Aven Wilson has never once been happy. Thanks mom.
To this date, she is the only known daughter of Akhlys, goddess of misery and poison, and, oh boy, can you tell. It's hard to stick around her, and Aven doesn't blame the people that avoid her gaze...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▬▬▬𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖦𝖮𝖣 𝖮𝖥 𝖶𝖠𝖱 𝖶𝖠𝖲 𝖶𝖠𝖨𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖴𝖲 𝖡𝖠𝖢𝖪 𝖨𝖭 the diner parking lot where he'd left us.
"Well, well," he said. He was gloating, I realized. "You didn't get yourself killed."
"You knew it was a trap," Percy said.
Ares gave us a wicked grin. Well, it was more like he gave Percy a grin. He never even glanced at me.
"Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."
Percy shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."
I blanched. Annabeth and Grover caught their breath.
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 L.A., with one stop in Vegas."
The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which I could read only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.
And that was it. No brutal zap and suddenly you're a mole rat! None of that. Ares just . . . moved on.
Percy said, "You're kidding." I agreed–I wasn't eager to ride all the way to Los Angeles in the back of a semi-truck full of semi-wild animals.
Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."
