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"hey, kid," ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see us. "you were supposed to die."
"you tricked me," percy said. "you stole the helm and the master bolt."
ares grinned. "well, now, i didn't steal them personally. gods taking each other's symbols of power — that's a big no-no. but you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."
"who did you use? clarisse? she was there at the winter solstice."
the idea seemed to amuse him, and i immediately realized it wasn't her. even she wouldn't do something like this.
"doesn't matter. the point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. see, you've got to die in the underworld. then old seaweed will be mad at hades for killing you. corpse breath will have zeus's master bolt, so zeus'll be mad at him. and hades is still looking for this..."
from his pocket he took out a ski cap — the kind bank robbers wear — and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.
"the helm of darkness," grover gasped.
"exactly," ares said. "now where was i? oh yeah, hades will be mad at both zeus and poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."
"but they're your family!" annabeth protested.
ares shrugged. "best kind of war. always the bloodiest. nothing like watching your relatives fight, i always say."
"you gave me the backpack in denver," percy said. "the master bolt was in there the whole time."
"yes and no," ares said. "it's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. the bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. it always returns to your pocket, right?"
i looked at percy. i hadn't thought about that, but he was right. it did always return to his pocket. a lot of weapons were enchanted like that. mine were.
