This Dark Night ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹

―vii. prophecies, offerings, and sword-fights (oh my!)

NAOMI PROBABLY WASN'T A CHILD OF HERMES, but according to Luke, she was a good distraction when it came to shoplifting.

Once Luke had (illegally) procured sleeping bags and toiletries for Percy and Naomi, they made their way back to the cabin, where everybody was talking and roughhousing, waiting for dinner.

Percy was sitting in his designated spot on the floor, holding his Minotaur horn to his chest like a teddy bear, which just reminded Naomi that her teddy bear—Rusty, whom she'd stolen from a toy drive at the orphanage when she was five—was still tucked into her bed.

If Darren hadn't already stolen it and ripped it up in her absence, of course.

Naomi was worried Percy would be mad at her for running away, but as soon as she sat down in her own designated spot on the floor, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"'M fine," she mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers. "Sorry I ran off."

Percy shrugged. "Probably for the best," he said. "I drenched one of the Ares girls with toilet water."

Naomi's eyes widened. "What?"

Before Percy could explain, Luke plopped down next to them, setting the stolen goods down. "Sleeping bags and toiletries for the newbies," he declared.

"Thanks," Percy said.

"No prob. Naomi helped." Noticing Percy's sullen expression, he bumped him with his shoulder. "Tough first day?"

"I don't belong here," Percy said. "I don't even believe in gods."

"Yeah," Luke said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier."

"So your dad is Hermes?" Percy asked.

Luke pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, using it to scrape the mud from the stables off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes."

"The wing-footed messenger guy."

"That's him," Luke confirmed. "Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you two are here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors."

"You ever meet your dad?" Percy asked.

"Once." He didn't elaborate, though Naomi wasn't too surprised—from their conversation in the stables, he seemed about as thrilled about having a god for a parent as Naomi.

Still, he looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it. The campers here, they're mostly good people. Like I told Naomi—we're family. We take care of each other."

Percy nodded slowly. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' Naomi too. She said I should talk to the Oracle... what was that all about?"

Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies."

"What do you mean?"

His face twitched around his scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... somebody special came to the camp."

"Somebody special," Percy repeated.

"Don't worry about it, guys," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for, and two in the same day? She got her hopes up, that's all. Now, come on, it's dinnertime."