¹POCKET FULL OF POSIES. p. jackson

𝐗𝐈𝐕. godly beat-down

pocket full of posies
❛ xiv. godly beat-down ❜

━━━━━ A COAST GUARD boat picked the four up, but they were too busy to keep them for long, or to wonder how four kids in street clothes had gotten out onto the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.

              They dropped the questers off at the Santa Monica pier with towels around their shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people.

              Their clothes were sopping wet, even Percy's, who was supposed to be waterproof. Josephine figured it had something to do with blending in as best they could; a kid getting pulled out of the water completely dry would definitely raise some eyebrows. The son of Poseidon was also barefoot because he had given his shoes to Grover. It was better that than the Coast Guard had to wonder why one of them was barefoot than wonder why one of them had hooves. Again, blending in as best they could.

              After reaching dry land, they stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. Josephine felt as if she had just come back from the dead—which she practically had. Her heart felt heavy with guilt, confusion, and with questions. Percy had to choose between saving his mother or his friends, a choice no kid should ever have to make.

              "I don't believe it," Annabeth said. "We went all that way—"

              "It was a trick," Percy said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

              "Hey," the daughter of wisdom warned.

              "You get it, don't you?" Percy asked.

              She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."

              "Well, I don't!" Grover huffed. "Would somebody—?"

              "Percy," Josephine started, "I'm sorry about your mother ..." She stopped short when Percy looked away from her, knowing he was trying to hide his emotions. Josephine reached out and squeezed his shoulder, patting him before letting her arm drop back to her side.

              She understood. No matter how much time had passed by, it never got easy talking about Beau Easton. Percy had his mother right there, and then he lost her again; that was a wound that was going to sting for a long, long time.

              "The prophecy was right," he said. "Four shall go west and face the god who has turned. But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war between the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helmet, 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?"

              Josephine gave the satyr a pointed look. "Perhaps the God of War?" she offered.

              Percy looked down the length of the beach, scowling heavily. He had stopped in his tracks, looking at a figure standing near the beach.

              There Ares was, waiting for them, 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 Percy. "You were supposed to die."

              "You tricked me," Percy spat. "You stole the helmet and the master bolt."