Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Rick Riordan, Greco-Roman mythology, and/or their otherwise respective owners.
Author's Notes: Redoing this chapter was pretty fun. I don't know why – probably something to do with Mr. D lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy!
~TGWSI/Selene Borealis
Τοιγάρ – Therefore
Ἒνδεσμα – Amulet
~The Finding Home Saga~
~Finding Home~
~Chapter 5: Heaven Is A Place On Earth~
You know that song by Belinda Carlisle, called Heaven Is A Place On Earth? I bet you do. I don't know of anyone that doesn't.
Anyways, for some reason, in my dreams – which didn't really make sense, anyways – it was all I could hear. And it was annoying. Like, really annoying. In fact, it was annoying enough that I woke up several times just to complain about it, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again.
At one point, though, I must've been coherent enough to actually stay awake for longer than a minute or two, because I remember the same blonde-haired guy from before hovering over me, what I thought to be a gentle smile on his face as he spoon-fed me something which tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. I didn't know for sure, though. About him smiling, I mean. I must've hit my head or something, because everything was blurry.
But I must've been onto something about him smiling, because when he saw that my eyes were open, I swore his smile widened. "Hey, how are you feeling?" he asked, and if I had been more coherent, I would've blushed at the way his deep voice washed over me like the incoming tide. It was magical.
"Like shit," I croaked in response, as it was, before adding, "Hey, can you stop the music...?"
He raised an eyebrow in an amused, but befuddled sort-of-way. "What music?"
"That song," I mumbled. How couldn't he hear it? It was. So. Loud. "You know..."
Before I could make even more of an idiot out of myself by mumbling out the accompanying lyrics, somebody knocked on the door, and the guy quickly filled my mouth with pudding. Rude, I thought mildly, before I passed out again.
Of course, the next time I woke up, he was gone.
A husky blonde dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the room instead, keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes, at least a dozen of them on his cheeks, his forehead, and even the backs of his hands.
Vaguely, I remember screaming as soon as I saw him because of it. But I don't remember much else outside of that.
When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird or scream-inducing about my surroundings, although they were a lot nicer than what I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing out across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries, and there was a blanket over my legs, with a pillow situated nicely behind my beck.
The only thing that was wrong with the entire situation was that my mouth felt like it was fucking sandpaper which had been ground against something. My tongue was dry and nasty and every single one of my teeth hurt.
On the table next to me was a tall drink. It kind of looked like iced apple juice or cider, with a green straw and a paper parasol that struck through a maraschino cherry.
I reached out for the glass and grabbed it, but my arm was so weak that I almost dropped the glass once I did.
"Careful," a familiar voice said, before chuckling softly.
Naturally, I looked up in surprise.
Katie was leaning against the porch railing, looking like she typically did – and by that, I mean there were no vines snaking their way around her arms and legs or anything. She was wearing blue denim shorts, Converse high-tops, and a bright orange T-shirt that had a black pegasus on it with black lettering my mind was somehow with it enough to read as Camp Half-Blood.
"You...you gave me quite the scare," she said softly as she walked over to help me hold the glass, her eyes not quite meeting my own. "I'm not sure how much you remember but after the – well, after what happened to your mom, you left me on the hill and I thought you were...I thought you were going to..."
She had thought I was going to die.
I swallowed nervously – which let me tell you, did absolutely nothing for my throat – before asking, "How...how long have I been out?"
"Two days," she answered quietly.
I turned away from her, to stare out across the meadow. The memories of what had happened were beginning to come back to me, from Katie arriving at our cabin door, to my mom driving like a maniac, to my mom disappearing without a trace, and etcetera.
"Is she – is my mom really dead?" I asked.
Katie sniffled. "I don't know. I didn't really see..."
But, of course, we both knew that she was lying.
I was alone. An orphan. I would have to live with...well, I'd have to live somewhere. Not with Smelly Gabe, though. There was no way in hell I was going back to him and what he did, unless someone literally dragged me back to him. But even then, if that happened, I would run away. I would live on the streets. I would even pretend to be seventeen and join the army, if it boiled down to it.
"Don't strain yourself," Katie said suddenly. She helped me bring the glass up to my face and brought the straw to my lips. "Here."
At first, I recoiled at the taste of the drink, because I had been expecting apple juice, and it didn't taste like that at all. Instead, it tasted like chocolate-chip cookies, and not just any kind of chocolate-chip cookie, either. It tasted like my mom's homemade recipe, all buttery and hot and blue, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body began to feel warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek and given me a cookie the way that she had when I was small, and told me that everything was going to be okay.
Before I knew it, I had drained the entire glass. I stared into it, because I was so sure the contents of it had been warm, but the ice cubes had barely even melted.
"Was it good?" Katie asked softly.
I nodded.
"What did it taste like?"
I frowned. "I'm sorry. I should've let you have some."
Katie laughed and shook her head. "That's okay. I already had some today and you're not really supposed to drink that much of it, anyways. Not unless you want to spontaneously combust. I just...I was just wondering, that's all."
"Oh," I said lamely, not really sure of what else to say in response. "It tasted like my mom's chocolate-chip cookies. Homemade."
She hummed in acknowledgement. "And how do you feel?"
I grinned. "Like I could kick Hudson Lake a thousand yards."
Katie laughed again, before she took the empty glass from me gingerly and set it back on the table. "That's good. Now, come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting. They want to talk to you."
I walked with her across the porch, which wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. But I didn't complain or anything, just walked, and when we came around to the opposite of the house, I caught my breath.
We must've been on the north shore of the Sound, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, there was so much to see I just simply couldn't process everything. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like Ancient Greek architecture – an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, and a circular-arena. And they all looked brand new, too, with white marble columns that sparkled in the sun, like how the Parthenon undoubtedly would've looked back in its heyday.
In a nearby sandpit, a dozen or so kids around my age were playing volleyball, while canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Katie's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode winged horses – I had to do a double take at that one – down a wooded trail which looked worn down and well-used.
It was all so much, and it all looked almost, almost like it could be –
No. I shook my head. I just had that song stuck in my head for two days, apparently, and I wasn't anxious to have it stuck in my head again for two more.
Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a table. A blonde-haired girl, one I vaguely remembered from the other night, was leaning on the porch rail next to them.
The man facing me was small and porky, with a red nose, big watery eyes, and wavy hair that was so black it was almost purple. He kind of looked like those paintings of baby angels – called cherubs, I think – except he was wearing a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt and he didn't look as nearly as happy as those cherubs usually do. For some reason, I had the feeling he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, although probably not in a bad way. He strangely seemed like the type who would've out-gambled my stepfather, and then proceeded to beat the shit out of him.
I liked him a little bit, just for that thought.
"That's Mr. D," Katie murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. And the girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here almost as long as I have. And, of course, you know Chiron..."
She pointed at the guy whose back was to me.
First, I realized that the guy was sitting in a wheelchair. Then, I recognized the tweed jacket, and relief washed over me as I realized who the guy was.
"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.
My Latin teacher turned around and smiled at me. His eyes had this mischievous glint to them, like he was going to spring a pop quiz on me again and all of the multiple choice answers would be 'B.'
"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."
He gestured for me to take the chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I'm going to have to say it, aren't I? Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."
"Uh, thanks, I guess?" I said, before I scooted away just a little bit from him for good measure. I mean, all previous thoughts aside, there was no way this guy wasn't an alcoholic and I didn't want to deal with that. Alcoholics in general just weren't fun, even without –
Enough said.
"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called out to the blonde-haired girl.
She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "Percy, this is Annabeth. She was one of the two people who helped you and Katie the other night. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go and check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in Cabin Eleven for now, I think."
Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."
She was probably around two years younger than me, I thought, although she was around my height and a lot more athletic-looking. With her deep tan and loosely-curled blonde hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical Californian girl would look like, except her eyes were a deep, stormy grey rather than a light, ocean blue. They kind of looked like Necess – Ananke's, I corrected myself. They kind of looked like Ananke's.
She turned to look at me then, with an expression that was carefully blank, like she was trying to be intimidating or something. Oh. So that's how it was. I did my best to give her a nice smile, but all she did in response was huff and sprint down the lawn, her blonde hair flying behind her.
Katie snorted. Loudly.
Mr. Brunner sighed. "Well, I suppose that was too much to ask for," he said. "Now, Percy, tell me: how much have you figured out so far? Because Katie has told me you figured out quite a bit before everything, well...happened."
"Well," I said, as I nervously watched Mr. D shuffle the cards. "I know that the Greek myths have to exist, because Mrs. Dodds was obviously a monster and the Mino – Pasiphaë's son," I corrected myself, when I noticed the look he gave me then, as if he was about to interject, "exists. Also, Katie said she was a daughter of Demeter and everyone is calling you Chiron, which was the name of the trainer of heroes in the Greek myths. Τοιγάρ, the Greek myths exist."
I blinked in surprise as soon as I finished speaking. Did I just seriously say "τοιγάρ?" What the fuck did that mean?
"Oh, I like this one," Mr. D said giddily as he doled out the cards, before I could even think to ask that question out loud. "Smart. And not in a way that's obnoxious, like my dear half-sister's children."
"I must say, Percy," Mr. Brunner – Chiron broke in. "I'm glad to see that you're alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper, or since another camper has been called in to watch over a potential one. I'd hate to think that we'd wasted our time."
"House call, sir?" I asked.
"Our year at Yancy Academy," he explained. "Usually, campers find their way here because they've either been sent by their mortal parent, or because they received a vision from their godly one. But Katie, here..."
"I received a message from my mother telling me to find you," she interrupted. "So, I did. Then, when I realized that there was something special about you, I told Chiron to come upstate."
"Wait," I said. "Hold on. Demeter told you to come find me? Why? What makes me so special?"
Mr. D snorted. Chiron glanced at him, almost in a warning way, before he turned to look back at me. "One thing you must understand, Percy," he said. "Is that the gods can be...secretive. sometimes, they know things that no one else, not even the other gods, know."
"That's one way of putting it," Mr. D muttered. "Peter, you do know how to play pinochle, right?"
I stared at him, unblinking for several moments, before I realized he must've been referring to me when he said that, and that it must've been my turn for the card game but I hadn't done anything yet. "It's Percy, sir," I said. "And I'm afraid I don't."
"'Sir,'" he repeated humorously. "Well, Peter, pinochle is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know it."
...You know, I was starting to like him less and less.
"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.
"No matter," Mr. D replied, before snapping his fingers. In an instant, all of the pinochle cards disappeared, causing Katie to give him an irritated look. I'm sure he must've seen it, but he ignored her in favor of gazing at me with his bloodshot eyes. "What else do you know? You know the obvious but you're not telling it. Speak."
"Mr. D," Chiron warned.
Now, it probably would've been really interesting to see just how Chiron could've chewed out Mr. D – because I had a feeling that the guy was a lot more powerful than my Latin teacher – but I didn't let him do that. Because as much as I wanted to, there was an itch at the back of mind that just had to be scratched, and I'd been dancing around it ever since Katie had first revealed to me that she was a daughter of Demeter.
"I'm a demigod, aren't I?" I asked.
"That's debatable," Mr. D said with a wave of his hand. Suddenly, a goblet appeared of the table and filled itself with red wine.
Chiron barely even looked at it. "Mr. D, your restrictions."
Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me," he said, before he cast his eyes skywards and shouted, "Old habits! Sorry!"
Despite the clear day, thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance.
Mr. D waved his hand again, except this time, the goblet changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top off of the sea, and looked out at the valley with a frown.
Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back – took fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."
"A wood nymph," I repeated, while I may or may not have stared at the Diet Coke as if it had come from outer space.
Although, to be fair, for all I knew it probably had.
"Yes!" Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, the Prohibition. Ghastly! What an absolutely horrid ten years! The second time – well, she was really pretty and I couldn't stay away – the second time he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. A place for brats like you and Kathleen here. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha! Absolutely unfair and hypocritical. Not to mention, that's not what she said."
Katie coughed slightly.
I stared at him unfathomably for a few moments, before something in my head finally clicked. "You're Dionysus, aren't you?" I asked. "The god of wine."
Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do the kids say these days, Kathleen? Do they say, 'Well duh?'"
"Yes, sir," Katie said with a wrinkling of her nose.
"Then, well, duh!" he said, and smacked the table for emphasis. I resisted the urge to flinch. Yep, I wasn't liking him at all now. "Did you think that I was Aphrodite, perhaps? Or Apollo?"
I ignored his jab. "Wait, what did you mean when you said, 'that's debatable?'"
"Hmm," Mr. D replied. "Not as smart as I thought. I'm surprised. What I meant, boy, was that obviously someone up there finds you special, and that could be for a number of reasons. Maybe because you're their kid, or maybe because you're the kid of someone else. Like, say, a titan. Probably not a primordial, though." He paused and squinted at me. "You don't seem to have the symptoms of one, anyways."
I was about to ask him what he meant by that, but then he yawned and stood up. "I'm tired," he said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight."
And with that, he swept into the farmhouse.
I turned back to face Chiron and Katie. "So, is that it? Am I really a...?"
"Half-blood?" Chiron supplied. When I nodded, he continued, "Yes, Percy. For now, though, don't dwell on that. Because right now, we should get you a bunk in Cabin Eleven. There will be new friends to meet, and plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."
And then, much to my surprise, Chiron rose from the wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it, because while the blankets fell away from his legs, they didn't movie. Instead, his waist kept getting longer and longer, rising above his belt. Belatedly, I realized that his waist was not a human waist, but an animal one – specifically, that of a white horse. Which made sense, I also realized, because in the myths Chiron was a centaur.
Nevertheless, I couldn't help but stare as he finished getting out of the wheelchair, which must've been charmed with magic or something like that, like Katie's ἒνδεσμα probably was. I'm pretty sure my mouth even dropped open.
"What a relief," he said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."
Word Count: 3,415
Next Chapter Title: Does Love At Third Sight Exist?
