Crimson Rivers [1] - Percy jackson

Chapter 15: Water Boy Vs Ares

A Coast Guard boat picked us up, but they were too busy to keep us for long, or to wonder how four kids in street clothes had gotten out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls. They dropped us off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around our
shoulders and water bottles that said I’M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off
to save more people. Our clothes were sopping wet, even mine. When the Coast Guard boat had appeared, I’d silently prayed they wouldn’t pick Percy out of the water and find him perfectly dry, which might’ve raised some eyebrows. But sure enough, his usual waterproof magic had abandoned him. I was also barefoot, because he’d given my shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of us was barefoot than wonder why one of us had hooves.

After reaching dry land, we stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. I felt as if I’d just come back from the dead—which I had. My backpack was heavy with Zeus’s master bolt. My heart was even heavier from seeing my mother. “I don’t believe it,” Annabeth said. “We went all that way—”

“It was a trick,” I said. “A strategy worthy of Athena.”

“Hey,” she warned.

“You get it, don’t you?"

She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. “Yeah. I get it.”

“Well, I don’t!” Grover complained. “Would somebody—”

“Percy…” Annabeth said. “I’m sorry about your mother. I’m so sorry.…”

He pretended not to hear her. “The prophecy was right,” He said. “‘You shall go west and face the god who has turned.’ But it wasn’t Hades. Hades didn’t want war among the BigbThree. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus’s master bolt,
and Hades’s helm, and framed us because Percys Poseidon’s kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And we'll have caused it.”

Grover shook his head, mystified. “But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?”

I stopped in my tracks, looking down the beach. “Gee, let me think.”

There he was, waiting for us, in his black leather duster and hisbsunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red. “Hey, kid,” Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy. “You were supposed to die.”

“You tricked me,” Percy said. “You stole the helm and the master bolt.”

Ares grinned. “Well, now, I didn’t steal them personally. Gods takingneach other’s symbols of power—that’s a big no-no. But you’re not the onlybhero in the world who can run errands.”

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

The idea seemed to amuse him. “Doesn’t matter. 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…”

From his pocket he took out a ski cap—the kind bank robbers wear—and
placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.
“The helm of darkness,” Grover gasped.

“Exactly,” Ares said. “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.”

“But they’re your family!” Annabeth protested.

Ares shrugged. “Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say.”