The war god was waiting for them in the diner parking lot. "Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."
"You knew it was a trap," Percy said, quietly fuming.
Ares gave me a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled black-smith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV. Your little girlfriend thought so too."
Percy shoved his shield at him. "You're a jerk. Where is she?" Annabeth and Grover caught their breath.
Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. 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 INTER-NATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.
Grover muttered, "You're kidding."
Percy wasn't going to get side-tracked. "Where is Pez?" he demanded.
Ares ignored him and snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining, she's already inside. And here's a little something for doing the job."
He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to the boy.
Inside were fresh clothes for all of them, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuff Oreos.
Percy said, "I don't want your lousy-"
"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving his friend his best red-alert warning look.
"Thanks a lot."
Percy gritted his teeth. It was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god, but he didn't want anything that Ares had touched. Reluctantly, he slung the backpack over his shoulder. He knew at least part of his anger was being caused by the war god's presence, but he was still itching to punch him in the nose. He reminded Percy of every bully he'd ever faced: Nancy Bobofit, Clarisse, Smelly Gabe, sarcastic teachers – every jerk who'd called him stupid in school or laughed at him when he'd gotten expelled.
He looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who'd served them dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt them. 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 them.
Great, Percy thought. We'll make the papers again tomorrow.
He imagined the headline: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAW BEATS UP DEFENSELESS BIKER.
"You owe me one more thing," Percy told Ares, trying to keep his voice level. "You promised me information about my mother."
"You sure you can handle the news?" He kick-started his motorcycle. "She's not dead."
The ground seemed to spin beneath the Son of Poseidon. "What do you mean?"
"I mean she was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis. Not death. She's being kept."
"Kept. Why?"
"You need to study war, punk. Hostages. You take somebody to control somebody else."
YOU ARE READING
Deadly Waters | Percy Jackson
FanfictionSpeaking bluntly, Pez hates everything and everyone. To put this into perspective, there has only ever been one exception to this rule, purely due to a freak progression of incidents unlikely to ever occur again. Of course, it must also be mentioned...
