𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬'𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 • 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯

Quest

Y/n Pov:

This week started normally, but of course, it wasn't. 

Chiron had moved Percy into cabin three the next morning after Capture the flag and he was miserable. Annabeth and I still taught him Greek in the mornings, but with not that much enthusiasm. Every time Percy said something, Annabeth scowled at him as if he'd just poked her between the eyes.

Nobody mentioned the hellhound, at least not in Percy's presence. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages: one, that Percy was the son of the Sea God; and two monsters would stop at nothing to kill him.

We needed a quest to return whatever was making the gods so angry.

Everyone at camp kept their distance, everyone except me. I came daily to Percy's cabin and we would talk about what was on our minds. Sometimes we would play some games like pickup sticks, ludo or chess. I would teach him some Spanish and Archery, and we trained, spear against sword.

I woke up to a storm that day. It wasn't normal. Why would we need a huge-ass storm to grow the crops when a little bit of rain is fine? Something wasn't right.

I shrugged the feeling away and got ready for the day. OH, MY, GODS THAT RHYMED.

I stood on the porch, with my poetry notebook and was about to write more poetry when I spotted Percy and Grover going to who-knows-where. I decided to join them.

Grover, Percy and I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Mr D at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheelchair. They were playing against invisible opponents—two sets of cards hovering in the air. 

"Well, well," Mr D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity." 

Percy stood still.

"Come closer," Mr D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow 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. 

"Blah, blah, blah," Dionysus said. 

Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth. I stood closer to Percy.

"If I had my way," Mr D said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. ButChiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm." 

"A spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr D," Chiron put in. 

"Nonsense," Mr D said. "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." 

"Mr D—" Chiron warned. 

"Oh, all right," Mr D relented. "There's one more option. But its deadly foolishness." 

Mr D rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. 

"I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting," he said. "If the boy is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."

Mr D picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a security pass. He snapped his fingers. The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind. Chiron smiled at us, but he looked tired and strained.