A/N: I don't own the rights to any of the Percy Jackson series or it's characters. That right goes to Rick Riordan. I also don't own the rights to Animorph including it's title.

I am, however, the person who posted 'The Tales of...' series.

This is not a crossover of the Percy Jackson series with the book/tv series Animorph, despite what you might think from the title. I just thought it be a proper name for the ability to turn into animals since that's why the tv/book series 'Animorph' was called that in the first place.

If you haven't read this yet, read:

Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sea of Monsters

How to Grow Zombies for Half-Bloods

The thing about flying on a pegasus during the day time is that even with the Mist, you never expect what mortals would see. They could see a giant black raven or plane flying around. But it is not the mortals I was worried about. It was my friends. Half-Bloods are only affected by the Mist to a certain degree. So, I had Blackjack stay up in the clouds, which were, fortunately low in the winter. We darted around, trying to keep the white Camp Half-Blood van in sight. Another issue is that it is seriously cold in the air, with icy rain stinging my skin.

We lost the van twice, but I had a pretty good sense that they would go into Manhattan first, so it was not too difficult to pick up their trail again. It helped that the traffic was bad with the holidays and all. It was mid-morning before they got into the city.

I landed Blackjack near the top of the Chrysler Building and watched the white van, thinking it would pull into the bus station, but it just kept driving.

"Where's Argus taking them?" I muttered.

Oh, Argus ain't driving, boss, Blackjack told me. That girl is.

"Which girl? There's three down there," I stated.

The Hunter girl. With the silver crown thing in her hair.

"Zoë?"

That is the one. Hey, look! There is a donut shop. Can we get something to go?

I tried explaining to Blackjack that we need to keep going as long as the van is going. Right now, the van was snaking its way toward the Lincoln Tunnel. It had never even occurred to me that Zoë could drive. She did not look sixteen, but she was immortal so there is no telling how old she really is.

"Well," I said. "Let's get after them."

We were about to leap off the Chrysler Building when Blackjack whinnied in alarm and almost threw me. Something was curling around my leg like a snake. I reached for my sword, but when I looked down, there was no snake. Vines—grape—vines—had sprouted from the cracks between the stones of the building. They were wrapping around Blackjack's legs, lashing down my ankles so we could not move.

"Going somewhere?" Mr. D asked.

He was leaning against the building with his feet levitating in the air, his leopard-skin warm-up suit and black hair whipping around in the wind.

God alert! Blackjack yelled. It is the wine dude!

Mr. D sighed in exasperation. "The next person, or horse, who calls me the 'wine dude' will end up in a bottle of Merlot!"

"Mr. D." I tried to keep my voice calm as the grape vines continued to wrap around my legs. "What do you want?"

"Oh, what do I want? You thought, perhaps, that the immortal, all-powerful director of camp would not notice you leaving without permission? I should turn you into a none flying creature, throw you off this building, minus the flying horse, and see how heroic you sound on the way down."

I balled my fists. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but I am not about to let Mr. D kill me or haul me back to camp in shame without knowing what the deal is with this guy? He seemed to hate me from day one, but ever since I was claimed his hatred seem to get worse.

"Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?"

Purple flames flickered in his eyes. "You're a hero, boy. I need no other reason."

"So were you, at one time." I responded. "What's your point?"

The grape vines coiled tighter around me. Below us, the white van was getting farther and farther away. Soon it would be out of sight.

"Did I ever tell you about Ariadne?" Mr. D asked. "Beautiful young princess of Crete? She liked helping her friends. In fact, she helped a young hero name Theseus, also a son of Poseidon. She gave him a ball of magical yarn that let him find his way out of the labyrinth. And do you know how Theseus rewarded her?"

"Uh… didn't he promise to marry her?" I asked.

Mr. D sneered. "He did. He took her aboard his ship and sailed for Athens. Halfway back, on a little island called Naxos, he… What is the word you mortals use today?... he dumped her. I found her there. Alone. Heartbroken. Crying her eyes out. She had given up everything, left everything she knew behind, to help a dashing young hero who tossed her away like a broken sandal."

"I get it. That was wrong. But what does that have to do with me?"

Mr. D regarded coldly. "I fell in love with Ariadne, boy. I healed her broken heart. And when she died, I made her my immortal wife in Olympus. She waits for me even now. I shall go back to her when I am done with this infernal century of punishment at your ridiculous camp."

I stared at him. "You're… you're married? But I thought you got in trouble for chasing a wood nymph—"

"My point is you heroes never change. You accuse us gods of being vain. You should look at yourselves. You take what you want, use whoever you must, and then you betray everyone around you. So, you will excuse me if I have no love for heroes. They are a selfish, ungrateful lot."

"Including your own sons?" I asked. "Pollux and Castor are heroes, right? By your own words they are everything you hate. And yet you claimed them—you acknowledge their existence. What makes them any different from any other hero?"

Mr. D's eyes flared even more, and I knew I struck a nerve. As much as Mr. D acts around heroes, he is still a father to some himself. At one-point Mr. D did claim his sons, so he must have acknowledge

He waved his hand dismissively. "Go. Follow your silly friends."

The vines uncurled around my legs.

I blinked in disbelief. "You're… you're letting me go? Just like that?"

"The prophecy says at least one of you will die. Perhaps I will get lucky and you will be one of them. But mark my words, Son of Poseidon, live or die, you will prove no better than any other hero. Just ask Zoë Nightshade what I mean."

"What do you mean, ask Zoë?"

Dionysus did not answer as he snapped his fingers. His image folded up like a paper display. There was a pop, and he was gone, leaving a faint scent of grapes that was quickly blown away by the wind.

Too close, Blackjack said.

I nodded, though I almost would have been less worried if Mr. D had hauled me back to camp. The fact that he had let me go meant he really believe we stood a fair chance of crashing and burning on this quest. And the fact he went from 'every hero' to 'every other hero' must have meant I struck something bringing up the Dionysus twins.

"Come on, Blackjack," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I'll buy you some donuts the first stop Zoë makes."

…

Zoë did not stop for a long time. She drove south like a crazy person, and we were into Maryland before she finally pulled over at a rest stop. Blackjack darn near tumbled out of the sky, he was so tired. I will be okay, boss, he panted. Just… just catching my breath.

"Why don't you rest up and fly home?" I suggested. "I can track Zoë from here."

Are you sure, boss?

"Yeah. You have not had any rest since you came to pick me up to save that sea creature. It's the least I can do." I said. "Before I go, I might be able to get you a donut. But if you see the van leave and I do not return, go ahead back and I will pay you back later.

Blackjack nodded in agreement.

I put on Annabeth's cap of invisibility and walked over to the convenience store. It was difficult not to sneak but I did had to avoid running into people. I was invisible, not intangible. Unfortunately, I was not able to get something for Blackjack before Zoë, Thalia, Bianca, and Grover came out of the store.

"Grover, are you sure?" Thalia was saying.

"Well… pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent. Okay, eighty-five percent."

"And you did this with acorns?" Bianca asked, like she could not believe it.

I get where Bianca was coming from. I was the same way after I first learned that Grover was a satyr.

Grover looked offended. "It's a time-honored tracking spell. I mean, I'm pretty sure I did it right."

"D.C. is about sixty miles from here," Bianca said. "Nico and I…" She frowned. "We used to live there. That's… that is strange. I'd forgotten."

"I dislike this," Zoë said. "We should go straight west. The prophecy said west."

"Oh, like your tracking skills are better?" Thalia growled.

Zoë stepped toward her. "You challenge my skills, you scullion? You know nothing of being a Hunter!"

"Oh, scullion? You are calling me a scullion? What the heck is a scullion?"

"Whoa, you two," Grover said nervously. "Come on. Not again!"

"Grover's right," Bianca said. "D.C. is our best bet."

Zoë did not look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly. "Very well. Let us keep moving."

"You're going to get us arrested, driving," Thalia grumbled. "I look closer to sixteen than you do."

"Perhaps," Zoë snapped. "But I have been driving since automobiles were invented. Let us go."

…

I went ahead and got Blackjack his donut and send him home before I tracked Zoë down in Snow Owl form. Since I was still wearing the cap, I doubt I will stand out. My guess is the cap melts onto me with my clothes while keeping its magic. Plus, as I hope, snow owls' feathers were nice and warm—which makes sense since they are naturally built to be active during the winter.

I cannot keep myself from wondering about what Zoë said back there. I did not know exactly when cars were invented, but I know it was before my mom was my age.

How old was Zoë? And what had Mr. D been talking about? What bad experience had she had with heroes?

Washington D.C. was not as far from the rest stop as it was there from Camp. My wings were starting to tire out from the flying. But I do not regret sending Blackjack back. If my wings are this tired, no wonder how tired Blackjack would be if I pushed him further.

Fortunately, the van started to slow down. It crossed the Potomac River into central Washington. I landed on the grass next to the Washington Monument and morphed back into human form—still invisible.

The van was only a few blocks away. Zoë had parked at the curb. Everybody was getting out. Grover pointed toward one of the big buildings lining the Mall. Thalia nodded, and the four of them trudged off into the cold wind.

I started to follow. But then I froze.

A block away, the door of a black sedan opened. A man with gray hair and a military buzz cut got out. He was wearing dark shades and a black overcoat. Now, maybe in Washington, you expected guys like that to be everywhere. But it dawned on me that I had seen this same car a couple of times on the highway, going south. It had been following the van.

The guy took out his mobile phone and said something into it. Then he looked around, like he was making sure the coast was clear, and started walking down the Mall in the direction of my friends.

The worst of it was when he turned toward me, I recognized his face. It was Dr. Thorn, the manticore from Westover Hall.

…

Invisibility cap on, I shrunk down, and fur sprouted all over my body as I shapeshifted into a lemming so I can run under people's feet, I followed Thorn from a distance. My heart was pounding. If he had survived that fall from the cliff, then what I saw in my dreams happened. Annabeth was alive.

Thorn kept well back from my friends, careful not to be seen.

Finally, Grover stopped in front of a big building that said NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM. The Smithsonian! I had been here years ago with my mom, but everything had looked so much bigger then.

Thalia checked the door. It was open, but there were not many people going in. Too cold, and school was out of session. They slipped inside.

Dr. Thorn hesitated. I was not sure why, but he did not go into the museum. He turned and headed across the Mall. I made a split-second decision and follow him.

Thorn crossed the street and climbed the steps of the Museum of Natural History. There was a big sign on the door. At first, I thought it said CLOSED FOR PIRATE EVENT. Then I realized PIRATE must be PRIVATE.

Although that meant there will not be any mortals to run into, I stayed in invisible lemming mode as I followed Dr. Thorn inside, through a huge chamber full of mastodons and dinosaur skeletons. There were voices up ahead, coming from behind a set of closed doors. Two guards stood outside. They opened the doors for Thorn, and I had to sprint as fast as a Lemming could to get inside before they closed them again.

Inside, what I saw was so terrible I almost squeaked in lemming form.

I was in a huge round room with a balcony ringing the second level. At least a dozen mortal guards stood on the balcony, plus two monsters—reptilian women with double-snake trunks instead of legs. I had seen them before. Annabeth had called them Scythian dracaenae.

But that was not the worst of it. Standing between the snake women—I could swear he was looking straight down at my lemming form—was my old enemy Luke. He looked terrible. his skin was pale, and his blond hair looked almost gray, as if he had aged ten years in just a few months. The angry light in his eyes was still there, and so was the scar down the side of his face, where a dragon had once scratched him. But the scar was now ugly red, as though it had recently been reopened.

Next to him, sitting down so that the shadows covered him, as another man. All I could see were his knuckles on the gilded arms of his chair, like a throne.

"Well?" asked the man in the chair. His voice was just like the one I heard in my dreams—not as creepy as Kronos's, but deeper and stronger, like the earth itself was talking. It filled the whole room even though he was not yelling.

Dr. Thorn took off his shades. His two-colored eyes, brown and blue, glittered with excitement. He made a stiff bow, then spoke in his weird French accent: "They are here, General."

"I know that, you fool," boomed the man. "But where?"

"In the rocket museum."

"The Air and Space Museum," Luke corrected irritably.

Dr. Thorn glared at Luke. "As you say, sir."

I got the feeling Thorn would just as soon impale Luke with one of his spikes as call him sir.

"How many?" Luke asked.

Thorn pretended not to hear.

"How many?" the General demanded.

"Four, General," Thorn said. "The satyr Grover Underwood. And the girl with the spiky black hair and the—how do you say—punk clothes and the horrible shield."

"Thalia," Luke said.

"And two other girls—Hunters. One wears a silver circlet."

"That one I know," the General growled.

Everyone in the room shifted uncomfortably.

"Let me take them," Luke said to the General. "We have more than enough—"

"Patience," the General said. "They'll have their hands full already. I've sent a little playmate to keep them occupied."

"But—"

"We cannot risk you, my boy."

"Yes, boy," Dr. Thorn said with a cruel smile. "You are much too fragile to risk. Let me finish them off."

"No." The General rose from his chair, and I got my first look at him.

He was tall and muscular, with light brown skin and slicked-back dark hair. He wore an expensive brown silk suit like the guys on Wall Street wear, but you would never mistake this dude for a broker. He had a brutal face, huge shoulders, and hands that could snap a flagpole in half. His eyes were like stone. I felt as if I were looking at a living statue. It was amazing he could even move.

"You have already failed me, Thorn," he said.

"But, General—"

"No excuses!"

Thorn flinched and my lemming instincts was yelling at me to run. I thought Thorn was scary when I first saw him in his black uniform at the military academy. But now, standing before the General, Thorn looked like a silly wannabe soldier. The General was the real deal. He did not need a uniform. He was a born commander.

"I should throw you into the pits of Tartarus for your incompetence," the General said. "I send you to capture a child of the three elder gods, and you bring me a scrawny daughter of Athena."

"But you promised me revenge!" Thorn protested. "A command of my own!"

"I am Lord Kronos's senior commander," the General said. "And I will choose lieutenants who get me results! It was only thanks to Luke that we salvaged our plan at all. Now get out of my sight, Thorn, until I find some other menial task for you."

Thorn's face turned purple with rage. I thought he was going to start frothing at the mouth or shooting spines, but he just bowed awkwardly and left the room.

"Now, my boy." The General turned to Luke. "The first thing we must do is isolate the half-blood Thalia. The monster we seek will then come to her."

"The Hunters will be difficult to dispose of," Luke said. "Zoë Nightshade—"

"Do not speak her name!"

Luke swallowed. "S-sorry, General. I just—"

The General silenced him with a wave of his hand. "Let me show you, my boy, how we will bring the Hunters down."

He pointed to a guard on the ground level. "Do you have the teeth?"

The guy stumbled forward with a ceramic pot. "Yes, General!"

"Plant them," he said.

In the center of the room was a big circle of dirt, where I guess a dinosaur exhibit was supposed to go. I watched nervously as the guard took sharp white teeth out of the pot and pushed them into the soil. He smoothed them over while the General smiled coldly.

The guard stepped back from the dirt and wiped his hands. "Ready, General."

"Excellent! Water them, and we will let them scent their prey."

The guard picked up a little tin watering can with daisies painted on it. But what he poured out was not water. It was dark red liquid.

The soil began to bubble.

"Soon," the General said, "I will show you, Luke, soldiers that will make your army from that little boat look insignificant."

Luke clenched his fists. "I've spent a year training my forces! When the Princess Andromeda arrives at the mountain, they'll be the best—"

"Ha!" the General said. "I don't deny your troops will make a fine honor guard for Lord Kronos. And you, of course, will have a role to play—"

I thought Luke turned paler when the General said that.

"—but under my leadership, the forces of Lord Kronos will increase a hundredfold. We will be unstoppable. Behold, my ultimate killing machines."

The soil erupted. I stepped back nervously.

In each spot where a tooth had been planted, a creature was struggling out of the dirt. The first of them said: "Mew?"

It was a kitten. A little orange tabby with stripes like a tiger. Then another appeared, until there were a dozen rolling around and playing in the dirt.

At least I thought they were kittens. But I got a strong sense that these creatures were older—much older—species of wild cat. Perhaps they were cubs. But cubs of what?

Everyone else stared at them in disbelief. The General roared, "What is this? Cute cuddly kittens? Where did you find those teeth?"

The guard who had brought the teeth cowered in ear. "From the exhibit, sir! Just like you said. The saber-toothed tiger—"

"No, you idiot! I said the tyrannosaurus! Gather up those… those infernal fuzzy little beasts and take them outside. And never let me see your face again."

So those were Saber Toothed Tiger cubs. I got to say, a part of me is glad General ordered to get rid of them instead of raising them. I heard adult saber-toothed tigers were deadly. But at the same time, I fear what he wanted instead.

The terrified guard dropped his watering can. He gathered up the kittens and scampered out of the room.

"You!" The General pointed to another guard. "Get me the right teeth. NOW!"

The new guard ran off to carry out his orders.

"Imbeciles," muttered the General.

"This is why I don't use mortals," Luke said. "They are unreliable."

"They are weak-minded, easily bought, and violent," the General said. "I love them."

A minute later, the guard hustled into the room with his hands full of large pointy teeth.

"Excellent," the General said. He climbed onto the balcony railing and jumped down, twenty feet.

Any hope I might have had that this guy was an illusion or something dashed when he landed. Where he landed, the marble floor cracked under his leather shoes. He stood, wincing, and rubbed his shoulders. "C- my stiff neck."

"Another hot pad, sir?" a guard asked. "More Tylenol?"

"No! It will pass." The General brushed off his silk suit, then snatched up the teeth. "I shall do this myself."

He held up one of the teeth and smiled. "Dinosaur teeth—ha! Those foolish mortals do not even know when they have dragon teeth in their possession. And not just any dragon teeth. These come from the ancient Sybaris herself! They shall do nicely."

He planted them in the dirt, twelve in all. Then he scooped up the watering can. He sprinkled the soil with red liquid, tossed the can away, and held his arms out wide. Rise!"

The dirt trembled. A single, skeletal hand shot out of the ground, grasping at the air.

The General looked up at the balcony. "Quickly, do you have the scent?"

"Yesssss, lord," one of the snake ladies said. She took out a sash of silvery fabric, like the kind the Hunters wore.

I quickly shapeshifted back into human form, and then into Peregrine Falcon form.

"Excellent," the General said as I flew into the air, still invisible. "Once my warriors catch its scent, they will pursue its owner relentlessly. Nothing can stop them, no weapons known to half-blood or Hunter. They will tear the Hunters and their allies to shreds. Toss it here!"

As he said that, skeletons erupted from the ground. There were twelve of them, one for each tooth the General had planted. These guys started growing flesh—turning into men-but with dull gray skin, yellow eyes, and modern clothes-gray muscle shirts, camo pants, and combat boots. The flesh that grew was transparent and their bones shimmered underneath like X-Ray images.

The snake lady released the scarf but before it fluttered down, I swooped down with my claws in front of me and grabbed the scarf.

"What's this?" bellowed the General.

I soared above, still invisible, but the scarf I had was not.

"An intruder," The General growled. "One cloaked in darkness. Seal the doors!"

"It's Percy Jackson!" Luke yelled. "It has to be."

I landed and shapeshifted back to human to grab the scarf before shapeshifting again into a full-grown invisible Bull.

I charged at full speed and slammed through the doors, knocking down the guards as I go.

Interesting Animal Facts: Despite what myths might lead you to believe Lemmings are not suicidal nor do they commit mass suicides by jumping off cliffs. More of migratory behavior that lead them to places they feel they need to go even if it's not the best option.

I just thought I go ahead and debunked the Lemming-Mass-Suicide Myth whether or not any of you heard about it.