Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or any of the characters I didn't make up. Don't sue me my Dad is a lawyer.
Warning: May include references to the Red Pyramid
Destiny Warped
Chapter 1
My name is Debra Pierce and recently my life has gone from hiectic to
completely out of control. It all started in December . I was laying on the floor in my father's room while he slowly and methodically folded his clothes into a large beat-up suitcase. I looked down at the paper in front of me and sighed. I was upset not just because it seemed like an assignment was for eight year olds but also because I wouldn't be able to complete it. In American History class we were doing a segment on genealogy and we had to chart our families back seven generations. I could not do it, it was impossible. I sighed again.
"Dad I'll just not hand it in. Say I didn't feel like doing it. Okay?"
"No! Something is better than nothing just don't do it well. I don't expect you to write the truth, it's okay. I just wish things didn't have to be this complicated".
What was the problem? Well my father never knew his mother. From what his father had told him, she was a young divorcee who loved to talk about the daughter she only saw in the spring and summer. It had been a whirl-wind romance when my grandfather was only 29. He had wanted to be serious but she disapeared and dropped a baby, my father, on his doorstep. It got worse, eight years later my grandfather was mauled to death by bears while on a camping trip. His half-sister, Marie, took Dad in and raised him with barely any money and a helpful scholarship to a summer camp. When my dad was 21 she died in a gruesome fall of a cliff. As for my mother she was an Ancient Egyptian expert at Princeton University, New Jersey. When my dad met her she had been a grad student on an archaeological dig while my father was touring ancient sites with his best friend, Drew Landrey. Six months later they were honeymooning in Bermuda with Mr. Landrey as official photographer. My grandparents had hated Dad from the moment they met him and refused to have anything to do with him for the rest of their lives, Dad never said why; so I never met them. Six years later she died of breast cancer and her parents didn't even come to the funeral.
I jerked back to the present, when I realized my father had said something.
"Ah, what did you just say?" I asked in my normal sleepy voice. Dad pulled off his polo shirt revealing the long crooked scar that streched across his chest. I'd never had the courage to ask what it was from. He pulled on a stain covered t-shirt and turned to me.
" Do you want to watch Nosferatu or not?"(1)
"Oh, yeah this going to be crazy", I said with a smile.
"You do realize it's a silent film, right?", Dad sighed at me as he turned to leave. I didn't reply, I usually don't bother to answer questions; a trick I learned from my father.
…
The next day, Dad collected his carefully arranged supplies and lugged them out to his beat-up Tahoe. Yes, almost all our stuff is beat-up. We use it a lot and we're not very careful. Dad was leaving for four days to Los Angeles on a business trip for his recently deceased client, the late Mr. Burbank. My father, a graduate of Harvard Law, was mostly involved in maintaining the wills and estates of mildly delusional billionares and now had to convince the Burbanks that their father had left six million dollars to his three cats. The strange thing was that Landrey, an expert carpenter and locksmith, was coming with him. For about the millionth time I wondered if my father was who he said he was.
Nosferatu is supposed to be "vampire" in Ancient Greek but linguists think Bram Stoker actually made it up. It is a German Impressionist silent film more acurate to Stoker's masterpiece than the movie Dracula though Mrs. Stoker was never paid even when she tried stop the production. Just in case you were wondering.
Please Review and tell me what you think is happening.