Chapter Text
Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.
If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever lie your mum or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.
Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.
If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.
But if you recognise yourself in these pages – if you feel something stirring inside – stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
***
After the turn of the century, something in the world shifted. Mortals felt it, demigods felt it, gods felt it, Perseus Jackson felt it. Something was changing. The nineteenth century was going to be an interesting one.
The fates carefully pulled a new length of string to add to their long-knitted piece. They each let a smile fall onto their faces.
***
Until a few months ago Percy was happily employed at the taxi rank in Chelsea, close to the hospital. Well, 'happily' is a stretch, but he was employed.
His life started to go downhill on a rainy day in May. He had spent the whole day mopping out carriages and clearing windows of mud. He was wet, tired, and very ready to collect his pay and start home (hopefully before his stepfather returned from the gambling dens). But, alas, he still had three hours of work to slave through.
The day was falling into the realm of torture. Most workdays were for Percy. Especially when Benedict Dodds was working the ranks.
Mr Dodds was a mutually despised man on the ranks. He had a short, flaming red beard to match his temper and hands as big as saucers that hurt as bad as a cane (Percy can attest) and had horses in such a bad way, their pain seemed to permeate into Percy’s own mind. A part of Percy hoped they would die, just to put them out of their misery.
Working on the ranks wasn’t all bad, though. When the local priest, Father Brunner, would come by, he would always bring Percy some fresh bread and a farthing or two if he was lucky. Not only was he kind, but his presence would also stave off Dodds turning to violence.
Father Brunner was a middle-aged man who used an odd chair with wheels to get around, Percy had only seen something like it from people leaving the hospital a handful of times. (Percy wanted to ask about it, but he was always too scared to offend). The priest had thinned hair and a scruffy beard. You wouldn’t expect it, but he had some rather thrilling stories to tell about his life, but by far his favourite thing was teaching Percy the myths of ancient Greece. It was the strangest of things Percy thought, but he benefited so greatly from Brunner's kindness that he overlooked this small oddity.
The other bright spot working the taxi ranks was Grover. He was, for want of a better word, an urchin. From what Percy had gathered, Grover's parents had thrown him out due to the abnormal way in which he walked. This in turn made running impossible for him. This fact made him an easy target. Percy tried his best to protect Grover, he would often give Grover half his lunch and would chase off some of the older kids who liked finding a fight. But they weren’t brave or strong enough to go after anyone who could fight back.
The worst of these kids was Nancy Bobofit. She would steal the food straight out of Grover's hands and would run off with whatever stick Grover was using at the time to help him walk. The worst part about Nancy, though, was how much Mr Dodds doted on her. Percy was fairly certain Dodds was friends with her parents or was just using it as an excuse to beat Percy. If Percy so much as gave Nancy a foul look and Mr Dodds saw, Percy would be slapped across the face before he even had time to think.
It was one of the days both Nancy and Mr Dodds were around the ranks.
Percy had just finished lunch with Grover when Nancy threw a rock at the back of Grover's head. It was obvious that Grover was trying his best to push through the pain, but tears started to well in his eyes.
“I’m going to kill her,” Percy mumbled.
Grover tried to calm Percy down. "Percy, no, I’m used to it. Don’t get yourself in trouble for my sake.”
Another rock hit Grover in the back of the head, forcing a small squeak of pain from his lips. Percy started to get up, but Grover pulled him back down. Percy was huffing in anger, his hands gathered into fists.
"Percy, please do not. Mr Dodds is just itching for an excuse not to pay you, and if he tells your pa…” Grover trailed off, knowing what a sensitive subject Percy’s stepfather was.
“Don’t talk about my stepfather.” Percy growled.
"Sorry, Percy, but you know I’m correct. You’re on thin ice already.”
Percy tried to calm down, but a storm brewed in his gut, threatening to pour out.
Nancy stood with a rock in her hand, aiming for Grover.
A surge of power ran through Percy as he stepped out into the rain, his hands balled into fists as he glared Nancy down.
He took a few steps towards Nancy, not bothered by the rain soaking through his hair and coat. Part of him knew that retaliating against Nancy wasn’t going to do him any good, but his anger was too far out of his control.
Another step towards Nancy, she aimed her rock at Percy. Before the rock even started to leave her hand, a deep-rooted power pulled from somewhere deep inside Percy. It felt weird but oddly familiar. Like an old friend calling at your home for the first time in years. A gentle warmth running dangerously through his veins.
Percy welcomed the power. Allowing it to flow through him, run around his body and take control.
He allowed his eyes to fall shut, basking in the glory of the warmth running rampage in his mind.
A scream wrenched Percy from his revelry.
It all happened so quickly, far beyond Percy’s control or comprehension.
One second Nacy was standing gearing in front of him jeering, and the next she was spluttering and yelling in a puddle of water.
“You pushed me!” Nacy screamed. “Jackson pushed me!”
Percy stumbled further from her. No, he hadn’t? He hadn’t even touched her!
Nancy just kept screaming and shouting as she extracted herself from the puddle water. Percy prayed to God that Dodds was out on a job.
But, no. Of course he wasn’t. God never allowed Percy that kind of luck.
“What did you do, boy?” Dodds barked as he swung down from his coach.
Percy prayed silently, Please God, don’t let him hurt me. What sins have I committed that deserve this? Please be a generous Lord. Allow me this mercy.
Dodds advanced towards Percy. With every step the foul man took towards him, Percy became more and more certain his prayers had not been answered.
Percy turned to his last resort tactic and tried to feign innocence. He was almost certain Dodds had heard Nancy’s yells, but he was willing to take the chance to test if he could get away with it. “I-I was cleaning Morgan’s coach, sir.”
Mr Dodds swung his hand across Percy’s face, making his cheek scream in pain. “Don’t you dare lie to me, boy!” Mr Dodds spat in Percy’s face. “Morgan never lets anyone near his coach.”
Percy held his burning cheek. Oh right. I’m in deep shit now. Percy thought to himself.
“Come with me. Your father will be right disappointed to hear about this, but maybe you’ll get off lighter if you’ve already received some discipline.”
Dodds started to walk away from the taxi rank, but Percy’s body refused to move.
“I said follow me, Jackson", Mr Dodds grumbled, fire in his voice.
Percy tried to get his body to move, but his feet were rooted to the ground.
Dodds slapped Percy again. When Percy still wouldn’t move, he roughly wrenched Percy’s ear. Percy stumbled after Dodds, trying to wrestle his ear free from the unforgiving grip.
Dodds pushed Percy against the wall of the ally. The forceful push knocked the air out of his lungs, leaving Percy gasping for air.
“You’ve been causing me some problems, Jackson.” Dodds snarled.
Percy gathered himself. He had seen Dodds angry before, but the fire in his eyes felt like it was burning his skin. Dodds was beyond anger. Percy desperately racked his brain for some way to deescalate the situation. He couldn’t let Gabriel find out about what he did. So he did the safe thing, politeness. “Yes sir.”
Dodds wrenched Percy’s head up by his chin. “I don’t know why we’ve been paying you. You’re a useless young boy. Just like your whore mother.”
Percy tried to wriggle free from Dodds’s iron grip. “Don’t call my ma that.”
Slap! Percy struggled harder against the hands pinning him down as pain exploded across his face. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t say. You’re just a bastard. A stain on your family!” Little bits of Dodds' spit flew into Percy's eyes and mouth.
Every instinct in Percy’s body was screaming at him to run, to get away. But he was trapped. All he could do was struggle and splutter.
“Don’t be mistaken, boy. We know what you are, Perseus Jackson. Confess and you will suffer less.”
Suffer less? What? Percy’s head was spinning. What was Mr Dodds talking about? Who’s we?
“I don’t understand!” Percy exclaimed, scratching at Dodds's arms.
“Your time is up, Jackson.” Dodds released him. Percy crumpled to the ground.
A ripple ran through the ally. Dodd’s eyes began to glow hot as coals. His fingers stretched into talons. His large overcoat melted into leathery wings, each the length of Percy. He wasn’t human anymore. Wasn’t even a man anymore! Dodds was a shrivelled hag with a mouth full of yellow fangs.
This couldn’t be real! Percy had to be dreaming. He pinched himself. Wake up, wake up. Wake up! He pleaded with himself.
But nothing happened. The witch still loomed over him, death in her eyes.
Percy’s heart was beating in his mouth.
Father Brunner appeared out of nowhere. Percy had only been in the alley a few minutes, and Father Brunner was not able to move quickly or quietly in his wheelchair. Especially not on the cobbled streets. Percy should have heard him coming. He could often hear the father coming from streets away. He definitely could not have appeared here so quickly without Percy hearing or seeing him.
“Perseus!” Father Brunner shouted.
Percy managed to rip his eyes away from the witch long enough to catch the coat pin Father Brunner had just thrown at him. But when it hit his hand, it wasn’t a coat pin anymore. It was a long bronze sword. The same shape as the Greek swords Father Brunner had shown Percy in a book about ancient Greece. What was Father Brunner doing with an ancient Greek sword? He was a priest, for God's sake!
But there was no time to consider the sword in his hand, the witch was clawing towards him. Death dripping from her skin. Scythe like claws bared and itching for a kill.
Percy’s legs buckled under him. No longer able to survive under the immense pressure of the witch above him. He almost dropped the sword.
“Time to die, boy.” The witch snarled. “I have waited a long time for this.”
Percy did the only thing a boy raised in the slums of London would do. He swung the sword with every ounce of strength he held in his body.
The sword hit her shoulder and passed cleanly through her body as though it were made of butter.
The witch exploded into yellow powder, leaving nothing but a rancid smell.
Sinking to his knees, Percy let the sword slip from his hands. Tears fell from his eyes, stinging and burning as he tried to process what had just happened.
He had just encountered a demon. A witch! A hellspawn!
But now Percy was alone in the alleyway. No trace of the fight.
There was no coat pin in his hand anymore.
No Father Brunner at the end of the ally.
Had a demon just tried to possess him? What was that sword? Was the devil testing him? It had to have been divine. Was it God's way of answering his prayer?
Percy pushed himself onto trembling legs, trying.
When Percy managed to get his legs to take him back to the taxi ranks, Morgan sidled up to him. “I hope that Kerr showed you some proper discipline, you ungrateful bastard.”
Percy cocked his head to the side. “Who, sir?”
“Your employer!”
Percy stumbled backwards. Millions of thoughts swirled through his mind. He asked Morgan what he was talking about.
He just slapped Percy’s already sore cheek and muttered about stupid young boys.
Percy turned around with every intention of going home. He definitely wasn’t getting paid today, so there was no point continuing working, and even if he had a chance of payment, he didn’t think his legs or constitution could carry him through the day.
When he turned around, he came face to face with Father Brunner. Percy was lost as to how the priest had managed to come up behind him so quietly.
"Father," Percy said. “Do you remember a taximan named Dodds?"
The father seemed to consider the name for a second. "No, I cannot say I have.”
“Are you quite sure, Father?" Percy pushed.
“I’m sorry, Jackson, but there has never been anyone with the name Dodds in this area as long as I’ve been here.”
Percy's mind was reeling. “Oh well, thank you for your assistance, Father. I must be recalling something wrong.” He couldn’t keep a tremble out of his voice.
“It is quite alright, my boy.” Father Brunner said, placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “I hope to see you on Sunday. I have acquired a new book on Poseidon, I think you may enjoy it. I hope you remember our prior lessons.”
Percy barely hears him. The adrenaline had run out, leaving Percy dizzy and disoriented.
Father Brunner reached out to Percy, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright, Perseus?”
Percy gave a stiff nod. “I must get home, Father."
The priest gave a small nod, the concern still etched into the crease between his eyebrows.
Percy shook his head, trying to rid the image of the demon. Maybe he should have told Father Brunner about his encounter. Maybe he would have known what to do. But then again maybe he would think Percy had made it all up as a ploy for attention and tell Gabriel. Or worst, he would call Percy crazy.
Percy wrapped his wet coat tighter around his body, pulled his cap down low and started the trek home.
He couldn’t stop shaking.