Hi there! This is my first story, hope you enjoy it! I just want to add that I've never been to America in my life, so please forgive any inaccuracies (I hope you write it like that), please review, thank you for reading!

PS: Percy Jackson's world belongs to Rick Riordan, obviously not to me, or I wouldn't be writing on this website :)

Story of a Half Blood, Horatio Evans, from 1865 landing in today's camp hlaf blood.

I'll just rate this T because I'm paranoid.

Chapter 1

This was bad. Really bad. Horatio Evans was running through London in 1865 with a troop of angry policemen at his trail. They had accused him of murder, but it really was just one big misunderstanding.

Still, he continued running, rain was pouring down on him, making it hard to see more than a few meters ahead of him. His white shirt and waistcoat were soaked, his shoes splashed in the mud.

He could hear the men shouting behind him, they were fast. And they had weapons.

"Bloody hell." He cursed under his breath. "This'll end badly."

His red blonde hair was glued to his front head, his green eyes filled with fear. If he got cached, they would execute him, and that was not an option.

And then he stumbled, and he knew he was dead.

He woke up to bright sun light, he felt warm. It took him a few moments to remember what had happened, and realization dawned on him that they had gotten hold of him.

I sat up so quick his head started spinning.

He wasn't in a dungeon as he had expected; he was in a large room with a lot of beds, cabinets filled with small bottles and boxes, all labeled with weird names. He himself was in one of the beds, covered with a blanked. He frowned and stood up. There wasn't anyone else in the room. He was surprised to see that his shoes were missing, but he soon found them next to the bed. So he put them on and wondered where he had been put. Maybe they had realized he hadn't killed anybody? Maybe this was a hospital or something where he had been brought because he had hit his head to hard when had fallen?

His thoughts were disturbed by the door opening, and a girl about his own age walking in. She didn't look like the young woman he was used to see, she was wearing men's clothes, blue trousers and an orange shirt with short sleeves, her curly blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she looked … well, clean, was what came to mind for lack of a better word. She obviously wasn't an aristocrat or a noble, maybe she was the daughter of a working family like himself. But she was so clean! No one as poor as to wear men clothes was so clean! Well, maybe she came from another country; he had heard that in China women wore pants where you could even see the ankles. He frowned at that thought; she didn't look like a girl from the east of Asia either.

She stopped in the door frame when she saw him. Then she smiled at him.

"You woke up! Finally, I was getting afraid." She had a funny accent he didn't recognize, she didn't come from England, that was for sure, maybe she was from America, well, he had heard a lot of weird stuff from that continent.

"Excuse me Miss," He said. "But where am I?" He asked politely, trying not to stare or seem rude. She blushed when he called her 'Miss'.

"Oh, you can call me Lily, Lily Smith, and you're in camp half-blood."

"Well, um, Miss Smith, where is this camp if I may ask?"

"Oh, New York. And just call me Lily, no need for the Miss."

He almost chocked when she had told him where they were, but when she suggested that he should call her by her first name …

"I could … I could never! Miss Smith, it would be highly inappropriate to address you by your first name." He said, blushing red.

She looked at him funny. "Did you hit your head?" She asked, amused. "I don't know where you come from, but here it is entirely fine to address others by their first name if they aren't too old."

He frowned. "Still, I would prefer to call you Miss Smith." He huffed. "How long have I been gone for me to have traveled all the way to the United States?" He asked after a while. She made big eyes at that.

"Oh, um, really, I have no idea, you came here yesterday morning, why, where are you from?"

"London." He answered. "And my name is Evans, Horatio Evans."

She nodded. "Well, Horatio, better get you to Chiron, he'll know what to do."

His jaw dropped open when she used his first name, but he didn't say anything, that would be rude.

Chiron looked the boy up and down, he was wearing very old fashioned clothes, he stood straighter than the normal sixteen year old, his hair was red and blonde, his eyes dark blue, he was pale too, as if he didn't go out much, and he was abnormally polite.

Chiron was sitting in his wheel chair, and he noticed how baffled he was by the thing, but he didn't ask anything about it. Instead he said hello politely, bowing slightly to the man.

"So, child, what's your name?"

"Evans, Horatio Evans." He said.

"And you say you're from London?"

He nodded again. His hands were in his back.

"And you have no idea how you came here?"

"No sir, I just remember falling to the ground." He left out the part where was being chased by the police. Chiron nodded.

"What day was that?" He asked. Horatio tipped his head to one side and thought about it. "It was the ninth December, sir."

Both Chiron and Lily stared at him. It was now the middle of the summer.

"Of what year?" Chiron asked. Horatio looked at him surprised.

"Why, 1865, of course." He said.

Lily's mouth dropped open and then she started to laugh hard.

"1865!" She gasped between fits of laughter, "That's the best thing I've heard in days!"

Horatio frowned at her reaction and then looked at Chiron who was still staring at him.

"Is she quiet alright?" He asked slowly. Chiron didn't react. "Sir?"

Chiron snapped back to reality. "She'll be fine, child, now-"

He was cut short by Horatio's "Bloody Hell!"

They were in Mr. D's office, which he wasn't using since he was on some sort of short trip, and on the wall hand a TV. Horatio had of course wondered why they had a black painting on the wall, but hadn't asked any questions. But it had suddenly been turned on, to reveal the image of Dionysus standing in a bright room that looked much like Olympus.

Horatio backed of so quickly that he stumbled over his own feet and fell to the ground. He didn't make anything to come back to his feet, just stared at the guy in the TV.

"How did he get up there?" Horatio cried, staring at the bored Mr. D.

"Hey, Chiron, who's the kid? And why is he screaming like that?" Mr. D asked in an annoyed tone, he was scratching his head and didn't look too happy. "Anyway, don't care. We had a little problem up here, but I'll be back by tomorrow. See ya!" And the TV went black.

"What was that?" Horatio cried. "What the bloody hell was that?"

Lily had stopped laughing and stared at the terrified boy on the ground.

"Do you think he's insane?" Lily asked after a while. Chiron shrugged.

"I don't know, but you better keep him away from anything too modern."