The Thief // pjo

Chapter Eleven // We Kick A Relative In The Stupid Face

    I stared at the burning city, my chest aching from the smoke and Percy's sacrifice.

The bag on my back was so heavy, weighted with an object, that order to return it on time was the cost of Ms. Jackson's freedom.

But it was also the item that caused all the strife.

Everyone blamed Percy for stealing it, but really, it was the annoying god of war.

I reached over and grabbed Percy's hand as I stared at the buildings on fire, silhouetted by the sunrise.

    "I don't believe it," Annabeth breathed from my other side. "We went all that way—"

    "It was a trick," Percy said, his voice angry. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

    "Hey."

    "You get it, don't you?"

    Annabeth dropped her burning gaze to the ground, her features melting into one of despair, "Yeah, I get it."

   "Well, I don't!" Grover bleated. "Would somebody—"

    "Percy," I said quietly, looking at my brother. "I'm sorry about your mother...I'm so sorry."

    He didn't answer, and I knew he was struggling not to cry.

    Instead, he said, "The prophecy was right. 'You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt and Hades's helm and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

    He started to walk, pulling me with him, not for a second letting me go.

    "But who would be that sneaky?" Grover asked, obviously missing the point. "Who would want war that bad?"

    My eyes lifted, and I groaned in disgust, "Gee, let's rule out some people, shall we? Ope! Actually! Would you like at that?!"

    Just down the beach stood Ares in his stupid leather duster, with his stupid aluminum baseball bat on his shoulder and his stupid motorcycle rumbling beside him.

    "Hey, kids," Ares smirked at Percy and me. "You were supposed to die."

    "You tricked me," Percy snarled at him. "You stole the Helm and the Master Bolt."

    Ares continued to grin meanly at us, "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

    "Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

    "Doesn't matter," Ares waved my brother off. "The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this ..."

    My eyes widened as he pulled a ski cap from his pocket, dropping it between the handlebars of his bike.

    It flashed and changed into a bronze war helmet.

    But not just any helmet it was—

    "The Helm of Darkness," Grover gasped my exact thoughts.

    "Exactly," Ares smirked at the satyr. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."