Percy Jackson: The Son of Kronos

Chapter 6: A Deadly Encounter

In a way, it was nice for Percy to know there are Greek gods out there, because there is somebody for him to blame when things went wrong. For instance, when he is walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when they are half-bloods, they understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up their day. 

So there they were, Annabeth and Grover and Percy, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind them, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in their noses. They ventured into the woods, the dense canopy above them filtering the light of the stars and casting long, eerie shadows. The air was cool, filled with the earthy scent of moss and pine. The quiet was unsettling, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant hoot of an owl.

Percy led the way, his senses on high alert. Every snap of a twig or rustle in the underbrush set his nerves on edge, but he kept his composure. They couldn't afford to stop now, not with danger lurking around every corner.

After what felt like hours, they came upon a small clearing. A fallen tree rested near the center, its hollowed trunk offering some cover. Percy inspected the area, noting the thick underbrush and the lack of any obvious trails leading in or out.

"This will have to do for now," he said, gesturing to the clearing. "We'll rest here until sunrise."

Annabeth hesitated, then nodded. "Fine, but we'll take turns keeping watch. We can't let our guard down."

Grover plopped down beside the fallen tree, rubbing his leg. "I'll take the first watch. My ears are good at picking up noises."

Percy sat beside him, leaning back against the rough bark. "Wake me up when it's my turn."

Annabeth settled on the other side of the clearing, her dagger in hand as she leaned against a boulder. She glanced at Percy, her expression unreadable. "We'll need to find supplies tomorrow. Food, water, maybe some basic gear."

Percy met her gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You sound like you've done this before."

"I've been preparing for a quest my whole life," Annabeth said, her voice matter-of-fact. "The only difference is, now I'm actually on one."

She was silent for a few minutes. "Sorry for being harsh before. It's just that if you died … aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness. Percy couldn't see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.

 "You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" he asked her. 

"No … only short field trips. My dad-" 

"The history professor."

 "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home."

 She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." 

Her words hung in the air, a reminder of the gravity of their mission. Percy didn't respond, but his mind raced. He could see the determination in her eyes, the fire that drove her to excel. She was ambitious, intelligent, and fiercely loyal—qualities he could use to his advantage.

As the others settled in, Percy allowed himself to relax slightly. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. The events of the day played over in his mind: the attack on the bus, the fight with the Furies, the explosion. It was a lot to process, but instead of fear or exhaustion, Percy felt a growing sense of resolve.

This quest wasn't just about retrieving a stolen lightning bolt. It was about proving his worth, asserting his power, and gaining the trust of those around him. Annabeth, Grover, even the gods—they were all pieces on the board, and Percy was determined to come out on top.

He would lead them through this quest, but he wouldn't stop there. This was just the beginning.

Percy awoke to the gentle nudge of Grover's hand. The satyr's face was tense, his ears twitching as he glanced toward the dark forest surrounding them. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the clearing.

"Your turn," Grover whispered, his voice barely audible.

Percy sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He gave Grover a nod, who then slumped against the tree trunk, instantly falling asleep. Percy took his position, leaning against a boulder, Riptide uncapped and resting on his lap. The weight of the celestial bronze felt reassuring in his hand.

The night was unnervingly quiet. The usual forest sounds—chirping crickets, rustling leaves—seemed distant, almost muted. Percy's gaze swept the trees, his senses on edge. He focused on every movement, every sound, ready to spring into action if necessary.

Minutes turned into hours. The stillness pressed down on him, and his thoughts began to wander. His mind returned to the battle on the bus. The Furies had been relentless, their attacks ferocious, yet Percy had dispatched them with a ruthless efficiency that surprised even him.

Was it the adrenaline? he wondered. Or was it something else? Something darker?

He tightened his grip on Riptide, the memory of his bloodlust sending a shiver down his spine. For a fleeting moment, he had enjoyed it—the power, the control. It was a dangerous feeling, one that threatened to consume him if he wasn't careful.

From across the clearing, Annabeth stirred. She sat up, blinking groggily before her eyes found Percy. "Everything okay?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Percy replied, keeping his voice low. "Quiet. Too quiet."

Annabeth moved to sit beside him, her dagger in hand. She glanced at Riptide, then at Percy's face, her expression unreadable. "You handled yourself well back there," she said after a moment. "Against the Furies."

Percy shrugged. "Did what I had to do."

Annabeth studied him, her gray eyes sharp. "You didn't hesitate. Most people would have panicked, but you... you fought like you've been doing it your whole life."

He met her gaze, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Guess I'm a natural."

She didn't smile. Instead, she looked thoughtful, as if piecing together a puzzle. "There's more to you than meets the eye, Percy Jackson."

Percy's smirk deepened. "You have no idea."

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them palpable. Percy could feel Annabeth's curiosity, her mind working overtime to analyze him. He knew she was trying to figure him out, to understand what made him tick. It was both amusing and intriguing.

Percy admired her determination. She was sharp, focused, and unyielding—a perfect ally and, potentially, a powerful pawn. But he also knew he couldn't let her see through his facade. Not yet.

"Don't worry," he said, his tone light. "We've got this."

Annabeth gave him a small, reluctant smile. "Let's hope you're right."

The next morning, the trio resumed their journey, the light of dawn filtering through the trees. Percy led the way, his sharp senses alert to every rustle in the forest. Though the previous night's harrowing events still lingered in his mind, he wore a mask of calm, carefully concealing his thoughts. Behind him, Annabeth kept pace, her gray eyes darting across their surroundings. Grover trailed slightly, his unease evident in the way his ears twitched at the slightest noise. 

Percy suddenly stopped, catching a faint aroma carried by the wind. His keen nose picked up the scent of fried, greasy food—the kind that clung to childhood memories of simpler times. It wasn't just the smell; it was the promise of calories, sustenance for their long trek. Yet, he didn't relax. His mind worked quickly, questioning why such a scent would be out here, far from any bustling road or town. 

"Do you smell that?" he asked, turning to his companions. 

"Food," Grover confirmed, sniffing the air with an almost wistful expression. "Hamburgers." 

Annabeth furrowed her brow. "Out here? That doesn't seem right." 

Percy nodded. "It doesn't. Let's stay sharp." 

They moved forward cautiously until the dense forest gave way to a clearing. A deserted two-lane road stretched ahead, framed by tall trees on either side. On the opposite side of the road stood a cluster of buildings: a rundown gas station, a weathered billboard advertising a long-forgotten movie, and, standing in stark contrast, a brightly lit curio shop. 

The source of the enticing smell was unmistakable. Neon cursive letters flickered above the shop's entrance. Percy squinted, the words twisting and rearranging in his dyslexic mind until they became an unintelligible jumble. 

"ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM," Percy muttered. 

"What?" Annabeth asked, stepping beside him. 

"Can you read it?" Percy asked, almost automatically. 

She frowned. "You know I'm dyslexic too, right?" 

Grover tilted his head, his goat-like pupils narrowing as he deciphered the sign. "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium," he read aloud. 

Percy's gaze shifted to the entrance, flanked by two cement garden gnomes. Their wide grins and stubby arms gave them an unsettling cheeriness, as if frozen mid-wave. Behind them lay rows upon rows of stone statues: animals, mythical creatures, and human figures, all scattered haphazardly like an overgrown cemetery of petrified art. 

"This feels off," Percy muttered, his voice low. 

"It does," Annabeth agreed. Yet, despite her caution, her stomach growled audibly. 

Grover hesitated. "Maybe we should keep moving. The smell—it could be a trap." 

Percy glanced at him, noting the satyr's unease. Grover's instincts were usually reliable, and his wariness only deepened Percy's own suspicion. Still, they couldn't ignore their basic needs. After all, a group running on empty stomachs was no match for the monsters undoubtedly trailing them. 

"The lights are on," Annabeth pointed out, peering through the glass. "Maybe it's open." 

"Or maybe it's bait," Percy countered. 

"Snack bar," Annabeth murmured wistfully, and Percy saw the subtle longing in her eyes. 

Percy took a breath, calculating. Entering was a risk, but turning away from sustenance could weaken them for whatever lay ahead. He wasn't naive enough to assume everything would go smoothly, but he also knew how to use danger to his advantage. If someone—or something—wanted to ambush them, they might be walking straight into the lion's den. 

"Fine," he said at last, his tone commanding but steady. "But we stay together. No splitting up, no wandering off. If anything feels off, we leave immediately." 

Annabeth and Grover exchanged glances but didn't argue. 

Percy took the lead, his senses on high alert as they crossed the street and approached the entrance. The neon sign buzzed faintly overhead, the smell of frying meat intensifying. 

When Percy pushed open the door, a soft bell chimed, announcing their arrival. 

Inside, the shop was dimly lit, the air heavy with the mingling scents of oil, dust, and something faintly metallic. Shelves lined the walls, cluttered with an assortment of oddities: carved owls, miniature fountains, and an overwhelming number of lawn ornaments. 

But what caught Percy's attention was the counter at the far end of the room. Behind it stood a Middle Eastern woman, her figure half-shadowed in the dim light. She was tall and wore a black shawl that obscured most of her body. A veil covered her face, leaving only her dark eyes visible. 

"Welcome," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "I'm Aunty Em. Please, come in. You must be hungry." 

Percy felt a chill run down his spine. Her tone was soothing, almost maternal, but something about her presence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

Annabeth stepped closer, her curiosity evident as she scanned the shop's contents. Grover, however, stayed near the door, his hand gripping his reed pipes. Percy could see the tension in his posture and the faint tremor in his fingers. 

"We were just passing by," Percy said, his tone polite but guarded. "The smell drew us in." 

Aunty Em's eyes seemed to sparkle at that. "Oh, I'm glad. It's been so long since I've had visitors. Please, sit. I'll prepare something for you." 

Before they could respond, she disappeared into a back room. Percy didn't move to sit, instead stepping closer to Annabeth and lowering his voice. 

"Thoughts?" 

Annabeth glanced toward the statues visible through the windows. "She seems … nice." 

"She also seems too eager to feed three random strangers for free," Percy murmured. 

"It's not uncommon," Annabeth countered. "Humans—mortals—can be generous. Not everyone has an ulterior motive." 

Percy raised an eyebrow. "You believe that, but you don't trust her?" 

Annabeth hesitated. "It's just … something feels wrong. I can't put my finger on it." 

"That makes two of us," Percy said. 

Grover cleared his throat. "Three of us. And for the record, her shawl? It feels off." 

Percy turned to him sharply. "What do you mean? " 

Grover nodded, his face pale. "I can hear snakes. Lots of snakes." 

Percy's heart thudded once. He looked back toward the counter where Aunty Em had disappeared. The pieces clicked together in his mind, and a wave of unease washed over him. 

"Annabeth," he said quietly, "you studied myths. Who turns people to stone?" 

Annabeth's face paled. "Oh no," she whispered. 

"Yeah," Percy said grimly. "Oh no." 

Before they could act, Aunty Em's voice called out from the back room. "Your food is almost ready! Why don't you take a look around while you wait? There's so much to see here." 

Percy exchanged a glance with his companions, his mind racing. He had no intention of being caught off guard, but the question remained—how would they deal with her? 

He turned toward the door, his voice low but firm. "We're not staying for dinner." 

Percy motioned for Annabeth and Grover to follow, but before they could reach the door, Aunty Em reappeared, carrying a tray piled with steaming food. The smell of freshly grilled hamburgers filled the air, but Percy's heightened senses picked up something else beneath the enticing aroma—something rotten. 

"You're leaving so soon?" Aunty Em asked, her voice tinged with disappointment. "You've barely had time to rest." She placed the tray on the counter and gestured toward the stools in front of it. "Come now, sit. Eat. You must be starving." 

Grover shifted nervously, his hands gripping his reed pipes tightly. Annabeth stepped closer to Percy, her gray eyes narrowing as she watched Aunty Em carefully. 

"We appreciate the offer," Percy said, his tone steady, "but we really need to keep moving." 

"Nonsense," Aunty Em said with a soft laugh. "You're all so thin. You'll need your strength for the road ahead." She tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity. "Besides, it's dangerous out there. Creatures roam these woods, you know." 

Percy didn't flinch, though his muscles tensed. "We'll take our chances." 

Aunty Em's smile faltered, and for a moment, something cold and menacing flickered in her gaze. "Is that so?" she said softly. "Such a pity. I was hoping you'd stay longer. It gets so lonely here." 

Percy's instincts screamed at him to move, to act, but he forced himself to remain calm. He couldn't afford to show weakness or fear. 

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said, his voice firm. "But we really need to go." 

As he turned toward the door, Aunty Em's voice sharpened, losing its friendly warmth. "And here I thought you were polite children." 

Percy froze, his hand just inches from the door handle. Slowly, he turned back to face her. Her veil fluttered slightly as if stirred by an unseen wind, and Percy caught a glimpse of something serpentine writhing beneath the fabric. 

"Annabeth," he said quietly, not taking his eyes off Aunty Em. "What's the one rule about looking at a Gorgon?" 

"Don't," Annabeth whispered. 

"Exactly," Percy said. "Grover, close your eyes." 

Grover immediately shut them tight, his breathing quick and shallow. 

Aunty Em let out a low, mirthless laugh. "Clever boy," she said, her voice echoing unnaturally. "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told him soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

Percy stepped forward, placing himself between Aunty Em and his friends. "I think I'll pass on the whole 'stone statue' thing, thanks." 

Her voice dropped to a hiss. "You're more trouble than you're worth, little demigod." 

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain." 

"Flattered," Percy shot back. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of Riptide, his trusty pen-turned-sword. "Annabeth, Grover—get ready to run. I'll keep her distracted." 

Annabeth hesitated. "You can't fight her directly. You'll—" 

"I'll manage," Percy interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Aunty Em's veil slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of her scaled, monstrous features. Percy averted his gaze, focusing on her shadow instead. "Let's see if you're as sharp as you think, boy," she hissed. 

She lunged, faster than Percy expected. He rolled to the side, unsheathing Riptide in one fluid motion. The celestial bronze blade gleamed in the dim light as Percy swung at her, aiming for her torso without looking directly at her. 

"Go!" Percy barked at Annabeth and Grover. 

Annabeth grabbed Grover's arm, pulling him toward the door. Percy heard it slam open behind him, but he didn't look back. He couldn't afford to. 

Aunty Em lashed out with clawed hands, the air whistling as her nails narrowly missed Percy's face. He ducked and countered with a swift slash of his sword, forcing her to retreat. 

"You're good," Aunty Em taunted, circling him like a predator. "But how long can you keep your eyes closed? How long before you slip?" 

"Long enough," Percy shot back, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. 

He could hear Annabeth shouting outside, likely trying to come up with a plan. Grover's panicked bleating echoed faintly, but Percy blocked it out, focusing entirely on the sound of Aunty Em's movements. 

She lunged again, her claws aiming for his throat. Percy sidestepped, bringing Riptide down in a sharp arc. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, and Aunty Em let out a shriek of pain and then Percy heard a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern-the sound of a monster disintegrating. 

Something fell to the ground next to his foot. It took all his willpower not to look. He could feel warm ooze soaking into his sock, little dying snake heads tugging at his shoelaces.

"That," Grover said as he panted, "was way too close." 

Annabeth came up next to Percy, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil.

 She said, "Don't move." Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice. "Are you okay?" she asked him, her voice trembling.

"Yeah" he replied

The place had grown eerily silent. The acrid stench of burning rubber and shattered glass from their earlier encounter lingered in the air. Percy scanned the debris-strewn with calculated precision, his mind a churn of thoughts. His exhaustion was tangible, but he refused to let it show. Not in front of Annabeth or Grover. Weakness was a vulnerability he couldn't afford—not now, not ever. 

The brown paper bag sitting on the picnic table drew his attention. The innocuous words printed on the side of the bag, 'WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!', felt almost insulting after the life-and-death struggle they had just endured. 

Annabeth and Grover sat nearby, Annabeth massaging her temples as though trying to piece together a coherent plan. Grover nervously glanced at Percy, who stood unmoving, his expression unreadable. 

"We need to regroup," Annabeth said finally, her voice steadier than Percy would have expected. "Figure out our next steps. If this is what we're up against—" 

Percy cut her off with a deliberate wave of his hand. "I'll be back," he said curtly, turning toward the far end of the shop, also taking Medusa's head with him. 

"Percy, what are you doing?" Annabeth's voice followed him, edged with suspicion and concern. 

He didn't answer. He couldn't afford to. 

Percy found Medusa's office tucked behind a steel door at the back of the shop. The small, dimly lit room reeked of stale incense, its walls lined with shelves stacked high with knick-knacks and ledgers. Medusa's meticulous record-keeping stood in sharp contrast to the chaos she had left behind in her demise. 

Fingers brushing the dusty spines of her account books, Percy found what he was looking for. Medusa's ledger detailed recent shipments: sculptures sent to the Underworld, destined for the gardens of Hades and Persephone. His eyes narrowed as he traced the shipping address—'DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California'.  

He tore the page free, folded it with precision, and tucked it into his pocket. The action felt like placing a piece on a chessboard. 

A quick scan of the office yielded more treasures: a cash register with twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and several Hermes Overnight Express slips. Percy's gaze lingered on the leather pouches attached to the packing slips, designed for drachma payment. 

Efficient. 

He searched further until he found an appropriately sized box. Returning to the picnic table, he ignored the startled looks from Annabeth and Grover as he unpacked Medusa's head from the veil. 

"What are you doing now?" Annabeth asked, suspicion laced in her tone. 

Percy didn't reply immediately. He placed the gorgon's head into the box with a calm deliberation that made Annabeth shift uneasily in her seat. The sight of him, so composed in handling something so grotesque, was unnerving. 

Picking up one of the Hermes Overnight Express slips, Percy filled it out with steady hands. The address came to mind easily, the words flowing like they'd been waiting in his thoughts for years. 

The Gods 

Mount Olympus 

600th Floor 

Empire State Building 

New York, NY

At the bottom, he added a note in his neat handwriting: 

With best wishes, 

Percy Jackson 

The message was simple, but the intent behind it was calculated. Percy didn't just want to provoke the gods—he wanted them to notice him. If their quest was to succeed, they needed to understand that he wasn't just another pawn in their game. He was a player in his own right, and he would force them to see it, one way or another. 

"You're sending them the head?" Grover asked, his voice wavering between awe and alarm. "Percy, they're not going to like that. They'll think you're—" 

"Impertinent?" Percy finished, his tone dry. "They already think that." 

Grover hesitated, glancing at Annabeth for support. She didn't offer any. 

Annabeth's gray eyes were fixed on Percy, a mix of wariness and curiosity. She opened her mouth as if to argue, but then she stopped herself. Percy was proving to be far less predictable than she had expected. And unpredictability, she realized, could be dangerous. 

Percy dropped a handful of golden drachmas into the pouch attached to the packing slip. The sound of clinking coins resonated in the tense silence. As soon as he sealed the box, a faint hum filled the air, like the buzzing of a distant hornet's nest. Then, with a soft pop, the package vanished from the table, leaving nothing behind but a faint shimmer in the air. 

After a moment, Annabeth sighed and rose to her feet. "Come on," she said, her voice quieter than before. "We need a new plan." 

Percy followed, his mind already working on the next steps. Medusa's death had been a necessary obstacle, but it was just the beginning. If the gods wanted to play their game, he would make sure they regretted underestimating him. 

—

End of chapter 6 

Author's note: Guys I cannot believe that I was so stupid that I forgot to mention before that Percy and everyone is aged up in this fic and Percy is 14 years old here.