Chapter 1 - Attack of the Biker Granny

It was almost the end of May and I was on a class field trip to the Met, which was especially strange for me because as far as I could tell I had never been inside a classroom to go on a class field trip anywhere. I figured I must have been dreaming. The second strange part of this dream was that I looked like myself, except a little taller, and for some reason I was definitely a boy.

Unfortunately, the knowledge that this was a dream didn't allow me to magically take control and turn it into an epic power fantasy where I slew an evil dragon and rescued a beautiful princess to live happily ever after in a castle in the sky. What? A girl could dream!

By contrast, this dream was positively boring! I sat by a fountain with someone I assumed must have been my best friend. It was odd, but I felt like I had known him for a long time. He felt... familiar. The name Grover flitted through my mind. Thinking about him evoked a strong sense of protectiveness within me. That's when I noticed the forearm crutches setting next to him. Kids can be cruel, and his disability had made him an easy target for bullying. I hated bullies more than anything, so naturally I had stood up for him. We had been friends, nearly inseparable, ever since.

I had just opened my bag lunch when a group of stereotypical T.V. show 'Mean Girls' made their approach. My attention glazed off the two other girls, fixating on the leader. She was heavily freckled, with a pale complexion and curly, copper orange hair that could have been described as fiery if she'd put in the effort.

"What do you want, Nancy?" I asked, frowning inwardly with the thought that my voice sounded wrong. It was too... scratchy.

"Mrs. Dodds told me to throw away my trash," she said, right before dumping the half-eaten remnants of her bag lunch all over my friend's head and lap. "Oh well, close enough."

Her two friends laughed along with her as I jumped to my feet, my heart racing and blood boiling. I'd never wanted to burn a mortal alive as badly as I did right then. Dimly, I heard my friend trying to calm me down over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. I felt a tugging sensation in the pit of my stomach and suddenly a massive hand made of water grabbed the bully and her lackeys before dragging them screaming and flailing into the fountain behind me.

"What just...?" I started to ask, only to be cut off.

"Mister Jackson!" It was my substitute pre-algebra teacher, Mrs. Dodds. She was a small, older woman - definitely not younger than fifty years old - wearing a black leather jacket and a scowl that would make a biker ask for his mommy. Maybe she was a biker's mommy? "Inside. Now."

My dream changed. The first thing I noticed was that I was me again. I really can't tell you how relieved I was for that! Looking around, I found myself surrounded by ancient Greek statues and relics and realized I must be in one of the exhibit halls of the museum. Just then, a boy walked in, followed closely by Biker Nonna - er... Mrs. Doddsi. He really did look a lot like me, from the same messy dark hair right down to the shape and color of his eyes. Of course, he was a bit taller than I was, but then so was almost everybody, but I could tell we were definitely the same age.

They were talking, arguing back and forth, but I wasn't paying attention. I felt like I should know who this boy was. Then it hit me. She'd called him 'Mister Jackson'. It was so long ago, half a lifetime, but the memory of a twin brother came crashing into my mind and I immediately felt an overwhelming sense of guilt rush over me. I had run away after our mom died, and hadn't spared him a second thought in the process. Now, here he was, being attacked by a monster while I was forced to watch, powerless to help him. Wait, monster?

Mrs. Dodds had turned into a shriveled hag while I was barely paying attention. Her eyes glowed like barbecue coals, her fingers grew into sharp, brass talons, and her jacket had melted into large, leathery bat wings. She bared her now sharp, yellowed fangs, and conjured a flaming whip which she was using to swing at my unarmed twin brother as he tried desperately to remember the five Ds.

I was reduced to the role of unwilling spectator, unable to do anything but watch as yet another family member was killed by a monster in front of me. I wondered why he was trying so desperately to get away from the fire whip. Something like that couldn't possible hurt him, right? As if to answer my internal thoughts, the creature's whip managed to catch my brother's arm, causing him to scream out as the flames burned into his skin. He wasn't fire proof! The creature laughed, cold and cruel, as she lashed out again. He managed to dodge again, just in time, but I could tell he was tiring.

"No," I prayed, my voice barely a whisper. "Please, gods... Anyone. Don't let him die here. Please!"

Just then, the exhibit room door slammed open and a middle-aged man in a wheelchair came in. He looked like one of the school teachers and I wanted to scream for him to get out. Instead, he shouted to my brother before pulling out a bronze xiphos from out of nowhere and throwing it across the room. Percy caught the sword in one hand, turning around and swinging in a wide arc right as the Biker Nonna From Hell abandoned her whip and flew forward, claws ready to eviscerate him. The blade made contact at the point where her neck met her shoulders, cutting deep - the creature's own momentum driving the blade deeper until she exploded in a shower of golden dust. The last thing I saw before waking up was the look of utter confusion on my twin's face.

I had no idea how long I stayed in my bed after waking up, my mind racing. How could I forget about my twin brother? How had he gotten along all this time? Where did he live? Was he a ward of the state? Why were monsters after him? Okay, that last one was pretty obvious. He was a demigod, like me. Except, he had seemed so confused by what was going on. Almost like he was unaware.

And who was that man in the wheelchair? Had the gods heard my prayer and sent someone to help? The only god I could think of that might have a wheelchair would be Hephaestus. According to the myths, he was crippled when he fell off Olympus as a baby. Of course, it was ridiculous to think that man would be the god of blacksmiths. Maybe some servant of his? He did produce a sword out of thin air, after all.

"Augh!" I grumbled, finally sitting upright.

I needed to stop thinking about what I had seen, and start figuring out what I was going to do about it. First thing to do would be compile what information I had. I climbed out of bed and began to pace.

"First," I muttered, finding it easier to order my thoughts by speaking them out loud. "I have a twin brother. Second, he's a demigod like me, except unaware. Or maybe not so unaware now. Third, monsters are definitely going after him. I had never seen or heard of anything that looked like the Biker Nonna before. The closest thing I could think of would be a harpy, but I always thought their wings were feathery. Fifth... No, fourth! An agent of the gods had intervened at a crucial moment to save my brother. Now, to put it all together.

"My brother, an unaware demigod of unknown parentage was attacked by a monster and potentially saved through divine intervention. He won't be safe anywhere in the mortal world, but also wont be able to get to Olympus," I stopped pacing. "The Hunt wont take him in since he's a boy, and the Waystation is in Indianapolis. That just leaves..."

I sighed.

The only reasonably safe place that welcomes all demigods. Camp Half-Blood in Long Island. I will be the first to admit that my opinion of the place is probably heavily colored by the opinions of my friends in the Hunt - a group girls who dedicated their lives to the goddess Artemis in exchange for immortality. There was a long rivalry between the two factions that bordered on hostile aggression. Still... It was the most likely place my brother would end up. I already knew where this train of thought was leading.

Though, I supposed it wouldn't be such a terrible thing. After all, I already knew one camper. Andromeda. A girl with dark, curly hair that made my stomach do odd flips whenever I thought about her. We had spoken once in Central Park and she had been the one to tell me about Olympus. I'd seen her a few times since, but only ever from a distance, and she always seemed to vanish like a mirage before I could get near. If I went to the camp, though, I might be able to talk to her again. Then we could become friends and hang out.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. No. If I was going to do this, it wouldn't be for myself. I would do this for my brother. I'd abandoned him once already years ago, and now he was in danger. I had to find him. I had to keep him safe. I had to go to Camp Half-Blood.