In the dark, the house kinda creeped me out. It loomed tall, and seemed to be leaning over slightly, as if it was crouching, getting ready to spring.
OK, am I going nuts?
I followed Percy onto the porch of the house, up to an ornate oak door. The wood panels were filled with intricate carvings, depicting epic battles between heroes and monsters. In one, a boy was facing off against a giant with snakes for hair. Someone had chipped in a speech bubble above the boy's head, with the words 'Come at me bro', which probably wasn't totally faithful to the original Ancient Greek version.
Percy raised his hand to knock on the door, then stopped. He turned to me.
'Just so you don't freak out' he said, as if the idea seemed ridiculous, 'but the camp director is a centaur.'
'What?'
Without any further explanation, Percy knocked – three short knocks, followed by two fast ones, and then a final loud rap.
'Is there a special code?' I asked.
'Nah' Percy replied. 'I just like annoying Mr D.'
'Who?'
'Mr D. He's technically the head of the camp, but it's Chiron who actually does all the work. Mr D mainly just drinks coke, plays pinochle, and dresses badly.'
I didn't know what to say to that.
Finally I went with, 'Thanks for the heads up.'
'No problem bro' Percy replied. 'But don't worry; everything will be fine. Probably.'
'Probably?' I asked.
'Well, there's like a 95% chance of it being fine. Or is that 25%? I always sucked at math…' Percy trailed off as the door swung open.
'Peter Johnson' came an irritated voice from the shadows of the house's interior. 'I should have guessed.'
'Sorry 'bout this Castor…' Percy murmured to me under his breath. 'But you're about to meet Mr D.'
The person who the voice belonged to stepped out into the light of the porch. I was almost blinded by the brightness of his garish Hawaiian shirt. Even in the middle of the night, its lime green and canary yellow patterns had the strength to burn my retinas. The guy had a serious paunch, which made his shirt bulge outwards, and he sported an impressive beard. He looked like a frat guy who'd fallen asleep in Cancun on Spring Break and woken up about fifty years later.
Mr D narrowed his eyes at us.
'What do you want? I was trying to binge watch The Walking Dead. I'm way behind, and I don't someone letting slip a spoiler before I've seen it all.'
'Mr D' Percy said, stepping forward. 'This is Castor Orr. He's the new demi-god I was assigned to retrieve. We need to see Chiron.'
'Nice to meet you' I said, proffering my hand to Mr D. He looked at it like I'd just offered him a slab of rotting ham.
'I'm afraid Chiron is indisposed' Mr D told Percy. He didn't sound particularly upset about it. 'He left Camp not long after you did, and he has yet to return.'
Percy frowned.
'Where'd he go?' Percy asked. 'He didn't tell me was leaving.'
Mr D raised his scraggly eyebrows in mock surprise.
'You mean to tell me he didn't consult with you before deciding to go somewhere? I'm appalled. How could he dream of doing anything without the permission of the Perry Johansson, demi-god extraordinaire?'
This guy's level of sarcasm of seriously off the charts. And I thought I was good.
Percy let out a deep breath.
'OK, OK' Percy said. 'But Castor still needs the orientation. I've done my best to explain, but I don't think I exactly nailed it.'
'I expect you did the exact opposite of nailing it' Mr D said, sounding extremely bored. 'I guess it comes down to me to give the boy a run through. Once again, I am the only one to do any work in this dump…'
Mr D trailed off and looked up at the sky.
'You hear that?' he called up to the dark clouds overhead. 'I'm doing a GREAT job, as usual.'
The sky didn't reply. I looked at Percy and raised an eyebrow. We had a quick, silent conversation.
Me: Dude, what is up with this guy?
Percy: You don't wanna know.
Me (jerking my head in his direction): Is he safe to go with?
Percy (nodding): You'll be fine. I'll be here when you get back. Good luck, man.
Mr D curled his lip.
'That will be all, Mr Johnson. I'll take it from here. Come on, Mr Orr, let's get this over with.'
Hold on, why did he get MY name right?
Percy gave me thumbs up as I followed Mr D into the house. As soon as I stepped over the threshold, the door slammed shut on its own.
I swallowed.
It was probably just the wind. Yeah, definitely the wind.
It was gloomy inside. I saw a stairway snaking upwards to the higher floors. In front of me stretched a hall, with doors leading off it, until the whole thing receded into darkness and I couldn't make anything else out.
'Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.'
I jumped. Mr D had somehow materialised behind me.
'Uh, thanks' I replied nervously.
I'm not gonna lie – I was scared of the guy. I've always been a good reader of people – a kind of knack for being able to assess someone's real character pretty quickly. It's kept me out of a lot of fights over the years.
And while on the surface Mr D looked pretty ridiculous, the way the light danced in his eyes gave him a… a frenzied look. It was the look of someone with no self-control, who enjoyed crossing boundaries so much that they weren't even sure where the line was anymore. You know what I mean – every school has that one kid who keeps pushing and pushing until eventually they do something insane like drive their car into the principal's office. From what I could tell, Mr D was that kid – except about a hundred times crazier.
Mr D led me to a room which was kitted out with a pretty mean home cinema. After telling me that if I made one noise during the movie he'd turn me into a dolphin – to which I did not know how to reply, so I decided on wisely just shutting up – Mr D switched on a movie.
It was pretty nuts. I mean, the production quality was pretty bad and thing had about as much chance of winning an Oscar as I had on scoring with Scarlett Johansson, but its actual content blew my mind.
It covered basically the same stuff that Percy had already told me. The Greek gods were still a thing – who knew? They moved to where Western civilization was strongest, which was now apparently the top of the Empire State Building in New York.
According to the movie, when a god and a mortal loved each other very much, they would have affairs, the product of which were kids like me: half-god, half-human hybrids. Camp Half-Blood was the only place we were safe.
The film ended, and Mr D switched on the lights. He was munching on a giant tub of popcorn and sipping on a diet Coke. He didn't offer me any.
'Any questions?' he asked, in a voice that made it clear I better not have any questions if I knew what was good for me.
'Yeah' I answered. 'What does Mr D stand for?'
Mr D looked at me for a second, then shrugged.
'Dionysius.'
I gawped.
'Like, the wine god? You're the wine god?'
Mr D glared.
'I am the deity of a whole range of things, Mr Orr. You should hope that wine is the only item of mine you ever encounter.'
'But' I said, still confused. 'You're telling me you're a god? Seriously? Shouldn't you be up in the sky, eating grapes off a floating cloud or something?'
The lights in the room sputtered and dimmed. I gripped my seat tighter. In front of me, Mr D's form flickered in and out, like static on a bad TV set. I saw glimpses of a handsome man in a wreath of vines. Around him, suddenly I could see pale visions of men and women writhing on the ground, their faces enraptured in either pain or ecstasy. They were pulling at their own hair, ripping it out, their eyes wild and manic. Mr D spoke again, this time his voice growling like an animals.
'I AM A GOD. I AM THE GOD OF MADNESS AND ECASTY. I CAN MAKE YOUR MIND NO LONGER YOUR OWN. I CAN FORCE YOUR BODY TO BETRAY YOU. AND IT IS MY PUNISHMENT TO SPEND YEARS HERE LISTENING TO DEMI-GOD HALF-WITS LIKE YOU, CASTOR ORR.'
I tried shielding my eyes, but I couldn't block it out. It was like the images and sounds were being injected straight into my brain.
Suddenly, it all stopped. The room was calm again. I looked up, panting, to find Mr D nonchalantly sipping on other can of soda, as if nothing had happened.
He nodded towards the door.
'You may go.'
