Percy Battles His Jerk Relative is the sixty-ninth chapter of The Gift of a Best Friend. It was first published on August 10th, 2018.
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Chapter Aww, poor Percy. He went all the way to the Underworld to save his mom, and he failed. Why couldn’t Poseidon’s Nereid given him an extra pearl for her? And then to find out that we’ve had the master bolt for over a week since we were in Denver. That fucking asshole of a god, and now it makes sense why. It’s so unfair. A Coast Guard boat picked us up, but they were too busy to keep us for long, or to wonder how four kids in street clothes and their pet dragon had gotten out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls. They dropped us off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around our shoulders and water bottles that said I’M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people. Our clothes were sopping wet, even Percy’s. He willed himself to get soaked. I don’t like to get wet unless I’m taking a shower or am in my bathing to swim in a pool. I don’t think I would make myself wet when I can be dry in water just so that no one will ask questions. So what? Let them think what they want. I can actually do that—be completely dry while in water—but I have to ask my powers to help me stay dry and I forget, especially when I don’t know that I’m going to get wet. Oh well. After reaching dry land, we stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. “I don’t believe it,” Annabeth said. “We went all that way—” “It was a trick,” Percy said. “A strategy worthy of Athena.” I laughed. “That’s good.” “Hey,” Annabeth warned. “You get it, don’t you?” Percy asked. She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. “Yeah. I get it.” “Well, I don’t!” Grover complained. “Would somebody—” “Percy . . .” Annabeth said. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m so sorry. . . .” I tried to read his expression, not his mind, but I couldn’t. “The prophecy was right,” he said. “‘You shall go west and face the god who has turned.’ But it wasn’t Hades. Hades didn’t want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus’s master bolt, and Hades’s helm, and framed me because I’m Poseidon’s kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I’ll have caused it.” “No, you wouldn’t have, Percy,” I said, trying to comfort him. “It’s not your fault the gods are all ignorant assholes.” Grover shook his head, mystified. “But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?” Percy stopped in his tracks, looking down the beach. “Gee, let me think.” I looked where he was looking and saw who he was referring to. I immediately glared in his direction. There he was, waiting for us, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red. “Hey, kid,” Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy. “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. “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, like it was surprising he had it anymore. “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? Anyway, I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to its sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades. . . . Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way—no loss. I still had the weapon.” “But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself? Why send it to Hades?” Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head. “Why didn’t I . . . yeah . . . with that kind of firepower . . .” He held the trance for one second . . . two seconds. . . . Percy, Annabeth, and I exchanged nervous looks. Ares’s face cleared. “I didn’t want the trouble. Better to have you caught red-handed, holding the thing.” “You’re lying,” Percy said. “Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn’t your idea, was it?” “Of course it was!” Smoke drifted up from his sunglasses, as if they were about to catch fire. “You didn’t order the theft,” Percy guessed. “Someone else sent the hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn’t turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around.” “I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don’t have dreams!” Annabeth and I looked at each other. Dreams? we mouthed. Percy hesitated. “Who said anything about dreams?” Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk. “Let’s get back to the problem at hand, kid,” he said. “You’re alive. I can’t have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I’ve got to kill you. Nothing personal.” I was about to step between them defensively, but before I could, Ares snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar. It pawed the sand, glaring at Percy with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill. Percy stepped into the surf. “Fight me yourself, Ares.” He laughed, but I heard a little edge to his laughter . . . an uneasiness. “You’ve only got one talent, kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don’t have what it takes.” “Scared?” “In your adolescent dreams.” But his sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. “No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You’re not at my level.” I’d like to beg to differ. “Percy, run!” Annabeth said. The giant boar charged. I activated my animal powers and focused on it. It hesitated a little, but it was fighting my connection. Man, was it angry. “Let it go, Jasmine,” Percy told me. “I got this.” I glanced at him. He looked determined to fight this boar. As much as I didn’t want him to get hurt by it, I let him. I cut off my connection to it completely. The boar charged at Percy. As it rushed him, he uncapped his pen and sidestepped. His sword appeared in his hands. He slashed upward. The boar’s severed right tusk fell at his feet, while the disoriented animal charged into the sea. “Wave!” Percy shouted. Immediately, a wave surged up from nowhere and engulfed the boar, wrapping around it like a blanket. The beast squealed once in terror, which was really hard to watch. Then it was gone, swallowed by the sea. Goodbye. Percy turned back to Ares. “Are you going to fight me now? Or are you going to hide behind another pet pig?” Ares’s face was purple with rage. “Watch it, kid. I could turn you into—” “A cockroach. Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I’m sure. That’d save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn’t it?” Flames danced along the top of his glasses. Oh, I’m really enjoying watching Percy piss off Ares. “Oh, man,” Ares said. “You are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot.” Oh, yes he is. “If I lose, turn me into anything you want,” Percy said. “Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away.” Ares sneered. He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. “How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?” Percy showed him his sword. “That’s cool, dead boy,” Ares said. “Classic it is.” The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth. “Percy,” Annabeth said. “Don’t do this. He’s a god.” “He’s a coward,” I told her. “I agree,” I said. Annabeth swallowed. “Wear this, at least. For luck.” She took off her necklace, with her five years’ worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around his neck. “Reconciliation,” she said. “Athena and Poseidon together.” “And here,” I said. I put my hand on his chest, concentrated, and a big S appeared on his shirt, starting from his left shoulder and ending at the hem. “It’s the symbol of the first letter of my last name,” I said. “Some of us wear that. The Saturday family is with you all the way.” Toothless licked his face. I guess there wasn’t really anything he could give him other than his saliva. Percy smiled, blushing a little bit. “Thanks.” “And take this,” Grover said. He handed me a flattened tin can that he’d probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. “The satyrs stand behind you.” “Grover . . . I don’t know what to say.” He patted him on the shoulder. Percy stuffed the tin can in his back pocket. That was a really cute moment between the five of us. “You all done saying goodbye?” Ares came toward Percy, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. “I’ve been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?” Enough strength and courage to beat you, asshole, I thought, but didn’t say this time. Percy kept his feet in the surf, backing into the water up to his ankles. Ares cleaved downward at Percy’s head, but he wasn’t there. The water seemed to push him into the air and he catapulted over Ares, slashing as he went down. But Ares was just as quick. He twisted, and the strike that should’ve caught him directly in the spine was deflected off the end of his sword hilt. Ares grinned, “Not bad, not bad.” He slashed again and Percy was forced to jump onto dry land. He tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know what he wanted. He outmaneuvered Percy, pressing so hard Percy had to put all his concentration on not getting sliced to pieces. Percy kept backing away from the surf. Percy couldn’t seem to find any openings to attack. Ares’s sword had a reach several feet longer than Percy’s. Percy stepped inside with a thrust, but Ares was waiting for that. He knocked Percy’s blade out of his hands and kicked him in the chest. He went airborne—twenty, maybe thirty feet. Percy would’ve broken his back if he hadn’t crashed into the soft sand of a dune. “Percy!” Annabeth yelled. “Cops!” “Oh, great,” I muttered sarcastically. I turned around to see red lights flashing on the shoreline boulevard. Car doors opened and slammed. “There, officer!” somebody yelled. “See?” “Looks like that kid on TV . . .” a cop with a gruff voice said. “What the heck . . .” “That guy’s armed,” another cop said. “Call for backup.” I turned back to Percy. He rolled to one side as Ares’s blade slashed the sand. Percy ran for his sword, scooped it up, and launched a swipe at Ares’s face, only to find his blade deflected again. Ares seemed to know exactly what Percy was going to do the moment before he did it. Percy stepped back toward the surf, forcing Ares to follow. “Admit it, kid,” Ares said. “You got no hope. I’m just toying with you.” I really hope Percy doesn’t listen to him and just kicks his ass. I heard another cop car with its sirens wailing. Spectators, people who had been wandering the streets because of the earthquake, were starting to gather. Among the crowd, I think I saw a few who were walking with strange, trotting gait of disguised satyrs. There were shimmering forms of spirits, too, as if the dead had risen from Hades to watch the battle. I heard the flap of leathery wings circling from somewhere above. More sirens. My grandmother appeared, along with her partners; Pikachu, Nick, and the animals. They were flying in the air at the moment and landed next to me. “What’s going on?” Grandma asked me. “Percy challenged Ares to a battle,” I replied. “How’s it going?” “Ok for Percy so far.” Percy stepped farther into the water, but Ares was fast. The tip of his blade ripped Percy’s sleeve and grazed his forearm. A police voice on a megaphone said, “Drop the guns! Set them on the ground. Now!” Guns? I looked at Ares’s weapons, and it seemed to be flickering; sometimes it looked like a shotgun, sometimes a two-handed sword. The people probably saw Percy’s sword as a bat or something else. Ares turned to glare at the spectators, which gave Percy a moment to breathe. There were five police cars now, and a line of officers crouching behind them, pistols trained on Percy and Ares. “This is a private matter!” Ares bellowed. “Be gone!” He swept his hand, and a wall of red flame rolled across the patrol cars. The police barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded. The crowd behind them scattered, screaming. Well, that got rid of them. Grandma and her partners went to check if any of them were hurt. Ares roared with laughter. “Now, little hero. Let’s add you to the barbecue.” He slashed. Percy deflected his blade. He got close enough to strike, tried to fake Ares out with a feint, but his blow was knocked aside. The waves were hitting Percy in the back now. Ares was up to his thighs, wading in after him. The water behind Percy seemed to reside. I think he was holding back the tide by force of will, for some reason. Ares went forward, grinning confidently. Percy lowered his blade, as if he were too exhausted to go on. Ares raised his sword. Percy released the tide and jumped, rocketing straight over Ares on a wave. A six-foot wall of water smashed him full in the face, leaving him cursing and sputtering with a mouth full of seaweed. Percy landed behind him with a splash and feinted toward his head, as he’d done before. Ares turned in time to raise his sword, but this time he was disoriented, he didn’t anticipate the trick. Percy changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed his sword straight down into the water, sending the point through the god’s heel. The roar that followed made Hades’s earthquake look like a minor event. The very sea was blasted back from Ares, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide. Damn. Ichor, the golden blood of the gods, flowed from a gash in Ares’s boot. The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that he’d been wounded. Well, believe it, dude, because it just happened. He limped toward Percy, muttering ancient Greek curses. Something stopped him. Light faded. Sound and color drained away. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing, and making me feel like life was hopeless. The darkness lifted. Ares looked stunned. Police cars were burning behind us. The crowd of spectators had fled. Annabeth, Grover, Toothless, and I were in shock, watching the water flood back around Ares’s feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide. Ares lowered his sword. “You have made an enemy, godling,” he told Percy. “You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Percy Jackson. Beware.” His body began to glow. “Percy!” Annabeth shouted. “Don’t watch!” He turned away, as did we, as Ares revealed his true immortal form. The light died. We looked back. Ares was gone. The tide rolled out to reveal Hades’s bronze helm of darkness. Percy picked it up and walked toward us. But before he got to us, I heard the flapping of leathery wings. The Furies drifted down from the sky and landed in front of Percy. The middle one stepped forward. “We saw the whole thing,” she hissed. “So . . . it truly was not you?” Percy tossed her the helmet, which she caught in surprise. “Return that to Lord Hades,” Percy said. “Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war.” She hesitated. “Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again . . .” She cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats’ wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled air, and disappeared. Percy joined us, and we were staring at him in amazement. “Percy . . .” Grover said. “That was so incredibly . . .” “Terrifying,” Annabeth said. “Cool!” Grover corrected. “Awesome,” I agreed. Toothless did, too. “Did you guys feel that . . . whatever it was?” Percy asked. We all nodded uneasily. “Must’ve been the Furies overhead,” Grover said. I didn’t think so. Something had stopped Ares from killing Percy, and whatever could do that was a lot stronger than the Furies. I looked at Annabeth and Percy, and an understanding passed between us. The three of us were now positive what was in that pit, what had spoken from the entrance of Tartarus. Percy reclaimed his backpack from Grover and looked inside. “We have to get back to New York,” he said. “By tonight.” “That’s impossible,” Annabeth said, “unless we—” “Fly,” Percy agreed. She stared at him. “Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus strike you out of the sky, and carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?” “That’s what it sounds like,” I said. “Yeah,” Percy said. “Pretty much exactly like that. Come on.” Please review here. |