Percabeth (completed): Book 1 - Percy Jackson Fanfiction

Chapter Sixteen ~ PERCY

• Chapter Sixteen • 

• PERCY •

The name sent shivers down Percy's spine. "Beckendorf?"

Locksmith looked up. "Yes, that's what I said. Is there a problem?"

Percy forced himself to shake his head.

"Section Three, to your left," Floodly directed.

Willing his feet to move, Percy turned and looked around. Along the walls were big numbers painted in luminous yellow. Percy spotted a huge 3 and saw a bunch of dead demigods working on weaponry. They all wore orange jumpsuits, like prisoners would wear.

His eyes almost popped out of his head. Positioned with a whip in the centre of the group was a tall burly guy. His arms were like tree trunks, thick and bruised and rough. Two huge hands were callused, gripping the whip with an unnecessary strength. An unfamiliar out-of-place cold sneer was plastered across his face.

"What's taking so long?" he bellowed. "Those swords should be as sharply pointed as possible for spearing the living!"

Those words didn't belong in that son of Hephaestus' mouth.

Charles Beckendorf. Sweet, kind, thoughtful Beckendorf. He made the camp's armoury. He dated the head Aphrodite girl.

No. He had. Had, not was. They were two very, very different things.

A chorus of whispers erupted as the demigods paused from work.

"He's alive!"

"Oh my gods, he's alive and he looks sane!"

"He's kind of fit. Do you think I still have a chance on the pull, even if I'm dead?"

Beckendorf turned. His face registered nothing, except pure fury.

"Who are you?" he spat at Percy.

Percy was too shocked to speak. This guy looked like Beckendorf, but he'd become this monster. Had death really done that to him?

"Percy Jackson."

A ripple of surprise and fear and anger crossed the demigods' faces.

"You destroyed the Minotaur!" one of them cried.

"And you led the winning side against Kronos two summers ago!" another added.

A few grumbled in disgust. Percy figured they had died in the war, but on Kronos' side.

"Percy?" Beckendorf sounded like himself. Then he tensed his shoulders and clenched his fists. "You can get to work with Harris and Yew. Got it, punk?"

Percy nodded, unable to speak much. Beckendorf had recognised him. He knew it. So why was he acting this way? 

A cold wisp breathed along his arm. He turned and found a girl trying to hold it, but her ghostly fingers felt nothing. He didn't look up at her, just stared at those pale and dead fingers.

"Sorry," she said, her voice soft. "I'm Harris. Elisya Harris. Nice to see you again."

Percy looked up at her face. It was large, not chubby but kind of square. Her eyes were a faded green, as if all their energy had been drained. Her arms were buff and rugged, which didn't match her quiet and fearful personality.

"You're a demigod," he said. "Who's your parent?"

"Who was, you mean," Elisya said with a sigh. "Ares."