𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter 18

13
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Race you to Hades?

  They spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

  They weren't attacked once, but (y/n) didn't relax. He felt that they were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. The once flaming whips from the Fury rested harmlessly against his thigh, tied to his belt loops like a common pendant hanging from his pants.

  The rest of the day he spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because he had a really hard time sitting still) or looking out the windows.

  Once, he spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught his eye and waved.

  (y/n) looked around the passenger car, but nobody else had noticed. The adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines.

  Another time, toward evening, he saw something huge moving through the woods. He could've sworn it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. Its fur glinted gold in the evening light. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone.

  Their reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. They couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so they dozed in their seats. (y/n)'s neck got stiff. He tried not to shift in his sleep, since Cyrus was sitting right next to him and he didn't want to be a bother.

  Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking them both up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off.

  There was a mess of four Half-bloods and a Hellhound, trying to get his shoe back on before any of the other passengers noticed.

  "So," Annabeth asked Cyrus, once they'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help?"

  "What do ye' mean?"

  "When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, “I won't help you.” Who were you dreaming about?"

  Cyrus was reluctant to say anything, but he gave in and told them about the dreams he'd had.

  Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

  "He offered me mother in trade. Who else could do that?"

  "I guess ... if he meant, “Help me rise from the Underworld.” If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"

  Cyrus shook his head, wishing he knew the answer.

  Maybe Grover sensed his emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

  Annabeth readjusted his cap so it covered his horns. "Cyrus, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—"

  "This time?" (y/n) asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"

  Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."