WINGED ₁

6

A COAST GUARD BOAT PICKED THEM UP, BUT THEY WERE TOO BUSY TO KEEP THEM FOR LONG, OR 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 Madeleine and her friends 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. After reaching dry land, they stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. All four of them had varying expressions of despair (Percy), disbelief (Annabeth), and exhaustion (Grover). Madeleine herself was feeling a mixture of all three.

"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..." Annabeth interrupted. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry..."

Percy swallowed and looked at Madeleine. "You said you knew, about losing a parent. What did you mean?"

Madeleine wanted to answer, but suddenly she felt her own throat swell up with emotion. She just shook her head. "I don't know."

Percy's shoulders slumped, but he took a deep breath. "The prophecy was right. '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."

Madeleine followed his gaze. Standing there, as if waiting for them, was a guy in a black leather duster and sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"That is not my father," Madeleine murmured. She felt the opposite around him as she had around Hades. She didn't want anything to do with him. She wanted to turn and walk away.

"I know," Percy growled under his breath. "I've met Ares children. You're too nice."

"Hey, kid," Ares said, sounding genuinely pleased. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," Percy said loudly. "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?" Percy demanded. "Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

The idea seemed to amuse the god. "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 and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.