CHAPTER NINE
I Am Offered A Quest
I don't own Percy Jackson.
The next morning, Chiron moved her to cabin three.
She didn't have to share with anybody. She had plenty of room for all her stuff: the Minotaur's horn, one set of spare clothes that Luke had stolen her the night before, and a toiletry bag. She got to sit at her own dinner table, pick all her own activities, call "lights out" whenever she felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.
And she was absolutely miserable.
Just when she had started to feel accepted, to feel she had a home in Cabin eleven and that she might be a normal kid—or as normal as one could be when they were a half-blood—she had been separated out as if she had some rare disease.
Nobody mentioned the hellhound to her face, but she knew that everybody was talking about it behind her back, as Will had kindly informed her. Grover told her that Will had yelled at anybody who talked about it in front of him, which made her feel a little better about the situation, but not by much. She knew the attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that Percy was the daughter of the Sea God; and two, monsters would stop at nothing to kill her. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.
Annabeth still taught Percy Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Anytime Percy said something or asked a question, Annabeth scowled, like Percy had just poked her in the eyes. After a couple of days, Percy learned to just keep her comments and questions to herself and not bother Annabeth, but then she ended up having to pester Grover about the questions she never ended up asking Annabeth.
After lessons, Annabeth would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest... Poseidon?... Dirty rotten... Got to make a plan..."
Even Clarisse kept her distance, though Percy didn't know if it was because she was truly scared of her, which didn't make any sense, or if it was just social suicide to talk or associate themselves with Percy. Probably the latter, though Percy strongly suspected that her siblings had convinced Clarisse to not go after her. She shot Percy venomous glares that made it clear she wanted to murder her for breaking her magic spear, and Percy found herself wishing that Clarissewould yell at her or punch her or something. She would've rather gotten into fights than be ignored every day.
Everybody else followed in her example. Everybody who got within ten feet of her apparently had to find something else to do and ran off. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with her, though she didn't know why, but her lessons with Luke became one-on-one. He was one of the only people who didn't care about her parentage, and pushed her harder than he had ever pushed her, and wasn't afraid to bruise her up in the process.
"You're going to need all the training you can get," he promised, as they were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."
Luke, however, had to train other kids, and the one-on-one lessons were taking up his free periods, so Will had stepped up to help her too.
The first time she had seen him waiting for her in the arena after Luke had told her that someone had also agreed to help her, she had turned around and marched right back out.
"Percy!" Will had called, running after her. "Wait!"
She had, but only because she hadn't wanted to look mean, because there had been people walking past them and were stealing curious glances.
"What?" she had snapped. "Come to convince me to annoy Clarisse so that you, Luke, and Annabeth can win another game again? God, I can't believe I thought you were being nice to me because you were nice! Serves me right for being that gullible, huh? At least Luke had the guts to apologize! And what's your problem with him, anyway? He's been a lot nicer to me than you've been."
Will's smile had faded, and an annoyed look had crossed his face. "Percy, I swear it upon the River Styx, I had no idea what Annabeth's plan was. She told me that all she wanted to do was to keep you out of the way and from getting hurt. I even asked about Clarisse and she promised me that she'd stick with you so that you didn't get hurt. But you know what?" His icy eyes fixed themselves onto hers. "You know who did know Annabeth's plan? Luke. He didn't care, Percy. And you don't get to judge my opinion of him. You don't know anything about him."
Then he had marched past her and that had been the end of the lesson that day, leaving Percy feeling a lot worse, which she hadn't thought was possible.
Will had still waited for her the next day though, sharpening his knife, but he didn't look up when she entered, starting in surprise when she saw him.
"Will," she said awkwardly. "I'm... sorry. I shouldn't have assumed. I just... I didn't know."
"I know. But trust me, Percy. Not everybody is who you think they are."
Percy frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I'm good at telling when people are lying. It's another gift I got from Dad. And I know you won't believe me when I tell you this, but there's something off about..." he stopped himself. "You know what? It doesn't matter."
Percy had thought that, compared to Luke, Will would've been easier to fight.
She had been so, so wrong.
Will might've been nicer about it, but he was brutal too. Even worse, he was a medic, which meant that he knew exactly what kinds of injuries she could get and still be fine, which meant that he had pushed her even harder than Luke. Also, he had brought his medicinal supplies with him, so whenever she did actually get injured, he'd just heal her up in about ten seconds and they'd start all over again.
Unlike Luke, Will fought with a long, white knife that he said had been a gift from his father. It was only about two feet long, as compared to the usual three, but it didn't affect his skills at all. He was a formidable opponent, nearly taking her head off more times than she would've liked to admit. What was worse was that he admitted to her that he didn't train very often with his knife, mainly preferring to stick with his bow. By practicing with her, though, he joked that he was getting back all the training he had missed, which made Percy wonder just how good he would've been had he practiced more.
Percy went to bed feeling like she had been run over by about five different trucks.
That was how her days went, mostly. Training with Luke in the mornings, when nobody else but them were awake, and training with Will in the afternoon, the only time he really had a break. She asked him about infirmary duty, worried about interrupting his schedule, bu he had just waved his hand with a grin and told her that Michael Yew, the second-in-command of the Apollo cabin, had stepped up to take over half of Will's shift when he had explained that he needed to train Percy.
Will had, of course, offered Michael the job of helping her, but Michael hadn't taken it. Will was the oddball in the Apollo cabin—he was one of the few people who actually took sword-fighting more or less seriously. The others preferred to stick to their bows, and Percy was abysmal at archery, so there was nothing Michael could've done anyway. At least, that's what Will told her. Percy had a feeling it was because Michael didn't want anything to do with her.
Percy had learned to carry a pouch of water wherever she went. Will had suggested it when he realized how beneficial it would be for her to have water at hand if she could heal herself with it, and it had been weird in the beginning, but she had gotten used to it with time. Besides, having the water near her was calming, for some reason, and she thought she sounded insane when she admitted it to Will, but he had just smiled and told her that he got the same feeling from the sun. Sunlight might not have healed him, but at least it energized him.
Luke, however, had insisted that Percy leave the water behind for their lessons. He explained that she couldn't always rely on having it, because there was bound to be a time where she didn't have any water on her and she had to fight, but she'd be so accustomed to having it that her skills would worsen. He told her the best way to train was to train without water and then, when she left camp, to have it on her for real fights, but for training, it was better to push herself just in case.
When she had mentioned it was Will's idea to carry it around, though, the faintest sneer had crossed his face before it disappeared, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it or not. Seriously, what was going on between Annabeth, Will, and Luke? Why did Will and Luke hate each other so much? When she had asked Will, he had told her that she wouldn't understand, and Luke had brushed it off and pretended like they didn't occasionally shoot each other venomous glares.
That afternoon, half an hour before dinner, when Percy had a short break, she found Hestia at the hearth, staring at the flickering flames with an expression of the utmost concentration.
"You knew, didn't you?" she asked the goddess. "My father."
Hestia didn't reply for a while. "We all had our guesses," she said at last.
"That's why you said Poseidon couldn't claim me. He swore on the Styx that he wouldn't father another half-blood. Now that he's broken his oath and admitted it... am I going to suffer the same way Thalia did?"
"Some want you dead, I will not lie. But you have made friends in this camp. People who would be willing to defend you; people whose parents would not be pleased if their children were smote. Chiron himself vouches for your honor. And the others fear the wrath of Poseidon, of course. They may wish you ill, but you have powerful allies, Percy. That is all Poseidon needed to confirm before he could claim you. He needed to ensure you would be safe."
"So... Zeus won't kill me?" she asked tentatively.
Hestia smiled. "No. Especially after I agreed with Poseidon that you are to be left alone. You see, I may not be an Olympian, but I still am the oldest of the gods. My word carries much weight." Her lips twitched in amusement. "Especially since I am Zeus' elder sister. He would not wish to displease me."
Percy laughed. She hadn't done that much in the last few days, but it felt nice. "Thanks, I guess. For telling Zeus to not kill me."
"Of course." The conch horn blew. "But I daresay it's time for dinner."
Like with offerings, Percy was supposed to lead the other cabins to dinner, which was possibly the most humiliating thing in the world. Everybody paid attention to her because nobody really cared about what the others were doing. Besides, she was the new kid. If she messed up, which she knew was bound to happen soon, everybody would see and they'd probably laugh. Or maybe not. They seemed to be under the impression that if they insulted her to her face, they'd get turned into a patch of seaweed.
Usually, she didn't have to worry about tossing in extra offerings for the other gods, because most people were eating already and not paying attention to her, but now that she was going first, and it was only after she was done that they could start digging in, she stumbled over her prayers half the time. She still offered Hermes a portion of her meal, mainly because she felt weird if she just randomly stopped, but she did give him a smaller part and prayed that he understood.
Then she'd go back to her table and hope that she didn't trip and fall on her face. Afterward, she had to suffer eating alone while everybody else laughed and joked with their siblings.
That night, though, went from okay to worse, which shouldn't really have been possible.
When she went back to her cabin after a half-hearted singalong where most people gave her a five-foot wide space, she found a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article took her almost an hour to read, because the angrier she got, the more the words floated around on the page.
GIRL AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER FREAK CAR ACCIDENT
BY EILEEN SMYTHE
Sally Jackson and daughter Persephone (though known to peers as Percy) are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding.
Mother and daughter had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances. Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident.
Ms. Jackson's husband, GabeUgliano, claims that his stepdaughter, Percy Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past.
Police would not say whether daughter Percy is a suspect in her mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Percy. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline.
The phone number was circled in black marker, and somebody had scribbled next to it, Should I call?
Angrily, she wadded up the paper and chucked it across the room, but it brought her no satisfaction. Maybe if she had an anvil instead...
"Lights out," she said to herself miserably.
That night, she had her worst dream yet.
She was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind her. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance.
About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, and the wind rose.
She had to stop them. She didn't know why. But the harder she ran, the more the wind blew her back, until she was running in place, her heels digging uselessly in the sand.
Over the roar of the storm, she could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, Give it back! Give it back!like a kindergartner fighting over a toy.
The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying her with salt.
She yelled, Stop it! Stop fighting!
The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned her blood to ice.
Come down, little hero, the voice crooned. Come down!
The sand split beneath her, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. Her feet slipped, and darkness swallowed her.
Percy woke up with a scream caught in her throat, sure she was falling.
It took her a moment to remember: she was still in cabin three, possibly morning, though it was dark outside. Shivering, but not from the cold, she threw off her covers and padded toward her window to glance outside. A crack of thunder made her jump, and, in the distance, she saw a flash of lightning, followed by another roaring boom in less than a second. The storm was real—she hadn't dreamed that—and it was close.
A loud banging caused her to jump again.
Someone was knocking on her door and, against her better judgement, she called, "Come in!"
She almost smiled in relief when she saw that it was only Grover. Respectfully, he didn't enter, but he looked worried. "Mr D wants to see you."
Her smile fell off. "What? Why?"
"He wants to kill... I mean, I'd better let him tell you."
Hands shaking, Percy promised that she'd be out as soon as she could and closed the door to brush her teeth and change. She had been planning on showering that morning (the only good thing about being the only person in the Poseidon cabin was that she didn't have to share her bathroom with anyone), but she decided against it. If she made Mr D wait for her to shower... well, she'd assume he wouldn't be happy.
Ten minutes later, she was following Grover to the Big House, sure she was in huge trouble.
Hestia might've told her that the gods weren't planning on killing her, but Percy had still been half-expecting a summon to the Big House for the last week, ever since she had been claimed. As a daughter of Poseidon, it must've been a crime just for her to be alive, which seemed so unfair, but it wasn't like she could do anything about it. The gods had probably all been debating the best way to punish her for it and now, Mr D was ready to deliver their verdict.
Shut up, she tried to tell herself. Hestia already told you that the gods aren't going to hurt you. They're too scared of Poseidon to do that, and she wouldn't lie to you... right?
Then Percy told herself to shut up again.
Will had told her that it didn't rain in the valley, but she hadn't believed him until she had seen a few rain clouds skirt around the edge of the valley. Then Will had folded his arms with a smug look that turned offended when Percy whacked his arm, but it had quickly turned into a grin when he realized she wasn't actually mad.
Still, it was hard to convince herself of that. The sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil, a hazy curtain of rain coming in their direction. The Apollo kids were playing a morning game of volleyball against the satyrs, but Percy didn't see Will there, possibly because he was in the infirmary for his shift. A little further were the Dionysus twins and the Demeter kids, walking around in the strawberry fields and making the plants grow. They were all going about their normal business, but Percy could tell, even from so far away, that they looked tense. It was a bit of a relief to know she wasn't the only one nervous about the storm.
Mr D and Chiron were waiting for her on the porch of the Big House, playing a game of pinochle against a pair of invisible opponents—two sets of cards were hovering in the air. As they approached, Mr D took a long drink of his Diet Coke, not looking up from his cards, while Chiron fiddled nervously with his cards in his fake wheelchair, trying to offer Percy a smile, but it looked pained.
"Well, well," Mr D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity."
Percy didn't say anything.
"Come closer," Mr D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle Beard is your father."
He can't hurt you, Percy chanted to herself. He can't hurt you, he can't hurt you, he can't hurt you...
Lightning flashed across the clouds, accompanied shortly by thunder that shook the windows of the house.
"Blah, blah, blah," Mr D said.
Chiron pretended to find his pinochle cards fascinating all of a sudden, and Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth. She knew that Mr D was a god, and a powerful one at that, but she was so irritated with the god that she wondered bitterly why Grover didn't ever just find the courage to stand up to Mr D. Clearly, all the satyrs and even Mr D belittled Grover, which was probably the reason for his low self-esteem, which made her want to punch the god in front of her even more.
Amazingly, she resisted the urge.
"If I had my way," Mr D said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."
"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr D," Chiron said.
"Nonsense," Mr D said. "The girl wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."
"Mr D—" Chiron warned.
"Oh, all right," Mr D relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolish." He rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the girl is still here when I get back, I'll turn her into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Persephone Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."
Mr D twisted a card in his hand, and then he snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind. It was only a couple seconds later that Percy realized he had been holding a security pass, but why a literal Olympianneeded a security pass to go to Olympus was beyond her.
Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Percy, please. And Grover."
They did.
Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.
"Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"
She stared at him incredulously. She knew he was half-hoping that she'd say something like, Heck, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast, but he knew that she had been scared out of her mind. Why else would she have reacted the way she had reacted? If she hadn't actually been terrified, she wouldn't have been so useless.
But she didn't say any of that.
Instead, she said simply, "It scared me. If you and Will hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."
Chiron grimaced. Clearly, he had known that was going to be her answer, but a part of him had still been hoping that she'd say something else. Honestly, why would she have said something else? She had been told of the Greek gods' existence less than two weeks ago, and had just spent the last week training until she couldn't feel her limbs anymore, and despite all that, still couldn't even faze Luke. And Chiron seriously was hoping that she'd be able to say that she had no problem? Hadn't he been there when it used her as a chew toy? Was he just trying to humiliate her?
"You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done."
Percy blinked. "Done ... with what?"
"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?"
Quest.
She thought back to her conversation with Annabeth and Will and Luke. Will had mentioned something about the Oracle, and Luke had elaborated on something about prophecies and how they were related to quests, and how Chironhadn't allowed any more since the last time Luke went on one and it had apparently ended badly.
She glanced at Grover, hoping that he'd provide some clarity to the situation, but he was only crossing his fingers without looking at her.
Quest.
She recalled something Grover had told her—he hadn't been allowed to get a searcher's license because their lives were still intertwined, and it was only if she got a quest and if he accompanied her and they both came back alive that he'd finally get his shot.
She made up her mind.
"What is it? The quest, that is."
Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part: the details."
Percy thought about her dreams, of the eagle and the horse and the two men in their green and blue togas; of the weather recently, since winter break, of how the sky and the sea seemed to boil together, of how the sea and the sky seemed to be fighting; and of her conversation with Will that she had almost forgotten about but seemed to whisper in her ear all the details she had forgotten.
"Something was stolen," Percy said, cutting through the thundering silence. "Something valuable. And Zeus and Poseidon are fighting about it." At their stunned expressions, she explained, "The weather's been weird since winter break, like the sea and the sky are fighting, and Will mentioned... he said that both he and Annabeth overheard something about a theft."
She almost mentioned the dreams, but then she decided that she didn't want to seem crazy.
Chiron looked surprised, but he said, "That's right. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."
For a moment, the only sounds in the Big House were the crackling of fire and booming thunder.
"A what now?" Percy asked, laughing nervously, hoping she had heard wrong.
"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."
"Oh."
"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclopes for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."
"Oh." That seemed to be all she could say lately, but who could blame her? "And it's missing?"
"Stolen," Chiron said.
"By who?"
"By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you."
Percy stared at him.
Did she mishear him? Did he just accuse her of stealing possibly the most powerful weapon in the world when he himself knew that she definitely hadn't known about the gods until about two weeks ago? Did he just accuse her, Percy Jackson, a twelve-year-old girl who could barely write her own name of somehow becoming the greatest thief in the world? Had he mistaken her for another Percy Jackson who was the daughter of Hermes?
Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Chiron hastily continued, "At least,"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' etcetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."
"Well, first off, those laws sound stupid, and second of all, there is no freaking way—"
"Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his daughter. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief."
Percy opened and closed her mouth a few times, gaping like a fish. "But I've never even been to Olympus! I didn't even know the gods were real until two weeks ago! Zeus is crazy!"
Okay, so maybe she shouldn't have said that out loud. And she had been so good at refraining from insulting the gods out loud too...
Thunder boomed at her words, and Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around them, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over the valley, sealing them in like a coffin lid.
"Er, Percy ...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."
"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam..."
Percy was too busy getting angry at how much of a child Zeus was being to even realize how dumb Chiron'sassumption that she'd remember question thirty-eight on his exam was. How could anyone accuse her of stealing a god's weapon? She couldn't even steal a slice of pizza from Gabe's poker party without getting busted. But Chiron was waiting for an answer, so Percy had to wrack her brains for it.
"Something about a golden net?" she guessed. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods ... they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"
"Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw."
"But I'm just a kid!"
"Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"
"But that's not fair!" she protested. "What about—what about Thalia? I doubt my dad accused her of trying to steal his trident or something! He thinks I'm so bad for existing, but he broke the oath first, so really, shouldn't it be Poseidon getting mad at him? Why can't Thalia be a weapon for Zeus just as much as he's accusing me of being Poseidon's?"
Grover sucked in a breath as thunder boomed again. "Percy, please, for the love of Zeus, stop talking."
She decided to go for safer grounds. "Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?"
Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?"
"Bad?" she guessed.
"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."
"Bad," she repeated. It seemed like the understatement of the year.
"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."
It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.
Percy was furious. So Zeus didn't know who the actual thief was and he decided to blame a twelve-year-old kid simply because he didn't like her dad? What kind of medieval logic was that? Instead of actually trying to find the thief, the most powerful of the gods ended up deciding to convince himself an actual child was smart and capable enough of stealing from a bunch of gods she hadn't even known existed? And, as if trying to cement in the fact that he was a literal child, he decided to punish the whole camp because of her by making it storm.
Percy was beyond furious.
"So I have to find the stupid bolt," she ground out, trying to keep her temper in check, but every syllable trmebled with rage. "And return it to Zeus. And, just to be clear, I did not steal it. Right?"
"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the daughter of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"
"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?"
"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago ... well, some of the lines make sense to me now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."
"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"
"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."
Percy wasn't sure where he thought the bolt was, but at the moment, she was angry enough to go anywhere just to find it and throw it back in Zeus' ungrateful face. "Right. Where do I sign up?"
"You... you accept?" Chiron asked, looking surprised.
She nodded.
"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle. Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."
She wished he hadn't been so ominous. Those words were enough to bring a chill to her spine, and to dissipate some of her anger.
Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trap-door.
She pulled the cord, the door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place.
The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else... a smell she remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes. Percy shuddered. She had never been fond of snakes. Not since Gabethreatened to poison her with one when she had been younger. Trying to push down those memories, she held her breath and climbed.
The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things—severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, and other various parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD # , WOODSTOCK, N.Y., .
Percy would've checked out some of the stuff if she wasn't half-afraid that all of them held some terrible curse.
By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead a long, long time.
Percy could understand why Will had called the Oracle an it.
The very sight of the Oracle was enough to send chills up her spine. What kind of summer camp made kids consult a rotting mummy to learn about the epic-death quest they were expected to go on and probably die on? Maybe it was some sort of gruesome joke, she thought faintly. Like, the mummy was supposed to be reflecting them in a week or two. The thought didn't soothe her at all. In fact, Percy called herself an idiot a couple times just for thinking that.
As Percy contemplated all her nervous thoughts, a green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. Percy yelped in surprise and terror and stumbled over herself trying to get to the trapdoor, but it slammed shut. Inside her head, she heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around her brain: I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.
Something kept her rooted.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. The mummy was dead. It couldn't hurt her. All it was now was some sort of container of sorts, for a power that was now swirling around her in the green mist. But its presence didn't feel evil, like her demonic math teacher Mrs Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates she'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing her, either.
It was then that Percy realized she didn't exactly know how to get a prophecy, but she tried, "What is my destiny?"
The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of her and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabeand his buddies.
Her fists clenched, though she knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist. That didn't keep her from wanting to punch mist-Gabe in the face a few times, though. Maybe she could, if it weren't even actually Gabe, though she doubted the Oracle would appreciate that...
Gabe turned toward her and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.
His buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice: You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.
The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.
Finally, Eddie, their building super, delivered the worst line of all: And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.
The figures began to dissolve. At first, Percy was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, she cried, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"
The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.
Percy got the feeling that she could stand there until she had cobwebs, too, and she wouldn't learn anything else.
Her audience with the Oracle was over.
"Well?" Chiron asked her when she came back downstairs.
Percy slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."
Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"
"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important."
Percy's ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She... she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."
"I knew it," Grover said.
Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"
Percy wanted to laugh. She wanted to repeat the lines to him and have him laugh with her, because, okay. So Zeus was accusing her of stealing his lighting bolt or whatever. Fine, she could accept that. People sometimes went insane from having an audience with the Oracle and yet she still had to get a prophecy from them. Seemed like the perfect touch to a death camp. A rotting mummy sprouted green mist while predicting how they'd die? Whatever. But the Oracle telling her that she'd be betrayed and then she'd fail?
That was where she drew the line.
But she didn't tell Chiron any of that. How could she?
"No," she said. "That's about it."
He studied her face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."
He must've known she was holding back something bad, and was trying to make her feel better, but it didn't really work. The Oracle had been pretty clear about those two lines.
"Okay," she said, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"
"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"
"Somebody else who wants to take over?" she guessed.
"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."
"Hades?"
Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."
A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh—what?"
"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young woman until she was sure of her identity, then tried to kill her. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."
"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a daughter of Poseidon..."
"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before she can take on the quest."
Percy was frowning. While she didn't hold any love for Mrs Dodds, she remembered what her demon math teacher had asked her to do: confess. Confess what? What could Hades want her to confess to? Stealing the bolt? Maybe he needed her to confess so he could blame it all on her and then call it a day? Then she realized that Hades had been a second god who was convinced she had stolen the bolt before she had even realized that gods existed and a bubble of annoyance burst in her.
"You know, if the gods even had half the common sense they claim to have..." Percy muttered.
Wisely, she didn't finish the sentence, but Chiron gave her a warning glance.
"But a quest to..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."
"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."
Percy wanted to take Hades by the shoulders and shake him violently.
Seriously, what was up with bad guys and wanting to rule the world? She couldn't imagine herself doing something like that. All the paperwork, all the things needed to run the world—figuring out trade, keeping up communications, making sure people didn't start fighting each other... it sounded like a nightmare. Besides, wasn't he already the king of the Underworld? Why did he need to rule the upper world? Wasn't he called the Rich one? Besides, everything Zeus could do, Hades could do.
Also... Percy was beginning to realize there was a big piece of the puzzle missing. She had a feeling Hades wouldn't be trying to actually take over the world. If he wanted to, he would've done that ages ago. Besides, if Hades was unhappy with the treatment he got, he would've had to have been insane to do something like this. What was the best-case scenario, that everybody on Olympus was terrified of him? Any good ruler knew that to be loved was better than being feared, and Hades was probably a pretty good ruler.
But what choice did she have? It wasn't like she had any other clue anywhere. Chiron was giving her a destination, and she would've been a fool not to take it. And yet, if she was wrong... she only had days before the solstice. If she were wrong, she definitely didn't have time to go and actually scour the entire country for the bolt. At least, maybe, if the gods were watching, they had already figured out that she was telling the truth. That she wasn't actually a thief.
The thought made her a little braver.
The same couldn't be said for Grover.
Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.
The poor guy needed to complete a quest with her so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was, but how could she ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said she was destined to fail? This was suicide.
"Look, if we know it's Hades," she asked Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."
"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"
"You're saying I'm being used."
"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."
Her dad needed her.
She thought about what Hestia had said, that Poseidon had been trying to protect her when he hadn't claimed her openly, because he knew he'd only be making her a target for enemies. He had only claimed her... he had claimed her after she had settled into the camp, she realized. Only after there was no way anyone could deny her parentage. After she had made friends, friends that she cared about and who cared about her. And if he had been trying to protect her ever since she had arrived at camp, what were the chances he had protected her long before she had arrived?
She looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's daughter all along, haven't you?"
"I had my suspicions. As I said ... I've spoken to the Oracle, too."
She got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling her about his prophecy, but she decided she couldn't worry about that right now. After all, she was holding back information too.
"So let me get this straight," she said. "I'm supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."
"Check," Chiron said.
"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."
"Check."
"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."
"That's about right."
She looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.
"Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly.
"You don't have to go," she told him honestly. "I can't ask that of you.
"Oh..." He shifted his hooves. "No... it's just that satyrs and underground places... well... " He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."
Percy was so relieved she almost cried, but she didn't think that it would've been very heroic. Grover was the only person alive she trusted with her life—he was her best friend. She didn't know what a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but she knew that he would do his best to protect her, and that was all she could ask of him.
"All the way, G-man." She turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west."
"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."
"Where?"
Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."
"Oh," she said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—"
"No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"
She shook her head hesitantly. Her mom had never taken her anywhere by plane, always claiming that it was because they never had the money, and that her parents had died in a plane crash and she still had bad memories about it. Now that she thought about it, though, if her father was actually Poseidon, there was already a certain god accusing her of something impossible just for her parentage...
"Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the daughter of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."
Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed.
"Okay," she said, determined not to look at the storm and not give Zeus the satisfaction. "So, I'll travel overland."
"That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered, if you will accept her help."
"Gee," she said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?"
The air shimmered behind Chiron.
Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.
"I've been waiting a long time for a quest," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."
"Maybe, but I'm not bringing you."
Annabeth looked very smug, opening her mouth to speak, but then the rest of Percy's sentence caught up with her and she managed to splutter out, "What?"
Even Chiron and Grover looked confused.
"I don't like you, Annabeth," Percy said matter-of-factly. "You know why? I thought you were cool. I thought we could be friends. But then you used me as bait just so you could have Luke win, and then you never bothered to apologize for it like Luke and Will did. Also, you've been treating me like the gum under your shoe ever since I've been claimed. I get it, you have a stupid rivalry by my dad, but how smart of the children of the wisdom goddess to hold a grudge against someone they barely know just for their parentage. Why should I let you go along when all you're going to do is insult me and insist we can't get along? Isn't that the whole point of a quest?"
"But I'm the best person to keep you from messing up!" She stomped her foot in frustration. "I don't understand! Why would you let me come along?"
"Maybe if you hadn't been so mean. Maybe if you apologized for what you did. Maybe if you hadn't been foolish enough to bring our parents into this mess. But you know what? You did. You didn't even make an effort to be friends with me, and I can't work with someone like that. Not if working together is the only way we're going to make it out of this alive." Percy turned to Chiron, ignoring the gaping blonde. "I can deny her help, right?"
Chiron shifted his hooves nervously.
"My dear," he said, "let's not be rash about this. Annabeth... she is your best bet. You also don't know if anybody else wants to come."
"I want Will."
To Percy's surprise, Annabeth didn't complain, possibly because her pride didn't let her, but Percy had still been expecting her to huff and groan and gripe about the situation, or even try and demand Chiron to force her to allow her on the quest. Instead, she stood there, clutching her hat so tightly her knuckles turned white, her wide eyes staring at Percy, but she didn't say anything.
Instead, it was Chiron who, looking surprised, said, "What?"
"I want Will to be on this quest."
Chiron sighed. "Grover, will you go to the infirmary and get Will Solace?"
It turned out that Grover didn't even need to get him.
Roughly five seconds later, Will came flying down the valley, shaking a bunch of papers in his fist, looking outraged.
"Kyle!" He hissed in anger to Chiron, seemingly not noticing the tense situation. "He's been messing up all our medical history and records; it took Michael and I three hours to sort through that mess and in that time, do you know how many people could've died? Thankfully, we only had to treat minor injuries, but—" He broke off when he noticed the rest of them. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?"
"Um—"
"Chiron says three people can go on a quest," Percy said hurriedly, interrupting Grover, "and I was hoping you'd be the third person? Oh, yeah, I got a quest. And, um, I have to go to the Underworld to get back the Master Bolt which Hades apparently stole and return it to Zeus by the Summer Solstice. But I succeed! I think."
Will stared at her for so long, unmoving, that he could've been a statue. How he managed to do that was beyond her.
Then, as if he was just checking correctly, he said, "You're asking me to go on a quest to the Underworld with you to retrieve Zeus' Master Bolt which Hades stole, return it by the Summer Solstice, and the Oracle told you you succeed?"
"Well, you can say no—"
"No, I want to go," he said immediately, cutting her off.
"You... you do? But it's the Underworld. And Hades. And—"
"I know. I heard you the first time. And I repeated it to you and you confirmed it, Seaweed Brain. I'm still going. You are a magnet for trouble, and you'll definitely need a healer." Then he paused. "Wait, when are we leaving?"
"This afternoon," Chiron decided before she could even figure it out. "We can take you three as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, I'm afraid, you're on your own."
Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.
"No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."
Another long chapter done, and I too am done. This one was so long, at almost 10k words, but you know what? It's okay. At last, the quest begins, and so can the plot. Also, to any of you Annabeth lovers out there: don't worry, I love Annabeth too. I just needed this to happen for plot reasons, but I'm definitely going to start adding her to the plot in the later books. After all, even in an alternate universe, Percy and Annabeth are probably destined to be friends.
The next chapter, according to my old word count, is a bit shorter, though not by much, so maybe I'll finish earlier?
As always, thank you readers and reviewers!