Celestial - a Percy Jackson fanfic [BOOK ONE]

Chapter sixteen

We dug around in Ares's backpack and found some extra change. It was enough to get us to West Hollywood, but unfortunately, the bus driver seemed to recognize Percy and I when we were exiting at the Underworld address.

"You two remind me of something I saw on TV," he told us. "You guys child actors or something."

"Uh..." Percy stammered.

"We're stunt doubles," I responded for him, "So we often get that we look like actors."

"Oh!" The driver said. "That explains it."

We got off quickly and began to search for the DOA Recording Studios, which was an undercover name for the underworld. We walked for miles, not having any luck. It wasn't even in the phone book. Twice, we had to duck into alleys to avoid cop cars.

Percy stopped in his tracks in front of an appliance store, his eyes trained on a TV inside that was viewing an interview with his step-dad, Smelly Gabe. I stopped beside him, resting my arm on his shoulder to let him know that we were here for him. The step-dad was shedding crocodile tears, a blonde bimbo sitting next to him, patting his hand consolingly.

"My stepson took everything I cared about," Smelly Gabe said pitifully. "My wife... my Camaro... I-I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

The camera cut to, surprisingly, my dad. Well, my adoptive dad. My mother was obviously upset, her eyes red from crying and holding onto my father's arm like her life depended on it. It broke my heart.

"Please, Cleo, if you're hearing this, please come home," he begged and my heart just shattered. "We are so worried about you."

The camera was brought back to the interviewer, a woman with blonde hair who looked professional. "There you have it, America," She said. "Two families torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues is the main suspect in the disappearance of Sally Jackson and Cleo Miller. Let me show you again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover, and I talking to Ares outside of the Colorado diner.

"You can see Cleo over here, I believe she's wearing handcuffs," she gestured to me next to Percy. I wasn't wearing handcuffs, my hands were just resting behind my back. That was quite the jump to conclusions. "And who are these children in this photo? Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a a terrorist, or perhaps the brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

"I do not want to stay tuned," I pulled on Percy's elbow to bring him away from the appliance store. He looked angry enough to punch the glass out of the window. "They don't know what they're talking about. Everything will work out okay."

It eventually got dark, and we still could not find the DOA. We were from New York, so we have all seen some strange characters that come out to play at night. But let me tell you, the LA water must have crazy in it because these people were terrifying. Percy kept me close to him, sending anyone dirty glared if they looked at me wrong, and some of them were licking their gross chapped lips. We passed gangbangers, bums, and muggers, among other things.

As we hurried pass the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

Like idiots, we all stopped. I blinked, and suddenly, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had surrounded us - all white kids with expensive clothes. They looked like they were brats who went to a rich boarding school and liked to cause trouble.

I heard the click of Riptide being uncapped. This caused most of them to retreat, but their stupid leader walked forward with a switchblade.

Percy swung.