Stark's Deadly Daughter (S.P.N.D. Book 4)

Chapter 5: Freaking Demon Pigeons, Man. They Ruin Everything.

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The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees- fat gray-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded me of a radar.

One bird stood out, a black raven with gold eyes. It seemed to be watching me, strange eyes following me wherever I went. Just ignore it.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes. There were rows of stone steps for the spectators- Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating, including me. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate éclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at us like we were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Is that was goes as harsh punishment nowadays? Then again he can't eat, so he is a little biased.

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron- even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. I had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than the latest version of the Iron Man suit.

The Ares chariot was bloodred, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys.

Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, and I shuddered to think what dirty tricks they'd schemed up.

That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by Percy.

The conch horn sounded. "Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

Althea sat beside me near the front so that we could get a good view of the race. Ginny is on the other side of me, a small bag of popcorn in her hands.

"There you are." I tell her, taking a piece and tossing it into my mouth.

"Felt snackish." She replied with ease, though kept looking nervously at the birds. I would ask her about it, but I get the feeling she would brush me off and say it was nerves.

As the chariots lined up, I spotted more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the campers around us were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

Tantalus waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.