Warning: Certain ancient Greeknames matches words use of foul language but no foul language was intentionally used. Also if you haven't read them yet read 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Early Adventures' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Titan's Curse' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Magical Labyrinth' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Stolen Chariot' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Sword of Hades', 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Bronze Dragon' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Olympians: The Last Olympian' 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon & the Staff of Hermes' 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Lost Hero' and 'The Tales of the Heroes of Olympus: The Quest for Buford' before reading this story as stuff that happened in them will be mentioned. Lastly, any one who wants to do a Demigods and Olympian reads story using 'The Tales of the Son of Poseidon' is allowed as long as you inform me about it.

A/N (I recommend reading this): I'm going to MAKE THIS CLEAR. Just like I mention on my bio page about every other fanfiction I done: I DON'T OWN THE PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIAN SERIES OR IT'S CHARACTERS as the rights goes to Rick Rioran. Also I suggest you guys start paying attention to the Author notes and my warnings that I left on EVERY chapter of EVERY story.

Keep in mind it would be hard to be original with Hazel's and Frank's Flashbacks in this story. Sorry if this chapter is too much like the book

Frank's POV Part XI

One look out the window, and I knew I was in trouble.

At the edge of the lawn, the Laistrygonians were stacking bronze cannonballs. Their skin gleamed red. Their shaggy hair, tattoos, and claws didn't look any prettier in the morning light.

Some carried clubs or spears. A few confused ogres carried surfboards, like they'd shown up at the wrong party. All of them were in a festive mood—giving each other high fives, tying plastic bibs around their necks, breaking out the knives and forks. One ogre had fired up a portable barbecue and was dancing in an apron that said KISS THE COOK.

The scene would've been almost funny, except I knew I was the main course.

"I've sent your friends to the attic," Grandmother said. "You can join them when we're done."

"The attic?" I turned. "You told me I could never go in there."

"That's because we keep weapons in the attic, silly boy. Do you think this is the first time monsters have attacked our family?"

"Weapons," I grumbled. "Right. I've never handled weapons before."

Grandmother's nostrils flared. "Was that sarcasm, Fai Zhang?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Good. There may be hope for you yet. Now, sit. You must eat."

She waved her hand at the nightstand, where someone had set a glass of orange juice and a plate of poached eggs and bacon on toast—my favorite breakfast.

Despite my troubles, I suddenly felt hungry. I looked at Grandmother in astonishment. "Did you—"

"Make your breakfast? By Buddha's monkey, of course not! And it wasn't the house staff. Too dangerous for them here. No, your girlfriend Hazel made that for you. And brought you a blanket and pillow last night. And picked out some clean clothes for you in your bedroom. By the way, you should shower. You smelled like burning horse hair."

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish. I couldn't make sounds come out. Hazel had done all that for me? I was sure that I'd destroyed any chance with her last night when I summoned Gray.

"She's… um… she's not—"

"Not your girlfriend?" Grandmother guessed. "Well, she should be, you dolt! Don't let her get away. You need strong women in your life, if you haven't noticed. I also met your other friend—the son of Neptune. If you asked me, he needs a strong willed woman in his life too."

"He has a girlfriend," I stated although I had no clue if she's anything that my Grandmother suggested.

"He told me the same thing," Grandmother said. "Now, to business."

I ate while Grandmother gave me a sort of military briefing. In the daylight, her skin was so translucent, her veins seemed to glow. Her breathing sounded like a crackly paper bag inflating and deflating, but she spoke with firmness and clarity.

She explained that the ogres had been surrounding the house for three days, waiting for me to show up.

"They want to cook you and eat you," she said distastefully, "which is ridiculous. You'd taste terrible."

"Thank you, Grandmother."

She nodded. "I admit; I was somewhat pleased when they said you were coming back. I am glad to see you one last time, even if your clothes are dirty and you need a haircut. Is this how you represent your family?"

"I've been a little busy, Grandmother." Which is true. With the quest how am I supposed to present myself.

"No excuse for sloppiness. At any rate, your friends have slept and eaten. They are taking stock of the weapons in the attic. I told them you would be along shortly, but there are too many ogres to fend off for long. We must speak of your escape plan. Look in my nightstand."

I opened the drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope.

"You know the airfield at the end of the park?" Grandmother asked. "Could you find it again?"

I nodded mutely. It was about three miles to the north, down the main road through the canyon. Grandmother had taken me there sometimes when she would charter planes to bring special shipments from China.

"There is a pilot standing by to leave at a moment's notice," Grandmother said. "He is an old family friend. I have a letter for him in that envelope, asking him to take you north."

"But—"

"Don't argue boy," she muttered. "Mars has been visiting me these last few days, keeping me company. He told me of your quest. Find Death in Alaska and release him. Do your duty."

"But if I succeed, you'll die. I'll never see you again."

"That is true," Grandmother agreed. "But I'll die anyway. I'm old. I thought I made that clear. But I would of thought you realized you still have family members."

I bit my lip. Technically it was true. There were other children of Mars. Not to mention technically Percy is my distant uncle.

"Now," Grandmother continued. "did your praetor give you letters of introductions?"

"Uh, yes, but—"

"Good. Show those to the pilot as well. He's a veteran of the legion. In case he has any doubts, or gets cold feet, those credentials will make him honor-bound to help you in any way possible. All you have to do is reach the airfield."

The house rumbled. Outside a ball of fire exploded in midair, lighting up the entire room.

"The ogres are getting restless," Grandmother said. "We must hurry. Now, about your powers, I hope you've figured them out."

"Sort of…" I stammered out the details of my discussion with Mars the night before, but I felt much more tongue-tied in front of Grandmother. "The gift of Periclymenus. Percy said he was the grandson of Neptune," I said.

Grandmother nodded grudgingly. "He was the grandson of Poseidon actually, but to maintain peaceful life with the Legion we made them think we were Legacies of Neptune. I guess your friend didn't mention our ancestor's gifts. The Gods probably prevented him from telling even if he could. What else did you learn?"

"A seer in Portland… he said something about my great-grandfather, Shen Lun. The seer said he was blamed for the 1906 earthquake that destroyed San Francisco and the old location of Camp Jupiter."

"Go on."

"At camp, they said a descendant of Neptune had caused the disaster. Neptune is the god of earthquakes. But… but I don't think great-grandfather actually did it. Causing earthquakes isn't our gift."

"No," Grandmother agreed. "But yes, he was blamed. He was unpopular as a descendant of Neptune. He was unpopular because his real gift was much stranger than causing earthquakes. And he was unpopular because he was Chinese. A Chinese boy had never before claimed Roman blood. An ugly truth—but there is no denying it. He was falsely accused, forced out in shame."

"So… if he didn't do anything wrong, why did you tell me to apologize for him?"

Grandmother's cheeks flushed. "Because apologizing for something you didn't do is better than dying for it! I wasn't sure if the camp would hold you to blame. I did not know if the prejudice of the Romans had eased."

I swallowed down my breakfast. I'd been teased in school and on the streets sometimes, but not that much, and never at Camp Jupiter. Nobody at camp, not once, had made fun of me for being Asian. Nobody cares about that. They only made fun of me because I was clumsy and slow. I couldn't imagine what it had been like for my great-grandfather, accused of destroying the entire camp, drummed out of the legion for something he didn't do.

"And our real gift?" Grandmother asked. "Have you figured out what it is?"

My mother's stories swirled in my head. Fighting like a swarm of bees. He was the greatest dragon of all. I remembered my mother's appearing next to me in the backyard, as if she'd flown from the attic. I remembered her coming out of the woods, saying that she'd given a mama grizzly bear directions.

"You can be anything," I said. "That's what Mom always told me."

Grandmother huffed. "Yes, Fai Zhang. Your mother was not simply boosting your self-esteem. She was telling you the literal truth."

"But…" Another explosion shook the house. Ceiling plaster fell like snow and yet I was so bewildered I barely noticed.

"Anything?"

"Within reason," Grandmother said. "Living things. It helps if you know the creature well. It also helps if you are in a life-and-death situation, such as combat. Why do you look so surprise, Fai? You always said you are not comfortable in your body. We all feel that way—well, all of us with the blood of Pylos. The gift was only given once to a mortal family. We are unique among demigods. Poseidon must have been feeling especially generous when he blessed our ancestor—or especially spiteful. The gift has often proven a curse. It did not save your mother…"

Outside, a cheer went up from the ogres. Someone shouted, "Zhang! Zhang!"

"You must go, silly boy," Grandmother said. "Our time is up."

"But—I don't know how to use my powers. I've never—I can't—"

"You can," Grandmother said. "Or you will not survive to realize your destiny. I don't like this Prophecy of Seven that Mars told me. Seven is an unlucky number in Chinese—a ghost number. But there is nothing we can do about that. Now, go! Tomorrow evening is the Feast of Fortuna. You have no time to waste. Don't worry about me. I will die in my own time, in my own way. I have no intention of being devoured by those ridiculous ogres. Go!"

I turned to the door. I felt like my heart was being squeezed through a juicer, but I bowed formally. "Thank you, Grandmother," I said. "I will make you proud."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded like: You have.

I stood there dumbfounded. She never said anything like that to me. Normally it ended with insults.

Of course when I thought that, her expression immediately turned sour. "Stop gaping, boy! Go shower and dress! Comb your hair! My last image of you, and you show messy hair?"

I patted down my hair and bowed again.

My last image of Grandmother was of her glaring out the window, as if thinking about the terrible scolding she would give the ogres when they invade her home.

If she was right about our family gift I wonder how good it would do her in her current condition.

I quickly push that thought aside as I headed off to shower and dress before fighting an army of ogres.