Alacrity

XIV.

XIV. Percy (Unfortunately) Doesn't Use Shaving Cream on Ares

The Coast Guard picked the four up, and luckily they were too preoccupied to wonder just how four teenagers in street clothes had managed to get into the middle of the bay. They dropped them off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around their shoulders, and Lyra led the four down to the beach, hating the way the sand clung to her soaked shoes.

"I don't believe it," Annabeth said miserably, watching the city burn, "We went all that way-"

"It was a trick," Lyra grumbled, and she glanced at Percy's blue bag - the one Ares had given them. Lyra didn't quite believe it was Ares; he didn't seem smart enough, to her, to come up with such a strategy. He typically favored brawn over anything else.

Percy nodded, "The prophecy was right. You shall go west and face the god who has turned. But it wasn't Hades - he didn't want a war among the Big Three. Somebody else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades' helm and framed me because I'm Poseion'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."

Lyra frowned - her brains began to feel scrambled. After spending the entire quest believing it was Hades who had somehow stolen the Master Bolt, she didn't quite know what to think.

Grover shook his head, looking just as confused as Lyra felt, "But who-"

"Who wins if the gods go to war?" Percy asked, "Ares - the god of war. I'll bet he's watching us right now - ah, of course." Percy pointed down the beach, where the god waited for them. He stood beside his motorcycle, dressed in a black leather duster. The god gave them a wicked grin, hoisting an aluminum baseball bat over his shoulder, "Hey, kid. You were supposed to die."

Lyra had to cover her snicker, and they died out under Percy's brief glare. He gritted his teeth at Ares, "You tricked me. You stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares' grin widened, just as deadly as Hades, but in a more gruesome and bloodthirsty way, that made Lyra's stomach churn when his gaze briefly landed on her, "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?" Percy demanded, "Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice." Lyra didn't think the daughter of Ares would do something like that, and from the howl of laughter that her father gave, he didn't think so either, "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."

Ares pulled a ski cap out of his pocket and placed it on the handlebars of his bike - it transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet. Lyra shuffled nervously - the helm of darkness. Ares grinned, "Now, where was I? 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."

"You need therapy," Lyra shook her head, "You all need serious family therapy."

Ares shrugged, "It's the best kind of war. Always the bloodiest - nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

"Yeah, they'll argue in therapy, too," Lyra muttered, and her voice became much quieter under Ares' hot glare as she continued, "Probably more cathartic, and I'd say a whole lot healthier. But," she laughed nervously, "my opinion doesn't matter. I'm going to stop talking. Lyra, shut up."

Annabeth elbowed her harshly in the side for good measure, and Lyra wisely shut her mouth, sinking under Ares' gaze. Percy stomped his foot in the sand to attract the god's attention, "You gave me the backpack in Denver. The master bolt was in there the whole time."