Chapter Text
Percy woke up to Tartarus.
It was dark and chilling, but not cold enough that he felt like he was back in the In-Between—at least, that was what Themis called it. But Percy stood there, surrounded by the cavernous walls of Tartarus, and looking into the pit.
Dang. He really hated having nightmares about Kronos.
Then, a deep, grumbling voice echoed: Perseus Jackson. It sent a shiver down his spine, hearing Kronos again. But at the same time he thought: gross. You dare defy the wish of—
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Percy said. Then, “Whoa. I can talk. Cool.”
In the In-Between, he couldn’t use his mouth at all. He had to think angry thoughts at Themis, and even then she hardly ever answered him.
The cavern shook. The boy is mine. Do you really think you can change him? You?
Percy shrugged. “I dunno. I’m kind of against the whole ‘child soldier’ thing.”
I am going to rise again. A piece of rock fell into the darkness. You will either join me or die.
“Uh,” Percy started. He scratched the back of his neck. “Could you not, like, do that? If we combine our strengths I’m sure the gods would give you a TV down there or something.”
Kronos was a scary guy, sure, but Percy was used to his Luke Form. Now, with him being stuck in the pit and only tied to a voice, it felt like an actual dream. Which it, technically, was. But Percy knew, deep down, somewhere in there, that he was afraid of Kronos. Well—who wasn’t? The guy was a creep.
And he had killed Percy in his first life. That was also there, too.
The cavern shook again, a deep rumble vibrating his feet. I know who you are, Perseus. Kronos sounded really angry this time. I see how your mortal form splits. You are chasing the impossible—once you realize that, you will have no choice but to join me.
Suddenly, a deep, searing pain erupted in Percy’s side. Like he was being sliced apart, like the scythe was—
He gasped awake to the fraying ceiling of the Hermes cabin.
Percy snuck out again to the sea. He was beginning to think that he was making a bad habit out of it, but he couldn’t help himself. He felt calmer by the water. And right now he really needed to feel calmer.
He sat himself in the sand—barefoot again apparently—and inhaled deep. He could try meditating. Percy had never been the type of guy who meditated, but he could try. Sort of. Maybe.
His side ached again, and he swallowed down a pool of dread. He lifted his shirt. Underneath, the scar had stretched from just his left side to half of his stomach and back. It looked like he was trying to do an oak tree cosplay. Would the nymphs find that offensive?
Focus—it didn’t make any sense why the scar had grown, and especially after that dream…
Percy let his shirt go. He brought out his hands and placed his palms on his eyes.
Immediately, he was greeted with the In Between. His hands floated aimlessly with his body, and his breath came out in sparse plumes of fog. The cold was worse here than in Tartarus. It made him relax, just a bit.
Themis? he thought. Or, at least, tried to think. Percy’s brain felt…weird.
The void hummed. There you are, Themis said. I have some bad news.
Does it have anything to do with how my scar grew like twenty feet? Percy tried to listen for his heartbeat. He couldn’t hear anything. I thought I was disconnected from the before.
You are supposed to be, Themis said. But Kronos’ powers are wild and misshapen. I must admit—when his scythe cut you, it wasn’t just past your side.
Percy felt a cold blast seep into his lungs. He breathed in again. Don’t tell me he cut me in half. I hate halves.
Unfortunately, that is the case. He severed your soul from your body. His host—Luke, as you call him—reformed you before it was too late. But he still got you.
So, what? I’m splitting into atoms or something?
No. Your body is reverting back to the before. You are slowly losing your soul—
Wait, wait, wait. Percy tried to force his body to turn around, or something, so he could try and see Themis. Nothing. Are you telling me I’m dying?
You are slowly losing your soul, she said.
What happens after I lose my soul?
There is no after.
A prick came from his eye as a frozen tear broke off. It floated into the vacuum. Away from Percy.
I’m dying, he thought. After everything?
After everything, Themis admitted. You can try to slow it.
With what? The Fleece, or something? What is that going to do? Percy couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. His lips felt numb, and his eyes stung. I thought…I thought I was brought here to make things different.
You already have. The cold picked up. A wave crashed against his leg. That is why our connection is splitting. You’re deviating from where I brought you.
But I’m—
This is the last time we speak, Perseus. Remember the justice you seek. Life is more than the trivial matters we set it out to be. Make it more.
Themis—he started—Themis, don’t. Please.
The In-Between disappeared.
If there was a way to explain what it felt like knowing you were going to die, Percy would rate it zero out of anything that ever existed. After exiting, he laid down on the sand and listened to the waves. The wind picked up and blew sand in his shirt and he didn’t move.
Was this how Luke felt, after? It felt terrible. Like, actually terrible. Percy wanted nothing more than to just lay there forever. How long would it take for the curse to catch up with him? Days, months, years? Did he even have enough time to make it back to the Battle? Did he even…
“This is weird,” Luke said from behind him.
Percy hummed, eyes still trained on the clouds. One of them looked like Hades’ helm.
Luke sat down next to him. He leaned forward a bit and into Percy’s field of vision. Percy glanced at him. “What?”
“It’s five in the morning,” Luke said.
“I’m an early riser.” Percy looked back to the clouds.
Luke gave him an unimpressed look. “You slept in till two yesterday.”
“Puberty.” Percy’s face scrunched up. “Ew, actually. I take that back. Don’t ever tell anyone I said that.”
Luke stretched out a hand. “I’ll tell Mr. D unless you talk to me.”
Percy took his hand. “You know, there’s a thing called blackmail,” he said. Luke lifted him up to a sitting position and dusted off grains of sand from his back. “Really illegal. Especially against this guy named Percy Jackson.”
“Haven’t heard of him,” Luke said, smiling slightly.
Percy brought his knees to his chest. His toes curled in the sand, dry from the dust and cracked from the cold. He looked away. It still felt like he was fifteen and facing the prophecy. But he wasn’t fifteen anymore, he was twelve, and he wasn’t on the ship. He was at camp, and Luke was still sitting next to him, waiting.
Percy picked a hangnail off his thumb. “Kronos,” he quietly said. Luke gave a half-stifled flinch at the time. Great work, Percy. Superb. “Sorry.”
Luke’s shoulders tensed. Then they fell. “Nightmare?”
Percy slowly nodded. “He’s mad about the whole…” He waved his hand around. “Shebang. You know?” Then he dropped his hand, and leaned himself forward a bit. The water was careening toward them. He raised his palm, and it receded. “Old man.”
Luke groaned, shuffling his hands to his face. He shook his hair. “Percy, look, you’re just a kid. You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he said. “The gods put so much pressure on us, and for what?”
“I know what you’re going to say.” Percy turned to him.
Luke left his hands in his ruffled hair. His face was red. “We’re just mules.”
Percy rolled his shoulders. “You worked for Mr. I Eat My Children just a few days ago. You were a mule,” he said. Luke looked away. “Kronos is mad. Sure, whatever. I’ll just ignore him.”
“You can’t ignore him,” Luke quietly said. He let go of his hair.
Percy shrugged. “Then I’ll annoy him until he kills himself or something, I dunno.”
Luke gave him a side glare. Honestly, after years of having to deal with his murderous version, it wasn’t too bad. “You can’t joke about this stuff.”
“I’m not joking around,” Percy said, lightly knocking Luke’s shoulder with his own. “I can totally see it happening. The future is wide…vast…and Kronos hates preteens.”
Gross. He hated calling himself a preteen. He’d literally worked so hard to get to his almost sixteen stage. A thought suddenly struck him—if he’d survived, would the prophecy have…?
“I guess.” Luke sighed, looking as weary as he had the nights before. At least he wasn’t getting nightmares anymore. “Let’s just get back to camp before roll.”
Luke stood, and gave out his hand. Percy took it.
“You know, I think we should ban archery for you for safety reasons,” Annabeth suddenly said.
Percy hadn’t even known she was there, and the arrow he had just slotted released accidentally. It flew past Luke and some other campers before landing somewhere in the distance. He blinked and turned to her.
She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“You made me miss,” he said. Percy reached for another arrow.
Annabeth’s shoulders fell in surprise. “What were you even aiming for?”
He loaded his bow, raised his shoulder; let the string dig into his finger. He released it. It blew past him, and hit—the tree ten feet away. Dang. So close.
Percy sighed. He turned to her again. “I was trying to hit the post.”
“The one right in front of you?” Annabeth tilted her head. “Are you cursed or something?”
Percy frowned. “Is this because I punched you?”
Luke’s head wheeled around. He walked up to Percy and Annabeth and leaned against the fence. He raised an eyebrow. “You punched Annabeth?” he asked. Percy jolted.
“Maybe,” he said. Annabeth folded her arms together. “I mean, yeah. It was an accident, though. Hero reflexes.” She narrowed her gaze. “Okay, not hero reflexes, but…you know. Accident.”
Luke turned to Annabeth. “He landed a punch on you? You?”
Annabeth looked affronted. She pulled at a strand of hair. “I didn’t see it coming,” she muttered.
Percy was a little bit reminded about all the times he and Annabeth had talked about things like this—the self-doubt, the need to show off. He’d found her by the water a lot, head in her knees. Sometimes it was about Luke, other times it wasn’t. Sometimes she got angry and fought with him, sometimes she sat there and he sat there and there was the sea.
To him, Annabeth could gloat about anything and she’d be right. But that was him then, and this was him, now, before everything. Annabeth didn’t care about him, or at least, she only cared about him in the hope that he would be her first quest.
Percy looked away. “I bet you’re a better shot, though,” he said. Annabeth turned to him. He looked up. “Beat my high score.”
Something flashed beneath her face, but then it washed away. She gave him a look of a fiery I’m Gonna Beat Your Ass. Annabeth pulled out an arrow, raised her shoulder, and lodged it into the lock. She pulled back, stared straight, and released.
It hit the bullseye. Percy honestly wasn’t impressed. He’d seen Annabeth do it thousands of times by now. But he still grinned and gave an honest: “Dang. Thought I had it in the bag.” Because that was then, and this was now, and Annabeth didn’t know Percy as he did her. It was weird, but everything always was around him.
Sparring with Luke was like trying to dodge a truck that was speeding towards you. Percy felt frozen in the moment, but knew he could just run away. But he was still trying to remind himself that Luke was Luke, and Luke was…Luke.
“Square your shoulders,” Luke said to him, fingers gripping the hilt of his sword.
Percy huffed, fixing his position. It was weird trying to use a sword that wasn’t Riptide. He couldn’t wait to get it back. “You know most kids don’t sword fight during summer camps?”
Luke grinned and sped forward. “Good thing you aren’t most kids—!” His sword clashed against Percy’s, and they went back and forth parrying.
The fight on The Princess Andromeda was still fresh in the back of his mind, but Percy was trying his hardest to forget about it. Each time Luke swung at him, he thought: this is it. And he would try to look around for Beckendorf, only to find that he was in the training grounds at camp and there wasn’t a bomb strapped to the engines beneath him. It was hard to realize where he was.
Luke broke off the still, leaping forward. Percy feigned to the side, then twisted—
“Legs,” Luke suddenly said. He blocked Percy’s jab. “Tighter. Widen your stance.”
Percy avoided a narrow slash. “Yes, mom,” he said. Luke drove another cut at him—Gods! Jerk.
“Now we see the Lukatacious in his natural habitat—!” Percy dodged and brought up his sword to parry. He was going to melt or something by the time this was over. “Abusing children—his—specialty!” He pushed forward, slashed at Luke; missed.
Luke parried again. Percy went to his blind spot, only for Luke to feign to the side. He fell to the ground, dirt mushing with his sweaty skin.
He banged a fist on the soil. “Almost!” he said.
“Keep telling yourself that,” Luke snarked, grinning.
Percy looked up and glared at him. “I’m going to find the Fates and cut your string.”
“Shaking in my boots.” Luke sheathed his sword. He held out a hand. “Save the threats for capture the flag.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Capture the flag was tonight. Like, that capture the flag. Claiming time, capture the flag. Percy seriously did not want to get his head forced down a toilet again. But, also, he still had dreams where he got the trident above his head, and something bad happened. Sometimes it was something darker, where the water turned dark and the clouds rumbled. Other times it was him looking up only to find Zeus’ symbol, and have people bow down to him saying: Percy Jackson, son of Zeus—ew, ew, ew. That was his worst nightmare.
But it being capture the flag also meant that he was going on the quest soon. It might be later, now, since Luke wasn’t going to release that hellhound. But it being any later would worsen the situation between his dad and his uncles, so maybe he should go earlier anyway? What would it take to convince Chiron to let him out quicker?
Horse food? Did Chiron eat horse food? Could Percy bait him with carrots and apples like with Blackjack? That felt wrong. Did Percy have a connection with Chiron because of his horse-friendship-thing? Horse-friendship-ability? Best-friend-ifier?
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Don’t leave me hanging here.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Percy mumbled, clasping hands with Luke and letting him pull him up. “I was thinking about horses.”
“Horses?” Luke grabbed the sword from Percy.
He nodded, following Luke to the armory as they started walking. Horses. “They’re all so strange,” he answered. “Intriguing.”
Luke placed the sword in the holder. He folded his arms together and looked back at Percy. “Don’t tell me this is a sight thing where horses are going to take over the world or something,” he slowly said. Then, with his eyes squinted, almost like a statement, “Are horses going to take over the world.”
Percy puffed up his cheeks. Then it blew the air out, slowly, eyes still on the forest. The forest. Where capture the flag was going to happen. Ugh. “Sure,” he said, absentmindedly. “We can stop it if we get Blackjack.”
“Blackjack?”
“Black pegasus.” If Percy forced Luke with him on the quest, what would happen? “Cool guy.”
Luke put a finger to his chin. He looked old doing that. “There was this pegasus I knew about from the markets…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Percy mumbled. “Get Blackjack and then we can talk about the horsepocolypse.”
If he found out a way to convince Chiron to let him on the quest early, bring Grover, Annabeth, and Luke…He might actually have a chance. A chance at, like, being happy or whatever. He could totally finish the quest. Probably. After changing so much already, he actually wasn’t sure.
What was that phrase again? When you went back in time and stepped on a butterfly?
“Let’s get going,” Percy suddenly said. He could see dark clouds forming on the horizon. “I’m hungry.”
Percy forgot how much he missed and hated capture the flag. It was one of those things during the early start of the war where it wasn’t worth it to do anything not needed, so he always found himself wanting to play a quick game. Running through the woods and passing streams and creaks and abodes—it just all felt surreal. He seriously missed it when they stopped having it.
But now it was on the hateful side because Percy knew how he was with these things. He got overconfident, ran the wrong way, and then either got his face stuck in a toilet or an arrow lodged above his head. This game was going to be the same. Plus, he knew what was going to happen afterward. He really didn’t want to get claimed. He hated getting claimed.
After getting claimed it was like God’s worst version of Hard Mode. Or maybe Extreme Mode. Except his game kept lagging and all the monsters were just his middle school math teachers. And cheerleaders. Gods, he hated the cheerleaders.
Annabeth was leading this attack—of course—and kept going on about roles and duty, and things like that. When she got to Percy, she shrugged and had her head nod side to side, back and forth.
“Stay out of trouble,” she finally said. “Don’t mess this up for us.”
“Wrong choice. I’m an amazing fighter.” Percy nodded.
Luke shook his head rigorously. “Great choice, Annabeth. Really great choice.”
“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to get one-upped by me,” Percy said, sniffing. Grover bleated.
“Guys,” he said, voice choppy. “Time to go.”
Percy went and told Grover to find the best tree to hide in. Then he glared at Luke in one final act of defiance, and ran away into the woods.
Being in the forest again felt odd. Super odd. Like, deja-vu odd, but not the good type of deja-vu. The type where you have to sit down and go through your memory files, or something. The one where you doubted yourself, type of odd. It was weird.
Honestly, Percy felt weird. Running through the woods, he just…felt bad. He was actually alone from here on out, no more Themis to talk to. He was cut off from the before. From his original life.
And there was the fact that he was dying. And the fact that he didn’t know when he was going to die.
Quiet, quiet, quiet, he told himself. A branch nicked his ankle. Stop thinking. No more thoughts. Thoughts: bad.
He—
Move—something told him. The marks on his hands burned. Percy swerved to the side, narrowly missing the slash from Clarisse’s spear.
Percy’s leg hit a root, and he almost fell to the ground. Gods, that would’ve been super embarrassing. He raised the hilt. Clarisse looked about ready to make Percy-Kabob.
“You!” she cried. He forgot how angry she had been before everything. When he was younger, you know, he thought she was an ass. Now after everything, he still sort of thought she was an ass, but one that was his friend. Or, sort of friend.
Percy lowered his sword just a bit. He grimaced. “Hey, Clarisse. Don’t think we’ve met yet,” he said, dodging another jab from Laimer the First. “I’m Percy Jackson—uhm ”—one of the other Ares kids blocked him off with a sword—“unclaimed and stuff. You’re—Ares, right? Cool guy.”
Clarisse went forward again, and this time Percy used his shield—he hated shields so much, but was sort of happy he brought it with him, now—to ward the attack off. She grunted. “You ‘killed’ the minotaur,” she started, like the minotaur hadn’t been killed and was actually at some tea party or—shoot! Dodge, Percy! “And then got chosen to be Themis’ oracle? Puh-lease.”
Percy shrugged, missing a narrow swipe from someone’s sword. “What can I say? I’m irresistible.” He brought up his shield again to block off Clarisse’s attack. “You know—flag’s the other way!”
He was doing pretty fine, then. Honestly. Sort of. Percy wasn’t used to being so short, and also not having the weight of Riptide to fight with. He was pretty rusty. The creek was almost right behind him, though. He didn’t technically need it to fight everyone off, but…
There was that pull in his gut again. He slashed at another Ares kid and tried to ignore it. In the distance, he could hear the faint start of cheers and rumbling—like a group was running toward them. The winning side.
Clarisse scowled. She brought up her spear again, and this time it sparked. Shit. Percy looked behind him, the water was close enough now, that—a burst of electricity bounced forward, and Percy tried to dodge; raised his hand—
A wave careened in front of him, splashing the other kids and stopping the shock. Clarisse jumped backward as the water flew the other kids off their feet. They groaned, now wet and dripping.
Percy’s face dropped, and so did the wave. “Oops,” he muttered.
Just as the Athena side ran towards them, Percy tripped on a root and fell into the stream. He had enough brainpower to force the water off his clothes and hair. So when he looked up at the winning team, and at all the damp kids surrounding him, and at Clarisse’s furious and shocked face; he was sitting there, in the water, dry and completely healed.
Not completely. His side burned for a moment. Percy watched as Luke ran with the flag, his eyes flickered over to Percy, then—
A dark, deep blue overtook the forest. Percy didn’t have to look up to know what just happened. But he did. Above him, shining in all its stupid dumb glory, was his father’s trident. Percy had just been claimed.
Shit, he thought. Then, he added on, thanks, Dad.
After Chiron did his whole speech, he led Percy away from everyone else and into the Big House. The moon shone behind the long, draping curtains—blue, and some green, but Percy remembered helping change them out when Tantalus was in charge. Well, helping was sort of not true. He was forced. But the moon shone between the slits of the cloth, and candles were lit throughout the house. Chiron didn’t turn on any of the lights when they walked in for some reason.
Percy sat himself on the tattered couch. He hooked a finger through some of the fraying threads; wrapped it around his index, around and around, as Chiron spoke.
“Percy, now…I know this is a lot to handle,” Chiron slowly started. “Being a child of the Big Three, well…”
“It’s not allowed, I know.” Percy undid the twist of thread. He looked up. “The Bolt was stolen, Zeus is mad, Hades’ Helm is gone, yada yada. They think it’s my fault because dad just claimed me.”
Chiron blinked. “Yes, that is true. But—”
“Chiron, I need you to put me on the quest now.”
Chiron leaned forward, face suddenly pale. He cleared his throat and looked aside. “Percy, you’re not ready yet. You would have to travel to Los Angeles and go into the Underworld. Your father—”
“Claimed me for a reason,” Percy said. His gut twinged at that. He did. “Let me talk to the Oracle. Please.”
Chiron gave him one last, uncertain look. Then he sighed, sobered up, and beckoned Percy upstairs.
Percy didn’t like the Oracle. He didn’t think he ever did. She was scary and, honestly, snappy at best. He was also kind of a little bit still sore when he chose to give the quest to Zoë rather than him. As he climbed up the ladder, he tried to ignore the pit in his stomach. Hopefully, this time, Zoë wouldn’t…
He reached the top of the attic, pushing himself onto the floor. Dust gathered onto the palms of his hands. Percy didn’t even have time to brush it off before she started talking.
The Oracle’s body shook, and outward came a gust of weird, green smoke. He tensed as he slowly stood. She was still super creepy.
Instead of Gabe showing up, a woman did. She had a simple veil covering most of her hair, which was dark and curly, and dark, gaping eyes. She looked at him and smiled.
“Perseus Jackson,” she said, voice echoing. Percy realized late that it was Themis. “Welcome.”
Percy blinked, slowly. Then he jumped. “Themis?” he sort of shouted. Then he lowered his voice, “Themis? Is that really you?”
Themis smiled sweetly. “Almost. This is a projection of my self from my oracle. I am here to tell you of your prophecy.”
“And?” he asked, shoulders dropping.
Themis looked to the side as if thinking over her options. She looked back to Percy. “You don’t have one.”
Percy froze. Don’t have one? But he had to have one to go on a quest. “But I—”
“The Oracle…” Themis trailed off. Then, “Your situation has thrown off the trajectory of our prophecies. Space needs time to recuperate and let us use it.” She looked down, her veil covering most of her face. “Unfortunately, that means that the Oracle will no longer be giving out prophecies for an indefinite amount of time.”
“So, no more quests?” Percy asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Shit.
“For the time being.” Themis nodded. “Once the stars realign, the demigods will be able to resume. It will not harm anyone, do not worry. Your quest is the only one we are allowing.”
Percy went to scratch the back of his neck but found his hands were still covered in dust. He shook them off. “Why me?” he asked.
Themis hummed. “Because you have a limited amount of time. And I have already given so much for your justice to be served.”
Limited. Right. Because that’s what it was. Percy looked away. “Themis, about that…”
“No matter. You must go on your quest within the day,” she said. “Take those to trust; follow the course; deviate, if need be; but remember: that which lies ahead can still be unknown to he who sees through the darkness.”
“Was that a prophecy?” Percy asked, squinting.
Themis smiled one last time. It looked… “Sure,” she answered. Then her face dissipated into the smoke, and the smoke disappeared back into the mouth of the Oracle.
Percy told Chiron the sort of prophecy part and then told him that the Oracle was going on strike for a bit of time. He sat there, stroked his beard, and looked super wistful. Wistful or constipated? Serious questions.
Chiron looked back at him. “Did she tell you anything else?”
Percy’s side itched. “No,” he said. Like a liar.
Chiron nodded. “I see,” he said. “I suppose that is it, then. You should go pick the two you would like on your quest.”
Percy bit the inside of his cheek. “I want Grover and Annabeth.”
If Chiron was surprised, he didn’t show it. He nodded again—
“And Luke,” Percy added.
Chiron blinked. “Percy, you may not know this, but three is a sacred number. Having more than that is…Well, in all honesty, it is bad luck.”
“I know.” Percy tore off a hangnail. Ouch. “I want Luke on it, though. Five’s a crowd. No, seven. Seven’s a crowd.” He needed to get Nico and Bianca out before anything bad happened. Eugh, six people on a quest was like having a neon sign saying: kill me, please!
Chiron paused for a second, his mouth between opening and not. He eventually succumbed, sighing and looking down. “I understand,” he said. “If you believe three companions will greaten your quest, do so. But, please, Percy, do be vigilant.”
Percy grinned. Success. He was, like, Apollo-level in charm. Should he start reading haikus during his quests? “Thanks, Chiron,” he said. “You won’t regret it.”
Chiron looked like he was already ready for his centaur vacation in Miami. “I fear that I already do.”
Percy thanked Chiron again before running out of the Big House. They needed to seriously pick up the pace for this quest if he wanted to figure out a way to slow the curse down. He could try to get the Fleece, but that would only slow it down temporarily. Plus, they didn’t have enough time for that, right now.
If he went and got the Fleece right after he got the bolt…
Luke waved him down, Annabeth and Grover right beside him. Grover had hands above his stomach—because he got pains whenever he was really nervous—and Annabeth looked. Normal. Her eyebrow twitched, though, so Percy took that as a sign that she actually was freaking out. Awesome.
“Percy!” Luke called out. “How’d it go?”
Percy brought out his hands in a I’m Going To Say Something Really Really Crazy way. They raised their eyebrows at him. “Okay, we need to go get Zeus’ Bolt back and also Hades’ Helm. We have, like, a week, max.”
“‘We’?” Luke repeated.
Percy nodded. “All four of us. You, me, Grover, Annabeth. I chose you guys for my quest.” Annabeth’s face brightened, if only by a miniscule amount. Grover’s eyes widened and darted to Luke’s own confused ones.
“Uh, dude?” Grover started, leg twitching. “You’re only supposed to have three people on a quest.”
“Quest-smeche.” Percy waved around a hand flippantly. “I chose you guys. We have to leave by tonight. Ready?”
Luke looked back at him. “We need to talk.”
“You’ll do fine,” Percy said.
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Right,” he said. “Shoreline, now.”
Gods, everyone was so uptight here. Blegh.
“Percy, you have to take me off,” Luke said. He had his nail in between his teeth. “This isn’t…My last quest…The Bolt…”
Percy watched him, still. “I’m not taking you off the quest,” he said.
Luke froze and turned to him. He scowled. “You have to. Percy—you might not know this, but I—” he stopped, face dropping.
Percy looked away. “I know what you did.”
“Then you know that I—I can’t join your quest. I’m not…If they found out—”
“They are going to find out,” Percy said. Luke jolted and looked up. There was something hard in his gaze. Something rabid. “But they’re going to find out because you’re going to tell them. ”
“What?” Luke blinked.
“Let’s get the Bolt and the Helm. We can tell them everything after we go to Olympus,” Percy said. “They’ll understand.”
“I think you’re forgetting how new you are to all this—”
Percy raised his hand and turned it over. A cold stare from the oracle’s eye gazed at Luke. He flinched. “Right. New.” He dropped his hand. “Look. Luke, they’re going to find out either way. Let’s do it the way where you aren’t dead and they start worrying about the old guy.”
Luke locked eyes with him. “He would kill you if he knew you said that.”
“So what?” Percy automatically said. Luke’s brows furrowed. “Let him do whatever. Whatever. I don’t care.”
Luke blinked and nodded, slowly. He inched forward just a bit. “Are you…” he started, then, “Oracle?”
Percy folded his arms together and glared at the sand. A crab crawled across his sandals. “It’s nothing,” he said. “Just. Future stuff.”
Luke raised an eyebrow. “Bad future stuff?”
Percy went silent. “Maybe,” he said.
“Bad for you?” Luke asked.
“Maybe,” Percy said, slower this time. He waved Luke away. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We gotta get out of camp tonight.”
Luke stared at him for a long moment. He sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Only if you let me drive.”