by Rick Riordan
“Of course,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “Let’s find the highway.”
Leo had said they were close. His idea of “close” needed some work.
After trudging half a mile through hot fields, getting bitten by mosquitoes and whacked in the face with scratchy sunflowers, they finally reached the road. An old billboard for Bubba’s Gas ’n’ Grub indicated they were still forty miles from the first Topeka exit.
“Correct my math,” Percy said, “but doesn’t that mean we have eight miles to walk?”
Jason peered both ways down the deserted road. He looked better today, thanks to the magical healing of ambrosia and nectar. His color was back to normal, and the scar on his forehead had almost vanished. The new gladius that Hera had given him last winter hung at his belt. Most guys would look pretty awkward walking around with a scabbard strapped to their jeans, but on Jason it seemed perfectly natural.
“No cars…” he said. “But I guess we wouldn’t want to hitchhike.”
“No,” Piper agreed, gazing nervously down the highway. “We’ve already spent too much time going overland. The earth is Gaea’s territory.”
“Hmm…” Jason snapped his fingers. “I can call a friend for a ride.”
Percy raised his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? Me too. Let’s see whose friend gets here first.”
Jason whistled. Piper knew what he was doing, but he’d succeeded in summoning Tempest only three times since they’d met the storm spirit at the Wolf House last winter. Today, the sky was so blue, Piper didn’t see how it could work.
Percy simply closed his eyes and concentrated.
Piper hadn’t studied him up close before. After hearing so much at Camp Half-Blood about Percy Jackson this and Percy Jackson that, she thought he looked…well, unimpressive, especially next to Jason. Percy was more slender, about an inch shorter, with slightly longer, much darker hair.
He wasn’t really Piper’s type. If she’d seen him in the mall somewhere, she probably would’ve thought he was a skater—cute in a scruffy way, a little on the wild side, definitely a troublemaker. She would have steered clear. She had enough trouble in her life. But she could see why Annabeth liked him, and she could definitely see why Percy needed Annabeth in his life. If anybody could keep a guy like that under control, it was Annabeth.
Thunder crackled in the clear sky.
Jason smiled. “Soon.”
“Too late.” Percy pointed east, where a black winged shape was spiraling toward them. At first, Piper thought it might be Frank in crow form. Then she realized it was much too big to be a bird.
“A black pegasus?” she said. “Never seen one like that.”
The winged stallion came in for a landing. He trotted over to Percy and nuzzled his face, then turned his head inquisitively toward Piper and Jason.
“Blackjack,” Percy said, “this is Piper and Jason. They’re friends.”
The horse nickered.
“Uh, maybe later,” Percy answered.
Piper had heard that Percy could speak to horses, being the son of the horse lord Poseidon, but she’d never seen it in action.
“What does Blackjack want?” she asked.
“Donuts,” Percy said. “Always donuts. He can carry all three of us if—”
Suddenly the air turned cold. Piper’s ears popped. About fifty yards away, a miniature cyclone three stories tall tore across the tops of the sunflowers like a scene from The Wizard of Oz. It touched down on the road next to Jason and took the form of a horse—a misty steed with lightning flickering through its body.
“Tempest,” Jason said, grinning broadly. “Long time, my friend.”
The storm spirit reared and whinnied. Blackjack backed up skittishly.
“Easy, boy,” Percy said. “He’s a friend too.” He gave Jason an impressed look. “Nice ride, Grace.”
Jason shrugged. “I made friends with him during our fight at the Wolf House. He’s a free spirit, literally, but once in a while he agrees to help me.”
Percy and Jason climbed on their respective horses. Piper had never been comfortable with Tempest. Riding full gallop on a beast that could vaporize at any moment made her a bit nervous. Nevertheless, she accepted Jason’s hand and climbed on.
Tempest raced down the road with Blackjack soaring overhead. Fortunately, they didn’t pass any cars, or they might have caused a wreck. In no time, they arrived at the thirty-two-mile marker, which looked exactly as Piper had seen it in her vision.
Blackjack landed. Both horses pawed the asphalt. Neither looked pleased to have stopped so suddenly, just when they’d found their stride.
Blackjack whinnied.
“You’re right,” Percy said. “No sign of the wine dude.”
“I beg your pardon?” said a voice from the fields.
Tempest turned so quickly, Piper almost fell off.
The wheat parted, and the man from her vision stepped into view. He wore a wide-brimmed hat wreathed in grapevines, a purple short-sleeved shirt, khaki shorts, and Birkenstocks with white socks. He looked maybe thirty, with a slight potbelly, like a frat boy who hadn’t yet realized college was over.
“Did someone just call me the wine dude?” he asked in a lazy drawl. “It’s Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or Lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-My-Gods-Please-Don’t-Kill-Me, Lord Bacchus.”
Percy urged Blackjack forward, though the pegasus didn’t seem happy about it.
“You look different,” Percy told the god. “Skinnier. Your hair is longer. And your shirt isn’t so loud.”
The wine god squinted up at him. “What in blazes are you talking about? Who are you, and where is Ceres?”
“Uh…what series?”
“I think he means Ceres,” Jason said. “The goddess of agriculture. You’d call her Demeter.” He nodded respectfully to the god. “Lord Bacchus, do you remember me? I helped you with that missing leopard in Sonoma.”
Bacchus scratched his stubbly chin. “Ah…yes. John Green.”
“Jason Grace.”
“Whatever,” the god said. “Did Ceres send you, then?”
“No, Lord Bacchus,” Jason said. “Were you expecting to meet her here?”
The god snorted. “Well, I didn’t come to Kansas to party, my boy. Ceres asked me here for a council of war. What with Gaea rising, the crops are withering. Droughts are spreading. The karpoi are in revolt. Even my grapes aren’t safe. Ceres wanted a united front in the plant war.”
“The plant war,” Percy said. “You’re going to arm all the little grapes with tiny assault rifles?”
The god narrowed his eyes. “Have we met?”
“At Camp Half-Blood,” Percy said, “I know you as Mr. D—Dionysus.”
“Agh!” Bacchus winced and pressed his hands to his temples. For a moment, his image flickered. Piper saw a different person—fatter, dumpier, in a much louder, leopard-patterned shirt. Then Bacchus returned to being Bacchus. “Stop that!” he demanded. “Stop thinking about me in Greek!”
Percy blinked. “Uh, but—”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused? Splitting headaches all the time! I never know what I’m doing or where I’m going! Constantly grumpy!”
“That sounds pretty normal for you,” Percy said.
The god’s nostrils flared. One of the grape leaves on his hat burst into flame. “If we know each other from that other camp, it’s a wonder I haven’t already turned you into a dolphin.”
“It was discussed,” Percy assured him. “I think you were just too lazy to do it.”
Piper had been watching with horrified fascination, the way she might watch a car wreck in progress. Now she realized Percy was not making things better, and Annabeth wasn’t around to rein him in. Piper figured her friend would never forgive her if she brought Percy back transformed into a sea mammal.
“Lord Bacchus!” she interrupted, slipping off Tempest’s back.
“Piper, careful,” Jason said.
She shot him a wa
rning glance: I’ve got this.
“Sorry to trouble you, my lord,” she told the god, “but actually we came here to get your advice. Please, we need your wisdom.”
She used her most agreeable tone, pouring respect into her charmspeak.
The god frowned, but the purple glow faded in his eyes. “You’re well-spoken, girl. Advice, eh? Very well. I would avoid karaoke. Really, theme parties in general are out. In these austere times, people are looking for a simple, low-key affair, with locally produced organic snacks and—”
“Not about parties,” Piper interrupted. “Although that’s incredibly useful advice, Lord Bacchus. We were hoping you’d help us on our quest.”
She explained about the Argo II and their voyage to stop the giants from awakening Gaea. She told him what Nemesis had said: that in six days, Rome would be destroyed. She described the vision reflected in her knife, where Bacchus offered her a silver goblet.
“Silver goblet?” The god didn’t sound very excited. He grabbed a Diet Pepsi from nowhere and popped the top of the can.
“You drink Diet Coke,” Percy said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bacchus snapped. “As to this vision of the goblet, young lady, I have nothing for you to drink unless you want a Pepsi. Jupiter has put me under strict orders to avoid giving wine to minors. Bothersome, but there you have it. As for the giants, I know them well. I fought in the first Giant War, you know.”
“You can fight?” Percy asked.
Piper wished he hadn’t sounded so incredulous.
Dionysus snarled. His Diet Pepsi transformed into a five-foot staff wreathed in ivy, topped with a pinecone.
“A thyrsus!” Piper said, hoping to distract the god before he whacked Percy on the head. She’d seen weapons like that before in the hands of crazy nymphs, and wasn’t thrilled to see one again, but she tried to sound impressed. “Oh, what a mighty weapon!”
“Indeed,” Bacchus agreed. “I’m glad someone in your group is smart. The pinecone is a fearsome tool of destruction! I was a demigod myself in the first Giant War, you know. The son of Jupiter!”
Jason flinched. Probably he wasn’t thrilled to be reminded that the Wine Dude was technically his big brother.
Bacchus swung his staff through the air, though his potbelly almost threw him off balance. “Of course that was long before I invented wine and became an immortal. I fought side by side with the gods and some other demigod…Harry Cleese, I think.”
“Heracles?” Piper suggested politely.
“Whatever,” Bacchus said. “Anyway, I killed the giant Ephialtes and his brother Otis. Horrible boors, those two. Pinecone in the face for both of them!”
Piper held her breath. All at once, several ideas came together in her head—the visions in the knife, the lines of the prophecy they’d been discussing the night before. She felt like she used to when she was scuba diving with her father, and he would wipe her mask for her underwater. Suddenly, everything was clearer.
“Lord Bacchus,” she said, trying to control the nervousness in her voice. “Those two giants, Ephialtes and Otis…would they happen to be twins?”
“Hmm?” The god seemed distracted by his thyrsus-swinging, but he nodded. “Yes, twins. That’s right.”
Piper turned to Jason. She could tell he was following her thoughts: Twins snuff out the angel’s breath.
In the blade of Katoptris, she’d seen two giants in yellow robes, lifting a jar from a deep pit.
“That’s why we’re here,” Piper told the god. “You’re part of our quest!”
Bacchus frowned. “I’m sorry, my girl. I’m not a demigod anymore. I don’t do quests.”
“But giants can only be killed by heroes and gods working together,” she insisted. “You’re a god now, and the two giants we have to fight are Ephialtes and Otis. I think…I think they’re waiting for us in Rome. They’re going to destroy the city somehow. The silver goblet I saw in my vision—maybe it’s meant as a symbol for your help. You have to help us kill the giants!”
Bacchus glared at her, and Piper realized she’d chosen her words poorly.
“My girl,” he said coldly, “I don’t have to do anything. Besides, I only help those who give me proper tribute, which no one has managed to do in many, many centuries.”
Blackjack whinnied uneasily.
Piper couldn’t blame him. She didn’t like the sound of tribute. She remembered the maenads, the crazed followers of Bacchus, who would tear up nonbelievers with their bare hands. And that was when they were in a good mood.
Percy voiced the question that she was too scared to ask. “What kind of tribute?”
Bacchus waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing you could handle, insolent Greek. But I will give you some free advice, since this girl does have some manners. Seek out Gaea’s son, Phorcys. He always hated his mother, not that I can blame him. He didn’t have much use for his siblings the twins, either. You’ll find him in the city they named after that heroine—Atalanta.”
Piper hesitated. “You mean Atlanta?”
“That’s the one.”
“But this Phorcys,” Jason said. “Is he a giant? A Titan?”
Bacchus laughed. “Neither. Seek out the salt water.”
“Salt water…” Percy said. “In Atlanta?”
“Yes,” Bacchus said. “Are you hard of hearing? If anyone can give you insight on Gaea and the twins, it’s Phorcys. Just watch out for him.”
“What do you mean?” Jason asked.
The god glanced at the sun, which had climbed almost to high noon. “It’s unlike Ceres to be late, unless she sensed something dangerous in this area. Or…”
The god’s face suddenly went slack. “Or a trap. Well, I must be going! And if I were you, I’d do the same!”
“Lord Bacchus, wait!” Jason protested.
The god shimmered and disappeared with a sound like a soda-can top being popped.
The wind rustled through the sunflowers. The horses paced in agitation. Despite the dry, hot day, Piper shivered. A cold feeling…Annabeth and Leo had both described a cold feeling.…
“Bacchus is right,” she said. “We need to leave—”
Too late, said a sleepy voice, humming through the fields all around them and resonating in the ground at Piper’s feet.
Percy and Jason drew their swords. Piper stood on the road between them, frozen with fear. The power of Gaea was suddenly everywhere. The sunflowers turned to look at them. The wheat bent toward them like a million scythes.
Welcome to my party, Gaea murmured. Her voice reminded Piper of corn growing—a crackling, hissing, hot and persistent noise she used to hear at Grandpa Tom’s on those quiet nights in Oklahoma.
What did Bacchus say? the goddess mocked. A simple, low-key affair with organic snacks? Yes. For my snacks, I need only two: the blood of a female demigod, and the blood of a male. Piper, my dear, choose which hero will die with you.
“Gaea!” Jason yelled. “Stop hiding in the wheat. Show yourself!”
Such bravado, Gaea hissed. But the other one, Percy Jackson, also has appeal. Choose, Piper McLean, or I will.
Piper’s heart raced. Gaea meant to kill her. That was no surprise. But what was this about choosing one of the boys? Why would Gaea let either of them go? It had to be a trap.
“You’re insane!” she shouted. “I’m not choosing anything for you!”
Suddenly Jason gasped. He sat up straight in his saddle.
“Jason!” Piper cried. “What’s wrong—?”
He looked down at her, his expression deadly calm. His eyes were no longer blue. They glowed solid gold.
“Percy, help!” Piper stumbled back from Tempest.
But Percy galloped away from them. He stopped thirty feet down the road and wheeled his pegasus around. He raised his sword and pointed the tip toward Jason.
“One will die,” Percy said, but the voice wasn’t his. It was deep and hollow, like someone whispering from inside the barrel o
f a cannon.
“I will choose,” Jason answered, in the same hollow voice.
“No!” Piper yelled.
All around her, the fields crackled and hissed, laughing in Gaea’s voice as Percy and Jason charged at each other, their weapons ready.
I F NOT FOR THE HORSES, P IPER WOULD’VE DIED.
Jason and Percy charged each other, but Tempest and Blackjack balked long enough for Piper to leap out of the way.
She rolled to the edge of the road and looked back, dazed and horrified, as the boys crossed swords, gold against bronze. Sparks flew. Their blades blurred—strike and parry—and the pavement trembled. The first exchange took only a second, but Piper couldn’t believe the speed of their sword fighting. The horses pulled away from each other—Tempest thundering in protest, Blackjack flapping his wings.
“Stop it!” Piper yelled.
For a moment, Jason heeded her voice. His golden eyes turned toward her, and Percy charged, slamming his blade into Jason. Thank the gods, Percy turned his sword—maybe on purpose, maybe accidentally—so the flat of it hit Jason’s chest; but the impact was still enough to knock Jason off his mount.
Blackjack cantered away as Tempest reared in confusion. The spirit horse charged into the sunflowers and dissipated into vapor.
Percy struggled to turn his pegasus around.
“Percy!” Piper yelled. “Jason’s your friend. Drop your weapon!”
Percy’s sword arm dipped. Piper might have been able to bring him under control, but unfortunately Jason got to his feet.
Jason roared. A bolt of lightning arced out of the clear blue sky. It ricocheted off his gladius and blasted Percy off his horse.
Blackjack whinnied and fled into the wheat fields. Jason charged at Percy, who was now on his back, his clothes smoking from the lightning blast.
For a horrible moment, Piper couldn’t find her voice. Gaea seemed to be whispering to her: You must choose one. Why not let Jason kill him?
“No!” she screamed. “Jason, stop!”
He froze, his sword six inches from Percy’s face.