Luminesence (Slow Updates)

003

Mythologically speaking, if there's anything Phaedra hated worse than trios of old ladies and fashion disasters, it's snakes. It just so happened to be a very unfortunate thing Apollo passed down to his children.

Now she might have to add another animal to this list: bulls. And not just regular bulls—bronze ones the size of elephants. And  even that wasn't bad enough. Naturally these bulls that were attacking camp had to breathe fire, too. Just her luck.

As soon as they 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 the demigods plus Tyson on the side of the road, Phaedra with nothing but her backpack and concealed weapons, Tyson and Percy still  in their burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.
 
"Oh, man," said Phaedra, looking at the battle raging on the hill. 
What worried Phaedra most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor  who were getting their bronze-plated booties 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. 
All I know is that they better not touch that tree.

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice—Clarisse called.

"It's Clarisse," Phaedra said. "Come on, we have to help her."

Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on Percy's "to do" list. She was one  of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time they’d met she tried to introduce his head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of Ares, and he'd had a very serious disagreement with her  father last summer, so now the god of war and all his children basically hated his guts. 

Still, she was in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scat-tering, running in panic as the bulls  charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horse-hair 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. 

Percy uncapped his ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until he held the  bronze sword Anaklusmos in his hands. "Tyson, stay here. I don't want you taking any more  chances." 

"No!" Phaedra said, glancing wearily at the cyclops. "We need him." 

Percy stared at her. "He's mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can't—" 

"Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus  himself. We can't fight them without Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We'll get burned to a  crisp." Phaedra interrupted, irritated that Percy wasn't listening to her.

Hard headed bitch.

"Medea's what?" 

Phaedra rummaged through her backpack and cursed. "I had a jar of tropical coconut scent that Annie gave me, sitting on my night-stand at home. Why didn't I bring it?" 
If it was possible, Percy looked even more confused. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not going to let Tyson get fried." 

Phaedra rolled her eyes, "Percy—" 

"Tyson, stay back." He raised his sword. "I'm going in." 

Tyson tried to protest, but Percy was already running up the hill toward Clarisse, who was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were  listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, lock-ing their shields to form an ox-hide—and-bronze  wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.