༄ ✩ 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗰𝘆 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘀 ▬▬▬▬
❝ 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘑𝘐𝘕𝘟𝘌𝘋 ❞
in which percy jackson meets
the 'insane' daughter of eris,
and is determined to be her
friend, despite what everyone
else says.
⬪ the lightn...
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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞: for if i'm going down. ( the fruits - paris paloma )
❝ thank you for trusting me ❞
Finally the bus came. As they stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy─ enchiladas.
“What is it?” Percy asked.
“I don’t know,” he said tensely. “Maybe it’s nothing.” But he could tell it wasn’t nothing when he saw Deianira doing the same, sharp eyes scanning their surrounding. Percy started looking over his shoulder, too. He was relieved when they finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. They stowed their backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.
As the last passengers got on, Annabeth clamped her hand onto his knee. “Percy.”
An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and Percy's heart skipped a beat.
It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face. Percy scrunched down in his seat. Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.
They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves. The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan.
“She didn’t stay dead long,” Percy said, trying to keep my voice from quivering. “I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime.”
“I said if you’re lucky,” Annabeth said. “You’re obviously not.”
“All three of them,” Grover whimpered. “Di immortales!”
“It’s okay,” Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. “The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We’ll just slip out the windows.”
“They don’t open,” Grover moaned.
“A back exit?” she suggested.
There wasn’t one. Even if there had been, it wouldn’t have helped. By that time, they were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.
