Chapter 5: Camp Half-Blood

Hello, I turned 18 this week :). So as a little treat from me, you get a double upload. And yes, I'm 18, and I still write PJO fics. Allow me XD


Percy woke up with a start. He looked around for a moment before realising that he was in no imminent danger. He was sat on a deck chair, a blanket over his legs and a pillow behind his neck, making him feel comfortable. But his mouth was extremely dry.

On the table next to him was a drink. It looked like iced apple juice with a green straw in it. He tried to grab it, but his hands were so weak he could barely move it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against a porch tree. He looked like he hadn't slept all week. He was wearing an orange t-shirt that had the words CAMP HALF-BLOOD written on it, along with blue jeans. He was cradling a shoe box under his arms.

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I… well, the least I could do… I went back to the hill. I thought you might want it."

He placed the shoe box in his lap. Inside was the horn that Percy had torn off the monster, the tip splattered with dried blood. He remembered how he had brutally stabbed the creature and how angry he had been.

"The Minotaur," he said.

"Uh, Percy. It isn't a good idea–"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" he demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull. Formerly known as Asterion. Son of Pasiphae. Stepson of King Minos. The monster that ruled the labyrinth till Theseus killed it."

Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for a while Percy. What do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she…"

He looked down. Percy sighed. He knew she was gone; he remembered what had happened.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm—I'm the worst satyr in the world."

"No, you're not Grover." Percy said, wringing his own wrists. "It's mine. I should've been quicker. If I had been, I could've saved her as well."

He remembered what the voice had told him when trying to help him fight the monster. His mother needed his protection. And he had failed. That was his responsibility. Not Grover's.

"Yes it was Percy. It was my job to protect you. I was your keeper I failed."

"You got me here," he argued, but Grover shook his head.

"Your mother did. You ended up having to protect me."

"Grover…" Percy's voice fell short and a wave of dizziness hit him.

"Here. Don't strain yourself." he held the straw to Percy's lips.

He recoiled at the taste, because he was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. And not just any cookies—his mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, his whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. His grief didn't go away, but he felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against his cheek, given him a cookie the way she used to when he was small, and told him everything was going to be okay.

"Was it good?" Grover asked.

He nodded.

"What did it taste like?" He sounded so wistful, he felt guilty.

"Sorry," he said. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just... wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," he said. "My mom's. Homemade."

He sighed. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards."

"That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"Is Mr Brunner here?" Percy asked. He still had questions, and he had risked his life to get to wherever they were. He was owed answers, and he wanted them immediately.

"He's outside, waiting for you. Before we go though, there's something I need to warn you."

"What?" Percy asked.

"Um. I don't know how to explain this Percy, but something bad has happened. Something about you. When you came here and we took you to the infirmary, some people showed up. Well, some of the gods showed up. No one else knows this because we've kept it quiet. But two of them showed up. And they were angry. Furious. They wanted to see you, question you about something. A third god showed up afterwards and so did Chiron. They managed to talk things down and Chiron told them to leave. He claimed that you were under his protection and until he said so, no one was to harm you. Nobody knows what they'd said, but people are on edge. Something about you is different. So expect to see some people look at you weirdly."

Percy sighed. Just what he needed. Barely ten minutes in, and he'd managed to attract all the attention. What the hell made him so special that everyone wanted to kill him? He hadn't even done anything wrong.

"Lets go see Chiron."

They must've been on the north shore of Long Island because on their side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Percy simply couldn't process everything he was seeing between here and there. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheatre, a circular arena—except they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and unless he was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

At the end of the porch sat two people and a blond girl standing to the side. He remembered her as the girl he'd seen before falling unconscious.

The man facing him was small but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except he got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even his stepfather.

"That's Mr D," Grover murmured to him. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..."

"Hello Mr Brunner," Percy said as the man in the wheelchair turned around, a smile spreading on his face. His eyes had a mischievous glint they got during his pop quizzes when he made all the multiple-choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offered Percy a chair to the right of Mr D, who looked at him with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh.

"Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

Percy didn't respond but rolled his eyes internally. Having spent time around Gabe, he knew a happy juice addict when he saw one. If Mr D wasn't an alcoholic, then he was a satyr.

"Annabeth?" Mr Brunner called the blond girl. She stepped forward, and Mr Brunner introduced her to him. "This young lady nursed you back to health Percy. Annabeth, my dear, we'll be placing Percy in the Big House for now. Could you ensure his bunk is ready?"

"Sure, Chiron. Not cabin eleven?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Chiron shook his head.

"After what happened, it might be best for the campers to calm down. Percy will be fine with us for now," he said, pointedly looking at Mr D. He rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I heard Barnacle Beard. The child is innocent of crimes, hasn't done anything, destroy everything if a hair is harmed, blah blah blah. I thought father was the dramatic one," he muttered the last part under his breath.

Percy was more focused on the blond girl. She was probably his age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what he thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling grey, like storm clouds, pretty but intimidating, too, as if she were analysing the best way to take him down in a fight. He knew that look. His own golden eyes had the exact same look whenever he confronted bullies.

She glanced at the minotaur horn in his hands, then back at him. He imagined she was going to say, You killed a minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something like that.

Instead, she said, "You drool when you sleep."

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So, Chiron. Huh?" Percy asked, turning back to his teacher. "The Chiron from the myths. Teacher of heroes. Trainer of Hercules, Achilles, Asclepius and many others. This is where you work?"

"So you do remember the myths. Good. They'll serve you well here," Chiron said. "I'm glad to see you alive Percy. It's been a long time since I've made a house call for a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?"

"Yes Percy. As I'm sure Grover and your mother explained to you, my year at Yancy Academy was solely to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools to keep a lookout. Once Grover found you, he alerted me instantly. He sensed something different, special about you. I decided to come upstate and take matters in my own hands. I convinced the other Latin teacher… to take a leave of absense. And past everything you made it back here alive. You passed the first test. It seems my time at Yancy was well served."

"You came there to protect me right? That's what Grover told me," Percy said, finally happy he was getting straight answers. "My mother told me that you would be the one to explain everything to me. She told me there are multiple gods that want to kill me."

Mr D interrupted to ask whether they were playing and explained the rules. Chiron continued from there.

"Percy," he said gently. "What did your mother tell you?"

He had the same sympathetic look in his eyes but also a hint of pride in them. No matter how badly he was failing his exam, he'd be the star pupil of the class. He'd always have the right answers and succeed.

"She told me that she had been warned to send me here, but she wanted to keep me close to her. And that there had been a complication when I was born. That something about me had changed."

"Typical," Mr D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

He explained the rules of bidding, and they continued the game.

"There's too much to explain to the boy. The orientation film won't be enough."

"Orientation film?" Percy asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "As your mother and Grover explained to you, there are gods from the era of Greece- the Greek gods as we refer to them- who are still very much alive. Your friend, Grover, is a satyr. And of course, as you may know, you just killed the Minotaur. No small feat either, lad. Especially for someone with no proper training."

Percy nodded. He had figured out quite a lot of this in the past few days.

"So the Olympian gods. They exist here in America. Zeus, Poseidon, Hera."

Above him, a distant thunder boomed on the cloudless day.

"Young man," said Mr D. "I'd be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you. Considering half of them want you dead and would've killed you the night you came here."

"For what reason exactly?" Percy asked, narrowing his eyes at the director. "I've spent the last few days in a school, completely unaware any of you existed when all of a sudden there's a bunch of gods want me dead. For what crime exactly might I ask? And what evidence?"

"Evidence?" Mr D scoffed. "Perseus Jackson" – he flinched at the sound of his real name, which he had never told anyone. "your existence is evidence enough. Do you think the gods would be hunting you across the state for no simple reason. Do you not think they have enough occupy them? They have far better things to do. The gods have enough problems on their hands to be dealing with a simple mortal for no reason. A crime has been committed and your name is the first name that is written all over it."

"Mr D," Chiron warned.

"Oh come on Chiron," he replied, rolling his eyes. "You can't hide the truth from the kid forever. Barnacle beard won't be able to defend the kid forever. He wants to clear his name, he's going to have to do it himself."

More thunder.

"Oh shut it," he yelled at the sky. "You know I'm right."

Percy scooted further away from him. Something about him didn't sit right with Percy. At the back of his mind, something told him despite the childish attitude, he was far, far older than Percy realised. He got the same vibe from Chiron.

"Regardless of whatever the gods say, they know not to harm him for the moment. Percy has some time."

"What truth?" Percy asked.

"Perseus, the gods are unsure of who your father is. But one thing they're sure of is, whoever your father is, it spells trouble for all of them. And recently, there were…. problems on Olympus," Chiron said after a pause. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with right now. But until we know more, you must stay with us. It's for your own safety child."

Percy shook his head. "My mother would never be involved with someone who is bad."

"Oh yeah, the mother is perfect, is she?" Mr D grumbled. "Mortals, honestly. 'Oh, I've known this person for ages, they aren't capable of doing something horrible.'"

"Don't you dare insult my mother," Percy spat. He had just lost her, he wasn't about to listen to some spoilt sad man insult her memory in front of me. Mr D turned towards him, his eyes flaring in anger. Percy returned it with equal anger. He had just been hunted by multiple monsters and perhaps a god. Or multiple gods. He wasn't exactly thinking rationally, but Mr D was infuriating him. Chiron gave him a look of warning.

Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing too," Mr D said, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job and dealing with an insolent child."

He waved his hand, and a goblet appeared on the table. It filled itself with red wine. Percy's eyes widened, but Chiron hardly looked up.

"Mr D. Your restrictions."

The director looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky again and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

More thunder.

Mr D waved his hands again, and the glass changed to Diet Coke.

Chiron winked at Percy. "Mr D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," he repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

"Yes," Mr D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair."

Mr D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

"Your father is?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Di immortales Chiron, I thought you taught the boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

Zeus, king of the gods. Had the skin of a tiger. Grover cringed as if Mr D was his master. Liked to drink alcohol. Had the letter D as the first letter in his name.

"You're Dionysus," he said. "The god of wine and madness."

Mr D rolled his eyes. "A real scholar you are. What do they say these days, Grover. Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr D"

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

Percy didn't respond. Whenever he looked at either Mr D or Chiron, something told him they were far more different. He had no problem believing Mr D was a god. There was an aura around him, telling him both of them were far older than their physical appearance.

"I believe I win." Mr D said.

"Not quite, Mr D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

Percy thought Mr D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

"Big house, Perseus Jackson. And mind your manners. Not everyone is as forgiving of rudeness as I am." And with that, Dionysus walked off, Grover trailing behind him.

"Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been… ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"So how is Olympus here in America?"

"The gods move with the heart of the West. The abstract concept of Western civilization. It's a living force, a collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are a part of it, even go as far to say the source of it. It started from Greece, then Rome and so on. As you remember from the latin lessons, they changed their names as well. Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on. But they were the same forces, the same gods. It moved to Germany, Franch, Spain, England and now currently in America. No matter where you go, you'll see the ancient architecture in all places. People do not forget the gods, the gods make sure of it."

Percy nodded, taking it all in. "The symbol of the United States is the golden eagle, Zeus' animal. The statues in California were dedicated in his name."

Chiron nodded.

"Wait, if you're Chiron from the myths, shouldn't you be a centaur?"

Chiron smiled. He rose from his wheelchair. His blanket fell away, and his waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. From the bottom emerged the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fair. A white hoof shot out, then another, then the hindquarters. The wheelchair resembled a box with a metal shell and a couple of fake human legs attached to it.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there for so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."


Author's Note will be in the next chapter