forest green ● jason grace

ten

Daria felt sick.

Even if they were harpies, it was an injustice. Daria had gotten in trouble too many times at camp for disobeying orders to save people. She wanted to tear Phineas apart with her bare hands, quest be damned.

"That man..." Hazel smacked the side of a bus-stop bench. "He needs to die. Again."

Daria felt more sympathetic for Hazel than the boys. There was nothing like being compared to a ghoul, nothing like your secret getting blasted to the guy you had a crush on. Percy and Frank looked at each other like they weren't sure what to do. Truthfully, Daria wasn't either.

"We'll get him," Percy promised. "He's nothing like you, Hazel. I don't care what he says."

She shook her head. "You don't know the whole story. I should have been sent to Punishment. I — I'm just as bad — "

"No, you're not!" Frank balled his fists. He looked around like he was searching for anybody who might disagree with him — enemies he could hit for Hazel's sake. "She's a good person!" he yelled across the street. A few harpies squawked in the trees, but no one else paid them any attention.

Hazel stared at Frank. She reached out tentatively, as if she wanted to take his hand but was afraid he might evaporate.

"Frank..." she stammered. "I — I don't..."

Unfortunately, Frank seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts. He slung his spear off his back and gripped it uneasily.

"I could intimidate that old man," he offered, "maybe scare him — "

"No," Daria said, taking a deep breath like she was about to go into battle. There were other people at stake, she reminded herself. You can't be so selfish. "We need him, as unfortunate as it is."

Frank scowled at the dragon' s-tooth point, which had grown back completely overnight. "Yeah. I guess...."

Daria wasn't really sure what the old seer had meant about Frank's family history — his great-grandfather destroying camp, his Argonaut ancestor, and the bit about a burned stick. But it had clearly shaken Frank up. Daria decided not to ask for explanations. She didn't want anyone dragging up her past either.

"I've got an idea." Percy pointed up the street. "The red-feathered harpy went that way. Let's see if we can get her to talk to us."

Hazel looked at the food in his hands. "You're going to use that as bait?"

"More like a peace offering," Percy said. "Come on. Just try to keep the other harpies from stealing this stuff, okay?"

Daria drew her weapon. The harpies fluttered after them, perching on trees, mailboxes, and flagpoles, following the smell of food. Percy kept a tight grip. They needed the red one, as much as they wanted to help all the others.

They crossed the street and found a bench to sit on, next to a big bronze sculpture of an elephant.

"Looks like Hannibal," Hazel said.

"Except it's Chinese," Frank said. "My grandmother has one of those." He flinched. "I mean, hers isn't twelve feet tall. But she imports stuff... from China. We're Chinese." He looked at his friends, who were trying hard not to laugh. "Could I just die from embarrassment now?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it, man," Percy said. "Let's see if we can make friends with the harpy." He raised the Thai noodles and fanned the smell upward. The red harpy circled lower.

"We won't hurt you," Percy called up in a normal voice. "We just want to talk. Thai noodles for a chance to talk, okay?"

The harpy streaked down in a flash of red and landed on the elephant statue. She was painfully thin. Her feathery legs were like sticks. Her face would have been pretty except for her sunken cheeks. She moved in jerky birdlike twitches, her coffee-brown eyes darting restlessly, her fingers clawing at her plumage, her earlobes, her shaggy red hair.