𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑 • PERCY JACKSON

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟗: 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐒. 𝐉𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒

Maybe she was crazy, but Eris didn't think he was ugly. Compared to Ares the guy was a model.

    "There," he muttered to himself. "Much better." The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away.

    Eris swallowed, "Uh, hi."

    Hephaestus glowered up at them. "I didn't make you, did I?"

    "Uh," Annabeth said, "no, sir."

    "Good," the god grumbled. "Shoddy workmanship."

   Unconsciously, Eris looked down at her clothes.

    He studied Annabeth, Percy, Eris and Jeremiah. "Half-bloods," he grunted. "Could be automatons, of course, but probably not."

   "We've met, sir," Percy told him.

    "Have we?" the god asked absently."Well then, if I didn't smash you to a pulp the first time we met, I suppose I won't have to do it now."

     He looked at Grover and frowned. "Satyr." Then he looked at Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. "Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing traveling with this lot?"

    "Uh..." said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god. He clutched Eris's hand in excitement as if holding back a squeal.

   "Yes, well said," Hephaestus agreed. "So, there'd better be a good reason you're disturbing me. The suspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you know."

     "Sir," Annabeth said hesitantly, "we're looking for Daedalus. We thought—"

   "Daedalus?" the god roared. "You want that old scoundrel? You dare to seek him out!" His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

     Eris held her breath, "Uh, sir please. We really need to find him."

    "Humph. You're wasting your time." He frowned at something on his worktable and limped over to it. He picked up a lump of springs and metal plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he was holding a bronze and silver falcon. It spread its metal wings, blinked its obsidian eyes, and flew around the room.

     Tyson laughed and clapped his hands. The bird landed on Tyson's shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.

   Hephaestus regarded him. The god's scowl didn't change, but his eyes seemed kinder."I sense you have something to tell me, Cyclops."

    Tyson's smile faded. "Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One."

    Hephaestus nodded, looking unsurprised. "Briares?"

    "Yes. He—he was scared. He would not help us."

    "And that bothered you."

    "Yes!" Tyson's voice wavered. "Briares should be strong! He is older and greater than Cyclopes. But he ran away."

     Hephaestus grunted. "There was a time I admired the Hundred-Handed Ones. Back in the days of the first war. But people, monsters, even gods change, young Cyclops. You can't trust 'em. Look at my loving mother, Hera. You met her, didn't you? She'll smile to your face and talk about how important family is, eh? Didn't stop her from pitching me off Mount Olympus when she saw my ugly face."

"But I thought Zeus did that to you," Percy said.

Hephaestus cleared his throat and spat into a bronze spittoon. He snapped his fingers, and the robotic falcon flew back to the worktable.
"Mother likes telling that version of the story," he grumbled. "Makes her seem more likeable, doesn't it? Blaming it all on my dad. The truth is, my mother likes families, but she likes a certain kind of family. Perfect families. She took one look at me and...well, I don't fit the image, do I?"