LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE . . . pjo

VIII.

THE WAR GOD was waiting for them in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," Percy said.

Ares gave him a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

Percy shoved Ares's shield at him. "You're a jerk."

Mia, Annabeth, and Grover caught their breaths.

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 Mia 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.

Mia said, "You're kidding me."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, Starfury. 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 her.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of them, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

"Now I get to look pretty!" Mia grinned.

Percy said at the same time, "I don't want your lousy—"

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving Percy his best red-alert warning look. "Thanks a lot."

Mia slung the backpack over her shoulders. She tried to ignore the gazes she felt on her by the mortals.

"You owe me one more thing," Percy told the war god. "You promised me information about my mother."

"You sure you can handle the news?" Ares kick-started his motorcycle. "She's not dead."

"What do you mean?" Percy demanded.

"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."

Ares laughed. "Oh yeah? See you around, kid."

Percy's fists clenched. "You're pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues."

Behind Ares's sunglasses, fire glowed."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.