Holy cows around.
Man-eating horses, dark days,
Great troubles ablaze.
***
They finally stopped in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around them, on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilt down into the pit, and even when light was shined in it, it was impossible to see the bottom.
Briares slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. "This pit goes straight to Tartarus," he murmured. "I should jump in and save you trouble."
"Don't talk that way," Annabeth told him. "You can come back to camp with us. You can help us prepare. You know more about fighting Titans than anybody."
"I have nothing to offer," Briares said. "I have lost everything."
"What about your brothers?" Tyson asked. "The other two must stand tall as mountains! We can take you to them."
Briares expression morphed to something even sadder: his grieving face. "They are no more. They faded."
The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eye.
"They gave up on life huh," Rhea mumbled.
"They got forgotten and they lose their will to stay immortal," Grover said weakly.
"I must go," Briares said.
"Kronos's army will invade the camp," Tyson said. "We need help."
Briares hung his head. "I cannot, Cyclops."
"You are strong."
"Not anymore." Briares rose.
Rhea's eyes did not leave the opening to the pit as she addressed Briares. "Open your eyes damn it, Tyson believes in you. He risked his life for you and yet you sit there moping how miserable your life is." She glared at him. "Luke will invade Camp Half-Blood through an entrance in camp."
She then told him about Daedalus's workshop and Kronos's golden coffin.
Briares just shook his head. "I cannot, demigod. I do not have a finger gun to win this game." To prove his point, he made one hundred finger guns.
"No wonder you fade," Rhea remarked, her tone tinged with frustration. "It's not just because you rely on mortal belief, which is foolish in the first place. It's also because you give up on yourselves. Do you think we demigods wanted this?" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "But here we are, thrust into battles that have everything to do with us because the gods are utterly useless."
Annabeth's eyes widened, and she tried to interject, "Rhea—"
"We're forced to save their skins, take on quests they throw at us without asking, and if we dare refuse? HAH! That's not an option! They'd kill us if we did!" Rhea spat. "And what do we get in return for risking our lives, coming back barely alive or missing limbs? Not a simple 'thank you,' no, that's too much to ask for! What we get is either a forced 'good job' or 'you could have done better'!" Rhea paused for a moment, simmering with frustration. "And you want to know whose fault this entire war is? Zeus!"
"Rhea!" Annabeth called out again.
"If he had listened to me years ago when I warned him about Kronos rising from Tartarus and took it seriously, we could have avoided so much!" Rhea continued, her anger unabated. "Years of preparation gone to waste because he was in denial about the fact that his cursed father is rising !"
"Rhea—"
"Shush!" Rhea silenced Annabeth and turned back to Briares. "Do you think any of us want to face monsters rising from Tartarus or go to war? No! We're kids! It's not our job to face Kampê and the like. It's the gods' duty! But they're not as powerful as they were during the first war!" Rhea's frustration was palpable.
Annabeth made another attempt to intervene, but she was pushed aside.
"They'll never admit that the lack of human faith weakened them compared to before, even though it's glaringly obvious and an open secret! And most of the monsters are their own creations. Curse this mortal for being better than me, curse that one for insulting me, and I'm too childish to ignore their words, so let's turn them into monsters for heroes to deal with! Let's curse a mortal to fall in love with a bull because Poseidon has too much of an ego and got angry about the bull not being sacrificed, which resulted in the birth of the Minotaur that I have to deal with nearly every week!" Rhea shouted. "So, they need support from us, demigods! They need us! They need our support, and they can't say it, so they drop hints everywhere! We're the reason why they haven't faded yet, yet they treat us like trash!"
"RHEA!"
"What?" Rhea glared.
Annabeth wore a sad frown and turned to Briares, who looked at Rhea with his pure brown eyes, his face cycling through expressions of shame, sadness, despair, and dejection.
Rhea sneered before taking a deep breath and sighing. "Get out of here," she said, pointing towards the shadows. "And remember, you're either with us or you can stay in your corner being useless, knowing you could have done something."
Briares stood up, turned, and trudged down the corridor until he disappeared into the shadows.
Tyson sobbed.
"It's okay," Grover hesitantly patted his shoulder, summoning all his courage.
Tyson sneezed. "It's not okay, goat boy. He was my hero."
Finally, Annabeth spoke, shouldering her backpack. "Come on, guys. This pit is making me nervous. Let's find a better place to camp for the night."
Tyson turned to Rhea. "Sister...do you hate Dad?"
Rhea glared. "Why does it matter to you?"
Tyson's shoulders slumped. Behind them, Annabeth and Grover exchanged worried glances. This was bad. Rhea had never been this rude or snapped at Tyson before.
***
They settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could've been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Annabeth decided this was a good sign.
"We must be close to Daedalus's workshop," she said. "Get some rest, everybody. We'll keep going in the morning."
"How do we know when it's morning?" Grover asked.
"Just rest," she insisted.
Grover didn't need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no time.
Tyson took longer getting to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps from his building kit for a while, but whatever he was making, he wasn't happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces.
Rhea approached him and sat. "I'm sorry."
Tyson looked up. His eye was bloodshot from crying and sniffed.
"I'm sorry for snapping at you, I shouldn't have done so," Rhea said.
"It's okay."
"No! No, it's not okay! I was angry and ended up snapping at you for..." Rhea bit her lip. "For a question I'm still confused about."
"It's okay if you don't like dad! You don't...you don't have to." Tyson patted her on her shoulder.
Rhea leaned her head back against the wall. "Tyson please this is not about me, it's about you, I was rude, and I didn't have the right to snap at you, heck you don't have to forgive me for it either! Just because I'm your sister doesn't mean that you can ignore the fact that I was rude to you and forgive me just because I said sorry."
"But I forgive you because you didn't mean to be mean to me, it's okay, happens to a lot of people, you were angry you didn't mean to say that," Tyson said. "
"I'm also sorry about screaming at Briares," Rhea said.
"You wouldn't have been angry if Briares had helped," Tyson said.
"He was scared...heck who wouldn't."
"He is not strong," Tyson said. "He is not important anymore."
He heaved a big sad sigh, then closed his eye. The metal pieces fell out of his hand, still unassembled, and Tyson began to snore.
Rhea stood up and sat where Annabeth was sitting, keeping watch.
"I never seen you so angry before," Annabeth said.
"...Yeah well, normally I take out my anger during training or punching boulders," Rhea said.
"That's not a healthy coping mechanism." The grey-eyed girl said.
"If I spoke to a therapist then that therapist will need a therapist of his own," Rhea mumbled. "And I don't want to speak to someone who thinks they understand and give me shit advice."
Annabeth brushed her hair out of her face. She had a smudge of dirt on her chin.
"You have dirt on your chin," Rhea said as she passed Annabeth a wet wipe from her bag.
"I just wish the quest was logical," Annabeth complained as she took the wipe. "I mean, we're travelling but we have no idea where we'll end up. How can you walk from New York to California in a day?"
"Space and time magic or something."
"I know, I know. It's just..." She looked at Rhea hesitantly. "Rhea, I was kidding myself. All that planning and reading, I don't have a clue where we're going."
"You're a daughter of Athena," Rhea said.
Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
"Look...you're used to planning everything, so you won't be surprised, and it works 99% of the time," Rhea said. "And now you are facing the unpredictable, think of the maze like the sea, you can't predict when the current is going to change or when and where a vortex is going to appear."
"You seem to predict things just fine."
Rhea deadpanned. "Annabeth you really don't want to go there trust me." She crossed her legs. "Here are the things that you do, 1- make the plan, 2- execute the plan, and 3- things go according to plan, am I right ?"
"Well yes but—"
"Uh-huh, now here's the situation here." Rhea cleared her throat. "We are in a maze that is made to confuse you, so you do four things: Make the plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails, and throw away the plan."
Annabeth gave her a blank look. "You can't be serious."
"Annabeth I bullshit-ed my way through things my whole life and I'm fine, don't worry we will be able to go through this," Rhea said.
Annabeth giggled for a moment while shaking her head but that quickly faded away.
"Rhea, what did Hera mean when she said you knew the way to get through the maze?"
The green-eyed girl patted her on the back. "It's not time yet."
Annabeth groaned.
They sat in silence, listening to strange creaks and groans in the maze, the echo of stones grinding together as tunnels changed, grew, and expanded.
"Also Nico is down here somewhere," Rhea said. "That's how he disappeared and why we couldn't find him. He found the Labyrinth. Then he found a path that led down to the Underworld. But now he's back in the maze."
Annabeth was quiet for a long time. "Rhea, I hope you're wrong. But if you're right..." she stared at the flashlight beam, casting a dim circle on the stone wall.
"Go to sleep I'll take first watch I'll wake you if anything happens."
Annabeth looked like she wanted to protest, but she just nodded, slumped into her bedroll, and closed her eyes.
Rhea said nothing at the blond who leaned against the wall or at Aidoneus who sat beside her.
Poseidonas looked down at her and Rhea returned his stare, the three decided to enjoy the silence and each other's company.
***
When it was Rhea's turn to sleep, she dreamed she was back in the old man's Labyrinth prison.
It looked more like a workshop now. The tables were littered with measuring instruments. A forge burned red hot in the corner. The boy -Icarus- was seen stoking the bellows, except he was taller now, almost Rhea's age.
A weird funnel device was attached to the forge's chimney, trapping the smoke and heat, and channelling it through a pipe into the floor, next to a big bronze manhole cover.
It was daytime. The sky above was blue, but the walls of the maze cast deep shadows across the workshop.
The old man looked sickly. He was terribly thin, his hands raw and red from working. White hair covered his eyes, and his tunic was smudged with grease. He was bent over a table, working on some kind of long metal patchwork—like a swath of chain mail. He picked up a delicate curl of bronze and fitted it into place.
"Done," he announced. "It's done."
He picked up his project. It was so beautiful, with metal wings constructed from thousands of interlocking bronze feathers. There were two sets. One still lay on the table. Daedalus stretched the frame, and the wings expanded twenty feet. The craftsmanship was amazing. Metal feathers caught the light and flashed thirty different shades of gold.
The boy left the bellows and ran over to see. He grinned, despite the fact that he was grimy and sweaty. "Father, you're a genius!"
The old man smiled. "Tell me something I don't know, Icarus. Now hurry. It will take at least an hour to attach them. Come."
"You first," Icarus said. The old man protested, but Icarus insisted. "You made them, Father. You should get the honour of wearing them first."
The boy attached a leather harness to his father's chest, like climbing gear, with straps that ran from his shoulders to his wrists. Then he began fastening on the wings, using a metal canister that looked like an enormous hot-glue gun.
"The wax compound should hold for several hours," Daedalus said nervously as his son worked. "But we must let it set first. And we would do well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals—"
"And the sun's heat would loosen them," the boy finished. "Yes, Father. We've been through this a million times!"
"One cannot be too careful."
"I have complete faith in your inventions, Father! No one has ever been as smart as you."
The old man's eyes shone. It was obvious he loved his son more than anything in the world.
"Now I will do your wings and give mine a chance to set properly. Come!"
It was slow going. The old man's hands fumbled with the straps. He had a hard time keeping the wings in position while he sealed them. His own metal wings seemed to weigh him down, getting in his way while he tried to work.
"Too slow," the old man muttered. "I am too slow."
"Take your time, Father," the boy said. "The guards aren't due until—"
BOOM!
The workshop doors shuddered. Daedalus had barred them from the inside with a wooden brace, but still, they shook on their hinges.
"Hurry!" Icarus said.
BOOM! BOOM!
Something heavy was slamming into the doors. The brace held, but a crack appeared in the left door.
Daedalus worked furiously. A drop of hot wax spilt onto Icarus's shoulder. The boy winced but did not cry out. When his left wing was sealed into the straps, Daedalus began working on the right.
"We must have more time," Daedalus murmured. "They are too early! We need more time for the seal to hold."
"It'll be fine," Icarus said, as his father finished the right wing. "Help me with the manhole—"
CRASH!
The doors splintered and the head of a bronze battering ram emerged through the breach. Axes cleared the debris, and two armed guards entered the room, followed by the king with the golden crown and the spear-shaped beard.
"Well, well," the king said with a cruel smile. "Going somewhere?"
Daedalus and his son froze, their metal wings glimmering on their backs.
"We're leaving, Minos," the old man said.
King Minos chuckled. "I was curious to see how far you'd get on this little project before I dashed your hopes. I must say I'm impressed." The king admired their wings. "You look like metal chickens," he decided. "Perhaps we should pluck you and make a soup."
The guards laughed stupidly.
"Metal chickens," one repeated. "Soup."
"Shut up," the king said. Then he turned again to Daedalus. "You let my daughter escape, old man. You drove my wife to madness. You killed my monster and made me the laughingstock of the Mediterranean. You will never escape me!"
Icarus grabbed the wax gun and sprayed it at the king, who stepped back in surprise. The guards rushed forward, but each got a stream of hot wax in his face.
"The vent!" Icarus yelled to his father.
"Get them!" King Minos raged.
Together, the old man and his son pried open the manhole cover, and a column of hot air blasted out of the ground. The king watched, incredulous, as the inventor and son shot into the sky on their bronze wings, carried by the updraft.
"Shoot them!" the king yelled, but his guards had brought no bows.
One threw his sword in desperation, but Daedalus and Icarus were already out of reach. They wheeled above the maze and the king's palace then zoomed across the city of Knossos and out past the rocky shores of Crete.
Icarus laughed. "Free, Father! You did it."
The boy spread his wings to their full limit and soared away in the wind.
"Wait!" Daedalus called. "Be careful!"
But Icarus was already out over the open sea, heading north and delighting in their good luck. He soared up and scared an eagle out of its flight path, then plummeted toward the sea like he was born to fly, pulling out of a nosedive at the last second. His sandals skimmed the waves.
"Stop that!" Daedalus called. But the wind carried his voice away. His son was drunk on his own freedom.
The old man struggled to catch up, gliding clumsily after his son. They were miles from Crete, over deep sea, when Icarus looked back and saw his father's worried expression.
Icarus smiled. "Don't worry, Father! You're a genius! I trust your handiwork—"
The first metal feather shook loose from his wings and fluttered away. Then another. Icarus wabbled in midair. Suddenly he was shedding bronze feathers, which twirled away from him like a flock of frightened birds.
"Icarus!" his father cried. "Glide! Extend the wings. Stay as still as possible!"
But Icarus flapped his arms, desperately trying to reassert control. The left-wing went first—ripping away from the straps.
"Father!" Icarus cried. And then he fell, the wings stripped away until he was just a boy in a climbing harness and a white tunic, his arms extended in a useless attempt to glide.
Into the sea, to his death, three hundred feet below.
Rhea opened her eyes. "And he died laughing..."
***
There was no morning in the maze, but once everyone woke up and had a fabulous breakfast of granola bars and juice boxes, they kept travelling.
The old stone tunnels changed to dirt with cedar beams, like a gold mine or something.
Annabeth started getting agitated.
"This isn't right," she said. "It should still be stone."
They came to a cave where stalactites hung low from the ceiling. In the centre of the dirt floor was a rectangular pit, like a grave.
Grover shivered. "It smells like the Underworld in here."
Rhea shined her flashlight into the hole and saw a half-chewed cheeseburger floating in brown carbonated muck.
"Nico was summoning the dead again," Rhea said.
Tyson whimpered. "Ghosts were here. I don't like ghosts."
"Cows...Holy Cows." Rhea mumbled as she continued to walk faster.
"Rhea!" Annabeth called.
Rhea ducked into a tunnel and saw light up ahead. By the time Annabeth, Tyson, and Grover caught up with her, she was staring at daylight streaming through a set of bars above her head.
They were under a steel grate made out of metal pipes. She could see trees and blue sky. Then a shadow fell across the grate and a cow stared down at her.
It looked like a normal cow except with was a weird color—bright red, like a cherry. The cow mooed, put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away.
"It's a cattle guard," Grover said.
"Huh."
"They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can't get out. They can't walk on them."
"Must be annoying," Rhea said.
Grover huffed indignantly. "Believe me, you have no idea !"
Rhea punched the cattle guard, and it popped off then she pushed it aside.
"...I will never get used to your strength," Grover said.
Rhea turned to Annabeth. "Hera said something about a ranch, let's go and check it out. Nico might be there."
She hesitated. "All right."
Tyson gave them a boost out of the tunnel.
They were on a ranch, all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with oak trees, cactuses and boulders. A barbed wire fence ran from the gate in either direction. Cherry-coloured cows roamed around, grazing on clumps of grass.
"Red cattle," Annabeth said. "The cattle of the sun."
"Holy Cows of Apollo," Rhea said then snorted. "Holy Cows hehe."
"Wait," Grover said. "Listen."
At first, everything seemed quiet...but then they heard it: the distant baying of dogs. The sound got louder. Then the underbrush rustled, and two dogs broke through. Except it wasn't two dogs. It was one dog with two heads. It looked like a greyhound, long and snaky and sleek brown, but its neck V-ed into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling and generally not very glad to see them.
"Bad Janus dog!" Tyson cried.
"Arf!" Grover told it and raised a hand in greeting.
"That won't work," Rhea said.
And she was right, the two-headed dog bared its teeth they weren't impressed that Grover could speak animal. Then its master lumbered out of the woods, and the dog was the least of their problems.
He was a huge guy with stark white hair, a straw cowboy hat, and a braided white beard— kind of like Father Time if Father Time went redneck and got totally jacked. He was wearing jeans, a DON'T MESS WITH TEXAS T-shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so you could see his muscles.
On his right bicep was a crossed-swords tattoo. He held a wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead, with six-inch spikes bristling at the business end.
"Heel, Orthus," he told the dog.
The dog growled at them once more, just to make his feelings clear, then circled back to his master's feet. The man looked them up and down, keeping his club-ready.
"What've we got here?" he asked. "Cattle rustlers?"
"Just travellers," Annabeth said. "We're on a quest."
The man's eye twitched. "Half-bloods, eh?"
Annabeth put her hand on my arm. "I'm Annabeth, daughter of Athena. This is Rhea, the daughter of Poseidon. Grover the satyr. Tyson the—"
"Cyclops," the man finished. "Yes, I can see that." He glowered at Rhea. "And I know half-bloods because I am one, sonny. I'm Eurytion, the cowherd for this here ranch. Son of Ares. You came through the Labyrinth like the other one, I reckon. We get a load of visitors from the Labyrinth," Eurytion said darkly. "Not many ever leave."
"What a warm welcome." Rhea sarcastically said.
The cowherd glanced bend him like someone was watching. Then he lowered his voice. "I'm only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now. Before it's too late."
"We're not leaving," Annabeth insisted. "Not until we see this other demigod. Please."
Eurytion grunted. "Then you leave me no choice, missy. I've got to take you to the boss."
***
Eurytion walked alongside us with his club across his shoulder. Orthus the two-headed dog growled a lot, sniffed at Grover's legs and shot into the bushes once in a while to chase animals, but Eurytion kept him more or less under control.
They walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. It must've been close to a hundred degrees, which was a shock after San Francisco. Heat shimmered off the ground. Insects buzzed in the trees.
Flies swarmed them. Every so often they'd see a pen full of red cows or even stranger animals. Once they passed a corral where the fence was coated in asbestos. Inside, a herd of fire-breathing horses milled around.
The hay in their feeding trough was on fire. The ground smoked around their feet, but the horses seemed tame enough. One big stallion looked at Rhea and whinnied, columns of red flame billowing out his nostrils.
Finally, they came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above them was a big ranch house—all white stone and wood and big windows.
"It looks like a Frank Lloyd Wright!" Annabeth said.
Rhea had to whack her brain for a mental image of what Annabeth was talking about to appear so she could link what she said with it.
They hiked up the hill.
"Don't break the rules," Eurytion warned as they walked up the steps to the front porch. "No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't make any comments about the boss's appearance."
Then a new voice said, "Welcome to the Triple G Ranch."
Rhea looked at his body...or bodies. He had three of them.
This guy was three complete people. His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests, one to either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits, if that makes any sense.
The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very beefy legs, and he wore the most oversized pair of Levis she had ever seen. His chests each wore a different colour Western shirt—green, yellow, red, like a stoplight.
The cowherd Eurytion nudged me. "Say Hello to Mr. Geryon."
"Hi." Rhea forced out.
Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico di Angelo came out of the glass doors onto the porch. "Geryon, I won't wait for—" He froze when he saw them. Then he drew his sword. The blade was short, sharp, and dark as midnight.
Geryon snarled when he saw it. "Put that away, Mr. Di Angelo. I ain't gonna have my guests killin' each other."
"But that's—"
"Rhea Jackson," Geryon supplied. "Annabeth Chase. And a couple of their monster friends. Yes, I know."
"Monster friends?" Grover said indignantly.
"That man is wearing three shirts," Tyson said, like he was just realizing this.
"They let my sister die!" Nico's voice trembled with rage. "They're here to kill me!"
Nico glared at Rhea who had a blank look on her face, her eyes didn't meet his.
"Wait a minute," Annabeth pointed at Geryon. "How do you know our names?"
The three-bodied man winked. "I make it my business to keep informed, darlin'. Everybody pops into the ranch from time to time. Everyone needs something from ole Geryon. Now, Mr. Di Angelo, put that ugly sword away before I have Eurytion take it from you."
Eurytion sighed, but he hefted his spiked club. At his feet, Orthus growled.
Nico hesitated. He looked thinner and paler than he had in the Iris messages. His black clothes were dusty from travelling in the Labyrinth, and his dark eyes were full of hate. He was too young to look so angry.
Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword. "If you come near me, Rhea, I'll summon help. You don't want to meet my helpers, I promise."
Rhea scoffed amused. "You need support in battle against me Di Angelo? Can't face me without a small army? How disappointing."
Nico's glare intensified and he was about to take out his sword again was it not for Geryon patting him on the shoulder? "There, we've all made nice. Now come along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch."
***
Geryon had a trolley thing—like one of those kiddie trains that take you around zoos. It was painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The driver's car had a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell.
"This is embarrassing..." Rhea mumbled.
Nico sat in the very back, probably so he could keep an eye on them. Eurytion crawled in next to him with his spiked club and pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap.
Orthus jumped in the front seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in two-part harmony. Annabeth, Tyson, Grover, and Rhea took the middle two cars.
"We have a huge operation!" Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. "Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too."
They came over a hill, and Annabeth gasped. "Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct!"
At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of the weirdest animals ever. Each had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster. Their rear feet were huge yellow claws. They had feathery tails and red wings.
Two of them got in a fight over a pile of seed. They reared up on their wings at each other until the smaller one galloped away, its rear bird legs putting a little hop in its step.
"Rooster ponies," Tyson said in amazement. "Do they lay eggs?"
"Once a year!" Geryon grinned in the rearview mirror. "Very much in demand for omelettes!"
"That's horrible!" Annabeth said. "They must be an endangered species!"
Geryon waved his hand. "Gold is gold, darling. And you haven't tasted the omelettes."
"That's not right," Grover murmured, but Geryon just kept narrating the tour.
"Now, over here," he said, "We have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on your way in. They're bred for war, naturally. And over yonder, of course, are our prize red cows."
Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-coloured cattle were grazing the side of the hill.
"So many," Grover said.
"Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see them," Geryon explained. "So he subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because there's such a demand."
"Let me guess, food?" Rhea said.
Geryon grinned. "Of course! Armies have to eat."
"You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?" Grover said. "That's against ancient laws!"
"Oh, don't get so worked up, satyr. They're just animals."
"Just animals!"
"Yes, and if Apollo cared, I'm sure he would tell us."
"But the thing is, he doesn't know," Rhea said while looking at the cows.
Nico sat forward. "I don't care about any of this, Geryon. We had business to discuss, and this wasn't it!"
"All in good time, Mr. di Angelo. Look over here; some of my exotic game."
The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions.
"Triple G Ranch," Rhea elbowed Annabeth. "His mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from this guy."
"Now, over here are my prize stables! You must see them."
"Oh, I can smell them from here," Rhea mumbled as she put a hand on her nose.
Near the banks of a green river was a horse corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About a hundred horses were milling around in the muck—it was like a poop blizzard had come through and dumped four feet of the stuff overnight.
The horses were really gross from wading through it, and the stables were just as bad. It reeked like you would not believe—worse than the garbage boats on the East River.
Even Nico gagged. "What is that?"
"My stables!" Geryon said. "Well, actually they belong to Aegas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren't they lovely?"
"They're disgusting!" Annabeth said.
"Lots of poop," Tyson observed.
"How can you keep animals like that?" Grover cried.
"Y'all getting' on my nerves," Geryon said. "These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions."
"Plus, you're too cheap to have them cleaned," Eurytion mumbled from under his hat.
"Quiet!" Geryon snapped. "All right, perhaps the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients still pay me well. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time."
"You're a monster," Annabeth decided.
Rhea gave a 'really ?' look to Annabeth.
Geryon stopped the moo-mobile and turned to look at her. "What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?"
"You have to let these animals go," Grover said. "It's not right!"
"And the clients you keep talking about," Annabeth said. "You work for Kronos, don't you? You're supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need."
Geryon shrugged, which was very weird since he had three sets of shoulders. It looked like he was doing the wave all by himself. "I work for anyone with gold, young lady. I'm a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer."
He climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled toward the stables as if enjoying the fresh air. It would've been a nice view, with the river and the trees and hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck.
Her bracelet vibrated as it lost its colour a bit, clearly, the two gods inhabiting the plane did not appreciate the smell and closed off the connection to the outside.
Nico got out of the back car and stormed over to Geryon. The cowherd Eurytion wasn't as sleepy as he looked. He hefted his club and walked after Nico.
"I came here for business, Geryon," Nico said. "And you haven't answered me."
"Mmm." Geryon examined a cactus. His left arm reached over and scratched his middle chest. "Yes, you'll get a deal, all right."
"My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need."
"Oh, I imagine I could," the rancher said. "Your ghost friend, by the way, where is he?"
Nico looked uneasy. "He can't form in broad daylight. It's hard for him. But he's around somewhere."
Geryon smiled. "I'm sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get...difficult."
"You mean that evil king of Crete? Talk about taking advice from the wrong sort." Rhea commented.
"It's none of your business, Rhea!" Nico turned back to Geryon. "And what do you mean about things getting difficult?"
The three-bodied man sighed. "Well, you see, Nico—can I call you Nico?"
"No."
"You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for half-bloods. Especially powerful half-bloods. And I'm sure when he learns your little secret, who you really are, he'll pay very, very well indeed."
Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion knocked it out of his hand. Rhea's quick reflex kicked in which made her raise her leg and kick Orthus the moment he tried to pounce on her chest she jumped out creating a distance between the dog and her.
"Lucky girl," Geryon growled. "Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure Nico while Orthus keeps the girl occupied."
The cowherd spit into the grass. "Do I have to?"
"Yes, you fool!"
Eurytion looked bored, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler.
"Pick up the sword, too," Geryon said with distaste. "There's nothing I hate worse than Stygian Iron."
Eurytion picked up the sword, careful not to touch the blade.
"Now," Geryon said cheerfully, "we've had the tour. Let's go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris message to our friends in the Titan army."
"You fiend!" Annabeth cried.
Geryon smiled at her. "Don't worry, my dear. Once I've delivered Mr. Di Angelo, you and your party can go. I don't interfere with quests. Besides, I've been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I'm afraid, include Mr. Di Angelo.
"Paid by whom?" Annabeth said. "What do you mean?"
"Never you mind, darlin'. Let's be off, shall we?"
"Hold your horses Geryon, let's make me a deal," Rhea said.
Geryon narrowed his eyes. "What sort of deal? Do you have gold?"
"Something better."
"But Miss. Jackson, you've got nothing."
"You could have her clean the stables," Eurytion suggested innocently.
"Sure" Rhea shrugged. "If I fail, you get all of us. Trade us all to Luke for gold."
"Assuming the horses don't eat you," Geryon observed.
"So here's the terms of the deal, if I lose you get my friends and me, but if I win you've got to let all of us go, including Nico."
"No!" Nico screamed. "Don't do me any favours, Rhea. I don't want your help!"
"You shut the fuck up." Rhea retorted without looking at him.
Geryon chuckled. "Rhea Jackson, those stables haven't been cleaned in a thousand years...though it's true I might be able to sell more stable space if all that poop was cleared away."
"And?"
The rancher hesitated. "All right, I'll accept your offer, but you have to get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich."
"Deal."
He nodded. "I'm going to take your friends with me, back to the lodge. We'll wait for you there."
Eurytion gave Rhea a funny look. He whistled, and the dog backed away then jumped onto Annabeth's lap. She yelped. Tyson and Grover would never try anything as long as Annabeth was hostage.
Rhea locked eyes with Annabeth.
"I hope you know what you're doing," Annabeth said quietly.
"Don't worry."
Geryon got behind the driver's wheel. Eurytion hauled Nico into the backseat.
"Sunset," Geryon reminded me. "No later."
He laughed at her once more, sounded his cowbell horn, and the moo-mobile rumbled off down the trail.
"A maid job." Poseidonas expressed his disgust.
"I don't want to do it, but I have to."
"Hmpf."
"...I'm not going to hear the end of this from you am I ?" Rhea pouted.
"Aidoneus I can hear you sipping wine."
"Fufu."
Notes: To explain the power balance between ROR and PJO Gods :
PJO Gods rely on human faith to stay strong, since humans don't have faith in them anymore they aren't as powerful as they were, and the only things keeping them alive are the demigods and the Western civilization, if the demigods went POOF they will be weakened more and fade slowly.
ROR Gods on the other hand don't need human faith to be strong, they rely on their own power to become/stay strong hence the death of humanity won't affect their power at all.
Between ROR and PJO Gods, ROR Gods will win because they are still strong while PJO Gods will lose because they got weak, not to mention I am not downplaying the power like in ROR Manga, which means ROR Gods have the same powers PJO/Myth ones have + they are anime buffed.
It also means Demigods/Gods of PJO won't stand a chance in a physical fight with the likes of Sasaki (physical no power)
Also like PJO one they bleed Ichor AKA Gold Blood, not Red I don't know WHY some shows like ROR and Blood of Zeus ignore that the Gods have golden blood and not red blood like mortals.
A Source besides Wiki: Ichor