Lightnings Twin (Male OC X Pjo/Hoo)

Bull fighting. pt 2

Bulls why did it always have to be bulls. First it was the Minotaur. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls—bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn’t bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.

As soon as we 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 us on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, Tyson and me still in our burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.

Annabeth: “Oh, man,”

She was looking at the battle raging on the hill.

What worried me most weren’t the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried me 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. The poison was eating away at the very magic that thaila had died for.

One of the heroes: “Border patrol, to me!”

A girl’s voice—gruff and familiar.

Border patrol? It had gotten that bad? I knew I shouldn't of went hunting for those damn Emposas.

Annabeth: “It’s Clarisse, Come on, we have to help her.”

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 his hands.

Percy: “Tyson, stay here. I don’t want you taking any more chances.”

Annabeth: “No! We need him.”

Percy: “He’s mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can’t—”

Annabeth: “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.”

Percy: “Medea’s what?”

Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed.

Annabeth: “I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my night-stand at home. Why didn’t I bring it?”

I’d learned a long time ago not to question Annabeth too much.

Percy: “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not going to let Tyson get fried.”

Annabeth: “Percy—”

Percy: “Tyson, stay back.”

He raised my sword.

Percy: “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.

Unfortunately, Clarisse could only muster six campers. The other four were still running around with their helmets on fire. Annabeth ran toward them, trying to help. She taunted one of the bulls into chasing her, then turned invisible, completely confusing the monster. The other bull charged Clarisse’s line.