My life as a shapeshifter

The second clue

Hey guys! So it's been quite a while, but this chapter is extra long, so it's ok. I'm trying to get chapters of this length. This one was about 2000 words.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: All Percy Jackson stuff belongs solely to Rick Riordan.

Everything was going smoothly, more or less. That is, until Simba decided that he had had enough of ferrying us around. Apparently he even called Nico some pretty nasty names. I think it was the anemoi setting his mane on fire that did it. So, basically, we were now stuck at camp half-blood. Well, unless we wanted to walk to Manhattan. And before you wonder what Percy and co. were doing all this time, they were having dinner, oblivious to the fact that we were in trouble. Thad had refused to call for their help, being the stubborn idiot that he was. I heard every hero had a fatal flaw, and I'm pretty sure that was his.

"Fine! We'll go ask them for advice!" Thad finally caved in and agreed to going to Percy or Chiron for help, albeit reluctantly.

When we finally managed to pull Percy out of the mess hall, he seemed pretty happy for someone who was just dragged out in the middle of dinner, especially since there were a bunch of guys hanging out around his table, congratulating him on, and I quote, saving the world.

"No transport? Oh, that's an easy one," he chuckled and replied, "call the Gray Sisters." The Gray Sisters? Weren't they in the myth of Perseus? How could they help us out? They don't provide a demigod taxi service or anything, do they? Apparently Percy must have realised that we were, to say the least, confused, as he continued, "Yeah, I was pretty confused too. Look, I'll help you summon them." Uh oh. Summoning anything didn't sound good.

For once, I was right. Unfortunately.

We walked out of camp onto the road, where Percy summoned the Gray Sisters.

"Anakoche,harma epitribeios!" He spoke in Ancient Greek, and though I wasn't really familiar with the language, I somehow knew exactly what he was saying. Stop, Chariot of Damnation! Okay, that sounded bad. Really bad. He then proceeded to throw a drachma into the tarmac, and instead of staying on the road like it should have, if anything was normal in my life these days, it sank into the road and disappeared. I braced myself, waiting for some weird thing, monster, whatever, to come and whisk us away.

Nothing happened.

Or so I thought, until the tarmac darkened and turned into a rectangular pool of bubbling red liquid, not unlike blood. A smoky grey car rose from the parking lot sized muck. And when I say smoky grey, I mean literally. It looked like it was made out of smoke, like someone conjured it out of bonfire smoke or something.id be lying if I say I wasn't freaked out by the car. Or was it a taxi? Because there's absolutely no way I am getting in that "car". The words GRAY SISTERS were printed on the door near me. That must have been what Percy said. The Gray Sisters. But I don't see anyone, much less a bunch of sisters-

"Passage?" The passenger window of the cab rolled down and an old woman looked out of the window. She was pretty much completely grey. She had a mop of frizzy grey hair that covered her eyes, and her skin was greyish. She spoke, or I should say mumbled, in a weird way, like she was somewhere else.

"Three to Manhattan," Percy said to her, giving us an 'I got this' look. I slowly opened the cab's back door and slid inside, finding the seats completely firm. Smoky grey and lumpy, but nevertheless firm. It was just like any other taxi, except there wasn't just one driver...there were three. They were all crammed in the front seat of the car, and they all pretty much looked the same. Bony hands, dirty grey dresses and stringy hair. If I'm not wrong, they were Anger, Tempest and Wasp. The one driving (I didn't know who was who) floored the accelerator and the car lurched forward, instantly travelling at speeds I didn't think possible for a car, much less one made out of smoke. A voice came from the speaker behind me: Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up! Looking around, I found a large black chain going from one side of the cab to the other. Thad and handed one end of the chain to me and I reluctantly buckled up. The fact that the so called seat belt was a chain made me worried. What kind of driving made one that desperate?