In which, Adira Lancaster falls in love with her rival, Percy Jackson
OR
he falls in love with her first, unknowingly.
She only seemed to think about a rivalry. Nothing else. Zilch. Nada. Zip.
-disclaimer- I do not own the Percy Jackson Books, or an...
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A Coast Guard boat picked us up, but they were too busy to keep us for long, or to wonder how three 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 us off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around our shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people. Our clothes were dripping wet. When the Coast Guard boat had appeared. My shoes made a glonk sound whenever I stepped. Percy gave his shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of us was barefoot than wonder why one of us had hooves.
After reaching dry land, we stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. I felt as if I'd just come back from the dead—which I had.
"I don't believe it," I said. "We went all that way—"
"It was a trick," Percy said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."
"Hey," I warned. "Gods get pissed easily, Seaweed Brai-"
"You get it, don't you?" Percy looked at me, and I was getting red from his offending my aunt's name.
Eventually, I dropped my eyes, my anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."
"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody—"
"Percy ..." I said. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry...."
"The prophecy was right," Percy said. "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?"
"Grover's right," I began. "Which God is known for wars, and has the ego big enough to even create one."
I stopped in my tracks, looking down at the beach.
"Gee, let me think," Percy sarcastically asked, looking at him.
There he was, waiting for us, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.
"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see us. "You were supposed to die."
"You tricked me," Percy said. "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."
