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TWENTY, fireball
❀ ✿ ❀ ✿
WHEN ASTER SAW ANNABETH and Clarisse working together, she knew things had gone completely to the wayside. The two of them never saw eye to eye, but they both directed soldiers better than any army general.
There were two bulls causing havoc on the top of the hill. But they weren't just regular bulls—they were bronze ones the size of elephants. They looked like something worthy of Hephaestus himself. Not even Charles Beckendorf could have pulled that creation off. Their size wasn't enough; naturally they had to breathe fire, too.
As soon as Aster, Percy, and Tyson exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra three-drachma payment. They just left them on the side of the road, Aster with nothing but her backpack and knives, Tyson and Percy still in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.
"Oh shit," Aster cursed under her breath, looking at the battle raging on the hill.
What worried her most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated asses whooped. What worried her was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree. That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.
Clarisse shouted, "Border patrol, to me!"
Border patrol? The camp didn't have a border patrol.
"It's Clarisse and Annabeth," Aster said. "Come on, we have to help them!"
Percy stood there for a second, unmoving. He looked like he was weighing his options, and it may have been well warranted. Percy and Clarisse had never gotten along, ever since she tried to shove his head in a toilet on his first day at camp. And neither of them were on good terms with her father, Ares. So, naturally, all of his children hated them now. Clarisse was the bully of the camp, and Aster normally wouldn't have rushed to her aid.
But now, her and Annabeth were in trouble. Their fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. Clarisse and Annabeth seemed to be the only ones with their heads straight on their shoulders. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horsehair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk. Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder. Annabeth stood back from a distance, her knife grasped tightly in her fist, her armor slightly askew. She shouted warnings to Clarisse as the bull tried to gain the upper hand on the girl.
Aster snapped her fingers in Percy's face. "Come on, Seaweed Brain! We don't have all day!"
Percy shook his head, then he uncapped his ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until he held the bronze sword, Anaklusmos—or Riptide.
