Shattered

Paul

Percy had taken to conversing with Thalia after the whole ordeal at the ping-pong table.

"Thalia," Chiron said, "perhaps you'd let me have a word with Percy?"

"Sure," she said coolly.

Chiron waited.

"Oh," Thalia sheepishly said. "You mean alone. Sure, Chiron."

She made her way out the door, brushing her raven hair out of her face.
Chiron sighed and knelt on his horse legs. "Percy, I don't pretend to understand prophecies."

"Yeah," Percy said. "Well, maybe that's because prophecies make no sense." It was true. Prophecies were absolute bull.

Chiron gazed at the saltwater spring gurgling in the corner of the room. "Thalia would not have been my first choice to go on this quest. She's too impetuous. She acts without thinking. She is too sure of herself"

"Would you have chosen me?" He knew the centaur's answer

"Frankly, no," he said. "You and Thalia are much alike."

"Thanks a lot."

He smiled. "The difference is that you are less sure of yourself than Thalia. That could be good or bad. But one thing I can say: both of you together would be a dangerous thing."

"We could handle it."

"The way you handled it at the creek tonight?"

Percy didn't answer. He'd nailed him to his coffin. Maybe taunting the daughter of Zeus hadn't been the best decision he had chosen to repeat, but he was not going to be a pushover to Thalia.

He pulled Riptide out of his pocket and set it on his nightstand.
When Chiron saw the pen, the centaur grimaced. "It's no wonder Phoebe doesn't want you along, I suppose. Not while you're carrying that particular weapon."

Percy understood what he meant. The sword and Zoe went far back. The sword was effectively a key part in Zoe's origin story.

Chiron pulled a golden drachma from his saddlebag and tossed it to Percy. "Call your mother, Percy. Let her know you're going to be gone for the quest. And, ah, for what it's worth... I almost volunteered for this quest myself. I would have gone, if not for the last line."

"One shall perish by a parent's hand. Yeah."

He didn't need to ask. He knew Chiron's dad was Kronos, the evil Titan Lord himself. The line would make perfect sense if Chiron went on the quest. Kronos didn't care for anyone, including his own children.

"Chiron," Percy said. "You know what this Titan's curse is, don't you?"

His face darkened. He made a claw over his heart and pushed outward—an ancient gesture for warding off evil. "Let us hope the prophecy does not mean what I think. Now, good night, Percy. And your time will come. I'm convinced of that. There's no need to rush."

But Percy knew that Chiron was right. He knew exactly what the Prophecy would entail with that specific line. Percy knew that Chiron knew.

Percy stood at the saltwater spring, rubbing Chiron's coin in his hand and trying to figure out what to say to his mom.
Finally, he took a deep breath and threw in the coin. "O goddess, accept my offering."

The mist shimmered. The light from the bathroom was just enough to make a faint rainbow.

"Show me Sally Jackson," He said. "Upper East Side, Manhattan."

And there in the mist was a scene He fully expected. His mother was sitting at their kitchen table with Paul Blofis. They were laughing hysterically. There was a big stack of textbooks between them. The man was, thirty-something, with longish salt-and-pepper hair and a brown jacket over a black T-shirt. He looked like an actor—like a guy who might play an undercover cop on television.