A/N: I don't own the rights to any of the Percy Jackson series or it's characters. That right gaoes 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.

Also, ever since I got my latest Laptop I been stuck using Google Docs and Copy and paste my chapters and for some reason when I save what I paste any formats I made is turn to normal format. I even have to bold the chapter titles, but as I'm sure you noticed sometimes I forget to do that. So anything I normally itallilize like thoughts come out normal text. A/N at the beginning and end of each keep the format changes because I add them without copying and pasting from google doc.

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
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Titan's Curse

Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Battle of the Labyrinth
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Stolen Chariot
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Sword of Hades
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Bronze Dragon
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Last Olympian
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Staff of Hermes
Animorph Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Singer of Apollo


Jason: I Talk to my Patron

As soon as I saw the house, I knew I was a dead man.

"Here we are!" Drew said cheerfully. "The Big House, camp headquarters."

It didn't look threatening, just a four-story manor painted baby blue with white trim. The wraparound porch had lounge chairs, a card table, an empty wheelchair. Wind chimes shaped like nymphs turned into trees as they spun. I could imagine old people coming here for summer vacation, sitting on the porch and sipping prune juice while they watched the sunset. Still, the windows seemed to glare down at me like angry eyes. The wide-open doorway looked ready to swallow me. On the highest gable, a bronze eagle weathervane spun in the wind and pointed straight in my direction, as if telling me to turn around.

Every molecule in my body told me I was on enemy ground.

"I am not supposed to be here" I said.

Drew circled her arm through mine. "Oh, please. You're perfect here, sweetie. Believe me, I've seen a lot of heroes."

Drew smelled like Christmas⎯a strange combination of pine and nutmeg. I wondered if she always smelled like that, or if it was some kind of special perfume for the holidays. Her pink eyeliner was really distracting. Every time she blinked, I felt compelled to look at her. Maybe that was the point, to show off her warm brown eyes. She was pretty. No doubt about that. But she made me feel uncomfortable.

I slipped my arm away as gently as I could. "Look, I appreciate⎯"

"Is it that girl?" Drew pouted. "Oh, please, tell me you are not dating the Dumpster Queen."

"You mean Piper? Um..."

I wasn't sure how to answer. I didn't think I'd ever seen Piper before today, but I felt strangely guilty about it. I knew I shouldn't be in this place. I shouldn't befriend these people, and certainly I shouldn't date one of them. Still... Piper had been holding my hand when I woke up on that bus. She believed she was my girlfriend. She'd been brave on the skywalk, fighting those venti, and when I had caught in her midair and we'd held each other face-to-face, I couldn't pretend I wasn't a little tempted to kiss her. But that wasn't right. I didn't even know my own story. I couldn't play with her emotions like that.

Drew rolled her eyes. "Let me help you decide, sweetie. You can do better. A guy with your looks, strength, and obvious talent?"

She wasn't looking at me, though. SHe was staring at a spot right above my head.

"You're waiting for a sign," I guessed. "Like what popped over Leo's head."

"What? No! Well... yes. I mean, from what I heard, you're pretty powerful, right? You're going to be important at camp, so I figure your parent will claim you right away. And I'd love to see that. I wanna be with you every step of the way! So is your dad or mom the god? Please tell me it's not your mom. I would hate it if you were an Aphrodite kid."

"Why?"

"Then you'd be my half-brother, silly. You can't date somebody from own cabin. Yuck!"

"But aren't all the gods related?" I asked. "So isn't everyone here your cousin or something?"

"Aren't you cute! Sweetie, the godly side of your family doesn't count except for your parent. So anybody from another cabin⎯they're fair game. So who's your godly parent⎯mom or dad?"

As usual, I didn't have an answer. I look up, but no glowing sign popped above my head. At the top of the Big House, the weathervane was still pointing my direction, that bronze eagle glaring as if to say, Turn around kid, while you still can.

Then I heard footsteps on the front porch. No⎯not footsteps⎯hooves.

"Chiron!" Drew called. "This is Jason. He's totally awesome!"

I backed up so fast I almost tripped. Rounding the corner of the porch was a man on horseback. Except he wasn't on horseback⎯he was part of the horse. From the waist up he was human, with curly brown hair and a well-trimmed beard. He wore a T-shirt that said World's Best Centaur, and had a quiver and bow strapped to his back. His head was so high up he had to duck to avoid the porch lights, because from the waist down, he was a white stallion.

Chiron smiled at me. Then the color drained from his face.

"You..." The centaur's eyes flared like a cornered animal's. "You should be dead."

...

Chiron ordered me⎯well, invited, but it sounded like an order-to come inside the house. He told Drew to go back to her cabin, which Drew didn't look happy about.

The centaur trotted over to the empty wheelchair on the porch. He slipped off his quiver and bow and backed up to the chair, which opened like a magician's box. Chiron gingerly stepped into it with his back legs and began scrunching himself into a space that should've been much too small. I imagined a truck's reversing noises⎯beep, beep, beep⎯as the centaur's lower half disappeared and the chair folded up, popping out a set of fake human legs covered in a blanket, so Chiron appeared to be a regular mortal guy in a wheelchair.

"Follow me," he ordered. "We have lemonade."

The living room looked like it had been swallowed by a rainforest. Grapevines curved up the walls and across the ceiling, which I found a little strange. I didn't think plants grew like that inside, especially in the winter, but these were leafy green and bursting with bunches of red grapes.

Leather couches faced a stone fireplace with a crackling fire. Wedged in one corner, an old style Pac-Man arcade game beeped and blinked. Mounted on the walls was an assortment of masks⎯smiley/frowny Greek theater types, feathered Mardi Gras mask, Venetian Carnevale mask with big beaklike nose, carved wooden masks from Africa. Grapevines grew through their mouths so they seemed to have leafy tongues. Some had red grapes bulging through their eyeholes.

But the weirdest thing was the stuffed leopard's head above the fireplace. It looked so real, its eyes seemed to follow me. Then it snarled, and I nearly leaped out of my skin..

"Now, Séymour," Chiron chided. "Jason is a friend. Behave yourself."

"That thing is alive!" I said.

Chiron rummaged through the side pocket of his wheelchair and brought out a package of Snausages. He threw one to the leopard, who snapped it up and licked his lips.

"You must excuse the décor," Chiron said. "All this was a parting gift from our old director before he was recalled to Mount Olympus. He thought it would help us remember him. Mr. D has a strange sense of humor."

"Mr. D," I said. "Dionysus?"

"Mmm hmm." Chiron poured lemonade, though his hands were trembling a little. "As for Seymour, well, Mr. D liberated him from a Long Island garage sale. The leopard is Mr. D's sacred animal, you see, and Mr. D was appalled that someone would stuff such a noble creature. He decided to grant it life, on the assumption that life as a mounted head was better than no life at all. I must say it's a kinder fate than Seymour's previous owner got."

Seymour bared his fangs and sniffed the air, as if hunting for more Snausages.

"If he's only the head," I said, "where does the food go when he eats?"

"Better not ask," Chiron said. "Please, sit."

I took some lemonade, though my stomach was fluttering. Chiron sat back in his wheelchair and tried for a smile, but I could tell it was forced. The old man's eyes were as deep and dark as wells.

"So, Jason," he said, "would you mind telling me⎯ah⎯where you're from?"

"I wish I knew." I told him the whole story, from crash-landing at Camp Half-Blood. I didn't see any point in hiding the details, and Chiron was a good listener. He didn't react to the story , other than to nod encouragingly for more, although he seemed interest when I brought up how I picked up the flying chariot with ease and carried it ashore from the lake.

When I was done, the old man sipped his lemonade.

"I see," Chiron said. "And you must have questions for me."

"Only one," I admitted. "What did you mean when you said that I should be dead?"

Chiron studied me with concern, as if he expected me to burst into flames. "My boy, do you know what those marks on your arm mean? The color of your shirt? Do you remember anything?"

I looked at the tattoo on my forearm: SPQR, the eagle, twelve straight lines.

"No," I said. "Nothing."

"Do you know where you are?" Chiron asked. "Do you understand what this place is, and who I am?"

"You're the centaur Chiron," I said. "I'm guessing you're the same one from the old stories, who used to train the Greek heroes like Heracles. This is a camp for demigods, children of an Olympian god and a mortal."

"So you believe those gods still exist?"

"Yes," I said immediately. "I mean, I don't think we should worship them or sacrifice chickens to them or anything, but they're still around because they're a powerful part of civilization. They move from country to country as the center of power shifts⎯like they moved from Ancient Greece to Rome."

"I couldn't have said it better." Something about Chiron's voice had changed. "So you already know the gods are real. You have already been claimed, haven't you?"

"Maybe," I answered. "I'm not really sure."

Seymour the leopard snarled.

Chiron waited and I realized what had just happened. The centaur had switched to another language and I had understood, automatically answering in the same tongue.

"Quis erat⎯" I faltered, then made a conscious effort to speak English. "What was that?"

"You know Latín," Chiron observed. "Most demigods recognize a few phrases, of course. It's in their blood, but not as much as Ancient Greek. None can speak Latín fluently without practice."

I tried to wrap my mind around what that meant, but too many pieces were missing from my memory. I still had the feeling that I shouldn't be here. It was wrong⎯and dangerous. But at least Chiron wasn't threatening. In fact the centaur seemed concerned for me, afraid for my safety.

The fire reflected in Chiron's eyes, making them dance fretfully. "I taught your namesake, you know, the original Jason. He had a hard path. I've seen many heroes come and go. Occasionally, they have happy endings. Mostly, they don't. It break my heart, like losing a child each time one of my pupils dies. But you⎯you are not like any pupil I've ever taught. Your presence here could be a disaster."

"Thanks," I said. " You must be an inspiring teacher."

"I am sorry, my boy. But it's true. I had hoped that after Percy success⎯"

"Percy Jackson, you mean. Annabeth's boyfriend, the one who is missing."

Chiron nodded. "And like you he had a rare blessing that has not been given for several millennia."

"Rare blessing?"

"I hoped that after he succeeded in the Titan War and saved Mount Olympus, we might have some peace. I might be able to enjoy one final triumph, a happy ending, and perhaps retiré quietly. I should have known better. The last chapter approaches , just as it did before. The worst is yet to come."

In the corner, the arcade game game made a sad pew-pew-pew-pew sound, like a Pac-Man had just died.

"Ohh-kay," I said. "So-last chapter, happened before, worst yet to come. Sounds fun, but can we go back to the part where I'm supposed to be dead? I don't like that part."

"I'm afraid I can't explain, my boy. I swore on the River Styx and on all things sacred that I would never..." Chiron frowned. "But you're here, in violation of the same oath. That too, should not be possible. I don't understand. Who would've done such a thing? Who⎯"

Seymour the leopard howled. His mouth froze, half open. The arcade game stopped beeping. The fire stopped crackling, its flames hardening like red glass. The masks stared down silently at me with their grotesque grape eyes and leafy tongues.

"Chiron?" I asked. "What's going⎯"

The old centaur had frozen, too. I jumped off the couch, but Chiron kept staring at the same spot, his mouth open mid-sentence. His eyes didn't blink. His chest didn't move.

Jason, a voice said.

For a horrible moment, I thought the leopard had spoken. Then dark mist boiled out of Seymour's mouth, and an even worse thought occurred to me: storm spirits.

I grabbed the golden coin from my pocket. With a quick flip, it changed into a sword.

The mist took the form of a woman in black robes. Her face was hooded, but her eyes glowed in the darkness. Over her shoulders she wore a goatskin cloak. I wasn't sure how I knew it was goatskin, but I recognized it and knew it was important.

Would you attack your patron? the woman chided. Her voice echoed in my head. Lower your sword.

"Who are you?" I demanded. "How did you⎯"

Our time is limited, Jason. My prison grows stronger by the hour. It took me a full month to gather enough energy to work even the smallest magic through its bonds. I've managed to bring you here, but now I have little time left, and even less power. This may be the last time I can speak to you.

"You're in prison?" I decided maybe I wouldn't lower my sword. "Look, I don't know you, and you're not my patrón."

You know me, she insisted. I have known you since birth.

"I don't remember. I don't remember anything."

No, you don't, she agreed. That also was necessary. Long ago, your father gave me your life as a gift to placate my anger. He named you Jason, after my favorite mortal. You belong to me, and in return I bless you with the Strength of Hercules to help you in your journey.

"Strength of Hercules?" I asked. "Whoa, hold on. I don't belong to anyone."

Now is the time to pay your debt, she said. Find my prison. Free me, or their king will rise from the earth, and I will be destroyed. You will never retrieve your memory.

"Is that a threat? You took my memories?"

You have until sunset on the solstice, Jason. Four short days. Do not fail me.

The dark woman dissolved, and the mist curled into the leopard's mouth.

Time unfroze. Seymour's howl turned into a cough like he'd sucked in a hair ball. The fire crackled to life, the arcade machine beeped, and Chiron said, "⎯would dare to bring you here?"

"Probably the lady in the mist," I offered.

Chiron looked up in surprise. "Weren't you just sitting... why do you have a sword drawn?"

"I hate to tell you this," I said, "but I think your leopard just ate a goddess."

I told Chiron about the frozen-in-time visit, the dark misty figure that disappeared into Seymour's mouth.

"Oh. dear," Chiron murmured. "That does explain a lot."

"Then why don't you explain a lot to me?" I said. "Please."

Before Chiron could say anything, footsteps reverberated on the porch outside. The front door blew open, and Annabeth and another girl, a redhead, burst in, dragging Piper between them. Piper's head lolled like she was unconscious.

"What happened?" I rushed over. "What's wrong with her?"

"Hera's cabin," Annabeth gasped, like they'd run all the way. "Vision. Bad."

The redheaded girl looked up, and I saw she'd been crying.

"I think..." the redheaded girl gulped. "I think I may have killed her."


A/N: That's right, I gave Jason the strength from Hercules. Since it was thought when Hercules drank Hera's breast milk that gave him his famous strength, then Hera and Juno should be able to give Jason the same strength. This also a bit like a redo for Percy and Jason to complete a journey on the Argo II which Hercules and Periclymenus couldn't do on the original argo due to their battle against with each other as well as for Frank for the same reason since he is Periclymenus' descendant.