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A monster's approaching Camp Half-blood.
Luke looked across the winding roads of Long Island, his wings twitching as a bull bellowed in the distance.
Monsters near the camp weren’t a new occurrence. With dozens of demigods rounded up in one location, the combined smell attracted all sorts of creatures— hell, minor monsters were lurking through the forest of the camp right now. Monsters were common; monsters chasing demigods were common as well, so Luke made no move to alert Chiron or his Uncle Dionysus. Rather, Luke stood from his perch on Thalia’s pine tree and flew to where all the commotion was coming from.
An ’78 Camaro was speeding down the lone road that led to the sides of ‘Delphi Strawberry Farms’, a secret entrance into camp. Chasing behind the car was a monster Luke hadn’t expected to see near camp.
The Minotaur’s roar was lost to the booming of thunder overhead.
As overdramatic as always, Grandpa.
Luke waved his hand over the speeding car image, blessing the woman inside with the ability to see down the winding country roads. Flying ahead, Luke began to create distance between the vehicle and the beast. The country roads were old and partially forgotten, so it wasn’t hard for Luke to split the asphalt open, for roots to rip the ground apart, tripping the bull-man, for the road to stretch and shrink, cutting travel time down for the Camaro and adding miles for the Minotaur.
The car was less than a mile from Half-Blood Hill. Luke was confident he had given the woman the advantage she needed to get the demigod she was traveling with across the border. Once the demigod was safely inside the camp, the Minotaur would leave her alone.
Unfortunately for Half-bloods, things never went their way.
The rising of his hair was the only warning he got before being blinded.
The roof of the car was cracked open like a busted can. The lightning had flung the car off the road so violently that the doors on the driver’s side had been wedged into the mud. The people inside were still alive; Luke could see their souls flicker from the pain of being blasted off the road, but they were still relatively in one piece.
The clouds overhead grumbled in displeasure, and a tingle ran down Luke's spine— a warning.
Luke cursed, but didn’t disobey. Flying back to his perch on Thalia’s tree, Luke watched as the demigod, who must have been the boy’s mother, dragged a satyr out of the back seat of the busted car.
The ground shook as the Minotaur got closer. The boy and his mother argued, urging one another to start moving up the hill. Luke wanted to tell both of them to shut up and just start moving, but his grandfather had already made it clear.
No interfering. Zeus wanted them to die.
The pair still wasn’t moving. A hundred feet sat between the boy and safety. Surely whatever the woman was saying could wait until after they were out of danger?
The Minotaur sniffed at the smoking remains of the car, unaware that the people he was seeking were less than seventy feet away from him.
Once he saw that the vehicle was empty, he grabbed the car by its torn roof and threw it back down the road, where it skidded to a stop a mile down, promptly exploding.
Yikes. Luke hoped the woman would be able to get a ride home.
The Minotaur screamed to the heavens in rage, tromping uphill.
He had smelt them.
Come on, the barrier was so close. The wings on Luke's ankles gave a nervous flutter. If this were any other demigod, Luke would have interfered by now, but he wasn’t crazy enough to defy his trigger-happy Grandfather.
The trio was only a few yards from the pine tree, but the Minotaur was gaining ground fast.
The boy's mother shouldered the satyr and yelled at the kid to run. Smart choice; so long as the boy made it up the hill, the Minotaur would lose interest in the other two.
The Minotaur glared at the demigod. Lowering his head, the monster kicked his feet in the grass, preparing to charge and impale the young boy.
The boy, though trembling in his fear, held his ground as the Minotaur charged at him like an out-of-control train, jumping out of the way just before being killed.
A good plan, but Luke feared it wouldn’t work more than once.
Unfortunately, Luke was right.
The Minotaur pawed at the ground, having set his sights on the older woman who was setting the still-unconscious satyr down in the grass. Luke would have to talk to Chiron about this satyr; this was the second time something like this had happened.
“Run, Percy! I can’t go any further. Run!”
But the boy didn’t move. It was as if his feet had sunk into the mud like the Camaro. Percy was helpless to watch his mother's fate play out.
The Minotaur charged like he had her son. When the woman tried to jump out of the way, her efforts were wasted. The Minotaur stuck his hand out, catching the woman in his hairy fist.
Luke turned his head, unable to watch the woman in her final moments.
“Mom!”
The young boy's cries broke Luke’s heart. After years in this line of work, Luke had long gotten over his nerves about death, but to be this young and experience such a sudden loss, Luke could only hope he had more family on the outside to take care of him.
The Minotaur tightened his grip around her neck, squeezing until she disappeared into a cloud of gold.
Okay. Weird.
Luke blinked, confused. He’s seen a lot of odd things happen at Camp Half-blood, but nothing quite like this.
If the Minotaur had meant for that to happen, or if he was just as surprised, the bull-monster didn’t linger on the incident, sniffing at the satyr lying in the grass.
“Hey! Hey, stupid! Ground beef!” Percy had taken off his red raincoat and was waving it around, screaming cow-related insults at the Minotaur’s back, slowly making his way under Luke’s perch, tempting the Minotaur away from his protector.
The Minotaur charged once more, both arms reaching out to catch Percy whichever way he tried to dodge.
Curse you, Zeus. What could this poor boy have possibly done?
The Minotaur was too fast and too prepared. Percy tensed, surprising Luke when instead of going left or right, he went up—using the creature's head as a springboard on the way up.
The Minotaur's head slammed into Thalia’s tree, nearly shaking Luke out of his hiding spot. Percy held onto the Minotaur’s horns as the monster bucked like an out-of-control rodeo bull. The satyr groaned in the grass, moaning for food, drawing the beast's attention.
If either boy managed to survive the monster, Luke would have to discuss with Chiron the kinds of satyrs he allowed to leave camp.
Percy wrapped his hands around one of the bull's horns, pulling back with all his might before the horn came off— snap!
Percy flew off the Minotaur's neck, clutching the broken horn in his hands. Rolling to his knees as the Minotaur barreled towards him, Percy dug the monster's horn into his ribs.
The Minotaur flailed, nearly trampling Percy as he clawed at his torso. His body began to fall apart like a waterfall of golden sand.
The rain clouds rolled past, rumbling dissatisfied in the distance.
Percy whimpered as he half-carried, half-dragged Grover to the big house, calling out for a mother long gone. Luke leapt from his branch and disappeared into his father's cabin to arrange a spot for Percy.
_____
Percy did not wake up as quickly as Luke expected. Luke had Chiron set up a spare room for Percy next to his, where he could keep an eye on him when he wasn’t monitoring his younger siblings.
Annabeth, having been at the Big House when Percy had collapsed at the front door, had taken to watching him sleep at night and feeding him in hopes that he’d wake up and answer her questions.
“You need to be patient, Annie. He needs to wake up on his own time.” Luke patted Annabeth on the shoulder. The two of them were sitting at Percy’s bedside, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest underneath his borrowed blankets.
Annabeth grumbled, glaring at Percy regardless of Luke’s words.
Luke rubbed his thumb between her brows. She was too young to be getting this wrinkly. “Annabeth, I mean it. He just got here, and I don’t want you causing any trouble for him; he’s already going through enough.”
“We’re running out of time, Luke! There are only a few weeks left until the solstice.” Annabeth argued.
Luke nodded. For the past few months, his father has been complaining about the number of dead people he’s been picking up. “And there’s no guarantee that he has anything to do with it.” However, Zeus’s attempts to kill Percy and his mother were all the clues needed. “Go and find your cabin. You’ve been up here long enough.”
“No fair.” Annabeth stomped out of the room, pouting at having been kicked out. Luke sighed, shaking his head. With a wave of his finger, the door closed and locked behind her.
Luke brushed the stack of papers on his lap, tapping his ballpoint pen on the corner. He had been filling out various documents for Percy as demanded by Mr. D, but paused when Annabeth walked in. She was much too nosy, and it was bound to get her in trouble.
Annabeth was a sweet girl, if not too intense for a child her age. But not even that was entirely her fault; Chiron had stoked a fire within her, made her dream of a heroic future for herself. Luke felt it was unfair that Percy would have to carry the weight of Annabeth’s dreams for the next week.
Luke skimmed over the meager details Chiron had given Luke about Percy. Quiet, malnourished, temperamental, and with no known family other than his stepdad. Not uncommon; it’s just a shame that it happens so young.
Rolling his wrist, the stack of papers pinched between his fingers vanished to be dealt with later.
“Today’s a beautiful day. Let’s go outside.” Luke lifted Percy off his borrowed bed, tucking a blanket around his shoulders.
Unlatching the bedroom window, Luke leapt from the second story, unconcerned about the distance from the ground as his wings beat against gravity.
“Lucian. I hope you’re not trying to kidnap our newest patient in broad daylight. I thought your old man taught you better.” Dionysus stuck his head out the back door, squinting at Luke as he descended soundlessly on the old wooden porch.
“Uncle Dion, I told you, call me Luke.” Luke sighed at his uncle's actions, knowing the god only did it to annoy him.
“I’ll call you whatever I want,” Dionysus argued, joining Luke on the porch. “So mind your manners, nephew.”
Luke scoffed, completely unamused with his uncle's theatrics. He knew by now that most of his threats were nothing but show. If he really wanted to hurt Luke, he simply would have.
“You’re so dramatic. And for your information, I am not kidnapping him; it’s a beautiful day, and the boy needs vitamin D.” Luke sat Percy’s limp body in one of the rocking chairs stationed around the wrap-around porch, tucking the blankets around him to block the midday breeze.
“Well, if you’re taking a break from babysitting, one of your kids just got kicked by a pegasus, and someone should check on it.”
“Please don’t call my siblings ‘it's. You make it sound like you don’t love us.”
“I was referring to the pegasus. Who knows what kind of disease your father's cabin is carrying.”
Luke sighed. Should have known, he thinks, patting the top of Percy’s head as he jogs down to the stables.
Luke is back in his father's cabin when Chiron brings him the newbie. A shame since Luke had been hoping to be there when he woke up.
Without his wheelchair, Chiron couldn’t fit through the doorway, though when his siblings saw the old centaur, they stopped what they were doing and bowed to him.
Chiron metaphorically handed Annabeth, the camp's newest resident, who had been sitting on the front porch of the cabin, before galloping to the archery range.
With Chiron gone, the inhabitants took to ogling Percy like a bug under a microscope.
The weight of the stares must have gotten to the poor kid, because he had managed to trip on his way in.
“Percy Jackson, meet Cabin 11.”
“Regular or undetermined.” One of the kids yelled from the back.
“Undetermined.”
Everybody groaned. Rude, but reasonable. Percy seemed like a nice kid, but he would have preferred it if he had been claimed.
“Now, now, campers. That’s what we’re here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there.” Luke pointed to a sliver of space on the floor right next to his bunk. It wasn’t much, but the kid was so small it would have to do.
“This is Luke. He’s your counselor for now.”
“For now?”
“You’re undetermined,” Luke explained patiently. Many campers asked the same thing on their way in. “They don’t know what cabin to put you in, so you’re here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers and hospitality.”
“How long will I be here?” Percy asked, tightening his hold on the Minotaur's horn. Luke will have to keep an eye on it for him, make sure no one steals it.
“Good question. Until you’re determined.”
“How long will that take?”
The campers laughed. Luke sighed, rubbing a hand down his face as Annabeth dragged the kid away with the excuse of showing him the volleyball court. Today was gonna be a long one.
Luke didn’t see Percy again until just before dinner; of course, that hadn’t meant Percy managed to escape his notice. Shortly after he left, campers had started to gossip about Clarisse and toilet water. By the sounds of things, she had been the one to get swirlied instead.
Percy snuck into the cabin, keeping along the walls until he made it to his assigned spot. With how quiet the kid was, he would have made a great child of Hermes.
Luke glided past the bodies of his siblings, holding out the sleeping bag and toiletries he had stolen for him.
“Tough first day?” Luke couldn’t imagine the answer would be anything other than yes. Poor boy looked like he’d been dragged through Hell and back.
“I don't belong here,” Percy argued. “I don’t even believe in gods.”
“Yeah, that’s how most people start. From what I’ve heard, once you start believing in them, it doesn’t get any better.” It made Luke’s heart ache. For as overbearing as his father was, at least he loved him and most of his siblings. Not all demigods could say the same.
“So your dad is Hermes? The wing-footed messenger guy?” Percy turned his head so he could watch Luke instead of the patch of floor between his feet.
“That’s him. God of roads, thieves, merchants, and athletes. Plus a few other things.” Luke winked at Percy, though he knew the boy wouldn’t get the joke until he started taking history lessons with Annabeth.
“Have you ever met your dad?”
“Of course.” Luke didn’t like to advertise that he and his dad were close. Most of the campers had no idea of what he truly was until he was guiding their soul to the underworld.
“Don’t worry about it, Percy. The campers here, they’re mostly good people. After all, we're an extended family, right? We take care of each other.” And as family, Luke would have to make sure Clarisse didn’t try to pull another stunt like earlier.
“Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being ‘Big Three’ material. Then
Annabeth— twice— she said I might be ‘the one.’ She said I should talk to the Oracle. What did they mean?”
Luke sighed, leaning all his weight on the wall behind his back. He would need to talk to them about that too. “I hate prophecies.”
“What do you mean?”
“Try not to lose any sleep over it, kid. Annabeth is just searching for someone, is all, and Clarisse is a bully. Now come on, it’s dinnertime.”
A conch shell blew in the distance, announcing the time for dinner. “Eleven, fall in!”
Percy’s next few days at camp went as well as Luke had expected them to.
After not being claimed for the next couple of days, Cabin 11 had finally started to treat him like one of their own. This included a lot of teasing and pranks. Percy was lucky he didn’t carry a wallet on him.
The rest of camp wasn’t as kind. Those who didn’t avoid him whispered about him like a bad omen, so naturally he stuck close to the only person who didn’t treat him like a bomb about to go off.
Me.
Not that I minded, of course. The boy was sweet and didn’t say much. Luke hoped it was because he was shy, and not because he didn’t trust Luke. What time they didn’t spend together, Luke spent trying to figure out what the hell had happened that night.
His grandfather was a grumpy man, but openly targeting this boy and his mother —going so far as to send the Minotaur after him—even that felt excessive.
Luke had tried to squeeze some possible answers out of his Uncle, but the banished Olympian hadn’t squealed. Hermes wasn’t any more eager to talk. His father was a busy god, so busy that it was a wonder how he managed to do even the things that kept him busy, but he’s always made time to speak with Luke; these past few months have been on-and-off radio silence.
Luke clenched the last letter his father had sent him in his fist. ‘Don’t leave. I love you.’
Way to keep it cryptic, Dad.
Luke relaxed his fist, looking down at the now empty patch of floor by his bunk in Cabin 11.
Son of Posiedon, huh? That kid really did have awful luck.
Tucking his father's letter under his pillow, Luke snuck out of Cabin 11 in need of some fresh air. Once he was on the front porch, Luke shook off the mist that covered his body.
Four pairs of hawk wings fluttered under Artemis’ moon, finally having been freed. Luke leapt from the cabin and flew deep into the forest of Camp Half-Blood. He needed to blow some steam.
When Luke walked out of the trees, the sun was attempting to chase the moon out of the sky, and the Harpies were running off to their nest.
A storm was brewing. Every day, Zeus only got angrier; Percy being claimed only made things worse.
The canoe lake rocked with the force of the whipping winds, salt crystallizing the beach.
This early in the morning, the only campers who would have no issue being awake were the Apollo kids in Cabin 7. Percy must be trying to beat them as the earliest bird.
Percy sat next to the front door, his knees tucked under his chin. Luckily, the kid had the foresight to bring a blanket with him outside, but he was still trembling like a newborn foal.
“Percy?”
Percy jumped, gasping, having obviously been caught off guard. “L-Luke?”
“Hey, kid. What are you doing up so early?” Luke was hesitant to step onto the porch. His father, like most of his siblings, was siding with Zeus in this brotherly quarrel. Luke had shown Percy nothing but kindness so far, but he didn’t want to push his luck.
Percy rubbed his eyes with his blanket, looking much older than a healthy twelve-year-old should. “Bad dream.”
Luke waited for Percy to continue, but whatever the dream was, Percy wasn’t eager to share.
“That’s no good. You mind if I stay out here with you?” Percy shook his head no before lowering his head back between his knees. Luke sighed, sitting at the top of the small set of stairs of the cabin.
As the day moved forward, campers began to crawl out of their cabin. Luke should be in his own cabin waking up his siblings, but he was hesitant to leave Percy alone in his fear. Whatever he had seen in his dreams couldn’t have been anything good. After all, demigod dreams were rarely just dreams.
“Are they going to kill me, Luke?”
Luke jumped. Percy was such a silent kid.
“What?”
Percy rubbed his hands down his legs. “I’m not supposed to be alive, am I? Everyone whispers about death when I pass. My Dad did something bad, and now I’m paying the price.”
Luke’s heart throbbed painfully in his chest. Curse Poseidon, curse Zeus; how could anyone look at Percy and suspect him of stealing anything? Percy couldn’t steal a leaf off a tree.
“I don’t think they’ll kill you. Not while the masterbolt is still missing. If they truly believe you are the sole thief, they’ll want you to return it, or maybe your father will send you after the real thief.” Luke’s words sounded hopeless to his own ears. His grandfather was a paranoid and unpredictable god; there was no telling what he’d do.
“Send me after the thief? How? If they know who it is, can’t they grab it themselves?” Percy glared at Luke from over his knees. Thunder rumbled overhead, and over the Long Island Sound, rain started to fall in heavy sheets.
“There are rumors. The Fury, the Hellhound, the Minotaur, two of the Big Three fighting over symbols of power…” Luke trailed off. He didn’t like talking badly about his Grand-Uncle; he’d spoken with him a few times, and he didn’t seem all bad, just lonely and unsociable.
“Hade—”
“Lord of the Dead.”
“The Lord of the Dead stole it?”
“That’s what people think. Chances are you’ll be sent on a quest soon to steal it back from him.” That was, of course, if Hades had it.
“My mother.”
Luke tilted his head. Words whispered into shaky knees, just barely heard over the howling wind. “Yes. Your mother, I’m sure he has her too.”
Percy rose from the porch, looking all the part of a scared twelve-year-old, but at the same time something more. Something hardened.
“How do I get a quest?”
On the front porch of the Big House, Chiron and Dionysus were in the middle of a game of pinochle. Two invisible players played along with a set of floating cards. Chiron’s horse anatomy was tucked away in his magical wheelchair, and Luke’s uncle was dressed in one of his signature Hawaiian shirts, sipping on a Diet Coke. While on the outside they looked like two old friends having a friendly card game, Luke could see the tension that surrounded them.
“Well, well, our little celebrity. Come closer,” Mr. D said, not looking up from the table. “And don’t expect me to bow down to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father.”
A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house.
“Mr. D, please—”
“Oh, hush. If I had it my way, I would make your molecules explode in flames.”
“Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D,” Chiron insisted.
“Nonsense,” Dionysus insisted. “The boy wouldn’t feel a thing. Nevertheless, I’ve agreed to restrain myself. I’m thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your Father.”
“Uncle!” Luke stepped forward, pleading with his uncle to stop speaking so cruelly.
“Oh, all right,” Dionysus relented. “There’s one more option, I’m sure Lucy already told you, but it’s deadly foolish.” Dionysus rose, and the invisible players’ cards dropped to the table. “I’m off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the boy is still here when I get back, I’ll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand?”
Dionysus looked at Luke, a silent question if he wanted to come with. Luke shook his head. He’s already made up his mind; he wasn’t going to let Percy go about this alone.
One moment Dionysus was standing before the group, and the next he was nothing more than grape perfume in the wind.
Chiron smiled at Percy, but he looked tired and strained.
“Come on, Percy.” Overhead, thunder continued to roll behind darkened clouds; flashes of light illuminated the halls of the Big House as Luke guided Percy to the attic. Luke was thankful that Mr. D’s magic kept any unpleasant weather out of the camp; this storm was only going to get worse.
The Big House attic, the home of the Oracle, or at least, what remained of her, was a location Luke seldom traveled to. His father had forbidden Luke from speaking with her, insisting that she had nothing for him. Whatever. It’s not like he was interested in quests or glory.
Luke pushed the attic door open, pulling Percy back as the ladder fell out of the room with a heavy thud.
Following behind Percy, Luke coughed at the dust in the air; mementos of past quests littered the floor.
Forgotten things.
By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was a woman’s shriveled husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, the beaded necklaces of demigods long passed, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits; she’d been dead a long, long time.
When Percy got close enough, her mummified body snapped straight, green vapor poured out of her mouth and flooded the room. Behind Luke, the trap door slammed shut, and the hissing of a dozen snakes rattled the room.
“I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.”
Percy took a cautious step back before squaring his shoulders and marching towards her. “What is my destiny?”
The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around a table with pickled monster-part jars. I lost Percy in the vapor, even though he couldn’t be standing any further than three feet from me. Whatever the Oracle was showing him wasn’t for me.
When the mist disappeared, retreating into the mummy's mouth, Percy looked as if he had aged and weathered like the attic relics.
“Percy?” Luke placed a gentle hand on Percy’s shoulder, trying to shake him out of whatever spell the Oracle had put him in.
Percy slowly turned around, kicking the trapdoor back open and climbing down the ladder.
“Percy!” Luke jumped out of the attic, following Percy as he sat in the hall, his mind farther than Luke could reach. “Percy, what did she say?”
Percy panted, his pretty green eyes staring unblinkingly at Luke. “I’m going to fail.”
Luke sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Percy, you don’t know that.”
Percy shook his head, yanking insistently on Luke’s shirt. “I will. She said so.”
“The Oracle rarely speaks clearly. Apollo is a poet, and so are his prophecies; I’m sure things will go just fine.”
Percy groaned, burying his face in Luke’s collar.
Luke bit his lip, thinking of the letter tucked underneath his pillow. ‘Don’t leave. I love you.’ “Did she at least say where to go?”
“You shall go West, and face the god who has turned. You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned. In the haunting night, your ruin sleeps; the stolen son must stay light on his feet. Betrayed by one he calls a friend, and you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.”
Luke flinched. Yeah, that definitely sounded like a mission doomed to fail. God who has turned? Stolen son? Betrayal?
Rubbing Percy’s back, Luke tried to think of what the hell any of those lines could mean. Go West was straightforward; one of the entrances to the Underworld was located in L.A., and facing the god who has turned could also mean Hades. Finding what was stolen and seeing it returned could mean three things: the bolt, Percy’s mother, or maybe the son? The only question was, who the hell was ‘the son’?
“In Los Angeles, there’s a record store that’ll lead you to the Underworld. However, since you’re human and living, you’ll be hunted.” Luke pulled Percy’s head away from his chest to offer him a confident smile. “That is, of course, unless you’ve already been captured.”
Percy gulped, looking into Luke’s eyes for some sort of trick. “You’ll come with me?”
“If I go with you, you have to listen to me. I don’t want you getting eaten by a monster.” Luke was going to be in so much trouble when his father found out about this.
"Thank you, Luke." Percy's hands trembled where they were balled up in Luke's shirt. He didn't cry, not since the stormy night he lost his mother, but this was the closest he would get.
"Of course." Luke sighed. His father would forgive him, just like he always has.