SEQUAL TO EVERYWHERE EVERYTHING
BOOK TWO OF THREE !!!
Mitchell didn't expect to wake up from a nightmare, only to find himself in a real one. When he finds Percy's bed empty in the middle of the night, he freaks out.
Mitchell will do whatever it tak...
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THE GOLD WINGS WERE SOMETHING MITCHELL did not miss seeing. If anything, he prayed that his mother would get rid of them. They were far too bright and golden for him. He was okay with Nike's glittering sleeveless dress and her piled-up braids of dark hair circled with a gilded laurel wreath.
His mother's expression was wide-eyed and a little crazy, like she'd just had twenty espressos and ridden a roller coaster, but that bothered Mitchell only slightly. Although, he could easily deal with the gold-tipped spear pointed at Leo's chest.
But those wings—they were polished gold, right down to the last feather. Mitchell could admire the intricate workmanship, but it was too much, too bright, too flashy. If her wings had been solar panels, Nike would've produced enough energy to power Miami.
"Lady," Leo said, "could you fold your flappers, please? You're giving me a sunburn."
"What?" Nike's head jerked towards him like a startled chicken's. "Oh . . . my brilliant plumage. Very well. I suppose you can't die in glory if you are blinded and burned." She tucked in her wings. The temperature dropped to a normal hundred-and-twenty-degree summer afternoon.
Mitchell glanced at his friends. Frank stood very still, sizing up the goddess. His backpack hadn't yet morphed into a bow and quiver, which was probably prudent. He couldn't have been too freaked out, because he'd avoided turning into a giant goldfish. Hazel was having trouble with Arion. The roan stallion nickered and bucked, avoiding eye contact with the white horses pulling Nike's chariot. As for Percy, he held his magic ballpoint pen like he was trying to decide whether to bust out some sword moves or autograph Nike's chariot.
Everyone was eyeing Mitchell, waiting for him to do something, anything, to get his mother to put that spear away and help them. But he couldn't. He was frozen.
"So!" Leo pointed his index fingers at Nike. "I didn't get the briefing, and I'm pretty sure the information wasn't covered in Frank's pamphlet. Could you tell me what's going on here?"
Nike's wide-eyed stare unnerved him. "We must have victory!" the goddess shrieked. "The contest must be decided! You have come here to determine the winner, yes?"
Frank cleared his throat. "Are you Nike or Victoria?"
"Argghh!" The goddess clutched the side of her head. Her horses reared, causing Arion to do the same. The goddess shuddered and split into two separate images.
Mitchell shuddered and stepped closer to Percy.
On the left was the first version of Nike: glittery sleeveless dress, dark hair circled with laurels, golden wings folded behind her. On the right was a different version, dressed for war in a Roman breastplate and greaves. Short auburn hair peeked out from the rim of a tall helmet. Her wings were feathery white, her dress purple, and the shaft of her spear was fixed with a plate-sized Roman insignia — a golden SPQR in a laurel wreath.
