Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔
┏━━━━ ★ ━━━━┓ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓬𝔂 𝓙 ┗━━━━ ★ ━━━━┛
The smell of the barbecue just made him even angrier. His friends were being held hostage, Anastasia was unconscious after getting hit over the head with that stupid club. And they were having a barbecue. The fact it smelt so good was even more annoying.
The deck was set up for a party. Streamers and balloons decorated the railing. Geryon was flipping burgers on a huge barbecue cooker made from an oil drum. Eurytion lounged at a picnic table, picking his fingernails with a knife. The two-headed dog sniffed the ribs and burgers that were frying on the grill. Tyson, Grover, Annabeth, and Nico all tossed in a corner, tied up like rodeo animals, with their ankles and wrists roped together and their mouths gagged. Anastasia was leaning against Annabeth, also tied up but not gagged.
He was getting sick of seeing her like that.
"Let them go!" Percy yelled, still out of breath from running up the steps. "I cleaned the stables!"
Geryon turned. He wore an apron on each chest, with one word on each, so together they spelled out: kiss—the—chef. "Did you, now? How'd you manage it?"
Impatiently, he told him about the naiad, then the seashells.
He nodded appreciatively. "Very ingenious. It would've been better if you'd poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter."
"Let my friends go," Percy said. "We had a deal."
"Ah, I've been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I don't get paid."
"You promised!"
Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. "But did you make me swear on the River Styx? No you didn't. So it's not binding. When you're conducting business, sonny, you should always get a binding oath."
Percy drew my sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to Grover's ear and bared its fangs.
"Eurytion," Geryon said, "the boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him."
Eurytion studied Percy. He did not like his odds against him and that huge club.
