𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩

Chapter V I

6
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Morphing

Really, if there's one thing (y/n) hates more than three old decaying ladies, it had to be monsters. Last summer, he'd started being ganged up by monsters every time he left Camp. This time, what he saw on top of Half-Blood Hill was one of the worst sights: two bulls. And if that wasn't bad enough, they had to be made out of bronze, and—of course—breathe fire, too. Why not?

  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 the group on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, (y/n) with his old backpack missing, Benny's fur matted, Tyson, Percy and Cyrus still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.

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

  What worried (y/n) most weren’t the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated arses 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.

  "Ugh, I feel heavy. There's something wrong with the forest," (y/n) mumbled, his shoulders suddenly stiff as he stepped onto the grass.

  One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl’s voice—gruff and familiar.

  Border patrol? (y/n) thought. The camp didn’t have a border patrol.

  "It’s Clarisse," Annabeth said. "Come on, we have to help her."

  Normally, rushing to Clarisse’s aid would not have been high on (y/n)'s “to do” list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time they'd met she tried to introduce his head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of Ares, and he had a very serious disagreement with her father last summer, so now the god of war and all his children basically hated his guts.

  Still, she was in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, 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 horsehair 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.

  (y/n) flicked his earring. It shimmered, spilling out ashes that crisped in the air, turning into green flames that created his black sword.

  "Tyson, stay here. I don’t want you taking any more chances," said Percy.

  "No!" Annabeth said. "We need him."

  Percy stared at her. "He’s mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can’t—"

  "Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, 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?" 

  Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed. "I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my night-stand at home. Why didn’t I bring it?"

  (y/n) learned a long time ago not to question Annabeth too much. It just made him more confused, which was safe to say, wasn't good to admit to people who looked up to you when in trouble.