Apparently, I'm Dead

Chapter Eleven

This is pretty unedited, sorry!

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. 

ALEX

"GET UP!"

I jerk out of bed, lunging towards my garrotte and rushing out the door.

"ATTACK!" yells Blitz.

There's a thundering of steps behind me as we all head up to the deck. I stop abruptly, and stare at the floor.

"This is your attack?" says Mallory incredulously. "A bunch of a fish?

And she's right. There on the deck is a pescetarian's feast. Flopping around, gasping out dying breaths. It looks like a carpet of wriggling fish bodies.

Percy, who was right behind me, snaps out of his shock and slices his hand out in front of him. A wave splashes onto the deck and washes the fish back into the water. "I can't figure out why they were on deck. All they're saying is 'Angry!' and 'Fear!'" He frowns."But normally, fish don't get angry. Unless..." he pales. "Unless someone else is angry."

A man who looks like an older version of Percy materializes on the deck. He is exuding such an aura of power that I know immediately that he is a god. From his resemblance to Percy, I'm guessing this is Poseidon.

That had obviously occurred to Hearth, Blitz, and Sam way before me, because they've already dropped to one knee, lowering their head. Everyone else quickly follows.

Except Percy. Because of course, by now, I should know Percy is always the exception. All he does is press his lips together in a thin line and bow his head a miniscule amount. "Father," he murmurs, in a tone that sounds like it should be reverent, but somehow he makes it sound mocking.

"Perseus." Poseidon's eyes burn with fury. "What are you doing with these Norselings?"

"I don't know, Father," Percy hums. He sounds perfectly ordinary, but I can tell from his swirling eyes that he is angry and trying not to scream. "Why would I, the Hero of Olympus and one of the Seven, be in this Norse afterlife and not Elysium? I wonder."

Understanding filters through the god's eyes. "You- The bet. That was you?"

"I know. I couldn't believe it either. Why would my own father trade my soul away in a game of poker?" Percy asks conversationally. He leans forward, as if telling a secret. "Do you know who else used to play poker?" He straightens up, ready to throw the last punch. "Gabriel Ugliano."

Poseidon sucks in a breath and flinches minutely, as if he's been hit. I don't know who Gabriel Ugliano is, but he's obviously not someone one would like to be compared to. "Son, I-"

"No," Percy interrupts. "It's perfectly fine," he snarls, turning away from his father. "You can trade me way like the little pawn I am. You can separate me from all my friends who have died and Annabeth. You can not tell my parents and friends that I'm dead. It doesn't matter. I don't matter. Us little demigods don't deserve the attention of you great and powerful gods."

I have to hold myself back from gaping. He is going to get himself killed! What the Helheim is he doing? Are Greek gods just less trigger happy?

"Perseus, I'm sorry."

"Yes, so am I," Percy sneers, but his heart isn't in this anymore. He's made his point, and he knows his dad feels bad.

"I'll make this right. I'll convince Odin to give you back. I will reunite you with that Athena girl. All will be as it should be."

Percy melts. "Thank you, Fath-Dad."

A smile creeps its way onto the god's face. "Of course, son. We-I shouldn't have traded you away."

Percy bows his head respectfully. Poseidon places his hand on Percy's head before fading into mist.

"Who's the Athena girl?" asks Blitz, with a faintly confused look.

"That's Annabeth," answers Magnus unexpectedly. "My cousin."

"How do you know this?" I demand.

He has a faintly sheepish look on his face while answering. "I asked Percy about the streak of gray in his hair and it turned into him telling me his life story." His face turns into an expression of wonder. "He's held the sky."

"What do you mean, 'He's held the sky?' How does someone hold the sky?" Blitz asks.

Percy's mouth quirks up in a half smile. "It takes a whoooole lot of adrenaline. Demigod adrenaline."

"And Gabriel Ugliano? Who's that?" Magnus asks. Stupid, tactless Magnus.

Percy's eyes flash darkly, murderously. It's only for a second, but the people who see take an involuntary step back. Me included. "He was my step-father," he manages to grit out. A slightly maniacal smile ghosts over his face. "He really got my mother interested in sculpture."

I cross my arms, annoyed by the non-answer. "Details, please?"

"I killed Medusa. I sent the head to the gods. They sent it back. I gave it to my mom. She turned Gabe into a stone statue. He now resides in the Soho museum." Percy smirks.

You don't seem too sad about that, Hearth notes.

"No. I'm not sad at all. He was horrible." And with that, the conversation is over. He turns around and flings his hand out in front of him. The boat jerks, then starts moving slowly forward, picking up speed as it goes.

Hearth and I seem to be the only ones who pick up on the level of venom exuding from Percy's voice. I'm almost taken aback until I realize that's exactly how I talk about my father. I narrow my eyes at Percy. Was his step-dad abusive?

I watch as he flinches slightly at the sight of a raised hand when paired with a loud voice. I remember how he shivered at the word poker.

He was abused.

I almost don't believe my own conclusion at first. He seems so strong, not ridden with self-doubt and fear. But then I think about how Magnus looks at me. As if I'm the strongest person in the world. As if my father couldn't tear me down with a couple of words and a well-placed fist.

And then I'm impressed by how perfect Percy's mask is. I never would have guessed if not for being abused myself.

Maybe I can ask him for lessons. 

Thanks,

ATOTALMUSICALNERD