Percy Ruins a Perfectly Good Bus
OR
Haha, Old Grandmas Are Fighting Them- Oh...
third person omniscient
-
WHEN STELLE WAS 5, she might've wished once or twice to be some kind of worshipped hero, but that dream fell off (it was in bad taste, anyway; she much preferred to be the person the hero helped).
Anyways, so here she was, living out her surprisingly depressing childhood dreams (two gods. TWO).
It didn't take long to pack. Her backpack, which was always zipped up with all her belongings inside. She counted her things, a small habit she picked up rather than worrying about the Stolls.
Makeup, though she doubted she would have time.
A map of America, which she guessed could be useful, but didn't actually know how to use it. Annabeth probably could.
Notebook, two changes of clothes plus one for Percy, water, and snacks. Stelle knew that carrying all of it would get her exhausted halfway through, but it was all deemed necessary and packed efficiently by Luke.
Ethan approached her with a half smile and something held tightly in his hand. The feeling happened again, that of an emotion not being her own. An unsettling fluttering of her stomach.
"Ethan." She greeted.
"Hi." The Japanese boy said awkwardly. "Er... I heard you got a quest. I got you something as good luck- I mean, you probably don't need it, but I heard that heroes get good luck charms anyways..."
Stelle blinked and raised an eyebrow. "A good luck charm?"
He nodded, gesturing for her to hold out her hand. "You know... quests are dangerous. I hope you come back okay, that's all."
That made her laugh ruefully. As she cupped her palms in front of Ethan, he dropped a silver necklace in it.
"I don't know much about jewelry, or how you're supposed to get silver or gold or whatever to match your skin tone... but I thought silver would be pretty on you." He muttered, ducking his head in embarrassment.
A thin silver chain with a teardrop charm. It wasn't the most extravagant, but she liked it nonetheless. But it put her in debt to him. "It's really pretty... are you just giving it to me?"
"Yeah, It's alright." Ethan said, "But if you survive, I can cash in a favor from you, 'kay?"
Ah, that was the catch. Maybe he was just joking, but in Stelle's experience, being indebted to someone was something that was never good.
"Alright." She agreed. "Put it on for me?"
She flashed him a brief smile and lifted her hair. Another zip of butterflies. Gods, were these her own feelings or somebody else's? It was so confusing.
Ethan fumbled with the clasp for a little, but managed to clip it on. "There."
"Thanks, Ethan." Should she give him a gift as well? She dug through her backpack and with some effort, pulled out the black pearl. "Er, the naiads gave this to me, but it kinda suits you better. In exchange, scrap the favor."
Ethan took it uncertainly, holding it gingerly, as if it were a brittle jewel. His eye shone with a kind of innocent curiosity that nobody would expect from a gloomy kid like him. When he spoke, it was with a sort of sincerity that would make most feel guilty for even beginning to doubt him.
"I'll cherish it."
"Haha, that's a little serious. I'm glad you like it, though." Stelle went back to stuffing things in her bag.
The camp store loaned her one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told them, but Olympians never used less than pure gold.
Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions- whatever that meant. He gave each of the demi-gods a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if they were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded them. It would cure them of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn them up, literally.
"Let me walk you up the hill." Ethan said quickly, picking up Stelle's bag for her and shouldering it.
"Please do."
Stelle and Ethan chatted while hiking up to Thalia's pine tree, atop Half-Blood Hill. Percy was giving them the stink-eye the whole way up, he was already there with Annabeth and Grover.
Chiron was waiting for them in his wheelchair. There was this surfer looking dude as well. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so they could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck.
"This is Argus," Chiron told Percy and Stelle, "He will drive you into the city and, well, keep an eye on things."
They heard footsteps behind them.
Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.
"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."
Annabeth blushed and smiled crazily, the way she always did when Luke was around.
"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy, "And I thought... um, that you might need these."
He handed him the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal (to Percy, at least).
Luke said, "Maia!"
White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling Percy so much, he dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.
"Awesome!" Grover said.
Stelle wrinkled her nose. "How are you supposed to control them..?"
Ethan crossed his arms, "Beats me."
Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course don't use them much these days..." His expression turned sad.
Percy didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. He'd been afraid he might resent him for getting so much attention (albeit unsavory) the last few days. But here he was giving him a magic gift.... It made Percy blush almost as much as Annabeth.
"Hey man," He said, "Thanks."
"Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable, with just a flash of guilt in his eyes that nobody seemed to catch except for Stelle, "Never mind. A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just... kill some monsters for me, okay?"
Percy and Luke shook hands. He clapped Stelle on the shoulder and patted Grover's head between his horns, then gave a good-bye hug to Annabeth, who looked like she might pass out.
"Oh, and Ethan... let's talk." Luke turned to the one-eyed boy, who looked at his feet. Ethan handed Stelle her bag and offered a weak smile.
"Come back alright."
As they left, Luke said something to Ethan that made the tips of his ears turn red, but the conversation seemed to get more serious afterwards.
"You're hyperventilating." Percy told Annabeth smugly.
"Am not."
"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"
"Oh, why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?"
She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys.
Stelle picked up the flying shoes and had a sudden bad feeling. "Hey... won't these count as taking to the air?"
Percy let out a breath and looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"
He shook his head. "Luke meant well, but I don't believe using them would be wise."
"They were so cool, too." Percy grumbled under his breath, but got an idea. "Hey, Grover! Want a magic item?"
His eyes lit up. "Me? Seriously?"
Pretty soon Percy had laced the sneakers over Grover's fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.
"Maia!" he shouted.
He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.
"Practice!" Chiron called after him, "You just need practice!"
"Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van.
Stelle whistled, watching Grover tumble and cartwheel, skimming the grass. "He could be in the Olympics."
"Gymnast gold winner." Percy grinned. Before they could follow, Chiron grabbed Percy's arm. "I should've trained you two better," he said, "Hercules, Jason- they all got more time."
"That's okay, I just wish-"
He stopped himself because he was about to sound like a brat. Percy was wishing his dad had given him a cool magic item to help on the quest, something as good as Luke's flying shoes, or Annabeth's invisible cap.
But Stelle didn't even know who her godly parent was, so who was he to complain? From the sound of it, he got lucky, luckier than he should've been.
"What am I thinking?" Chiron cried. "I can't let you get away without this."
He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to Percy. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents.
"Gee." He said, "Thanks."
"How indispensable." Stelle deadpanned at the sight of the pen.
"Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing that you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one." Chiron said.
He remembered the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when he'd vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown him a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be ... ?
Percy took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in his hand. In half a second, he held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in his hand.
"The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told him, "Its name is Anaklusmos."
"Riptide." Percy translated, pleased that the Ancient Greek came so easily.
"Use it only for emergencies," Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."
Stelle looked at the wickedly sharp blade. "How could it not? It's not like it's going to pass through them or anything."
Chiron's eyes crinkled in amusement. "Actually... the sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided that they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill."
"Get wrecked." Percy said, like the annoying twelve-year old he was. Stelle body-checked him into stumbling, nearly falling down the steep slope.
Chiron continued, "And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."
"Good to know." Stelle narrowed her eyes. What was the point of being a half-blood, half a god, if you were more likely to die than regular mortals?
"Now recap the pen."
Percy touched the pen cap to the sword tip and instantly Riptide shrank to a ballpoint pen again. He tucked it in his pocket, a little nervous, because he was famous for losing pens at school. He couldn't even give it to Stelle because she wasn't any better either; she once lost a whole pack of 24 pencils within a week.
After a quick reassurance from Chiron that it was, in fact, physically impossible to lose the pen, another thought occurred to him.
Just how bad could he mess up?
Turns out, the answer was pretty bad. While Chiron didn't outright say that he would be able to mess up a whole generation of gods, it was pretty implied. Percy was basically told, 'Go with the flow, you're just about to go on the most important quest in the last millennia!'
"Relax," Chiron told them, "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."
"Relax." He murmured darkly, practically threatening himself, "I'm relaxed."
When they got to the bottom of the hill, Percy looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur.
-
Argus drove them out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth, Stelle and Grover sitting next to Percy as if they were normal carpoolers.
After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. Percy found himself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall.
"So far so good," Percy said, "Ten miles and not a single monster."
She gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, Seaweed Brain."
"Remind me again- why do you hate me so much?"
Stelle watched out the window, glad to not be in the middle of their spat. A figure blew past amidst the darkened clouds; swift like the wind and just as bold. She blinked, sitting up. It was nowhere to be seen.
"I don't hate you." Annabeth scoffed, voice dripping with disdain.
"Could've fooled me." Percy scowled.
She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... we're just not supposed to get along, alright? Our parents are rivals."
"Why?"
She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens."
Percy snorted. The gods had much bigger fights, surely?
Annabeth ignored him and went on. "Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."
"Wow, they must really like olives."
That was unfair, Stelle thought, she enjoyed olives a lot.
"Oh, forget it."
"But if she invented pizza-"
"I said, forget it!"
"Maybe she should've invented donuts, that I could understand."
"Percy." Stelle said lightly.
"I'm done, I'm done!"
In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at Percy.
Traffic slowed them down in Queens. By the time they got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain.
Argus dropped them off at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from Percy's mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with his picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS BOY?
Stuck almost directly on top in a hasty job was Stelle's: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? Even in the picture, her eyes were sharp and focused, like a fox's.
Percy ripped them down before anyone else could notice.
Argus unloaded their bags, made sure they got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch them as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Percy thought about how close he was to his old apartment. On a normal day, his mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe would probably up there right then, playing poker, not even missing her.
Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction I was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Percy?"
He stared at the satyr. "Were you reading my mind or something?"
"Just your emotions." He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"
Percy nodded, wondering what else Grover might've forgotten to tell him
"Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover told him. "You and Stelle call him 'Smelly Gabe', but you have no idea. The guy has this aura.... Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week."
"Thanks. Where's the nearest shower?"
"You should be grateful, Percy. Your father smells so repulsively human that he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. Maybe Stelle's too, just by being around you."
That gave Percy a shred of consolation that he didn't completely mess up his best friend's life.
"If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy- if that makes you feel any better."
It didn't, but he forced himself not to show it. 'I'll see her again,' he thought. 'She isn't gone.'
He wondered if Grover could still read my emotions, mixed up as they were. Percy was glad he and Annabeth and Stelle were with him, but he felt guilty that he hadn't been straight with them. He hadn't told them the real reason he'd said yes to this crazy quest.
The truth was, Percy didn't care about retrieving Zeus's lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping his father out of trouble. The more he thought about it, he resented Poseidon for never visiting him, never helping his mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He'd only claimed Percy because he needed a job done.
All Percy cared about was his mom. Hades had taken her unfairly, and Hades was going to give her back.
'You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend,' the Oracle whispered in his mind. 'You will fail to save what matters most in the end.'
'Shut up.' he told it.
The rain kept coming down.
They got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad himself.
Stelle was actually pretty bad at it. She had never, ever, in her life seen this game. Regardless, she was alright for a beginner. The game elicited an unreasonable amount of cursing from her when she messed up, which made Grover blush (he had never had a fondness for bad words).
The game ended when Percy tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, their Hacky Sack disappeared- core, stem, and all.
Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but they were all too busy cracking up.
Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy- enchiladas.
"What is it, Grover?" Stelle asked.
"I don't know." He said tensely, "Maybe it's nothing."
But anybody could tell it wasn't nothing. She started looking over her shoulder, too.
She was relieved when they finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. At least that way they could see everything going on without turning their backs. There was one problem that was very apparent to her. The damn windows didn't open.
They stowed their backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.
An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and Percy's heart skipped a beat.
"Percy." Stelle clamped a hand over his knee, watching the lady apprehensively.
It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face.
He scrunched down in his seat.
Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds- same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.
They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.
The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, trying to keep his voice from quivering, "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."
"Uhm, excuse me, monsters can revive themselves...?" Stelle tried not to go hysterical at the thought; if someone died to a monster that was later slain, how was it fair that the monster came alive again and the mortal didn't?
"Forgot to mention it." Percy whispered.
"Plus, I said if you're lucky. You're obviously not." Annabeth said.
Percy grumbled. "Shit, like I need to be reminded."
"All three of them," Grover whimpered, "Di immortales!"
"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard, "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."
"About that..." Grover moaned.
"They don't open. Terrible safety hazard, I know. Imagine if there were a fire." The brown-eyed girl shrank down in her seat a little more.
"Stelle-" Percy began.
"Not the time, I know. There's no back exit, either. Even if there were, I doubt it would help. They'd slice us to ribbons before we even got it open."
"They won't attack us with witnesses around, will they?" Percy craned his neck to get a better look at the shriveled old women.
"Wouldn't put it past them. Plus, who's gonna be able to stop them even if there were witnesses?" Stelle replied logically.
Annabeth had a more... fantastical answer, in a way. "Mortal's eyes aren't that good." she reminded, "Their brains can only process what they've seen through the mist."
"I hate you both." He said, not liking the answers he got to his question.
They hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.
Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room."
"So do I."
"So do I."
Stelle would've laughed at the monotonous voice had it not spelled out death. As they all started coming down the aisle, gears worked viciously in her mind.
"Annabeth, how many people can your hat turn invisible?"
"One! It won't work for all of us- unless, Percy..."
"What?" He hissed underneath his breath, practically crouched behind the seat in front.
"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away." Annabeth held the cap out.
"But you guys-"
"There's an outside chance they might not notice us. You're a child of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."
On the off-chance that they didn't notice the three demi-gods, wouldn't they tear the bus apart to search for them? Stelle saw the demon-grannies approaching, contorting into inhuman features.
"I can't just leave you."
"Don't be stupid, chouchou. Go, or I'll pre-kill you."
Percy's hands trembled, and his heart twinged at the nickname. He felt like a coward, but he took the Yankees cap and put it on.
When he looked down, his body wasn't there anymore.
Percy started creeping up the aisle. He managed to get up ten rows, then duck into an empty seat just as the Furies walked past.
Stelle watched empty space, unsure where Percy went. It would've been dumb for her to track him anyways, lest they find his position through her eye movement.
Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at a spot she predicted Percy might've been. Stelle's heart was pounding.
Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going.
'He wasn't there.' Stelle breathed out.
Her chest hammered as they laid they're eyes on her group. A bunch of hideous wailing erupted from their mouths.
The old ladies were not old ladies anymore (never were, but she digressed). Their faces were still the same- she supposed those couldn't get any uglier- but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.
The Furies surrounded them, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"
"The girl! Grab the girl!" One of them screeched.
That Fury in particular became her least favorite monster in the world. When they asked which one was her least favorite, she would say the purple one, Stelle decided, disassociating for a moment.
When her mind and her eyes snapped back into focus, her celestial bronze knife was out (the only weapon she could bring without getting caught by mortals immediately). The blade was unbalanced and felt much too light.
The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right.
"He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!"
The Furies raised their whips.
The two followed Stelle's lead as Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.
What Percy did next was so impulsive and dangerous he should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.
There must've been some communication between the Furies, but they decided on a one-on-one type of fight. The Fury that had been screaming for her to be captured had decided that Stelle had done her a great wrong and fought as if it were personal.
Her rational thoughts poured out her head as the adrenaline pumped through her veins.
The Fury made wild grab for her neck.
Red monster blood that seeped down her forearms. The knife she held stuck through the Fury's wrist as the bat-like being howled in fury.
As Stelle pulled the dagger out, the faint whisking of a whip being raised was her only indication that she was about to be sliced in half. She dove over the seats, ignoring the dull throbbing in her ribs.
The shattering of glass with the burning of the seats, and Stelle scrambled to look at the Fury again.
A blur of color, though it shouldn't have been a blur- what was wrong with her eyes? The Kindly One bared her teeth and approached.
Her vision refocused. It was a miracle that Stelle hadn't let go of her weapon. Breathing heavily, she acknowledged the lack of armor and-
There was no time for analyzation. She was about to get decapitated.
The Fury raised her whip again, and it was deadly decision time. Dodge into the pile of broken glass or Annabeth that was engaged in combat with another Fury?
Which one wouldn't cause both of their deaths? Ding ding ding, the glass.
She landed heavily into the glass, feeling some shards dig into her skin. It was strange how she didn't feel it.
Stelle lay there, trying to get up, thinking that it was too late. An hour into the quest and she already failed? Unacceptable. She put her palms onto the seat- there was glass everywhere- groaning, when suddenly, the bus jerked to the left.
A loud snarling from all three of the Underworld monsters.
The bus was going out of control. People and monsters were being tossed around like a well mixed salad, the broken shards of bloodied (her blood, she noticed) glass skidding across the floor.
As they neared some woods and the Hudson River to their right, the bus careened.
It spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him.
The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. Stelle stood, glaring, gore dripping down her shoulder and arms. Her knife was the only one covered completely in blood.
"Hey!"
The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at a now-visible Percy, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle, just as she used to do in class, about to deliver Percy's F- math test. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather.
Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward him like huge nasty lizards.
"Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely much further south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."
"I liked you better as a math teacher." He told her.
She growled.
Percy took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double-edged sword.
The Furies hesitated.
Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again.
"Submit now," she said, "And you will not suffer eternal torment-"
"Blah, blah, blah, eternal torment this, eternal torment that, nice try." Percy laughed condescendingly, sounding braver and cockier than he actually felt.
Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at me.
Percy's hand felt like it was wrapped in molten lead, but he managed not to drop Riptide. He stuck the Fury on the left with its hilt, sending her toppling backward into a seat. Percy turned and sliced the Fury on the right. As soon as the blade connected with her neck, she screamed and exploded into dust.
Warm, wet blood spurted into his face. Why did monsters have blood if they just exploded into dust?
With an almost relieved cry, Stelle finished off the Fury on the left with a concerning amount of relish. She left her dagger buried into its skull before it faded into dust. The celestial bronze knife clattered to the ground.
Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands.
"Ow!" he yelled, "OW! Hot! Hot!"
Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.
"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"
"Braccas meas vescimini!" he yelled.
"...why would you...?" Annabeth muttered.
"Eat my pants? Really?" Stelle frowned.
Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of his neck.
Stelle grabbed her beat up backpack, racing out of the bus. The rest of them didn't need any more encouragement.
They rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before Percy could recap his sword. Nobody would believe it was just red punch covering them.
"Wait, our bags-" Grover said.
BOOM
The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told them Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.
"Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"
They plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind them, and nothing but darkness ahead.