witchywriterlythings - Tumblr blog

witchywriterlythings · 3 months ago

Text

All Apart of Something's Game

Chapter Three: I Get To Be Right For Once

Dinner came both far too soon and not soon enough. I was starving and I was sure Tyson was too, if his grumbling stomach had anything to say about it, but I knew we were going to have to face the rest of the campers in order to get food.

We stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in, my eyes trying to find campers I recognized and who was new.

Annabeth was shaking as she walked towards her cabin, her hands forcibly still as she moved to lead them to their seats. Her oldest sibling was seventeen, but hadn’t arrived to camp until three years after Annabeth. Seniority wins, even if age doesn’t.

Next came Clarisse, leading the War cabin. Her injuries were taken care of and there was evidence of nectar healed cuts all over body. They must have given it to her after they set her shoulder, to help progress the healing.

The other cabins filed in behind them with tired faces and dropped shoulders. It was like the entire camp was going through college finals and kept pulling all-nighters.

I had been told to wait until the last of the campers filed in by one of the satyrs, though it was more of a game of telephone since he reeked of fear whenever Tyson even looked at him. Poor Tyson sneezed too. I tried to get Tyson over to my table as quickly as possible, but I stupidly stopped to glare when I heard someone make a comment about Tyson at the Sun’s table.

“Peter Johnson, joining us at last.” Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke and pretended he didn’t flinch when I turned to look at him.

I normally wouldn’t have bothered to correct him, but there was someone new at the head table. Someone who smelled of blood and wine in a different way than Mr. D, a way that screamed anger and vengeance. It was only fitting to introduce myself. “Percy Jackson…sir.”

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. “Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: Whatever.”

He looked different than he did last summer, less of a beer-bellied deadbeat from Las Vegas. The blotchy redness to his cheeks hadn’t faded and he was as large as ever, but his shoulders were wider and his chin stronger.

The stranger was sitting in Chiron’s chair, hunched over his empty plate like he thought someone was going to steal it. A starved animal. Hungry. He sniffed the air once like he wasn’t interested, but I could see the way his eyes widened slightly and his hunger drove his nails further into the table. “Poseidon’s child. How…wonderful to meet you.” His smile turned sharper, more predatorial. “I am Tantalus, on special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus Jackson, I do expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble.”

I held back a hiss at the names he was throwing around like they didn’t make my skin crawl off my body, as if he couldn’t feel the heaviness of the air as he said them. He had to know. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to say things just because, if he was a man at all.

His gaze pinned me to the spot despite the fact that I wanted to run to my table, to have something more physical between us. I could practically hear his voice, pizza grease and beer dribbling down his chin. Did I say you could go, boy?

A goblet was placed to his right by a nervous satyr who glanced at Mr. D for reassurance. A nymph brought a plate of barbeque to the table next to him, pulling the poor thing away once their jobs were done.

The hungry thing in Chiron’s chair reached for the goblet first and gripped it like a lifeline, licking his lips and narrowing his eyes. “Root beer. Barq’s special stock. 1967.”

I didn’t understand what he was until I heard his growl, watched the goblet slam down on the table and his hands pull back. I didn’t understand until the goblet filled as it was supposed to, like it hadn’t ignored the rules of camp moments ago.

Mr. D was radiating amusement and spite, something dark in his scent that caused me to shift nervously. Even if the other demigods didn't know exactly what it was, I could hear a few of them also moving behind me. “Perhaps now it will work. Why don’t you try a sip?”

The monster grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and he tried to dab them with his fingers but it was as if he was trying to catch a magnet with its opposite. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue, but that too ran from him before it could end up on his fork, let alone in his mouth. It growled again, glaring at the empty table in front of him while he silently seethed.

“Aren’t you a bit far from the Fields of Punishment?” I asked. We’d seen him when we passed by on our way to my Uncle’s palace, in his lake with the hanging fruit tree. “Whose bright idea was it to put you in charge of children?”

Mr. D sighed like he was bored but I didn’t believe for a second it was him. His sons were here, Castor and Pollux if I remember right. I only really knew of them because they’d visit their dad every few days for a chat. They were the outliers of camp, getting to have their parent in their lives.

“Now that would be telling,” the wretched-one sneered at me. “I’ll be watching you, Percy Jackson. I don’t want any problems at my camp.”

My camp! my mind screamed, enough that I had to clamp down on my tongue to stop it from causing a fight. No matter who sat in the Camp Directors chair, no matter if Mr. D was here or not, Camp Half-Blood was mine. It was Annabeth and Grover’s home. It was safety. Or at least it was supposed to be and if I could help it, I would make it again. “Your camp has problems already…sir.”

“Go sit down, Johnson,” Mr. D said, gesturing away from their table. He must have grown bored with me. “I believe that table over there is yours.”

I didn’t dare say another word as I grabbed Tyson’s hand, earning a few gasps from the audience, and moved to pull him along with me.

“The monster stays here.” It’s teeth glinted in the fading light, making them look sharper than they were. A cheap trick. “We must decide what to do with it.”

“Him,” I snapped. “His name is Tyson. He assisted border patrol today in protecting the camp, putting himself literally in the line of fire so we’d have time to regroup.”

“Well it certainly would be easier if it were a crispy kyklops, but they are rather fire resistant, aren’t they?”

Mr. D hummed into his can of Diet Coke.

“To your table, chop chop,” the monster said through white teeth. He knew what he was doing. He didn’t care. “We need to decide this creature’s fate.”

Tyson grew up on the streets and clearly knew a threat when he saw one because he looked at me with so much fear it hurt to meet his eye. I couldn’t disobey an order, not so obviously. Not without Annabeth to get me out of trouble.

“I’ll be right over here, big guy.” I pointed to my table and made sure to keep my voice calm. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tyson nodded. “I believe you, you are a good friend.”

I patted his arm one more time before taking my seat. Normally I wouldn’t eat when I was this upset, but I took great delight in tearing apart the Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza a nymph brought me while staring directly at our new camp director. I wanted to see how many colors I could make his stupid undead face by the end of the night.

Of course I dropped an offering in the bronze brazier. I thought of the one they thought my father was, who Tyson’s father most definitely was, and prayed they could help. I went back to my seat and proceeded with my plan to torment the head table. I didn’t think things could get much worse.

But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements. I let his name out once in my head, curious to see what would come of it. But it didn’t feel like I thought it would. There was the barest of touches on my nose, like a soap bubble popping, but nothing else. It was like calling Mr. D, well, Mr. D. It was still a title, but it wasn’t the right one. Not the most powerful one.

Interesting.

Tantalus waved his hands to get everyone to stop talking, not even bothering to stand up. “Another fine meal! Or so I am told.” He eyed the refilled dinner plate next to his hands, but kept them to himself until he looked away. As if the food wouldn’t notice he wanted it if he wasn’t looking. “And here on my first day of authority,” he continued, as if his hand wasn’t inching towards it. “I’d like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat.”

I growled.

He made a grab for the plate but it simply zipped away from his fingers and onto the floor.

Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

“And now some changes!” he declared, standing to emphasize his point.“We are reinstituting the chariot races!”

Tantalus was an idiot. His announcement about the return of the chariot races landed with mixed results, mostly disbelief, but the medic campers from the Sun table looked ready to murder him in his sleep.

One in particular was starting to glow faintly at the edges, his eyes flashing solid gold and his blonde hair curling towards the top of his head in what sort of looked like ears. He had to be new, or I would have noticed him sooner. Most of the Sun’s children were more classical, but this one…oh this one was newer. And yet, far closer to what I was than any of his siblings. He would be one to watch.

I was pulled out of my musings by one of his sisters revealing the casualty list from previous chariot races, causing some of the campers who looked excited to shrink back a little. Deaths in camp weren’t supposed to happen. Mutilations on the other hand…not really all that surprising.

“Of course, but what honor and glory will fall to the winners, eh?” Tantalus looked over the crowd of campers with gray eyes. “The first race will be held in three days. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team’s cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?”

While the idea of no chores was tempting, I didn’t expect the complete 180 it made those on the fence do.

Finally, someone stood up to say something, but it wasn’t who I would have first thought of.

Clarisse might have been a bully, but she was also possessive and she thought camp was hers. It was kind of funny. Her hands were shaking slightly, but her scent gave nothing away as she stood from her seat. “What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots—”

“Ah, the hero of the day,” Tantalus exclaimed even as his eyes narrowed on her. I held down a growl. “Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!”

Clarisse blinked, then tried to argue. My respect for her went up slightly as her eyes flickered to her fellow patrol members, their arms still bandaged to keep the healing salve in place. Most campers couldn’t take nectar or ambrosia very often.

Tantalus brushed her off, his smile not reaching his eyes and his hands curling like claws as he literally waved for her to sit.

“But the tree—” Her siblings pulled her down, one even going as far as to cover her mouth. Apparently his future trip to the infirmary appeared worth it.

“Before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here.” Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

I gripped the table as my claws tried to expand. The noise of the stone scraping was enough to force them back, if just so I wouldn’t have to hear that. I still wanted to slice Tantulus’ throat to ribbons. The urge only increased as he started spreading fear through the campers by reminding them of the one-eyed-ones ‘reputation’ as it were.

I wanted to roar in defense of those in the forge, remind them all who exactly made the god’s weaponry. And imbed a trident into the stupid things gut.

And yet Tantulus was still talking. “We need a place to keep it! I’ve thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous.” His gaze turned to Cabin Eleven’s table, where Travis and Connor Stoll were looking at the wood determinedly. They’d taken over for Luke after…he’d left.

My teeth snapped aggressively. The Traveler’s cabin was filled to the brim as it was, and the campers who were actually the Traveler’s children were probably still reeling from Luke’s betrayal. I had my suspicions about him from the beginning, but he was an integral part of the camp. Everyone was feeling his loss, especially his siblings.

“Come now,” Tantalus chided. “The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kenneled?”

Suddenly, gasps filled the pavilion. Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident—the same symbol that had appeared above me the day Poseidon had claimed me as his son.

Being claimed was rare. I knew that. I hated it, hated that there were other campers that might never know who their parent was, or even worse, did know but still hadn’t been claimed. But I knew the look on Tantulus’ face. He smelled blood.

I stood as calmly as I could, despite my pounding heart, and walked over to Tyson. “Guess it’s official then! Come on, you get to sit with me now.” I nudged him with my elbow to get him to stop looking at the glowing trident.

He looked down at me, confused. “Off-ish-al? What did that mean?”

“We’re brothers.”

Tyson frowned and went to say something, but he was cut off.

Tantalus roared with laughter. “Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!”

Everybody followed his lead and laughed except Annabeth and a few of my other friends.

I grinned sharply at him, letting my mask slip just the barest bit so my eyes went completely black. With the campers behind me, the only other one to see was the twice-born god. You have no idea.

The ghost flinched back in surprise.

I shoved my more monstrous features back in the chest I was forced to keep them in, turning back to my table. It really didn’t seem that appetizing to have to stay, so I came up with a better idea. “Come on, Tyson. Let’s go fishing.”

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #unhinged series #feral percy jackson #feral demigods #feral percy #all apart of something's game

3 notes · View notes

witchywriterlythings · 3 months ago

Text

All Apart of Something's Game

Chapter Two: No One Bullies My Family But Me

I know what my mom might have wanted me to do. She didn’t like when I ran away from things. But monsters attacked, Annabeth was here for some reason, and Tyson was panicking. He’d never dealt with any other monsters before, not after the sphinx.

Speaking of Annabeth, she was waiting for us down the street. She pulled Tyson and me off the sidewalk just as a fire truck screamed past, heading for Meriwether Prep. “Where’d you find him?” she demanded, pointing at Tyson.

I will admit to being a bit animalistic in my possesiveness of my friends and if it was under different circumstances, I might have hugged her and checked over her injuries. But I’d just been attacked by cannibal giants, Tyson was my brother, and all Annabeth could do was glare at him like he was the problem.

It wasn’t like I could actually tell her that middle bit though, not without questions, so I settled for, “He’s my friend.”

“Is he homeless?”

“What does that have to do with anything? He can hear you, you know. Why don’t you ask him?”

She looked surprised. “He can talk?”

“I can talk,” Tyson admitted as he shifted under her atttention. “You are pretty.”

“Ah! Gross!” Annabeth stepped away from him like he had just thrown up or something.

I growled lowly and stepped between them, keeping Tyson behind me. “Leave him alone,” I hissed warningly. I didn’t want to have to choose between them, not when I wasn’t sure who I would side with. When she raised her hands to show she was backing off, I turned to check Tyson over for injuries.

“‘m okay,” he promised and showed me his palms. “The fire no hurt me.”

“Of course not,” Annabeth muttered like he was an idiot and I shot her another look. She of course ignored me and I was starting to remember how annoying she could be. “I’m surprised the Laistrygonians had the guts to attack you with him around.”

“Is that what they were? Back in the gym. Laistry-what?”

“Laistrygonians. They’re a race of giant cannibals who live in the far north. Odysseus ran into them once, but I’ve never seen them as far south as New York before.”

“Laistry—I can’t even say that. What would you call them in English?”

She thought about it for a moment. “Canadians,” she decided. I snorted and she grinned cheekily before her face went serious again. “Now come on, we have to get out of here.”

“I don’t think the police will be after me, I mean maybe for a witness statement? I think I did a good job of…”

“That’s the least of our problems,” she interrupted me. Which was honestly kind of fair. “Have you been having the dreams?”

“The dreams … about Grover?”

Her face turned pale. “Grover? No, what about Grover?”

“He was getting chased by something, something I couldn’t…he was in Florida.” I tried to put my thoughts together and told her about my dream. Tyson patted my head to comfort me and I resolutely ignored him. He was also doing it because he was taller and he could.

“Why? What were you dreaming about?” I asked.

Her eyes looked stormy, like her mind was racing a million miles an hour. “Camp,” she said at last. “Big trouble at camp.”

“What about camp? My mom was going to talk to me about something tonight.”

“I don’t know exactly. Something’s wrong. We have to get there right away. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia, trying to stop me. Have you had a lot of attacks?”

I shook my head. “None all year … until today.”

“None? But how …” Her eyes drifted to Tyson. “Oh.”

Oh. So Annabeth knew what Tyson was then, which I guess explained a bi of her behavior, but at the same time he had just saved my life so I was still a bit annoyed. “Look, I get that he’s big but he’s really funny and my friend, so I don’t get why you’re so…”

“Percy, you don’t get it okay, he’s…”

“He’s what? There’s nothing wrong with him.” I crossed my arms and she did it back, flexing just to show off how much bigger her arms were than mine. I had let my training slip a little over the school year, mostly because my mom said no weapons training in the apartment.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “He’s not…you know what, we don’t have time for this, we have to get going.”

“No! You can’t keep talking about him like he’s not here and not explain why you’re being a jerk.”

A siren wailed. A police car raced past our alley.

“We don’t have time for this,” Annabeth said. “We’ll talk in the taxi.”

“A taxi all the way to camp?” I said. “You know how much money—”

“Trust me.”

I hesitated. She was acting so weird but if camp really was in danger…“Tyson is coming too.”

“Yeah.” Annabeth looked grim. “We definitely need to take him. Now come on.”

I didn’t like the way she said that, as if Tyson were a big disease we needed to get to the hospital, but I followed her down the alley.

“Here.” Annabeth stopped us on the corner of Thomas and Trimble. She fished around in her backpack, her tongue sticking out slightly from between her teeth. “I hope I have one left.” She was even worse than I’d realized at first. Her chin was cut. She smelled like wet soil and decaying leaves, and not just because of the ones stuck in her matted hair. That was going to be a pain to fix. She was also scared. Really scared.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

All around us, sirens wailed. No doubt Matt Sloan had given them a statement by now. He’d probably twisted the story around so that Tyson and I were the bloodthirsty cannibals, but I still had a little hope I had done enough to convince them it wasn’t my fault.

“Found one. Thank the gods.” Annabeth pulled out a drachma.

“Annabeth, New York taxi drivers won’t take that,” I reminded her. “Who are we catching a ride with?”

”Stêthi,” she shouted in Ancient Greek. “Ô hárma diabolês!” Stop, Chariot of Damnation!

I took a step back as the words washed over me and made my skin crawl with their prickling. That didn’t exactly make me feel real excited about whatever her plan was.

She threw her coin into the street, but instead of clattering on the asphalt, the drachma sank right through and disappeared.

Then, just where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking space—bubbling red liquid like blood. Then a car erupted from the ooze.

I couldn’t stop a growl from the back of my throat coming through, which made Tyson reach out to hold my hand. The whole thing radiated power. Old power, but not old in the way my father was old. As if it had always been old, was born old. I know children of Wisdom are supposed to make good plans, but I was starting to doubt that.

The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a mop of grizzled hair covering her eyes, and she spoke in a weird mumbling way, like she’d just left the dentist after a shot of Novocain. “Passage? Passage?”

“Three to Camp Half-Blood,” Annabeth said. She opened the cab’s back door and waved at me to get in, like it was perfectly fine.

“Ach!” the old woman screeched. “We don’t take his kind!” She pointed a bony finger at me, barring her gums. “Or the other one.”

“Extra pay,” Annabeth promised, though she glanced at me uncertainly. “Three more drachma on arrival.”

“Done!” the woman screamed and pulled herself back into the window and rolled it back up.

I shoved Tyson in the car first, knowing on turns he would squish whoever was next to him and that Annabeth would probably have something to say about sitting next to him. I squeezed in the middle. Annabeth crawled in last.

Of the three sisters in the front seat, the one driving said, “Long Island! Out-of-metro fare bonus! Ha!” She floored the accelerator, and my head slammed against the backrest.

The drivers argued back and forth, naming each other with each ease even as their power started flooding the taxi and swirling like their smoke around our feet. I pulled mine up for a second, before deciding having them flat on whatever counted as the floor was better than balancing on my tail the whole ride.

Next to me, Tyson groaned and grabbed the seat. “Not feeling so good.”

“Oh, man,” I said, because I’d seen Tyson get carsick before and it was terrifying to say the least. “Hang in there, big guy. Anybody got a garbage bag or something?” This is why we never took taxi’s.

That and they were for tourists who didn’t know better. If you could walk, you walked. If you could take the subway, take the subway. Who drove in the city?

I looked over at Annabeth, who was hanging on for dear life, and I gave her a why-did-you-do-this-to-me-you-lived-on-the-streets-for-almost-a-year-you-should-know-better look.

She rolled her eyes at me because of course she did. “Hey,” she said, “Gray Sisters Taxi is the fastest way to camp.”

“We’ve had famous people in this cab!” the sister on the right exclaimed. “Jason! You remember him?”

“Don’t remind me!” the driver wailed, swerving to avoid a group of cosplayers trying to use the crosswalk. “And we didn’t have a cab back then, you old bat. That was three thousand years ago!”

“Give me the tooth!” the one on the end tried to grab at the driver's mouth, but she was swatted away. The one in the middle looked so tired and for a second I related so hard.

It only took a second before she was brought into the fight, the others demanding the eye they shared between them. “No!” the one in the middle screeched. “You had it yesterday!”

“But I’m driving, you old hag!”

“Excuses! Turn! That was your turn!”

We swerved at seventy miles an hour and boy was I glad I was in the middle as I slammed into Tyson. If I had been on the other side, I would have been a bug on the windshield. We shot up the Williamsburg Bridge at seventy miles an hour, the three sisters slapping at each other as they tried to grab at each other's faces. With their hair flying and their mouths open, screaming at each other, I refused to look out any of the windows since clearly our driver wasn’t either.

The one with the eye managed to steal the tooth from the driver and shoved it in her mouth triumphantly.

The car swerved towards the edge of the bridge, cars honking and swears ringing through the air. I wasn’t sure if it was because of our taxi or it was just a typical day for everyone.

“‘Ivit back! ‘Ivit back!” the driver screeched.

“You’re going to die, if anyone’s interested! I don’t think anyone else would survive falling off a bridge!” I mean. Tyson might and it’s not like I’d ever let Annabeth die. But it would still really suck.

“The Gray Sisters know what they’re doing. They’re really very wise,” Annabeth tried to assure me. It really should have worked, coming from a daughter of wisdom.

Yeah. It didn’t.

The one on the right grinned, showing off her newly acquired tooth. “Of course we’re wise! We know things!”

“How late the subway is going to make you!” the driver bragged, still hitting her sister. “The capital of Tuvalu!”

Funafuti, my brain provided for some reason. How I knew that, I have no idea. Maybe it sank?

“The location you seek!” the middle one added before flinching back.

Her sisters pummeled her from either side, screaming, “Be quiet! Be quiet! He didn’t even ask yet!”

“What location? What do—?”

“Nothing! You aren’t seeking anything, just as you said!”

“Tell me.”

“No!” they all screamed.

What followed…was NOT my fault, no matter what Annabeth says. The sisters, in their arguing, actually ended up fighting each other and flinging their eye into the back seat with us. Which meant no one driving could see.

NOT my fault!

She’s totally right about what came next though.

I picked up the eye.

“Nice boy!” the driver cried, as if she could still see me through it. “Give it back!”

“Not until you tell me. What is the location I seek?”

“No time!” the middle sister cried. “Accelerating!”

I refused to look out the window, knowing I would see something that might make this harder for me. I needed it. I needed to know what they meant, it sang with power and something wild.

“Percy! The cab will explode into a million pieces and us along with it! Give them back the eye,” Annabeth demanded. I ignored her.

I grinned sharply even though they couldn’t see. “Tyson, roll down the window.”

“No!”

Tyson, even nauseous and trying not to shower us in vomit, listened to me.

“30, 31, 75, 12!” they screamed.

The numbers settled on me like an itch in my skin. I knew what that meant, I did, but I didn't understand. I know that it’s a location, that I need to find something, but I was missing something and I hated it. “Where is that? What do they mean!”

“That’s all we can tell you,” the one on the right screeched. “Now give us the eye! Almost to camp!”

She wasn’t wrong, I could see the road turning to dirt and the trees were thinning towards the hill, except Thalia’s in the distance.

“Percy!” Annabeth said more urgently. “Give them the eye now!”

I decided listening to Annabeth was probably the best idea, since she tended to be right more often than not. By a lot. It was really annoying sometimes. I tossed the eye to the driver.

The old lady snatched it up, pushed it into her eye socket like somebody putting in a contact lens, and blinked. “Whoa!” She slammed on the brakes. The taxi spun four or five times in a cloud of smoke and squealed to a halt in the middle of the farm road at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

Tyson belched loudly, thankfully having opened his door too. “Better now.”

I groaned from my bruised arms. “Do we pay now?”

“Out! Out!” the sisters cried instead.

“Let’s go,” Annabeth said determinedly.

I crawled out of the cab after her, only to be slammed with the smell of rotten eggs and singed hair. It was like being back with Smelly Gabe and I growled automatically, my hair standing up on end.

It wasn’t hard to find the source. Why was it always bulls?

On the list of mythological things I hated, trios of old ladies were at the top. But bulls? Oh bulls were a close second. I had to fight Pasiphae’s son getting to camp and it almost killed my mother. For that alone they really should be at the top of my list.

Maybe after this fight, they’d officially be at the top. Two bulls, bronze ones the size of elephants, and breathing fire were rampaging the hill.

Our drivers sped away the second we were free from the cab, not even waiting for the extra drachmas they’d been promised. They just left us on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, Tyson and me still in our burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.

“Oh, fuck,” Annabeth said she looked over the battle. If it wasn’t so dire, I might have gasped at her language.

The bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. Even before Thalia’s sacrifice, the border around camp was strong enough to handle most monsters, except those sent by the Gods themselves. For the bulls to be crossing the border, the entirety of the camp’s defenses had to be failing.

Ten campers in full armor were trying their best to defend the border, but they were mostly running around and trying not to die. All except one.

“Border patrol, to me!” A girl’s voice called—gruff and familiar.

Clarisse.

“We have to help her,” Annabeth said as she pulled her knife from…somewhere.

Normally, rushing to Clarisse’s aid would not have been high on my “to do” list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time we’d met she tried to introduce my head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of War, and I had a very serious disagreement with her father last summer. She hates me because she thinks I humiliated her dad. Totally not projecting because I beat her during that one fight, my first Capture the Flag. I went to therapy for a little while because my mom was willing to try anything when I was younger, but then the therapist tried to eat us, so no more therapy.

No matter what my feelings about her, or more accurately her feelings about me, she was in trouble. Her armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull’s shoulder.

I uncapped my ballpoint pen, my sword blazing to life in my hand. It didn’t feel as right as my claws, but it was still better than every other weapon I’d tried. “Tyson, stay here. I don’t want you taking any more chances.”

“No!” Annabeth said. “We need him.”

I stared at her. “He can’t, he’s just a…”

“Percy,” she snapped, “do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus himself. We can’t fight them without Medea’s Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We’ll get burned to a crisp.”Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed. “I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my night-stand at home. Why didn’t I bring it?”

“I don’t know what that is, but he is staying out of this. Tyson, stay back.” I raised my sword. “I’m going in.”

“Percy! I—” He tried to protest, but I was already running up the hill.

Clarisse was calling for the others to get in phalanx formation, with the few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide—and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.

Annabeth went for the campers who were too busy trying to avoid one of the bulls attacks to join them, probably hoping to allow more to join Clarisse since she didn’t have a shield to do it herself. She taunted one of the bulls into chasing her, then turned invisible, completely confusing the monster.

I was close enough to start seeing who was under the helmets, but I forced my brain to focus on the danger. None of the campers seemed to notice me, all of their attention on the enemy in front of them.

“Hold the line!” Clarisse ordered her warriors.

Even if I didn’t like her, I had to admit that I saw a lot more of her father’s older form in her than the new one I had met on my quest last summer. She was brave and looked like she was born to wear Greek battle armor, born to lead an army.

But she didn’t have an army. She had six campers.

There was a shout as the bull chasing after Annabeth lost interest, turning instead towards Clarisse as the biggest threat.

I didn’t dare say anything to distract her. I yelled for Bull Number Two, growling loudly enough that it actually hesitated.

Bull Number One slammed into the phalanx, forcing them back an inch but still bouncing off their shields. It roared in anger and blasted some of the heroes with its fiery breath. Their shields melted right off their arms. They dropped their weapons and ran as Bull Number Two closed in on Clarisse for the kill.

I lunged towards her, grabbing the straps of her armor. I dragged her out of the way just as Bull Number One freight-trained past. I gave it a good swipe with Riptide and cut a huge gash in its flank, but the monster just creaked and groaned and kept on going.

My scales bubbled to the surface before I could stop them, the heat radiating off the stupid things melting my mask right off my arms. I hissed from the pain, but I had to get Clarisse to safety even if she was cursing me the whole time.

I dropped her in a heap next to the pine tree and turned to face the bulls. We were the only line of defense between them and the camp at our backs, and I refused to let it fall.

Annabeth was taking over for Clarisse and trying to get the campers to spread out and keep the bulls distracted. Even with their injuries, they could still run.

However, both bulls only had eyes for me. Did they know what I was? Did they know I was their biggest threat? I longed to unleash my rage on them but even if I saved camp like that, I might lose it. For now, I had to fight like the rest of them.

So, fighting with a sword it was. I lunged at the closest one but it blew flames at me. I rolled aside, still managing to slash with my sword and lop off part of the monster’s snout. I landed hard on my right shoulder, my hand spasaming from the pain and forcing me to drop Riptide.

The other bull was drawing closer.

Annabeth shouted, “Tyson, help him!”

“NO!” I roared. He was a baby.

Tyson wailed “Can’t—get—through!” as he tried his hardest to get past the border.

“I, Annabeth Chase, give you permission to enter camp!

Tyson was probably a five year old. Maybe six, at most. My mom didn’t know much but she prayed to her old boyfriend for answers since it was easier for him to answer her than me. My father would come instead and we needed someone in the know.

His age was all I could think about as he barreled towards me, yelling my name and diving between me and the bull. He reached out as if to shove it away.

It unleashed a nuclear firestorm.

“Tyson!” I screamed, the earth shaking beneath me with the force of it.

The blast swirled around him like a red tornado and I knew if he was dead, the bulls would go back to where they came from ruined.

But when the fire died, there he was. Completely unharmed. Even his clothes, thank the Gods. The bull must’ve been caught off guard, because before it could unleash a second blast, Tyson balled his fists and slammed them into the bull’s face. “BAD COW!”

Annabeth ran over to check on me, a canteen of nectar in her hands that she must have stashed in her backpack before she left her dad’s.

“The other bull?” I asked.

Clarisse was just finishing with it, the remains of her spear in it’s joints as it spun in circles. She pulled off her helmet, catching sight of us quickly and marched toward us.

“Clarisse,” Annabeth said, before anything could escalate,“you’ve got wounded campers.”

That stopped her in her tracks. No matter who they were, Clarisse cared more for the soldiers under her command than her own siblings. “I’ll be back,” she growled, and turned on her heel to storm away.

I checked over Tyson as best I could. “Mom is going to kill you when she finds out.”

Tyson looked down like he was embarrassed. “I am sorry. Came to help. Disobeyed you.”

“My fault,” Annabeth said. “I had no choice. I had to let Tyson cross the boundary line to save you. Otherwise, you would’ve died.”

“Let him cross the boundary line?’” I asked. “But—”

“Percy,” she said, “have you ever looked at Tyson closely? I mean … in the face. Ignore the Mist, and really look at him.”

I stared at her for a second before it finally hit me. I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. “You think…?”

“I know it’s hard, but you have to know what he is.” Annabeth glanced at him with disgust, though a little less than before which was progress I guess. “I need you to look at him. Please.”

I shook my head. “What do you think I’m going to see? I know Tyson, I know who he is and you really need to stop treating him like…” I tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t also make Tyson cry.

Tyson shuffled next to me and I reached out to pat his arm. “Your friend is upset. I do something wrong?”

“No, buddy, she’s just—”

“He’s a kyklopes, Percy! Why do you think he was able to survive the fire?” She sniffed. “He's a baby, by the looks of him. Probably why he couldn’t get past the boundary line as easily as the bulls. Tyson’s one of the homeless orphans.”

“One of?”

“They’re in almost all the big cities,” Annabeth said distastefully. “They’re…mistakes, Percy. Children of nature spirits and gods—well, one god in particular, usually. No one wants them. They get tossed aside. They grow up wild on the streets. I don’t know how this one found you, but he obviously likes you. We should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do.”

“What do you mean, let him decide? Why wouldn’t Tyson be able to stay?” I decided to ignore how she was treating him for now, it would just get us nowhere and I needed answers.

Annbeth pressed her palms to her eyes for a second and huffed a breath before putting on her serious face. “Percy, he’s a mon—”

"I know, Annabeth!” I know interrupting is rude, but I refused to let her call my brother a monster. “I have always known Tyson wasn't human." I paused to rub my eyes, trying not to cry in frustration and exhaustion. "I know he’s a kyklopes. I’m not stupid.”

She took a step back like I’d slapped her. "But…" she said, “then why—”

Clarisse stomping back towards us interrupted whatever Annabeth was going to say. She wiped the soot off her forehead, glaring at me like even that was my fault. “Jackson, if you can stand, get up. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what’s happened.”

“Who?” I asked, feeling a twinge in my stomach but not much else. He must not have been important.

“The activities director,” Clarisse said impatiently.

Annabeth’s head snapped towards her in a fashion so similar to Nico, I was both concerned for her neck and wondering if she was more interesting than I originally thought. “Chiron is the activities director. And where’s Argus? He’s head of security. He should be here.”

Clarisse made a sour face. “Argus got fired. You two have been gone too long. Things are changing.”

“What happened?” I growled, trying to keep my temper in check as I grew frustrated with the lack of information.

”That happened,” Clarisse snapped. She pointed to Thalia’s tree.

When the daughter of justice had died, her father had for once attempted to do something good and turned her into a tree, housing what was left of her spirit and immortalized her sacrifice. Thalia’s spirit reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters, just as she had protected her friends. The pine had been here ever since, strong and healthy.

But now, its needles were yellow. A huge pile of dead ones littered the base of the tree. And suddenly it hit me how sick everything smelled. The very land was making me dizzy, the air made my throat itchy, and the water was far too still.

Three feet off the ground, there was a puncture wound in the trunk oozing something sticky and dark green that dripped slowly onto the needles.

I wanted to vomit.

The magical borders were failing because Thalia’s tree was dying.

Someone had poisoned it. And I was pretty sure I knew who.

You know that feeling of dizziness that happens when you stand up too fast and the whole world tilts a little bit? The entirety of our walk through camp felt like like. Instead of playing basketball on the court by the Big House, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. I could feel the naiads moving around the lake, as restless as the others.

We made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer. Nobody stopped to talk. Most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties—running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school. And believe me, I know. I’ve been kicked out of a couple.

None of that mattered to Tyson.

My little brother was amazed by everything we walked by, constantly asking, “whasthat?!” so fast his words slurred. Growing up on the streets of Manhattan, the most grass he’d ever seen was Central Park. It wasn’t a surprise he was so fascinated with the pegasi, or the cabins. He looked at me in awe when I pointed to ours. “You … have a cabin? Do you live with friends in the cabin?”

“Not right now, but maybe you can stay with me. We’ll have to talk to Chiron about it, okay?” I could hear Annabeth suck in a breath next to me. I didn’t understand her problem. “He’s a kentaur and he helps run the camp. If he’s in the Big House, he might be in his wheelchair though. It’s magic.”

Tyson perked up. “Magic?”

I grinned. “Come on, just remember to ask nicely.”

When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favorite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze.

“Pony!” he cried in total rapture. He’d been obsessed with horses ever since my mom had taken us to central park during winter break. Most of them were pretty skittish around him, but for some reason one of the mares decided he was a foal and refused to leave him alone the entire time we were there. The police officer on her back was hilariously confused.

Chiron turned, and his offended expression was almost as funny if I’m honest. “I beg your pardon?”

Annabeth ran up and hugged him. “Chiron, what’s happening? You’re not … leaving?” Her voice was shaky. Chiron was like a father to her, since her family situation was…tense, I guess you could say.

Chiron ruffled her hair, the only one who could do so without losing a hand, and gave her the kind of smile my mom gave Tyson. “Hello, child. And Percy, my goodness. You’ve grown over the year!”

Why did adults always say that? I swallowed that thought down. “Clarisse said you were … you were …”

Chiron quickly explained what had occurred as best he could, packing up his things as he talked. He sighed, “some in Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” I asked.

Chiron’s face darkened and he turned away from us, turning off his boombox.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement, shuffling again andreaching out a hand before pulling it back. “Pony?”

Chiron sniffed. “My dear young Cyclops! I am a kentaur. ”

“Chiron,” I said, trying to get his attention again. “What’s happening to the tree? How do we heal it?”

He shook his head sadly. “Thalia’s tree has been infected…some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus, something old and too tired to try returning.”

“Then we know who’s responsible. The Crooked-One.”

“Do not speak of him, not here. Not now.”

“But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This has to be his idea. He’d get Luke to do it, you have to know that.”

“Perhaps,” Chiron said. “But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. Lord Zeus still refuses to acknowledge that the titan lord may be rising and so…The tree has only a few weeks of life left.” He went to say something but stopped himself.

“What? What were you thinking?” Annabeth asked.

“No,” Chiron said softly, shaking his head. “A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago.”

“What is it?” I asked. “We’ll go find it!”

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the stop button on his boom box. Then he turned and rested his hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eyes. “Percy, you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It’s much too dangerous.”

“Why?”

He ignored me. Typical of adults. “But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave.”

“Why?” I asked again. “I want to do something! I can’t just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be—”

“Overrun by monsters,” Chiron said. “Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life.”

“Luke was the one here. Wherever the titan lord is, he’s still licking his wounds and letting others do his dirty work.” I went to say something else but then I saw Annabeth’s face and clicked my jaw shut.

She was trying hard not to cry.

I felt like shit for mentioning Luke.

Chiron brushed a tear from her cheek. “Stay with Percy, child,” he told her. “Keep him safe.”

“Hey! I do fine,” I protested, but neither of them looked at me.

“Chiron …” Annabeth said. “You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—” Her eyes teared up and I could practically feel her panic at the thought.

“Swear you will do your best to keep Percy from danger,” he insisted instead of answering her very reasonable question. “Swear upon the River Styx.”

My mind blanked. One moment I was next to Chiron, and then suddenly I was between him and Annabeth, half crouched as a mix between a hiss and a growl came from my throat like it didn’t know how human it wanted to be.

The power behind those words, that demand—I finally understood what it might feel like for a human to fall to the bottom of the ocean. The very air around us was heavier than a building, both gone from beneath my feet and crushing me from all sides.

Asking anyone to swear that was a threat. And Annabeth, Annabeth was mine. Mine to protect, my friend. To demand she keep me from danger was like asking her to take my place and I would rather die.

“Percy?” She wasn’t scared. Confused, maybe.

Chiron was watching me with the skittishness of an animal facing an unknown predator. So at least he wasn’t confused. He might not know what I was, he was far too young for that, but he was at least starting to understand I wasn’t just a son of the Sea God. “Very well,” he said. “Please keep an eye on each other in my absence. I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It’s possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved—” He glanced towards me and his legs shuffled slightly, his tail swishing faster. “—one way or another.”

Annabeth took this change in conversation as well as she could. She put a hand over her mouth to pretend she wasn’t sobbing.

Chiron patted her shoulder awkwardly and I never related to him more. What do you do when girls cry? I can’t just give her a peanut butter sandwich, right? “There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. Perhaps they won’t destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear.”

A conch horn blew across the valley. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner—and for Chiron to leave.

He sighed as he looked out the window for a second, dramatic to the end, and then turned back to us. “I will contact your mother, Percy, and let her know you’re safe. No doubt she’ll be worried by now. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger.”

When aren’t I? I thought saltily.

Tyson called after him as he moved down the hall, “Pony! Don’t go!”

I realized I’d forgotten to tell Chiron about my dream of Grover. I wanted to rip my hair out in frustration, nothing was like it was supposed to be!

Tyson started bawling almost as bad as Annabeth. I tried to tell them that things would be okay, but I didn’t believe it. I really wished I had some peanut butter.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #unhinged series #feral percy jackson #feral demigods #feral percy #all apart of something's game

1 note · View note

witchywriterlythings · 3 months ago

Text

All Apart of Something's Game

Chapter One: My Best Friend Gets A Shopping Trip and I Get Dodge-ball

The new school year started off with a big surprise. First off, the classes at my new school weren’t actually too bad since Meriweather had this whole “alternative” view on academia which meant we didn’t have desks or tests or grades, and our teachers chilled with us on bean bags while wearing jeans and rock t-shirts.

They also were much more accommodating with my ADHD and dyslexia, recording classes so I could review lessons and making the learning active so I was able to focus easier. On the first day, my music teacher had us all come up with a beat that everyone had to try and copy. Then for the rest of class, if someone started tapping or making noise, everyone had to copy and the last person to do so was ‘it’ next.

The biggest thing, though, was about a week into the school year when they held an assembly in the gym. The mats were spread out all over the floor mixed in with bean bags so some kids were napping while we waited for teachers.

“What’s up Meriweather!” Our headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, said cheerfully as he looked over all of us, not phased in the slightest by the literal snoring coming from by the locker rooms. “As part of our efforts to give you all the best chance we can, we’ve decided to invite a new student to school this year. He’s had it rough growing up, but I’m sure all of you will give him a warm welcome.” He waved someone forward from the gym doors. “This is Tyson.”

Now I had been working on hiding some of my more…animalistic features. My mom wasn’t exactly happy with how much I had let it slip without her there and my senses were starting to get overwhelming. I mean, school locker rooms? In middle school? Yeah. But even with my slightly dampened powers, I clocked my half-brother the second he stepped out of the shadows.

Tyson, as they called him, stood out immediately. He had six inches over even the tallest of the classes, even standing over some of the teachers, and was built like the Abominable Snowman. The ground cushioned his feet when he walked, causing the wood to creak. And under the stench of New York alley-way, he smelled like salt and metal and the air before a storm. His shaggy hair covered his face as he shuffled over to the headmaster, led by two teachers.

“Thank you for joining us!” Mr. Bonsai was still smiling, even if he looked like he would gag any second. “Say hello to your new classmates.”

“Heh-low,” Tyson’s voice boomed despite sounding like a toddler trying out words for the first time.

To cut a long story short, I took him home with me.

My mom was gone for one of her writing workshops, so we had time to kill when we got back to the apartment.

“What do you want to eat, big guy?” I was willing to make anything, since I’d shared my lunch with him already and both of us were probably starving. Why Meriweather thought a homeless kid would be able to bring his own lunch was beyond me. “There’s some leftovers from dinner last night if you want some.”

Tyson shrugged and dragged his socks across the rug from the hallway. His toes peeked through the holes. “Peanut butter?”

“Yeah, we got peanut butter.” Since he wasn’t very talkative, I figured it would be safe to toast some bread and give him a sandwich instead of trying to figure out something else. And since he didn’t want any, I heated up the fish for myself. I got us both glasses of water and set everything down at the table. “We gotta wash our hands first.”

Tyson watched me do it before trying himself, though he looked at the bottle of soap like he’d never seen it before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Slimy.”

Eventually, once his skin was free of any visible dirt and the water ran clear, we sat down to eat. I didn’t bother with table manners, since I didn’t want Tyson to feel bad if he didn’t have any. And my mom wasn’t there to make me act nice. We both scarfed down our food in a few minutes and I had to get Tyson some milk to get the peanut butter to stop sticking in his mouth.

“Percy?” My mom called as she unlocked the front door.

“Give me a second, big guy,” I told Tyson before running over to see my mom. Finally, an adult! “Your idiot ex-boyfriend has another kid and he’s here and I don’t know how to explain all this to him because what if Uncle gets mad about it?”

My mom raised her eyebrows. Of course when I referred to my dad, I called him such, but it was much more fun to call the God of the Seas her ex-boyfriend if we were talking about him. Especially since my mom got exasperated with me every time. “He did what now?”

“He’s in the kitchen.”

My mom peeked around the corner, startling when she caught sight of Tyson who sort of waved at her before going back to looking at his plate quietly. “Percy. Percy, your new friend isn’t like you.”

“What do you mean? He smells like dad though.”

“Baby, I need you to really look at him. I need you to look him in the eye.”

Oh.

Tyson didn’t really need the whole “the greek gods are alive and you’re their kid speech” but it took him a few minutes for it to sink in that we were brothers. He immediately started crying and reached out for a hug, which I couldn’t have said no to. It was like being looked up at by a puppy who wanted cuddles. Who says no to that?

While I got my ribs slightly crushed, he was much gentler with my mom. She didn’t seem fully on board with the idea of me adopting a circle-eyed half-brother until I asked if we could walk him home when he had to leave and she saw his refrigerator box.

“Nope,” was all she said before she grabbed both our hands and started dragging us back towards the apartment. Everyone seems to think I get it from my dad, but really I’m more like my mom if you think about it. She once told me the story of how he caught her attention, how other he seemed, standing there on the beach. She really had a soft spot for us monsters.

Tyson didn’t stay with us every night, he refused to. Apparently if he didn’t spend most of his nights there, he might lose his spot. I asked him once why he would need the alley when he had us and he just shrugged. “For when you gone.”

I tried to stick with him as much as possible in school. Once the other kids discovered he was a big softie, despite his massive strength and his scary looks, they made themselves feel good by trying to pick on him. I had to bare my teeth at more than one kid who looked at him wrong, and my reputation plummeted each time.

Let alone when the school bully decided to try slamming Tyson into the lockers, my reaction afterwards probably wasn’t the smartest. Matt Sloan wasn’t big or strong, but he acted like he was. He had shaggy black hair, and he always dressed in expensive but sloppy clothes, like he wanted everybody to see how little he cared about his family’s money but refused to actually lower himself enough to shop at a thrift store. And his nose was now permanently like that.

He left us alone for the most part throughout the rest of the year. Even if Tyson wouldn’t make him regret it, I would. Things were going great.

And then the nightmares started. At first it was just feelings of wildness, a buzz that would leave me in a haze instead of letting me sleep. That evolved into walking through barren wastelands, the feeling of despair crawling up my legs and pinning me to the floor. And the night before the last day of school, it came to a pitch.

I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town in Miami. It was the middle of the night, with a storm blowing in as wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up.

I don’t know why I knew we were in Miami, I had never been. Of course it being Florida was pretty obvious, it looked like Florida in every TV show ever.

Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life. I hadn’t seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest—a quest no satyr had ever returned from.

I could smell his fear seeping from his pores, but also his determination. Whatever he was running from, he had found something. He must’ve just come from the beach. Wet sand was caked in his fur. He’d escaped from somewhere. He was trying to get away from…something.

And that something was down the street, lumbering towards him and swatting aside streetlamps as he went. I couldn’t catch his scent for some reason, was it the dream?

Grover stumbled, whimpering in fear. He muttered to himself, “Have to get away. Have to warn them!” He turned a corner only to find himself cornered. I hissed as I watched him try to figure out where to go, hating how I could feel his prey drive ramp up as it started to affect me too. He backed up into a store only for the door to swing open. The sign above the darkened display window read: ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE.

Grover dashed inside. He dove behind a rack of wedding dresses, trembling behind them as the monster's shadow drew closer. I couldn’t smell him. All I smelled was Grover, wet barnyard and wild winds.

The monster passed by the shop, pausing only for a second before moving on.

Silence except for the rain. Grover took a deep breath. Maybe the thing was gone.

Then lightning flashed. The entire front of the store exploded, and a monstrous voice bellowed: “MIIIIINE!”

I sat bolt upright, shivering in my bed. There was no storm here but I could still feel the edges of it to the south, my connection to it slipping away every time I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. There was no monster here either.

I thought I saw a shadow flicker across the glass—a humanlike shape. But then there was a knock on my bedroom door—my mom called: “Percy, you’re going to be late”—and the shadow at the window disappeared.

It must’ve been my imagination. If anything was out there, I would have been able to tell. Besides, it was far too small to be the monster from my dreams anyway.

“Come on, Percy,” my mom called again, “I’m putting the waffles on the table!”

“Coming,” I answered. “Don’t let Tyson start without me!” I got dressed as quickly as I could, letting my more easy fear of Tyson eating all the waffles take over the lingering unease of my nightmare. Before I left my room, though, I made a three-fingered claw over my heart and pushed it outward—an ancient gesture Grover had once taught me for warding off evil.

Whatever the dream had been, I couldn’t do anything about it without help from camp. Chiron would know what to do. And to get to camp, I had to get through my last day of school. For the first time in my life, I’d almost made it an entire year without getting expelled. No weird accidents. No fights (in the classrooms). No teachers turning into monsters and trying to kill me with poisoned cafeteria food or exploding homework.

Tyson was a surprise, but a good one. Afterall, he was waiting patiently at the table for me so we could dig into breakfast.

My mom made blue waffles and blue eggs, a leftover of my old stepfather who told us blue food wasn’t a thing. I think it’s her way of saying anything is possible. Percy can pass seventh grade. Waffles can be blue. Little miracles like that.

As soon as I sat down at the kitchen table, me and Tyson started digging into our plates while my mom washed dishes in the sink. She was dressed in her work uniform—a starry blue skirt and a red-and-white striped blouse she wore to sell candy at Sweet on America. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

The waffles tasted great, but I guess I wasn’t digging in like I usually did. My mom looked over and frowned. “Percy, are you all right?”

“Yeah … fine.”

“Liar,” Tyson huffed into his food and I kicked his shin under the table. “Heard your nightmare.”

Apparently, circle-eyes had really good hearing. Great when I wanted to know if anyone was in the locker room before we got there, but it sucked as Tyson knew things I’d really rather he didn’t. Especially because he decided my mom should know everything.

Then again, she could always tell when something was bothering me anyway. She dried her hands and sat down across from me. “School, or …”

She didn’t need to finish. I knew what she was asking.

“I think Grover’s in trouble,” I said, and I told them about my dream.

“I wouldn’t be too worried, dear,” she said. “Grover is a big satyr now. If there were a problem, I’m sure we would’ve heard from … from camp… .” Her shoulders tensed as she said the word camp.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’ll tell you what. This afternoon we’ll celebrate the end of school. I’ll take you and Tyson to Rockefeller Center—to that skateboard shop you like.”

Tyson perked up but he was still eyeing my mom with a weird expression.

I frowned at her but kept my mouth shut. We were supposed to be packing up for camp tonight, but neither of us liked talking about it in front of Tyson because he tended to cry about me leaving. I was tempted to ask anyway, but just then the kitchen clock chimed the half-hour.

My mom looked almost relieved. “Seven-thirty, dear. You two should go, can’t be late for your train.”

“But—”

“Percy, we’ll talk this afternoon. Go on to school.”

Tyson and I grabbed our backpacks, both giving my mom a hug before we left. Tyson was much happier to accept her fixing his collar than I was, which made me shift uncomfortably.

“Bye, Sally.” The way Tyson said it, it was like he thought he would never see her again.

I had to keep myself from hissing in frustration because I was sure Tyson would take it the wrong way.

As we stepped outside, I glanced at the brownstone building across the street. Just for a second I saw a dark shape in the morning sunlight—a human silhouette against the brick wall, a shadow that belonged to no one.

Then it rippled and vanished.

The back of my head itched like someone was watching me, but I couldn’t smell anything out of the ordinary. Tyson seemed to sense something was up too because he kept looking around until we got to school and stuck pretty close to me. He would have stuck close anyway though, so I’m not sure it meant anything.

I tried to shove aside the feeling and let the anticipation keep me going. I only had four more exams to get through, since we had done half of them the day before, and then there was nothing anyone could do to expel me.

Though this last day was going to be the hardest to get through by far. Take my first class today: English. The whole middle school had read (or listened to in my case) this book called Lord of the Flies, where all these kids get marooned on an island and go psycho. So for our final exam, our teachers sent us into the break yard to spend an hour with no adult supervision to see what would happen.

I know. The teachers at Meriweather liked to think the best of us which was great for my learning, but ended up with situations like the wedgie contest Sloan was doing with his friends and the full tackle basketball the eighth graders were playing.

If I didn’t have to watch Tyson, I might have joined them because it honestly looked really fun since the ref was Naomi Quinn. If someone turned my mother back into an eighth grader, I’m pretty sure they’d be the exact same. Though Naomi might be a little more feral.

She apparently thought I was cute, like a puppy or something, and would ruffle my hair whenever she heard me growl at someone, which I really wasn’t sure what to do with. Not to mention Sloan was terrified of her since she had kicked him between the legs so hard he passed out once. I didn’t see what started it and she’d simply shrugged when I asked. “Probably best not to tell you, little shark,” she’d said. “You might eat him.” Though she seemed to find the idea amusing.

Naomi had one of her friends in a headlock, which was impressive considering he was the tallest of the older kids and she was only 5 feet, when she saw me watching. She raised her free hand to wave, grinning.

I felt my cheeks heat up and turned away to find Tyson. My mind blanked as I saw Sloan heading for Tyson, some new kids hanging back behind him and snickering. I rushed forward to get between them, but I was too late.

Sloan snuck up behind him and tried to give him a wedgie, and Tyson panicked. He swatted Sloan away a little too hard. Sloan flew fifteen feet and got tangled in the little kids’ tire swing.

Shit, I thought and skidded to a halt next to my half brother.

“You freak!” Sloan yelled. “Why don’t you go back to your cardboard box!”

Tyson started sobbing and plopped down on the ground hard enough to shake the playground.

I growled lowly and tried to launch myself towards the bully, ready to tear his throat out with my teeth. I could take a lot of shit from people, but messing with Tyson was off limits and he had been warned. Just because he got a few new friends didn’t mean I wouldn’t bathe in his blood.

“No,” Tyson said through his sobs and grabbed my arm gently. Despite trying my best to keep up with an exercise routine this year, I would have had to be Superman to break even the lightest grip Tyson could do. “Not worth it.”

“Yeah Jackson,” Sloan sneered as the other boys helped pull him out of tire swing. “You’re not worth it.” He and his big ugly friends started laughing. “Just wait till PE, Jackson,” he called when he caught his breath. “You are so dead.”

I tried lunging for him again but Tyson forced me to sit next to him. “I … I am a freak?” he asked me.

“No,” I promised, gritting my teeth. “Matt Sloan is the freak.”

Tyson sniffled. “You are a good brother. Will miss you when you leave.”

“Don’t worry, big guy,” I managed. “Everything’s going to be fine.” He looked like he was going to start crying again so I blurted out the first thing I thought of. “I think mom packed you an extra peanut butter sandwich for lunch to celebrate the last day!”

He sniffled but at least he didn’t start crying again.

Naomi came over once the game was wrapping up and gave Tyson a quick hug. “Sloan thinks he’s important because this is as good as his life is going to get. Just ignore him.” She reached out to ruffle my hair like usual but I hissed at her. I really wasn’t in the mood. She pulled her hand back but didn’t seem offended. “Good luck boys,” she said as she wandered back to her friends.

Tyson looked over at them. “She’s nice.”

“She’s weird,” I agreed and Tyson sighed.

When first period ended, our English teacher, Mr. de Milo, came outside to inspect the carnage. He pronounced that we’d understood Lord of the Flies perfectly. We all passed his course, and we should never, never grow up to be violent people. He might have had a point. We were all already violent.

Our next exam was science. Mrs. Tesla usually had us mixing things like oobleck and doing experiments on what properties it had, so I was sort of excited to see what she was going to let us play with. Instead of the normal set up we had with our ingredients measured and laid out for us, we had a selection of the chemicals and other things we’d been allowed to use throughout the school year displayed at each of our tables.

“Good morning class!” Mrs. Tesla, for once, had her giant mane of hair thrown up into a large bun and the scarf she usually wore, which was from some old british scifi show, was nowhere to be seen. Even her octagonal glasses were replaced by a pair of safety goggles. “Since throughout the year we’ve been talking about making new materials and their properties, I decided I wanted to see how much you actually remembered about each chemical and ingredient we worked with.”

Everyone in the class seemed to shift at once, thinking maybe we were going to get our first written exam of the school year.

“Today, you will need to wear all of the safety gear we’ve been using. Everyone come get a face mask, a pair of goggles, a pair of gloves, and a lab coat. Make sure you are wearing everything because I will be coming around to check!” Her eyes swept over the other students as we all did as told, confused about the change in our teacher. We shouldn’t have worried though because once she was sure we were all safe, she clapped her own gloved hands together and giggled. “Now to have fun!”

Apparently we had to mix chemicals until we succeeded in making something explode, though hopefully like a science fair volcano instead of anything dangerous. That was our exam.

Tyson was my lab partner. His hands were way too big for the tiny vials we were supposed to use. He accidentally knocked a tray of chemicals off the counter and made an orange mushroom cloud in the trash can.

After Mrs. Tesla evacuated the lab and called the hazardous waste removal squad, she praised Tyson and me for being natural chemists. We were the first ones who’d ever aced her exam in under thirty seconds.

“You two are dismissed and can hang out in the cafeteria with anyone else whose out of class. The rest of you will come with me to the other lab!” She bounced on her toes as she went, clearly excited by it all.

Tyson and I ended up at a table by ourselves playing Mythomagic, a card game my cousin Nico had gotten me into during the few visits we were allowed. Apparently their stepmother really enjoyed my mom’s company and felt like she was a safe person for them to be with, though she usually stuck around to ward off monsters.

I wasn’t really all that invested though since I couldn’t get rid of the itchy feeling on my head and my thoughts kept shifting to Grover and how my mom was hiding something. Did something happen at camp? Why wasn’t I packing to leave when I got home?

Eventually it was time for social studies where we were drawing latitude/longitude maps. It was one of the easiest exercises we’d ever done, at least for me. I ended up turning my sheet in early and asking if I could draw something else which my teachet said was fine.

Instead, I ended up I opening my notebook and just stared at the photo inside—my friend Annabeth on vacation in Washington, D.C. She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bandanna. She was standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial with her arms crossed, looking extremely pleased with herself, like she’d personally designed the place.

I missed her. She would be able to help me figure out my dreams about Grover.

I was about to close my notebook when I saw a hand reaching for the picture out of the corner of my eye. I slammed my pencil down towards it, missing the fingers by centimeters and I growled at the culprit. Sloan. I really wished I had better aim. “Fuck off, dude.”

“What’s got your panties in a twist? Got something in there you don’t want anyone else to see?” He snickered and turned back to his buddy. “Don’t know where this guy would get a Playboy though, he can’t even read enough to know what the title says!”

His friends must have been new kids visiting, because they were all wearing those stupid HI! MY NAME IS: tags from the admissions office. They must’ve had a weird sense of humor, too, because they’d all filled in strange names like: MARROW SUCKER, SKULL EATER, and JOE BOB.

I narrowed my eyes at them but I couldn’t pick out their scent in all the teenagers that were spread throughout the room. If they were monsters, they couldn’t be that strong.

“These guys are moving here next year,” Sloan bragged, like that was supposed to scare me. “Good thing I’m gonna put you out of your misery next period.”

The bell rang and I shrugged my bag over my shoulder. “Whatever, Sloan.” His threats weren’t that scary, the worst he could do was try to hit me and at that point it’s self defense. Chiron had tried to tell me I wasn’t allowed to hurt mortals under any circumstances, but my mom disagreed.

“You can’t start fights, baby,” she’d said and her grin was as sharp as mine. “But you can finish them.”

It was time for PE. Our coach had promised us a free-for-all dodgeball game, and Matt Sloan had promised to kill me. This was going to be fun.

The gym uniform at Meriwether is sky blue shorts and tie-dyed T-shirts. I changed as quickly as I could in the locker room because I wanted to get out there, but then Tyson caught my eye and I sighed. He hated changing out in the open. He’d been attacked when he was younger by a Spynx and the scars on his back were mad messy.

Most days I stood guard outside the weight room for him so he could get changed. I’d learned the hard way that if people teased Tyson while he was dressing out, he’d get upset and start ripping the doors off lockers. Not that I minded the damage, but the teachers thought I was a good influence on him and having teachers actually like me wasn’t something I was going to give up.

When we got inside the gym, Coach Nunley was sitting at his little desk reading Sports Illustrated. He reminded me of the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood—which was a shriveled-up mummy—except Coach Nunley moved a lot less and he never billowed green smoke. He gave me the creeps.

Matt Sloan immediately asked if we could be team captains together which got a yes out of the coach without him even looking up from his magazine. Sloan grinned and took charge of the picking. He made me the other team’s captain, but it wasn’t like it mattered when all the jocks and the popular kids moved over to Sloan’s side.

So did the big group of visitors.

Matt Sloan spilled a cage full of balls in the middle of the gym, before looking for the whistle to start the game.

“Scared,” Tyson mumbled. “Smell funny.”

I looked at him, confused. “What smells funny?” All I was getting was teenager sweat and a few other choice things around the school I really didn’t want to pay attention to.

“Them.” Tyson pointed at Sloan’s new friends. “Smell funny.”

Monsters, I thought. The visitors were cracking their knuckles, eyeing us like it was slaughter time. I grinned sharply at them and enjoyed the flicker of confusion on their faces. Riptide was in the locker room since I didn’t have pockets, but I had Tyson and my claws.

Mom wouldn’t like it, she was always nervous about me shifting away from dad’s domain. But in self defense? Oh, I could let loose.

Sloan blew the coach’s whistle and the game began. Sloan’s team ran for the center line, but I was the first one there. I didn’t look at what my team was doing, simply threw the ball as hard as I could at Matt in the middle of the monster pack and watched as he hit the floor with a satisfying thud.

“You wanna fight?” I asked as I tried not to bounce on the balls of my feet, my energy ramping up as I saw the realization in their eyes.

“Desperately, Perseus Jackson,” one of them said and then they were all growing in size. They were no longer kids. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

I let my form flicker for a second, just a second, to reveal what was underneath all my control and I laughed as a few of them actually went to take a step back. “Good.” It had been so long since I was allowed to let loose.

Tyson immediately started herding our teammates away from me and towards the doors. As Mom got more used to the idea of him being a Cirle-eyed One, we realized he was actually only five and she’d told him under no circumstances was he allowed to get into fights with me.

Matt Sloan groaned on the floor. When he lifted his head, he froze. “Whoa! You’re not from Detroit! Who …”

It finally seemed to click for the other kids on his team who started screaming and backing toward the exit, but the giant named Marrow Sucker threw a ball with deadly accuracy. Tyson smacked it away and held the door open.

“Stop them!” the one called Joe Bob growled at his friends. He had a tattoo on his biceps that said: JB luvs Babycakes. “We will not lose our tasty morsels. We Laistrygonians aren’t just playing for your death, Son of the Sea God. We want lunch!”

One of them broke off towards Tyson, but I had to hope he could handle himself. It’s not exactly like bringing all of their attention on my escaping classmates was a good idea.

Joe Bob waved his hand and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared on the center line—but these balls weren’t made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, perforated like wiffle balls with fire bubbling out the holes.

The giant named Skull Eater threw his ball. I dove aside as the fiery bronze comet sailed past my shoulder.

“Are we done talking then? This fight was really starting to get boring,” I said and enjoyed how it made them roar. Lone hunters didn’t go after large prey by themselves. They waited for one of them to wander away from the pod, so by the time the others noticed it was too late for them to reach.

“No one leaves unless you’re out!” Joe Bob roared and I chanced a glance at the exit. Most of the kids were through, but the door seemed to be locked. Tyson was busy grappling with the giant that had tried to stop him. “And you’re not out until we eat you!”

Another fireball came streaking toward me. I dove out of the way but the explosion still blew me head over heels. I found myself sprawled on the gym floor, dazed from smoke, my tie-dyed T-shirt peppered with sizzling holes. Just across the center line, two hungry giants were glaring down at me.

“Flesh!” they bellowed. “Hero flesh for lunch!” They both took aim.

“Percy needs help!” Tyson yelled, and he jumped in front of me just as they threw their balls.

I don’t know where the other giant went.

Somehow Tyson, who was only five years old and had the coordination of a puppy with adult sized paws, had caught two fiery metal balls speeding toward him at a zillion miles an hour. He sent them hurtling back toward their surprised owners, who screamed, “BAAAAAD!” as the bronze spheres exploded against their chests.

The giants disintegrated in twin columns of flame.

“My brothers!” Joe Bob the Cannibal wailed. He flexed his muscles and his Babycakes tattoo rippled. “You will pay for their destruction!”

It was two on—I checked by the doors and grinned at the pile of ash over there, being kicked around by the kids trying to escape—three now. Much better odds.

“Tyson!” I warned.

Another comet hurtled toward us. Tyson just had time to swat it aside. It flew straight over Coach Nunley’s head and landed in the bleachers with a huge KA-BOOM!

“Victory will be ours!” roared Joe Bob the Cannibal. “We will feast on your bones!”

“You’re taking dodgeball way too seriously, man,” I said cheekily and he roared again. I think Tyson would have face palmed if he safely could.

Joe Bob and his remaining friends all picked up dodgeballs. I had to duck and roll again as one flew straight past me and into the locker room. The built-up gas in most boys’ locker rooms must have been enough to cause an explosion, because the flaming dodgeball ignited a huge WHOOOOOOOM!

The wall blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic supporters, and other various nasty personal belongings rained all over the gym.

I turned just in time to see Tyson punch Skull Eater in the face. The giant crumpled next to a matching pile of ash. But the last giant, Joe Bob, had wisely held on to his own ball, waiting for an opportunity. He threw just as Tyson was turning to face him.

“No!” I yelled.

The ball caught Tyson square in the chest. He slid the length of the court and slammed into the back wall, which cracked and partially crumbled on top of him, making a hole right onto Church Street. The bronze ball was smoking at his feet. Tyson tried to pick it up, but he fell back, stunned, into a pile of cinder blocks.

“Well!” Joe Bob gloated. “I’m the last one standing! I’ll have enough meat to bring Babycakes a doggie bag!”

He picked up another ball and aimed it at Tyson.

My vision blurred.

Here’s the thing about siblings that I was slowly starting to learn. Half the time you want to kill them, the other half of the time you wish you never had a sibling. But the second anyone else threatens them, you would kill to protect them.

I don’t know if I held back the changes or if I went full monster, but all I know is I was slicing through the giants calf, dodging the ball he threw my way despite the burn I could feel forming on my shoulder.

Joe Bob laughed even as he dripped ash and fire all over the floor. “You are funny, little demigod. You will go down nicely.”

Suddenly the giant’s body went rigid. His expression changed from gloating to surprise.

Right where his belly button should’ve been, his T-shirt ripped open and he grew something like a horn—no, not a horn—the glowing tip of a blade.

The ball dropped out of his hand. The monster stared down at the knife that had just run him through from behind.

He muttered, “Ow,” and burst into a cloud of green flame, which I figured was going to make Babycakes pretty upset.

Standing in the smoke was Annabeth. Her face was grimy and scratched. She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she’d just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts. She smelled like alleyway and sewer, golden dust crusted in parts of her hair.

Matt Sloan, who’d been sitting there dumbfounded the whole time, finally came to his senses. He blinked at Annabeth, as if he dimly recognized her from my notebook picture. He stood up, pointing at her. “That’s the girl … That’s the girl—”

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat. “And you,” she told him, “lay off my friend.”

I beamed at her when I realized Matt was out cold. So fucking satisfying. “Hey, you made it to the party!”

“I’ve been here all day, Seaweed brain,” she argued with a roll of her eyes but her smile was genuine. “I’ve been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone.”

I paused my search around the chaos of the gym to snap my head around to look at her. “What do you mean all day? I didn’t sense you, you couldn’t have been…” My eyes snapped to her yankee’s cap. “The shadow I saw this morning—that was—” My face felt hot. “Oh my gods, you were looking in my bedroom window?”

“There’s no time to explain!” she snapped, though she looked a little red-faced herself and her scent turned sour with embarrassment and something else I couldn’t identify. “I just didn’t want to—”

The doors to the gym slammed open finally as the headmaster, a collection of teachers, and some police officers started pouring in.

Annabeth looked like she was going to bolt but I grabbed her hand. “Let go of me. I need to get out of here, you two.” She paused and pointed to Tyson, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. Annabeth gave him a look of distaste that I didn’t quite understand. Did she know what he was? “You’d better bring him.”

“What do I do?”

“Improvise!” she hissed as she slammed her yankee’s cap on her head and vanished. I stopped being able to even feel her.

That left me alone in the middle of a flamming gym looking like a bunch of kids had thrown moltov cocktails (wouldn’t have been the first time) and…wait.

“Percy Jackson?” Mr. Bonsai said when he reached me. “What … how …”

Over by the broken wall, Tyson groaned and stood up from the pile of cinder blocks. “Head hurts.”

Matt Sloan was starting to come around, but I wasn’t going to let him blame this on me. Even if he didn’t know, he’d let those giants into our school and he’d led them straight to Tyson and me.

I summoned tears like an expert and immediately started trying to wipe them away like I didn’t want the headmaster to see. “The…the new kids…they…”

Mr. Bonsai bent a knee to get more at my eye level and I hated how much like a kid it made me feel but it meant the adults were looking less like they wanted me arrested so… “What happened?”

“They trashed the place! Sloan said they were his friends but then when we tried playing dodgeball they got really mean and started throwing the balls at everyone really hard and then they grabbed their bags and they had moltov cocktails! I think they were part of a gang!”

Sloan started shaking his head, turning red in the face. “That’s not true!”

Tyson started crying at the perfect moment.

“We’ll talk about this more later,” Mr. Bonsai promised. “If you can find your clothes, we’ll get you to one of the ambulances.”

I didn’t even realize they could see the burn on my shoulder but I just nodded obediently and snagged my jeans off the floor, happy to have Riptide back.

Sloan lunged at me. “You liar!”

I dodged quickly, letting fear seep into my expression. I reached for Tyson, grabbing his arm before bolting for the gaping hole in the side of the building.

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #unhinged series #feral percy jackson #feral demigods #feral percy #all apart of something's game

1 note · View note