Son of Man (Percy Jackson OC)

[Mairon]

Disclaimer: I don't own the Percy Jackson universe.

Chapter One

The dinner horn sounded and he found himself walking towards the mess hall, just like Mr. D said he should.

His feet moved on autopilot. Left foot. Right foot. Repeat. Don't think about it.

Demigods.

This whole mess started because one of his parents, most probably his dad, should have known better than to mess around with mortals. Now Philip was here. Now his grandmother was—

He was paying for it, as had his grandmother, just a couple hours ago. What he thought would be a regular Monday, last one before the holidays, turned out to be a nightmare instead. To think he dreaded his report card results.

His steps took him away from the Big House, an austere mansion that somehow blended the classical Greek style with the American haunted house look.

The strange, frightening, impossible being that was playing cards in that house unsteadied him, pushed him to accept the impossible. What he would give to get back home, and to worry about school. He would have taken a hundred remedial lessons if it meant sitting at her kitchen table one more time.

Despite all of that, his stomach rumbled, so empty at the moment it was bordering on painful. He placed his hand over it, hoping to steady his hunger.

With slow steps he passed by two rows of large cabins.

Each seemed to be different, either in style, size or both. He knew each represented one major god from the ancient Greek pantheon. Pagan pantheon.

Connecting those larger-than-life cabins was a wide cobbled courtyard. In its center stood a large, openly burning flame, a young girl patiently tending to it.

He wondered how they paid for it all.

Lines of other kids, just like him, had started exiting those same cabins, ready for dinner. Some were appearing out of the woods and green fields. All of them went towards the mess hall.

He looked at the windows of the big three cabins, their windows dark and dull. No one was coming out of the largest three buildings that enclosed the large courtyard. For some reason he felt those three houses stood with a certain gravitas, sticking out even in this place.

Finally, after crossing the fields or the neatly packed dirt road they all reached their destination. Behind the marble columns that stood on the edge he glimpsed people going to their meals. Each one knew where they sat. In the center, much like in the courtyard below, stood a source of light and fire. A bronze brazier that was bigger than a bathtub.

"To the gods," he could hear the seated campers chant.

He clutched the rosary in his pocket, his hands trembling as the ocean chill settled over him. How many times had he watched her fingers move over them?

What happened to their apartment? The monster had torn through the living room. What would the landlord say when he saw it? Would he ever be able to come back?

As he passed he noticed some of the campers looking, and he could hear excited whispers from all sides. There were a hundred of them at most, some of them very young. Just little kids that looked out of place in the large hall.

The air was filled with the smell of venison, and potatoes and something sweet. His stomach growled again. How could he be hungry?

Some of the people weren't human, he noticed. A few figures with goat legs trotted around taking plates from flowery women that moved quickly and seemed to float. He already knew what they were, satyrs and nymphs. They were still a strange sight.

He stopped, took a breath and looked over. There. The table with most people, squeezed like sardines. His table for the moment, dedicated to the god Hermes, Mr. D had said.

He sat at the end.

He hadn't even sat down properly when he heard someone behind him say, "Hey there, you're Philip, right? Welcome to camp!"

Turning around he saw an older boy in an orange shirt. He could see he was in good shape.

"Hey, I am. Thanks," he said.

"No prob. I'm Luke," his face was friendly. "I'm going to be your camp counselor for now."

They shook hands, "For now?" He noticed a long scar running down the guy's face, next to his right eye.

Luke sat next to him. "Either until you're claimed or it turns out you're one of Hermes's brood," he said.

"I'm not sure what you mean, to be honest," Philip said with furrowed brows.

"I miss Chiron at moments like these," Luke murmured. "My dad is the god of travelers so that means he extends his hospitality to all campers." He continued, "So you are welcome to stay with us until you get determined."

Seeing his look he added, "Until you learn who your godly parent is, I mean."

Right. His godly parent. One of the Greek gods was literally his parent. The thought still felt impossible.

"How do you find out?" he said.

"When it happens, it's some kind of sign that tells your heritage." Luke picked at something on the table. "A glowing symbol above your head, usually."

"So it doesn't happen that often?"

Luke sighed, "Don't worry about it, it'll happen."

"Anyway, having a tough first day?" he continued. "Most campers do, and the majority of us didn't even believe the gods were real before we got here."

Philip hesitated, "It's not that I—" but he was cut off when people started getting up, plates in hands.

He didn't even take any food yet, and his glass stood empty next to his plate.

"Get ready." Luke passed him a couple of potatoes and a large beef cut before doing the same for himself.

"What are we doing?" Philip asked after his plate was full.

"We're giving the gods their due." Luke got up, lowering his voice. "Burnt offerings, I hear they like the smell." He led him to the brazier.

Philip stood behind him, watching people throw their food into the fire. One by one they approached, murmured a name, and watched their offerings consumed.

"Ares."

"Demeter."

"Hermes," Luke said and his food disappeared in a flash.

He was next.

The heat from the brazier was intense this close. Philip could feel sweat starting on his forehead. His heart was beating faster.

He could feel the weight of his grandma's rosary in his pocket.

They wanted him to make a sacrifice. To pagan gods.

His face probably betrayed something, because Luke's smile turned strained.

"Just think of a god you want to honor," Luke said. "It can be anyone, like my dad."

He could feel the heat of the fire on his face.

This was wrong. There was only one God, whatever they wanted him to believe. This worship they demanded was a sin. It broke the First of God's Ten Commandments, "You shall have no other gods before me."

"Come on, new kid." Luke said, "The food's getting cold."

"I can't," Philip said looking down at his feet.

"What's the holdup," a burly girl shouted and then belched. Her cabinmates snickered around her.

"Come on," someone cheered.

"Jesus," he blurted, his whole plate slipping, dumping everything into the fire.

Silence.

A satyr brayed.

"What did he say," someone whispered.

Luke was looking at him open mouthed, his eyes wide in surprise. "That wasn't exactly who I meant," he said.

He could feel his cheeks heating up.

"What was that, Paul?" Mr. D was looking at him from table 12. As was everyone else.

He was sweating, he noticed. The empty plate didn't feel any lighter in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Mr. D," he started, looking at the creature in front of him.

His eyes were violet, he noticed. He looked. Somehow his thoughts led him to dark fields filled with cries of ecstasy and woe. Hungry fires that burned just as they warmed. He didn't want to see. God, please.

He blinked.

"Let's not make a scene," the tubby god said, his lips on a can of Diet Coke. "I'm sure it was just an accident, right?" he turned to a satyr beside him who started nodding furiously.

He was breathing fast, looking at the blackened potatoes and sizzling meat in the fire. Waiting for what came next.

"Now, let's make a proper offering and get on with the evening," the god said. "I'm tired."

He was shaking. He looked at Luke, who started shuffling his own food on his plate.

"No," Philip said. "Stop."

Fork raised in one hand and the plate in the other, Luke looked him in the eyes, slowly moving his head, left to right, as if warning him.

"Are you going to test me, child?" Mr. D said quietly.

Everyone waited to see what would happen. A blond girl covered her face with her hands, head down, as if saying what an idiot. On the other side, the belching girl leaned in, head eagerly moving from him to Mr. D.

"With all due respect," he said, not looking the god in the face again.

"Sir."

"With all due respect, sir," Philip repeated. Took a breath. "I already made an offering."

Luke's face was beaded with sweat, "Sir, he just got here--"

"I don't care when Peter here arrived," the god said to Luke, then turned to Philip, "Make an offering to any of the Greek gods so that we can finally eat."

"I-I'm sorry,sir, but I can't."

"Why?," Mr. D scoffed. "You think that Nazarene carpenter is any better than us here?" He continued, "I'm older than his entire religion. I was getting drunk at symposiums when Abraham was still tending sheep."

Something in Philip rebelled at this treatment, and before he could stop himself he said, "I won't worship false gods."

Everyone stilled.

Luke took a step back with an apologetic expression. He could hear nothing except the soft crackling of the fire.

"False gods," Mr. D mused, and after a moment turned to address the rest of the camp, "You hear everyone, your parents are false gods."

Slowly, testing the waters, some campers began to boo, quietly at first and then with more energy. Soon they were shouting, but the belching girls' table was the loudest. They were thumping their fists on the table, like they were preparing for battle.

Mr. D looked at him, "Those false gods are making sure you can survive in this camp. They're the ones providing everything here free of charge." His cherubic face sneered.

"How'd you like to leave their protection and face the monsters at the gates, hmm?" He continued. "Become a martyr?"

Philip could feel tears threatening to start spilling. He was barely standing keeping his head up. This day was getting worse by the moment. Why did he come here?

"I have faith," he almost choked. "In the Father, Son and the Holy Spirit."

Mr. D looked ready to explode, but deflated after a moment. "I need a drink," he said, pinching his nose. There was thunder in the air.

Turning, he barked, "Calm down," at the rousing campers.

Everyone did.

Then, in a somewhat softer voice Mr. D said, "I know you just lost your grandmother, and I'm going to give you a pass this time."

He continued, "But you better start giving some respect around here because we gods have long memories and don't forgive easily."

Philip nodded, closed his mouth, then opened it again. "I'll remember that," he said, "sir," he added.

"Now get to eating," he waved his hand in dismissal and turned to the satyr next to him. The god finally sat down, soft drink in hand, and didn't look at him again.

Head bowed he returned to his table. Every step felt too loud against the stone floor. He could feel eyes on him from every direction—some curious, some hostile, some pitying. His hands were shaking. He tried to stop them but couldn't.

When he finally reached the Hermes table, he realized he'd been holding his breath. He felt strangely exposed, like they just read out his diary in front of everyone.

The silence after Mr. D's order had been slowly lifting, and now he could hear more murmuring. This was definitely not a typical night.

He finally sat down, his legs felt like jelly. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his plate. Luke's portion was still there.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

"Hell of a first day," Luke said finally. He was sitting across from him, studying Philip's face.

"That was really stupid," he said after a while, but his voice was gentle. "Mouthing off to a god like that. You're lucky he didn't turn you into a dolphin."

"A dolphin?" He finally managed to say.

"He's known for that," Luke said.

He opened his mouth but that same rude girl interrupted, standing and shouting from her table, "You're dead, newbie." Her cabin mates laughed.

"That's Ares for you," Luke said after a while. "Her name's Clarisse, daughter of the war god." He looked Philip over, "Be ready for a fight. Hope you can take her on."

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply and felt for the rosary in his pocket. His grandma was with God now, he just knew. Even if it wasn't her fault, he felt abandoned. Like Christ in the garden of Gethsemane. But after a moment he opened his eyes.

He looked up at Luke, "Thank you for sticking up for me," he said. "Others are probably afraid to get close now." He could feel them watching him, and Luke as well, to see what he would do.

"Nah, man," Luke said. "We all have our quirks." He continued, "And what you just did, standing up to Mr. D," he said. "That took guts."

Philip laughed for the first time that day. "I'm not usually like that."

Luke smirked, "I'm not convinced." He added, "Do you know where to go? You're in our cabin. Hope you love sleeping on the floor."

"I'll sleep in that lava lake after the day I had," Philip said.

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Luke said. "Come on, let me show you."

---

Edit: Slowed down the pacing a bit in certain places.

 

[trashtaker]

Can't wait for him to ask St.Michael for protection.

Considering that the author did respect the Abrahamic faith there.

 

[Subhelios]

Ok, I'm down for this. Let's ride this train wreck all the way to hell.

 

[Sr.Kuzma]

Vale, , I'm down for this. Let's see how far this goes.