Prophesied Powder, PJO

5.7

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Chapter 52
A Change of Hearth

Volume 5: The Last Olympian

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Pat and Percy walked into one of the bedrooms on the upper levels of the hotel, where Pat properly sat between the two queen beds and crossed his legs. 

"Do you know how to do this?" Percy asked, skepticism clear in his voice. It might've been concern.

"'Course not," Pat said honestly.

"You know, you've had these powers for, like, two years." Percy reminded him.

Pat shot him a dirty look, "You try having them," He said, "Tell me if you figure it out."

"So, what are you going to do?" Percy asked.

"I..." Pat bit his lip, then took a slow, deep breath, "am going to focus."

"Like, meditating?" Percy sounded unsure.

Pat's jaw twitched in irritation, "Do you have a better idea?"

"I just don't think Apollo is into meditation," Percy pointed out, "He's a little too 'surfer boy', less 'monk'." 

"Fine," Pat pushed himself onto his feet, "What would a surfer boy do when trying to reveal fate with his future-reading powers?"

"Um," Percy had an audible frown on his face as he thought. "Surf?"

"Well, I'm not doing that!" Pat complained.

Percy cringed, "I didn't say to! What's your problem, man?"

"What's my pr-" Pat cut himself off, aghast. He made sure he was facing Percy so that the son of Poseidon could see his slack-jawed shock before he tightened his face in anger, "Annabeth was stabbed, my siblings were slaughtered, and Pallas has been kidnapped by Kronos for who knows what!" He marched toward Percy, green smoke steaming from his eyes, "An army that out-numbers us twenty-to-one is marching toward us tonight to kill us like pigs. Clarisse-" Pat's voice caught, trying to ensure that he wouldn't derail things in a way that Apollo would smite him for. However, at that moment, he could hardly care what Apollo wanted from him. His voice was tight, his fists curled, "Kronos is torturing Pallas for all we know, and I need to do something about it. So, if that's meditation, or-or-or whatever I need to do to figure out the answers, then I'm gonna do it, Percy!"

"You said Prometheus was wrong!" Percy shot back, "You gave me hope, Pat!"

Pat bit down, his teeth grating in a way that would make his mother faint. "He is wrong. I know it," Pat said, "I just need to see it. I need to see him." 

He turned his back to Percy, an anxious pace in his step as he nervously crossed the room toward the window. The mounted air conditioner blew in his face, but he could hardly feel it. Behind him, Percy crossed the room, watching the city at his side.

"You love Annabeth," Pat murmured quietly, "And don't deny it. Child of Aphrodite, remember? What would you do if it was her?"

Percy was silent for a minute. "I'd save Olympus."

"Don't bullshit me, Jackson."

"I'd get her back." He said again.

Pat hummed in agreement, his brow creased in worry.  

"What do you know?" Percy asked. "Don't prophets normally offer counsel or something?"

"I'm not good at giving advice, Percy," Pat said, something that both of the boys knew from their years of fighting monsters together. "I know...that the feeling that people will die hasn't left my stomach since last summer. It's the same feeling I got at the Battle of the Labyrinth."