¹𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 ━ 𝗽. 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻

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⋆ ˚｡⋆ʚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ɞ⋆ ˚｡⋆
─── ❛ opening up ❜ ───

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 his shield at him. "you're a jerk."

isabella, annabeth and grover caught their breath.

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 isabella 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.

oh hell no.

"you're fucking kidding me?" isabella said with her eyebrows furrowed. i didn't risk my life for him to offer me a shitty truck.

ares turned to look at her, a daring look on his eyes and a smirk forming. "sorry princess." he said with a mocking tone. "your mom tried to get you a limousine but that wouldn't be fair, would it?"

isabella just stood there, feeling annabeth's hand rubbing her back trying to calm her down. she sighed and crossed her arms.

"i thought so."

ares snapped his fingers. the back door of the truck unlatched. "free ride west, punks. 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 percy.

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.

"i don't want your stu—" percy said.

"thank you, lord ares." grover interrupted, giving percy his best red-alert warning look. "thanks a lot."

percy gritted my teeth. reluctantly, he slung the backpack over his shoulder. isabella looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. the waitress who'd served them dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid ares might hurt them. she dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. she said something to him. he nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of the teens.

well, shit.

"you owe me one more thing." percy told ares, trying to keep his voice level. "you promised me information about my mother."

"you sure you can handle the news?" he kick-started his motorcycle. "she's not dead."

"what do you mean?"

"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?" percy asked.

"you need to study war, punk. hostages. you take somebody to control somebody else."