a story as endless as the ocean . pjo / allie jackson

1.5 las vegas' most normal hotel and casino

1.5 If I Were to Let Temptation Control Me Just a Little Bit More, the Entire World Would've Ended 

The war god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he drawled. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," I accused, glaring venomously at him.

Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

"I always look good on T.V. And movie screens. And magazines. And large stages," I bit back. "Why do you think Hollywood has kept me around so long?"

Luke shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk."

I grabbed his arm, a silent warning, and Grover gulped but Ares just smirked. He grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. Then 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.

My head snapped back around to stare incredulously at him. "You're kidding. I'd rather do the whole raise-my-hand in Walmart tactic."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "I just gave you a free ride west, punkette. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to me. Inside were fresh clothes for all of us, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

"We don't want your lousy—" Luke began hotly.

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving us both his best red-alert warning look. I wasn't really against the arrogant deity getting told exactly what this little thing called reality was, but Grover wasn't as suicidal as Luke and I apparently were. Maybe it was a demigod thing. We knew we'd probably die before turning twenty so we amputated our survival instincts.

"Thanks, bub."

I gritted my teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but I didn't want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, I slung the backpack over my other shoulder, succeeding only in making myself look stupid with two backpacks.

I knew my anger was being caused by the war god's presence, but I was still itching to punch him in the nose. He reminded me of every bully I'd ever faced: Nathan Bobofit, Gabe, random dudes on the streets anywhere I went who would catcall me, the gross people on the internet.

I looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served us dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of us. I could've turned away, but I put on my best terrified look and stared right into that camera's lens.

"Thanks," I turned from terrified to angry in half a second, thanking Danny for all those years of forcing me to perfect my facial expressions.

Ares smirked at me, fiery eyes flickering over me with a familiar look. I shifted uncomfortably. "I'll see you around Punkette," he declared, slinging his leg over his overly-large bike. "Never know, what with your looks, give it two months and maybe I'll sweep you off your feet once you become legal."