𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter 25

20

Fire Against Fire And Water

A Coast Guard boat picked the group up, but they were too busy to keep them for long, or to wonder how five kids in street clothes and a dog had gotten out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.

They dropped the group 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 and Cyrus's. Percy was also barefoot, because he'd given his shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of them was barefoot than wonder why one of them had hooves.

After reaching dry land, they stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise.

(y/n) felt as if he'd just come back from the dead-which he had. His backpack was heavy with Zeus's master bolt. His legs were even heavier as he tried to think of how they'd get to Olympus in time.

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

"It was a trick," (y/n) said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

"Hey," she warned.

"You get it, don't you?"

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

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody-"

"Percy ... Cyrus..." Annabeth said. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry...."

They pretended not to hear her.

"The prophecy was right," (y/n) said. ""You shall go west and face the god who has turned." But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed us because we've Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And we'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

(y/n) stopped in his tracks, looking down the beach. "Oh, bollocks, let me think."

There he was, waiting for the group, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its head-light turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see (y/n). "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked us," (y/n) said. "You stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power-that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

The idea seemed to amuse the war god. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this ..."

From his pocket he took out a ski cap-the kind bank robbers wear-and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."