So there they were, Y/N, Annabeth, Ethan, Percy and Grover, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind them, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in their noses.
Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."
Y/N was pretty much in shock himself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in his ears. But Annabeth kept pulling them along, saying, "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."
"All our money was back there, Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything."
"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" Annabeth began.
"What did you want me to do?" Percy retorted. "Let you get killed?"
"You didn't need to protect us, Percy," Annabeth told him. "We would've been fine."
"Sliced like sandwich bread," Ethan put in, "but fine."
"Shut up, goat boy," Annabeth said.
Ethan bleated with indignation and rammed his sunhat on his head.
Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans...a perfectly good bag of tin cans."
They sloshed the mushy ground through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry. Y/N still held the sword that had come from nowhere, and he had no idea what to do with it. He tried to hang it to his belt, but it didn't work. He already missed his bag.
After a few minutes, Annabeth said to Percy, "Look, I...I appreciate your coming back for us, okay?"
"We're a team, right?"
"Yeah, but it still was stupid." She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died...aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."
The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness. Y/N couldn't see anything of the others except their dark shapes.
"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" he asked her.
"No...only short field trips. My dad—" She stopped a moment. "It didn't work for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words now, as if she was afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're good or not."
If Y/N didn't know better, he could've sworn he heard doubt in her voice.
"Anyway, you're pretty good with that knife," he said.
"You think so?"
"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."
He couldn't really see, but he thought she might've smiled.
"You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you...Something funny back on the bus...."
Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured.
"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods." He puffed out a few notes, but the tune sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff.
Instead of finding a path, Percy slammed into a tree with a dull sound. Y/N would've laughed if he hadn't bumped into one too. Add to the list of superpowers none of them had: infrared vision.
After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, they started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. Y/N could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food.
They kept walking until they saw a deserted two-lane through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon above the gate was impossible for Y/N to read, because if there was anything worse for his dyslexia than regular English, it was red cursive neon English.
To him, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.
"What the heck does it say?" Percy asked.
"No idea," Y/N told him.
"Me neither," Annabeth said.
She loved reading so much Y/N had forgotten she was dyslexic, too.
Ethan translated, "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."
Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.
Y/N crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.
"Hey..." Ethan warned.
"The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."
"Snack bar," Percy said wistfully.
"Snack bar," she agreed.
Y/N had never gone to a snack bar, but from Annabeth's and Percy's voices, it must have been a marvelous place.
"Are you three crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."
The three of them ignored him.
The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.
"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"
They stopped at the warehouse door.
"Don't knock," Ethan told them. "I smell monsters."
"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth said. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"
"Meat!" Grover said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."
"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.
"Those are vegetables," Grover said.
"Come on," Ethan pleaded. He barely pleaded anytime so it caught Y/N's attention. "These statues are...looking at me."
Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of them was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, Y/N assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she was wearing a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all he could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so he imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.
Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"
"They're...um..." Annabeth started to say.
"We're orphans," Y/N said.
"Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But my dears! Surely not!"
"We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"
"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."
They thanked her and went inside.
"Circus caravan?" Y/N muttered to Percy.
"Always have a strategy, right?" Percy said.
"Your head is full of kelp," Annabeth grumbled.
The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. Y/N thought someone must have had a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, he thought: Yummy.
Because of the smell, he didn't care for anything else. He barely noticed Grover's nervous whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow him, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind them. All he cared about was finding the dining area.
And sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.
"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.
"Awesome," Percy said.
"Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."
"No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."
"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.
Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, so Y/N figured out it must have been his imagination.
"Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child." Only later did Y/N wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though they had never introduced themselves.
Their hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before they knew it, she'd brought them plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL serving of French fries.
Y/N was halfway through his burger before he remembered to breathe. Annabeth slurped her shake. Ethan gulped down greedily his fries, always taking more. Grover picked at his, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.
"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.
Y/N listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. Ethan raised his, and pricked up his ear; a shadow darkened his face.
"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fry oil. You have keen ears, Grover."
"I take vitamins. For my ears."
"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."
Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched them eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone staring at him when he couldn't see her face, but Y/N was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and he figured the least he could do was trying to make small talk with their hostess.
"So, you sell gnomes?" he said, trying to sound interested.
"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."
"A lot on business on this road?" Percy asked.
"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built...most car, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."
Y/N's neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at him. He turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.
"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."
"You make these statues yourself?" Y/N asked.
"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that Y/N couldn't help feeling sorry for her.
Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"
"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a...a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone survived, but at a price. Such a price."
Y/N wasn't sure what she meant, but he felt bad for her. His eyelids kept getting heavier, his full stomach making him sleepy. Poor old lady. Who would want to hurt somebody so nice?
"Y/N?" Annabeth was shaking him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." Her voice was tense. Y/N wasn't sure why.
What ringmaster? Oh, yes.
Ethan, too, seemed tense. He glimpsed at the statues warily. Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.
"Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those."
She reached as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go."
"Yes!" Ethan and Grover said simultaneously.
"The ringmaster is waiting! Right!" Ethan added.
Y/N didn't want to leave. He felt full and content. Percy too, apparently. Aunty Em was so nice. He wanted to stay with her for a while.
"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"
"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.
"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."
Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Y/N, Percy—"
"Sure we can," Percy said, sounding irritated. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"
"Yes, Annabeth," the woman purred. "No harm."
Y/N could tell Annabeth didn't like it, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead them back out the front door, into the garden of statues.
Aunty Em directed them to a park bench next to some satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girl in the middle, I think, and two gentlemen on either side."
"Not much light for a photo," Y/N remarked.
"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"
"Where's your camera?" Ethan asked.
Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"
Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."
"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, my dear."
She still had no camera in her hands.
"Y/N—" Annabeth said.
Some instinct told him to listen to Annabeth, but he was fighting the sleepy feeling, the comfortable lull coming from the food and the old lady's voice.
"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...."
"Y/N, something's wrong," Annabeth insisted.
"Don't know," he said dizzily. "What do you think, Percy?"
"Hmm?" Percy mumbled.
"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"
"This is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.
"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed the others off the bench.
Y/N found himself on the ground, looking at a particularly ugly gnome. He heard hoof sounds going one way, Annabeth in another, Percy falling on the ground not far away. But he was too dazed to move.
Then he heard a strange, rasping sound above him. He raised his eyes to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.
He would've looked higher, but somewhere off to his right Annabeth screamed, "No! Don't!"
More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above him, from...from about where Aunty Em's head would be.
"Run for your lives!" Ethan bleated.
"Maia!" Grover shouted somewhere.
Y/N couldn't move. Out of the corner of his eyes he made out Percy spinning on his heels and running away, but his pupils were still fixed on Aunty Em's gnarled claws.
"Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she told him soothingly. "Stay with me, Y/N. All you have to do is look up."
He fought the urge to obey. Instead he looked to one side and saw a gazing ball. He could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents.
Think, he told himself, very much trying not to yell. How did Medusa die in the myth? But he couldn't think. Something told him Medusa had been asleep when Perseus attacked her. She wasn't anywhere near sleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open his face.
"The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Y/N," Medusa said, and she didn't sound at all like a monster. Her voice invited him to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."
"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Run, Y/N!"
"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Y/N. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, my dear Y/N, you need not suffer. You would be my masterpiece, the sole of your kind, the sole Hera's son turned into a statue."
The worst was that, for an instant, it seemed a good idea. But Y/N pushed away that bloody thought, and muttered, "No."
"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen when you all reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain. And that Hera will never have you, you will never have to endure her desires, her tantrums, her foolishness."
"Y/N!" Percy shouted.
He heard a buzzing sound behind him, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Ethan yelled, "Duck!"
He turned, and his eyes bulged out of his skull. There in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat, rushed toward him. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone.
"Coming through!" Grover yelled. "I'll get her!"
That finally jolted Y/N into action. He dove to one side.
Thwack!
At first he thought it was the sound of Grover hitting a tree. Then Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"
"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.
Y/N ran away in the statuary.
Ker-whack!
"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.
Just when Y/N was crouching behind an earthenware vase, Annabeth's voice said, "Y/N!"
He jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!"
Annabeth took of her Yankees cap and became visible. In the background, they could hear Grover flying and attacking blindly Medusa. There were also sounds of garden gnomes breaking on the ground as Ethan threw them blindly on Medusa. Percy arrived next to Y/N.
"You have to cut her head off," Annabeth told them.
"What? Are you crazy?" Percy said. "Let's get out here."
"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult decision. "But you two've got the better weapons. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—well, mostly you, Percy—you've got a chance."
"What? I can't—" Percy started to say.
"Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" Annabeth pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster.
Then she grabbed a green glazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"
"Would you speak English?" Y/N said.
"I am!" She tossed him the glass ball, and another to Percy. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."
"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above them. "I think she's unconscious!"
"Rooooaaarrr!"
"Maybe not," Ethan corrected. He threw more gnomes blindly.
"Hurry," Annabeth said. "Grover's a great nose, but he'll eventually crash."
Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of his sword elongated in his hand.
Seeing that remembered Y/N of his own sword. He hadn't even realized it had disappeared from his hand. It was nowhere to be found. Instead he found the golden ring in his pocket. Really? When I need a sword, I get a wedding band? I don't count on getting married soon!
Percy was already walking backward toward Medusa, his eyes locked on the gazing ball.
"What are you waiting for?" Annabeth said to Y/N. "Go on!"
"Not that I wouldn't like it, but, you see, I've got a little problem," Y/N said, raising the ring. "So, except if you think the prospect of a wedding would delight Medusa, I can't do anything."
Behind them, he heard Grover crashing with a painful "Ummphh!"
"Hey!" Percy's voice yelled.
Using his own glazing ball, Y/N looked at him advancing backward toward Medusa. She let him approach—twenty feet, ten feet.
"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't."
Percy seemed to hesitate, staring at the glazing ball as if not looking back was the hardest thing.
"Percy, don't listen to her!" Grover moaned.
Medusa cackled. "Too late."
She lunged at Percy with her talons. Without anything else left, Y/N shut his eyes and threw the ring where Medusa had to be. She hissed, and he barely managed not to look.
Shlock! A hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating.
Something fell to the ground. Y/N opened his eyes slowly, careful as never before.
"Oh, yuck," Ethan said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but he surely heard the thing gurgling and streaming. "Mega-yuck."
Annabeth came up next to them, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. "Don't move."
Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.
"Are you all okay?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Yeah," Percy said. "Thanks, Y/N."
"Oh, at least that thing can be of some use," Y/N told him, picking the ring on the ground. "Why didn't the head evaporate?"
"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," Annabeth said. "Same as your amphisbaena fang. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."
Grover moaned as he got up. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head.
"The Red Baron," Percy told him. "Good job, man."
Grover managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."
He snatched his shoes out of the air. Percy recapped his sword, which became a plain pen. Then the five of them stumbled back to the warehouse.
They found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. They plopped it on the table where they'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.
Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"
Annabeth flashed him an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up. She's still sweet on your dad, that's why she let you approach. You probably reminded her of him."
"Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa," Percy said.
Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of Percy's voice, she said, "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"
"Forget it," Percy said. "You're impossible."
"You're insufferable," Annabeth retorted.
"You're—"
"Hey!" Ethan interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?"
Y/N stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! Ironic.
What had Medusa said? Do not be the pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Gods certainly seemed annoying sometimes. Why couldn't they sort out their problems by themselves?
He got up. "I'll be back."
"Y/N," Annabeth called after him. "What are you—"
He searched the back of the warehouse until he found Medusa's office. Her account book showed six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. He folded the bill and stuffed it in his pocket.
In the cash register he found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. He rummaged around the rest of the office until he found the right-size box. Perfect.
He went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip:
The Gods
Mount Olympus
600th Floor,
Empire State Building
New York, NY
With deepest sympathy,
Y/N L/N
"They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."
"Add my name," Percy said, grinning.
And with best wishes,
PERCY JACKSON
Y/N poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as he closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!
Ethan clapped, laughing. Annabeth didn't say anything, but her stare said everything.
"Should have write 'Bovine Eyes', I know," Y/N said. "Next time I'll do it."
She rolled her eyes.