❦𝓕𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓒𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓮❦ - 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓬𝔂 𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓸𝓷

𝒳𝒳𝒱. 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝒸𝓎 𝐹𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝒜𝓇𝑒𝓈

𝒜 Coast Guard boat picked them up, but they were too busy to keep the quartet for long, or to wonder how four kids in street clothes had gotten out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.

They dropped the three demigods and the satyr off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around their shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people.

Their clothes were sopping wet, even Percy's (apparently since he's the son of Poseidon, unless he wanted to, he couldn't get wet). Percy was barefoot because he'd given his shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of them was barefoot than wonder why one of them had hooves.

After reaching dry land, they stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. Zoe felt as if she'd just come back from the dead - which she had.

"I don't believe it," Annabeth said. "We went all that way-"

"It was a trick," Percy said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

"Hey," she warned.

"You get it, don't you?"

She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody-"

"Percy..." Zoe said. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry..."

Percy pretended not to hear her.

"The prophecy was right," he said. "'You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

Percy stopped in his tracks, looking down the beach. "Gee, let me think."

The god of war was waiting for them, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see them. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," Percy said. "You stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power, that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

Clarisse may be a bitch, but she would never hurt camp. Who did he use?

The idea seemed to amuse him. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this..."

From his pocket he took out a ski cap - the kind bank robbers wear - and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three - way slugfest going."