A god in disguise

13

I admit it was my fault for being so hungry, but Grover ate so appetizingly that I couldn't help but feel jealous. And hey, the cheeseburgers smelled good. But I blame Annabeth for looking so much like her mom that Med would want her in stone. Family issues.

After sending Medusa's head on its way (courtesy of Annabeth, slayer of the gorgon—she swung my sword. Grover and I did everything else), we took a train to Los Angeles. Annabeth and I sat as far as we can from each other, with Grover sitting in the middle, noisily eating chips then smoothly proceeded to gobble down the entire packaging.

In other words, as peaceful as we've gotten for the past few days.

After a few hours, Grover finished his food. Uh oh—

"Where can we stop to eat?" Grover asked.

Annabeth and I sighed. The daughter of Athena looked out for a while before pointing at a Mexican restaurant that was packed with people. Her idea was that many mortals would cover our scent, but I was too pissed at her to point out that even so many mortals couldn't mask my scent alone. What made me more pissed is that I forgot why I was pissed off at her in the first place.

There we stopped, and there we ate. Annabeth and I didn't order much, partly because our money was running low, and we weren't hungry. The same couldn't be said for our dearest satyr friend.

When we were just about to finish the food, I sensed a godly aura enter the restaurant. Not good.

I tensed up, causing Annabeth and Grover to be on high alert, too. Then I made my mistake of looking at Annabeth since she was the smart one.

Anger bubbled up my throat, the past few days of arguing flashed through my mind as I remembered the unsettled arguments I had with her. Seeing Annabeth's brows tighten, I thought she felt the same. We started yelling at each other, but the noise wasn't conspicuous as the rest of the restaurant suddenly turned violent too, as if everyone decided to yell at each other on an unspoken agreement.

Grover yelped. He took out his pipes and played a soothing tune, which worked wonders as everyone started to calm down. Someone chuckled in the background.

I know that voice. Ares.

God of War.

Father of Clarisse La Rue.

Smiling at us, he waved a hand and made a peace sign. Annabeth was muttering 'not good' non-stop, Grover was shaking, and my heart was beating very fast.

"Well, punks? I see the sea slug is still alive! A pity you weren't killed," Ares said, spreading his arms.

"Hello to you, too," I muttered. Annabeth's glare was piercing on my forehead.

"I hear you runts are headed to Hades, but you'll never make it like that. I'd love to yeet you across the state, but that might crack a few bones. So how 'bout this: you help me get the shield I accidentally left at Waterland in Denver, I help you find transportation? Sounds good, eh? You're welcome."

Grover opened and closed his mouth, unable to say anything. I nodded quickly, squeaked a timid "Yessir" and looked at Annabeth. She looked skeptical, but huffed and agreed. We all looked back at Ares.

He smirked trimphantly. "Aphrodite says hi." Then he was gone.

'So Ares and Aphrodite,' I said, to keep my mind off the growing dark, 'they have a thing going?'

'That's old gossip, Percy,' Annabeth told me. 'Three-thousand-year-old gossip.'

'What about Aphrodite's husband?'