Chapter 3: Camp Half-Blood’s Welcoming Party Sucks

I’m going to take a second here to recap. 

My day at school literally went to shit. My mother thinks she’s funny (she’s not). And Olympus, the government of the Greek pantheon, has stupid rules. Oh, you’re Greek. So we Greeks rule over your Greek, and we don’t want you raised by a non-Greek god because they have cooties. Stay at the Greek camp and let your Greek parent Claim you because you’re Greek. It reminded me of one of my grandparents’ crazy neighbors.

That old guy was still butthurt Germany lost.

Greeeeeek.

And then she does Claim me and the reaction she gets is ‘Who is that?’ and ‘Well, fuck.’

Today needs to stop.

Seriously.

“Okay,” I said harshly into the silence. “I’m not familiar with how you people do things? But-”

The hung-over man stood, hands up in surrender, grumbling something. I think I heard the name ‘Chiron.’ As in that one centaur trainer dude? Back in the day, if you wanted your demigod to amount to anything, you’d have Chiron train them. Diet Coke Man rounded the table, making motions for the rest of the kids to stand and pinning anyone a bit too slow with a harsh look. He stopped a couple of feet from me and cleared his throat.

Then he knelt.

“All hail Perseus Stele, son of Ananke.” It got really quiet when her Name was spoken out loud like someone had turned the volume down on the universe. Tiger print shirt guy paled as my back straightened. I felt a smile slip onto my face. 

Mom had always been more as Ananke. It was the older, more powerful Name, and having her attention like this was rare. If I had to make a comparison, it was the difference between your Mom giving you a hug in private and your Mom giving you a hug while wearing her crown in front of the cameras. It was just different somehow. Mom was Mom, but there was something about knowing this Name had me, that made it special. 

The campers didn’t seem very happy though. Everyone looked alarmed. Their mouths were moving, but her attention crushed all of the sound. 

Diet Coke mumbled into the still air. “Protogenoi of Fate, Inevitability, and Compulsion. First of Chaos. Mother of the Moirai, of Darkness, of the Celestial Sky. The Great Serpent, Eater of the Bloody Tongues, The Ruiner, The Beautiful One, The Thousand Mirrors -.”

I had a feeling he could have kept going with those Names, but the fire in the center brazier suddenly snapped at full volume, making everyone jump. The chubby man I was beginning to suspect was a god bent over completely, forehead to the ground.

“Whoa, no!” My smile fell off my face. Some people might like having others bow before them, but I didn’t. Mom deserved that, but not me. I was just her kid. “No, no, no, no.” There was a shift in the air. My ears popped. “Mom! No.”

Noise flooded back into the pavilion as Mom lost interest.

That...stung a little.

Okay, it stung a lot.

She was...wasn’t she going to...fix...this?

She saw nothing wrong with me being here? I thought- in a year or two maybe and planned. I imagined both my parents dropping me off at camp, maybe with Cliff tagging along just to see what it was all about. The Greeks knew about the dog-headed, as long as he kept the Egyptian to himself, they wouldn’t have a clue. Dad would have loved a tour. It would be a fun couple of months and then I’d go home.

This was a test, right?

It had to be a test. 

“You can all get up,” I said uncomfortably. The camper kids didn’t look like they were ready to believe me. The lone adult did though and I smiled weakly. “So...Cabin eleven you said?”

“Ah,” the Diet Coke guy said. I followed his gaze up. The red spindle of golden thread was still hanging over my head. Just slowly spinning around.

Menacingly.

“I’ll...clear out a room at the Big House?” The spindle bobbed. He gestured towards the table he had been sitting at with a few nymphs and two boys. “And...there’s room at the table for Cabin twelve.” 

The spindle faded.

The man closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took several deep breaths. I’ll say this right now, I was pretty good at identifying gods. Mom’s drilled me on it often enough and there’s always something giving them away. Usually, it was the eyes. ‘Eyes are windows to the soul’ isn’t just a saying. Pretending to be a normal human or an animal was a classic god trick, but usually, the Mist had to give them a hand in looking like a mortal.

Even Mom needed to rely on it to help her blend in. The Walmart greeter being able to see their deaths whenever they looked at her would have given the game away. But it’s hard to pretend to be mortal when you don’t know what mortality even is. This guy was kind of weirding me out though. I could maybe-sorta-kinda feel divinity? But he looked like a cherub that reached middle-aged in a trailer park. His red nose was probably a coke habit and the bloodshot blue eyes were the booze.

I tried not to let all the quiet stares of the campers bother me when the maybe god motioned for me to follow him out the pavilion. 

The rest of Camp Half-Blood was sprawled out at the base of the hill. To the left, there was a massive structure like an artificial cliff overseeing an amphitheater. A large lake fed by an ocean-bound river sat next to an open rectangle of twelve gleaming cabins and a more mundane elongated building that was probably...the bathrooms? Other large buildings and clear spaces, including what looked like an arena, almost looked unreal in the setting sun. Half-modern and half transplanted out of ancient Greek history. Large gardens ran right up to the borders of a foreboding forest and a large sky-blue farmhouse-mansion thing marked the camp’s entrance.

There were stragglers coming up the hill towards the dining pavilion. A few older campers. Some nymphs and satyrs including one oddly...familiar...looking one in an orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt…

I know that satyr?

I stopped walking. The satyr saw me and at first, he smiled a bright, goofy grin, before flinching and suddenly looking very, very guilty. He had wispy facial hair and acne, putting his age anywhere from fourteen to a young-looking sixteen.

I know that satyr.

I dropped my bag on the ground. I turned and handed the chubby god guy my paper plate of pizza- “Can you hold that for a sec? Thanks.” -and marched over with a big smile on my face. “Hey, G-Man!”

Grover Underwood looked relieved. “You made it! I- “

I punched him in the mouth.

Satyrs roamed the world looking for Greek half-bloods to guide to Camp Half-Blood. Safety in numbers, although I heard there was some kind of barrier around the place now too. Demigods with only mortal guardians had to defend themselves.

I didn’t need protection. I had my mother.

I knew he knew that. That had to be the reason for his slip earlier when he called her My Lady. It was the traditional address for female deities. I bet he’s the one that made the report bringing Hermes to our door so Olympus could take me away.

“Thanks,” I spat at his crumpled form. “Protector.”

Chubby God (I had no idea which one this dude was, but pretty sure it was a god) had a constipated look of almost amusement on his face when I took my pizza back. I bit back a snarl and just stuffed my pepperoni pizza slice into my mouth.

We continued walking down the hill into the camp in uncomfortable silence. I had nothing to say. I was still angry. I was pretty sure this guy wasn’t Zeus, so complaining to him was not going to do much. My Mom apparently had different priorities than I did. I could run, but that would mean living on the street dodging monsters while Dad slowly lost his mind worrying about me. It would be just like Mom’s tests, except it wouldn’t end.

I couldn’t do that to Dad.

I let out a long breath. My gut churned. It was almost painful.

“I guess I just stay...for the summer?” I bit my lip. “Like a normal camper.”

“Normal camper,” he snorted. He gave me a look out of the corner of his eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, kid,” he grumbled. “You existing? It’s shitty.” He tensed then, glancing around like he was expecting to be jumped from the bushes. When nothing happened, he relaxed and motioned with his hands. “The timing? Very shit. The parent? Double shit. And you’re a little shit, don’t try to deny it.”

Okay. He had me until the second half.

“I aim to please,” I said sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes. 

“One of those,” he mumbled. “Look, Peter - “

“Percy,” I cut in.

“Whatever. It’s nothing personal.” He said in an almost conciliatory tone. “You just mean the end of the world.”

I almost stopped walking again, before remembering.

“Oh right, that Prophecy thing?”

Chubby God did stop walking. He pinned me with this narrow-eyed look.  It might have been scary if he wasn’t wearing a Hawaiian tiger print shirt over a gray wife beater, if his nose wasn’t pulling a Rudolph and if he didn’t look completely hungover. I’m sure there is a story behind a literal god that can look however they want looking like a deadbeat, but for the life of me, I had no idea what it was.

Was he cursed?

“You know about that.” He said slowly. It was hard to get a read on the emotion in his voice. 

Mostly because I was still wondering if he was cursed.

He’s probably cursed.

“I got told when I was nine,” I answered him. Dad had taken me and child-sized Apollo out for a game of laser tag. Apollo had cheated (outrageously) and then dropped the bomb on both of us while we were eating chili dogs that I was the centerpiece to a Great Prophecy. Signed, sealed, and delivered by the Oracle of Delphi, Apollo’s most famous prophetess. 

He flubbed the delivery.

Let me tell you, there is nothing like a chili dog after being told you’ll probably die on your sixteenth birthday. 

All three of us came back from our boys’ day out bawling.

Mom was unimpressed.

The thing about Prophecies is that they all have one thing in common: Shit happens. If you are lucky, your Prophecy starts and stops with broad strokes of how to fix shit happening.’ If you are unlucky, it goes into detail and if your luck is abysmal, it will tell you that shit can’t be fixed at all. 

Mine went into detail.

Mom told me not to worry about it. I figured she would know. Fate is her thing. I know you’re probably thinking ‘You were nine? Maybe it was a white lie.’

No.

Mom doesn’t lie. Not to me.

“I don’t see the problem,” I said. “I just have to not.” 

Chubster shook his head and started walking again. “And we’re supposed to take your word for it?”

“Yes?” I said, confused. “I like the world the way it is.”

“Everyone says that,” he replied, sounding tired. “Until they’re offered something they want more, or they have nothing to lose.” I frowned. There was nothing I wanted that badly. I had everything to lose. “You’ve got years to change your mind,” he continued like he could hear what I was thinking. His voice picked up. “Best case scenario, you’re disqualified for the crime of dying while heroic! Win-win.”

I gave him a flat look.

If this jerk was an Olympian, we were two for two on assholes.

“Sure,” I drawled. “I’ll get right on that. Mom will love it.”

“She’s Fate, or something. Apparently.” He gave me a sick-looking smile. “Ball’s in her court.”

I relaxed a little.

I didn’t often think about it, because it was a bit too big to wrap my head around. The personification of Fate was my mother.

The ball was always in her court, wasn’t it?

But it’s our choices that make our destiny, I remembered.

And Mom doesn’t lie.

I adjusted my backpack and started munching on my ham and pineapple before my pizza got too cold. It looked like we were headed right for the big blue farmhouse. I guess that was the ‘Big House’ I would be bunking in. It had four floors and some kind of deck running around the outside. We swung past the bathrooms, allowing me to dump my empty plate in a trashcan. The shortly cut grass gave way to packed dirt. The twelve cabins were arranged in a large open rectangle, one for each throne on Olympus. It was half-funny and half-annoying that the cabins looked exactly how Apollo described.

His was solid gold, shining with the light of the setting sun. Artemis totally did steal his idea with an all silver cabin that would do the same with moonlight. Ares had no taste at all with badly painted red walls on a squat military-style barracks and barbed wire on the roof for no reason. Aphrodite’s was a 1950s dollhouse. Demeter’s cabin needed a hobbit door. Dionysus just threw grapevines on his cabin. Athena’s was boring. Hephaestus gave his kids a factory, Hermes’ was a dump. Zeus and Hera didn’t have summer camp cabins so much as miniature banks complete with Hellenic columns and Poseidon’s was the best made out of sea stone with seashells and coral on the walls.

Camp Half-Blood was a summer camp for Greek demigods, but more than just the Twelve had half-mortal kids. Or adopted kids, in Artemis’ case. I’m proof of that.

“Where do the others go?” I asked my guide. “The other gods’ kids. The Big House too?”

“Cabin eleven,” Chubster grunted. 

My eyes swung back towards the run-down building and its peeling brown paint. A caduceus was etched into the door and painted in with flaking gold. Cabin 11, Hermes. The God of Travelers. 

“That’s it?”

He grunted an affirmative and I swallowed.

Oh.

That was why their table at the mess pavilion was so full.

That didn’t make a lot of sense to me. It wouldn’t kill anyone to have a neutral cabin or two, right? Or a neutral table? Just enough to fit everyone comfortably. Hestia used to have a throne on Olympus. She was not only the eldest but neutral. Even if she would never have a demigod, she was still the goddess of Family and Home. Trusting her with kids should be a no-brainer?

Did Hades have kids? Did they just get stuffed into Cabin 11 too? He’s one of the ‘Big Three.’ Even if he didn’t have a throne on Olympus, he was still Lord of the Underworld. They wouldn’t…

I looked over the cabins again.

Exactly twelve.

Maybe Hera?

Goddess of Familial Love, right?

Or am I stupid?

...I’m stupid.

Maybe not Hera.

Trusting Hera with any number of demigods was...probably a bad idea, now that I thought about it. Like classical Greek tragedy bad. She was the reason Heracles nearly Total Party Killed his entire family and killed his best friend in fits of madness. She put him through some shit, is all I’m saying.

For the crime of being her husband’s bastard.

And he wasn’t the only one she did that to.

She had a cabin just slightly smaller than the eternal playboy Zeus’. A pretty, useless, empty building.

“Can’t we just build more cabins?” I asked.

“You can sign that petition Larry Castillo whoever sends to Olympus every summer,” Chub said uncaringly.

My eyes caught on the large campfire in the middle. There was a small girl about seven or eight years old in brown robes kneeling next to it, poking at the coals with a stick that refused to burn. Was she - had she been there a second ago?

She felt me staring, I think. Her head turned to look at me and her eyes were literally on fire.

Which was, uh, new.

I blinked.

Oh.

Oh!

I know who that is!

Grinning, I waved at my favorite goddess with both arms. She gave me a small, dimpled smile and raised a hand.

Hestia Prytaneia and Hestia Potheinotáti, I prayed with the only Names she allowed herself to keep. They meant ‘of the Hearth’ and ‘the Beloved’ respectively. I wanted to make sure she heard me. You are awesome and adorable. Your dad was an ass. Keep up the good work.

Her eyes widened as I gave her a double thumbs up for good measure before turning back forward.

I was led across a small, narrow vine bridge across a slim river. Up close, the Big House was huge. It loomed, making me wonder what all the rooms were used for. The deck around the house was littered with lawn chairs and tables. On the top of the house, there was a bronze eagle weathervane with still wind chimes that were definitely not what they seemed. When we rounded the house to the front, someone was waiting for us.

It was a tall woman in business casual. A white blouse with gray stripes on her shoulders and matching gray pants. I was pretty sure it was a goddess, but I could be wrong. Chubster was making me doubt myself.

“Dionysus,” the maybe-goddess said tightly, surprising me. 

So deadbeat god was an Olympian. I am…

I am actually not surprised at all.

“And you must be the son of the Serpent,” she continued as we drew closer. She had a voice made for karaoke, but I think she would murder anyone who tried.

She looked like that kind of person.

“I guess?” I said. I guess it was like calling a Poseidon kid ‘son of the Earthshaker.’ “Percy Stele.”

She had black hair that curled at the ends and eyes that reminded me of the coral skeletons I saw in a marine museum as a kid. Black Coral, I think? At first, it was just dark gray, but it was made up of millions of spots of other colors, blue, red, yellow, green, and more like a colorful collage. It made her eyes shine like an oil spill. Like some kind of weird optical illusion. 

She inclined her head. “Athena.” 

Okay.

So that was another Olympian.

I-

Huh. 

Meeting the hungover God of Parties kind of hit different from a Goddess of Strategic War. 

I smiled and tried to look harmless. “Not as Athena Promachus, I hope?”

If she was here as a war and battle Name, I might be in trouble.

Her eyes widened a little before her face blanked again. 

“No, I did not think it was necessary,” she said smoothly. “I speak to you as Athena Areia, Polias, Hygieia and Glaukopis in one.” Her eyes searched my face. Something told me she couldn’t see through my sunglasses, but that didn’t stop her from trying. “And you know what that means, don’t you?”

“Judge, Protector, Physician, and Observer,” I recited respectively. 

Those weren’t the literal translations. ‘Glaukopis’ meant something like ‘bright-eyed’ or ‘owl-eyed,’ but you get the idea. It was like equipping a perk in a video game, or a title in a Role Playing Game. If my Paladin earned the epithet ‘Vampire Slayer,’ and all it meant was ‘I killed two vampires yesterday and almost died?’ Then that would be pretty lame. Instead, it meant I killed a lot of vampires. I got good at killing vampires. I was known for killing vampires and gimme that +2 to damage rolls against vampires!

If my Paladin was then ambushed by werewolves, I would be back to square one. However, there was nothing stopping me from earning a ‘Werewolf Slayer’s title. If I worked hard enough, my divine warrior could gain a title for underwater whistling. A Paladin wasn’t built for that, but I could.

The Young gods worked the same way. 

Athena was still a Goddess of Wisdom, Handicrafts, and Strategic War just like my Paladin didn’t just randomly lose his class ability Lay on Hands, but her Names shaped her focus. Apollo was Apollo, but it was the Prophet I shared my visions with because he understood better. It was the Archer that dragged me outside because not feeling the wind on his face bothered him. The Twin was a bit (more) of an idiot, but the Locust could get mean.  

Put all of Athena’s current titles together and you get something like...

“Risk assessment?” I asked slowly.

Her gaze sharpened like she was looking down into my bones. “Just so.”

Drunkard God grunted. “If you ask me, he’s too dangerous to keep.”

Whoa, wait.

Before I could panic, Athena held up a hand.

“Your feelings on this matter are irrelevant, Camp Director,” She told her half-brother with this carefully even tone of voice. Now that I noticed, everything about her seemed careful. Carefully blank expressions. Bland clothing. Hair down. Her hands were at her sides and empty. Non-threatening. “He could be dangerous, as can all demigods.”

That got her an unimpressed look. 

“Prophecy,” Dionysus said flatly.

“Which explicitly gives him a choice,” she countered casually. “He can. If we prove ourselves to be fools, however, his mother will.” 

So…

Yeah.

There wasn’t anything I could say to that. 

Mom was not a forgive and forget kind of person.

Think of every terrible Fate you’ve ever heard someone suffer and then imagine how much worse it could get to personally be on Fate’s shit list. 

“It’s some kind of fluke,” Chubster God waved a hand at me. “There’s no way - “

“Dude, what is your malfunction?” I interrupted him. “Is this because you’re cursed or something?”

Now that I knew who the jerk god was, he had no room to complain about Fate. Sure his mother was a moron, but Zeus gave a damn. do you know how rare that is? He escaped Hera cursing him by getting her mother to overturn it. That’s like being blacklisted by Steve Jobs, but convincing Bill Gates to hire you. Demanded to be worshiped while mortal, wiggled out of all attempts to punish him for it. Then Mister Demigod-of-the-Huge-Cajones invaded the Underworld twice to rescue people, succeeded, got happily married, and not only achieved immortality but was granted major godhood. He wasn’t guarding a rock somewhere, Hestia lost her Name of Queen giving him her throne on Olympus. 

“Because if I remember my myths right, Mom gave you enough success to choke on.”

I don’t know what I was expecting him to do. Get angry maybe? Instead he kind of just- it was like he was a whoopie cushion.

I could almost hear the wet raspberry as he deflated.

“You do not have to like the boy, but you will respect his parentage,” Athena said coldly. “I tell you this for your own sake if anyone wishes you to fight Fate? Don’t.” 

Her younger brother lowered his eyes. 

“Not even the gods fight Ananke.” He said bitterly like he was quoting someone.

There was a flicker of Mom’s attention. A bit of pressure killed the breeze before she was gone again. Both gods stiffened and lost color in their faces.

That was weird to me. What were they feeling from Mom’s presence that I wasn’t?

“Fuck,” Rudolph the Red-Nosed God said. “Not doing that again.”

“A fluke, is it?” Athena said. The ‘you idiot’ could be heard in her voice. “You were told what to do if any came to Camp.”

“You’re kidding, it’s been millennia - “

“Your first mistake was thinking you knew better. You’re not suited for it.” She stepped forward, shutting his mouth, and waved a dismissive hand towards the Big House. “You have your duties, Camp Director.” 

The jerk god gave me this unreadable look and for the first time, I saw the divinity behind his strange mortal disguise. A purplish glow brewed in his blue eyes, shoving images of people eating each other, cutting off their own limbs, and carving still-beating hearts out of each other’s chests to place on a black altar in my head. 

It looked like something I’d see in Mom’s eyes.

Deadbeat God snorted. “Figures.”

He brushed past me and disappeared into the house. I scowled at his back. I literally haven’t done anything to deserve whatever his problem with me is. 

“Dionysus is the youngest of us,” Athena reminded me with a sigh. “He does not understand, but he will not harm you.”

“Uh-huh,” I said skeptically. “I’ll behave if he does, we’ll be great friends.”

She chose to take my word for it.

“I will admit to having questions I must ask you,” Athena ventured after a moment. “Are you amenable to speaking with me?”

“Sure?” I shrugged one of my shoulders. She was polite, at least. “Can we sit?”

“We can.”

The metal lawn chairs on the deck were comfortable enough. They had well-used cushions with floral patterns bleached by sunlight. I put my bag down beside me under the table that stood between our chairs. There was an umbrella on the table, but judging by the stains under the strap holding it closed, it hadn’t been used in a while.

Athena crossed her legs as she leaned one arm on the table. Her gray eyes searched me like I was a puzzle she was putting together. Or like a bug under her microscope.

“Take a picture,” I muttered.

“Photographic memory,” she said simply, not even blinking. “Your name is Percy, then?”

“Perseus,” I admitted. “But Percy, yeah.”

“I assume you live with your mortal father?”

I nodded.

“And you learned about divine Names,” she mused. “What else were you taught?”

“We covered Domains, Signs, Wards, Monsters, World Knowledge, Pantheons,” I ticked them off on my fingers. Summer school, basically. “General combat stuff, Quest Preparation, uh, Sensitivity... and...my inherited abilities,” I said a bit quieter.

Failing at learning my inherited abilities. 

The best I’ve been able to do is read my cards. Mom said she was proud of me anyway. I believed her. She was. She is. But I’ve never been able to actually use my divinity. I don’t know what I should even be able to do. I don’t know what Mom was waiting for, or why she couldn’t just tell me what I needed to do.

Maybe a demigod of The Mórrigan would be too different, so she had to wait for Ananke to pay attention? I'm not sure how Elder God Names work. They were different from Young Gods, but how much different? Beats me. The best we ever got from Ananke was that I needed to get stronger first. How strong? I don’t know. 

“Your father taught you this?” Athena asked.

“My mom,” I told her. 

Obviously?

You are reading story An Undertow of Sand at novel35.com

Athena’s brow furrowed. “You were personally educated by the Serpent?”

“Uh, no?” I said. Dad was proof that would have been a bad idea. 

Athena's face relaxed for some reason, and I suddenly realized that they didn’t know. They had no idea the Celtic Harbinger of Fate was another Name of Ananke in service of the same Elder God. That was why they gave her a ticket for a cross pantheon violation (why is that a thing). They thought I was fully adopted.

Mom didn’t correct them. 

Yet.

“I was raised by The Mórrigan and she taught me.”

Athena’s lips pursed. “Cross-pantheon upbringing...It is good you were removed then.”

“What? No!” I protested immediately.

“You are concerned with losing a parental figure.” Athena tried to be comforting. She was shit at it. “That is understandable, but The Mórrigan should never have risked - “

“There wasn’t any risk!” I snapped at her, slamming a fist onto the table. The metal crumpled. “Mom wanted her to!” 

It was suddenly hard to breathe. They had their reasons. I didn’t like it, but they did. They were probably stupid reasons, but they had them. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. It didn’t work, not until I felt someone gently card fingers through my hair. I inhaled a shuddery breath but there were no tears. 

“Of course,” Athena said softly. “It would be foolish to assume Fate herself had no hand in your upbringing.”

“Right,” I said, just to say it. Just to hear it said. “Right…”

They couldn’t keep me here. Not if Mom didn’t want me to be. At most, it would be three months. Just a normal summer camp. She said I’d be back at Trinity next school year. She said so. I’d have to be home for that.

I’d have to be.

My breathing evened out. It’s fine.

It’s fine.

Athena patted my shoulder, rising from her crouch behind me. “You must understand, we are unfamiliar with demigods of your caliber. Before you, there were only two in all of Olympus’ history. One of Night, the other of the Pit. And they were…”. 

Nyx and Tartarus. Night and the Pit.

“Monsters.” I finished for her.

“Yes.” She took her seat again as I cringed. I wanted to believe they grew up as I did. But I knew better. “And then there is you, given a divine education and mortal.” She paused. “You are mortal.”

Uh.

A divine education?

“Uh, my spine sticks out a bit, I guess,” I offered with a weak smile. It’s why my hair was a bit long. It wasn’t bad or anything, just noticeable. If I hunched over, it was actually awesomely gross! “A few extra ribs and organs, but I bleed red. You can ask Apollo!”

Athena’s eyes narrowed. “Apollo.”

“Yeah?”

He was the God of Medicine. You’d think he'd know a little something on how to tell mortals from everything else.

“Apollo knew,” Athena said flatly.

“He found me when I was five.”

“Apollo knew for years.” 

“Yup.”

…

...

That sound you just heard was Apollo screaming from under the tires of an Olympic-sized bus.

“I see.” Athena closed her eyes. Her face twisted in frustration before it smoothed out again. I had to wonder what bothered her more, that Apollo knew or that it was Apollo that knew. Her eyes reopened. “May I see what your glasses hide?”

I flinched but reached up for my sunglasses anyway. According to Cliff, the Mist hid my eyes just like it hid his dogginess, turning the shimmering colors of an aurora borealis into a static greenish-blue. Sea green. That wasn’t why I wore my glasses though. 

We both sucked in a breath at the same time.

Her ghost was messily dismembered. Someone took the time to rip it apart, piece by piece.

“You say you are mortal,” Athena said softly.

“I am? I just inherited them from my mom,” I said uncomfortably. I kept my eyes locked on hers stubbornly. Ignoring ghosts like hers, the ones that spoke of malice were always the hardest. An accident? Sure. In battle? Okay. From sickness sucked. It was great when people died in their sleep, at peace, surrounded by friends and family.

Most of the time they don’t.

I guess not even gods.

“Sometimes it happens, right?”

“No,” Athena corrected me. “It does not.” I made a confused noise in my throat. “First, I will ask a question: What color are my eyes?”

“Black Coral,” I said, trusting the Goddess of Wisdom to know what I was talking about. She should. That was her thing. “Color collage. Shines like an oil spill when the light hits them a certain way.”

One of her slim eyebrows twitched up.

“Yes…” She drew out. “Be careful looking beneath the Mist like that. Not all expressions of divinity are safe to see.”

“I...literally can’t help it,” I admitted. 

Her brow furrowed again. “Your glasses shield you, then?”

“Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p.’

There was the ‘bug under a microscope’ look again. 

“The easiest way to explain,” she moved on, but it was probably too much to hope she forgot, “is that the eyes of a god are literal, while the eyes of the half-mortal children of said god if they even inherit it, are merely evocative.”

I caught myself raising my hand like I was in class. “Sorry. Evocative?”

“It is suggestive of, or strongly reminds you of, something else. A certain shade of red may be evocative of a ripe apple.” 

I think I understood what she was getting at. “So, I can see the sun in Apollo’s eyes. But.”

She nodded once. “If his children inherit his blue eyes, they will be the shade of a clear afternoon sky. You will not see the sun in them. Evocative of divinity, but too mortal for it.”

I saw my birth mother in my dreams once.

I had her eyes.

Stars and everything.

“Oh.”

“Perhaps it is simply a rare peculiarity, like one of Aphrodite’s defects,” Athena thought out loud, but I don’t think she believed it. “And Apollo’s gaze does not blind you?” It sounded like she didn’t expect me to answer but I nodded anyway. “Interesting. Still, if a god requests you look away, I would not recommend disobeying.”

“Duh,” I grumbled. I’m not that stupid. “What about the other kids?” I had to ask. “From Night and the Pit? Maybe it’s our thing?”

“One did not even have eyes,” Athena said evenly as she stood up. “The other…”

Ouch.

Right. Monsters.

She smiled thinly. “I will tell my father that Olympus’ intervention will not be necessary at this time. I would ask that it stays that way.”

“I’ll behave,” I muttered, putting my glasses back on. “I’m not- I’m not like them. A monster. I’m not dangerous.”

“All demigods can be,” she replied. She turned to leave, stopping long enough to warn me. “Aphrodite is whole. The Five Ages of Man began with the Titan Lord’s reign. The Titan Lord was the Sky Father’s son, and he deposed him with the aid of his brothers and the Earth Mother.”

What?

That wasn’t what I was taught.

Kronos wasn’t related to the Sky Father at all. Aphrodite was a hot mess and the Five Ages started way before the Titans were a thing! Was she saying that Olympus just lied about the Rebellion?

“Do you understand?” Athena pressed. Her gray eyes bored into mine.

I didn’t understand, but… “Yeah. I won’t say otherwise.”

A tension I hadn’t noticed was even there drained out of her shoulders. 

“Some knowledge,” she explained softly. “It would be best if we forgot.”

I shrugged one shoulder. I get it. Some things are dangerous, even just to know about. Like all the Names of my mother. There was a difference between knowing that her Names were dangerous, and forgetting she even had Names though. Forgetting you could call things up, doesn’t mean it isn’t a mistake forgetting how to put them down.

Just because you forgot history, doesn’t mean it won’t repeat. 

“And that way…”I asked slowly. “The knowledge forgets about you?”

The Goddess of Wisdom didn’t answer.

I’m not sure how long I sat in that lawn chair after she left. I tried to put my arm on the table, but it was broken. I don’t remember when that happened. It had to have been me, Athena didn’t seem the type for random destruction. I ended up hugging my canvas backpack to my chest, listening to strains of the campers singing songs I didn’t know as the sun was swallowed by the horizon, just trying to accept that I was at Camp Half-Blood. I was always going to go. I had even been looking forward to it. 

Cliff was a great friend, but he was my only friend.

So that sounds terrible.

What I mean is, I have people that I consider friends. I'm just don't think I'm theirs. The only demigod I know I haven't seen in years and the rest are thousands of years old. I'm twelve. Just a mortal demigod. I wasn't going to kid myself.

I couldn’t ask a classmate about the easiest way to kill a cyclops. I couldn’t ask the kids that lived a floor under me how they figured out their divine powers. I couldn’t go to the park and expect the kids throwing me a football to know the glory of audiobooks. I doubt anyone at the water park knew what it was like being hunted by monsters. To everyone at the library, the myths of gods and monsters, magic and giants, prophecies and heroes were just that.

Myths.

I could be just another kid here.

A demigod.

Like everyone else.

I sighed.

“Take a picture,” I grunted.

“Percy, right?” The God of Wine grunted back. 

“Yeah.” I looked up at the God of Wine. He was frowning in the doorway of the Big House, but not at me, I think. He was just grumpy. “You got a nickname? Or…”

I have my own issues with the name ‘Dionysus.’

“Mr. D is fine,” he waved off. “We’ve got a curfew. You can stay outside all night, but the harpies will eat anything.”

Yikes.

I followed him into the Big House.

“Most of the rooms are used as extensions of the infirmary, usually after Capture the Flag on Fridays.” On one hand, aww, I missed Capture the Flag! On the other hand, what kind of Capture the Flag game needed an infirmary? “Chiron’s office and rooms are over there. The driver is in the back. Mine are one floor up.”

“Where is Chiron?” I asked.

“Off playing teacher at some mortal school,” Mr. D grumped. “House call.”

I nodded like that made sense.

“Third floor is mostly classrooms, a mailroom, and study rooms for antisocial brats.” I smothered a smirk. Hope he wasn’t referring to me. “Attic is off-limits.”

I already knew what was up there. The Oracle of Delphi. Her corpse, at least. She died ages ago. World War 2 or somewhen, I think. If I focused, I could feel her. A soft thrumming feeling running up and down my spine of borrowed power, feeling so very similar to Apollo’s but twisted, somehow. 

“I won’t go looking for trouble,” I promised.

Mr. D just gave me a look. 

“Demigod,” he said, pointing at me. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Oh, he’ll see it, alright.

This would be a nice, quiet summer for me.

“You’ll be staying here.” He opened the door to a large bedroom. It was about the size of my room at home with a bed against the left wall, a nightstand, and a dresser for clothes. There was a desk and chair in the corner, an empty rack of shelves, and a plush red carpet in the center of the room. I had a ceiling fan with a light, but it didn’t look like air conditioning was a thing. A door off to the right led to a small half-bathroom. I could see Mr. D’s influence in the potted grapevines by the lone window across from the door and in the slim bands of Celestial Bronze crossing the wood walls. 

Celestial Bronze looked just like regular bronze, if regular bronze was polished to a mirror shone all the time, and glowed. It was a godly metal, magically conductive, capable of killing monsters and wounding immortals.

In the low light, the bronze would be like a night light. That was cool.

Not that I needed a night light or anything. 

I didn’t. 

It was just neat, using the divine metal like that, is all.

“This is really nice,” I said with a smile. “Thanks, Mr. D.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He closed the door as he left and I could see there were Celestial Bronze bands on the door too, forming unbroken lines around the room when shut.

I took off my shoes and crawled onto the bed. It was a little high, and definitely big, but I’d grow into it. I dug into my backpack for my money bag. It was a soft, leather purse jingling with the sound of gold coins. 

Authentic gold drachmas, the currency of Olympus. A little bigger than a quarter, stamped with various gods of the Dodekatheon on one side (usually Zeus) and the Empire State Building on the other, which would probably confuse the hell out of any historian of Ancient Greece.

Then out came my ‘phone,’ a small gold tablet with two large hieroglyphs in the center and smaller runic letters around the edges.

Time for a phone call home.

I rubbed the crowned half-circle symbol with my thumb and a rainbow flickered above the tablet. 

“Oh Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering.” I tossed a gold drachma into it and the rainbow swallowed it. “Dorian Stele, Manhattan.”

Our kitchen appeared within the rainbow. Dad was sitting at the table, head in his arms with a nearly empty bottle of something nearby. I searched for a glass but didn’t find one. Had he been drinking straight out of the bottle?

Fuck.

“Dad!”

He jumped up.

“Percy-!“ His flailing arm knocked the bottle over the side of the table and I winced as it smashed on the kitchen floor. “Shit!” He bent, his chair scraping across the floor with a screech, then thought better of reaching for the glass shards with his fingers. He took a step towards the pantry, stopped, swore again, running a hand through his hair. “Percy, I-“

“Dad, breathe. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

He looked awful. He was pale and the bags under his eyes were dark. His eyes were red and there were stains on his shirt.

“You’re okay,” he repeated dully. “You’re fine.”

He fell back into his chair. It screeched again. A brown liquid was spreading across the floor from the broken bottle. 

“I’m at Camp Half-Blood,” I said as calmly as I could. “We talked about it before, remember?”

Please remember.

“Yes,” he croaked, running a hand over his face. “I- I remember. Summer camp, like I did as a kid.”

“That’s right. You had fun, right?”

He took several deep breaths. 

“Best times of my life,” he murmured. “Parents sent me.” His distant eyes searched the table before finding the bottle on the ground. “Oh,” he said. His hands shook. 

“Dad,” I said slowly. “Where’s Mom?”

He shuddered as if hit.

“She-“ He shrugged. “Gone. She left.” My stomach twisted sharply as he let out a wounded sound. No, Mom- my parents loved each other. They were married. There had been a ceremony and photographer and rings and everything. She wouldn’t just leave. “She-she left me.”

“Did she leave the ring?” I demanded. Dad flinched. “Dad! Did she leave the ring?”

“I don’t-“ He looked around like he was trying to spot it on the counters. “I don’t know.”

“It’s probably like five years ago, remember?” I said, feeling like I was going to explode. “Remember? She had to go, but she came back. She plans ahead, and sometimes she has to leave for a little while.”

“Five years,” He said blankly. “Five years ago?” His left hand traced patterns in the air. “You were...seven? Your-your birthday?”

“Yes! But she came back. It’s just like that, okay? It’s just like that.” Apollo will be there tomorrow, I thought. 

He better be.

“She’ll come back,” Dad breathed out. He ran a hand through his hair again. “Okay. Okay…” He blinked slowly and squinted at the microwave. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I- third Friday.”  It hit me like a lightning bolt. Mom plans ahead. “Today’s the third Friday of the month. I don’t have a bedtime!”

Dad stared at me for a bit, and then his shoulders slumped. A sound that might have been a laugh left him. “You’re not staying up all night taking care of me.”

“Bite me,” I said. I moved my backpack behind me so I could lean against it. “I got my own room at Camp,” I started with. “I don’t have to bunk with anyone and even have my own bathroom. Still need to use the communal shower though.”

Dad huffed and ran a hand down his face. “Wouldn’t be a summer camp without communal showers…”

I described Camp Half-Blood to him, everything that I saw on the walk to the Big House, as best I could. I told him about seeing Hestia with a minor detour reminding him why she was awesome, and my impressions of Mr. D and Athena. I talked about my day at school, as humiliating as it was, and the water park, my audiobook orders, and how Grover the Dairy Queen counter server had actually been a satyr. And then I just...talked to talk. Anything I could think of. 

Dad needed me.

Eventually, Hypnos’ pull grew too strong and I made the mistake of lying down when my neck complained. I said something, but I can’t remember what.

Dad laughed. “Good night, son.”

I didn’t sleep long. I woke up to my Spidey Sense screaming. The soft glow of Celestial Bronze on the walls shone through a spooky, heavy green mist.

There was someone on my bed.

I bolted upright, already reaching for the silver sword pendant on my necklace, but whoever it was lunged at the same time. I grunted as they pried my arm away from my weapon, and then I wheezed when their other hand closed on my throat. 

“It’s changed!” The Oracle of Delphi shrieked into my face. “It’s changed!” Her emaciated skull loomed in the darkness. Her shriveled eye sockets burned with green light as wisps of mist curled out of her shrunken nose and billowed from her mouth. “Hear me, son of the Ruiner! Loosen the shackles and relinquish control!”

“I don’t- “ I choked out as I tried to kick her off. “I don’t understand!”

Opening my mouth was a mistake. 

The green mist rushed in and it was cold. Like ice fresh from the freezer, sticking and pulling all the way down my throat. The world spun as visions assaulted my mind. A horse and an eagle fighting, desolated cities, flowers bloomed and died within seconds, people I have never seen before fighting, talking, laughing, dying, monsters, giants - the images were coming faster. Too many. Too many! A great chasm opened in the middle of a park and my vision swooped down into it. Down. Down. Down. 

Come down, little hero! Come down!

I heard a woman’s voice. “I foresee the future. I cannot change it. It is a small blessing, but a greater curse.” 

You shall go west and face the god -

 

And fail without friends -

 

One shall perish by a parent’s hand - 

 

And lose a love to worse than death -

 

The forge and dove shall break the cage!

A half-blood child of the eldest gods -

 

To storm or fire must fall.

 

“Take it, boy.” The Oracle sneered. I could feel it coiling within her. Apollo’s borrowed power fed off a thread that felt like my mother, but lesser, infusing a mortal soul and there was a dark, oily barbed wire strangling it all together. Binding it to the corpse with razor shards. I could feel it. The wire had reached out, raking across my mind. “Take it!”

I can’t.

“Take it!”

I can’t!

“I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python!” I slammed my hands into her forearms. They gave with dry snapping sounds, but her grip just tightened. It wasn’t the corpse I was fighting. I could barely see the light of the bronze. My lungs burned.

Apollo! I cried out in my mind.

“Approach, seeker,” she crooned. “And ask.”

Anger replaced the fear. It was like something in me broke. All the stress of the day came out at once. A sudden strength flooded my body and my vision sharpened. I could see shapes within the green mist. The wrinkles in her dead skin. Every crack in her lips. Every strand of brittle hair. I abandoned trying to stop her and reached out for her skull.

Take it. 

Loosen the shackles.

The green fire in her eyes bored into mine.

Take it!

“Die,” I commanded and my voice resonated. The Spirit, the power, the curse, the soul. There was a burning, twisting, greedy tug in my gut as if it had a mouth that had just opened up wide.

Take it!

And swallowed it all.

It felt…

Amazing.

I was powerful, I was aware, I could see other flickering lights in the distance I was flying I wanted more -

The light of the Celestial Bronze was suddenly blinding.

The wind beneath my wings stalled.

And like Icarus, I crashed hard.

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