Daria felt sick.
Even if they were harpies, it was an injustice. Daria had gotten in trouble too many times at camp for disobeying orders to save people. She wanted to tear Phineas apart with her bare hands, quest be damned.
"That man..." Hazel smacked the side of a bus-stop bench. "He needs to die. Again."
Daria felt more sympathetic for Hazel than the boys. There was nothing like being compared to a ghoul, nothing like your secret getting blasted to the guy you had a crush on. Percy and Frank looked at each other like they weren't sure what to do. Truthfully, Daria wasn't either.
"We'll get him," Percy promised. "He's nothing like you, Hazel. I don't care what he says."
She shook her head. "You don't know the whole story. I should have been sent to Punishment. I — I'm just as bad — "
"No, you're not!" Frank balled his fists. He looked around like he was searching for anybody who might disagree with him — enemies he could hit for Hazel's sake. "She's a good person!" he yelled across the street. A few harpies squawked in the trees, but no one else paid them any attention.
Hazel stared at Frank. She reached out tentatively, as if she wanted to take his hand but was afraid he might evaporate.
"Frank..." she stammered. "I — I don't..."
Unfortunately, Frank seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts. He slung his spear off his back and gripped it uneasily.
"I could intimidate that old man," he offered, "maybe scare him — "
"No," Daria said, taking a deep breath like she was about to go into battle. There were other people at stake, she reminded herself. You can't be so selfish. "We need him, as unfortunate as it is."
Frank scowled at the dragon' s-tooth point, which had grown back completely overnight. "Yeah. I guess...."
Daria wasn't really sure what the old seer had meant about Frank's family history — his great-grandfather destroying camp, his Argonaut ancestor, and the bit about a burned stick. But it had clearly shaken Frank up. Daria decided not to ask for explanations. She didn't want anyone dragging up her past either.
"I've got an idea." Percy pointed up the street. "The red-feathered harpy went that way. Let's see if we can get her to talk to us."
Hazel looked at the food in his hands. "You're going to use that as bait?"
"More like a peace offering," Percy said. "Come on. Just try to keep the other harpies from stealing this stuff, okay?"
Daria drew her weapon. The harpies fluttered after them, perching on trees, mailboxes, and flagpoles, following the smell of food. Percy kept a tight grip. They needed the red one, as much as they wanted to help all the others.
They crossed the street and found a bench to sit on, next to a big bronze sculpture of an elephant.
"Looks like Hannibal," Hazel said.
"Except it's Chinese," Frank said. "My grandmother has one of those." He flinched. "I mean, hers isn't twelve feet tall. But she imports stuff... from China. We're Chinese." He looked at his friends, who were trying hard not to laugh. "Could I just die from embarrassment now?" he asked.
"Don't worry about it, man," Percy said. "Let's see if we can make friends with the harpy." He raised the Thai noodles and fanned the smell upward. The red harpy circled lower.
"We won't hurt you," Percy called up in a normal voice. "We just want to talk. Thai noodles for a chance to talk, okay?"
The harpy streaked down in a flash of red and landed on the elephant statue. She was painfully thin. Her feathery legs were like sticks. Her face would have been pretty except for her sunken cheeks. She moved in jerky birdlike twitches, her coffee-brown eyes darting restlessly, her fingers clawing at her plumage, her earlobes, her shaggy red hair.
"Cheese," she muttered, looking sideways. "Ella doesn't like cheese."
Daria hesitated. "Your name is Ella?"
"Ella. Aella. 'Harpy.' In English. In Latin. Ella doesn't like cheese." She said all that without taking a breath or making eye contact. Her hands snatched at her hair, her burlap dress, the raindrops, whatever moved.
Quicker than Daria could blink, she lunged, snatched the cinnamon burrito, and appeared atop the elephant again.
"Gods, she's fast!" Hazel said.
"And heavily caffeinated," Daria guessed. Though she could relate to that. She wasn't going to judge.
Ella sniffed the burrito. She nibbled at the edge and shuddered from head to foot, cawing like she was dying. "Cinnamon is good," she pronounced. "Good for harpies. Yum."
She started to eat, but the bigger harpies swooped down. Before anyone could react, they began pummeling Ella with their wings, snatching at the burrito.
Daria cursed. If she was a few seconds faster. She and her friends ran up to help but it was too late. A big yellow harpy grabbed the burrito and the whole flock scattered, leaving Ella cowering and shivering on top of the elephant.
Hazel touched the harpy's foot. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Ella poked her head out of her wings. She was still trembling. With her shoulders hunched, Daria could see the bleeding gash on her back where Phineas had hit her with the weed whacker. She picked at her feathers, pulling out tufts of plumage. "S-small Ella," she stuttered angrily. "W- weak Ella. No cinnamon for Ella. Only cheese."
Daria took it back. Fuck the other harpies.
Frank seemed to share her sentiments. He glared across the street, where the other harpies were sitting in a maple tree, tearing the burrito to shreds. "We'll get you something else," he promised.
"Ella," Percy said, setting down the noodles. "We want to be your friends. We can get you more food, but — "
"Friends," Ella said. "Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.'" She glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and started reciting to the clouds.
'"A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds.' Sixteen. You're sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. 'Ingredients: Bacon, Butter.'"
Daria's senses were on high alert. "That was a prophecy." She glanced at Percy who suddenly looked queasy. "Maybe it's something she heard Phineas say?"
At the name Phineas, Ella squawked in terror and flew away.
"Wait!" Daria called. "I didn't mean — Oh, gods, I'm stupid."
"It's all right." Frank pointed. "Look."
Ella wasn't moving as quickly now. She flapped her way to the top of a three-story red brick building and scuttled out of sight over the roof. A single red feather fluttered down to the street.
"You think that's her nest?" Frank squinted at the sign on the building. "Multnomah County Library?"
Hazel nodded. "Let's see if it's open."
They ran across the street and into the lobby.
Daria loved libraries. She loved to read poetry and was always begging whoever was in charge to bring more books to New Rome. It was something she took comfort in.
Percy, apparently, not so much. Without warning, he slammed his fist into the side of a bookshelf. Daria grimaced. What was with everyone today? That would definitely get you a demerit at camp.
"Percy?" Hazel asked gently.
He still looked pissed, but shook it off. "I'm — I'm all right," he said, clearly lying. "Just got dizzy for a sec. Let's find a way to the roof."
It took them a while, but they finally found a stairwell with roof access. At the top was a door with a handle alarm, but someone had propped it open with a copy of War and Peace. Daria prepared herself as they walked out. She hated heights.
Outside, Ella the harpy huddled in a nest of books under a makeshift cardboard shelter. Daria and her friends advanced slowly, trying not to scare her. Ella didn't pay them any attention. She picked at her feathers and muttered under her breath, like she was practicing lines for a play.
Percy got within five feet and knelt down. "Hi. Sorry we scared you. Look, I don't have much food, but..."
He took some of the macrobiotic jerky out of his pocket. Ella lunged and snatched it immediately. She huddled back in her nest, sniffing the jerky, but sighed and tossed it away. "N-not from his table. Ella cannot eat. Sad. Jerky would be good for harpies."
"Not from...Oh, right," Percy said. "That's part of the curse. You can only eat his food."
"There has to be a way," Daria said, crouching beside them.
"'Photosynthesis,'" Ella muttered. '"Noun. Biology. The synthesis of complex organic materials.' 'It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness... '"
"What is she saying?" Frank whispered.
"She's quoting books," Percy guessed.
"Farmer 1 s Almanac 1965" Ella said. "'Start breeding animals, January twenty-sixth.'"
"Ella," Daria said softly, "have you read all of these?"
She blinked. "More. More downstairs. Words. Words calm Ella down. Words, words, words."
Percy picked up a book at random — a tattered copy of A History of Horseracing. "Ella, do you remember the, um, third paragraph on page sixty-two — "
'"Secretariat,"' Ella said instantly, "'favored three to two-in the 1973 Kentucky Derby, finished at standing track record of one fifty-nine and two fifths.'"
Percy closed the book. His hands were shaking. "Word for word."
"That's amazing," Hazel said.
"She's a genius chicken," Frank agreed.
Daria felt uneasy. She was starting to form a terrible idea about why Phineas wanted to capture Ella, and it wasn't because she'd scratched him. She shared a look with Percy and knew that they were thinking the same thing. There was no way Phineas was getting this harpy.
"Ella," she said. Her knees were getting sore. "We're going to find a way to break the curse. Would you like that?"
'"It's Impossible,"' she retorted. "'Recorded in English by Perry Como, 1970.'"
"Nothing's impossible," Percy said. "Now, look, I'm going to say his name. You don't have to run away. We're going to save you from the curse. We just need to figure out a way to beat ... Phineas."
They waited for her to bolt, but she just shook her head vigorously. "N-n-no! No Phineas. Ella is quick. Too quick for him. B-but he wants to ch- chain Ella. He hurts Ella."
She tried to reach the gash on her back.
"Frank," Percy said, "you have first-aid supplies?"
"On it." Frank brought out a thermos full of nectar and explained its healing properties to Ella. When he scooted closer, she recoiled and started to shriek. Then Hazel tried, and Ella let her pour some nectar on her back. The wound began to close.
Hazel smiled. "See? That's better."
"Phineas is bad," Ella insisted. "And weed whackers. And cheese."
"Absolutely," Percy agreed. "We won't let him hurt you again. We need to figure out how to trick him, though. You harpies must know him better than anybody. Is there any way we can trick him?"
"N-no," Ella said. "Tricks are for kids. 50 Tricks to Teach Your Dog, by Sophie Collins, call number six-three-six — "
"Okay, Ella." Hazel spoke in a soothing voice, like she was trying to calm a horse. "But does Phineas have any weaknesses?"
"Blind. He's blind."
Frank rolled his eyes and Daria nudged him, but Hazel continued patiently, "Right. Besides that?"
"Chance," she said. "Games of chance. Two to one. Bad odds. Call or fold."
Daria's spirits rose. "You mean he's a gambler?"
"Phineas s-sees big things. Prophecies. Fates. God stuff. Not small stuff. Random. Exciting. And he is blind."
Frank rubbed his chin. "Any idea what she means?"
Daria watched the harpy pick at her burlap dress. She felt incredibly sorry for her, but she was also starting to realize just how smart the harpy was.
"I think I get it," Daria said. "Phineas sees the future. He knows tons of important events. But he can't see small things — like random occurrences, spontaneous games of chance. That makes gambling exciting for him. If we can tempt him into making a bet..."
Hazel nodded slowly. "You mean if he loses, he has to tell us where Thanatos is. But what do we have to wager? What kind of game do we play?"
"Something simple, with high stakes," Percy said. "Like two choices. One you live, one you die. And the prize has to be something Phineas wants... I mean, besides Ella. That's off the table."
"Sight," Ella muttered. "Sight is good for blind men. Healing. . .nope, nope. Gaea won't do that for Phineas. Gaea keeps Phineas b-blind, dependent on Gaea. Yep."
Frank and Percy exchanged a meaningful look. "Gorgon's blood," they said simultaneously.
"What?" Hazel and Daria asked at the same time. Weird.
Frank brought out the two ceramic vials he'd retrieved from the Little Tiber. "Ella's a genius," he said. "Unless we die."
"Don't worry about that," Percy said. "I've got a plan."
Enjoy! Please comment, I want to hear your opinions!
~M