Tempest (Percy Jackson)

eight

chapter eight: the god of war 

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They made it to Denver the next afternoon. It was as far as they could make it with the reward money they received from turning in Gladiola the poodle. They were starving, tired, and incredibly dirty. But they only had seven days until the solstice, and they couldn't afford to give up.

River had picked out the decaying flowers from her braids, only hanging onto the drooping hyacinth that was still tucked behind her ear. The sharpie drawings on her arms had faded into a gold mess and the painted sun on her calf had long since crusted off. But, somehow, she still managed to glow as she usually did and remain positive. It was almost infuriating to her friends how she could be so optimistic, but they didn't dare say a thing about it.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth suggested, "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"We can't use phones, right?" Percy asked.

"I'm not talking about phones."

"Ooh, we're gonna Iris message him," River clapped her hands together, "I love Iris messaging."

"We're gonna what message him?" Percy looked confused.

River hooked her arm through his to drag him behind the others, "Iris message. Iris is the rainbow goddess, but she also carries messages for the gods. And, she usually does the same for demi-gods too, if she's got the time. So, basically, you have to make a rainbow. Any way you can! A prism, a spray of water, etcetera, etcetera. Then you toss in a drachma as an offering, make your request for where you want to send the message, and there you go! It's super cool."

Percy nodded along, happy there was at least one person who was eager enough to explain these things to him.

Eventually, the group found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. They veered towards the farthest stall from the street, keeping their eyes open for any patrol cars. They were four adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car, any cop worth his doughnuts would figure they were up to no good.

"We're gonna do this here?" Percy asked as Grover took out the spray gun.

"It's seventy five cents. I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?" Grover grumbled.

"Don't look at me. The dining car wiped me out."

River dug through her pockets and picked out a quarter, "Here. Got one!"

"Excellent. We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping," Grover put in the quarters and set the spray knob to the 'fine mist' setting.

Annabeth held out her hand to Percy, "Drachma, please."

Percy dug one out and handed it over.

Annabeth raised up the coin, "O goddess, accept our offering."