BY fates design

Grey sisters

Percy and Annabeth's discussion continued while Cassiopeia took to entertaining Tyson. Sighing, she dug through her bag until she found something for the boy, however, all she could produce that might entertain him were an oat bar, some spare parts that Jake had left with her, and a fidget toy. Handing them over, she watched as the giant became fixated on the spare parts, fiddling and messing with them.

Sirens wailed outside the alley as a police car raced by. "We don't have time for this," Annabeth said. "We'll have to talk in the taxi." She gently grabbed Cassiopeia's arm to get her attention.

"You're always on the run from the cops, aren't you?" James looked towards the demigods. He wished his daughter wasn't involved in any of that, but he knew she had no real choice in the matter.

"A taxi all the way to camp?" Percy cringed, "you know how much money-"

"I've got it." Cassiopeia assured him. For a second he had forgotten she was there, she was quieter than usual. That worried him.

"What about Tyson?" He hesitated, the image of escorting his giant friend into Camp Half Blood playing through his head. He dreaded to think of the meltdown that would follow the bullies at the training camp for demigods. However the cops were still looking for them.

"We can't just leave him," he argued, "he'll be in trouble too." He looked to Cassiopeia for help. She too looked towards Annabeth expectantly, nodding her head subtly.

"Yeah," Annabeth looked grim. "He'll have to come with us. Now come on." The way she said it bothered Percy greatly but it wasn't really the time for arguments.

"What's wrong with Tyson?" Remus asked anxiously.

"There is nothing wrong with Tyson." Cassiopeia defended, "he's just a little different."

They turned the corner of Thomas and Trimble, Annabeth began to fish through Cassiopeia's bag for something. Muttering to herself, she kept digging.

She looked worse than Percy had realised, they both did. Annabeth had a cut across her chin. Twigs and grass were tangled in her hair as if she had spent many nights out in the open and the slashes across her jeans looked suspiciously like claw marks.

Cassiopeia on the other hand seemed to have a slight limp and a blood stain trickled down her arm. Her long black waves were up in her usual bun but sticks and leaves were tangled into it.

"Where you ok?" Euphemia asked worriedly, looking over to her granddaughter. Cassiopeia smiled, nodding her head.

Sirens wailed all around them and he was sure that it wouldn't be long now before more cops cruised by. "Found one. Thank the gods." Annabeth pulled out a golden drachma, the currency of Mount Olympus.

"Annabeth," Percy said, "New York taxi drivers won't take that."

"Anakoche," she shouted in Ancient Greek, "Harma epirubeios!" As had become normal for Percy, the moment she spoke in the dead tongue, he somehow understood it. She had said, stop chariot of Damnation!

She threw the drachma into the street where it sunk into a bubbling red liquid instead of the tarmac. From the oozing spot in the road a car erupted forth.

"Whoa!" The hall marvelled at the appearance of the vehicle.

It was a smoky grey taxi, that looked as though it was made entirely of the toxic gas. Printed on the side was the name Gray Sisters - though the demigod's dyslexia made it nearly impossible to read.

The passenger window was rolled down and an old lady with a mop of grizzly hair stuck her head out. She spoke in a weird mumbling way, "passage? Passage?