Chapter Text
The mortal world feels unfamiliar now. Like someone had gone into his room and “cleaned up.” Everything is back on its shelves and now he can’t find anything anymore. The most immediate change is that Gabe is gone. No more shitheads harassing his mom. Mom is happier too. She smiles more now. She hums while she cleans, something Gabe would have yelled at her for.
The biggest change is how different New York looks now. Percy discovered that harpies run that weird donut shop on 5 th Avenue. He’s passed by moving golden statues near Broadway, and nymphs in the park. There’s another layer of reality stacked on top of the world he knows, and he’s fascinated by it.
It's why he walks by the East River after class. The nereids of the East River love to hold swimming contests and play beach volleyball—or maybe river volleyball? Seeing them after class reminds him that Camp Half Blood wasn’t a dream he made up because he has no friends.
Well. That’s not exactly true. He has Tyson. But Tyson refuses to go to the East River Greenway with him, so Percy is alone in his endeavor.
Today, the nymphs are nowhere to be seen. Percy guesses even nymphs have rest days. He’s just about to leave when water splashes onto the hem of his pants.
“Hey! Handsome! Mister Blue Shirt!”
Percy pulls out Riptide from his pocket and peers down. There’s a nereid staring at him. Her skin is translucent and ripples slightly when she moves.
Percy points to himself. “Uh, me?”
“Yeah! You’re the one who watches us, right?”
Percy’s ears turn red. They noticed him? He wants to die right now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he explains. “I just pass this way before going home, I can stop—”
“No, don’t.” The nereid clutches the rails blocking off the river. “Personally, I don’t mind. I’m too pretty to not have admirers. This isn’t about that though. Can I ask for a favor?”
“Um…” Percy’s had enough of quests, but the nereid looks so hopeful. He hopes this doesn’t take him too long. “What do you need?”
“Can I borrow five drachmas, please?”
Percy blinks. “What?”
“Five drachmas,” Euphemia repeats. “I’ll pay you back within the week.”
“You’re asking me for money? I don’t even know your name!”
The nereid flips her hair. “Hello person-whose-name-I-also-don’t-know. I’m Euphemia. Can I borrow five drachmas, please?”
Percy kneels so he’s closer to her level. Is this a scam? Did the Greeks have ancient MLMs too? “Uh, what for?”
“My sisters and I subscribed to Olympus Weekly, but apparently,” she says, scornfully, “they ‘don’t deliver to bodies of water’ and now we’re trying to get a separate delivery via Hermes Express.”
“Won’t the magazines get wet?” he asks.
Euphemia huffs. “We pay extra for waterproofing.” She looks at him desperately. “We're five drachmas short. Can I please borrow some from you?”
“Um,” he says. Percy shouldn’t be this surprised. If Medusa could sell statues, why couldn’t nereids subscribe to Olympus Weekly? “Let me check.”
His pockets are empty of drachmas, and there aren’t any in his bag or wallet either. Percy shrugs. “Sorry. Haven't gotten any.”
Euphemia sighs. “That’s alright. Thanks anyway.”
Percy feels sorry for her. Impulsively, he says, “if you like, I can pick it up for you.”
She looks at him in shock. “Really?”
“Yeah, sure.” Well, now that he made the offer, there was no way he was taking it back. That would be so embarrassing. “Olympus Weekly, right? I can give it to you on Mondays, after classes.”
“Would you? Thanks a lot, person-whose-name-I-still-don’t-know.”
Percy laughs. “It’s Percy. Percy Jackson.”
“Well, Percy Jackson, here’s what you need to do.”
Apparently there’s a bookstore in Herald Square, for those who can’t go to Olympus. The books are in Ancient Greek, the patrons are nymphs, satyrs, and harpies. Percy loves it. There’s mythical in the mundane and mundane in the mythical, and it makes him feel less homesick.
Percy returns that Monday with a box of magazines, as promised. The nereids meet him at the same spot. It’s hard not to see them, with Euphemia waving her arms like a mad man.
“Percy!” she calls. “Over here!”
Before Percy can second-guess his actions, he leaps over the railings and jumps into the river. The nereids scream in shock. Percy smiles and presents the magazines to them. “Delivery?”
The nereids stare at him. “You’re actually dry!”
“Yeah, I’m waterproof.”
That answer horrified the nereids for some reason, except for Euphemia, who smiled coyly at his direction. “You don’t seem like a nymph,” she says.
“I’m not,” Percy replied. He holds up the magazines. “I have your deliveries?”
Apparently, Euphemia’s sisters had no idea she had roped him into delivering their magazines. All she said was that she found someone who could “take care of it,” which makes him sound like a mobster. It’s a huge surprise for them when they find out how he got roped into helping them, and try to find shells or something to repay him.
Percy declines. It's his mom’s birthday and Percy wants to make her dinner before she returns home. The nereids look nervous. One glares at Euphemia, and asks him to return soon. Percy doesn’t understand why they—he’s going to bring them next week’s copy as well. Still, he promises.
He saves a couple of slices of his mom’s birthday cake for them. He has to guard his bag from Matt Sloan, but he gives a slice to Tyson. Tyson eats the cake like a starving man. Apparently, he’s never eaten cake before. Percy offers to bring him some more in the future.
The nereids have never eaten cake either. Their eyes light up when they see the plastic container.
“You’ve never had cake?” Percy blurts out. He hands one of Euphemia’s sisters—Myrrhine maybe?—a paper plate.
Myrrhine sighs. “It’s not like we need to eat, or can bake cakes in rivers,” she says. “And I wouldn’t eat cake if they threw it in the river. That’s incredibly degrading.” Her sisters agree with her. She takes a bite and her face lights up. “This is fantastic!”
“Thanks,” Percy replies. “The frosting was a mess to make.”
Euphemia gasps. “You made this for us? Really?”
Myrrhine shoots her a look. “Do not ask him to make us more cake. He’s already bringing us our magazines.”
“I wasn’t going to!”
Myrrhine turns back to him. “We’re very thankful, my Lord, and would be happy to repay you. What would you like in return?”
“What?”
“The deliveries. The cakes. What do you want in return for those?”
“Nothing?”
Myrrhine looks apprehensive. “Nothing? You truly want nothing or no one in return? No errant promises my foolish sister made to you?”
Percy frowns. Was this a trick question? “I’m doing all this because I want to,” he says slowly. “Not because I want something.”
Myrrhine looks at him, pensively. Percy wonders if he’s committed some Greek faux pas, but the nereid slowly shakes her head.
“That is a relief to hear, my Lord.” Beside her, her sisters look at him with a new expression in their eyes. Tension seems to sweep off their shoulders. “Please forgive me for asking, but…are you a god?”
“What?” Percy stares at her. “No. Why’d you think that?”
“We…” Myrrhine blushed blue. “We noticed you watching us and assumed you were a nymph, but Rhoxane said you looked like Lord Poseidon, and you smelled so strongly of the sea so we…assumed you were him.”
“You thought I was my dad?”
“Your father?” Recognition bleeds into Myrrhine’s face. “You are the demigod who returned the Master Bolt.”
“That’s me.” Percy looks at the nereids in surprise. “You all thought I was my dad? But I’m thirteen?”
The nereids looked embarrassed. “Age doesn’t mean anything when you can shapeshift,” one answers.
Percy turns to Euphemia. “I told you my name was Percy Jackson?”
Euphemia shrugged. “Fake name.”
Which, okay. Fair. “Hang on. You thought I was my dad, and you tried to borrow five drachmas from me?”
Myrrhine looks horrified. “You what?”
Euphemia huffs. “I wanted to make an impression. Get your attention a bit. How was I supposed to know you weren’t Lord Poseidon?”
“That is not how you approach gods, sister,” Myrrhine snaps.
“Yeah, what the fuck Pheemy?” another nereid asks.
The nereids descend into argument, as if Percy isn’t having a mild crisis. They invite him to return, and Percy does the next week, then a few days later, until he’s visiting the East River two or three times a week.
They’re a lot more open with him once they realize he isn’t his father. The nereids let him hang out with them after class. Some days it’s volleyball or water polo, other days the sisters show him around the riverbed. On Mondays, they go over Olympus Weekly together. Percy learns more about the inner workings of the Greek world from listening to their gossip than he did at camp.
After an incident with Matt Sloan, Percy learns that Rhoxane is studying underwater healing, and he becomes her favorite test subject, ahem, “patient”. Euphemia enjoys roping him in her schemes, and it's driving Myrrhine to a stress ulcer. Corinna is trying to convince him to bring her a cow she can keep as a pet. As embarrassing and nosy as his sisters can be at times, Percy loves their company. He wonders if this is what having cabinmates is like.
Some days, Percy feels like he’s taking advantage of their kindness, so he tries to help however he can. He redirects currents to bring trash into the large trash bags he brings. Being able to manipulate water is handy, he thinks to himself. He’s able to collect more trash in an afternoon than some volunteer groups do in a day.
The biggest problem, he finds out, isn’t so much the plastic, but the chemicals in the water. Plastic can be picked up and thrown out. The toxic waste seeps into the water and turns the nereids green and gray. Sometimes they have coughing fits and vomit out black sludge. On those days, he sits by their side and makes sure they’re alright the best he can.
It’s not until Euphemia collapses one day that Percy decides to do something about it. If he can sense it, then he can control it, right? He ignores the sisters’ calls, and swims away from Rhoxane’s makeshift clinic to the most polluted part of the river. The toxic waste feels different from the water. It’s more slimy and viscous. Control doesn’t come instinctively and Percy loses his grip the first few times.
Percy snarls. He latches onto as much waste as he can, and pulls . A few gallons of chemicals separate from the water. They converge into their own gross little pile, and Percy wills them to disappear.
Percy wonders how the gods make it look easy. His head feels like it’s been hit by a sledgehammer. But a portion of the river is clean now. If he keeps working, he thinks, then maybe the river will be clean by the time Euphemia wakes up. He grabs another segment of sewage, then another, until his body feels like it's a welcome mat for monster trucks. On his fifth round, his body gives out. He sinks to the bottom, unconscious.
He wakes up to a wolfish face staring at him. The being in front of him is huge. Percy bet he would only reach his thigh if he stood up. It looks like a wolf if wolves could get scurvy. He has flippers for his hands and feet, which remind Percy of a seal. What was it with the Greeks and weird animal combinations? Did the gods have nothing better to do than play monster mashup?
Percy reaches for his pen, but that only makes the being in front of him huff. “No need, little godling,” he says. “I mean you no harm.”
Percy looks around. He’s laying on a large flat rock, like the ones Rhoxane uses in her makeshift clinic. He can sense they’re still in the East River, but in an area he’s never been to before. There’s no fish, no nymphs, just him and this being. The wolf-seal-spirit is scrutinizing him.
“Hello?” Percy asks.
“You look like your father,” says the wolf-seal-spirit. “You feel like him too. Not exactly like him, but you’ve got that spark.”
Percy doesn’t know what to say to that. “Spark?” Was his dad the god of firecrackers too?
The wolf-seal-spirit makes a weird howling noise, like he’s laughing. “Not firecrackers, boy.” Gods, did he say that out loud? “Divinity. It’s within you.”
“Uhh, thanks?” Percy says. “I mean, I’m a halfblood so that’s like half god, right?”
The wolf-seal-spirit snorts. “Alright. You can say that.” He hands Percy a small square of ambrosia. “I was worried about you at first. I mean, a young man with my daughters? You must understand our suspicion, especially since we thought you were your father.”
“You’re the East River,” Percy realizes.
The East River gives him a wolfish grin. “You see any other gods hanging around these parts? Not including us, of course.” Percy tries to protest, but the god raises his hand. “Yes, yes, not a god. Sure kid, whatever. The point is I wasn’t gung-ho about you, but your little display today changed my mind.”
“Display?” Percy remembers the poisoned waters. “Euphemia? Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” the East River says. He looks appraisingly at Percy. “Her sisters took care of her. They said you stormed off in a hurry. Half an hour later, they find you collapsed at the bottom of the river.”
Percy winces. “I didn’t mean to worry them. I just…” Gods, that was really thoughtless of him. He should have been there for Euphemia.
“You just cleaned up four thousand gallons of toxic sludge because my daughter collapsed from poisoning?”
Percy’s eyes widen. “Four thousand?” No way.
“I think I can feel what goes on in my own waters, boy,” the East River says. “I was quite surprised too. Toxic waste isn’t exactly your father’s domain, but you’ve managed to make it your own. Plus you’ve been collecting trash. You have my thanks.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Percy protests. “I couldn’t just do nothing after Pheemy collapsed.”
The East River snorts. “Humble too. How did we ever mistake you for your father?” He shakes his head. “Nevertheless, I would be remiss in my duties as god and host if I didn’t reward you.” His palm glows with a green light before dying down, revealing his backpack. “Here. It got wet when you fainted.”
Percy takes his bag. It’s completely dry. “Thank you, sir.”
“Yes, we wouldn’t want that happening again.” The East River points somewhere vaguely west. “Swim that way and my daughters will meet you at the boat.”
“Boat?”
The East River nods. “It’s yours now. You can use it as a storage locker or however else you choose.”
“Wait, you’re giving me a boat?”
“And my blessing.” The East River looks at him intently. There is a crackle of divinity around him. He speaks solemnly, and the waters bend at the sincerity of his words. “The East River shall always welcome you. You may continue as you wish, you may hold your gatherings here, but do not forget us.”
Percy blinks and the god is gone. He looks around, confused. The waters are dark. It must be evening then. He grabs his back and swims in the direction the god pointed at. If he’s fast enough, he can check on his sisters before heading back home.
Gods, Mom was going to kill him.
Euphemia is fine, to Percy’s relief. She looks haggard but that doesn’t stop her from strutting on the deck like she owns it. “Nice boat, Perce!” she greets. “Makes me wish Father got me one too!”
The rest of the nereids' worry disappear when they see him. Myrrhine looks too relieved to succumb to her daily stress ulcer. “Percy! Are you alright?”
“I’m fine! Your dad healed me!” Percy climbs on board and hugs each of them. The nereids tell him what happened while he was gone. Apparently, they tried to follow him but lost his trail. They felt the shift in the river’s pollution a few minutes later, just before Euphemia woke up. Soon after, their father appeared, Percy cradled in his hands.
Percy tells them about his conversation with their father. They look excited at the fact that Percy now has blanket permission to visit them. Percy puts the East River’s more cryptic words out of his mind.
He decides to inspect the boat. It’s a monohull sailboat. Percy can feel his control over the ship. The sails move at his command, the boat stops when he tells it too. He wonders if this is a son-of-Poseidon thing or an added feature from the East River.
The next week, Percy meets the nereids at his boat. He has his box full of Olympus Weekly magazines. The teaser on the cover says that Hera might have a new baby bump, which is apparently noteworthy, but he knows it's the type of thing his sisters will eat up.
They aren’t alone when he reaches the boat. There’s a dolphin, frantically chattering to the nereids. Percy can hear it begging to see him.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
The dolphin turns to him. “My Lord!” it says. “Please, I beg for your assistance! My calf is stuck in a fishing net downstream.”
Percy helps her, of course. The nereids help him. The net isn’t too hard to detangle and soon enough, the two dolphins reunite with their pod.
After that, word spread across the life that Percy took requests. Some come to him asking for help. Beached whales, porpoises caught in fishing nets, even mermaids with hangnails.
Others just like to visit. Percy tries to make his boat a welcoming space. The nereids teach him how to harvest algae and catch worms, snails, and insects to feed his guests. He has jars of creepy crawlies on the boats. It’s a bit disgusting, but his sisters teach him to enjoy it. He’ll never admit though he was the one who pushed Rhoxanne’s face into the mud that one time. Nope.
When Annabeth brings him and Tyson to camp that year, Percy calls a few fish at the beach and asks them to pass a message to the river. He hopes his sisters understand his abrupt leave. He doesn’t want them to worry.
“I’ll be back after the summer,” he says. “Tell my sisters not to worry.” Percy can feel the power in his promise. Even miles away at camp, he can feel his boat. It thrums against his skin, reassuring him that everything is fine. The fish turns to deliver his message and Percy relaxes. He remembers the East River’s words all those months ago.
Do not forget us.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “I won’t.”