BLOODSHOT . . . piper mclean

52.

EDEN CLIMBED OUT from below, sad from leaving Piper — they were essentially attached by the hip, Eden made sure of that the moment they started dating — but she could appreciate a mean view.

They had landed near the summit of a forested hill. A complex of white buildings, like a museum or a university, nestled in a grove of pines to the left. Below them spread the city of Atlanta — a cluster of brown and silver downtown skyscrapers two miles away, rising from what looked like an endless flat sprawl of highways, railroad tracks, houses, and green swathes of forest.

"Ah, lovely spot." Coach Hedge inhaled the morning air. "Good choice, Valdez."

"Yeah, Fire Boy," Eden smirked. "Good choice."

Leo shrugged. "I just picked a tall hill. That's a presidential library or something over there. At least that's what Festus says."

"I don't know about that!" Hedge barked. "But do you realize what happened on this hill? Frank Zhang, you should know!"

Frank flinched. "I should?"

"A son of Ares stood here!" Hedge cried indignantly.

"I'm Roman . . . so Mars, actually."

"Whatever! Famous spot in the American Civil War!"

"I'm Canadian, actually."

Eden snorted. Loudly.

"Whatever! General Sherman, Union leader. He stood on this hill watching the city of Atlanta burn. Cut a path of destruction all the way from here to the sea. Burning, looting, pillaging — now there was a demigod!"

Frank inched away from the satyr. "Uh, okay."

"Arson. Stealing." Eden nodded. "Respectable dude."

"Anyway," Percy said, "let's try not to burn down the city this time."

Eden pouted. "What a shame, arson is fun."

The coach looked as disappointed as Eden felt. "All right. But where to?"

Percy pointed toward downtown. "When in doubt, start in the middle."

Catching a ride there was easier than they thought. The four of them headed to the presidential library — which turned out to be the Carter Center or whatever — and asked the staff if they could call a taxi or give them directions to the nearest bus stop. Eden could have summoned Techno, but he was busy, for some reason. Percy didn't want to get Blackjack. Frank didn't want to polymorph into anything. It was a shame that Percy wouldn't let her hotwire a car, though.

One of the librarians, whose name was Esther, insisted on driving them personally. She was so nice about it, Eden thought she must be a monster in disguise; but Hedge pulled her and Percy aside and assured them that Esther smelled like a normal human.

"With a hint of potpourri," he said. "Cloves. Rose petals. Tasty!"

"My perfume smells better," Eden muttered, getting in the car.

They piled into Esther's big black Cadillac and drove toward downtown. Esther was so tiny, she could barely see over the steering wheel; but that didn't seem to bother her. She muscled her car through traffic while regaling them with stories about the crazy families of Atlanta — the old plantation owners, the founders of Coca-Cola, the sports stars, and the CNN news people.

"Uh, so, Esther," Percy said, "here's a hard question for you. Salt water in Atlanta. What's the first thing that comes to mind?"

The old lady chuckled. "Oh, sugar. That's easy. Whale sharks!"