Chapter Text
“Jack, I swear to the stars-”
Relaaaaaax, Boss, we’ll get there when we get there!
Percy huffed. “I don’t want to fly in this fucking weather!”
The pegasus beneath him nickered. If you’ve never experienced the joy of flying in a blizzard, then when will you? Besides, you’re wearing a jacket this time, we can afford to enjoy ourselves! I promise we won’t crash, how bout dat?
“How bout I braid your mane with rocks,” he said cheerfully, “and paint your hooves green? Land.”
Blackjack shuddered. Fine, fine. You’re mean, Boss!
“I’m cold. It’s early January.”
Hey, you’re the one who wanted to leave today!
“Yes, because Kat said she only had one more day before she went back to school!”
And now we get to enjoy the nice hospitality of, he dropped to the ground and huddled under an awning of a storefront while people rushed by, doing their last minute errands as white started to blanket the sidewalks, kicked around by many feet, what is this, Richmond?
“Joy,” Percy sighed, pulling Thalia’s jacket tighter and stuffing his hands in the pockets as soon as he slid off the pegasus, “come on, the blizzards not as bad on the ground, but we need some form of shelter and the Mist won’t hold you forever.”
Blackjack eyed an awed little girl, who looked about ready to break the grip her mom had on her hand and bolt for him, and huffed.
You said it, Boss.
“Okay,” Kat brandished it, “new friendship bracelets, acquired!”
Percy blinked. “Wait, plural? I thought you were just making one for me.”
Katrina snorted and waved her hand at her desk, where two other new bracelets lay. Like his new one, they had a slightly more complicated and interlaced braid pattern that almost reminded him of chainmail. “Absolutely not,” she huffed, “I’m using my new stuff. I wove every individual component and everything. These things are cut proof, I guarantee. Still weak to things like blunt force trauma, so this won't stop you from breaking your wrist or anything, but ain’t no way it’s getting cut off of you again.”
Percy hummed and turned his green, grey, and mostly blue band around. “Is that why there’s also no buckle on these ones?”
She hummed in agreement. “Mmm, yeah, they’re stretchy enough that you should just be able to slip it over your wrist, but it’ll still stay secure and not move around. Now you get to play delivery, since I know you’re most likely to see the other two first.”
Percy gave a wry grin. “I mean, yeah. I can make a stop. I see Grover in… March, I think. Maybe. I can keep his safe until then, though, if I don’t see him.”
Kat grinned and ruffled his hair, ignoring how he tried halfheartedly to bat her away. “Good! Hey, maybe when you all get back to camp you can have Andrea enchant them, or something. Give y’all a tracker so no one ever goes missing again.”
He hummed. “Probably a good idea, all things considered. Maybe I’ll swing by camp again, make sure it hasn’t burned down.”
She stared. “You’ve been gone less than a week?”
He shrugged. “So’s Annabeth, though. Also, I never established who I’m calling every two weeks, so I don’t know if someone will be near the phone when I try. Should probably establish that. And I need to keep up with my field medic training.”
She chuckled quietly. “Sure. Okay, well, travel safe, I guess. Survive.”
He gave a lopsided grin. “Always.”
“Annabeth, I’m going in the ocean!”
“If you freeze to death, I’m not the one who’s going to explain it to your mother.”
“I’ll be fiiiiiiiine!”
“I look forward to looting your corpse.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you your new everything proof friendship bracelet. Friends are supposed to support you, and I’m not feeling very supported right now.”
“I support a lack of hypothermia.”
“Tell you what, I’ll bring you back a cool shell.”
“Perseus Achilles Jackson, 1993 to 2008, got jealous of popsicles. So tragic.”
“You’re right, I should bring Bobby and Matthew shells, you clearly don’t need any.”
“I get Thalia’s jacket when you die. In fact, you should just leave it here.”
“No, a captain goes down with his ship. The jacket is the captain in this metaphor, and I will be buried in this jacket.”
“Big words for someone who said his winter gear was shoes.”
“Sorry I can’t hear you, I’m leaving! For the ocean!”
“Good luck freezing to death! Bye!”
Percy watched the teenage magician with a cocked head, following her fingers. Normally, this was sleight of hand, and she definitely had some of that. Flicking cards and coins and handkerchiefs around and distracting people from the twist of her fingers, the gleam of green and purple that matched the streaks in her hair. Streaks that moved and rippled in the light.
The act ended and passersby clapped and tipped the girl who didn’t look any older than he did. She was performing outside the local library, a sagging bag with thick books beside her, just peeking through the open top, and he walked up with an easy smile.
“That was pretty cool,” he said honestly, “so you specialize in illusions?”
Her smile stretched wider. “Thank you. Yes, it’s easy to trick the mind into thinking what you want it to. A misdirect here, and eyecatching flash there… I’m sure anyone else could do this with some practice, though.”
He hummed. “Oh come on, we both know that’s not true. You have… a gift.”
Her smile faltered a little and her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “That’s kind of you to say. I should probably-”
“I see you read a lot,” he interrupted, trying to be casual, “ever read anything on Greek legends? I find them… pretty helpful. You know, for the lessons they teach.”
She worked her jaw for a moment before setting her stance defensively, folding her arms and tapping her fingers in a nervous cadence. “Is this another wacko recruitment pitch? Because I’ll tell you what I told the last guy. I’m not interested, and you’re crazy.”
Percy blinked. “Wait, recruitment pitch? Shit, was it for the titans? Fuck, I didn’t realize they had gotten this far.”
She narrowed her eyes. “It was. Not that they’re real.”
He sighed. “They’re as real as your magic. Wait, so you turned them down, right?”
She picked up her bag. “Yes. Goodbye. I hope I never see you again.”
“Wait,” Percy scrambled after her, “wait, sorry, this is probably creepy, sorry, but it’s not super safe out here on your own, and if they found you once, they’ll find you again, and they might not take no for an answer-”
She twirled her fingers and purple and green rippled over her form. He could feel the Mist twist around her and he froze, now on the verge of a panic.
“Maybe you should practice what you preach,” she called from three directions at once, “and take this no.”
He took a tentative sniff, but the Mist was heavy and precise.
“My name is Percy Jackson,” he blurted, “I’m a son of the sea god, I’m fourteen years old, and I’m trying everything I can to keep demigods safe. Even if you don’t want to go to camp, fine, cool, but I’d feel way more comfortable if you took a weapon, so that if monsters do come, you can defeat them.”
“I can slip past monsters,” she hissed, “my illusions are infallible!”
He opened his mouth before stopping. He squinted. “Wait. Does that mean… you can’t see through them?”
There was silence for a moment. “What. No. It-. Okay. Infallible means… it means it doesn’t fail. It can’t.”
He winced. “Oh boy, can't? Now that’s a fun word. You’re just asking to be proved wrong with that one.”
“What, big fan of Murphy?”
“Tempting fate, yeah. Because, uh,” he winced again, “I’ve definitely had it bite me in the ass.”
“Well, until you can find me, I think I’ll be okay.”
He cocked his head and bit his lip, thinking. He couldn’t smell her. As a child of Hecate (or Trivia, which was apparently another name she went by?), she had far better control of the Mist than he did, so he wouldn’t be able to strip it. He might be able to make it flicker briefly, but it was doubtful. Convincing the Mist to do what he wanted was a struggle of effort on a good day. It was almost like trying to control living blood, slipping through his fingers unless he strained. He always knew it was there, but-
Waaaaaaait.
He changed to trying to feel nearby water, and while the Mist wasn’t really actually water vapor, it seemed like it was trying really hard to convince him no one was there. But there-!
He turned around and grabbed her shoulder. She rippled into sight with a shocked look on her face. He grinned.
“Hi,” he smirked, “what was that about can’t?”
She gave a wry sigh and raised an eyebrow. “You’re kind of a creepy asshole, you know that, right?”
“I’ve been told… Percy Jackson.”
“You said,” she grimaced, “Joslynn MacDonald. How’d…?”
He shrugged. “Human bodies are like 70% water. Water demigod.”
“Terrifying. Fine, give me your pitch.”
He brightened. “I’m so glad you asked! Okay so the gods and titans both suck, but demigods usually-”
“FIGHT ME, YOU FUCKERS!”
Percy paused and exchanged a glance with Blackjack.
Boss, he warned, could be something. Could also be crazies, though, just wanna put that out there.
“I’ve never heard something that reminds me more of Clarisse,” Percy said solemnly, already pivoting and starting a light jog that slowly picked up speed, “and she’s almost at her self-imposed deadline.”
I’ll be aerial, the pegasus sighed before taking off, don’t die, Boss!
Percy didn’t bother to answer, Riptide’s pen in his hand and watch poised so that he could hit the button on his leg. He turned the corner to see a park open up before him, two girls back to back as three juvenile griffins circled. They were each holding skateboards and apparently using them to fend off the hungry monsters. That would only last for a little while longer.
“Jack,” he called, making both of their heads snap up, “bet you’re not complaining about the horseshoes now!”
He bypassed the shield to unsheath the dagger strapped to his waist (Annabeth had bullied him into carrying other easy to reach weapons than just Riptide and of course a knife was her pick) and hurled it at the biggest griffin. It only hit a back leg, but it squawked in outrage and turned around, golden dust beginning to spill out.
A black shape dived and stomped a second griffin to dust and Percy swung Riptide, forming into a deadly bronze arch to take out the other uninjured one. The last griffin started to back up, limping.
I am absolutely complaining about the horseshoes, Blackjack grumbled, just because they’re my ass-kicking shoes doesn’t make them any more comfortable, Boss. Don’t you usually go without shoes if you can help it?
“Yeah,” he darted forward before the last griffin could take off and cut it down mercilessly, thankful he’d had backup and the element of surprise for what otherwise might have been a deadly fight, “but what would we do without you?”
Die, probably.
“In a ditch,” he agreed cheerfully as he scooped up the knife and wiped it off on his jeans, “barely out of New York. Hey, you two alright? Did they ever scratch you? I’m like 95% certain their claws are basically poison because of germs and infection.”
“You didn’t save any for me,” one girl, with curly strawberry blonde hair and a furious expression, straightened and glared, “I totally had that!”
The other girl dropped her skateboard and immediately held her arm out. “One got me. Caroline, shut up.”
“Canna,” she hissed, “it was just some shitty lion birds!”
“Those are called griffins,” Canna deadpanned, “you know, the mythological creatures that seemed more than capable of ripping into people?”
Percy grabbed his water bottle and uncapped it, holding Canna’s arm and pouring it on. Instead of flowing down her arm, it pooled in her injury and he swirled it around, washing the wound. He let it fall to the ground after and switched to grab his first aid kid to get out the butterfly bandages. It was too deep for him to just scab it over, but not deep enough for stitches, and he had a very miniscule amount of nectar, mostly in a salve. He made a noise and switched to grabbing the salve, smearing it over the wound. Canna made a surprised sound, and then he put on the butterfly bandages.
“Okay,” he said cheerfully, “this’ll heal much faster than usual for you. Might be a day or two, but this shouldn’t leave more than a small scar, since it’s not jagged at all. You got lucky, it could have been much deeper. I guess it got you with the longest claw only?”
She nodded, staring.
“And who’re you,” Caroline demanded, folding her arms, “how do we know you’re not a creep? Stranger danger, and all that.”
“You don’t,” he shrugged, “but if you have to choose between a sketchy person and a monster, you should, in general, pick the person. Probably. At the very least, killing a person is forever. Monsters come back eventually. Anyway, y’all want the crash course now or do you just want directions to summer camp for later?”
“Why do griffins exist for real,” Canna insisted, “and how? What else is real? Where did your sword go? Is that a pegasus?! Oh my gosh.”
Blackjack visibly preened and Percy waved him off. “Yeah, that’s Blackjack, my favorite minion-” Boss, W.T.F.- “-and Greek myths are real. Based on the fact that you can see them, they were targeting you, and,” he took a sniff, “yep, you’re probably part of those myths because of one of your parents. Ginger, paprika… war related, but not our main one. Hmm, his sister, maybe? Then starch and laundry detergent, maybe… something about being clean? Maybe a metaphor. Clean rep? Oh, maybe. Eh, we’ll see how it goes. Anyway.”
Caroline squinted. “You do realize half of that was nonsense, right?”
He shrugged. “Anyway, Greek gods are real, you have one for a parent. Different ones, I’m pretty sure. Other questions?”
“Why should we believe you,” Caroline pointed at him imperiously.
He got serious. “Because if I hadn’t been here, those griffins would have killed and eaten you. And they’ll be the first of many. You have a couple options, but none are great right now. The fact that there’s two of you will help and hurt. Help, because you’ll have backup, someone else who knows, someone who can help defend you. You’re stronger together. Unfortunately, your signal is stronger together too, and more monsters will be able to find you as long as you’re together. It might be worth it, but that’s up to you.”
Canna grabbed her friend. “I’m not leaving.”
“Me neither,” Caroline blustered, grabbed back, and glared at him menacingly for even daring to suggest it.
He raised his hands in surrender and then went for his duffle. “Got it, cool. Now I need to fit you with weapons, though. Swords, preferably. Here, let’s try this one…”
The phone picked up. “Howdy.”
“Hey Lee,” he grinned, “how’s it hanging?”
The older boy chuckled sarcastically. “Golly gee we’re sure hangin in there.” His tone shifted to a more sincere one. “Quiet weeks?”
“Yeah,” he hummed, “no news is good news.”
“I don’t know about that, because speaking of news,” Lee said in amusement, “Clarisse checked in and told us to tell you. She also said to tell you that she’s ‘going back in, she thinks she has a real lead, will try and get out of there by the end of April, if not, send in the cavalry.’ What’s up with that?”
“Weird mission Chiron gave her,” he said apologetically, “she wanted me to keep an eye on it since I have the most outreach right now. If she’s being vague, I’ll keep to it. I don’t want her to beat my ass when I have to swoop in. Bad enough that’s a possibility.”
“Fair enough. Other camp news, let’s see… oh, your cabin keeps running ship drills. I think half of it is just them acting like pirates, though. They teamed up with Charlie and Ariana this last capture the flag and set up this crazy fortress of sorts on the creek. The naiads are fighting to keep it up because it’s all wooden and vines. I’m half convinced they’re getting Miranda and Katie to help them turn it into living wood. We live in terror.”
He snickered. “And did they win?”
“No comment.”
“Everything else good at camp, though? No crazy stuff going on?”
He hummed. “Not yet. There’s time. Oh, Charlie’s your next caller, by the way. He said he’s working on a thing and wants to coordinate with you in two weeks when he has a more solid plan, so he’s your receiver next time.”
“Got it,” he nodded, “good to know someone’s coming to the phone, even if you all pass me around like a hot potato.”
“Hey, if all else fails, someone in your cabin will take them, like Vicky. Besides, hot potatoes are delicious.”
“You heard it here first, folks, local adult says he’ll eat a child.”
“Hey! I’m not an adult for another two months, you take that back! And you’re hardly a child.”
Percy sighed. “Are any of us?”
“…Well, that got too sad too fast. Alright, time for a pop quiz-”
He groaned. “Lee, you’ve quizzed me like seventeen times and I haven’t even been gone for that many weeks-!”
“And I quiz you on different stuff every time! Okay, say someone has a collapsed lung and you don’t have nectar or ambrosia on hand, just basic first aid supplies-”
“Hey,” he called, “you good?”
The kid swore loudly, but didn’t get up, rubbing his eyes.
Percy snorted and killed the remaining empousa, not one he recognized. “Sorry, my warning was late.”
He walked over and the kid squinted up at him. He smelled like harsh metal and a tinge of blood and his features reminded him of Josefa, kind of.
He extended a hand. “Percy.”
The boy took it and sighed. “Ethan. Thanks. What was that?”
“Like, the flashbang, or…?”
“The girl. Or, well, whatever she was.”
Percy hummed, waving his head back and forth. “The name won’t tell you much, but an empousa. Sort of like a magical blood sucker with weird legs.” He snickered, imagining Kelli’s reaction if he ever said that in her presence. “Anyway, yeah. Monster. Sorry, they were only really there because of me.”
Ethan snorted derisively. “What gave it away? The screaming of your name?”
Percy shrugged. “I have a bit of a reputation, probably among the empousai more than anything else. Was that your first monster?”
Ethan grimaced. “Yes and no. I’ve always… seen things.”
“But first one you’re fought,” Percy nodded, “do you know why they show up?”
Ethan eyed him speculatively, then nodded. “My mom talked to me about it.”
Percy pursed his lips. “Your mom got a name?”
“They both do. Joy Nakamura and Nemesis.”
Percy whistled and mentally filed the smells away. He didn’t smell like Cai had in the slightest, but if he’d literally spoken to her, he’d know.
“Nice to meet you, Ethan Nakamura, son of Joy and Revenge,” he held out a hand, “I’m Percy, son of Sally and Sea.”
Ethan snickered. “That’s so cheesy. Did you practice that?”
Percy felt his face heat up. “No, it was sort of a heat-of-the-moment thing. Uh, wow, yeah, okay, maybe it was cringey. I think half of that was your mom’s fault though. Joy and Revenge. Kind of funny.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, dude. At least I’m not Alliteration Station. You could have said ocean, or something. Sea sounds like you’re trying too hard.”
“He’s the god of the sea,” Percy threw his hands up, “I could say something like… sibling to currents and tides and storms, if that’s any better!”
“It’s not.”
“Yeah I know,” he sighed, “I heard it as soon as I said it. Okay, how much do you know?”
The ease was gone, back to caution, and Ethan shrugged a single shoulder. “Enough. Gods are real, so are monsters and titans.”
Percy paused. “Has your mother declared allegiance yet?”
Ethan squinted. “Who’s asking?”
“Demigods.”
“Which ones?”
“No,” Percy sighed, “literally demigods. I hate everyone else.”
“But you hate someone more,” Ethan pointed out, “that’s how it works.”
“Then let me appeal to your mother’s domains,” Percy swept out a hand, “and say I’m on the side of balance. I want demigods like us to live past eighteen, past forty. I’m not pleased with either side, for different reasons, but I fight for the side that will give me the most leverage and save the most lives.”
Ethan smiled mirthlessly. “Which is?”
Percy pursed his lips. “Gods.”
Ethan hummed. “We’ll see. I haven’t actually decided yet.”
He cocked his head, ignoring the swell of relief. “But you know of both?”
“My mother appreciates informed decisions.”
Percy mustered a sigh. “Okay. Do you have a weapon?”
Ethan flushed. “I… yeah, but I left it at home.”
Percy snorted. “Helpful.”
“Shut up.”
“Do you know how to get to camp?”
He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “And where the nearest titan recruiter is, yes.”
Percy grimaced. “Right. Just… make the decision you can live with.”
Ethan smirked. “Thanks for the save, Percy, son of Sally. I’ll be sure to weigh my options carefully.”
He sighed. “Alright, see ya. Don’t die. Maybe carry your sword with you always. You’re what, my age? Fourteen?”
“Fifteen.”
“Yeah, good luck. Monsters get worse as you get older. You have a place at camp, when you get there.”
Ethan laughed bitterly as he started to walk away.
“Do I, Percy? Do I?”
Percy stood amongst the golden dust, blown by a cold wind, and tried not to shudder.
“You will,” he muttered to the empty air.
The Colorado River was about half the size of the Mississippi, generally considered to be the stretch originating in Colorado, taking detours through Utah and Arizona, skirting the edges of Nevada and California, and ending in Mexico in that giant bay in between Mexico proper and that funky peninsula it had. Obviously, there were a million offshoots, including some making their way across Texas and maybe to the gulf, but in general, that’s what was considered the Colorado River.
The majority of it was in a desert, and it was driving Percy insane.
“I need chapstick,” he complained, “I’ve never needed chapstick in my life!”
Thalia snorted. “Get good, Fish Lips, the desert comes for us all.”
“I’ve never seen a Hunter apply chapstick,” Grover remarked idly, crunching on an aluminum can he’d pulled up.
“That’s because we’re discreet,” Jenna called from her group’s section, “but I can assure you, our pockets contain a multitude of things.”
Phoebe leaned back and started ticking off her fingers. “Chapstick, nail clippers, pliers, small snacks, mints, water purifying tablets, matches, sunscreen, deodorant, benadryl-”
“Wait wait wait,” Percy held up his hands, “run those last two by me again?”
“No one likes to smell sweat,” Thalia snorted, “and it’d be more accurate to call it an odor neutralizer than a deodorant, but the concept is basically the same. We don’t really feel winded when we do things, but most living humanoids sweat, so for those of us who do, deodorant. Benadryl is an allergy medication. A few of us have allergies.”
“I’m sorry,” Percy said incredulously, “do your magic Hunter powers not protect you from allergies? Literal nature fighting your bodies?”
“That would be ridiculous,” Thalia said with a straight face.
“You’ve thought it too,” he accused, “what, did you try peanut butter for the first time and have to get divine intervention?”
“I’m not allergic to peanuts,” she scrunched her nose in offense, “I’m not allergic to anything!”
“Blackberries,” Jenna called.
“That’s unrelated!”
“So,” Grover decided to save the day, “Percy, how’ve the travels been?”
“For some reason,” he hummed, “I’ve already seen like, four demigods, which never happens in this short a period of time. It’s been two months, usually it took me a whole year before to get this many. Maybe eight months. Still.”
Thalia made a noise of interest. “Any girls we should check on?”
“Uh, well, three of them were girls, and I can send you their way, but no guarantees. We have two in North Carolina, near Raleigh, and one in… shoot, where was she… oh, right, a few hours out of Indianapolis. Up for it?”
She hummed, considering. “Yeah. You’ll need to get us a bit closer, but that’ll work. We can check the map when we break for today.”
He nodded. “And you, Grover? I know you’re here and not crowing from the rooftops or whatever, but any progress on Pan?”
Grover sighed. “Yes and no. I’m getting vibes, but not really anything concrete, and it doesn’t get any clearer no matter where I go. The main issue is, satyrs have been looking for him literally since he’s been missing, which has been thousands of years! I know this means that if he was in an easy to find space, he would have been found already. So I have to think outside of the box and wonder, where is somewhere a god of the wild would go, that satyrs wouldn’t think to look?”
“What if he’s been moving, though,” Phoebe pointed out, “that’s the classic hide and seek trick my father did. Me and my little sister would play with him, and he’d wait for us to check a spot or a room and then when we weren’t looking, move to there. Since we’d already checked it, we didn’t think he could be there. Also we didn’t know how to look up because we can’t reach that high, but whatever.”
Percy stared.
She glanced up and raised an eyebrow with a snort. “What?”
“How old were you,” he said slowly in confusion.
She hummed and thought. “We were… maybe five and four?”
“Why was a grown ass man going that hard against toddlers?”
She burst into real genuine laughter. “Right?! Even at that age we knew that adults were supposed to let us win, or at least have a shot, but nope, not for him. I think that’s why my godly father liked him. Competitive to the last. Speaking of my godly father, I hear my latest half-sister is on a special hidden quest?”
Percy gaped. “Wha- War?! Your dad is War?! Wait, and why does everyone and their brother know what Clarisse is doing?”
“Nature spirits are gossips,” Thalia shrugged, “she’s been popping up all over the country every so often, and she’s pretty famous since she’s the one who brought the Golden Fleece back and let her father off of Olympus again.”
“I resent that,” Grover grumbled with a reluctant smile, “not all nature spirits…”
“Remind me again how we came to clean this river,” Percy said in faux thoughtfulness, and Grover threw a stick at him.
“Anyway,” Jenna continued with a snort, waving at a Hunter further up the river to acknowledge the signal, “it’s something to do with the Maze, right?”
He sighed. “Yeah. Something about it, I’m not sure. I’ve been in a few times and can get places pretty quick with Blackjack, so she asked me to keep an eye out. Maybe I should ask more nature spirits about stuff, if they’re such a useful information network. Grover, do you happen to know if there’s any demigods in the area?”
“I hate you,” the satyr declared with a decisive nod, “and no.”
“You’ll keep an eye out, though, right?”
“Yeah, duh, can’t deny you the chance to adopt more kids.”
Percy sputtered. “I don’t do that!”
The other four snorted simultaneously.
He sniffed and turned his nose up at them. “Live in your delusions, then.”
Thalia made a noise of interest. “I didn’t know you knew that word!”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m really proud of you, little cousin, you’re learning! Annie must be pleased as punch. That's a simile, by the way. Figurative language.”
He ground his teeth. “I’m aware.”
“They really start teaching it in middle school, I’m pretty sure.”
He turned on her incredulously. “And how would you know?”
“I didn’t,” she shrugged, “but we also accept mortal hunters, you know. Cathy is our resident high school freshman, so she’s the furthest in terms of mortal schooling out of all the Hunters. Granted, she’s about… what is it, ten years out of date?”
“Eleven,” Jenna offered.
“Eleven,” Thalia nodded, “but she’s still our furthest. Not that we… care, really. I mean, come on, we’re Hunters.”
“I want you to know that I’m filled with unspeakable jealousy,” Grover sighed, “do you know how many times I had to repeat years of school, over and over?”
“At least twice,” Thalia shrugged.
“At least it was easy the second time,” the goat boy sighed in agreement.
Percy hummed idly and tried to ignore the conversation about school, knowing that inevitably it would end up with-
“So Percy,” Grover said pointedly with a smug grin, “when are you going back to school?”
“Never,” he muttered with a scowl, “stop distracting me, I’m trying something with my powers.”
“You’re not getting out of this-”
He was cut off by sputtering, wiping the icy cold water off his face. Percy stared at him blankly, then looked between the large pile of all the trash in a few hundred feet he’d dragged out of the water, then at the satyr a few feet away, soaking wet.
“Man,” he shook his head, drying off his friend, “I usually have much better control than that, and I totally meant to fling the water back into the river! Weird!”
Grover pulled out his sickle calmly.
“I made that and gave it to you,” Percy pointed, taking a step back, “that means you can’t hurt me with it. Plus, you’re dry now!”
“You should have frozen it on me,” Grover said cheerfully before starting to chase him.
Percy’s expression broke into the grin he’d been suppressing and he laughed, bright and free in the dry desert air.
“A man showed up.”
Percy frowned and ran the knife down the arrow shaft another time. There was still a little button of extra wood and he was pretty sure it might have been crooked. Maybe Thalia had been right to make fun of him and his weapon making skills out here without a real forge or anything. “What do you mean, like an adult human man?”
Victoire huffed over the line. “Exactly like an adult human man. He’s got greyer hair than you, looks like he might be in his fifties.”
Percy squinted and paused. “At camp? Is this another Tantalus situation?”
She hummed, skeptical. “Not that we can tell. He’s the new swords instructor. I don’t think he’s as good as you.”
“So if he’s not a spirit,” Percy held the shaft up and looked down its length, “did Chiron just like, pick up a mortal?”
“He says he’s a demigod.”
Percy stilled. “That’s impossible.”
Victoire hummed in grim agreement. “He’s suspicious, is what he is. Says his name is Quintus. Has a hellhound named Mrs. O’Leary. Was mildly shocked when we barely blinked at her. I think the top bet right now is that he’s actually you from the future.”
“While I appreciate your confidence in both my ability to live that long and my apparent ability to time travel, which… I don’t want to know how and our current option is a bad one, something tells me he’s not me. I would never change my name to start with a Q, for one.”
She snickered. “Yeah? What would your time travel name be?”
“Ted,” he said without hesitation.
“Oh wow, you’re prepared for an excellent adventure, huh?”
“Of course. I’m not sure if I could pull off the hair though.”
“I believe in you, captain!”
He snorted. “Okay, anyway, thanks for letting me know. I gotta go, I see a cyclops.”
“Stay safe, captain.”
“You as well. Survival over all.”
“Survival over all.”
The rainbow shimmered in front of him and he stopped, Bean becoming alert beside him. Blackjack was taking a short vacation to visit his parents, but he would hear if Percy whistled, they’d found, from a pretty far distance, so Percy wasn’t worried. Plus, the pegasus still wasn’t super fond of the hellhound, who’d showed up a few days ago.
The image resolved and Percy blinked, then leaned forward. “Clarisse?”
She blew out a breath and heaved whatever she was supporting or carrying. “No one else has my ugly mug, do they? Listen, I need a pickup. For two.”
She leaned over slightly and he sucked in a breath. “La Rue, that’s-”
“I know,” she snarled, “a victim of the Maze.”
He swallowed, but tore his eyes from the listless looking boy. He was mouthing things and mumbling, but Percy couldn’t pick up any actual words. “What the hell happened in there?”
She grimaced. “Shit’s fucked, princess. I’m not going back in, fuck Chiron’s worries. The last thing we need is me turning out like…”
They both looked at the teenager under her arm, already sagging again. Percy jolted to realize tears were silently slipping down the boy’s face. It was disconcerting.
“Yeah,” he said absently, “yeah of course. Where are you?”
“Mississippi,” she rattled off an address and a few nearby landmarks, “I don’t want to try moving too much, but like hell I was going back in the Maze for any reason after everything. Listen, Percy-”
Chris jolted and his eyes locked onto Percy. “Percy. Percy! The son of Poseidon, he doesn’t die, he’s terrible, he belongs to the dirt, it heals him, warn, warning! Please, I can’t, this is an illusion, Death, it’s all fake, Mary-”
Clarisse covered his mouth and took a shuddering breath. “Listen. We… the faster you can get us back to camp and Mr. D, the more actual coherent information we can get out of him, okay? So hurry.”
Bean whined and sniffed the air, then nudged his head under Percy’s arm, making him strain a bit to actually make it and not stretch his arm off. Muscles tensed under him and Percy instinctively tightened a grip in smokey fur, and then Bean lunged, dragging him with no warning into the cold shadows and then out into the humid spring of Mississippi. It was much easier to hear Chris’s muttering now, and Clarisse’s quick intake of breath. Percy groaned and rubbed his forehead.
“Okay,” he straightened, “one hellhound express, coming right up.”
“You’re fucking crazy,” Clarisse snorted, but let him help her to the now crouching dog, “I’m in the back. He’ll sandwich so he doesn’t fall off. Should we let camp know we’re on our way?”
“They could do with a surprise or two,” he muttered, “it’s not like Bean can’t just get in whenever he wants. I’ll call Blackjack when we get there so he doesn’t think I’m dead or something.”
“The horse?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s not like he could have carried all three of us, and make it here and to camp in an instant.”
Percy grabbed Chris’s hands and held onto them in front of his waist, then tapped Bean’s sides with his feet. The hellhound gave him a doggy grin and stood up fluidly, making sure they didn’t jostle.
“Go to camp,” Percy said, “go to Knees.”
Bean absolutely perked up at that, the little traitor, and galloped into the nearest shadow. They came out on the deck of the Queen Anne’s Revenge to cries of surprise, but no real alarm, and it quickly turned to excitement.
“Bean,” Nico said joyfully, throwing his hands around a large snout, “and you brought Percy!”
Percy slid them off and tried his damnedest to ignore Chris’s mutters of cruises and princesses.
“Captain,” Victoire called, “you’re back a month and a half early. Who… Chris?!”
Percy exchanged a glance with Clarisse and she set her jaw before jerking her head in the direction of the Big House. She turned back to the summer campers from his cabin. “Alright, losers, show me how much you’ve fucked up my ship. How do you run this thing?”
With his cabin sufficiently distracted by Clarisse and his dog, he slid off the ship and into the water, tugging Chris along with an iron grip around his hands to stop the twitches and struggles that were getting stronger the longer they weren’t on solid land. He propelled them as fast as he could, forgoing regular swimming even if this wasn’t something he usually did. He had the power, he might as well use it.
Chris’s legs gave out as soon as they were under him on land and he screamed. He was older than Percy by two years, and he was bigger. That meant that when his foot collided with Percy’s ribs, it took his breath away, but he still didn’t let go. His mind raced, trying to figure out what to do and how to stop him from shrieking and sobbing, before he froze the water on the back of the boy’s neck, remembering advice for panic attacks. It wasn’t nearly the same thing, but Chris did jump and go silent, eyes wide and shocked. He wasted no time in hauling the other boy onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and setting a steady pace for the Big House. It was awkward and almost unbalanced, but something had seemingly made the newly insane teenager placid, all things considered, and other than a few strange looks or double takes, no one bothered them on the way to the farmhouse.
Percy nudged the door open. “Chiron? Mr. D?”
“Percy?”
The centaur stepped around the corner and stopped.
“Hey,” Percy said, wearily, “Clarisse is back. She brought a guest. Is Mr. D in?”
Chiron hesitated. “He… is not. He is on a mission from his father and should return by the time the summer session starts if all goes well.”
Percy stared. “What? But… we need his madness powers.”
Chiron’s eyes trailed to Chris who was silently shaking. Percy absently flicked the water off of him, leaving the ice on his neck but making him otherwise dry.
“We will not be able to call him back,” Chiron said sadly, “but we can do what we can on our own. Christopher Rodriguez… I thought I might never see him again.”
Percy swallowed. He was trying to disconnect the image of the two very different versions of Chris he had in his head. This one, the raving mad one who could barely recognize anyone, and the one that was tentatively wary but otherwise friendly with him, trying to cajole him into joining his side. “Neither did I.” Except for on the other side of a sword, he didn’t say.
Chiron hesitated again before nodding slowly. “We… should not keep him in the regular infirmary. He might be a danger to the other patients, and cause distress besides. He will be quite comfortable in the basement, I believe.”
“The fuck?”
They both turned to see Clarisse standing there.
Chiron shifted. “Clarisse, welcome-”
“Fuck your welcome,” she bit out, “the “basement” is a fucking wine cellar. You wanna talk about danger to patients? That’s a fucking danger. There isn’t even a bed down there!”
“And we will put one down there and move some of the wine,” Chiron assured, “but we cannot trust that Christopher, who is both currently insane and also from the opposing side, will not harm anyone, on accident or on purpose. As we do not have a prison, that will have to do. It is far enough away from the children in our care and with the ability to be locked that he won’t injure himself or others unduly.”
She ground her teeth. “Don’t the guest rooms lock?”
“Windows,” Percy grunted, “he’s strong, he could smash them, hurt himself, and escape. Basement’s underground.”
Chiron nodded. “Indeed. The largest danger for him would be the stairs, if he managed to climb them and then fell down again, but I believe we can restrict him to the far corner.”
Percy thought about it for a bit more before nodding slowly. “The issue is he’s the burglar aspect. He’s good at getting in and out of places. That’s… probably why he was the one in the Maze.”
Clarisse clicked her tongue. “So we put one of the magic locks on it. Big deal. That still doesn’t mean we need to put him in the basement.”
Percy eyed her. “And I’ve never heard of these supposed magic locks… why?”
She shrugged. “How the fuck would I know? Maybe it was before your time. Look, speaking of magic, can’t we have your little magic girl I know you have in your cabin enchant the windows to not break or something? Boom, problem solved, he’s not trapped underground after being in the Maze for who knows how long.”
“Good point,” he pointed at her and looked at Chiron, “she makes a really good point. I can totally ask Andrea if that’s doable.”
Chiron sighed, looking weary. “If it is possible, then I would like nothing more. But the safety of my campers is my priority, so if it cannot be done, you must accept the basement as an alternative solution, both of you.”
Clarisse looked mutinous, but nodded reluctantly. “I’ll get him comfortable and keep him calm. Princess, you talk to her. We have about two hours before dinner, and the sooner we know if this can be done, the better, in my opinion. Get going.”
He gave her a salute, cast one last glance at the catatonic Chris, and left.
The moment Percy stepped out of the Big House, he saw Bean loping for the fighting arena. A quick glance at the lake showed that the boat was docked, with his cabin trickling off, but no one was following him in a panic or otherwise, more meandering in the direction of the cabin. He hesitated for a moment before choosing to follow Bean; sure, it’d been actual years since he seemed interested in demigods as a potential snack, but it only took once. Clarisse would understand the reason for the delay. He took off at a light jog, listening for any screaming, and soon found himself staring at not one, but two hellhounds.
One was almost twice as large as the other, Bean quickly dwarfed by the larger one. They were gleefully playing tug of war with a tattered straw dummy and Percy just… blinked.
“Ah, don’t mind her. I’m still not sure where the other one came from, but Mrs. O’Leary is quite harmless, I assure you.”
Percy’s eyes shot to the man who had spoken. Taller, greying, with worn lines around his eyes. Something about him was stiff, and he had a weird birthmark on his neck. A careful sniff revealed the faint scent of old paper. Usually he would call it old books, but it lacked the extra scent of… glue, or whatever. It was just the paper, with some charcoal and ink. But weirdly, on top of that was the smell of metal. The issue was, the entire scent profile was all muted. Something told Percy that no matter how close he got, he wouldn’t get more than that.
“He’s mine,” Percy said blandly, “you’re Quintus?”
The man blinked and smiled slightly. “I see word gets around. You must be… Percy, yes?”
He hummed and took a few steps closer. Bean was fine for now. “I hear you claim to be a demigod.”
Quintus raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize that was up for debate. I am a demigod.”
Percy grimaced. “At your age? How’d you do it?”
Quintus seemed to sag a bit. “Ah. Now I understand. Luck, mostly. Some skill. A lot of hiding. Mostly hiding, if I’m being completely honest. My residence is well defended from the monsters that would try to hunt me down, if they would dare.”
He inclined his head. “Is that something you teach as well? I hear you took over swords during the year. We have enough demigods at about college age that I’m sure would appreciate some tips.”
The man smiled humorlessly. “I’m afraid most of my defenses would be impossible for teenagers, no matter how skilled. I’ve honed them over decades, at least, and I don’t think they can be replicated. I hope they cannot.”
“Try us,” Percy bit out, “because I’m not letting more people go off to die if you could have prevented it.”
“The risk isn’t worth it,” he said firmly.
“You seem to think we’re children.”
Quintus looked at him with sad, endless grey eyes. He knew that shade. “Because you are.”
Percy scoffed. “We lost that privilege ages ago. Pull the other one.”
The man sighed, suddenly looking like he was a thousand years old and feeling every year. Something in Percy settled at that, for some reason. He knew that for a demigod to actually make it to forty, fifty, or older, they had to have seen… a lot. Sure, Percy had seen more in a year than most demigods would see before they hit sixteen, disregarding all of the crazy shit that had happened throughout his entire life and quests, but even a typical demigod, a child of Wisdom or not, would see an excessive amount by the time they truly hit adulthood. To have lived this long, Quintus had seen… so much. Finally showing that helped soothe some of the disconnect Percy was feeling. Not all of it, but some.
“Tell you what,” Quintus said, not quite gentle, but definitely calmer, “why don’t you sit in on a lesson? Some of the younger campers were planning on having a lesson in about five minutes, and you can see for yourself if I’m doing anything to help. I hear you’re the one to beat when it comes to swords, after all.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Don’t believe everything you hear, old man. Fine. Bean!”
Bean immediately looked at him and wagged his tail, eyes still glimmering in excitement. He looked between the other dog, Mrs. O’Leary, and Percy, with the most hopeful and happy expression Percy figured a dog could have. He was practically vibrating with excitement and positive energy. Percy couldn’t help but grin and snort.
“Ooooo,” he cooed, “did you find yourself a girlfriend? Gross, dude. I bet you’re the kind of guy that goes “she could step on me and I would thank her,” because she’s just… twice your size. No pooch smooches where I can see em, buster. I’m too young to be a grandpa, but I also definitely don’t wanna know.”
Bean bounded over briefly before picking him up in his mouth. Percy sighed and waved off the aborted cry Quintus gave with his free arm and ignored the stinging saliva and just let himself be carried at this point, facing the ground with a few blunt teeth digging into his jacket and guts. Bean dropped him, slobber and all, at the feet of the larger hound and gave Percy a lick up the back of his head as he stood, no doubt making his hair stick straight up. He barked gleefully as she leaned down to sniff him curiously with a doggy grin.
“Howdy,” he drawled, “I’m Percy, Bean’s emotional support demigod.”
Mrs. O’Leary sniffed him a bit before giving a lick of her own. Percy sighed and wiped the slobber off his face before grabbing his water bottle. It wasn’t like he had ever taken off his bags, since he hadn’t stopped at the cabin yet. He set them on the ground by the stands where he’d probably sit for the lesson and pulled the water out to rinse off the jacket, bags, and any of his slobbered skin. He was a little red, but not to the point of pain, and the water cleared that right up. Anything left he ran through his hair to give it some semblance of order (lost cause, he knew, it wasn’t like he did more than run his fingers through it every so often) and dumped it off to the side where it’d soak into the ground in a few minutes.
Quintus had seemingly recalibrated by the time he was done, and was dragging out some dummies and scolding Mrs. O’Leary for being overly interested in them. She was quickly distracted by Bean again, chasing him out of the arena to go play, probably in the woods.
Percy took out his knife and started trying to make arrow shafts again. He still wasn’t great, but at least they weren’t wobbly anymore. By the time he saw Thalia and the Hunters again, he was determined to be able to make a perfect one.
Campers started to trickle in, all the younger summer campers. Since it was still early May, almost no one had been released from school yet. He had the kids from his cabin, which included Nico, Spencer, and Samson, then he saw Everett from the Wisdom Cabin, Ariana, and a few Sun god campers, notably Austin, who he knew had befriended Will last year. All told, including the kids he didn’t really know, there were ten campers. They all waved at him, some with wide eyed expressions, and he waved easily back, leaned against the seat but not getting up.
“As you’ve seen,” Quintus said kindly, “Percy here will be sitting in on today’s lesson. Now, all of you have been working with the sword for less than two years, but already I’ve seen you make amazing progress…”
Percy kept about three fourths of his attention on the lesson. It wasn’t bad; he clearly knew his way around a sword, even if he seemed to have gotten there mostly through practice, and his movements were precise and slow enough for the students to follow. First, he demonstrated on a dummy, and then he called them up one by one to see and feel the move both against them and against another person, before setting them on a dummy, walking around and correcting them. He noted a few things he would have pointed out, and watched as Quintus eventually made his way around to them. The man implemented something he knew Annabeth called a compliment sandwich, where he said a nice thing, the thing they should work on, and then a nice thing again, and while some of them seemed receptive to it, Nico and Samson were definitely hearing only the thing they should work on and seemed to be taking it as a personal failing. He made a mental note to talk to them about it later. Maybe it was just how they operated, or maybe it was the person they were hearing it from.
His heart panged as he was reminded of the last sword lesson he gave, in a small room with the cots pushed against the wall. He rubbed his wrist, slipping his thumb under the band of the watch, and shook his head. No use dwelling on it now.
He stood, leaving his things on the bench and shaking his head to clear it again like it was full of cobwebs, and walked over to Nico.
“You’ve improved,” he said warmly, “good to see you didn’t let all your skills dry up while I was gone.”
Nico turned his head to grin at him. “Of course not! Tori drills us on the ship, too.”
“Yeah,” Samson snickered from the next dummy over, “she says it’s to make us get our sea legs. I think she just wants to laugh at us sometimes, though. Nico gets really seasick.”
Nico’s pale olive skin washed with red. “I do not!”
“Of the entire Underworld Coalition, who is it that spends half the time on the railing as soon as we get deeper than the creek?”
“I’m not that bad!”
“It could have something to do with domains,” Percy pointed out, “it's not like I’m fond of heights or going underground. But stop letting me distract you, you’re here to practice. This could save your life one day.”
“Yes, Percy,” they groaned with small grins, turning back to their dummies.
He wandered over to Spencer and ruffled the kid’s hair when he grinned at him, then went over to poke Everett’s flagging arm into a better grip. He hid his hands from Quintus and raised an eyebrow at Ariana, signing, “he know ASL?”
She wobbled a hand back and forth, then shrugged. “Maybe. Hasn’t responded, but has owl eyes.”
He hummed and gave her shoulder a squeeze as he walked past her, nudging her foot out slightly. She rolled her eyes but shifted her stance into a more solid one anyway.
Some of the Sun kids needed a stance correction as well, but he gave them easy compliments on good swings and slashes. It wasn’t a compliment sandwich, but it was something at least to soften his actions, even if he didn’t say anything negative. They took to it easily, and he didn’t think they minded.
As they trickled out after the lesson, talking and laughing with an ease Percy cherished, Quintus came to stand beside him.
“You’re very caring.”
Percy snorted, and all good feelings he’d had closed off entirely, reminded of who, exactly, he was talking to. “Of course I am. Who else is going to be? Their parents?”
He walked away before the man could say anything, scooping up his things and heading in the direction of his cabin. Dinner was soon, and he wanted to reconnect with his family and ask Andrea about charming some windows.
Dinner was relaxing, if nothing else. Even with the windows enchanted, Clarisse was sticking to the Big House for now, making a brief appearance to grab a plate and pile it high with food, make an offering, and then retreat again with nods to Mark and Winston. She caught Percy’s eye and inclined her head a bit but otherwise didn’t react to him. His own cabin was more than happy to regale him with their progress in anything and everything, and he quickly got swept back up in the chaos that was Cabin Three. Victoire gave her own reports, and reminded them all that they were taking the night patrol tonight. It wasn’t something that Chiron said they had to do, but they’d kept up the practice for almost a year now, ever since the incident with Thalia’s tree. Occasionally, they’d find a monster, but mostly it was just a way for all of camp to feel a bit more secure, so about eight people took the night patrol or the early morning patrol, and rotated. The Sun Cabin was usually the morning patrollers, since the six of them (more than there had been in winter, Percy noted) were usually up with the dawn anyway. In these long summer days, May or not, that meant they were up early.
Cabin Three, however, took the late night patrol every other day. He didn’t know if the complaining was normal, or played up because he was there, but the complaints had him stifling laughter.
As one of the older members, he got to do patrol alone. Victoire was teamed up with Nico, Azalea with Samson, Andrea with Spencer. Technically, he also had Bean, who was sticking around, apparently, but his dog liked to wander off, probably to go see his new favorite friend in the arena. It was usually quiet, with a monster testing the barrier every handful of weeks, it turned out, and they weren’t due one for a while yet.
Which was why Percy took off sprinting when he heard yelling on the hill.
Percy ran for it, seeing Samson and Azalea standing just on this side of the barrier, weapons out and stances tense. The shadowed figure on the other side looked fairly relaxed, even if he had a sword on him. Peleus didn’t seem concerned, but was carefully watching from his position by the tree. Other pairs were also making beelines for their location, and Percy stopped with perfect visuals.
“Who are you,” Samson demanded, pointing his spear a little further, “how do we know you’re not a monster?! Or a spy?!”
“Oh, right,” the person, just as short as they were, shrugged, careful to not disrupt what was in his arms, “what was the phrase? Yeah, rubber ducks.”
His other cabinmates looked confused at that, but Percy let out a shaky breath and took another step forward until he was in front.
“Cai?”
The boy’s lip ticked up slightly, and he hefted the bundle in his arms a little more. It made a grumbly, sleepy noise. “Hi, Percy. Can you take Marc? My arms are getting tired.”