Chapter Text
There is a lot of yelling. Annabeth materialises between Percy and the Sarge’s gun.
‘GET AWAY FROM HIM–’
‘PUT THE GUN DOWN!’
‘YOU’RE NOT SHOOTIN’ MY BROTHER–’
‘GUN DOWN, I SAID!’
‘YOU GOT THREE SECONDS–’
‘HE’S INFECTED!’
But if there’s one thing growing up a camp counsellor to a full cabin of demigods will teach you, it’s how to yell. No one’s outdone Annabeth to date, and she’s not about to be outdone now.
‘EVERYBODY SHUT IT!’ she booms. Everyone instinctively snaps to attention. When Annabeth calls for order, you listen. ‘The nurse attacked me. She cut herself and failed to cut me. She’s unconscious, not dead. I’m uninjured, but this is her blood.’
‘He cut his lip before. I saw it,’ The doctor claims shakily.
‘Step away from him, girl,’ the Sarge orders. Annabeth turns a poisonous look on him.
‘God fucking DAMNIT!’ Dean yells, kicking a cabinet. The doctor flinches.
Duane swallows, adam’s apple bobbing. ‘We need to shoot him.’
Dean whirls on him, shoulders up and eyes blazing. ‘No one’s shootin’ my brother, fucknuts, you got that?!’
‘He’s your brother?!’
Sam keeps his wide-eyed gaze on Percy. He looks so pale in the sterile light, it’s hard to say if the blood drains from his face or not. He looks too old all of a sudden, the lines in his face too deep and too dark. Even the colour of his eyes has deepened to black behind his bangs. Percy always thought of Sam’s hair as this bright, summery brown, like cinnamon, or– what’s that shit girls have? Strawberry blonde? Something like that. But in the gross white light of the clinic, Percy would be more inclined to call it dead mouse colour. It doesn’t look right on him, but neither does that expression.
‘Is it even possible,’ Sam blurts, completely forgetting their audience. He pushes past Dean, past the Sarge, looking quickly between Percy and Annabeth. ‘For him to…’
‘We don’t know,’ Percy admits.
‘It’s not,’ Annabeth claims.
Percy wishes he could see her expression, but he knows if he moves right now she’ll put him right back in place behind her. ‘Beth…’
‘It won’t,’ she snaps, hard and loud. Her hackles are up, her feathers bristling. Her claws threaten to dig trenches into the floor’s tile grout. She refuses to look back at him, unable to take her eyes off the threat. No one dares move.
They don’t know. There’s a good chance his godly blood will burn up the virus. Maybe whatever changes he went through in the Pit will nullify the effects. But maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll make it worse. They don’t even know what they’re dealing with here, there’s no precedent. There’s no guarantee.
And both of them know the implications of that. A hyped-up house mom gone feral is one thing. For Percy to lose it… the only person with a chance of fighting him is Annabeth, and the fallout would be incalculable. That’s assuming his condition wouldn’t affect her, and it most certainly would. If they both went… there would be no recourse.
Hm. Maybe they should’ve already killed themselves on the off chance someone figured out how to use them like that. They’ve seen it done to demigods before, after all. Something to consider if they make it out of this one alive.
Dean perks up, eyes sharp. ‘Are you sayin’ it won’t work on you?’
Percy shrugs.
‘It won’t. His blood’s too strong,’ Annabeth insists.
Duane frowns. ‘Too strong?’
‘What the hell’re you talkin’ about?’ Sarge demands.
Annabeth whirls on the doctor, who takes a physical step back. She probably doesn’t look any less fierce with blood smeared across her face. ‘Test it. Test his blood.’
It’s not ideal, giving a mortal demigod blood, but they’re low on options right now. They’ll just have to hope when this all blows over that doctor-patient confidentiality still holds up.
‘Tie me up in the meantime, if you want,’ Percy adds, offering his hands. He looks over at Dr. Lee after a moment’s thought. ‘Uh, how strong are your needles? You might need a big one. In fact, just–’
He pulls out his knife, and immediately, the Sarge’s gun is back up and trained on him. Which means Sam and Dean have got their guns on the Sarge, and Annabeth’s staring down his barrel, teeth bared. The dude’s lucky she doesn’t typically consider mortals a real threat, because if she was serious, he’d know it, and he might not recover.
Percy puts his hands up in surrender. Telegraphing his movements, he slowly places the knife down on the counter near the doc. She looks comical with her pristine white lab coat and shiny blonde hair, staring down at a Bowie knife the size of her forearm with blood smeared across the handle.
‘You’re gonna need that,’ Percy prompts her gently. Her eyes flick up to him in shock, like she’s surprised he’s addressing her.
‘Why?’ she asks breathlessly. The hair around her face puffs with it. ‘We know you’re infected.’
‘His blood is special,’ Sam informs her. ‘He has a– a condition. It’s possible the virus might not take to him.’
‘How the hell would you know that?’ Duane demands, bouncing on the balls of his feet. ‘You ain’t no doctor.’
‘Well, she is,’ Annabeth barks, jerking her head the doc’s way. ‘Let her do her thing, then you can decide.’
The Sarge is shaking his head, but Dr. Lee gets a look in her eye, one Percy’s seen on field medics under pressure. She snaps into motion, throwing on two pairs of gloves and directing people to move.
‘Wash your hands and anywhere else you’ve got contaminant. You too, make sure it’s all gone,’ she shoots at Annabeth. ‘Sarge, make sure Pam is out, tie her up in the backroom with– with Beverly. We’ll deal with her later. Marshals, if you’d restrain… um…’
‘Percy,’ Sam offers.
‘Percy. If you have any more rope.’
‘We do,’ Dean grunts, already moving to go and get it.
‘Make sure you clean your knife. I’ll use a syringe, if it’s all the same to you–’
‘It won’t pierce his skin,’ Annabeth says. ‘Save your needles. Use the knife.’
‘It will absolutely pierce his skin. These are medical-grade needles made for blood taking.’
‘I know it sounds weird,’ Percy interjects, ‘but you will need the knife. Trust me.’
She shakes her head. ‘That would potentially expose the blood to external contaminants, it could even react to the air.’
‘Well, you can give it your best shot,’ he sighs. No one ever believes him about that, but what can you do?
Soon enough, they have him tied up in the patient chair, and with three broken needles to show for it. The doc gets a little more frantic with each failure, eyes bugging a little more, until Annabeth just hands her the disinfected knife and a vial.
Which is about when Percy gets antsy. Black blood is not a very human thing to have, after all, and with three civilians and his brothers staring at him like he’s gonna do a trick, well… he’s a little nervous. Especially about Dean.
‘Nobody freak out, okay?’ He requests, eyes cutting between his brothers. Maybe Sam will vouch for him– he already knows Percy’s a freak. Maybe he’ll stop Dean from doing anything rash. Or maybe he’ll freak out too. You never know what’ll be a step too far for people, and everyone always gets there with Percy and Annabeth eventually. Maybe this’ll be where Sam draws the line. And hey, maybe it won’t matter, because it’ll turn out that he’s got this stupid virus after all, and they’ll have to shoot him. Shit, would that even work? Killing him might be the real thing to worry about– he’s not actually sure what would do it. Annabeth won’t be around to make sure he’s dead, because she’ll go with him. What if they don’t shoot him enough? Should he have packed celestial bronze bullets?
Annabeth makes the cut, which the doc only seems to allow out of shock. But she wouldn’t know how much strength to apply, how much it takes to get through skin like Percy’s, so Annabeth does it. A deliberate, shallow incision in his forearm. The doc tilts his arm up so the blood trickles down, and for a moment, she just stares, unblinking. Her mouth opens a little. Her grip loosens. Percy tries not to jiggle his leg.
Annabeth swears and swipes the vial out of her hand and collects the blood herself. This seems to shake the doctor out of her trance slightly. She pulls herself back up to standing, taking the vial once Annabeth hands it over. She holds it up to the light and stares some more while Annabeth cleans Percy’s arm up.
‘It’s black,’ Dr. Lee says dumbly.
Dean rounds the chair to get a closer look, squinting at the vial. Sam’s right behind. Percy grimaces. He has never felt more like a specimen, and he’s literally been an aquarium exhibit. Tied down like he is, he can’t even fidget.
Annabeth, glorious thing that she is, curls over him so that her mane hides him a little. Shares the curtain of her hair. Kisses his forehead. He’s glad she doesn’t apologize. She didn’t know when she kissed him. Even he didn’t think about it in time. There’s nothing to be sorry about.
‘...What does that mean?’
‘Dean,’ Sam chides. But the question’s been asked.
‘Uhh… I don’t… Sulfhemoglobinemia, maybe, I… It would explain the sulfur, but it just doesn’t fit, I mean, the way it spreads, the source– Beverly’s blood was red, so was Pam’s. I- I don’t understand. This doesn’t make any sense!’ Her voice gets more distressed toward the end, almost angry. It must suck to be a scientist confronted by the unknown. Percy doesn’t see it, but he feels Annabeth shift as the doc turns on her. She pulls back enough that he can see what’s going on, but still has her shielding his side. ‘A condition, you said. Which one?’
‘It’s because he’s…’ Sam trails off. Dean pays close attention, both of them looking to Annabeth like lost sheep. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘Yes and no,’ she says lamely.
‘Well, you have it too, right?’ Dean demands, circling closer like a shark. He always dealt with threats by being threatening right back. ‘Your blood’s the same, ‘cause of what you are. Right?’
‘What the hell are you?!’ Duane yelps. His face… he’s horrified. Scared. Maybe even disgusted. Ouch.
‘You wouldn’t believe us if we told you,’ Percy huffs.
‘Just test the blood with the contaminant,’ Annabeth barks. ‘We need to know how it reacts.’
‘Well I need to know why his blood is the wrong colour,’ Dr. Lee snaps back hysterically.
Annabeth is in front of her in a heartbeat, large and looming, crowding the woman against the counter. The same curtain of hair that hid Percy so thoughtfully from prying eyes now separates the doctor from the herd, leaving her alone at Annabeth's mercy. Maybe Dr. Lee can’t see what Percy sees, but she must feel something, because the reaction she has is not one of someone being threatened by a person. Something in her eyes. The way her pupils shake. The way she throws herself back against the counter to get away even as it digs mercilessly into her back. The way her hands come up not to defend, but to hide.
Tensions are too high. The doctor’s cracking because her logical world’s crumbling around her. Annabeth’s on edge because Percy’s in the crossfire and everyone’s threatening him. The Sarge is ready to shoot someone, and it’s looking like it’ll be Percy, and that’ll cause all kinds of issues. Sam and Dean are still reeling from having to tie up their brother, and now this whole black blood thing, and Percy’s not sure what they’re thinking and he’s doubly not sure he wants to know.
He makes an executive decision.
The ropes are easy enough to shred. He pulls Annabeth off the doctor first, grabbing the Sarge’s gun in the same movement and effectively disarming him. Before anyone can freak out about that, he hands it off to Dean, who automatically takes it.
Percy puts himself on the other side of the room, well within everyone’s range of vision, while they react. Annabeth joins him, claw at his back in that possessive grip, doing her best to reign in her glare. He arcs the ridges of his spine against her hold to calm her. He knows she loves the slide of his fins between her claws.
The Sarge’s eyes bug and he immediately backs up, looking for an alternate weapon, or maybe trying to figure out what just happened. Duane swears and falls back on his ass. The doc gasps loudly and fumbles, knocking over an empty test tube. Dean gets low and tracks Percy’s movements as best he can, instinctually familiarizing himself with the gun he’s found in his hand. Sam’s hand comes up to Dean’s chest, either to warn him or hold him back or just to make sure he’s there.
‘Alright, look, everyone’s a little high strung right now, I get it,’ Percy starts as casually as he can. Fake it til you make it, right? ‘Let’s just clear it all up without the threat of violence, huh? So, Annabeth and I have special blood that we’re pretty sure might counteract th–’
‘It’s steaming!’ The doctor shrieks, jumping back from the counter. Sure enough, the vial of black blood on the counter is putting up black swirls of steam or smoke or something.
Percy winces. ‘Yeah, you might wanna test it fast. Actually, maybe we should do that, it might burn through your gloves.’
Annabeth moves across the room to do just that, taking no heed of how Dr. Lee and the Sarge step back as soon as she gets close, staring like she’s a live grenade. Percy claps to try and get their attention back.
‘Anyway, yeah. Special blood. Chances are, this virus can’t survive in our systems, which we’re about to test. Otherwise we’re totally normal, so no need to flip out or panic or start shooting. Sorry to take your gun, Sarge, it’s nothing personal, you were just freakin’ me out a bit with your jitters, y’know, just wanted to clear everything up before handing out the live weapons. So, we all good?’
‘No. No we are most certainly not “all good”,’ the Sarge booms. He’s sweating, cutting glances between Percy and Annabeth and the steam that’s still curling up into the air. ‘You got Alien blood, brother! What the hell kinda thing are you?!’
‘Hey, watch the tone,’ Dean growls, gesturing with the Sarge’s gun, which he pointedly does not give back. But then he looks to Percy uncertainly like he wants an answer too. Percy hates to see that lost look on his face, so he looks to Sam.
Sam’s got a frown for the ages as he tries to crane his neck to see around Annabeth. He seems more interested in the steam than anything, but he looks up at Percy when the silence stretches. His lip pulls to the side in the way it does when he’s stressed, makes his dimple depeen, but it’s not a troubled expression. A little blown back, sure, but if anything he looks calculating– like he’s the one trying to explain himself here, and he’s figuring out the best way to do it without triggering one of Dean’s crashouts. It inspires a wave of courage in Percy.
‘I was serious when I said you wouldn’t believe me. Look, it doesn’t matter what Annabeth and I are. Just know that we’re in the same boat with you here– we just wanna survive the night and cure this thing. We have a few tricks up our sleeves, but we’re not gonna hurt you or anything, okay? We’re a bit weird, but so’s this virus, so hopefully we have a shot at figuring it out. Just bear with us while we do that, and, uh, maybe as a favour to us, don’t tell anyone about our weird blood. Not that they’d believe you, but… y’know. Don’t. Thanks.’
‘We’re trying to work with you here,’ Annabeth adds without looking up. ‘This will go much smoother if you reciprocate.’
‘How the fuck…’ Duane breathes out, staring goggle-eyed at the shredded rope.
‘What the hell did you bring to our town?’ The Sarge looks incredulously at Sam, and then Dean.
‘I trust them,’ Sam says immediately. No particular tone. Just a pure statement. Percy’s heart does a flip and settles into a warm tub, then jumps back out and starts pacing as it waits for Dean’s response.
‘You kiddin’ me?!’ The Sarge barks, glaring at the middle brother. ‘They showed up the same time this damn virus did! Hell, you brought ‘em here! Look at this shit!’ he kicks at the rope on the floor. ‘They might be worse than the damn problem!’
Percy’s heart gives up on pacing and starts crawling into his throat as Dean still doesn’t answer, staring heatedly back at the Sarge. He’s not a hard man to read, usually, but when he’s serious he just looks angry, and you don’t know which way he’s gonna blow up. Right now, with his brows down, eyes dark and heavy, Percy’s can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. And it’s terrifying.
‘...Think I’m gonna hold onto this for now,’ he finally says, tucking the Sarge’s gun into the back of his pants. He keeps glaring for another second, unwavering under the Sarge’s outraged look. Then he breaks the stalemate– in two long strides he crosses over to Percy’s side of the room. He comes right up to him, grabs his arm and turns it, checking the cut.
‘You still bleedin’? Stick a bandaid on it, Perce, you’re in a fuckin’ doctor’s office,’ he grunts, casual as anything. ‘How’s it lookin’, Annabeth?’
‘No contest, Percy’s blood ate right through the virus in seconds. And the test slide. He’s not gonna turn, but you probably shouldn’t touch the counter.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Percy volunteers over the triumphant beat of his heart. Jesus Christ. That’s another thing they don’t tell you about the field– there’s no time to grieve, but there’s no time to celebrate either. No time to wonder at just how close you came to losing when you still haven’t won. Instead, he savours every ounce of contact with Sam and Annabeth as he brushes by them to get to the counter, and tries to commit Dean’s quiet acceptance to memory so he can go over it all later and be properly grateful.
‘Sarge, Duane, if you wanna go, you’re free to leave. You can take what you need and try and make it on your own, no one’s gonna stop ya. That goes for you too, doc,’ Dean says while Percy quietly pulls some water from the tap and collects the spilled blood with it, guiding it all down the sink. Annabeth covers him so no one’s likely to see. ‘But your best shot at survival is with us, I guarantee it. We’re all leavin’ anyway. Might as well maximize our chances.’
‘Speaking of, we’d better move. Pam won’t stay out forever,’ Annabeth reminds them all.
Percy might beg to differ. He knows how hard she can punch. If Pam is lucky enough to wake up, she certainly won’t be in any state to cause them trouble. But they probably should get out of here.
‘You gonna give me my gun back?’ the Sarge asks.
Dean sizes him up. ‘You gonna shoot my brother?’
One sideways glance at the brother in question. Then he shakes his head. Dean hands over the pistol. Percy beams. He loves to see his brother making friends.
They’re just making a battle plan when Sam calls them over to the windows. He pulls Percy down to look through the shutters beside him, Dean following suit on his other side.
The street’s just the way they left it, the asphalt glittering darkly under the yellow streetlights. Moonlight’s bright enough to have its own say, giving the shadows license to stretch long across the quaint little business facades and shopfronts. Two short garbage cans stand sentinel on the corner, the last in a line of feathery trees planted along the sidewalk. The mist rolling off the nearby lake turns their leaves a moody blue. Baby and Penelope are front and centre, loyally parked right outside the clinic… and apart from each other, completely and utterly alone.
There isn’t a single other car along the street. The three people that have been creepily watching them all day are nowhere to be seen. In fact, no one’s around at all. It’s not like they’re hiding, either, Percy has enough faith in his night vision to be sure of that. It’s like they all just melted into the dark with the rolling mist.
Dean moves over to the front door and cautiously cracks it open, gun out. When nothing moves, he heads out, one step at a time. The rest of them are right behind him. Soon they’re all standing out on the street waiting for the other penny to drop.
It is deathly quiet. As someone who’s seen the afterlife, Percy feels qualified to say so. For the second time today, he’s reminded of Asphodel. The fog that stretches over the black sand desert down there much like the mist stretches over this black asphalt street, dampening any sound that might encroach upon it. The only difference is the uncanniness– down there, it felt wrong to see so many people clumped together like sardines and not hear a thing; no shuffling feet, no breath, no hums or hahs or swishing skirts. Even as quiet as this street is, Percy feels that he should be seeing people. But there’s no one to see. No lights in windows, no bikes rested against walls. Even the crickets have abandoned this place. Apart from the weak streetlights, the clinic is the only source of brightness. It makes Percy feel uneasy– like a beacon, or a big neon sign that says WE’RE HERE, COME EAT US!
‘They’ve all just… vanished,’ Dr. Lee says. It’s not loud, but it feels like a gunshot in the eerie stillness. Blasphemous.
‘Like the Roanoke colony,’ Annabeth hums. ‘There were no bodies found.’
Duane frowns uneasily. He licks his lips, shuffles on his feet, and finally convinces himself to speak. ‘Th-the what?’
‘An old case,’ Sam provides. ‘We think it might be related.’
‘Alright, everybody back inside,’ Dean orders. He keeps watch while everyone files back in and congregates back in the office.
Annabeth goes and checks on Pam the nurse. Sam immediately goes for the weapons, checking them over yet again out of habit. Dean stands guard between the door and the window, gun still out. Duane sits down heavily in one of the dinky little waiting room chairs, the one with the fewest stains. Doctor Lee crosses her arms tightly around herself, worrying at her lip.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ Percy snorts. ‘I mean, I did do that, which is why you probably shouldn’t.’
She stops worrying her lip and starts running her tongue over her teeth instead with a mildly alarmed look. Like she needed that reminder. She opens her mouth to belatedly reply when Annabeth charges back into the room in a way that charges the air with static and has Percy shifting his weight to the balls of his feet.
‘They’re gone. Both of them.’
‘What?’ Sam demands.
‘The bodies. The nurse and the woman. They’re not there anymore.’
Sam and Dean are immediately moving to verify this. Percy doesn’t need to. He stays in the waiting room and frowns. Annabeth takes up stance in front of him and bows her head, speaking quietly under her breath.
‘I don’t like it, Percy. It feels like a god’s work.’
‘Was the blood still there?’ he asks. She nods. ‘Then it wasn’t an illusion. A god wouldn’t leave a mess like that, they take pride in their magic tricks. Or maybe it is a god, and they were just like, I’m gonna torture you, now you gotta clean up after me. Hahahaha! Power play.’
‘But the sulfur. The word. Roanoke.’
‘The demon,’ Percy agrees. ‘The blood still bothers me though. Why leave evidence behind?’
Annabeth shakes her head, lips twisting and nose scrunching. Her thinking face. Percy tries to think it through too. A plague like this sounds like a demon alright, but disappearing everyone after? Where’s the payoff? This virus could’ve been a way bigger problem than it was. And demons don’t disappear people, they just kill them. Or maybe this is a new tactic. After all, the goal is to spread as much chaos and fear as possible, right? But they would’ve accomplished that just by letting the virus run its course through the population. What’s it gain from shutting it all down like this? Where’d everyone go? Are they gone at all, or just waiting somewhere to pounce? Gathering for a coordinated attack? Or, shit, what if they’ve all high-tailed it to the nearest town to spread the disease further?
Annabeth looks up. ‘Doctor, can you check the blood slides again? See if there’s any difference between the two subjects? Maybe we can ascertain if time is a relevant factor.’
Dr. Lee starts, and then nods, reluctantly trailing off into the main clinic room. Percy and Annabeth go with her, since everybody seems to be in there now. Best stay together.
Sam’s sitting on the counter, rifling through Dad’s journal. Dean is standing by the door to the backroom, occasionally cracking it open and swearing before closing it again. Duane’s tapping his thumb against his leg worriedly while the Sarge shakes his head at the ground, disbelieving.
‘There’s no way outta that room,’ he breathes. ‘I just– where’d she go?’
‘We would’ve seen her if she left,’ Annabeth agrees.
‘She didn’t fuckin’ evaporate!’ Duane barks.
‘What the hell…’ Everyone stops what they’re doing as the doctor sits back, a serious crease in her brow. She pitches forward again to check whatever she just saw through the microscope. Then she looks up at the room in general, lost. ‘They’re normal. Their blood has gone back to normal.’
‘What?’ Dean blurts.
‘This is regular, healthy blood.’
‘Did you use the right samples?’ Sam asks.
‘Yes.’
‘Check it again,’ Annabeth orders more than suggests. ‘Get samples from the backroom.’
So they do that. And sure enough, the result’s the same.
‘Maybe it was some sort of test?’ Sam offers weakly.
‘If anything, Roanoke was the test,’ Annabeth counters. ‘We don’t have enough information. We need to research, and to do that, we need to get out of here.’
‘Well, no one’s around anymore, right? What’re we waiting for?’ Duane asks.
‘We don’t know that,’ Percy sighs. ‘Annabeth and I will check the roadblock, see if anyone’s manning it.’
Dean’s already shutting him down. ‘No. I’ll go.’
‘You went last time.’
‘Baby’s more cover than your bike.’
‘Then we’ll take Baby.’
‘You’re not drivin’ my car.’
‘You’re not going alone.’
‘Enough,’ Annabeth snaps her beak in annoyance. ‘Dean, take Sam with you. We’ll keep our comms on, you keep up regular communication or we come and get you.’
Percy clicks his tongue. It makes sense, but he doesn’t have to like it.
So they go out again; Dean and Sam to get to Baby, Percy and Annabeth to get their helmets. They stay outside to watch the Impala peel off the curb, eyes peeled for any signs of movement. None come. Once Baby’s out of sight, they head back inside.
Annabeth sits on the counter with her helmet held up to her mouth. Percy takes up post in the corner with his own dangling from his hand, keeping everyone in view. It wasn’t that long ago that Duane and the Sarge were ready to burn him at the stake. Someone’s gotta watch them.
Sam and Dean keep up their end of the bargain, narrating the eerie fuck-ton of nothing they’re seeing. Whenever they’re quiet for too long, either Percy or Annabeth prompt them to check in. They try to keep the conversation relevant, both to stay alert and to minimise the risk of spilling any beans in front of the mortals half-listening.
‘Alright, this is it,’ Dean crackles through the comms.
‘What’re you seeing?’ Annabeth demands.
‘The roadblock’s still here, but it’s abandoned,’ Sam reports. ‘There’s no one here.’
‘Sam, help me move this shit.’
‘What’re you doing?’ Percy asks.
‘I wanna drive up a bit more, check it’s really clear all the way through. We gotta get out and move the blockade. Shouldn’t take long.’
Percy and Annabeth exchange a look.
‘Five minutes. You haven’t reported back by then, we’re coming after you,’ Annabeth promises.
‘Roger.’
It’s an antsy three minutes, and then Sam’s back on the comms telling them it’s clear. They drive up a little further. Totally clear.
They come back fine too, leaving everyone as baffled as they are grateful. At least, the mortals are grateful. Percy and Annabeth can’t convince themselves there’s no catch.
Still, they checked it out. They have nothing to hold everyone here with. They have to let them all go.
It’s getting light by the time the doctor is waving them off from the sidewalk outside of her clinic. The authorities have been called, since the phone lines miraculously started working again. And yet, Percy feels nothing but uneasy as they speed out of town, unaccosted.
Something big did that, and then just let them go. He can’t shake the feeling that it’s because they’re building up to something even worse.