Something grabbed me from behind.
Annabeth yelled, “Ouch!”
Grover!
In midair, he had grabbed me by the shirt, and Annabeth by the arm, and was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but Annabeth and I had all the momentum.
“You’re too heavy!” Grover said. “We’re going down!”
We spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall.
We smashed into a photo-board, Grover’s head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Annabeth and I tumbled to the ground, banged up but alive. Ares’s shield was still on my arm.
Once we caught our breath, Annabeth and I got Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives. I looked back at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was subsiding. Our boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates.
A hundred yards away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on us, the spotlights in our faces.
“Show’s over!” I yelled. “Thank you! Good night!”
The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love’s exit pool. I wondered if Olympus had gone to a commercial break, or if our ratings had been any good.
I hated being teased. I hated being tricked. And I had plenty of experience handling bullies who liked to do that stuff to me. I hefted the shield on my arm and turned to my friends. “We need to have a little talk with Ares.”
WE TAKE A ZEBRA TO VEGAS
The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.
“Well, well,” he said. “You didn’t get yourself killed.”
“You knew it was a trap,” I said.
Ares gave me a wicked grin. “Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV.”
I shoved his shield at him. “You’re a jerk.”
Annabeth and Grover caught their breath.
Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.
“See that truck over there?” He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. “That’s your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas.”
The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.
I said, “You’re kidding.”
Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. “Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here’s a little something for doing the job.”
He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me.
Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.
I said, “I don’t want your lousy—”
“Thank you, Lord Ares,” Grover interrupted, giving me his best red-alert warning look. “Thanks a lot.”
I gritted my teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but I didn’t want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, I slung the backpack over my shoulder. I knew my anger was being caused by the war god’s presence, but I was still itching to punch him in the nose. He reminded me of every bully I’d ever faced: Nancy Bobofit, Clarisse, Smelly Gabe, sarcastic teachers— every jerk who’d called me stupid in school or laughed at me when I’d gotten expelled.
I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who’d served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us.
Great, I thought. We’ll make the papers again tomorrow.
I imagined the headline: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAW BEATS UP DEFENSELESS BIKER.
“You owe me one more thing,” I told Ares, trying to keep my voice level. “You promised me information about my mother.”
“You sure you can handle the news?” He kick-started his motorcycle. “She’s not dead.”
The ground seemed to spin beneath me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That’s metamorphosis. Not death. She’s being kept.”
“Kept. Why?”
“You need to study war, punk. Hostages. You take somebody to control somebody else.”
“Nobody’s controlling me.”
He laughed. “Oh yeah? See you around, kid.”
I balled up my fists. “You’re pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues.”
Behind his sunglasses, fire glowed. I felt a hot wind in my hair. “We’ll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you’re in a fight, watch your back.”
He revved his Harley, then roared off down Delancy Street.
Annabeth said, “That was not smart, Percy.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god.”
“Hey, guys,” Grover said. “I hate to interrupt, but . . .”
He pointed toward the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying their check, two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.
“If we’re taking the zoo express,” Grover said, “we need to hurry.”
I didn’t like it, but we had no better option. Besides, I’d seen enough of Denver.
We ran across the street and climbed in the back of the big rig, closing the doors behind us.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like the world’s biggest pan of kitty litter.
The trailer was dark inside until I uncapped Anaklusmos. The blade cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three of the most pathetic zoo animals I’d ever beheld: a zebra, a male albino lion, and some weird antelope thing I didn’t know the name for.
Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he obviously didn’t want to eat. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra’s mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a stupid silver birthday balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL!
Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur.
“This is kindness?” Grover yelled. “Humane zoo transport?”
He probably would’ve gone right back outside to beat up the truckers with his reed pipes, and I would’ve helped him, but just then the truck’s engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and we were forced to sit down or fall down.
We huddled in the corner on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at him sadly. Annabeth was in favor of breaking the cages and freeing them on the spot, but I pointed out it wouldn’t do much good until the truck stopped moving. Besides, I had a feeling we might look a lot better to the lion than those turnips.
I found a water jug and refilled their bowls, then used Anaklusmos to drag the mismatched food out of their cages. I gave the meat to the lion and the turnips to the zebra and the antelope.
Grover calmed the antelope down, while Annabeth used her knife to cut the balloon off his
horn. She wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra’s mane, too, but we decided that would be too risky with the truck bumping around. We told Grover to promise the animals we’d help them more in the morning, then we settled in for night.
Grover curled up on a turnip sack; Annabeth opened our bag of Double Stuf Oreos and nibbled on one halfheartedly; I tried to cheer myself up by concentrating on the fact that we were halfway to Los Angeles. Halfway to our destination. It was only June fourteenth. The solstice wasn’t until the twenty-first. We could make it in plenty of time.
On the other hand, I had no idea what to expect next. The gods kept toying with me. At least Hephaestus had the decency to be honest about it—he’d put up cameras and advertised me as entertainment. But even when the cameras weren’t rolling, I had a feeling my quest was being watched. I was a source of amusement for the gods.
“Hey,” Annabeth said, “I’m sorry for freaking out back at the water park, Percy.”
“That’s okay.”
“It’s just . . .” She shuddered. “Spiders.”
“Because of the Arachne story,” I guessed. “She got turned into a spider for challenging your mom to a weaving contest, right?”
Annabeth nodded. “Arachne’s children have been taking revenge on the children of Athena ever since. If there’s a spider within a mile of me, it’ll find me. I hate the creepy little things. Anyway, I owe you.”
“We’re a team, remember?” I said. “Besides, Grover did the fancy flying.”
I thought he was asleep, but he mumbled from the corner, “I was pretty amazing, wasn’t I?”
Annabeth and I laughed.
She pulled apart an Oreo, handed me half. “In the Iris message . . . did Luke really say nothing?”
I munched my cookie and thought about how to answer. The conversation via rainbow had bothered me all evening. “Luke said you and he go way back. He also said Grover wouldn’t fail this time. Nobody would turn into a pine tree.”
In the dim bronze light of the sword blade, it was hard to read their expressions.
Grover let out a mournful bray.
“I should’ve told you the truth from the beginning.” His voice trembled. “I thought if you knew what a failure I was, you wouldn’t want me along.”
“You were the satyr who tried to rescue Thalia, the daughter of Zeus.”
He nodded glumly.
“And the other two half-bloods Thalia befriended, the ones who got safely to camp . . .” I looked at Annabeth. “That was you and Luke, wasn’t it?”
She put down her Oreo, uneaten. “Like you said, Percy, a seven-year-old half-blood wouldn’t have made it very far alone. Athena guided me toward help. Thalia was twelve. Luke was fourteen. They’d both run away from home, like me. They were happy to take me with them. They were . . . amazing monster-fighters, even without training. We traveled north from Virginia without any real plans, fending off monsters for about two weeks before Grover found us.”
“I was supposed to escort Thalia to camp,” he said, sniffling. “Only Thalia. I had strict orders from Chiron: don’t do anything that would slow down the rescue. We knew Hades was after her, see, but I couldn’t just leave Luke and Annabeth by themselves. I thought . . . I thought I could lead all three of them to safety. It was my fault the Kindly Ones caught up with us. I froze. I got scared on the way back to camp and took some wrong turns. If I’d just been a little quicker . . .”
“Stop it,” Annabeth said. “No one blames you. Thalia didn’t blame you either.”
“She sacrificed herself to save us,” he said miserably. “Her death was my fault. The Council of Cloven Elders said so.”
“Because you wouldn’t leave two other half-bloods behind?” I said. “That’s not fair.”
“Percy’s right,” Annabeth said. “I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you, Grover. Neither would Luke. We don’t care what the council says.”
Grover kept sniffling in the dark. “It’s just my luck. I’m the lamest satyr ever, and I find the two most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia and Percy.”
“You’re not lame,” Annabeth insisted. “You’ve got more courage than any satyr I’ve ever met. Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. I bet Percy is really glad you’re here right now.”
She kicked me in the shin.
“Yeah,” I said, which I would’ve done even without the kick. “It’s not luck that you found Thalia and me, Grover. You’ve got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You’re a natural searcher. That’s why you’ll be the one who finds Pan.”
I heard a deep, satisfied sigh. I waited for Grover to say something, but his breathing only got heavier. When the sound turned to snoring, I realized he’d fallen sleep.
“How does he do that?” I marveled.
“I don’t know,” Annabeth said. “But that was really a nice thing you told him.”
“I meant it.”
We rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at me hopefully.
Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts.
“That pine-tree bead,” I said. “Is that from your first year?”
She looked. She hadn’t realized what she was doing.
“Yeah,” she said. “Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year’s beads. I’ve got Thalia’s pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now that was a weird summer. . . .”
“And the college ring is your father’s?”
“That’s none of your—” She stopped herself. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“No . . . it’s okay.” She took a shaky breath. “My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn’t have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her. . . . That’s a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Yeah, well . . . the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for that school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn’t want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn’t even make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood.”
“You think you’ll ever try living with your dad again?”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Please. I’m not into self-inflicted pain.”
“You shouldn’t give up,” I told her. “You should write him a letter or something.”
“Thanks for the advice,” she said coldly, “but my father’s made his choice about who he wants to live with.”
We passed another few miles of silence.
“So if the gods fight,” I said, “will things line up the way they did with the Trojan War? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?”
She put her head against the backpack Ares had given us, and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?”
I couldn’t think of an answer for that. Fortunately I didn’t have to. Annabeth was asleep.
I had trouble following her example, with Grover snoring and an albino lion staring hungrily at me, but eventually I closed my eyes.
* * *
My nightmare started out as something I’d dreamed a million times before: I was being forced to take a standardized test while wearing a straitjacket. All the other kids were going out to recess, and the teacher kept saying, Come on, Percy. You’re not stupid, are you? Pick up your pencil.
Then the dream strayed from the usual.
/> I looked over at the next desk and saw a girl sitting there, also wearing a straitjacket. She was my age, with unruly black, punk-style hair, dark eyeliner around her stormy green eyes, and freckles across her nose. Somehow, I knew who she was. She was Thalia, daughter of Zeus.
She struggled against the straitjacket, glared at me in frustration, and snapped, Well, Seaweed Brain? One of us has to get out of here.
She’s right, my dream-self thought. I’m going back to that cavern. I’m going to give Hades a piece of my mind.
The straitjacket melted off me. I fell through the classroom floor. The teacher’s voice changed until it was cold and evil, echoing from the depths of a great chasm.
Percy Jackson, it said. Yes, the exchange went well, I see.
I was back in the dark cavern, spirits of the dead drifting around me. Unseen in the pit, the monstrous thing was speaking, but this time it wasn’t addressing me. The numbing power of its voice seemed directed somewhere else.
And he suspects nothing? it asked.
Another voice, one I almost recognized, answered at my shoulder. Nothing, my lord. He is as ignorant as the rest.
I looked over, but no one was there. The speaker was invisible.
Deception upon deception, the thing in the pit mused aloud. Excellent.
Truly, my lord, said the voice next to me, you are well-named the Crooked One. But was it really necessary? I could have brought you what I stole directly —
You? the monster said in scorn. You have already shown your limits. You would have failed me completely had I not intervened.
But, my lord—
Peace, little servant. Our six months have bought us much. Zeus’s anger has grown. Poseidon has played his most desperate card. Now we shall use it against him. Shortly you shall have the reward you wish, and your revenge. As soon as both items are delivered into my hands . . . but wait. He is here.
What? The invisible servant suddenly sounded tense. You summoned him, my lord?
No. The full force of the monster’s attention was now pouring over me, freezing me in place. Blast his father’s blood—he is too changeable, too unpredictable. The boy brought himself hither.