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The god of war was waiting for the kids in the diner parking lot. "Well, well," he said as they approached him. "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."
Rory felt her face burn. The gods had actually watched them? She glanced at Percy, who was looking at her.
He shoved Ares' shield at him. "You're a jerk."
Annabeth and Grover caught their breath. Rory would have been nervous too if she wasn't so angry and embarrassed.
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 LA, with one stop in Vegas."
The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia:
Kindness International: Humane Zoo Transport Warning: Live Wild Animals
Percy stared blankly at it. "You're kidding."
Ares snapped his fingers and the back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. 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, who peeked inside.
He scowled. "I don't want your lousy—"
"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving Percy his best red alert warning look. "Thanks a lot."
Percy gritted his teeth. There was nothing any of them could do to calm him down. It was just Ares' nature — riling everyone up until they wanted to punch someone. Clarisse had a similar power, except most people just wanted to punch her.
Looking back at the diner, Rory saw the waitress who had served them dinner was watching them 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 and he nodded, holding up a little disposable camera and snapping a picture of them.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
"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?" Ares kick-started his motorcycle. "She's not dead."
