The Shadow Summoner | Book Three - PJO Universe

seven

BIG EARS

"Don't judge." Piper warned as she reemerged from her room.

Ariana would not have dreamed of it.

Piper McLean looked fashionably ready for combat in her bright white Converses, distressed skinny jeans, leather belt, and orange camp tee.

Braided down one side of her hair was a bright blue feather-a harpy feather, if she wasn't mistaken.

Strapped to her belt was a triangular-bladed dagger like the kind Greek women used to wear-a parazonium.

Hanging from the other side of Piper's belt...Ah. Ariana guessed this was the reason she felt self-conscious.

Holstered to her thigh was a miniature quiver stocked with foot-long projectiles, their fletching made from fluffy thistles. Slung across her shoulder, along with a backpack, was a four-foot tube of river cane.

"A blowgun!" Apollo cried. "I love blowguns!"

Meg scratched her neck. "Are blowguns Greeky?"

Piper laughed. "No, they're not Greeky. But they are Cherokee-y. My Grandpa Tom made this one for me a long time ago. He was always trying to get me to practice."

Grover's goatee twitched as if trying to free itself from his chin, Houdini-style. "Blowguns are really difficult to use. My Uncle Ferdinand had one. How good are you?"

"Not the best," Piper admitted. "Nowhere near as good as my cousin in Tahlequah; she's a tribal champion. But I've been practicing. Last time Jason and I were in the maze" -she patted her quiver-" these came in handy. You'll see."

Grover managed to contain his excitement. Ariana understood his concern. In a novice's hands, a blowgun was more dangerous to allies than to enemies.

"And the dagger?" Grover asked. "Is that really-?"

"Katoptris," Piper said proudly. "Belonged to Helen of Troy."

Apollo yelped. "You have Helen of Troy's dagger? Where did you find it?"

Piper shrugged. "In a shed at camp."

Before Apollo could get too offended (he seemed to always get offended over the smallest things) Ariana spoke. "It was a nice shed."

"Does the blade still show visions?" Apollo asked.

"You know about that, huh?" Piper shook her head. "The visions stopped last summer. That wouldn't have anything to do with you getting kicked out of Olympus, would it, Mr. God of Prophecy?"

Meg sniffed. "Most things are his fault."

"That," Ariana grinned, "I'll have to agree with."

"Hey!" I said. "Er, moving right along, Piper, where exactly are you taking us? If all your cars have been repossessed, I'm afraid we're stuck with Coach Hedge's Pinto."

Piper smirked. "I think we can do better than that. Follow me."

She led them to the driveway, where Mr. McLean had resumed his duties as a dazed wanderer. He meandered around the drive, head bowed as if he were looking for a dropped coin.

His hair stuck up in ragged rows where his fingers had raked through it.

On the tailgate of a nearby truck, the movers were taking their lunch break, casually eating off china plates that had no doubt been in the McLeans' kitchen not long before.

Mr. McLean looked up at Piper. He seemed unconcerned by her knife and blowgun. "Going out?"

"Just for a while." Piper kissed her father on the cheek. "I'll be back conne teace. Don't let them take the sleeping bags, okay? You and i can camp out on the terrace. It'll be fun."