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


Piper: Rachel Tries to Give Me a Pep Talk

I dreamed about my last day with my dad.

We were on the beach near Big Sur, taking a break from surfing. The morning had been so perfect, I knew something had to go wrong soon⎯a rabid horde of paparazzi, or maybe a great white shark attack. No way my luck could hold.

But so far, we'd had excellent waves, an overcast sky, and a mile of ocean front completely to ourselves. Dad had found this out-of-the-way spot, rented a beachfront villa and the properties on either side, and somehow managed to keep it secret. If he stayed there too long, I knew the photographers would find him. They always did.

"Nice job out there, Pipes." He gave me the smile he was famous forL perfect teeth, dimpled chin, a twinkle in his dark eyes that always made grown women scream and ask him to sign their bodies in permanent marker. (Seriously, I thought, get a life.) His close cropped black hair gleamed with salt water. "You're getting better at hanging ten."

I flushed with pride, though I suspected Dad was just being nice. I still spent most of my time wiping out. It took a special talent to run over yourself with a surfboard. My dad was a natural surfer⎯which made no sense since he'd been raised a poor kid in Oklahoma, hundreds of miles from the ocean⎯but he was amazing on the curls. I would've given up surfing a long time ago except it let me spend time with him. There weren't that many ways I could do that.

"Sandwich?" Dad dug into the picnic basket his chef, Arno, had made. "Let's see: turkey pesto crabcake wasabi⎯ah a Piper special. Peanut butter and jelly."

I took the sandwich, though my stomach was too upset to eat. I always asked for PB&J. I was a vegetarian. I had been ever since we'd driven past that slaughter-house in Chino and the smell had made my insides want to come outside. But it was more than that. PB&J was simple food, like a regular kid would have for lunch. Sometimes I pretended my dad had actually made it for me, not a personal chef from France who liked to wrap the sandwich in gold leaf paper with a light-up sparkler instead of a toothpick.

Couldn't anything be simple? That's why I turned down fancy clothes Dad always offered, designer shoes, trips to the salon. I cut my own hair with a pair of plastic Garfield safety scissors, deliberately making it uneven. I preferred to wear beat up running shoes, jeans, and T-shirt, and my old Polartec jacket from the time we went snowboarding.

And I hated the snobby private schools Dad thought were good for me. I kept getting myself kicked out. He kept finding more schools.

Yesterday, I pulled my biggest heist yet⎯driving that "borrowed" BMW out of the dealership. I had to pull a bigger stunt each time, because it took more and more to get Dad's attention.

Now I regret it. Dad didn't know yet.

I'd meant to tell him that morning. Then he's surprised me with this trip, and I couldn't ruin it. It was the first time we had a day together in three months.

"What's wrong?" he passed me a soda.

"Dad, there's something⎯"

"Hold on, Pipes. That's a serious face. Ready for Any Three Questions?"

We'd been playing that game for years⎯my dad's way of staying connected in the shortest possible amount of time. We could ask each other any three questions. Nothing off-limits, and you had to answer honestly. The rest of the time, Dad promised to stay out of my business⎯which was easy, since he was never around.

I knew most kids would find a Q&A like this with their parents totally mortifying. But I looked forward to it. It was like surfing⎯not easy, but a way to feel like I actually had a father.

"First question," I said. "Mom."

That always was one of my questions. I always hope to learn something different dad might have forgotten to mention before.

My dad shrugged with resignation. "What do you want to know, Piper? I already told you⎯she disappeared. I don't know why, or where she went. After you were born, she simply left. I never heard from her again."

"Do you think she's still alive?"

It wasn't a real question. Dad was allowed to say he didn't know. But I wanted to hear how he'd answer.

He stared at the waves.

"Your Grandpa Tom," he said at last, "he used to tell me that if you walked far enough toward the sunset, you'd come to Ghost Country, where you could talk to the dead. He said a long time ago, you could bring the deadback; but then mankind messed up. Well, it's a long story."

"Like the Land of the Dead for the Greeks," I remembered. "It was in the west, too. And Orpheus⎯he tried to bring his wife back."

Dad nodded. A year before, he'd had taken his biggest roll as an Ancient Greek king. I had helped him research the myths⎯all those old stories about people getting turned to stone and boiled in lakes of lava. We'd had a fun time reading together, and it made my life seemed not so bad. For a while I'd felt closer to my dad, but like everything, it didn't last.

"Lot of similarities between Greek and Cherokee," Dad agreed. "Wonder what your grandpa would think if he saw us now, sitting at the end of the western land. He'd probably think we're ghost."

"So you're saying you believe those stories? You think Mom is dead?"

His eyes watered, and I saw the sadness behind them. I figured that's why women were so attracted to him. On the surface, he seemed confident and rugged, but his eyes held so much sadness. Women wanted to find out why. They wanted to comfort him, and they never could. Dad told me it was a Cherokee thing⎯they all had that darkness inside them from generations of pain and suffering. But I thought it was more than that.

"I don't believe the stories," he said. "They're fun to tell, but if I really believed in Ghost Country, or animal spirits, or Greek gods... I don't think I could sleep at night. I'd always be looking for someone to blame."

Somebody to blame for Grandpa Tom dying of lung cancer, I thought, before Dad got famous and had the money to help. For Mom⎯the only woman he'd ever loved⎯abandoning him without even a good-bye note, leaving him with a newborn girl he wasn't ready to care for. For his being so successful, and yet still not happy.

"I don't know if she's alive," he said. "But I do think she might as well be in Ghost Country, Piper. There's no getting her back. Only way I would believe otherwise, well I guess if it means helping the ones I care about. Otherwise, I don't think I could stand that, either."

Behind us, a car door opened. I turned, and my heart sank. Jane was marching toward us in her business suit, wobbling over the sand in her high heels, her PDA in hand. The look on her face was partly annoyed, partly triumphant, and I knew she'd been in touch with the police.

Please fall down, I prayed. If there's any animal spirit or Greek god that can help, make Jane take a header. I'm not asking for permanent damage, just knock her out for the rest of the day, please?

But Jane kept advancing.

"Dad," I said quickly. "Something happened yesterday..."

But he'd seen Jane, too. He always already reconstructing his business face. Jane wouldn't be here if it wasn't serious. A studio head called⎯a project fell through⎯or I had messed up again.

"We'll get back to that, Pipes," he promised. "I'd better see what Jane wants. You know how she is."

Yes⎯I knew. Dad trudged across the sand and meet her. I couldn't hear them talking, but I didn't need to. I was good at reading faces. Jane gave him the facts about the stolen car, occasionally pointing at me like I was a disgusting pet that had whizzed on the carpet.

Dad's energy and enthusiasm drained away. He gestured for Jane to wait. Then he walked back to me. I couldn't stand that look in his eyes⎯like I'd betrayed his trust.

"You told me you would try, Piper," he said.

"Dad, I hate that school. I can't do it. I wanted to tell you about the BMW, but⎯

"They've expelled you," he said. "A car, Piper. You're sixteen in a year. I would buy you any car you want. How could you⎯"

"You mean Jane would buy me a car?" I demanded. I couldn't help it. The anger just welled up and spilled out of me. "Dad, just listen for once. Don't make me wait for you to ask your stupid three questions. I want to go to regular school. I want you to take me to parents' night, not Jane. Or homeschool me! I learned so much when we read about Greece together. We could do that all the time! We could⎯"

"Don't make this about me," her dad said. "I do the best I can, Piper. We've had this conversation."

No, I thought. You've cut off this conversation. For years.

My dad sighed. "Jane's talked to the police, brokered a deal. The dealership won't press charges, but you have to agree to go to a boarding school in Nevada. They specialize in problems... in kids with tough issues."

"That's what I am." My voice trembled. "A problem."

"Piper... you said you'd try. You let me down. I don't know what else to do."

"Do anything," I said. "But do it yourself! Don't let Jane handle it for you. You can't just send me away."

Dad looked down at the picnic basket. His sandwich sat uneaten on a piece of gold leaf paper. We'd planned for a whole afternoon in the surf. Ow that was ruined.

I couldn't believe he'd really give in Jane's wishes. Not this time. Not on something as huge as boarding school.

"Go see her," Dad said. "She's got the details."

"Dad..."

He looked away, gazing at the ocean like he could see all the way to Ghost Country. I promised myself I wouldn't cry. I headed up the beach toward Jane, who smiled coldly and held up a plane ticket. As usual, she'd already arranged everything. I was just another problem of the day that Jane could now check off her list.

...

My dream changed.

I stood on a mountain top at night, city lights glimmering below. In front of me, a bonfire blazed. Purplish flames seemed to cast more shadows than light, but the heat was so intense,, my clothes steamed.

"This is your second warning," a voice rumbled, so powerful it shook the earth. I heard that voice before in my dreams. I'd tried to convince myself it wasn't as scary as I reme, bered, but it was worse.

Behind the bonfire, a huge face loomed out of the darkness. It seemed to float above the flames, but I knew it must be connected to an enormous body. The crude features might've been chiseled out of rock. The face seemed alive except for its piercing white eyes, like raw diamonds, and its horrible frame of dreadlocks braided with human bones. It smiled and I shivered.

"You'll do what you're told," the giant said. "You'll go on the quest. Do our bidding, and you may walk away alive. Otherwise⎯"

He gestured to one side of the fire. My father was hanging unconscious, tied to a stake.

I tried to cry out. I wanted to call to my dad, and demand the giant to let him go, but my voice wouldn't work.

"I'll be watching," the giant said. "Serve me, and you both live. You have the word of Enceladus. Fail me... well, I've slept for millennia, young demigod. I am very hungry. Fail, and I'll eat well."

The giant roared with laughter. The earth trembled.. A crevice opened at my feet, and I tumbled into darkness.

...

I woke up feeling like I'd been trampled by an Irish step dancing troupe. My chest hurt, and I could barely breathe. She reached down and closed my hand around the hilt of the dagger Annabeth had given me⎯Katoptris, Helen of Troy's weapon.

So Camp Half-Blood hadn't been a dream.

"How are you feeling?" someone asked.

I tried to focus. I was lying in a bed with a white curtain on one side, like in a nurse's office. That redheaded girl, Rachel Dare, sat next to me. On the wall was a poster of a cartoon satyr who looked disturbingly like Coach Hedge with a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. The caption read: Don't let sickness get your goat!

"Where⎯" my voice died when I saw the guy at the door.

He looked like a typical California surfer dude⎯buff and tan , blond hair, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. But he had hundreds of blue eyes all over his body⎯along his arms, down his legs, and all over his face. Even his feet had eyes, peering up at me from between the straps of his sandals.

"That's Argus," Rachel said, "our head of security. He just keeping an eye on things... so to speak."

Argus nodded. The eye on his chin winked.

"Where⎯?" I tried again, but I felt like I was talking through a mouthful of cotton.

"You're in the Big House," Rachel said. "Camp offices. We brought you here when you collapsed."

"You grabbed me," I remembered. "Hera's voice⎯"

"I'm so sorry about that," Rachel said. "Believe me, it was not my idea to get possessed. Chiron healed you with some of the drink of the gods known as Nectar. In small amounts, it can heal demigods, if it doesn't⎯ah⎯burn you to ashes."

"Oh. Fun."

Rachel sat forward. "Do you remember y our vision?"

I had a moment of dread, thinking she meant about the giant. Then I realized Rachel was talking about what happened in Hera's cabin.

"Something's wrong with the goddess," I said. "She told me to free her like she's trapped. She mentioned the earth swallowing us and a fiery one, and something about the solstice."

In the corner, Argus made a rumbling sound in his chest. He fluttered at once.

"Hera created Argus," Rachel explained. "He's actually very sensitive when it comes to her safety. We're trying to keep him from crying, because last time that happened... well, it caused quite a flood."

Argus sniffed. He grabbed a fistful of Kleenex from the bedside table and started dabbing eyes all over his body. I remember Annabeth mentioning something about Hera having her own kids without the need of Zeus, so I guess Argus was one of them.

"So..." I tried not to stare as Argus wiped the tears from his elbows. "What happened to Hera?"

"We're not sure," Rachel said. "Annabeth and Jason were here for you, by the way. Jason didn't want to leave you, but Annabeth had an idea⎯something that might restore his memories."

"That's... that's great."

Jason was here for me? I wish I'd been conscious for that. But if he got his memories back, would that be just a trick of the Mist.

Get over yourself, I thought. If I was going to save my dad, it didn't matter whether Jason liked me or not. He would hate me eventually. Everyone here would.

I looked down at the ceremonial dagger strapped to my side. Annabeth had said it was a sign of power and status, but normally used in battle. All show and no substance. A fake, just like me. And its name was Katoptris, Looking glass. I didn't dare unsheathe it again, because I couldn't bear to see my own reflection

"Don't worry." Rachel squeezed my arm. "Jason seems like a good guy. He had a vision too, a lot like yours. Whatever's happening with Hera⎯I think you two are meant to work together."

Rachel smiled like this was good news, but my spirits plunged even further. I thought that this quest⎯whatever it was⎯involve nameless people. Now Rachel was basically telling me: Good news! Not only is your dad being held ransom by a cannibal giant, you also get to betray the guy you like! How awesome is that?

"Hey," Rachel said. "No need to cry. You'll figure it out."

I wiped my eyes, trying to get control of myself. This wasn't like me. I was supposed to be tough⎯a hardened car thief, the scourge of L.A. private schools. Here I was, crying like a baby. "How can you know what I'm facing?"

Rachel shrugged. "I know it's a hard choice, and your options aren't great. Like I said, I get hunches sometimes. But you're going to be claimed at the campfire. I'm almost sure. When you know who your godly parent is, things might be clearer."

Clearer, I thought. Not necessarily better.

I sat up in bed. My forehead ached like someone had driven a spike between my eyes. There's no getting your mother back, my dad had told me. But apparently tonight, my mom might claim me. For the first time, I wasn't sure I wanted that.

"I hope it's Athena." I looked up, afraid Rachel might make fun of me, but the oracle just smiled.

"Piper, I don't blame you. Truthfully? I think Annabeth is hoping that too. Too. You guys are a lot alike."

The comparison made Piper feel even guitier. "Another hunch? You don't know anything about me."

"You'd be surprised."

"You're just saying that because you're an oracle, aren't you? You're supposed to sound all mysterious."

Rachel laughed. "Don't be giving away my secrets, Piper. And don't worry. Things will work out⎯just maybe not the way you plan."

"That's not making me feel better."

Somewhere in the distance a conch horn blew. Argus grumbled and opened the door.

"Dinner?" I guessed.

"You slept through it," Rachel said. "Time for the campfire. Let's go find out who you are."