A/N: Yup, moved on to Heroes of Olympus and Ellen has some more pieces to put together. Published in the spirit of thanksgiving because I'm thankful for all your reviews, favorites and follows! Warnings for subtle ableism on Ellen's part.

Guest: Glad you like it. I could update faster but the updates wouldn't be as good. Quality over quantity.

Part 11

Reports of strange natural disasters played on the many display TVs as I shopped for school supplies. The last time strange things had happened, they'd led up to the worst night of my life. And now? Terrible earthquakes in Alaska. Weird destruction in California. The Mediterranean was getting more of the same and if so it should stay over there. But it wasn't. The ripples of an earthquake rocked New York again, triggering flashbacks to the last natural disaster. By the prickling of my thumbs, something wicked this way was coming, and the wait was driving me crazy.

A person appeared in my path. I stopped my cart, sending school supplies clattering. "Oh, sor—Percy?"

The handsome young man I'd nearly run over was, in fact, the missing and presumably dead Percy Jackson. A little taller, traded his baby fat for adult muscle and the puberty gods had answered his prayers for the price of few more scars.

But not dead. No moaning or pasty skin. He hauled a cart full of school stuff as normal as me.

"That kid who set the school on fire…"

I was unpleasantly reminded of a certain book series. When I re-focused on him, he was giving me a puzzled look. Maybe because of my episode. "Yeah." Or maybe he knew me from somewhere but couldn't quite peg me. "Ellen?"

"Yeah," I said. "You were dead." Stupid mouth.

He smirked, but it was a sharper, darker look than normal, "Not yet. Kidnapped and stuff but not dead."

"We all thought…the whole school," And Mr. Blofis and Sally hadn't heard a word from him in months, "Where the hell have you been?"

Did I really want to know?

He shrugged and I could see the walls closing up around him. Someone stepped out from behind him—woah, he hadn't been there a second ago—and spoke flatly, "He's been around."

Silence descended as Percy bowed his head and tried to calm his breathing in a way that was painfully familiar. I turned my attention to Creepy Goth Guy, though I couldn't remember his name. As a kid, he'd been unsettling, even uncanny and age had only made him taller, skinnier and creepier. He was wearing black, though with a splash of color on his shirt this time. It read Camp Half-Blood, the first two words in bone-white lettering and the last dripping red.

Cheery guy.

Finally, Percy returned to reality and gave me a splintered smile. "Like Nico said, here and there."

Nico—a son of Hades.

After reading the first four books, between the Greek Camp Half-Blood to Percy fighting a Greek vampire who set Goode High school on fire, the seed of suspicion couldn't stay dormant anymore. Meeting Percy and his friend Nico again raised it to new heights. Percy Jackson had one friend in school—

Rachael Elizabeth Dare…You can see through the Mist

—Never shared anything, was allergic to technology and had dyslexia and ADHD. "So you going back to school?" I changed the subject and glanced at Nico who was a little creepier than any guy had any right to be—no matter how much black they wore. "And are you starting Goode too?"

Percy nodded, "Lots to catch up on but they'll give me some tests to take over winter break and if I pass them its back to my regular class. Nico won't have to do as much, lucky guy had tutors." Percy nudged him.

Nico ducked his head slightly and shuffled away awkwardly before composing himself, "Not certain how helpful those teachings will be in mor—Goode High."

"Well, I'm sure you'll do fine. Better than Percy anyway." He had missed most of the school year and he was gonna make it all up in four months? I wouldn't have a prayer of doing that. No way. "Good luck with your year."

"Thanks. Same with you. I'd better get this stuff checked out so I can get back to studying. See you in school."

He looked like he'd already been studying so hard he'd worn himself to the bone—if that's all it was—but I didn't try to stop him. I had some reading to do. My insides churned at the thought but curiosity was stronger than fear. I needed to know.

If you feel something stirring inside—stop reading immediately.

I didn't hold out much hope for Percy. In the world of academia, reading and writing quickly was what mattered, not whatever skills he might have. Doubt he honed schooling while kidnapped. But, he was determined because anytime anyone saw him, it was buried up to his eyeballs in studying. Just like today, where he sat in his usual spot (which had been cleared for him once more) with lunch on one side, surrounded by Book-henge and his usual entourage. Minus Nico di Angelo, who had a different lunch period.

Tomson strode up with a swagger. A whole year without Percy Jackson, a growth spurt of six inches and a hundred pounds had swollen the bully's ego back to bloated normalcy. A couple of people hesitantly helping Percy with his assignment slunk back as the larger boy's shadow enveloped them. He slammed both meaty hands on the table with a thud that caught everyone's attention—except the teachers—and loomed over Percy.

No reaction.

"Hey Jackson," he smirked nastily at the others who were nudging away from Percy now, "Looks like hanging out with the geeks turned you into one."

"Must be contagious," Percy said. "Better stay away."

Shawn laughed. "Nah, I'll do you a favor." He grabbed for the notebook Percy was writing on.

His fingers never touched it. Percy never touched him. Maybe Tomson had the height and weight (and ego) on his old nemesis, but in that missing year Jackson had gained something more. He looked up and glared. Just glared. Our resident bully reeled away like the man had laid him out flat.

I'm glad no one looked at me like that.

Tomson left without the flimsiest excuses to everyone watching and people started crowding around Percy again. One of them hesitantly began explaining a passage the man had been stuck on. I heard a soft, "Thanks," from that direction.

The next day, Tomson switched seats to the furthest corner of the cafeteria, as far from Percy Jackson as possible.

"About time," Daniel said. "Think he's gonna try picking on the other new kid? Nico di Angelo." The expression on his face said he wanted to watch when it happened, and immortalize the results in video.

"No one picks on that new kid," Chelsea said. "Fresh meat he's not. And nobody's heard nothing about where he was or what he's done before coming here."

"Oh come on, look at what everyone said about Percy, but he's alright," Becca said. "Give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt." In a lower voice, she added, "I think Percy's his only friend here."

Daniel smiled again, blatantly secretive. "I'm certain he has other friends, probably from a summer camp nearby. Hey Ellen, you done with the series yet?"

"With all your bugging it's a miracle she's gotten past the first book," said Chelsea.

"He just wants someone else to geek out and share all his nerdy theories with," Becca said. "He doesn't realize some people have lives beyond the Percy Jackson series."

"No we don't," Daniel said ominously. "None of us do. Some of us just haven't realized it."

Chelsea and Becca laughed, but I stayed silent. Had Daniel guessed what I was still coming to terms with? Or was he only joking? It was a hint, one of many, that I should have put the series aside. The more I read, the more the book's opening sounded less a childish attempt to be serious and more like a real warning.

The books painted a very damning puzzle piece that so neatly slotted in the great gap of Percy's life, that explained so many weird things. Weird things I knew existed. Weird things that were happening again. So, after school, in the comfort of my bedroom, I dove head-first into the last half of the last book. The final battle.

"Cracks appeared in the road, the sidewalk, the sides of the buildings…"

Sweat broke out from every pore. My pulse hyperventilated, remembering asphalt rent in two, swallowing a dead body too young for their stomach churned, and I had to force myself to read further. It could have been the author mixing reality with fantasy, the book hadn't been published until after The Storm.

"As the dead soldiers formed up ranks with their guns and swords and spears, an enormous chariot roared…"

But I hadn't just remembered a storm. The war horn's cry resounded in my ears, an echo from memory. The pages of The Last Olympian slipped from my fingers and spilled open on the scene I could never forget. Horses fashioned from darkness. The demons. Chariot decorated with scenes of painful death. Yes, a chariot. That was what I had seen, what I could see now in my mind's eye, like no modern construction, but an ancient tank.

I shut the book but not before catching another fragment…Hades himself, Lord of the Dead.

The Devil.

Nausea curdled every cell in my body. That book, those descriptions, made me physically sick. The memory of that thing I now had a name for made my skin bristle with cold even on the warmth of my bed. Hades, lord of the dead. It all made too much sense. What I'd seen hadn't been a dream or the aftershock of a natural disaster or a mortal battle. I couldn't make myself believe that. "Stop." I shoved the book away. But it made horrible, perverse, perfect sense.

I stopped reading then and locked the final book in my backpack to take over to Daniel's. But I couldn't pretend anymore. I'd stopped too late.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving everyone and hope you enjoyed!