Chapter 5: In Which I Am A Normal Camper

“So what happened Friday night?” Maybe-Pollux asked me when we sat down for breakfast in the dining pavilion. Mr. D was already at Table 12, face down and gently snoring. No one seemed surprised, so I guess it was just something the god did.

“If you can tell us,” Maybe-Castor chided his brother and I swore to myself that eventually, I will be able to tell them apart.

The twin sons of Mr. D looked a lot like their dad’s current mortal disguise before the trailer park and booze. They had his slightly curling hair just blond instead of black, violet eyes and cherubic look complete with Pillsbury Doughboy smiles. In their orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirts and khaki shorts they looked completely identical until you noticed that Maybe-Castor wore sandals while Maybe-Pollux was a filthy heathen in sneakers without socks.

Breakfast was very Greek with yogurts and fruit and feta cheese and flatbreads and these sourdough pancakes made with olive oil and honey. It was the type of food Grandma swore by, so it wasn’t as big of a culture shock as it could have been. It was actually kind of nice. My grandparents didn’t know this place existed, but they definitely would have approved.

Well maybe not the part about honest-to-God lava on the Climbing Wall - that was asking for a heart attack - but everything else.

“Some bug crawled up the Oracle’s ass that made her try to kill me,” I said as I dumped a handful of grapes into my yogurt. “So I ate her.”

“What.” Pollux (Castor? Damn it) said with his fork hanging out of his mouth while his brother stared at me over the top of his goblet and I realized that maybe I shouldn’t have said that. My stomach sunk as I looked down and swirled the grapes into the yogurt. Dionysus wasn't a War god. They were Greek demigods, but that didn't mean they were used to things trying to kill them. Or that they were used to killing them back, no matter what they said or how they looked. 

I could almost hear Cliff’s exasperated sigh in my head and ‘Can you, like, not?’

“Uh.” I waved my spoon around in the air as I searched for the words to explain what happened. “Oracle spirit?” Then I gestured towards myself. “Son of Fate. Weird shit happened.”

Both boys nodded like they understood completely.

"Oh, figures," one said.

"Fate boy and zombie oracle spirit? Disaster waiting to happen," the other quipped and I absolutely did not cry into my pancakes. Some of the flowering nymphs around - stuff got in my eyes, you know how it is. My sunglasses got most of it, of course. There was maybe a tear or two to clear away. You can ask the twins! One boy smiled gently at me, while the other politely shooed some of the nymphs away. It felt like this invisible chasm in the table between us had shrunk, if it hadn’t disappeared completely. Conversation yesterday was all about the Camp. Friendly enough, but it had been like no one was sure I was going to be a normal Camper.

I could be a normal Camper.

“We’ve all been there,” Castor (fuck it, he’s Castor) the Sandal Wearer said. “One time the neighbor’s dog chased Castor - “ damn, he’s not Castor - “into a ground bees’ nest and he escaped to a wild strawberry patch  - “

“And that’s the story!” The actual Castor the Sockless said loudly. “It was a literal pain in my ass, thank you,” he said as an aside to his twin. “Dog died. The end.”

Pollux sniggered. “Weeeelll…”

“The end!”

I could be a normal Camper.

“We visited Niagara Falls,” I offered. “Dad had to smuggle me back on the tourist bus without my pants because of a giant evil badger.”

Yeah. Don’t ask.

“We were kidnapped by trees when we were seven.” Castor shot his snoring father a cheeky look. “Pops wouldn’t let us out of his sight for a month, literally put us on a leash, fretting like an old woman.”

Mr. D snorted mid-snore.

“Heard that,” the god muttered, turning his head just enough to cast a bloodshot blue eye over his sons. His thick unruly black beard bristled.

“He burned the forest down,” Pollux said with glee, winking back. “Turns out the Hunters were in it! The moon goddess was pissed.”

Their father groaned, burying his face in his arms, mumbling something incomprehensible as we laughed. The dining pavilion was filling up with campers and the fire in the central brazier grew from hot coals to a roaring fire, as if responding to the amount of people around. Most tossed handfuls of fruit into the flames resulting in sweet smelling smoke. I wondered who they offered too. I thought about making an offering to Mom. Some cheese or something, but I couldn’t do it. I stood at the fire like a stump, a fork on my plate ready to scrape something into the flames and felt like I was two inches tall.

I know how to make a proper sacrifice. That was not it.

I finished off my pancakes and started to mix oats into my yogurt. “Pixies ruined my tenth birthday party.”

Pollux’s eyebrows wiggled. “Was exorcised twice.”

“Twice?” I mumbled, impressed in spite of myself.

“The priest thought he was me!” Castor blurted out. He threw back his head and cackled. 

Breakfast at Camp Half-Blood was already great!

We continued to trade stories in short blurbs out of an unspoken agreement that it was hilarious not getting all the details. Mid-way through the Pollux’s ‘Escaped a polka dance led by Pops’ demented fan cult’ sentence, Luke Castellan the Counselor of Cabin 11, Hermes, coughed and tapped the table for attention.

“I’m not even going to ask,” he said, eyebrows raised.

Luke looked much like he did yesterday, but he was either not a morning person or didn’t sleep well. There were dark bags under his eyes and his shirt was rumpled. It was long-sleeved this time and orange on black, like a color inverted Ancient Greek vase. His scar in the morning light looked worse than I thought. Even half an inch higher and he probably would have lost his eye.

Demigods were resilient. We heal faster and heal better than normal people. That’s before we get into our ability to eat and drink godly food without turning to ash. Whatever gave him that must have been mean.

Pollux and Castor grinned identical smiles up at the older boy.

Luke grinned back.

“He stays with Cabin 11, sorry boys!” The twins immediately dropped their smiles for pouts. The son of Hermes was unphased. “You lost fair and square.”

Pollux coughed. “Hermes Cabin wins a game of drawing lots, what a surprise.”

Luke’s grin shifted to something definitely more sly looking. It pulled at his scar, narrowing his eyes and making his sharp features stand out. It made him almost look evil.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. The goddess of fortune is my sister.” He barked a laugh as the two members of Dionysus Cabin rolled their eyes. “Alright, alright. I need to borrow Percy for a few minutes.” He fished a paper square out of his jean shorts and started unfolding it. “I’ve got a schedule made for you, but I want your opinion on it.”

“Sure.” I nodded.

Then there was this awkward moment where I didn’t move and Luke didn’t move and we kind of just stared at each other before he realized I wasn’t getting up and I realized he wasn’t sitting down.

“Uh,” Luke looked taken aback, glancing down at the bench like it was a rattlesnake. “The tables are only for cabin members,” he said slowly. A frown was pulling at his lips and I saw him glance towards some of the empty tables in the pavilion. “We’re not allowed at the other tables.”

Oh that’s right. Camp was stupid.

I opened my mouth.

“You were given permission,” Luke preempted me. The smile he plastered onto his face didn’t look happy. “Your mom’s too big of a deal to make you sit on the floor. I don’t think it’ll work the same for me. It’s only for a couple minutes, it’s fine.”

“Never know until you try?” I asked.

I was making this awkward. I knew I was making this awkward, but this was fucking stupid!

I inherited my father’s tolerance for stupidity and I’m not going to apologize for it.

We all looked towards Mr. D sawing logs as a bold nymph braided a strand of his black hair. She knew the god didn’t need to sleep right? That he was at least partially still aware right? She had to.

“It’s fine?” Castor said a bit louder than normal. The god didn’t move and Castor nodded to himself. “It’s fine.”

Luke looked like he swallowed a lemon.

He gingerly sat next to me. As soon as his butt touched the seat he went rigid like he expected the bench to set off firecrackers under his ass. When nothing happened, Luke glanced back at the God of Wine again. A thoughtful look passed over his face.

“Huh,” he said.

The twins were frowning. Pollux pushed some of his cheese around on his plate as Castor stuffed a pancake in his mouth with a deep furrow in his brow.

“Should have asked sooner,” Pollux muttered, looking towards the over-full Cabin 11 table across the pavilion.

“You know how he is,” Castor said after swallowing. “Now we know.”

Luke spread his paper out on the table where a timetable had been sketched out with pencil and a pen with a larger than normal point size. A few mistakes were crossed out here and there. Luke had this blocky way of writing that I absolutely had to copy. The letters still tried to skip around on me, but reluctantly. They were easier to recognize. Like they were trying not to piss me off for once in my life but just couldn’t help themselves.

“Every morning we have inspections for the cabin, making sure we didn’t trash the place. Chiron will probably do that for you as he also lives in the Big House,” Luke explained, pointing at the times printed by the blocks. “I’ll take over when he isn’t in, so tomorrow morning? Clean your room.” He moved to the next block and offhandedly asked, “How’s your Ancient Greek?”

“Fluent in all dialects,” I answered with a shrug. Luke’s mouth snapped shut with a click as the twins perked up.

“How long did that take you?” Castor asked, leaning forward. “Pops is grilling us on Doric Greek right now and we’ve been learning since we could talk.”

I smiled apologetically. “Born with it.”

Greek demigods have it a bit rough. The nature of our inherited divinity takes a hacksaw to the part of our brains dealing with language. Almost literally. I found out about that when Dad took me to the doctor after a bad vision just to make sure my visions weren’t hurting me. He ended up getting questions on what happened to my brain, why wasn’t I a drooling idiot, and are those eyes?

We got to keep the images, even though the doctors didn’t get to keep their memories.

You can see it with an MRI.

Children of Athena have a preference for Attic Greek, the language of Ancient Athens and its successor dialect Khoine Greek. Children of Ares are for Doric and Macedonian because of Sparta and conquerors or something. Everybody has a basic competency with Mycenaean Greek. What I’m getting at is that we’re hardwired for Greek. Our first words were probably Greek, even if we’d never even heard the language before.

The problems start the minute you give us a not Greek language.

My brain takes one look at a sentence written in English and has a panic attack. Translation errors that come from being the child of a personified concept meant apostrophes were added out of nowhere, consonants shoved together and vowels repeated. Eventually, I end up with some bizarro language that probably predates Linear A Greek so much it's no longer technically Greek and is definitely worth an F on my book report.

It’s a Greek thing. Every kid at this summer camp has dyslexia. Some have it worse than others. Protogenoi kids have translation to human problems. Everyone else inherited that translation to human problem because their parents’ divinity was welded on.

The Titanborn are probably suffering bad in English class. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the children of Athena and Hermes had an easier time than the rest of us due to the Wisdom and Orators Domains their parents had respectively, but everyone had it.

If you meet a Norse demigod, chances are they can read English just fine.

Which was...

I mean, that was probably fair, honestly.

The Norse had their own problems.

“Seriously?” Luke muttered.

“Born...fluent?” Pollux puzzled as we watched Luke fish a pen out of his pocket and strike through the whole block with a thick blue line. “Were you blessed or something?”

“I - I don’t actually know?” Now that I thought about it, Apollo had been pretty surprised by that too. “I think it’s because she’s a creator goddess and even languages have a Fate.”

It’s normal for gods to be all kinds of broken within their Domains. For my mother, it’s her Domain that’s broken.

“Okay…” Luke moved to the next row. “How about your mythology?”

“Know ‘em.” I scraped up the last bits of my yogurt. These grapes were awesome, way better than store bought. “We focused on gods of the pantheon though, not the heroes.”

Athena already outlined Olympus’ lies. I was pretty sure those weren’t the only ones. If they are willing to lie about something as basic as Kronos fighting with Gaia's help, then they are willing to lie about anything.

The Five Ages of Man began with the Titan Lord’s reign. Aphrodite was whole. The Titan Lord was the Sky Father’s son and overthrew him with his brothers and the Earth’s help.

I told Athena I won’t say otherwise.

I won’t.

Poke enough holes in any deception and it will fall apart on its own.

Apollo taught me that.

“I could use a bit of a refresher,” I said with an innocent smile.

Luke immediately looked suspicious.

“It’s a book heavy course with tutors from Cabin 6,” he warned me. Cabin 6 was Athena, right? “We do use Greek texts, but don’t think you’ll be able to breeze through it.” I promised not to start a riot, but I don’t think he believed me. “So advanced, huh?”

He scratched his cheek with the top of his pen before giving the twins a long suffering look.

“Just put him with us.” Pollux rolled his eyes as Castor grinned.

“Annabeth has enough headaches as it is. She does not need to know about your dad’s attempts to get her mother drunk,” Luke deadpanned, but he sighed and made a note on the paper. “The whole mythology actually matters thing is still new to a lot of campers, so its either stick you with kids who’ve been here a long time or - ”

“Cabin Twelve!” Castor crowed.

We hashed out the rest of my schedule as breakfast wound down. Activities like learning how to track and horseback riding and canoeing were interspersed with chores like making lunch, maintaining armor and chopping wood. I will be the first to admit I was looking forward to monster killing class and archery, but making fireworks and learning the javelin did sound fun. Tomorrow I’d get my finalized schedule, but for today I was sticking with Cabin Twelve, Dionysus which meant wood chopping right after breakfast followed by cleaning out the stables.

Yay.

I followed the twins back towards the Big House. Our destination was the Arts and Crafts ‘building.’ It had four marble pillars, no walls, and a roof that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a museum on Ancient Greece. As we got closer I could make out other details. Old school looms were set up across from painting easels. Long tables covered in bits and bobs, baskets stuffed to bursting with spools of yarn, plastic bags holding buttons and zippers. There were shelves upon shelves of materials. Tinsel and glitter reflecting sunlight, rolls of stickers, jars of paint. There were a few kilns on the south side of the building along with a pile of chopped and unchopped wood.

“The Forge also uses wood for some work, but for the most part Cabin 9 have their…” Castor waved both of his hands. “Thing.”

“If they need wood, they get it from here, so we have to make sure there’s enough for the kilns, for carving and the Forge if they need it.” Pollux explained to me as he passed me an axe.

There are a few tricks to chopping wood I found out. Getting the angle right on uneven cylinders of dried wood, putting enough strength into the swing but not too much, eyeballing where the best split was.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” Pollux promised after my log pulled evasive maneuvers and dove off the stand with nothing but a chip in the bark for my efforts.

I wouldn’t call it back breaking work, but I definitely felt like the spoiled city kid swinging that axe under the morning sun. My cheesecake blizzard from Dairy Queen seemed like forever ago.

Oh shit, my cheesecake blizzard!

What was I going to do about this upcoming Friday? Should I pray to Mom about it? Was that dumb? What if she said no? Could Dad drop it off before it melts?

I might actually go into withdrawal this summer.

“Pops stayed with Ma to raise us,” Castor said out of the blue after a few more logs. “She had cancer.” I winced at the past tense. I had a feeling that was not because she was healed. I said it before, deaths caused by illness sucked. “He couldn’t do anything, because she had to go.”

I cringed.

She had to go.

A Fated End.

“...sorry,” I mumbled.

“No, that’s not - “ Castor exchanged a look with his brother.

“That’s not what he meant.” Pollux split his log in one smooth move. The twins didn’t look that strong, but you’d be surprised. Demigods are always stronger than they look. “The point is our father stayed to raise us. It’s Sunday, so Clovis won’t wake up until tomorrow because his pa visits him. Every three days, Alabaster and Liza get a polecat for the day. Lou and Moni get a puppy. Butch can make Iris messages for free. Twice a week, Fred is a member of Cabin 7.”

I waited, but apparently he was done. I had no idea why I was being given random facts about random campers.

Castor’s face scrunched.

“You see your ma a lot, right? Not your step-mom, your birth mother. The god.” Step-mom? Whatever. I nodded and he sighed. “We figured.”

“You know too much,” Pollux said seriously. He turned away to grab some more wood from the pile. “You’re not surprised, about anything.”

My breakfast gained fifty pounds in my stomach.

“Is that ...a problem?” I asked quietly. “You’re acting like it’s a problem.”

“Not for us,” Castor said bluntly. My stomach twisted at the thought that it was a problem for other campers. “Luke seems okay with you, but he remembers his pa walking out. Most of the campers here don’t even have that much. Some have a divine gift or two. Others were visited once or twice?”

“A lot have never seen their god parents at all.” Pollux shrugged, smiling sadly.

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. Not so random facts then. I pointed at them. “Dionysus. Clovis is Hypnos’?” The twins nodded. “Alabaster and Liza are Hecate’s.”

“Lou Ellen’s hers too, pretty sure. Along with Moni.” Pollux said.

“Okay. Butch is Iris’. Cabin 7?”

“Sun.” Castor split a log.

So Apollo saw his kids, at least. Good. He had a terrible taste in incognito names - Fred, really? - but that meant this Paladad wouldn't have to kick his Bardson's ass for being a deadbeat.

“And?” I prompted him, a tight feeling in my throat.

“Maybe there’s more?” Castor offered, looking at his brother as he leaned on his axe. “If their parents are raising them, they don’t have to come to Camp, ain’t it? Like the Hunters.”

“There’s an underwater camp somewhere,” Pollux mused. “That’s for water gods and their kids. That’s all we know of in Camp Half-Blood though,” he finished. “That’s - that’s it.”

“So...what?" I aksed, feeling sick. "The Camp is a - an orphanage?”

That’s why Annabeth offered to tell me about my mother. Because she thought the few mentions in mythology were all I had.

Oh hell.

Annabeth.

The easily embarrassed, impulsive, smart girl that took me on a tour around Camp with Luke.

Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena.

Castor and Pollux said nothing about Cabin 6. The few mentions in mythology were all she had.

I was starting to regret not hitting the woman when I had the chance.

It’s just -

Why?

They could be in multiple places at once by just using their Names!

I thought about Dad.

I thought about Mom never coming back.

I felt like the ground would swallow me whole.

“Yeah, we don’t - we didn’t understand it either,” Castor drew me out of my darkening thoughts with a careful nudge to the shoulder. “It’s not something you need to feel bad about, okay? Shitty parents aren’t your fault. Don’t feel guilty that yours care.”

I met Castor’s violet eyes. “Do you feel guilty?”

“Not anymore,” he said.

“Still do,” Pollux admitted quietly. “Sometimes. When there’s a new kid and no one Claims them.” He blew out a breath and his words sped up. “We’re not trying to protect you or nothin’, but we have a cabin to ourselves and kind of know what it’s like - “

“If we’d known about your ma, we would’ve cheated on the drawing lots.” Castor said with a mischievous smile. Pollux blushed, kicking at a log. “Protect, no. Poach, definitely.”

I snorted.

“Is it working?” Castor continued unrepentant.

“Yeah,” I said. It was. The twins were good people. Maybe even friends. “Thanks.” I made a show of looking the boys up and down. “And if you learn how to wear proper socks and sneakers, we might even be friends.”

I was hit with twin Pillsbury Doughboy smiles. Pollux wiggled his toes in his sandals.

“Our free time is right after lunch,” Pollux told me as he placed a log on his stand. “We share the slot with Cabin 7 and there’s this...okay, don’t laugh, but have you heard of Dungeons and Dragons?”

I nearly took out my own kneecap with the axe. “Have I heard of it?”

“It’s not terrible!” He protested immediately and I had to laugh. Dad was going to love this. Cabin 7 was Apollo, wasn’t it? Note to self: Get Dad to draw up some adoption papers for one Phoebus Apollo Stele. “I said don’t laugh!”

I swallowed my snickers as best I could and held out a hand. “Hi, I’m Percy Stele. I’m a Paladin!”

Equally shocked faces turned to face me, before the surprise melted into glee.

“Druid!” Castor yelled as Pollux grinned and said, “Cleric.”

“So Lee runs the game when Fred isn’t around,” they told me as we turned back to our logs. “We have no idea what we’re doing, but it's fun…”

The Arts and Crafts building slowly filled with campers. We watched them pull their projects off the shelves with obvious tenderness. It didn’t matter if it looked like it could be sold to a museum or a piece of garbage. It meant something to them. I started thinking about a project of my own. Something for my parents for being awesome. I set a log on my stand and adjusted my grip on my axe.

Maybe some custom dice.

I brought the axe down and with a satisfying chop, it split in two.

Wood Chopping: Check.

It was time for our second chore. I saw the winged horses my second day at Camp and couldn’t wait for the chance to ride them. But we weren’t riding them today.

Today we were picking up their shit.

Cleaning out the pegasi stables was a disaster.

It was nasty and smelled horrible and the horse-pigeons did not like me at all.

By the time I was done, the feeling was mutual.

Stable Cleaning: Check.

After taking a shower and ditching my clothes, it was time for the javelin toss.

I was right about tossing javelins around.

At first I had to sit through a lecture about safety from this bulky Ares’ kid which boiled down to ‘don’t throw spears at people’ and ‘don’t poke your eye out.’ I made all the right agreeing noises at the right places and soon enough I got to pick out a javelin.

My first throws were terrible.

No distance and no accuracy. After ten throws, my target stood proudly unmarked. The dirt all around it, not so much. Ryan pulled me back to the table after a bit and examined my hands.

“Nice calluses. Sword?” In answer, I pulled on the silver sword pendant of my necklace. Damocles flashed in the sunlight and he whistled. It really was a beautiful sword. It was leaf shaped similar to a Greek xiphos but with shallow curves in the middle. The thick center of the blade was bone white and layers were shaved away as you got to the silver-gold rippled edges. The cross guard was bowl shaped bronze with a long leather grip and a small bowl pommel facing the opposite direction. Strands of horse hair dangled from the hilt.

Ryan held out a hand.

“May I?” I handed it over after a moment. Ryan’s eyes closed and it was like he had a waking dream, his eyeballs shifting rapidly behind his eyelids. He came out of it frowning. “What’s this made of?”

“Bone.”

He blinked.

“Nice.” He handed it back and picked out a javelin from the table. At first, it looked like all the others, but when he handed it to me I could feel the difference. “Narrow leaf-shaped spear head.” He pointed out. “Different balance.”

I threw the spear.

It hit the target with a thunk. I pumped a fist in the air as my tutor nodded.

“Again.”

I was kind of right about tossing javelins around. The first fifteen minutes were great.

The next half hour?

Ugh.

Javelin Throwing: Check.

While breakfast and dinner was made completely by the nymphs at Camp Half-blood, lunch had the Campers pitch in to help. That meant it was the only variety in the menu ranging from sandwiches to flat bread pizzas.

Lunch today was a lentil stew that didn’t taste half bad.

Don’t tell my grandmother.

A few Campers were coaxed to join us at Table 12. Mr. D gave us all the hairy eyeball and grumbled the entire time, but he didn’t say no. His sons gave him megawatt smiles as we all thanked the Wine God loudly.

He opened a new can of Diet Coke and grumbled louder.

Lunch: Promising.

We didn’t have anything pressing to do after lunch.

With our stomachs full, we headed over to the shining gold cabin where my BardGrandchildren were setting up. I am...not sure why the set up included a guitar, bongos and a feather boa. After a round of introductions and a summary of the story so far, the ‘music guy’ Michael started playing dramatic guitar music.

When Castor and Pollux said they had no idea what they were doing on their D&D campaign, they Were. Not. Kidding.

It was more like they were playing through the idea of the campaign Keep on the Borderlands with a Player Handbook they tore a few pages out of before setting the rest on fire and flushing it down the toilet.

Everything ran on demigod logic, which meant lots of homebrew rules. Things like Wizards and Clerics not having to prepare spells, Bards can do anything they want, whenever they want, Katie Gardiner’s Monk was a god in disguise making saves against spells by flexing her muscles, you made Perception Checks by playing the Danger Bongos and don’t get me started on the animal companions. Monsters aren’t supposed to count!

It was basically ‘Whatever Rule of Cool You Can Convince Lee Of’ followed by ‘Hope Your Dice Aren’t Cursed’.

It was heresy.

It was awesome.

Free Time: Roll to Confirm Critical.

Greek mythology class was where things got a bit interesting.

Mom hadn’t been too interested in mortal heroes. I think it was just a little too small in scale for her, or maybe she didn’t want to set any expectations for me, good or bad. I knew I shared my first name with a demigod son of Zeus. My grandmother told me. The way Nana put it, he spent his heroing days sticking it to Poseidon. Killed his girlfriend Medusa, gave the Sea God’s rival Athena the head, saved a girl from the god’s monster, and lived happily ever after.

Being part of the advanced class meant you were thrown headfirst into genealogy studies led by Malcolm Pace, Son of Athena. It was all about the mortal heroes of Greek mythology and who was related to who, and who was king of what when and his family line, etc. I felt like I was in a college level course with a kindergartener’s understanding of physics. Thankfully, Malcolm was really good at reading my ‘Help me’ expressions. So when Perseus was mentioned, he made sure to tell me that he was a demigod of Zeus. He whose mother was seduced by a ...gold shower?

I squinted at my notes, but the words didn’t change.

Nana didn't mention that.

Like...is that supposed to be literal? Or...I mean, how does that - I don’t want to know how that works.

Oh God, now I was thinking about my parents.

I don’t want to know how that works!

“That’s not the worst of it,” Masayuki said under his breath, leaning slightly over. He was also one of Athena’s with the rare black hair but storm gray eyes like all of his siblings. “Myrmidon. The Sky Lord fathered him as an ant.”

Apparently the King of the Gods is all kinds of deranged.

“More proof Athena should have stayed King,” I muttered back. I didn’t think I said it that loudly, but the loud screech of a chair on wood flooring drew my attention up to Annabeth Chase standing in front of my desk and the rest of the class staring at me.

“What did you say?” She breathed.

“Uh,” I answered intelligently. I looked towards the twins for help, but they just looked back with identical wide eyed expressions. “More proof Athena should have stayed King?”

“Stayed king,” Malcolm said blankly from the front of the classroom. He was blond and gray eyed just like his sister. “That implies she was king.”

“When?” Annabeth demanded.

I held up a finger and closed my text book. The name of a human scholar danced mockingly in front of my eyes. The human records of Greek mythology got a lot wrong.

I had wondered what they were teaching demigods these days that they didn't know the personal sigil of my mother.

The answer was nothing.

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

So.

Okay.

“Where did Athena receive her Name of Apatouria, the Deceiver from?” I asked as a starter.

“From Aethra, mother of Theseus,” Annabeth answered immediately, beating her brothers by a few seconds if Malcolm’s exasperated eye roll and Masayuki’s open mouth meant anything. The twins of Dionysus hadn’t even tried, but they had identical expressions of concentration on their faces.

Theseus. That was the founder of Athens, right? We literally just went over that guy.

“And what did she do to be Given that Name?”

“Gave Aethra the plan to have Theseus by the Sea God in a dream.” Annabeth was on the ball again.

Well, more like a whoopie cushion.

Because wow.

Hearing it first hand was kind of surreal.

“And that’s a deed worthy of the title Deceiver?” I asked incredulously. “After all of Athena’s plans and guidance and insights? That’s what it takes?” Everyone had thinking caps on. I could almost see steam coming out of Annabeth’s ears. “It was a Given Name. There is power in it. You don’t get that by doing one mortal woman a favor and having her insult you?”

Remember my Vampire Slayer example? That story was the ‘killed two vamps yesterday and almost died’ kind of lame. You get a Name by either doing something a lot or doing something epic.

“Given Name?” Masayuki asked, pen poised over his notebook.

“Their epithets.” I shrugged. “Have you ever wondered how Apollo can drive the sun chariot and appear someplace else at the same time? It’s because his Phoebus Name is driving while God of - I don’t know - Medicine or something, Acesius is overseeing an operation at a hospital.”

“Avatars then,” Malcolm mused. I made an ‘eh’ rocking motion with my hand.

“Close enough.” I drew a crude tic tac toe board on my paper. “The more Names a Young god has, the stronger they are. They have more to draw on when they are whole and the more options they have. It’s a source of godly power. It’s earned.”

“What did she do?” Annabeth’s gray eyes bored into me like lasers.

“Fulfilled a Prophecy,” I said honestly. “And convinced everyone she didn’t.”

“Metis’ two children, girl then boy?” The girl asked, not even bothering with complete sentences any more, thinking furiously. I knew what she was referring to. 

Ouranos, the Voice of Heaven, told Zeus he would be overthrown by one of his kids by his wife, Metis.

“A very wise child was destined to be born of Metis. A warrior greater in strength than Zeus’ lightning bolt.” I tried to mimic my mother’s voice. It was a bit of an odd lilting sound. I really wasn’t any good at an Irish accent. “If the boy was the problem, why did Zeus swallow Metis before the girl was born?”

I shrugged, opening my text book again. “The Titan Lord did the same thing, right? Since when does fighting a Prophecy ever work?”

“Holy shit.” Masayuki sounded stunned. "She was king. When?"

“Remember when some mortal gods built the walls of Troy?” I threw out in response. I knew about that story of the rebels' punishment for failing to keep Zeus off the throne from Apollo. To this day, Poseidon still had that favor hanging over his head. Asshole king tried to cheat who he thought was a poor worker out of money, challenging him to build the city walls in a day with only his ‘friend’ the sheep herder for help. Luckily for a mortal Poseidon, his sheep herder friend was mortal Apollo.

And Apollo couldn’t stand sheep.

They were stubborn, stupid animals perfectly willing and able to off themselves at the first opportunity.

His words, not mine.

“You know about the Olympiomachy at least, right? When gods rebelled against Zeus?" I hoped. Thankfully, there were nods all around the room.

"It failed," Annabeth said.

"The revolt didn’t fail. It’s just that the new regime didn’t last.”

You could thank Hera for that one.

“It’s why Poseidon and Athena hate each other.” I explained. “Poseidon stood by her ascension and fought for her, and would have kept fighting for her right to keep it. He was willing to let the world burn for that, but the child of Metis was the king of gods and men.” I smiled weakly. “She wasn’t. They never forgave each other for it.”

She abdicated her Name Athena Olympios when her father retook his throne the same way he took it the first time.

By being an underhanded son of a bitch.

I guess the only reason mankind even knew about the revolt in the first place was the fact that building city walls in a day was not subtle, even if the details were lost.

Or lied about.

The Goddess of Wisdom had a bunch of Names for Good Governance, Sovereignty and the Welfare of Kings.

Had.

The Young gods could lose Names. They could give them up.

They could have them Taken.

“Oh my gods,” Annabeth whisper-screamed. "It wasn't because of Athens!?"

How much of their own history were the Campers just assuming was true?

“Why aren’t there any records of this?” Malcolm actually sounded heart broken.

“Wouldn’t be much of a deception if there was,” I said, feeling bad for him.

“How do you know this?” That was the first time Alabaster said anything all class. He was still in his corner, a translucent blue card shimmering on his desk. He had dark brown hair and bored green eyes. Well, not so bored looking now.

Pollux and Castor exchanged a look.

“His ma taught him,” Castor said. Everyone stopped at how hard his voice was. “Like Pops with us.”

“Did you know this?” Alabaster asked next. It sounded accusing.

“No,” Castor shrugged. “But he does say a lot of things were before his time. Some things he says don’t match the books, but the books say a lot of things so it didn’t matter?”

Pollux nodded thoughtfully. “Are there any...true books? Like a master record or something, Percy?”

“Mnemosyne’s library,” I volunteered. “That’s at Mount Othrys. Uh, Orphism gets a lot more right than it does wrong. The Underworld probably has some texts.” Dead people do tell tales. “He’s not a book, but if you can get Hypnos’ attention, he’ll tell you. My Mom also mentioned this one book that has everything, but it’s dangerous.”

As in, ‘you can find all of the Names of my mother in it’ dangerous. Hers and the Names of others, like the god behind the Night.

Names that could drive even a god mad.

“Mount Othrys,” Annabeth muttered to herself as she went back to her desk. “Titaness of Remembrance. God of Sleep. Orphism…”

Masayuki looked thoughtful. Alabaster looked angry. The twins looked determined and Malcolm looked like he was about to cry.

I did not think this through.

Greek Mythology: Derailed.

Canoe racing was next on the list.

I have never been in a canoe before and it was pretty nice. I didn’t set any records or anything, but I didn’t do too badly. I love water. Whether it was the beach or the water park or a river on a camping trip, I enjoyed it all.

It was similar enough to kayaking so I picked it up quickly. The naiads were new, but they just watched from afar. I was partnered with Pollux the whole time and we raced Castor. He lost all five times, and blamed his partner who was a bit of a wimpy looking guy from Aphrodite Cabin.

The sixth time, Castor and Aphrodite Cabin boy got into a fight and capsized.

Canoe Racing: Check.

We had archery next.

Music Guy Michael Yew was my tutor for this class. He fitted me with a bow and gave me some blunt arrows.

“Alright, so the stance you want to take is - “

I knocked an arrow and let it fly. With a puny thud, the blunt arrow smacked off the target. I frowned. I’m going to blame the balance of the blunted arrow for that. I turned back to my tutor who raised his eyebrows.

“Your dad taught me.”

Michael nodded and swapped out my arrows for real ones.

With the bows and arrows, the twins looked even more like cherubs. That illusion lasted right up until you heard the curses spewing out of their mouths.

Archery: Check.

The day wound down with some strawberry picking.

There are a few tricks for that too. You’ve got to pick by the stem, not by the fruit so you don’t damage it. Eyeballing bruised and rotting fruit was also a learning experience. Mainly learning that rotten strawberries will only show you their good side so that when you go to pick them, you get disgusting multicolored goop all over your fingers.

I’m sure the good ones tasted great, but when they go bad...

Blegh!

Strawberry Picking: Mixed Bag.

I spent my ‘free period’ before dinner down by the water.

The ocean was breathtaking here. The way the sunlight of the setting sun sparkled off the waves and the water lapping against the clean sand. The far horizon slowly pulling on its coat of many colors, readying itself for nightfall. I loved the Manhattan skyline, but there was something about seeing the smooth, glass like blue marble in the distance that settled my soul.

I flung out my left hand and pulled my backpack to me. I dug into one of the pockets for my phone. With my thumb, I rubbed the second large hieroglyph on the front.

“Clifford Randall.”

My phone vibrated. There was a soft high pitched static sound for a few seconds before Cliff adjusted the spell.

“Reminding you to fix that,” I said as a greeting. If anyone came across me on the beach, it looked like I was talking to myself with a small bronze tablet on my lap. While it would have been cool to see Cliff’s Labrador face, he was still working on it. “For the hundredth time.”

“Yeah, yeah.” There was a sound a lot like someone rubbing a cloth on a microphone. He was probably moving around. “I have no idea what’s causing that. Kills my ears. Whatever. I have, like, a dozen projects making me shed right now. It’s on the list.”

“And non-humans aren’t real Magicians, so you aren’t getting any help.” I guessed.

From what I know, human kids start learning how to be Magicians young and there’s this big Much Ado about being able to trace your bloodline back to the Pharaohs of Ancient Egypt. Cliff was only three years old, but I was convinced he was a genius. This phone was the work of a month anchoring a spell not meant to be anchored with only a few tips from a “real” Magician.

The Fall of Egypt fucked up a lot of their records. They preserved what they could, but it meant there was a lot left to re-discover. Magic included. Now convincing them that it was time to stop worrying about preservation in the twenty-first century was looking like the hard part.

Cliff sighed. “One of these days, I’m going to wrangle you into a Nome and let a Magician demonstrate how broken they are.”

“One of these days,” I agreed, smiling even though he couldn’t see it. A Nome was like Camp Half-Blood for Egyptians, if you’re curious. There’s one in Brooklyn! Wouldn’t really recommend trying to find it without a sponsor though. They’re pretty strict.

“Besides, Watching has gotten pretty interesting lately!” Cliff’s voice picked up with actual excitement. “It’s looking like someone’s waking up or paying attention again. Two hits of the same signature within twenty years!”

“Uh, isn’t that bad?”

“Absolutely!”

Sometimes I wondered about him. “As in apocalypse bad.”

“Only if we fuck up!” Cliff squealed like a preteen girl. “We’ve actually gotten some big names from the First flying in from Cairo trying to isolate who it is.”

“Planning on picking their brains?”

“You know me!” Cliff made his amused exhale rumble sound. “I’m seriously considering blowing off my finals for it.”

“You do that, your mom will skin you alive,” I warned him. Cliff’s mom was a Mastiff headed woman. Sweet as pie, really.

Also?

Terrifying as hell.

Cliff sighed again. “Might be worth.”

“Cliff.”

“Statistics, Percy.”

I snorted loudly and buried my toes deeper into the damp sand. My sneakers and socks were further up the beach behind me, safe from the water. I watched a waterfowl of some kind wing past me out over the water.

“That reminds me, I’m not going to be there Monday. Brunner let me take my exam early so I’m at summer camp now.”

Cliff paused.

“At...summer camp,” he repeated slowly. “The summer camp?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought - next year? “

“I know,” I said a bit moodily. “But Olympus found out about Mom and took me early.”

“That sucks, sorry man.”

“Yeah.”

“So you just got there this morning?”

“Friday evening,” I corrected him. “Good news is Mom - my birth mother, I mean - was able to claim me right away and - “

“Wait, wait, wait.” Each ‘wait’ got progressively more excited. “Wait. Friday evening. At the Greek Camp on Long Island? North shore, somewhere thereabouts?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you get claimed between the time of 6:30 to 7:00 PM?”

“Ye - es?”

“And you’re twelve!” Cliff said as if he had just solved a problem that had been bothering him for years. “The way the Duat breaks down around you - Great Ra, no wonder you made no sense!”

“...I feel so attacked right now.” Was all I could say.

“Be right back.” Cliff said quickly and the line went dead. The high pitched static sound came back.

Right.

Okay then.

I waited around for a few minutes, doing my best to tune the annoying sound out when the spell picked up noise again.

“Still with me?”

“Cliff, what’s going on?”

“Sec. Sir - “ And that came out quieter, almost muffled giving me the impression that whoever he was talking to hadn’t quite caught up to him yet. “Percy Stele, Greek demigod. Percy, I grabbed Houy.”

“He of the Flooded Toilets?” I quipped, just to beat down the jitters in my stomach.

I heard a man groan. “Randall.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Cliff’s...supervisor, I guess would be the word for him, cleared his throat awkwardly. “So you did get it working, I see.” He definitely sounded like how I imagined an Egyptian would sound like. Very educated with a medium sized stick up his butt. “Notes later.”

“Sir!”

“Now, Percy, was it?” 

“Yeah?”

“I - hold on,” There was a shuffling sound as Houy promptly lost the plot. “Why were you talking to a Greek?”

Well this was awkward.

“When I met him, he was being raised by a Celt, sir.”

That meant something to the Magician who sucked in a breath. “Ah, I see now. Percy, are you able to tell us the name of your godly parent?”

Am I able? 

What kind of question was that?

I glanced around the beach. I wasn’t the only one enjoying the beach front, unfortunately. It wasn’t like there were a lot of people around, but I also had no idea what kind of mood Mom would be in if I drew her attention. It might be just a flicker. It might not. And really, I didn’t need her attention like that right now.

“Would titles work?”

It probably would.

“That would be fine,” Houy said as if he expected it. With Ptolemy, there was a lot of exchange between the Greek and Egyptian pantheons, even though it all crashed and burned shortly after. The Greeks might be fine letting people believe lies about their own history, but that kind of thinking would go over like a lead balloon with an Egyptian.

“Uh, okay. The Great Serpent, Eater of the Bloody Tongues, The Beautiful One - “

“Yes, yes, that’s enough,” the Magician said in a strained tone of voice. “That is...quite enough.”

“That’s why we didn’t know which one,” Cliff interjected. “It’s using the Greek Name!”

Oh I get it.

“Mom has an Egyptian Name, doesn’t she?” The Magician made an ‘urk’ sound and Cliff started cracking up for some reason. “Uh, surprise? False alarm! Well not false exactly, but this is ‘mildly alarmed’ and not ‘end of the world’ alarm. No apocalypse is good right?”

“Percy,” Cliff wheezed. “Percy, can you, like, not?”

“What did I do now?” I demanded.

“Be born, apparently,” Cliff deadpanned. “You don’t do anything by halves. You’re not capable of it.”

“That’s called being awesome and I will not apologize for it.”

“I’ll have to inform the others, perhaps summon the Chief Lector,” Houy was mumbling to himself. “Every senior Magician must be recalled, perhaps a team dispatched to Amarna - Blessed Nile, this is a disaster!”

“Only if we fuck up!” Cliff said cheerfully.

“Randall!”

My dog-boy best friend tried to sober up. “Sorry, sir.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” I said before this Houy pulled all his hair out. Or maybe he was bald. He sounded bald. “She had me, she Claimed me. She doesn’t want the world to end. My Dad and I live in it. Simple.”

“No,” Houy said darkly. “The machinations of The Black Pharaoh are never simple.”

The Black Pharaoh.

Just the title alone sent a crawling shiver down my spine. I did not want to know what the Name would do.

“It’s not what you think,” I said quietly. I don’t think Houy was intending to scare me, but I really didn’t like the feeling of that title. Mom was Mom, right? Knowing all her Names was dangerous, because it drew her attention and not all of her Names were safe for mortals to witness. That was the reason why I only knew two of the multitudes.

To protect me from exposure.

“It’s not what you think,” I repeated. “She doesn’t want anything bad. She’s good people now. I promise.”

“Oh,” Houy said softly. “I hope so too.”

They’ll see.

I bet all their senior Magicians with their fancy magic spells are going to feel mighty stupid when nothing happens.

I didn’t feel much like talking after that and Cliff understood. I promised to call him at least once a week before hanging up. As soon as I did, I regretted letting him go, because now I was alone on a beach with a setting sun and the whirling of my own thoughts.

About Names.

About lost history, secrets, lies and more.

The Black Pharaoh.

You know something strange? Maybe I’m not special in this and it’s just me entertaining paranoid thoughts for no reason but…

I don’t know how my parents met.

By that I mean, how did Dorian Stele meet Ananke?

I know when The Mórrigan and I met Dad for the first time. It was after he was discharged from the psychiatric hospital. I was two and a half with a brand new stuffed tiger toy. Nana took the picture. I was sucking my thumb. Mom looked like she was about to burst into tears and the wonder on Dad’s face as he stared at me in her arms was heartbreaking.

My parents loved each other.

But…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Luke’s voice came from above me.

I craned my head back and there he was in his orange on black Camp Half-Blood long sleeve shirt and shorts.

“My parents,” I murmured. A complicated expression flickered over his face and I cringed. That was smart of me. Not. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Luke eyed me. “Did you make Hermes a piece of shit?”

I was suddenly very aware that I had never heard a camper use any of the Young Gods Names this entire day.

Only titles.

“Uh, no.”

Luke shrugged. “Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

I let out a breath. Lucky Luke is so cool about things like that. “Right…”

“So I heard from Cabin 6 that you made a bit of a mess in Greek mythology class.” Of course he did. “You promised no riots,” he said with a wide grin. “Mr. D just locked them all in their cabin. Satyrs are going to deliver food through the windows.”

I stared at him. “Are they rioting?”

“No,” he snorted. “They’re researching.”

That sounded even worse!

“Oh.”

He barked his laugh and held out a hand. I took it, allowing him to haul me to my feet.

“How was your first day at Camp?” He asked as I grabbed my sneakers. I got a curious look when I left my backpack where it was after putting my phone back into a pocket.

Thieves beware. This was cursed by a Celt and they know how to make you regret it.

“It was great! Well, the pegasi stables part not so much, but everything else.”

He clapped me on the back. “No one likes cleaning the stables. You get used to it.”

“I am going to be sore tomorrow, I can tell.”

“You get used to that too,” Luke said, completely unsympathetic. “Chiron gets back tomorrow evening from his house call and he might make a few adjustments to your schedule, but for now, I’ve got you bouncing between Cabin 6 and 12.”

“That works,” I shrugged. “Castor and Pollux are cool. Athena’s kids seem alright too.”

“Gotta say,” Luke began thoughtfully as the dinner horn sounded. “They’ve got me real curious what exactly you told them. Mind educating a poor ignorant soul?”

Well.” I thought for a minute. “How much do you know about godly Names?”

“Like...what they mean?”

Oh boy.

I launched into what was probably a rambling, confusing lecture because I’m not a professor and I’m not Mom, but I tried. It helped that Luke was a really good listener and by the time we reached the Dining Pavilion, he had a good enough understanding to start asking questions.

“They can lose Names?”

“Sure can. Take the Titan Hyperion, lord of light. His Domain is the passing of time by the light in the sky. He had Names of the Sun, Moon and the Dawn.”

“But Apollo has the Sun and Artemis the Moon now,” Luke caught on immediately.

“Yeah, those Names are gone. He still has his Domain, but all that extra power?” I fluttered a hand over my hand. Poof. “It’s the same for everyone that had Names of that same type. Eos, Oceanus, even Rhea, but not sure she cares. It all belongs to the Twins now, on top of their inheritance from Helios and Selene.”

Luke nodded slowly. “Can Names be Taken?”

I felt my nose wrinkle. “Yeah. Ever seen a documentary on zombie ants?”

Luke joined me and the twins at Table 12 with a few of the younger Cabin 11 members and a sincere thanks to the ever-grumpy Mr. D for his benevolence. That got him a ‘whatever Larry’ but we’ll take it!

After dinner I learned the basics of how to maintain armor, but since I was a total newb, I was stuck on polishing shields duty. After that was the Sing Along with Cabin 7 where I didn’t know any of the words, but enjoyed myself anyway. I called Dad when I got back to my room in the Big House and he really did seem better. I told him all about my day and as I went to bed, I realized that I was looking forward to tomorrow.

And maybe the days after that, all the way until I had to go home again to get ready for another year at Trinity School.

I sent Mom a quick prayer, reminding her about her cross-pantheon violation ticket and got back a very amused response. She sent a super mild rebuke for being a cheeky little shit. It was followed by a feeling of reassurance and then a gentle nudge. It felt like ‘good night.’

I put my sunglasses on my nightstand and wiped a few stubborn tears from my eyes.

My parents loved me.

That thought kept me warm for the next three weeks of Camp activities and chores and BBQ dinners. I could safely say that I had friends at Camp Half-Blood. Chiron was my old Latin teacher Charles Brunner and the one who reported my Mom like an asshole. Grover apologized for bringing me to Olympus’ attention in the first place, even though he was surprised that my scent had strengthened so much after I was Claimed. And I got used to random Campers, mostly of Cabin 6, asking me random questions about mythology.

I let my worries fade into the back of my mind.

Then one day, I woke up to the crack of angry thunder and I felt a pull towards a certain aluminum case in my backpack filled with Mythomagic cards.

And I realized that in the life of a demigod, nothing good lasts.

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