Charmolypi

Chapter 88

As soon as they exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left the group on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, Tyson and Percy still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.

"Oh, dear gods," James groaned, as he banged his head on the table in despair.

"Oh, man," said Annabeth, looking at the battle raging on the hill.

What worried Percy most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried him was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice-gruff and familiar.

"It's Clarisse," Annabeth said. "Come on, we have to help her."

Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on Percy's "to do" list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time they'd met she tried to introduce his head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of Ares, and he'd had a very serious disagreement with her father last summer, so now the god of war and all his children basically hated Percy's guts.

"Do you want to save camp, or not?" Marlene complained, not liking how hesitant Percy was.

"I understand his hesitance to help him, Marls," Sirius said, side-eyeing his brother.

Still, she was in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horsehair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk. Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder.

Percy uncapped his ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until he held the bronze sword Anaklusmos in my hands. "Tyson, stay here. I don't want you taking any more chances."

"No!" Annabeth said. "We need him."

Percy stared at her as if she'd gone crazy. "He's mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can't-"

"Is he really still insisting that Tyson is a mortal?"

"I can't believe he's actually that dense..."

"Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus himself. We can't fight them without Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We'll get burned to a crisp."

"What?"

"SPF 50,000?"

"Who was Medea again?"

"Medea's what?"

Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed. "I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my nightstand at home. Why didn't I bring it?"

"Probably because you rushed out of your house like your life depends on it...?"

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not going to let Tyson get fried." Percy said, thinking he left no room for argument.

"Percy-"

"Tyson, stay back." Percy raised his sword. "I'm going in."

Tyson tried to protest, but Percy was already running up the hill toward Clarisse, who was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide-and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.