A/N: Hey guys! As promised, here, is the new chapter! Yay! xD

For those of you wondering, my exam and tests and the EQAO Literacy all went well. I think Athena might have helped me a bit on the exam, since the day of it, I walked into civics class and knew absolutely nothing. And then, when I looked down at the exam, I suddenly knew the answers! :O I ended up with a 91% on that, and on my two math tests I got 100%, so I'm not getting a math tutor and I get to keep my laptop! Hallelujah! ;)

Thank you so much for all your reviews. We've passed the 50 review mark! :D :D Thank you guys so much! :D Blue chocolate chip cookies for everyone! :D :D Guest review responses are at the bottom!

This chapter is dedicated to a very special person, the very first person to ever read this story. Thank you so much! And….

HAPPY BIRTHDAY YAOYAN! :D :D :D :D

I hope you like this chapter!

Oh yeah, for this chapter, BOLD is what is written in the book, NORMAL is AnnabIeth's thoughts, and ITALIC when Annabeth is dreaming. Her dream is from the third person. Basque in the awesomeness of her dream. ;3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. It all belongs to Rick Riordan! Except for Miles. :3

"Annabeth!" a male voice yelled.

"Shhh!" Annabeth said, her invisible hand clamping down over the guys mouth, and she wrestled him down behind a big bronze cauldron. "You want to get us killed?"

Somehow, the boy managed to find her head and he took off her Yankees cap. Annabeth's form shimmered into existence, scowling, her face streaked with ash and grime. "Percy, what is your problem?"

"We're going to have company!" Percy exclaimed. "There's a bunch of young half seal, half dog monsters— telekhines, I think— in an orientation class. They're working for Kronos. Oh, and I may of alerted them to my presence, and they might just be coming this way, like, right now." Annabeth's eyes widened.

"So that's what they are," she said. "Telekhines. I should've known. And they're making… Well, look."

They both peeked over the cauldron. In the centre of the platform stood four sea demons, fully grown, each at least eight feet tall. Their black skin glistened in the firelight as they worked, sparks flying as they took turns hammering on a long piece of glowing metal.

"The blade is almost complete," one said. "It needs another cooling in blood to fuse the metals."

"Aye," a second said. "It shall be even sharper than before."

"What is that?" Percy whispered.

Annabeth shook her head. "They keep talking about fusing metals. I wonder—"

"They were talking about the greatest Titan weapon," Percy said. "And they…they said they made my father's trident."

"The telekhines betrayed the gods," Annabeth said. "They were practicing dark magic. I don't know what, exactly, but Zeus banished them to Tartarus."

"With Kronos."

She nodded. "We have to get out—"

No sooner had she said that that than the door to the classroom exploded and young telekhines came pouring out. They stumbled over each other, trying to figure out which way to charge.

"Put your cap back on," Percy said. "Get out!"

"What?" Annabeth shrieked. "No! I'm not leaving you."

"I've got a plan. I'll distract them. You can use the metal spider—maybe it'll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what's going on."

"But you'll be killed!" Annabeth cried, desperation ringing clear in her voice.

"I'll be fine. Besides, we've got no choice."

Annabeth glared at Percy like she was going to punch him. Then, she did something even more surprising. She stretched up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

"Be careful, Seaweed Brain." She put her cap on her head and vanished. She ran out of the centre of the volcano, following the spider once more, with tears streaming down her face.

HJC

Suddenly, Annabeth was standing on the slope of Half-Blood Hill.

Percy and a woman with soft brown hair, most likely Sally, his mother, were running up the side of the hill that touched the road, Grover draped over their shoulders.

Sally suddenly transferred all of Grover's weight onto her own shoulders and told Percy to separate.

Annabeth watched helplessly, like a ghost witnessing the murder of a friend, as the monster bore down on the young boy.

Percy held his ground until the last second, and the beast barreled past.

Then the Minotaur turned towards Sally. She was just putting Grover down, and she started slowly backing away from him and back to the road.

The monster charged at her, and she tried dodging the way her son had, but it didn't work.

Annabeth watched on in horror as Sally was lifted off of the ground by a huge meaty hand.

She watched Percy's knees buckle, watched the tears of grief streaming down his face mix with the rain as his cry was lost in the sudden wind.

The Minotaur started closing his fist and Sally desperately said one last word.

"Go!"

Then, she vanished in a rapid and blinding golden flash.

Annabeth gaped. Sally hadn't died.

That was metamorphosis.

Hades had captured her.

Quietly, Annabeth vowed to run all the way to the Underworld if she had to. She would save Seaweed Brain's mom, no matter what.

HJC

I jerked awake in my bed, nearly hitting my head on Miles' face.

"Whoa!" he said. "Oh, hey Annie, you're awake."

"Uh?" I said intelligently. "Why were you watching me sleep? And don't call me Annie!"

"No need to get feisty!" he said jokingly. "I came by to make sure you were okay. You were mumbling something about telekhines and spiders, and just now you said something about running to the Underworld to save Seaweed Brain's mother, I think. It wasn't making any sense, so I came to check on you and you were sleeping with a determined smile on your face. Care to share?" He smiled at me cheekily. I glared.

"No, I don't even know what all that was about." A small part of my brain, however, was thinking about all that I had dreamed.

Could I be developing a crush on the Seaweed Brain before I even met him?

"Sure you don't," Miles said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "If you don't want to talk about this new crush of yours,"—I blushed a deep crimson and Miles smiled goofily—"then you could have just said something instead of glaring at me."

He shook his head at me and walked back over to his own bed and pulled out an archaeology book.

I glanced at the clock and saw that it was just barely after three o'clock.

I took a deep breath and climbed off of my bed. I dropped onto my hands and knees before spreading out onto my stomach and stretching my right arm forward. With three fingers, I managed to grasp the book and dragged it out from under my bed.

I inhaled deeply again and opened it up to the fourth chapter.

I PLAY PINOCHLE WITH A HORSE

I smirked at the chapter title, knowing full well that Chiron would not appreciate to be called a horse.

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I raised one eyebrow, questioning Percy's sanity slightly.

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again.

I blushed, remembering that that was exactly what I'd done a few hours back.

I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding.

The girl with curly blond hair hovered over me, smirking as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she saw my eyes open, she asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

Summer solstice? What was I talking about?

I managed to croak, "What?"

She looked around, as if afraid someone would over hear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

Stolen? Something was stolen?

I thought about it for a moment and remembered that something in the title of the book had to do with a theft.

"The Lightning Thief," I mumbled, realization dawning on me.

Zeus' master bolt had been stolen!

This was not good. This was so not good.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, "I don't..."

Somebody knocked on the door, and the girl quickly filled my mouth with pudding.

The corners of my mouth quirked upwards again. That was definitely the best way to get someone to stop talking.

The next time I woke up, the girl was gone. A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes — at least a dozen of them — on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

That must really have been a shock for Percy. I still remembered the first time I'd seen Argus…

Let's just say it didn't exactly end well.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries.

I smiled a real, genuine smile. He was gazing at the Camp.

There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it.

"Careful," a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover, not the goat boy.

So maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And...

I winced slightly, knowing that Grover was most likely about to ruin Percy's idea of denial. The poor kid had just lost his mother.

"You saved my life," Grover said. "I ... well, the least I could do ... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap.

Inside was a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

"No," I said softly. "Unfortunately, it was as real as night and day."

"The Minotaur," I said.

I winced again. It wasn't a good idea, even at camp, to use the names of the gods and the monsters.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea—"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" I demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifted uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"My mom. Is she really ..."

He looked down.

I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

I sighed, a tear dripping out of my eye again.

That had been a surprisingly deep thought for a Sea Spawn. It was also extremely depressing and it brought back the memory of one of my dreams.

I could see it all happening before my eyes again. Sally being squeezed by the Minotaur, Percy lying on the ground, anguish written clearly on his face as he lost his only parent.

And, I admit, after that one dream, I felt a little guilty that I hadn't been there to help Percy and make sure his mom was safe too.

He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off.

I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled.

"Language Grover!" I mumbled to myself, shaking my head slightly.

Thunder rolled across the clear sky. As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I thought, Well, that settles it. Grover was a satyr. I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head.

But I was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even Minotaurs. All that meant was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light. I was alone. An orphan.

Though neither of us were technically orphans, I had to agree with Percy. Without a mortal parent you can rely on, it does feel like you're an orphan. I knew from experience.

I would have to live with ... Smelly Gabe? No. That would never happen. I would live on the streets first. I would pretend I was seventeen and join the army. I'd do something.

Oh, he would do something all right. Like stay at camp and learn how to fight monsters.

And, possibly go on a quest to save his mother.

Or to find a certain uncle's symbol of power.

Grover was still sniffling. The poor kid — poor goat, satyr, whatever

I snickered slightly at that. I'm sure Grover would just love that description.

— looked as if he expected to be hit.

I said, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did my mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least... I was."

"But why ..." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming.

I laughed quietly. Of course, even thinking was too much for a simple Sea Spawn.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover said.

"Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips.

I recoiled at the taste,

Why would he do that? The glass contained nectar, and though it could be fatal if too much was consumed, it was the most delicious drink in the world.

—because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies.

Oh, well I guess recoiling makes sense then.

And not just any cookies — my mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay.

I smiled slightly. That was a memory I wished I could have had of my step-mom, instead of all the yelling and fighting and screaming I had associated with her.

Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asked.

Obviously.

I nodded.

"What did it taste like?" He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

"Sorry," I said. "I should've let you taste."

My eyes widened.

I don't think that would have ended well at all. At least, not for Grover.

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just... wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I said. "My mom's. Home made."

He sighed. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards."

That was…good, I guess. Though, looking back on the first chapter, she definitely deserved to be thrown a hundred yards.

"That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"What do you mean?"

He took the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse.

My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I wasn't going to let it go.

As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath.

And I smiled widely, knowing exactly what he'd see.

We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture, an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena, except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings.

Yes, Percy, they do have wings. Selena was especially good at riding them. Most of the Athena cabin on the other hand… We weren't so great. Must be one of those parent rivalry things. Whenever we got on one, Selena or one of the other Aphrodite campers had to take at least ten minutes to reassure the horse or pegasus that we wouldn't hurt it, or that we weren't evil.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding was leaning on the porch rail next to them. The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels — what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park.

I lost all sense of cool I had left at that moment and laughed so hard I fell off of my bed, face planting on the floor.

I wonder how Mr. D would like being compared to that?

Snickering, I continued reading while climbing back into my bed, completely missing the worried glances my brothers were shooting me.

He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my step-father.

Yes, yes he definitely could have out gambled Gabe, the dollop head.

"That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cried.

I blanched slightly, almost having forgotten about where Chiron had spent the school year.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

That was actually pretty clever. That would make the students check over their work and question themselves once they realized that every answer was a B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

I snorted. Typical Mr. D.

"Uh, thanks." I scooted a little farther away from him because, if there was one thing I had learned from living with Gabe, it was how to tell when an adult has been hitting the happy juice. If Mr. D was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr.

That was a good observation. It took me a few days to realize Mr. D wasn't getting any wine.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now."

Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron."

She was probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image.

I glared stonily at the book. My eyes were not ugly or whatever Kelp Face was going to say.

They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

Oh. That's what he meant.

She glanced at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. I imagined she was going to say, You killed a Minotaur! or Wow, you're so awesome! or something like that.

I snorted. Someone was feeling a little arrogant today.

Instead she said, "You drool when you sleep."

I laughed full out after I read what I'd said.

That must have embarrassed the Hades out of him!

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex-Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?"

I smacked my hand to my forehead. How many times did Percy need to be told that names have power?

Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron-Brunner —

I raised an eyebrow at that. Only Percy would think to say, "Chiron-Brunner".

— broke in, "I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?"

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence."

I wondered, uselessly, what Chiron had said and/or done to convince the other Latin teacher to leave.

I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked.

"Ego alert," I mumbled quietly to myself.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

I winced slightly thinking about the day Luke and I had passed the first test while Thalia hadn't. A slow, silent tear trailed absently down my cheek.

"Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

If only he knew, then he'd understand why Grover was so afraid.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I said.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he said.

"Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less.

Weren't we all? I swear, having Mr. D for a camp director is worse for us than it is for Mr. D.

"Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules."

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron said.

"Please," I said, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun — Chiron — why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

I had wondered the same, up until I realized who exactly Percy's father was.

Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question."

The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

I shook my head slightly. Chiron was putting so much pressure on Percy's shoulders, even though he doesn't know it.

"Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?'

"She said ..." I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

I glared at the book, imagining it was Mr. D's head, for saying those incentive words so soon after Percy lost his mother.

"What?" I asked.

He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

I gasped. He didn't get to see the orientation film? Poor Percy. He was going to be so confused for the first little while. Everything about our world was explained in there.

"Orientation film?" I asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know—" he pointed to the horn in the shoe box — "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods — the forces you call the Greek gods — are very much alive."

"They never died," I stated quietly.

I stared at the others around the table. I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

"Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

No, not God. Gods, the ancient Greek gods to be exact.

"Well, now," Chiron said. "God — capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

My eyebrows rose considerably. If Zeus had heard that comment, I really wouldn't want to be Chiron.

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."

"Zeus," I said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

My head dropped into my hands again. Did this kid not listen to anyone? How many times does he need to be told not to use names?

And there it was again, distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."

"But they're stories," I said. "They're myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

I shook my head. At the heart of every myth there is some truth. Did he think Mrs. Dodds was a myth? The Fates? Were they just myths?

"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson" — I flinched when he said my real name, which I never told anybody — "what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals — they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut.

Gee, wonder why that would be? Maybe because the camp director isn't mortal?

"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

I was about to answer, off the top of my head, that it sounded like a pretty good deal, but the tone of Chiron's voice made me hesitate.

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," I said.

And having to watch everyone you love and care for die.

"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that some day people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

My mouth dropped open, forming an 'O' shape. That was way below the belt.

My heart pounded. He was trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."

My eyes widened in fear for Percy's life.

And then I thought about it. There was no way Mr. D would do that. No, wait. If a demigod made him mad enough, he would do that with pleasure.

Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe."

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

I rolled my eyes. Mr. D didn't change at all.

My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.

"Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions."

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

Old habits my Yankees invisibility cap. Mr. D was probably just testing his limits to see if anyone would notice he had a goblet full of wine.

More thunder.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke.

He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

I chuckled lightly. Ah, if only he'd seen the orientation video. Then he'd understand so much more about what was going on.

"Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time — well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away — the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha. Absolutely unfair."

"Yeah. For us!" I yelled suddenly, making Miles, who was still in the room, jump two feet in the air.

"Geez-um, Annabeth! You scared me half way to Tartarus! Who are you yelling at?"

"Oh, um, nothing," I lied.

"Uh-huh. Of course you are." Miles said, rolling his eyes. "Annie, I really don't think that book is any good for your health. It's making you have weird dreams, it's made you clumsy, it's made you yell out random comments and burst out laughing. And worst of all, it's affected your lying skills."

I glared stonily at my older brother. "I'm perfectly fine!" I snapped. "And don't call me Annie!"

Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

I made a point of laughing loudly, just to annoy Miles.

"And ..." I stammered, "your father is ..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master.

"You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine."

No, really? Don't you think the goblet of wine kind of gave that away?

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr. D."

"Then, well, duh! Percy Jackson. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

"You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

I knew exactly how Percy felt at that moment. Mr. D looked nothing like you'd imagine a god would look.

He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

Well, he is the patron god of madness.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher.

That he was. He had only won against Chiron once. But that didn't really count since it was the summer where the Aphrodite cabin had decided to give everyone makeovers and had accidentally turned Chiron into Chiron-a and put him (her) in a prom dress.

He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

I was back to glaring at the book. Grover did a really good job on his assignment, and it wasn't his fault that the Lord of the Dead was in full attack mode and his target was Percy.

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners."

He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Not anymore," I mumbled.

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like ... in America?"

Obviously. Why would there be a camp to train demigods in America if the gods weren't in America?

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

"The what?"

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know — or as I hope you know, since you passed my course — the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps — Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on — but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

Seaweed Brain. What didn't he understand by the word immortal? Immortal means the gods can't die. They can fade, or be captured and have their essences spread apart so thinly they can't ever reform, but they can't simply die.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not — and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either — America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club.

No, not a club. Percy, you are part of so much more than that.

"Who are you, Chiron? Who ... who am I?"

Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

I giggled, knowing exactly what Chiron was going to do.

"Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be smores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

I don't think 'adore' was a strong enough word for that. Chiron loves chocolate more than Remus Lupin in Harry Potter did.

As soon as I thought about that, I began to wonder. If there were books about us and our adventures, then maybe the Harry Potter books were written about a real story? Maybe all of that really did happen.

I mentally scolded myself. Of course those books weren't real. There was no such thing as a wizard, at least not the king in the harry Potter books.

And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear,—

I gave the book a weird look, reread the line, reread it again and then started choking, I was laughing so hard. White Velvet underwear? Hysterical! Percy would be a wonder to have on a quest. There would never be a boring moment if this was really what his thoughts were like.

— but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Oh, and that meeting was sure to be interesting, to say the least. I wonder what Clarisse would do…

A/N: Thank you all for reading!

Guest Reviews:

Katrinaaaa: Haha, well I updated ;) Thanks for the review and for being so enthusiastic for a new update!

Guest (the one who reviewed at 11:00pm on March 31st): Really? It's not like any others? :D :D Thanks for the review and voici your update ;)

Rex: Thanks! I'm glad you liked that chapter! And that you think my story is great! :') Well, hopefully you liked this chapter just as much as the others!

Guest (The one that reviewed at 11:23pm on March 31st): Aww :') Thank you so much! To tell you the truth, I don't know how I do it either. It must be the King of Awesome lending me some of his awesomeness powers! xD Here's the new chapter!

Thank you all so much for reading and please, oh please, review! And wish Yaoyan a happy birthday!

~Jay