The New Trinity -- Percy Jackson Batman Crossover -- The Olympian Heroes Book 4

15. Percy

I thought I knew the forest well after spending two summers here but Chiron led me to a part I'd never seen before.
It was a small glade covered in wild flowers and a group of satyrs were in a small circle. Off to the side was Annabeth, who had gone to find Clarisse, with Clarisse and a girl I didn't know by her.
Annabeth had her arm around the other girl, who looked like she'd been crying. She was small—petite, I guess you'd call it—with wispy hair the
color of amber and a pretty, elfish face. She wore a green chiton and laced sandals, and she was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. "It's going terribly," she sniffled.
"No, no," Annabeth patted her shoulders. "He'll be fine, Juniper."
Annabeth looked at me and mouthed the words Grover's girlfriend.
At least I thought that's what she said, but that didn't make any sense.
Grover with a girlfriend? Then I looked at Juniper more closely, and I realized her ears were slightly pointed. Her eyes, instead of being red from crying, were tinged green, the color of chlorophyll. She was a tree nymph, a dryad.
"Master Underwood!" the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Grover was trying to say. "Do you seriously expect us to
believe this?"
"B-but Silenus," Grover stammered. "It's the truth!"
The Council guy, Silenus, turned to his colleagues and muttered something. Chiron cantered up to the front and stood next to them. I remembered he was an honorary member of the council, but I'd never thought about it much. The elders didn't look very impressive. They reminded me of the goats in a petting zoo, huge bellies, sleepy expressions, and glazed eyes that couldn't see past the next handful of goat chow. I wasn't sure why Grover seemed so nervous.
Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. "Master Underwood, for six months, six months, we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak."
"But I did!"
"Impudence!" said the elder on the left.
"Now, Maron," Chiron said. "Patience."
"Patience, indeed!" Maron said. "I've had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to...to him."
Juniper looked like she wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up, but Annabeth and Clarisse held her back. "Wrong fight, girlie," Clarisse muttered. "Wait."
I don't know what surprised me more: Clarisse holding someone back from a fight, or the fact that she and Annabeth, who despised each other,
almost seemed like they were working together.
"For six months," Silenus continued, "we have indulged you, Master Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher's license. We waited for you to bring proof of your preposterous claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?"
"I just need more time," Grover pleaded.
"Nothing!" the elder in the middle chimed in. "You have found nothing."
Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs.
The satyrs didn't look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.
"Master Underwood," Silenus announced, "we will give you one more chance."
Grover brightened. "Thank you!"
"One more week."
"What? But sir! That's impossible!"
"One more week, Master Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your dramatic talents. Puppet theater, perhaps. Or tap dancing."
"But sir, I—I can't lose my searcher's license. My whole life—"
"This meeting of the council is adjourned," Silenus said. "And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!"
The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies.
The circle of satyrs broke and charged the food. Grover walked dejectedly toward us. His faded blue T-shirt had a picture of a satyr on it. It read GOT
HOOVES?
"Hi, Percy," he said, so depressed he didn't even offer to shake my hand.
"That went well, huh?"
"Those old goats!" Juniper said. "Oh, Grover, they don't know how hard you've tried!"
"There is another option," Clarisse said darkly.
"No. No." Juniper shook her head. "Grover, I won't let you."
His face was ashen. "I—I'll have to think about it. But we don't even know where to look."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
In the distance, a conch horn sounded.
Annabeth pursed her lips. "I'll fill you in later, Percy. We'd better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting."

I knew my cabin would be clean because I hadn't been there for a few months so I left to the sword arena to get practice in and clear my head.
I walked into the amphitheater and my heart almost stopped. In the middle of the arena floor, with its back to me, was the biggest hellhound I'd ever seen.
I mean, I've seen some pretty big hellhounds. One the size of a rhino tried to kill me when I was twelve. But this hellhound was bigger than a tank. I had no idea how it had gotten past the camp's magic boundaries. It looked right at home, lying on its belly, growling contentedly as it chewed the head off a combat dummy. It hadn't noticed me yet, but if I made a sound, I knew it would sense me. There was no time to go for help. I pulled out Riptide and
uncapped it.
"Yaaaaah!" I charged. I brought down the blade on the monster's enormous backside when out of nowhere another sword blocked my strike.
CLANG!
The hellhound pricked up its ears. "WOOF!"
I jumped back and instinctively struck at the swordsman—a gray-haired man in Greek armor. He parried my attack with no problem.
"Whoa there!" he said. "Truce!"
"WOOF!" The hellhound's bark shook the arena.
"That's a hellhound!" I shouted.
"She's harmless," the man said. "That's Mrs. O'Leary."
I blinked. "Mrs. O'Leary?"
At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. I realized she wasn't angry. She was excited. She nudged the soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward the swordsman.
"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armored manikin by the neck and heaved it toward the bleachers. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"
Mrs. O'Leary bounded after her prey and pounced on the dummy, flattening its armor. She began chewing on its helmet.
The swordsman smiled dryly. He was in his fifties. I guess, with short gray hair and a clipped gray beard. He was in good shape for an older guy.
He wore black mountain-climbing pants and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp T-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before I could make out what it was, he shifted his armor straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.
"Mrs. O'Leary is my pet," he explained. "I couldn't let you stick a sword in her rump, now, could I? That might have scared her."
"Who are you?"
"Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?"
"I guess."
He sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."
I shook his hand. It was as rough as a sandpaper.
"Percy Jackson," I said. "Sorry about—How did you, um-"
"Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with a death and quite a few giant chew toys. I'm the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out Chiron while Mr. D is away."
"Oh." I tried not to stare as Mrs. O'Leary ripped off the target dummy's shield with the arm still attached and shook it like a Frisbee. "Wait, Mr. D is away?"
"Yes, well...busy times. Even Dionysus must help out. He's gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they're on the right side. I probably shouldn't say more than that."
If Dionysus was gone, that was the best news I'd had all day. He was only our camp director because Zeus had sent him here as a punishment for
chasing some off-limits wood nymph. He hated the campers and tried to make our lives miserable. With him away, this summer might actually be
cool. On the other hand, if Dionysus had gotten off his butt and actually started helping the gods recruit against the Titan threat, things must be looking pretty bad.
Off to my left, there was a loud BUMP. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O'Leary cocked her head and bounded toward them.
"Whoa, girl!" Quintus said. "Those aren't for you." He distracted her with the bronze shield Frisbee.
The crates thumped and shook. There were words printed on the sides, but with my dyslexia they took me a few minutes to decipher:
TRIPLE G RANCH
FRAGILE
THIS END UP
Along the bottom, in smaller letters: OPEN WITH CARE. TRIPLE G
RANCH IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR PROPERTY DAMAGE, MAIMING, OR EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS.
"What's in the boxes?" I asked.
"A little surprise," Quintus said. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."
"Uh, okay," I said though I don't know how much I liked excruciatingly painful deaths. The conch horn blew in the distance "I uh...should probably get going. They're inspecting cabins"
Quintus grabbed a bronze shield and threw it like a frisbee to Mrs. O'Leary.
"Good luck Percy Jackson" he called after me
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