𝒊. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

𝒊𝒙.

They spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

They weren't attacked once, but Noelle didn't relax. She felt that they were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity.

They tried to keep a low profile because Percy's name and picture were splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a photo taken by a tourist as they got off the Greyhound bus. He had a wild look in his eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands. It might've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The picture's caption read:

Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with two teenage accomplices. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Noelle told him. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure. The rest of the day he spent alternately pacing the length of the train (because of his ADHD) or looking out the windows.

Their reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver. They couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so they dozed in their seats. Noelle's neck got stiff fairly quickly.

Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking us up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and Noelle had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed.

"So," Annabeth asked Percy, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

He was reluctant to say anything, but it seemed to bother him so much he finally told them.

Noelle was contemplating whether or not now would be a good time to mention she'd also had dreams of the voice from the pit, but Annabeth spoke before she could. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

"He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?"

"I guess... if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?" Noelle wondered aloud.

Noelle thought Grover sensed Percy's fear of the situation. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

Noelle readjusted his cap so it covered his horns. "Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy."

Annabeth nodded. "Yeah, we don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time-- "

"This time?" he asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"

Noelle took a glance at Annabeth. She noticed Annabeth's hand had traveled up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, her first clay end-of-summer token. "Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."

"What would you do if it was your dad?" Percy asked Noelle.

She looked at her hands. "I would do anything for my dad, Percy. But Annabeth's right, you can't barter with Hades."