LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE . . . pjo

VIII.

MIA DIDN'T FEEL like a hostage, strangely enough. Eurytion walked alongside her and her friends with his club across his shoulder. Orthus the two-headed dog growled a lot and sniffed at Grover's legs and shot into the bushes once in a while to chase animals, but Eurytion kept him more or less under control.

They walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. It must've been close to a hundred degrees, which was a shock after San Francisco. Heat shimmered off the ground. Insects buzzed in the trees. Before they'd gone very far, Mia was sweating like crazy, even with just a tank top and jean shorts on. Flies swarmed them. Every so often they'd see a pen full of red cows or even stranger animals. Once they passed a corral where the fence was coated in asbestos. Inside, a herd of fire-breathing horses milled around. The hay in their feeding trough was on fire. The ground smoked around their feet, but the horses seemed tame enough. One big stallion looked at Percy and whinnied, columns of red flame billowing out his nostrils. Mia stifled her laugh.

"What are they for?" Percy asked.

Eurytion scowled. "We raise animals for lots of clients. Apollo, Diomedes, and . . . others."

"Like who?" Mia asked.

"No more questions."

Finally they came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above them was a big ranch house — all white stone and wood and big windows.

"It looks like a Frank Lloyd Wright!" Annabeth said.

Mia guessed that Annabeth was talking about some architectural thing, but Mia was too tired to care. They hiked up the hill.

"Don't break the rules," Eurytion warned as they walked up the steps to the front porch. "No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't make any comments about the boss's appearance."

"Why?" Percy asked. "What does he look like?"

Before Eurytion could reply, a new voice said, "Welcome to the Triple G Ranch."

The man on the porch had a normal head, which was a relief. His face was weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had a slick black hair and a black pencil moustache like villains have in old movies. He smiled at them, but the smile wasn't friendly; more amused, like, oh boy, more people to torture!

Mia didn't ponder that very long, though, because then she noticed his body . . . or bodies. He had three of them. His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests, one to either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits. The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very beefy legs, and he wore the most oversized pair of Levis Mia had ever seen. His chests each wore a different color Western shirt — green, yellow, red, like a stoplight. She vaguely wondered how he dressed the middle chest, since it had no arms. She was mostly trying not to laugh.

The cowherd Eurytion nudged Percy. "Say Hello to Mr. Geryon."

"Hi," Percy said. "Nice chests — uh, ranch! Nice ranch you have."

Mia let out a snort. She couldn't help it.

Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico di Angelo came out of the glass doors onto the porch. "Geryon, I won't wait for—"

He froze when he saw them. Then he drew his sword. The blade was sort of like Mia's; fully Stygian Iron, except that her blade was half-steel.

Geryon snarled when he saw it. "Put that away, Mr. di Angelo. I ain't gonna have my guests killin' each other."