despite his joyful bubbly personality, I couldn't help shivering in fear.

"I'm told it's a natural reflex," Ajax grinned.

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."

"You're kidding."

"So that's why you burn your food," Hermione murmured.

"It saved our lives once," Annabeth added.

His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food. Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes."

Artemis tossed all of her meat in. "Circe."

"She's vegetarian," Ajax whispered to me.

Artemis sighed. "Killing animals is wrong."

"And yet you are named after the goddess of the hunt."

"Artemis is the goddess of wild animals, the moon, vegetation, chastity and childbirth as well," Artemis raised her chin.

He spooned half of his fruit in. "Deimos."

I was next. I wished I knew what god's name to say. Finally, I made a silent plea. Whoever you are, tell me. Please.

"How long did it take?" Frank asked.

Percy shrugged. "A week."

"Ha!" Leo grinned. "I got you beat. When I stepped into Camp Half Blood, I was claimed immediately."

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.

"Well they couldn't starve to death anyway," Hazel shrugged.

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

Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels." A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

" Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Peter Johnson." Chiron murmured something. "Er, Percy Jackson," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on."

"Dionysus is the funniest, ay Perry Jonas," Clarisse teased. "And his girlfriend Annbel Casserole."

Annabeth sighed, and Jason chuckled. "Stop laughing Jerome Gondor," Annabeth told him.

"The Dionysus names are as funny as Louis Venezuela lighting himself on fire whenever 'Girl on fire' or 'Light Em Up I'm on fire' plays," Piper laughed.

Leo blushed. "Shut up Penelope McAllister," he told her, and Piper closed her eyes, resigning to his teasing.

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. I felt that I was home.

"For like ten minutes - "

"A week."

"Same thing."

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 thought about my mom, but I had good thoughts: her smile, the bedtime stories she would read me when I was a kid, the way she would tell me not to let the bedbugs bite.

"You can't exactly stop the bed bugs."

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

I wish I'd known how briefly I would get to enjoy my new home.

"You got used to it."

"Okay, next chapter," Hermione sighed.

"I can take over if you'd like," Astoria offered, taking up Hermione's seat. "We capture a flag."

Chapter 10: PJO 1 - We Capture A Flag

Chapter Text

The next few days 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.

"That is normal," Clarisse rolled her eyes.

Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a couple of mornings, I could stumble through a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at.

"Nothing."

"Clarisse!"

Chiron tried to teach me archery, but we found out pretty quick 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.

The demigods winced. "We must all pray Percy never has to replace Draco as archer then," Nico stated.

Annabeth shook her head. "Please never go anywhere near a bow, we'd all like to keep our body parts," she grimaced.

"I'm notthatbad," Percy rolled his eyes. Every demi-god gave him incredulous looks.

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.

Leo snorted.

And wrestling? Forget it. Every time I got on the mat, Clarisse would pulverize me. "There's more where that came from, punk," she'd mumble in my ear.

Clarisse smirked. "It was soo easy."

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 Minota ur.

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.

"It's so freaking obvious. Do they have no sense?" Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Pot meet kettle," Ajax rolled his eyes. "Hermione, quote?"

"'A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic'," Hermione quoted herself.

"See, even she knows."

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 metalwork or—gods forbid— Dionysus's way with vine plants.

"Even if you were, Mr D would never claim you," Grover said.

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.

"Well he certainly figured it out," Clarisse ran a hand through her head.

Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. 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.

Nothing came. Just that warm feeling I'd always had, like the memory of his smile. 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. . . .

"It's so fair how illegal son of Poseidon could bring back his mother, but legal son of Hades cannot bring back daughter of Hades," Nico rolled his eyes.

I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet co*ke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my dad, whoever he was, make a phone appear?

"Because he doesn't want you to die," Leo rolled his eyes.

Thursday afternoon, three 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. Artemis and Ajax were attending the lesson, which according to Luke, was unusual. The Blacks usually trained on their own.

Artemis shrugged. "We wanted to test a theory."

We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I guess I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good.

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.

We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be my partner, since this was my first time.

"And he planned on killing Percy."

"Good luck," one of the campers told me. "Luke's the best non-Black swordsman in the last three hundred years."

"Maybe he'll go easy on me," I said. The camper snorted.

"First and last time I thought that," Percy sighed.

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!

By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Ajax whispered to Artemis before pouring ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea, I did the same.

Ajax smirked. "Knew he'd do it."

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 older years choked. "Percy hone, wrong choice of words," Piper told the boy.

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."

Nobody looked at the Blacks.

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?"

"Oh you have no idea how ready."

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. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before Luke took me down, so I figured, What the heck? I tried the disarming maneuver.

My blade hit the base of Luke's and I twisted, putting my whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang.

Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of my blade was an inch from his undefended chest.

Percy applauded. "Go me!"

Leo laughed. "You cheater."

The other campers were silent. I lowered my sword. "Um, sorry."

The hall burst into laughter. "They were looking at me like I'd done something wrong!" Percy exclaimed.

For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak. "Sorry?" His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

I didn't want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted.

This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised at me with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword. . . ."

"Kick your ass."

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 shirt had smoking holes in it. The hairs had been singed off my forearms.

"At least they could singe the hairs off," Ron glowered at the twins who had burnt his arm hairs off more times than he could count.

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?"

"What's that?" someone asked.

"The God Pan went missing, and the bravest satyrs volunteer to try to find him. It's explained more in the next adventure," Percy waved a hand.

"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?"

"He wouldn't be here if he did," Coach Hedge said.

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."

"Thanks Mr. D," Grover grinned at the sky.

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?"

Percy rolled his eyes, "Of course, There's no reason I wouldn't want you going with me, G-Man." He shot Grover with a slight smile.

Grover shrugged, "You never know."

"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 be mad."

"It's for the Hunters of Artemis," Artemis explained. "Artemis's girl gang monster fighters like Thalia."

"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. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job."

The hall burst into laughter. "Oh my gods Grover!" Ajax gasped.

"When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos."

"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades."

"Hey Percy," Leo tilted his head. "What doyouthink is the order of the most powerful big three children?" he asked.

Percy drummed his fingers on the table. "Nico is number one obviously. He can raise a freaking skeleton army. Hazel's number two, with her whole mist and jewel situation. Number three is probably Jason, I'm number four, Thalia number five, since I haven't really seen what you can do. I spent, what, a week, two weeks with you? And Bianca never really had a chance to unlock her abilities, so she'd be last."

Leo frowned. "Percy, you cause a volcano to blow up. You manipulated poison and almost killed the goddess of poison! The objective listing is you're number one, Nico's number two, hazel's three, Jason is four, Thalia is five, but those two could probably flip-flop, and Bianca's six. You felt a god at twelve and won, like shut up."

The other demigods nodded. "I totally agree Seaweed Brain," Annabeth said. "You would've killed her if I didn't stop you."

Percy sighed. "I agree with my list."

"Your list is wrong," Hazel shook her head.

"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."

"That's rude. Just because he drew a certain lot, he doesn't get to be included?" Parvati disagreed.

"No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here . . ." Grover shuddered. " Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that."

Nico threw a pomegranate at Grover.

"But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?"

Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx."

"Wait!"

The muggleborns gaped, and Hermione stood up. "Are you kidding me! World War II was about THE DEMIGODS! How did I not know this!"

"Hide your books Annabeth. Hermione's gonna steal them," Draco warned.

"Wait - again," Hermione turned to Jason, Nico, Percy, Thalia and Hazel. "You are Big Three kids. They broke the oath?"

Grover sighed. "I'm about to explain Thalia's story in the book."

Nico shook his head. "I was born before the oath. Then my sister Bianca and I stayed at a casino that - well we stayed at the Lotus Casino, and that is later in this book. Basically, you don't age because time moves slower than passes in the outside world. I may look young, but I'm like eighty something."

Hazel nodded. "And I died. Then Nico brought me back after he went searching for Bianca, but she'd already passed on. Hades is like the only one who didn't break the oath."

Thalia ran a hand through her hair. "Jason's my younger brother. When we were young, Hera was a little bitch -" she shouted at the ceiling. "- and stole him from us!"

Thunder boomed, and Thalia pulled the finger at the sky. Jason sighed. "Pretty much."

Thunder boomed.

"That's the most serious oath you can make," I said. Grover nodded.

"And the brothers kept their word—no kids?"

"Fat chance."

Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo—he just couldn't help himself."

"Horny arse."

"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."

"Thalia, that's you," Daphne said slowly, and they nodded.

"But that isn't fair! It wasn't the little girl's fault."

"yeah!" Thalia glared at the ground. "f*ck off Hades."

Grover hesitated. "Percy, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia."

"I hate your dad," Thalia told Nico and Hazel, who didn't bother to defend him.

" A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill."

He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where I'd fought the minotaur.

"All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a hoard of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill."

The hall was silent in mourning and admiration of Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus.

Jason looked heartbroken, leaning against his sister to make sure she was okay. Thalia gave him a hug. "I'm okay."

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.

"I know I'm cool Jackson, you don't have to keep going on about it," Thalia tossed her hair.

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?

"Can you stop going on about it, it's getting old?" Clarisse rolled her eyes.

"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—"

"Of course he is."

"No," I lied. "I was just wondering. So . . . a satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?"

Grover studied me warily. I hadn't persuaded him that I'd really dropped the Underworld idea.

"Of course not!" Grover scoffed. "He's impertinent!"

"Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. 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."

Percy looked offended. "I never-"

"How many times have you been a fugitive?" Percy didn't say anything, so Grover nodded. "What I thought."

"And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special."

Grover looked as if I'd just led him into a trap. "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 god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?"

"How wrong were you G-man?" Percy teased.

I got the idea he was reassuring himself more than me.

That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual. At last, it was time for capture the flag.

Reyna, Hazel, Frank, Jason, Piper, and Leo looked a bit surprised. "Capture the Flag? Demigods do that?" Piper blinked. The Camp Half Blood demigods smirked.

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 gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

Frank didn't seem excited about wearing something like that.

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."

"Because god of war and goddess of battle strategy. Makes sense," a Ravenclaw nodded.

"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 probably did."

The scar on his face made him look almost evil in the torchlight. "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.

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.

The demigods mourned the deceased son of Dionysus, Castor.

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.

Piper didn't bother to say anything. Her siblings were a lot different from her.

Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Frank and Clarisse looked offended.

And then there were the Blacks. Apparently there was a rule that half on each team, otherwise it's a disadvantage. This round was Thena of Athena and Draco of Apollo fighting for Athena, while Artemis and Ajax were with Ares.

The Blacks smirked. "Who wins?" Ron asked curiously.

"Ajax and Artemis work really well together, so they use their magic to scare off opponents, Draco shoots anyone who comes close to the flag with an arrow, Thena takes out an opponent, steals their helmet, then morphs into them. Makes it hard to trust," Annabeth explained.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble. "Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. 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!"

"Concerning that no killing or maiming has to even be said," Minnie shook her head.

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide 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."

Clarisse and Percy glared at each other.

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 horsehair 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 managed to catch up with Annabeth without tripping over my equipment. " Hey."

She kept marching.

"Wow, say hello to your future husband," Leo ordered Annabeth, who glared.

"So what's the plan?" I asked. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Her hand drifted toward her pocket, as if she were afraid I'd stolen something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol, whatever that means."

"It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan." She pushed ahead, leaving me in the dust.

"She could've killed me," Percy huffed.

"The plan would've worked either way," Annabeth told him.

"Okay," I mumbled. "Glad you wanted me on your team."

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 huge shield, I felt like an idiot.

"You looked like one two," Clarisse told me.

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.

There was no way anybody would actually attack me, would they? I mean, Olympus had to have liability issues, right?

"Honestly," Annabeth shook her head.

"You never know with this kid," Fred laughed.

"It's a huge problem," Annabeth told him.

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.

Great, I thought. I'll miss all the fun, as usual.

"Percy you've been going on about how much you suck at everything!" Annabeth reminded him. "Don't complain when I side-line you."

"CONSTANT VIGILENCE!"

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by.

"It was there that early? I assumed Luke mumbled about letting it in when your dad was revealed," Annabeth frowned

I raised my shield 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.

Clarisse smirked.

Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light.

"Oh I loved breaking that spear," Percy told Clarisse, who looked like she was about to throttle him.

Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better.

They charged across the stream. There was no help in sight. I could run. Or I could defend myself against half the Ares cabin.

"Don't be dramatic, it was five of us," Clarisse rolled her eyes.

I 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. My shield deflected the point, but I felt a painful tingling all over my body. My hair stood on end. My shield arm went numb, and the air burned.

Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric.

"Coool," George said. "I want one."

"No, absolutely not!" Hermione stopped him.

I fell back. Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt. They could've kicked me into jelly, but they were too busy laughing.

"Give him a haircut," Clarisse said. "Grab his hair."

"What's with the hair?" Thalia asked.

Percy shook his head. "I honestly have no clue. Thanks Clarisse, you encouraged me to keep my hair short," he said.

Clarisse smiled sweetly. "Glad I could be of service Jack-ass."

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.

"Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared."

"The flag is that way," I told her. I wanted to sound angry, but I was afraid it didn't come out that way.

"You gave up the flag," Grover shook his head.

"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.

"Really Percy?" Hermione tutted.

"I had no clue where the flag was," Percy told her.

Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise my shield, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, I would've been shish-ke-babbed.

As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabinmates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut.

"No maiming!" Ginny argued

Seeing my own blood made me dizzy—warm and cold at the same time. "No maiming," I managed to say. "It's like the one rule."

"Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege."

"DESSERT PRIVILEGE!" Minerva shrieked.

He pushed me into the creek and I landed with a splash.

"Oh you're all dead now," Thalia shook her head.

They all laughed. I figured as soon as they were through being amused, I would die.

But then something happened. The water seemed to wake up my senses, as if I'd just had a bag of my mom's double-espresso jelly beans.

"What?" Hazel laughed. "That's your comparison? You never cease to amaze me Jackson."

Clarisse and her cabinmates came into the creek to get me, but I stood to meet them. I knew what to do. 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.

"Eyes vibrating?" Neville mumbled.

Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. I slammed one in the face with my shield and used my sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn't look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, I caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig.

"Ooh," Ginny winced.

"Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!" She probably would've said worse, but I smacked her between the eyes with my sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek.

"Asshole, that was a gift from my father," Clarisse grumbled.

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. Arrows were flying from Draco's bow and taking out the targets.]

The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse. "A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick."

"No one told you to come after me," Percy huffed.

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.

Artemis, Clarisse and Ajax sulked.

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, "Not bad, hero." I looked, but she wasn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"Are you kidding me!" Harry gaped. "You just let him get his ass handed to him?"

"Wow," Percy shook his head. "Thanks Boy-Who-Lived. So nice."

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 shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get me pulverized."

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but . . ." She shrugged. "You didn't need help." Then she noticed my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"Weren't you watching him?" Astoria mumbled.

"That's not what she's talking about," Percy corrected

"Sword cut," I said. "What do you think?"

"No. It was a sword cut. Look at it."

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.

"How does that work?" Ron frowned.

The gears turned in Hermione's brain. "Poseidon."

"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, Percy."

"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.

"Oh, Styx," she cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus. . . ."

"Why is Poseidon's son worse?" Thalia frowned.

"I knew you loved me," Percy teased.

"Shut up, no I don't," Thalia argued.

Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest.

The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth drew her sword. There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

The witches and wizards looked scared.

It was looking straight at me. Nobody moved except Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, run!"

"Protecting your husband."

She tried to step in front of me, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her—an enormous shadow with teeth— and just as it hit me, as I stumbled backward and felt its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor , there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hound's neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet.

"Thanks Dragon," Percy grinned

By some miracle, I was still alive. I didn't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor. My chest felt warm and wet, and I knew I was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat.

Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim. Draco lowered his bow and ran from the forest over to me. "You okay?" he asked, looking over my wounds. His hand had a tender green glow as it hovered over my chest.

Madam Pomfrey looked impressed. "You can heal?" she mused.

Draco nodded. "Perks of being an Apollo kid."

"Di immortales!" Annabeth said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't . . . they're not supposed to . . ."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke came over.

"Wow, perfect timing Castellan," Ajax scoffed.

The banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone. Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her.

We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared.

"You're wounded," Annabeth told me. "Quick, Percy, get in the water."

"I'm okay."

"You mean insane!?"

"No, you're not," she said. "Chiron, watch this."

I was too tired to argue. I stepped back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me. Instantly, I felt better. I could feel the cuts on my chest closing up. Some of the campers gasped.

"Look, I—I don't know why," I said, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry. . . ."

"Should we be concerned about his tendency to over apologize?" Grover mumbled.

But they weren't watching my wounds heal. They were staring at something above my head.

"Percy," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um . . ."

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.

"Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good."

"It is determined," Chiron announced.

All around me, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it.

"My father?" I asked, completely bewildered.

"No, your younger sibling."

"Poseidon," said Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."

"How come he got that whole freaking thing?" Leo grumbled.

"Because he's a main character. Anyway," Astoria said. "I am offered a quest."

"How come you get the normal names?" Hermione sighed.

Chapter 11: PJO 1 - I get offered a Quest

Chapter Text

"Already?" Reyna frowned. "You rock up to camp, fail at everything, someone tries to kill you, you get claimed, and you get a quest? Seriously?"

"That's how camp half blood works," Clarisse told her.

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.

And I was absolutely miserable.

"Wow."

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.

Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but I got the feeling they were all talking about it behind my back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that I was the son of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill me. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.

The other campers steered clear of me as much as possible. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with me after what I'd done to the Ares folks in the woods.

"You guys shunned him!" Hermione gaped. "That's horrible."

so my lessons with Luke became one-on-one. He pushed me harder than ever, and wasn't afraid to bruise me up in the process.

"So nothing new," Annabeth sighed.

"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised, as we were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."

Annabeth still taught me Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time I said something, she scowled at me, as if I'd just poked her between the eyes. After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest . . . Poseidon? . . . Dirty rotten . . . Got to make a plan . . ."

Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill me for breaking her magic spear. I wished she would just yell or punch me or something. I'd rather get into fights every day than be ignored

"You could've just asked," Clarisse said.

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 EILEEN SMYTHE

"Luke I'm gonna kill him!" Annabeth growled.

Sally Jackson and son Percy 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.

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 expressed violent tendencies in the past.

"f*ck off Smelly," Percy growled.

Police would not say whether son Percy is a suspect in his mother'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 threw it away, then flopped down in my bunk bed in the middle of my empty cabin.

"Lights out," I told myself miserably.

That night, I had my worst dream yet.

"Unsurprising."

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.

"Oh my gods - literally," Nico rolled his eyes. "They're so dramatic."

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 demigods snorted. "They are children," Piper agreed.

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 hero, the voice crooned. Come down!

"Shut up Grandpa," Percy scowled.

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?"

"He wants to kill . . . I mean, I'd better let him tell you."

"He wants to kill you!" Harry gaped.

"What happened to you in first year, Potter? And second, and third?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"And fourth," Ron added.

"Fourth? Seriously?" Ajax tutted. "What teacher was it?"

Hermione sighed. "Moody was actually Polyjuiced Barty Crouch Jr., and he put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire and conspired so that he'd win," she explained.

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.

"So real," Percy nodded.

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."

"No it won't."

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.

"Cheaters," Grover mumbled

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.

"Well, well," Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity."

"You're more of the celebrity Mr Dionysus. The God," Hermione shook her head.

I waited. "Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

"Didn't expect you to," Percy sighed.

A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house. "Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said.

Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble."

"It would've been inevitable," Percy sighed. "Beyond the grave I'd cause mayhem."

" But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in.

"Yes, it is."

"Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Oh my," Annabeth groaned.

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose."

"What's that?" a Gryffindor asked.

"Another type of dolphin," Percy explained.

"Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."

"For real," Percy sighed.

Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass.

He snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, 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.

"Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name made me shudder. Chiron probably wanted me to say, Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast.

"Why would he want you to say that?" Cho frowned.

"Who knows, it's Chiron," Percy sighed.

But I didn't feel like lying. "It scared me," I said. "If Draco hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."

"You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done."

"Thanks Chiron, super comforting," Percy smiled tightly.

"Done . . . with what?"

"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?"

I glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers. "Um, sir," I said, "you haven't told me what it is yet."

"Probably best to tell him what he's signing up for," Ginny looked interested.

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?"

"You know, even I'm surprised I guessed that," Percy frowned, "I wasn't completely right, but I was close enough."

Grover nodded, "Trust me, you surprised me and Chiron."

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.

"Wow, you were demoted from Grover to satyr," Coach Hedge laughed.

"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."

Frank, Hazel, Jason, Leo, Piper and Reyna gaped. "Jupiter's lightning bolt was stolen!" Hazel gaped. "Why did we not hear about this until now?"

Artemis shrugged. "I forgot?"

"Tessa!" Reyna hissed.

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."

"I should make some - "

"No," Annabeth interrupted Leo.

"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.

"Someone stole Zeus's Master Bolt?" Hermione checked.

"Yup."

"Whom?"

"That's a spoiler," Ajax grinned.

"By who?"

"By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you."

My mouth fell open.

"I'm guessing that's news to you?" Astoria glanced over at Percy, who nodded.

"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 forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, 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!"

The demigods winced, but Leo laughed. "That's Perseus Jackson for you, insulting the gods since 2005."

"You should slap that on a tee shirt," Thalia suggested.

"Yes! Absolutely. You said it yourself Percy - you are impertinent," Grover reminded him.

"Slap 'we are impertinent' on the back," Annabeth added, to laughed.

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.

"Not telling him not to insult the gods, just suggesting a better way to do it," clarisse laughed.

"Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam. . . ." He looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember question thirty-eight.

"He does," Annabeth sighed.

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.

"And yet you sold lollies illegally out of your dorm room without being caught," Clarisse pointed out.

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."

"Because he wanted him to be a better person? Reasonable," Angelina shrugged.

"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! Why is Zeus mad at me!?"

"Not any more, lost my child hood ever since the trip to the museum," Percy sighed.

"You were born, Percy," Grover cut in.

The hall burst into laughter. "Wow Grover."

"and 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 he took after World War II, 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?"

"They wear togas still?" a Ravenclaw laughed.

"Nope."

"But I didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?"

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."

"As if anyone could stop Zeus's temper. And as if Hera would do sh*t," Annabeth growled.

"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 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."

"So very very bad," Ron summarized.

"Yes Ronald," Hermione sighed.

"Bad," I repeated.

"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

"Because you were born," Grover reiterated, and Percy laughed.

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.

Percy scowled, "There was absolutely no reason for him to do that, it was dramatic." He huffed out.

I was furious. "So I have to find the stupid bolt," I said. "And return it to Zeus."

"You meanone of the most powerful weapons in the world to your melodramatic dictator uncle?" Ginny summarized.

"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."

"Because that would be easy," Thena sighed.

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. A quest isn't a quest until she says so," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

"Great, that's not concerning in the slightest,"

"It's better than Octavian," Reyna mimed vomiting.

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 sayingITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS.One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things—severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. 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.

"I prefer Trelawney," Hermione decided.

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.

" Hi. I'm Percy. It's nice to meet you. I was told a quest isn't a quest until you've said so? Which is weird considering you're a Halloween decoration," I mumbled.

The hall burst into laughter. "Seriously Perce?" Grover laughed.

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.

"That is something Percy would say," George figured.

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 my demonic math teacher Mrs. Dodds 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.

"What is my destiny?" I summoned up my courage to ask

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.

"f*ck off Gabe," Percy scowled.

My fists clenched, though I knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist. "Come on, really?"

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

Fred stood up. "We are taking bets on who it is, because it's never the one you suspect!" he said. Kids began talking to them about who they suspect.

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

"Oh, well, that's good then," Lavender commented.

The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

Finally, Eddie, our building super, delivered the worst line of all: And you shall fail tosave a loyal friend in the end

Artemis frowns. "That's - is that?" she looked at Percy, who nodded solemnly.

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? Who 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 prefer Rachel," Percy sighed.

"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 . . . 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.

Nico threw his hands in the air. "Always Hades. They always suspect Hades!"

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 someone who cared about me . 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 hate prophecies," Harry grumbled.

"I know right! They are so annoyingly vague," Percy sighed. "Like just tell who's gonna die and what's going to happen."

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.

"Or someone who just wants a war," Percy grumbled.

"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."

"Dude, the mortals are going to die anyway. It wouldn't really matter to Hades, he's perfectly content ignoring all the drama up here," Nico told them.

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."

"Wow Chiron. That's really rude of you," Hazel shook her head.

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Why was the Fury there if you're all sure it wasn't Hades who stole the bolt?" Hermione asked.

"Well it's because -"

Percy was interrupted by Piper covering his mouth. "Don't do a Tom Holland! No spoilers Percy!" she ordered.

"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon. . . ."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest."

"Great," I muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me."

"Hera, Zeus, Hades once, Ares, Athena, you really know how to make enemies Seaweed Brain," Annabeth counted.

"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. Hades had tried to kill me three times so far, with the Fury, the Minotaur, and the hellhound.

"Technically that was Luke," Clarisse corrected.

It was his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he was trying to frame me and my dad 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.

"Where did that mentality go when we were on the beach?" Annabeth asked, and Grover raised an eyebrow.

"What happened on the beach?" Leo asked.

"I fought Ares and won, but that is neither here nor there," Percy waved his hand.

"You fought Ares. The God of War and won!?! What are you made of?" Leo asked.

"Seaweed and stupidity," Annabeth told the fire boy.

Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards 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 lose a loyal friend? This was suicide.

"And yet no one died by pure luck," Grover sighed.

"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?"

"Because they're lazy?" Percy shrugged.

"Except for the best goddess out there, Artemis," Ajax said.

"How come Artemis is the best goddess?" Hermione asked.

Ajax leaned forward. "Easy. All of the other gods get married, inevitably cheat, have kids, and shove all of their responsibilities and rivalries onto them. Artemis refuses to have kids and made an immortal girl gang to go fight monsters," he said.

"That is a really good point," Piper nodded. "Artemis is my favourite now."

"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 r esentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve 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. 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.

"Story of Percy's life - fight now, worry later," Annabeth rolled her eyes.

After all, I was holding back information too.

"So let me get this straight," I said. "I'm supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"God."

"Check," Chiron said.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"One of, not the most," Hermione corrected automatically.

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"Sounds easy when you put it like that," Ron figured.

"Percy makes everything look easy," Frank told him.

"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 that satyrs and underground places . . . well . . ."

"I lost that phobia veeery quickly," Grover said.

He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If . . . 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.

Grover and Percy high-fived.

"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 in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

"Obviously," Piper rolled her eyes.

"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."

"By that logic, Jason, Thalia, Nico and Hazel shouldn't be allowed to go in the water or walk on land," Hermione pointed out.

"It's just our resident drama queen Zeus," Percy told her.

Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed. "Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron said. "Three companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other two have already volunteered, if you will accept their help."

"That's stupid," Ernie commented.

"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."

"So you're saying you two can't be besties because your parents who abandoned you and never cared don't like each other," Daphne summarized.

Annabeth nodded. "My mother despises Percy," she told them.

"If you do say so yourself," I said. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth was, I did. I needed all the help I could get.

I heard a laugh and turned to see Artemis leaning against the wall. "This is going to be fun," she smirked.

"Yes, I thoroughly enjoyed that quest," Artemis sighed.

"That'll work," I said

"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 never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."

"Next chapter -I ruin a perfectly good bus," Astoria read.

Chapter 12: PJO 1 - I Ruin A Perfectly Good Bus

Chapter Text

"Well that's just rude," Ajax teased. "Now why would you do that Aquaman?"

Percy sighed. "I didn't mean to!"

It didn't take me long to pack. I decided to leave the Minotaur horn in my cabin.

"Good idea," Thena said.

- which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

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 the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold.

"Of course not," Hannah Abbott said.

Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth, Artemis and me -

"And I," Hermione corrected automatically. "Sorry, continue."

- 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 god 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.

"Is this usual for a quest?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, but it didn't really matter, most of it got blown up in the first hour," Percy rolled his eyes.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. 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.

"You really should have let him watch the orientation video," Clarisse sighed.

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.

"Hey!"

"Dude, you were hopeless and you know it," Percy told him.

Grover turned to Ajax, Annabeth, Clarisse, Thena, Thalia and Artemis, all who avoided his eye contact. "Well I feel very ganged up on," he shook his head.

And Artemis just winked when I asked her. I took that to mean things she wasn't supposed to have. She wore a short-sleeve knee-length black dress with an unknown number of hidden weapons, and her usual bronze daggers tucked in her leather boots.

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.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Thalia frowned. "'Thalia, daughter of Zeus', I should start referring to you as Seaweed Brain, son of Barnacle Beard."

"I dunno," Percy shrugged.

"And why did you have to bring me into this?" Thalia sighed.

Percy smirked. "How could I ever leave out the fearless kid who sacrificed herself at my very age?" he mocked.

Thalia snorted. "WhateverSeaweed, I was a hero," she stuck out her tongue.

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.

"Surfer dude, I'm telling Argus you were calling him that," Grover said.

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, face and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron told me. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

"Hilarious," Ginny said bluntly.

I heard footsteps behind us. Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around. Artemis snorted, and Annabeth elbowed her.

"How are you so observant and oblivious at the same time?" Thalia asked.

"What?" Percy frowned.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told me. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal.

"Why would you smell them ...?" Harry frowned.

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.

"Cool," Dean said.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days. . . ." His expression turned sad.

"He gave away a gift from a god?" Reyna raised her eyebrows.

"Hermes and Luke . . . didn't get along," Annabeth summed up.

I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. I'd been afraid he might resent me for getting so much attention the last few days. But here he was giving me a magic gift. . . . It made me blush almost as much as Annabeth.

"Percy . . . was Luke your awakening?" Piper asked.

Percy frowned. "What?"

"From the last three chapters it really seems like Luke was your gay awakening, Seaweed," Thalia teased.

Percy blinked. "I'm not - no."

Jason looked pointedly at Nico, who was very red. "Did you know gods can have children from same-sex relationships," he said as a distraction.

"Really?" Hermione looked very interested by this.

"Why don't we get back to this later?" Annabeth suggested.

"Hey, man," I said. "Thanks."

"Listen, Percy . . ." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just . . . kill some monsters for me, okay?"

We shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.

Annabeth went pink. "Shut up, I was not," she grumbled.

After Luke was gone, I told her, "You're hyperventilating."

"Am not."

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"

Clarisse covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. "Oh my gods you did!" she gasped.

Annabeth glared at Percy. "This is all your fault Jackson," she huffed.

"How is this my fault? And I'm going through just the same sh*t you did! I just found out I apparently liked Luke as a kid!" Percy exclaimed.

Draco snorted. "Love triangle," he said, and the demigods choked on laughter.

"We werenotin a love triangle!" Annabeth exclaimed.

"Oh . . . why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?" She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys.

"And so it begins!" Ajax declared.

"What begins?" Daphne asked.

"Percabeth," Artemis grinned.

I picked up the flying shoes and had a sudden bad feeling. I looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

"Honestly, Zeus issucha drama queen. Poseidon and Hades never try to kill their nephews when they get in their space," Percy said.

He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air . . . that would not be wise for you."

I nodded, disappointed. "Can I use them?" Artemis asked.I shrugged, handing them over. Pretty soon she'd laced the sneakers over her feet. "Maia!" she shouted.

Artemis frowned. "Is that how -"

"Yup," Annabeth nodded.

She got off the ground, floating for a few seconds. "Maia," she repeated, and fell back down to the grass. Artemis grinned, running down to the van with Grover.

Before I could follow, Chiron caught my arm. "I should have trained you better, Percy," he said. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just wish—"

I stopped myself because I was about to sound like a brat. I was wishing my dad had given me a cool magic item to help on the quest, something as good as Luke's flying shoes, or Annabeth's invisible cap.

"Don't complain - you, Hazel and Nico have the best dads," Thalia said. "How did we get stuck with the worst one of the Big Three?" she looked at Jason.

"Yeah, your dad sucks," Nico agreed. "He killed my mum."

Jason choked. "What?"

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cried. "I can't let you get away without this."

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to me. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents.

"A lot more than that," Percy shook his head.

"Gee," I said. "Thanks."

"Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one."

"So you get a gift from your dad and a great big prophecy?" Ajax checked. "Hey - you're twins with Harry!"

"Except you get to meet your parents and you had a decent childhood," Harry corrected.

I remembered the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I'd vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be . . . ?

I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in my hand.

"Can I see?" Dennis Creevey asked.

Percy uncapped riptide, to gasps of awe and shock. "Coool," Ginny breathed.

"The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told me. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Rest in peace Zoe," Thalia mourned.

"Who?" Hermione frowned.

"Zoe Nightshade was a Hunter of Artemis. She was the one who made Percy's sword," Annabeth explained.

"Hunters of Artemis are a group of maidens who swear to never date and therefore do not age and can only die in battle. Zoe was over two thousand years old when she died, and Thalia took over as Artemis's Lieutenant," Draco said.

"'Riptide,'" I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.

"Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."

I looked at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Have you ever tried?" Astoria asked.

"I accidentally did, but Rachel was a mortal so it's fine. She's our Oracle now - or she was," Percy shrugged.

"The sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill. And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Great," Ajax said dully.

"Good to know."

"Now recap the pen."

I touched the pen cap to the sword tip and instantly Riptide shrank to a ballpoint pen again. I tucked it in my pocket, a little nervous, because I was famous for losing pens at school.

"Can it be used as a pen as well?" Leo asked curiously.

Percy nodded. "Yeah, that's how I sent that message to Rachel when we were in Tartarus."

"You can't," Chiron said.

"Can't what?"

"Lose the pen," he said. "It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your pocket. Try it."

"Really? I just assumed you went back and collected it every time," Artemis said.

"Aren't you on this quest?" Hermione frowned. "And how come we never met you until now if you're a witch?"

Artemis ran a hand through her hair. "You'll see."

I was wary, but I threw the pen as far as I could down the hill and watched it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron told me. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen was there.

"That's so lucky! If only wands did that," Fred pouted.

"Okay, that's extremely cool," I admitted. "But what if a mortal sees me pulling out a sword?"

Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?"

"He doesn't even know about the mist," Reyna sighed.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality."

"I think Chiron just wanted you to fail. No observation video, didn't teach you how to control the mist or see through it, he didn't let you know about the prophecy until like the week before you were sixteen," Clarisse shook her head.

I put Riptide back in my pocket.

For the first time, the quest felt real. I was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill. I was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone. (Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare.) I had no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Pessimistic much," Draco commented.

"Chiron . . ." I said. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Did you pay attention at all to Chiron's lessons?" Grover sighed.

"No," Percy answered.

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like . . . before the gods?"

"Dark."

"Creepy."

"Tartarus every day."

Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So . . . even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?"

"He is understandably upset. Artemis, Annabeth and Luke were in camp for years before their quests, but Percy's only been in camp for like two weeks," Clarisse admitted.

Chiron gave me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, Percy. The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny . . . assuming we know what that is."

"Chiron obviously does, he just doesn't feel like telling you. Reminds me of someone else," Harry stared directly at Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"Relax," Chiron told me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"No pressure," Percy joked.

"Relax," I said. "I'm very relaxed."

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 standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur.

"Stop bringing me up," Thalia sighed. "Just say under the pine tree. Is it really that hard?"

"Just trying to pay the respect you deserve," Percy teased.

"Why can't you just say Thalia then? Or Thalia Grace? Stop bringing him into this!" Thalia said.

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," I told myself. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

"That's as bad as saying 'it couldn't possibly get worse' or 'be right back'," Leo said.

Annabeth gave me an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

Leo made kissy noises and Annabeth smacked him over the head.

"Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look . . . we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"The parents who abandoned you and treat you like servants?" Pansy checked.

"Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives."

"Percy!" Thena covered her mouth laughing.

"Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."

"I said, forget it!"

"Lovers quarrel," Piper stage-whispered to her boyfriend who laughed.

Artemis turned from her seat next to Argus. "The parents who abandoned you don't like each other, so you're not allowed?" she checked. Annabeth just shot her a look. In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me.

Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain.

"Never a good sign," Reyna said.

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 flyer with my picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY? I ripped it down before the others could notice.

"We noticed," Grover told him. "Just didn't feel like saying anything."

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.

"Stupid Gabe, he totally deserved that do-it-yourself statue kit," Percy huffed.

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?"

"Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

"Satyrs can do that?" Hagrid looked interested.

I nodded, wondering what else Grover might've forgotten to tell me.

"Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover told me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura. . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week."

"Eww," Ron shuddered.

"Thanks," I said. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

"Slay Sally."

It didn't, but I forced myself not to show it. I'll see her again, I thought. She isn't gone.

I wondered if Grover could still read my emotions, mixed up as they were. I was glad he, Artemis and Annabeth were with me, but I felt guilty that I hadn't been straight with them. I hadn't told them the real reason I'd said yes to this crazy quest.

"It's pretty obvious," Artemis told him. "We'd probably figured it out."

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.

"Hey you got a good one, stop complaining," Annabeth said.

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

"You never change - he was like this on our quest too," Thalia said.

"Really?" Annabeth looked confused.

"I snuck on their quest because they were trying to get - mostly Artemis - but also you back, even though I wasn't allowed," Percy explained.

"Of course you did."

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend,the Oracle whispered in my mind.And you shall fail to save a loyal friend in the end

"Who was the friend?" Ginny asked.

"Spoiler!" Artemis said.

"But you're all still here!"

"Doesn't matter."

Shut up, I told it.

The rain kept coming down. We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever.

"Go Annabeth!" Thena applauded.

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.

The hall cracked up laughing.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but Annabeth, Artemis and I were too busy cracking up.

Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy—enchiladas.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."

"It's obviously trouble," Frank said.

But I could tell it wasn't nothing. I started looking over my shoulder, too.

"Good instincts," Moody said. "CONSTANT VIGILENCE!"

"Oh my gods," Piper screamed into Draco's shoulder.

I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh. Artemis was looking behind her, hands flickering with undirected magic.

"What can you do exactly?" Hermione asked Artemis curiously.

"Well I have immunity to the Mist and enchantments. I can apparate through barriers like the no-apparition wards around Hogwarts. My mist capabilities are nothing compared to Hazel, and if I'd gone to a wizarding school I would've been really powerful," Artemis shrugged.

As the last passengers got on, Artemis clamped her hand onto my shoulder. "Percy."

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and my heart skipped a beat.

"He recognizes, that's not good," Ajax muttered.

It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face. I scrunched down in my seat.

Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.

"All three of them!" Reyna gaped. "You have horrible luck."

"You have my luck," Thalia corrected.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

"That's fun," Leo commented.

The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," I said, trying to keep my voice from quivering. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not."

"Getting flashbacks to the old times," Thalia joked.

"All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moaned.

"Break the windows!" the logic-filled muggleborns exclaimed.

"We didn't think of that!" Annabeth, Percy and Grover exclaimed.

"A back exit?" she suggested. There wasn't one.

"Worse bus ever," Percy summed.

Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I said. "Will they?"

"You really should've watched the video," Clarisse sighed.

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Artemis reminded me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

"Not if your Percy. The mist hates you," Grover said.

Annabeth thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I," said the third sister. They all started coming down the aisle.

"Oh sh*t sh*t sh*t you're all going to die," a Hufflepuff cussed

"Great observation," another one said flatly.

"I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?"

"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"The sacrifices they make for love," Lavender said.

Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were proud Percabeth shippers.

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Artemis told me. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"Yeah Kelp Head, you stink," Nico said.

"You're one to talk Death Breath!" Percy shot back.

"Kelp Head's my nickname for him, get your own!" Thalia told Nico.

"Well you left it for sale when you joined the Hunt, Sparky," Nico told her. When Thalia moved towards him, he threatened, "take another step and I'll set Jules-Albert on you."

"Who?" Thalia frowned.

"My zombie bodyguard. My dad gave him to me," Nico said. Thalia blinked. "He's French."

"I can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover said. "Go!"

My hands trembled. I felt like a coward, but I took the Yankees cap and put it on. When I looked down, my body wasn't there anymore.

"You had to check?" Annabeth looked insulted.

"Hey, your mum hates my guts and my dad's guts. There was no guarantee it would actually work," Percy reminded her.

I started creeping up the aisle. I managed to get up ten rows, then duck into an empty seat just as the Furies walked past. Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at me. My heart was pounding.

Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going.

I was free. I made it to the front of the bus. We were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel now. I was about to press the emergency stop button when I heard hideous wailing from the back row.

The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

"Lovely," Luna said.

The Furies surrounded Artemis, Grover and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

"Where?" a Ravenclaw sat up. "Not who?"

The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right.

"I really wish I could see what they saw," Percy said wistfully. "Mortals see some weird things."

"Like what?" Lee Jordan asked curiously.

"My poodle," Percy shrugged. "My poodle that was actually a my pet hellhound called Mrs O'Leary."

Hagrid looked excited.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!"

The Furies raised their whips. Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Artemis pulled her bronze daggers out of her boots. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

"You already are," Annabeth told him. "Mr I'm-going-to-jump-into-Tartarus, Mr. I-sent-Medusa's-head-to-Olympus, Mr. I-took-a-bath-in-the-river-Styx, Mr I-fought-Ares, Mr -"

"We get it!" Percy exclaimed. "I'm impertinent!"

The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror.

Still invisible, I grabbed the wheel from him and jerked it to the left. Everybody howled as they were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows.

"No, it was us," Annabeth huffed.

"Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

We wrestled for the wheel. The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us.

We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river.

"That's not good," Harry winced.

"It would've been better - Percy would've had the upper hand and been able to heal," Hermione pointed out.

Another great idea: I hit the emergency brake.

"See that was at least a half decent idea," Annabeth nodded. "Progress."

The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. I stepped into the driver's seat and let them pass.

The Furies regained their balance. Two of them lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. Artemis was fighting the third viciously, yelling in Ancient Greek. One of the Furies threw her at the bus window, and she crashed through it onto the road below.

Artemis winced.

I looked at the open doorway. I was free to go, but I couldn't leave my friends. I took off the invisible cap. "Hey!"

"Oh my gods Percy," Draco buried his head in his hands. "We can't leave you alone for two minutes!"

The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at me, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle, just as she used to do in class, about to deliver my F– math test.

Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather. Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward me like huge nasty lizards.

"Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

"How many gods have you offended?" Hazel asked.

"Let's see - Zeus at this point, Hades at this point, but that was a misunderstanding. Ares obviously. Athena despised me, Hera was a little bitch -" Percy pulled the finger at the sky. "-to me and Jason, Dionysus purposely gets my name wrong and wanted to turn me into a dolphin. And that's just off the top of my head."

Hazel looked scared for Percy's mental and physical wellbeing.

"I liked you better as a math teacher," I told her. She growled.

"Stop insulting major monsters!" Thena told him.

"Never gonna happen," Percy scoffed.

Annabeth and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening.

I took the ballpoint pen out of my pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword.

The Furies hesitated. Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again. "Submit now," she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

"I jumped into Tartarus voluntarily, like I think eternal torment begun at that museum," Percy said.

"Nice try," I told her.

"Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried.

Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at me.

"Percy is gonna tear them apart," Leo predicted.

My hand felt like it was wrapped in molten lead, but I managed not to drop Riptide. I stuck the Fury on the left with its hilt, sending her toppling backward into a seat. I turned and sliced the Fury on the right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust.

"That's one," Hermione counted.

Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands. "Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

The Fury I'd hilt-slammed came at me again, talons ready, but I swung Riptide and she broke open like a piñata.

"Two!" Leo cheered.

Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

"I don't have one," Percy said, and Nico snorted.

"Braccas meas vescimini!" I yelled. I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!"

"Natural talent," Jason shook his head.

Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

"Spidey sense," Piper whispered to Leo.

"Get out!" Annabeth yelled at me. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement.

We rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, crowding around Artemis, who was bleeding on the ground, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could recap my sword.

"And so it begins. The Percy Jackson cultist-slash-terrorist rampage," Grover sighed.

"I'm totally making demigod-safe technology and googling your name Percy," Leo said. "There's probably some true crime podcast."

Annabeth dashed over to Artemis, who was spooning ambrosia into her mouth and the two ran back over to Grover and me.

"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.

"Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

"Really? We were just gonna have a tea party while we waited for Hades to show up," Percy said sarcastically.

We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.

Chapter 13: PJO 1 - We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium

Chapter Text

"We visit the Garden Gnome Emporium," Astoria read.

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there because you have somebody to blamewhen things go wrong.

Frank laughed. "Yes, that is the best thing about the existence of gods," he said sarcastically.

For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day.

"Usually Hera-slash-Juno," Leo glared.

So there we were, Annabeth, Artemis and Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses.

"Ew," Draco wrinkled his nose.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "ThreeKindly Ones. All three at once."

I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."

"All our money was back there," I reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

"Not all, Artemis was smart enough to keep stuff on her," Thena corrected.

"Almo-"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"Seriously!?"

"What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"

"Yeah Annabe-"

"You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine."

"No you wouldn't have," Piper told her.

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

"Shut up, goat boy," said Annabeth.

"Oh so he gets to talk," Artemis huffed.

"justice for emi," Leo said.

Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans . . . a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to me. "Look, I . . ." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave."

"Annabeth swallowing her pride, that's a thing you don't see ever," Ajax said.

"We're a team, right?"

She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died . . . aside from the fact that it wouldreally suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."

"You haven't left since you were seven?" Ginny frowned.

"It's complicated," Annabeth told her.

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost totaldarkness. 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."

"he remembered."

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She wasrushing 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."

If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said.

"You think so?"

"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

"Awww," Piper teased.

I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled.

"You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you . . . Something funny back on the bus . . ."

Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured.

Grover's jaw dropped and Percy hid behind Hazel. "Hazel use your mist magic," he hissed. "Hide me."

"Not a chance," Hazel shook her head.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, wecould get out of these woods!"

"What songs do you know?" Luna asked.

"Consensus," Grover said. When the others looked confused, Coach Hedge started playing on his reed pipes, and Grover started the Consensus song.

"Oh, golly, the road’s gettin’ bumpy 'cause I got me some friends
Who just can’t get along
Oh, dear! When the team’s gettin’ grumpy
The trick to gettin’ through it is singin’ this song..."

"What are you doing?" Ajax asked.

"It’s the consensus song. Verse two encourages us to say nice things about each other. You get a few rounds in and you’d be amazed at how disagreements just kind of fade away," Grover shrugged.

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.

The hall burst into laughter.

Add to the list of superpowers I did not have: infrared vision.

Artemis looked between Annabeth and me with a strange smile on her face. I was confused as to why.

"Are you sure you're not a blonde?" Piper asked.

"What?" Percy frowned.

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to seelight 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-prepared barbecue. This boy needed a double cheeseburger.

Piper and Artemis looked disgusted.

"You've insulted the vegetarians - good job Percy," Leo shook his head.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was aclosed-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.

"Is that what dyslexia is like?" Hermione asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," Draco nodded. Hermione, Harry and Ron were surprised at the lack of insult.

"What the heck does that say?" I asked.

"I don't know," Annabeth said. She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too.

Grover translated: "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.

"Oh no," Artemis's eyes widened.

"What?" George asked.

"Aunty "Em" has a garden full of petrified stone folks," Artemis explained, and the other demigods sucked in a breath.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. "Hey . . ." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," I said wistfully.

"Snack bar," she agreed.

"The Dam Snack Bar," Thalia said, and Thalia, Grover and Percy dissolved into giggles.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."

Artemis looked from Grover to the gate, biting her lip nervously. "I think you two should listen to Grover."

"Why weren't you affected?" Ginny asked.

"I'm a daughter of the goddess who's whole thing is enchantment. You develop a sort of immunity," Artemis told her.

We ignored them. 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!"

Grover looked upset.

We stopped at the warehouse door. "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't youhungry?"

Annabeth winced. "Sorry Grover."

"Annabeth, you know I'm a vegetarian, and that's not the point," Artemis tried. "Try and think!"

"I am thinking. About meat," Annabeth looked like she was about to drool

"Meat!" Grover said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," I reminded him.

"Those are vegetables."

"Obviously," Fred confirmed.

"Come on. Let's leave. These statues are . . . looking at me."

"Like paintings," Hazel shuddered.

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. 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.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out allalone. Where are your parents?"

"They're . . . um . . ." Annabeth started to say.

"We're orphans," I said.

"Did Percy just come up with a good lie?" Piper frowned.

"Wait for it," Annabeth held up a hand.

"Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"We got separated from our caravan," I said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meethim at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station."

"And there it is," Piper sighed. "f*cking gods Percy!"

"Hey - Leo's the one dating a goddess, not me!" Percy held up his hands.

"Percy oh my f-" Annabeth screamed into her hands.

"Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straightthrough to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

Artemis looked nervously around, and seemed reluctant to come inside, but Annabeth dragged her in after thanking Aunty Em. " Circus caravan?" Annabeth muttered to me.

"Always have a strategy, right?"

"That's not strategy," Frank shook his head.

"Your head is full of kelp."

Thalia nodded. "Thank you!"

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all differentoutfits 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.

"Ohh!" Hermione covered her mouth. "She's -"

"What have we said about spoilers?" Annabeth interrupted.

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.

"How did you notice that?" Leo asked. "You're spelled!"

"It's Percy," Frank reminded him.

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

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.

"Awesome," I said.

"Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."

Before I could jab him in the ribs, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a specialcase, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

"That's not concerning to you?" Clarisse asked.

"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, so I figured it must've been my imagination.

"Just like Mrs Dodds was?" Clarisse teased.

"Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child." Only later did Iwonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves.

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 hestill looked too nervous to eat. Artemis didn't touch the food, tapping her foot nervously, and thrumming the hair tie on her wrist against her skin.

"You really should've listened to the satyr that can smell monsters and the girl who can't be enchanted and can see through the mist," Draco said.

"What's that hissing noise?" Grover asked. I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. Artemis didn't look up, squeezing her eyes shut and mouthing indistinguishable words.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"Really? I wonder why," Ajax said flatly.

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"See - that's a lie. That's how you lie, Percy," Thalia said pointedly.

"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 wit h our hostess.

"How kind of you," Annabeth said sourly.

"So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders.Statuary is very popular, you know."

"Oh I know," Percy smirked. "So does my stepfather Smelly Gabe."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built . . . most cars, they do not go this way now. I mustcherish every customer I get."

"You really show your kindness," Ginny said bluntly.

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"I wonder why. That wasn't concerning for you?" Clarisse said sarcastically.

"I was twelve!" Percy defended.

"And you fought my father!" Clarisse argued back.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself ?" I asked.

"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 mycompany." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

"Ohh," a group of Ravenclaws figured it out.

"What?" Ron asked.

"You'll see," Hermione told him. "No spoilers."

Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?" Artemis stopped fiddling with the hair tie and opened her eyes, exchanging a look with Annabeth.

"It's aboutdamtime the brains of the operation started working," Thalia said.

"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 . . . a boyfriend, 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."

"That isn't what happened," Thena rolled her eyes.

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I felt bad for her. My eyelids kept getting heavier, my full stomach making me sleepy. Poor old lady. Who would want to hurt somebody so nice?

"Nice?" Draco scoffed.

"Percy?" Annabeth was shaking me to get my attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting."

She sounded tense. I wasn't sure why.

"Maybe because we were about to become statues?" Artemis suggested.

Percy felt horrible for almost getting his friends killed. If only he had been able to throw off Medusa’s enchantment. Maybe they wouldn’t have gotten in the situation they had been in.

Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but ifAunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.

"Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time sinceI've seen gray eyes like those."

She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go."

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"

I didn't want to leave. I felt full and content. Aunty Em was so nice. I wanted to stay with her awhile.

"That's one strong spell," Hermione noted.

"She probably figured Annabeth knew and was directing it all towards Percy," Artemis told her.

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyoneloves children."

"Oh that is so wrong," Fred shuddered, having figured it out.

Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—"

"Sure we can," I said. I was irritated with Annabeth for being so bossy, so rude to an old lady who'd just fed us for free. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"

"It's just a photo Annabeth. What's the harm," Annabeth mocked, smacking her boyfriend. "Idiot."

"Yes, Annabeth," the woman purred. "No harm."

I could tell Annabeth didn't like it, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door,into the garden of statues.

"I don't think we should, Percy, what about the circus. They're relying on us,remember?" Artemis hissed, her fingers sparkling with magic.

"What were you doing?" Astoria looked up to ask.

"I was trying to remove the enchantment," Artemis told her. "I figured out how to do it a few years ago thanks to Rey, but not back then."

Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

Artemis didn't move. "I'm sorry Miss, but I can't - "

"Not much light for a photo," I remarked, interrupting Artemis's sentence.

"I was just about to get us out of this situation, come on Perce," Artemis shook her head.

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

"Come on Groves, you knew who she was!" Thalia urged.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like UncleFerdinand."

Grover looked sad at the mention of his frozen uncle.

"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands.

"Percy—" Annabeth said.

Some instinct warned me to listen to Annabeth, but I was fighting the sleepy feeling, the comfortable lull that came from the food and the old lady's voice.

"That's when you learned to always listen to me?" Annabeth said.

"I listened to you about the sirens," Percy shot back.

"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil. .. ."

"Percy, something's wrong," Annabeth insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo th e wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I havesuch noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"Oh no," Dean whispered, having figured out who she was.

"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Poor Grover," Parvati whispered.

"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and me both off the bench.

I was on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet. I could hear Artemis and Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. But I was too dazed to move.

"She must have really been pouring the spell for you to react like this," Jason said.

"It took him quite a bit to snap out of it," Annabeth agreed.

Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which hadturned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.

"Eww," Lavender recoiled.

I almost looked higher, but somewhere off to my left Annabeth screamed, "No! Don't!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from . . . from about where Aunty Em'shead would be.

"Ohhhh," Justin figured it out, a horrified look on his face.

"Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel.

"Maia!" Artemis shouted, kick-starting her sneakers

I couldn't move. I stared at Aunty Em's gnarled claws, and tried to fight the groggy trance the oldwoman had put me in.

"Couldn't you hypothetically remove her curse?" Piper asked Artemis, who shrugged. "We might need the do-it-yourself statue kit again."

"Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told me soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

I fought the urge to obey. Instead I looked to one side and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents.

Astoria shuddered before continuing.

Aunty Em. Aunty "M."

How could I have been so stupid? Think, I told myself. How did Medusa die in the myth?

"Who's Medusa?" Ron asked.

"She can turn people to stone through eye contact," Hermione said.

But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she wasattacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face.

"Has Percy just fought every monster in Greek mythology?" Leo asked.

Percy laughed. "I would tell you how Zoe died, but Jason would feel inferior and also spoilers."

"Oh now I'm curious. Damn you Percy!" Leo groaned.

"The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like amonster. 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."

"Stupid enchantment."

"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Run, Percy!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why Imust destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."

"No," I muttered. I tried to make my legs move.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

"Why did you tell him about being a pawn?" Annabeth groaned. "You encouraged him to do that!"

"Percy!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Artemis yelled, "Duck!"

I turned, and there she was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with her winged shoes fluttering, Artemis, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. Her eyes were shut tight, and she was tied back-to-back with Grover, who was navigating by ears and nose alone.

"That's smart," Michael Corner nodded.

"Duck!" Grover yelled. I dove to one side.

Thwack!

Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable demigod," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

"Yeah! Go Grovmis!" Leo applauded.

I scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover-Artemis swooped down for another pass.

Ker-whack!

"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.

Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Percy!"

"I hate it when you do that," Percy shook his head.

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. "You have to cut her head off."

"What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."

"Annabeth is logical, Percy's the crazy one," Frank said.

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but . . ." Annabeth swallowed, as if she wereabout to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance."

"What? I can't—"

"Annabeth just admitted someone was better - come on Prissy!" Clarisse shouted.

"Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster.

"Guilt trip," Ginny respectfully nodded.

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—"

"What?"

"Would you speak English?"

"I am!" She tossed me the glass ball.

"No you're not," Percy disagreed.

"What do you mean? I understood everything," Hermione said.

"You can't speak English either," Ron told her.

"Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."

"Well I was just going to go have a staring contest," Percy said sarcastically.

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled from somewhere above. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Doubt it."

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Knew it."

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. Him and Artemis went in for another pass with the tree branch.

"Hurry," Annabeth told me. "Grover and Artemis will eventually crash."

"Loving your faith in us," Grover said.

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 would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her.

Artemis was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time she flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled them off course. The two tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

"Ooh," the hall winced.

Medusa was about to lunge at Artemis and Grover 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 ahard 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 thegazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse.

"Nope," Annabeth said. "She's really that ugly.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't."

I hesitated, fascinated by the face I saw reflected in the glass—the eyes that seemed to burn straight through the green tint, making my arms go weak.

From the cement grizzly, Grovermoaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!"

Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at me with her talons.

Everyone was hooked, looking super concerned despite the fact Percy was right there perfectly fine.

I slashed up with my sword, heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern —the sound of a monster disintegrating.

"Cool," Fred said. "We need -"

"-to get ourselves -"

"-some of those - "

"-handy swords."

Something fell to the ground next to my foot. 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.

"Ugh," a few of the students were repulsed.

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thinggurgling 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 green juice.

Piper gaged. "That's disgusting."

"Are you okay?" she asked me, her voice trembling.

"Yeah," I decided, though I felt like throwing up my double cheeseburger. "Why didn't . . . whydidn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don'tunwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Do-it-yourself statue kit - are you kidding!?" she gaped.

Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves.

"The Red Baron," I said. "Good job."

"What?" Hazel frowned.

"Oh we really need to catch you up. You, Reyna, Artemis, Thalia, Jason, Nico, pretty much everyone is behind," Annabeth said

He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, teaming up and hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."

"I thought it was a blast," Artemis shrugged.

"You don't remember the pain," Grover told her.

I recapped my sword. Together, the four of us stumbled back to the warehouse.

We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

Finally I said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

"Ugh Percy," Ajax groaned. "You never learn."

Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa wasPoseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."

"Eww, incest," Pansy said.

"Like you can talk Parkinson," another Slytherin scoffed.

My face was burning. "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa."

Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth.What's the harm?'"

Leo laughed at Percy's lecture. "Go Annabeth!"

"Forget it," I said. "You're impossible."

"You're insufferable."

"You're—"

"Hey!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines.What are we going to do with the head?"

"Good job Groves, get us back on track," Artemis nodded.

I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed onthe side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!

I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice.

"Yeah, screw the gods," Leo agreed.

What had Medusa said?Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue.

"Oh no," Artemis laughed. "He's gonna do something."

I got up. "I'll be back."

"Percy," 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 the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden.

"Oh no," Piper figured it out.

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.

"Good, using your sense," Reyna approved.

In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. I rummaged around the rest of the office until I found the right-size box.

Clarisse gasped, having figured out his plan. "My respect for you just doubled," she said. "And that's saying a lot considering it's very little."

I went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip:

The Gods
Mount Olympus
600th Floor,
Empire State Building
New York, NY

With best wishes,
PERCY JACKSON

The hall gaped. "Oh my gods Percy! I love you," Leo laughed.

"Percy, you can’t ship Medusa’s head to Olympus!" Artemis was struggling not laughing.

"Why not?" Percy asked.

"Because the gods won’t like it. At all. "At all" at all," Annabeth told him.

"Why? That’s what you do with dangerous stuff. Like batteries, you just send 'em back where they came from," Percy figured.

"That's not a freaking battery!" Artemis exclaimed. Leo and Ajax were cracking up beside her.

"That's Medusa's head, not a freaking battery!" Artemis exclaimed. "Okay. Look, this is a bad idea."

"They're not going to like this," 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.

"Yes you are," Draco nodded.

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.

"I pretty much gave up internally after that," Annabeth agreed.

"Come on," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

"Okay, who wants to read next?" Astoria asked.

"I will," Ginny took the book off her. "We get advice from a poodle."

"Very funny Ginny," Ron told her.

"I'm not kidding," Ginny said.

Chapter 14: PJO 1 - We Get Advice From A Poodle

Chapter Text

"A poodle? Really?" Artemis questioned.

"I don't really get it either," Percy shrugged.

"Everyone shut up so I can read!" Ginny ordered. "We get advice from a poodle.

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.

Grover and Coach Hedge looked repulsed.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and 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.

"That lasted two minutes,"

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Artemisfluttered with her flying shoes and a blanket to the lowest bough of a tree, put her back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky. Grover lay on the ground in the same position.

"I donotsnore," Annabeth folded her arms.

"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 on the ground. "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."

"What's wrong with that?"

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."

"Pam? Like the cooking spray?"

"Oh my - Percy!" Annabeth groaned.

"Don't talk," Piper ordered Coach Hedge, who'd opened his mouth to yell at Percy.

"Pan!" he cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher'slicense for?"

"What's a searcher's license?" Ginny stopped to ask.

"I'll ask about it in a moment," Percy said.

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've once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known.

Grover gasped. "You felt that too!"

"Tell me about the search," I said.

Grover looked at me cautiously, as if he were afraid I was just making fun.

"I would never!" Percy huffed.

"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 nobody's found him in two thousand years?" Lavender asked.

"He was hidden very well," Grover told her.

"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."

"The first?" Neville questioned.

"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."

"He didn't have a wedding dress," Percy whispered to Grover, who glared at him.

"Not funny Percy!"

"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."

Reyna and the other Roman demigods looked surprised at the bravery and selflessness of the satyrs. The fauns at Camp Jupiter were not anything like them.

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?"

"Said the boy who challenged Ares to a fight," Draco teased.

"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."

Leo snorted. "You guys were so cute."

"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.

"It wasn't your fault Grover," Thalia told him. "I chose to stay behind."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp fiveyears. She wasn't ... I mean, your first assignment that went wrong—"

"It's strange when Percy's the one who figures stuff out," Artemis shuddered.

"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, Artemis, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems."

"Well, duh. I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took."

"Why do they always blame Hades? Zeus is the one that hates his siblings, you know? Hades just chills downstairs and does his own thing while Zeus locks anyone who glares at him on an island alone for all eternity but nooo Hades is the bad guy," Hazel scoffed.

"That's not what I mean," Grover said. "The Fur—The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. LikeMrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy ... why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they justweren't as aggressive as they could've been."

"That was holding back? They threw Artemis through a window!" Astoria said.

"They seemed plenty aggressive to me."

Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"

"Asking about me," I said.

"Not everything's about you Percaboo," Leo told him.

"Maybe ... but Artemis, Annabeth and I, we got the feeling they weren't asking about a person. Theysaid 'Where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object."

"It? The bolt, maybe?" Hermione guessed.

"Nope," Percy popped the 'p'.

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt...." He looked at me like he was hoping for answers, but I didn't have any.

"That's usual," Annabeth figured.

"I've been thinking," a voice came from above. I'd forgotten Artemis was up there. "Well, Percy didn't steal the master bolt. We didn't steal the master bolt. We're prettysure Hades has the master bolt, but he couldn't have stolen it himself. Gods can't do that.I mean, we don't even know who actually stole the thing, or why, or how deep this goes."

"It goes preeetty deep," Percy nodded.

Gred and Forge stood up and cleared their throats. "Place your bets, everyone place your bets as to who stole the bolt!"

Ginny whacked them with the book. "After the chapter idiots, there probably will be more information. Sit down and shut up."

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

"I-I haven't told you guys everything," I said, avoiding Grover's gaze. "The Oracle. She said some other things."

"About damn time," Thalia said.

I cleared my throat. "'You will go west and face the god that has turned.'"

"That's Hades," Grover said .

"Nope," Nico and Hazel said in unison.

"'You will find what has stolen and see it returned.'"

"Clearly the bolt," Artemis nodded.

"'You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, and you shall fail to save a loyal friend in the end.'"

"Who was it?" Leo asked.

"Don't you know?" Grover frowned at him

"I wasn't paying attention," Leo shrugged.

Grover and Artemis were silent. "It doesn't matter," Artemis said after a while, but she sounded choked. "Fate is complicated.It could mean a lot of things. The harder you work to understand, the harder it gets to understand. Sometimes, you've just gotta let it come to you when it's ready."

"You thought it was me," Annabeth turned to her.

"Probably. Sorry," Artemis winced.

I thought about what Medusa had said: I was being used by the gods. What lay ahead of me was worse than petrification. "There's something else," I told them. "I don't care about the master bolt. I only agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother." Grover blew a soft note on his pipes.

"We know," Annabeth, Artemis and Grover said in unison.

"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."

"He's like the only god that does," Draco sighed. "Lucky."

Grover gazed over. "Look, Percy, I'm not as smart as Annabeth. I'm not as brave as you. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done."

"Yeah? Well maybe satyr emotions work differently than human emotions. Because you're wrong. I don't care what he thinks."

"Sure you don't," Ajax nodded.

Grover sighed. "Okay, Percy. Whatever."

"Besides, I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here with no money and no way west."

"'Nothing worth bragging about'! Are you kidding me?" Hermione gaped. "What do you call the furies, minotaur, and medusa?"

"Inconvenient." He deadpanned causing many to snort and giggle.

Hermione blinked. "So you are like Harry then?"

Grover looked at the night sky, like he was thinking about that problem. "How about I take firstwatch, huh? You both get some sleep."

I wanted to protest, but he started to play Mozart, soft and sweet, and I turned away, my eyesstinging. After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep.

"Avoiding confrontation 101," Ajax nodded.

In my dreams, I stood in a dark cavern before a gaping 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.

"Stupid shoes," Annabeth shook her head.

Looking down made me dizzy. The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had afeeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.

"Good feeling," Coach Hedge said.

"You are so annoyingly descriptive Percy," Nico said.

The little hero, an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness.Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do.

"Shut up grandpa," Percy rolled his eyes.

The voice felt ancient—cold and heavy. It wrapped around me like sheets of lead.They have misled you, boy,it said. Barter with me. I will give you what you want.

"You know what I wish I'd had in that dream. A blue plastic hairbrush," Percy joked, and Ajax, Annabeth, Clarisse, Draco, Grover, Nico, Thena and Thalia burst out laughing.

A shimmering image hovered over the void: my mother, frozen at the moment she'd dissolved in a shower of gold. Her face was distorted with pain, as if the Minotaur were still squeezing her neck. Her eyes looked directly at me, pleading:Go!

I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn't work.

Cold laughter echoed from the chasm. An invisible force pulled me forward. It would drag me into the pit unless I stood firm.Help merise, boy.The voice became hungrier.Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!

"The voice wants a twelve year old?" Angelina frowned.

"Percy is crazy," Frank told her.

"I would argue but I have no defense," Percy said.

The spirits of the dead whispered around me,No! Wake!

The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around me.

I realized it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using me to pull itself out.Good, it murmured.Good.

"f*ck off Kronos," Percy groaned.

Wake!the dead whispered. Wake!

Someone was shaking me. My eyes opened, and it was daylight.

There were breaths of relief as Percy awoke.

"Well," Annabeth said, "the zombie lives."

I was trembling from the dream. I could still feel the grip of the chasm monster around my chest. " How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast." Annabeth tossed me a bag of nacho-flavored corn chipsfrom Aunty Em's snack bar. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

"Good for you G-Man," Percy commented.

My eyes hadtrouble focusing. Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturallypink stuffed animal.

No. It wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a pink poodle.

A bunch of girls squealed. "I want one!" Lavender squeaked.

The poodle yapped at me suspiciously. Grover said, "No, he's not."

I blinked. "Are you ... talking to that thing?"

"Satyrs can talk to animals?" Harry looked surprised.

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."

Piper gaped. "You guys were the ones who found Gladiola!?"

"Gladiola was yours?" Percy laughed.

I stared at Annabeth, figuring she'd crack up at this practical joke they were playing on me, but she looked deadly serious. Artemis, however, was grinning from her spot on the tree.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," I said. "Forget it."

"He's gonna say hello to the poodle," Nico guessed.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. You can say hello to the poodle." The poodle growled.

I said hello to the poodle.

"Annabeth controlling Percy is so cute," Ajax teased.

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.

"Did you mistre

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."

"Obviously," Hazel nodded.

"Of course," I said. "Silly me." Artemis snorted

"So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

I thought about my dream—the whispering voices of the dead, the thing in the chasm, and my mother's face, shimmering as it dissolved into gold. All that might be waiting for me in the West.

"Not another bus," I said warily.

"Of course not," Artemis sighed. "It would be boring to blow up a bus twice in a row."

Fred and George applauded. "Absolutely. See - she gets it," Fred nodded.

"No," Annabeth ignored Artemis's comment. 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."

"Okay, let's go to the next chapter," Ginny turned the page, but was interrupted by a flurry of green flames coming from fireplace.

Two teenagers emerged from the fire, a girl and boy. The boy had a surfer-body, shaggy curly blond hair, blue eyes, and an athletic build. He was around the age of fifteen like Nico.

The girl was tall and slim with frizzy red hair, a freckled face, and green eyes. She was seventeen, the same age as Percy and Annabeth etc.

"Who are these two?" Harry asked.

"This is Rachel Dare, our Oracle, and Will Solace, my half-brother," Draco introduced. "Rachel, Will, this is Hogwarts."

Will was looking around in awe before sitting down between Nico and Rachel.

"Can I continue now?" Ginny asked. "I Plunge to my death."