The Omnitrix Holder and the Sea of Monsters

Tyson plays with fire

Don't be a silent reader

Percy's pov

Mythologically speaking, if there's anything I hate worse than trios of old ladies, it's bulls.

Last summer, I fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls — bronze ones the size of elephants. And even that wasn't bad enough. Naturally, they had to breathe fire, too.

As soon as we exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left us on the side of the road, Amara with nothing but her backpack and her alien dog, Tyson, and me still in our burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.

"Oh, man," said Amara, looking at the battle raging on the hill. 

What worried me most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried me was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree.

But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice — gruff and familiar. Border patrol? I thought. The camp didn't have a border patrol.

" Watch for their attack! slipt up and attack from all sides!" I heard an older man's voice. there I saw Luke in the air flying with a new sword in his hand.

"It's Clarisse and Luke," Amara said. "Come on, we have to help them."

Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on Amara's and mine"to-do" list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time we'd met she tried to introduce my head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of Ares, and Amara had a very serious disagreement with her father last summer, so now the god of war and all his children basically hated our guts well they fear amara.

Still, she was in trouble and so was Luke. Her fellow warriors were scattered, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horse-hair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk. Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder.

I uncapped my ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until I held the bronze sword Anaklusmos in my hands. "Tyson...Amara, stay here. I don't want you taking any more chances."

"No!" Amara said. "We need him."

I stared at her. "He's mortal like you. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can't — "

"Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls were made by Hephaestus himself. We can't fight them without Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We'll get burned to a crisp." 

"Medea's what?"

Amara rummaged through her backpack and cursed. "Luke had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on his nightstand at home. I swear I packed it"

I'd learned a long time ago not to question Amara too much. It just made me more confused. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not going to let Tyson or You get fried."

"Percy—"

"Tyson, stay back." I raised my sword. "I'm going in."

Tyson tried to protest, but I was already running up the hill toward Clarisse, who was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide — and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.