Demigods turned Wizards

chapter 1- percy

I feel the rough sidewalk beneath my shoes as I trudge up the empty street beside Grover and my girlfriend, Annabeth.

"Can you believe it?" I exclaim in frustration, still not ready to let it go. "That hot-headed war god had the nerve to make us retrieve his shield. Again. I'm getting a sense of déjà vu."

I hear Annabeth sigh as if she's just over everything at this point. I ranted a fairly large amount about a certain Ares on the long walk from Manhatten.

I know what you're thinking. Percy, if you hate the guy so much, why are you walking so far to get him his shield?

#1. he's a god.

If I didn't listen to him, I'd be a speck of dust within minutes. Come to think about it, I'm surprised he hasn't blasted me to death already.

Maybe Ares wants to use me as a pawn like all the gods do, or maybe he's just scared my dad will get mad if he hurts me.

Anyway, I'm getting off-topic.

#2. I need to get into college.

I know. College and godly quests don't seem related, but trust me, they are.

You see, the gods created a requirement, specifically for me, Percy Jackson. Lucky me. To get into college, I need three college recommendation letters from the gods, letters that can only be attained once I've done their little chores. Or quests, as the gods call them.

Luckily, Ares will make the second letter. That'll leave me with just one more letter needed.

"Me too," Annabeth admits. "but this isn't waterland, that's for sure."

I look up at the building in front of me. Aphrodite picked this date location, that's for sure. It looks abandoned (naturally), but in good condition, as if someone had just opened their shop and then got a sudden urge to move to London.

It's pink as far as the eye can see, with a dusty neon Love Shack sign nailed above the pink glass door. Even with the door partially closed, the flowery perfume is so strong it burns my nostrils.

"My eyes," I joke.

"I know," Annabeth replies. "It's too much."

Let's just say Annabeth isn't what you would call a fan of the color. I hear Grover's goat hooves clamp nervously on the concrete.

"I don't know, guys," he says. "I'm getting a bad feeling about this. It's... the smell."

Annabeth and I exchange an uneasy look.

"Do you smell monsters?" I ask.

Grover shakes his head uncertainly. "That's the thing. I don't smell anything."

I see a bit of worry on Annabeth's face. Then she blinks and it's gone, replaced with the brave, determined look I've learned to love.

"Let's just be careful," she says, her gray eyes sparkling in the sunlight.

I nod, my hand instinctively in my pant pocket, wrapping around Riptide.