8. We Visit the Demon Dude Ranch

Chapter eight, we visit the demon dude ranch. We finally stopped in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit, ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around us on all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilled down into the pit, and even when I shined a light, I couldn't see the bottom. Briarie slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. This pit goes straight to Tartarus, he murmured. I should jump in and save you trouble. Don't talk that way, Anabeth told him. You can come back to camp with us, you can help us prepare.

You know more about fighting Titans than anybody. I have nothing to offer, Briarie said. I have lost everything. What about your brothers? Tyson asked. The other two must stand tall as mountains. We can take you to them. Briarie's expressions morphed into something even sadder, his grieving face. They are no more, they faded. The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eye. What exactly do you mean they faded? I asked. I thought monsters were immortal, like the gods. Percy, Grover said weekly. Even immortality has limits.

Sometimes monsters get forgotten and they lose their will to stay immortal. Looking at Grover's face, I wondered if he was thinking of Pan. I remembered something Medusa had told us once. Our sisters, the other two gorgons had passed on and left her alone. Then last year Apollo said something about the old god Helios disappearing and leaving him with the duties of the sun god. I never thought about it too much, but now, looking at Briarie's, I realized how terrible it would be to be so old. Thousands and thousands of years old and totally alone.

I must go, Briarie said. Chronos army will invade camp. Tyson said. We need help. Briarie's hung his head. I cannot cyclops. You are strong. Not anymore. Briarie's rose. Hey, I grabbed one of his arms and pulled him aside, where the roar of the water would hide our words. Briarie's, we need you. In case you haven't noticed, Tyson believes in you. He risks his life for you. I told him about everything. Luke's invasion plan, the labyrinth entrance of camp, Digilis's workshop, Chronos' golden coffin. Briarie's just shook his head. I cannot demigod.

I do not have a finger gun to win this game. To prove his point, he made 100 finger guns. Maybe that's why monsters fade, I said. Maybe it's not about what the mortals believe. Maybe it's because you give up on yourself. His pure brown eyes regarded me. His face morphed into an expression I recognized. Shame. Then he turned and trudged off down the corridor until he was lost in the shadows. Tyson sobbed. It's okay. Grover hesitantly padded his shoulder, which must have taken all his courage. Tyson sneezed. It is not okay, goat boy. He was my hero.

I wanted to make him feel better, but I wasn't sure what to say. Finally, Anabeth stood and shouldered her at backpack. Come on guys, the pit is making me nervous. Let's find a better place to camp for the night. We settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could have been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fast into the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Anabeth decided this was a good sign. We must be close to Daedalus' workshop, she said. Get some rest everybody. We'll keep going in the morning.

How do we know when it's morning? Grover asked. Just rest, she insisted. Grover didn't need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest and was snoring in no time. Tyson took longer to get to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps from his building kit for a while, but whatever he was making, he wasn't happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces. I'm sorry I lost the shield, I told him. You were so hard to repair it. Tyson looked up. His eye was bloodshot from crying. Do not worry brother.

You saved me. You wouldn't have had to if Briari's had helped. He was just scared, I said. I'm sure he'll get over it. He is not strong, Tyson said. He is not important anymore. He heaved a big sad sigh then closed his eye. The metal pieces fell out of his hand still unassembled and Tyson began to snore. I tried to fall asleep myself, but I couldn't. Something about getting chased by a large dragon lady with poison swords made it real hard to relax. I picked up my bedroll and dragged it over to where Anabeth was sitting, keeping watch. I sat down next to her.

You should sleep, she said. Can't. You doing all right? Sure, first day leading the quest. Just great. We'll get there, I said. We'll find the workshop before Luke does. She brushed her hair out of her face. She had a smudge of dirt on her chin and I imagined what she must have looked like when she was little, wandering around the country with Talion Luke. Once she'd saved them from the mansion of the evil cyclops when she was only seven. Even when she looked scared like now, I knew she had a lot of guts. I just wish the quest was logical, she complained.

I mean, we're traveling but we have no idea where we'll end up. How can you walk from New York to California in a day? Space isn't the same in the maze. I know, I know, it's just, she looked at me hesitantly. Percy, I was kidding myself. All that planning and reading. I don't know the clue where we're going. You're doing great. Besides, we never know what we're doing. It always works out. Remember Cersei's island? She snorted. You made a cute guinea pig. And waterland, how you gotta throw off that ride. I gotta throw it off, it was totally your fault.

See, it'll be fine. She smiled, which I was glad to see, but the smile faded quickly. Percy, what did Hera mean when she said you knew the way to get through the maze? I don't know, I admit it. Honestly, you tell me if you did. Sure. Maybe, maybe what? Maybe if you told me the last line of the prophecy it would help. Anabeth shivered. Not here, not in the dark. What about the choice Janus mentioned? Hera said stop, Anabeth snapped. Then she took a shaky breath. I'm sorry, Percy, I'm just stressed. But I don't, I've got a lot to think about. We sat in silence, listening to strange creeks and groans in the maze.

The echo of stones grinding together as tunnels changed, grew and expanded. The dark made me think about the visions I'd seen of Nico DiAngelo, and suddenly I realized something. Nico's down here somewhere, I said. That's how he disappeared from camp. He found the labyrinth. Then he found a path that led down even further to the underworld. But now he's back in the maze. He's coming after me. Anabeth was quiet for a long time. Percy, I hope you're wrong. But if you're right, she stared at the flashlight beam, casting a dim circle on the stone wall.

I had a feeling she was thinking about her prophecy. I never seen her look more tired. How about I take the first watch? I said, I'll wake you if anything happens. Anabeth looked like she wanted a protest, but she just nodded, slumped onto her bedroll and closed her eyes. When it was my turn to sleep, I dreamed I was back in the old man's labyrinth prism. It looked more like a workshop now. Tables were littered with measuring instruments. A forge burned red hot in the corner. The boy I'd seen in the last dream was stoking the bellows, except he was taller now, almost my age.

A weird funnel device was attached to the forge's chimney, trapping the smoke and heat and channeling it through a pipe into the floor, next to a big bronze manhole cover. It was daytime. The sky above was blue, but the walls of the maze cast deep shadows across the workshop. After being in tunnels so long, I found it weird that part of the labyrinth could be open to the sky. Somehow that made the maze seem like an even cooler place. The old man looked sickly. He was terribly thin, his hands raw and red from working. White hair covered his eyes and his tunic was smudged with grease.

He was bent over a table working on some kind of long metal patchwork, like a swath of chain mail. He picked up a delicate curl of bronze and fitted it into place. Done, he announced. It's done. He picked up his project. It was so beautiful, my heart leaped. Metal wings constructed from thousands of interlocking bronze feathers. There were two sets. One still lay on the table. Datalists stretched the frame and the wings expanded to twenty feet. Part of me knew it could never fly. It was too heavy and there'd be no way to get off the ground. But the craftsmanship was amazing.

Metal feathers caught the light and flashed thirty different chains of gold. The boy left the billows and ran over to sea. He grinned despite the fact that he was grimy and sweaty. Father, you're a genius. The old man smiled. Tell me something I don't know, Icarus. Now hurry. It will take at least an hour to attach them. Come. You first, Icarus said. The old man protested, but Icarus insisted. You made them, Father. You should get the honor of wearing them first. The boy attached a leather harness to his father's chest, like climbing gear with straps that ran from his shoulders to his wrists.

Then he began fastening on the wings, using a metal canister that looked like an enormous hot glue gun. The wax compound should hold for several hours. Datalists said nervously as his son worked. But we must let it set first. And we would do well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals. And the sun's heat would loosen them. The boy finished. Yes, Father. We've been through this a million times. One cannot be too careful. I have complete faith in your inventions, Father. No one has ever been as smart as you. The old man's eyes shone.

It was obvious he loved his son more than anything in the world. Now I will do your wings and give mine a chance to set properly. Come. It was slow going. The old man's hands fumbled with the straps. Yet a hard time keeping the wings in position while he sealed them. His own metal wings seemed to weigh him down, getting in his way while he tried to work. Too slow. The old man muttered. I am too slow. Take your time, Father. The boy said. The guards aren't due until boom. The workshop doors shuttered. Datalists had barred them from the inside with a wooden brace, but they still shook on their hinges.

Hurry! Icarus said boom. Something heavy was slamming into the doors. The brace held but a crack appeared in the left door. Datalists worked furiously. A drop of hot wax spilled onto Icarus's shoulder. The boy wins but did not cry out. When his left wing was sealed through the straps, Datalists began working on the right. We must have more time. Datalists murmured. They are too early. We need more time for the seal to hold. You know, we find, Icarus said, as his father finished the right wing. Help me with the manhole. Crash. The door splintered.

In the head of a bronze battering around a merge through the breach. Axe has cleared the debris and two armed guards entered the room, followed by the king with a golden crown and a spear-shaped beard. Well, well. The king said with a cruel smile. King somewhere? Datalists and his son froze. Their metal wings glimmering on their backs. We're leaving, Minus. The old man said. King Minus chuckled. I was curious to see how far you'd get on this little project before I dashed your hopes. I must say, I'm impressed. The king admired their wings. You look like metal chickens, you decided.

Perhaps we should pluck you and make a soup. The guards laughed stupidly. Fettled chickens. One repeated. Soup. Shut up. The guard said. Then he turned again to Datalists. You let my daughter escape, old man. You drove my wife to madness. You killed my monster and made me the laughingstock of the Mediterranean. You will never escape me. Icarus grabbed the wax gun and sprayed it at the king, who stepped back in surprise. The guards rushed forward, but each got a steam of hot wax in his face. The vent! Icarus yelled to his father. Get them! King Minus raged.

Together the old man and his son pride opened the manhole cover, and a column of hot air blasted out of the ground. The king watched incredulous as the inventor and son shot into the sky on their bronze wings carried by the updraft. Shoot them! The king yelled, but his guards had brought no bows. One threw his sword in desperation, but Datalists and Icarus were already out of wheat. They wheeled above the maze in the king's palace, then zoomed across the city of Nausus and put out the rocky shores of Crete. Icarus laughed. Free father, you did it!

The boy spread his wings to their full limit and sword away on the wind. Wait! Datalists called. Be careful! And Icarus was already out over the open sea, heading north into lighting in their good luck. He soared up and scared an eagle out of its flight path, then plummeted toward the sea like he was born to fly, pulling out of a nosedive at the last second. His sandals skim the waves. Stop that! Datalists called, but the wind carried his voice away. His son was drunk on his own freedom. The old man struggled to catch up, gliding clumsily after his son.

They were miles from Crete over deep sea, when Icarus looked back and saw his father's worried expression. Icarus smiled. Don't worry, father, you're a genius! I trust your handiwork! The first metal feather shook loose from his wings and fluttered away. Then another. Icarus wobbled in midair. Suddenly he was shedding bronze feathers, which tore away from him like a flock of frightened birds. Icarus! The father cried. Glide! Extend the wings! Stay as still as possible! But Icarus flapped his arms, desperately trying to reassert control. The left wing went first, ripping away from the straps.

Another! Icarus cried, and then he fell. The wings stripped away until he was just a boy in climbing harness and a white tunic. His arms extended in a useless attempt to glide. I woke with a start. Feeling like I was falling, the corridor was dark. In the constant moaning of the labyrinth, I thought I could hear the anguished cry of Datalist calling his son's name as Icarus. His only joy plummeted toward the sea three hundred feet below. There was no mourning in the maze, but once everyone woke up and had a fabulous breakfast of granola bars and juice boxes, we kept traveling.

I didn't mention my dream. Something about it had really freaked me out and I didn't think the others needed to know that. The old stone tunnels chained to dirt with cedar beams, like a gold mine or something. Anabeth started getting agitated. This isn't right, she said. It should still be stone. We came to a cave where stalactites hung low from the ceiling. In the center of the dirt floor was a rectangular pant like a grave. Grover shivered. It smells like the underworld in here. Then I saw something glinting at the edge of the pit, a foil wrapper.

I shined my flashlight into the hole and saw a half-tute cheeseburger floating in brown carbonated muck. Nico, I said. He was summoning the dead again. Tyson whimpered. Ghost were here. I don't like ghosts. We've got to find him. I don't know why, but standing at the edge of that pit gave me a sense of urgency. Nico was close. I could feel it. I couldn't let him wander around down here. Alone, except for the dead. I started to run. Percy! Anabeth called. I docked into a tunnel and saw light up ahead. By the time Anabeth Tyson and Grover caught up with me, I was staring at daylight streaming through a set of bars above my head.

We were under a steel grate made out of metal pipes. I could see trees and blue sky. Where are we? I wondered. Then a shadow fell across the gate and a cow stared down at me. It looked like a normal cow except it was a weird color. Bright red like a cherry. I didn't know cows came in that color. The cow mood put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away. It's a cattle guard, Grover said. A what? I asked. They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can't get out. They can't walk on them. How do you know that? Grover huffed indignantly.

Believe me, if you had hooves, you'd know about cattle guards. They're gnawing. I turned to Anabeth. Didn't Harris say something about a ranch? We need to check it out. Nico might be up there. She hesitated. All right. But how do we get out? Tyson solved that problem by hitting the cattle guard with both hands. It popped off and went flying out of sight. We heard a clang and a startled moong. Tyson blushed. Sorry cow. He called. Then he gave us a boost out of the tunnel. We run a ranch all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon dotted with oak trees and cactuses and boulders.

A barbed wire fence ran from the gate in either direction. Cherry colored cows roamed around grazing on clumps of grass. Red cattle, Anabeth said. The cattle of the sun. What? I asked. They're sacred to Apollo. Holy cows? Exactly. But what are they doing? Wait, Grover said. Listen. At first everything seemed quiet. But then I heard it. The distant bang of dogs. The sound got louder. Then the underbrush rustled and two dogs broke through. Except it wasn't two dogs. It was one dog with two heads. He looked like a greyhound long and snaky and sleek brown.

But its neck veed into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling. And generally not very glad to see us. Bad, Janus dog. Tyson cried. Arf! Grover told it and raised a hand in greeting. The two headed dog bared its teeth. I guess it wasn't impressed that Grover could speak animal. Then its master lumbered out of the woods. And I realized the dog was the least of our problems. He was a huge guy with stark white hair. A straw cowboy hat. And a braided white beard. Kind of like Father Time. If Father Time went redneck and got totally jacked. He was wearing jeans.

I don't mess with Texas t-shirt. And a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so you could see his muscles. On his right bicep was a cross-swords tattoo. He held a wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead with six inch spikes bristling at the business end. Hey you artist! He told the dog. The dog growled at us once more just to make his feelings clear. Then circled back to his master's feet. The man looked us up and down, keeping his club ready. What have we got here? He asked. Candle rustlers? Just travelers. Anabeth said. We're on a quest.

The man's eye twitched. Hey I've blooded, eh? I started to say, how did you know Anabeth put her hand on my arm? I'm Anabeth, daughter of Athena. This is Percy, sent up his sight and Grover the Seder, Tyson the... Sideclaps. The man finished. Yes I can see that. He clouded at me. And I know half-bloods because I am one, Sonny. I'm Euretian. The cow heard for this here ranch. Son of Aries, you came through the labyrinth like the other one, I reckon? The other one, I asked. You mean Nico DiAngelo? We get a load of visitors from the labyrinth. Euretian said darkly.

Not many ever leave. Wow, I said it. I feel welcome. The cow heard glance behind him like someone was watching. Then he lured his voice. I'm only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now before it's too late. We're not leaving, Anabeth insisted. Not until we see this of your demigod, please. Euretian grunted. Then you're leaving no choice, Missy. I've got to take you to see the balls. I didn't feel like we were hostages or anything. Euretian walked alongside us with his club across his shoulder. Orthos the two-headed dog growled a lot and sniffed at Grover's leg and shot into the bushes once in a while to chase animals.

But Euretian kept him more or less under control. We walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. It must have been close to 100 degrees, which was a shock after San Francisco. Heat shimmered off the ground. Insects buzzed in the trees. Before we'd gone very far, our sweating like crazy. Fly swarmed us. Every so often we'd see a pen of full of red cows or even stranger animals. Once we passed a corral where the fence was coated in asbestos, inside a herd of fire breathing horses milled around. The hay in their feeding trough was on fire.

The ground smoked around their feet. But the horses seemed tame enough. One big stallion looked at me and windy, columns of red flame billowing out of his nostrils. I wondered if it heard his sinuses. What are they for? I asked. Euretian scowled. We raised animals for lots of clients. Apollo, Diomedes and others. Like who? No more questions. Finally, we came out of the woods. Purch down a hill above us was a big ranch house. All white stone and wood and big windows. Looks like a Frank Lloyd Wright, Antibus said. I guess she was talking about some architectural thing.

To me it just looked like the kind of place where a few demigods could get into serious trouble. We hiked up the hill. Don't break the rules, Euretian warned, as we walked up the steps to the front porch. No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't make any comments about the boss's appearance. Why? I asked. What does he look like? Before Euretian could reply, a new voice said, Welcome to the Triple G Ranch. The man on the porch had a normal head, which was a relief. His face was weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had slick black hair and a black pencil mustache like a villain's.

Like villains have in old movies. He smiled at us but the smile wasn't friendly. More amused. Like, oh boy, more people to torture. I didn't ponder that very long though, because then I noticed his body. Or bodies. He had three of them. Now you'd think I would have gotten used to weird anatomy after Janus and Briaris, but this guy was three complete people. His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests. One to either side connected at the shoulders with a few inches in between. His left arm grew out of his left chest and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits, if that makes any sense.

The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very beefy legs. And he wore the most oversized pair of levi as I'd ever seen. His chests each wore a different color western shirt, green, yellow, red like a stoplight. I wondered how he dressed the middle chest since it had no arms. The coward, Euryshan, nudged me. Say hello to Mr. Garion. Hi, I said. Nice chest, ranch. Nice ranch you have. Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico DiAngelo came out of the glass doors on the porch. Garion, I won't wait for it. He froze when he saw us.

Then he drew his sword. The blade was just like I'd seen in my dream. Short, sharp and dark as midnight. Garion snarled when he saw it. Put that away, Mr. DiAngelo. I ain't gonna have my guests killin' each other. But that's... Percy Jackson, Garion supplied. Anabeth Chase, and a couple of their monster friends, yes I know. Monster friends? Grover said indignantly. That man is wearing three shirts. Tyson said like he was just realizing this. They let my sister die. Nico's voice trembled with rage. They're here to kill me. Nico, we're not here to kill you.

I raise my hands. What happened to Bianca was, don't speak your name. You're not worried to even talk about her. Wait a minute. Anabeth pointed to Garion. How do you know our names? The three-bodied man winked. I'm making my business to keepin' foreign, Garion. Everybody pops into the ranch from time to time. Everybody needs somethin' from old Garion. Now, Mr. DiAngelo put that ugly sword away before I have your ring. Your Irish am tag it from you. Your Irish am side, but he hap'd it his spiked club. At his feet orth his ground. Nico hesitated.

He looked thinner and paler than he had in the iris messages. I wondered if he'd eaten in the last week. His black clothes were dusty from traveling in the labyrinth, and his dark eyes were full of hate. He was too young to look so angry. I still remembered him as the cheerful little kid who played with mytho magic cards. Reluctantly he sheathed his sword. If you come near me Percy, I'll summon help. You don't want to meet my helpers, I promise. I believe you, I said. Garion patted Nico's shoulder. There. We've all made knives now. Come along folks.

I want to give you a tour of the ranch. Garion had a trolley thing, like one of those kitty trains that take you around zoos. It was painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The driver's car had a set of long horns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell. I figured maybe this was how he tortured people. He embarrassed them to death riding around in the moo-moo-bial. Nico sat in the very back, probably so he could keep an eye on us. Euryshan crawled in next to him with his spiked club and pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap.

Orthis jumped in the front seat next to Garion and began barking happily in two-part harmony. Annabeth Tyson Grover and I took the middle two cars. We have a huge operation. Garion boasted as the moo-moo-bial lurched forward. Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties too. We came over a hill in Annabeth Gasp. Hip electrons? I thought they were extinct. At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of the weirdest animals I'd ever seen. Each had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster. The rear feet were huge yellow claws.

They had feathery tails and red wings. As I watched two of them got in a fight over a pile of seed. They reared up on their back legs and whitted and flat their wings at each other until the smaller one galloped away, its rear bird legs putting a little hop in its step. Wooster ponies! Tyson said an amazement. Do they lay eggs? Once a year. Garion grinned in the rear view mirror. Very much in demand for omelets. That's horrible, Annabeth said. They must be an endangered species. Garion waved his hand. Gold is gold, darling, and you haven't tasted the omelets.

That's not right, grover murmured, but Garion just kept narrating the tour. Now, over here he said, we have our fire-breathed on horses which you may have seen on your way in. They're bred for war, naturally. What war? I asked. Garion gringed slightly. Oh, would you ever come along? And over yonder, of course, are our prized red cows. Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-colored cows were grazing on the side of the hill. So many, Grover said. Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see them. Garion explained. So sub-contract to us, we breed them vigorously because they're such a demand.

For what? I asked. Garion raised an eyebrow. Meat, of course. Armies have to eat. You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat? Grover said. That's against the ancient laws. Ha, don't get so worked up, Sator. They're just animals. Just animals? Yes, and if Apollo cared, I'm sure he would tell us. If he knew, I muttered, Nico sat forward. I don't care about any of this, Garion. We had business to discuss, and this wasn't it. All in good time, Mr. D'Angelo. Now look over here. Some of my exotic game. The next field was ringed in barbed wire.

The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions. Triple G, ranch. I said, suddenly, remembering. Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got a scorpions from you. Quintus, Garion used. Short gray hair, muscular swordsman? Yeah. Never heard of them. Garion said. Now, over here are my prize stables. You must see them. I didn't need to see them, because as soon as we got within 300 yards, I started to smell them. Near the banks of a green river was a horse corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About 100 horses were milling around the muck, and when I say muck, I mean horse poop.

It was the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen, like a poop blizzard had come through and dumped four feet of the stuff overnight. The horses were really gross from wading through it, and the stables were just as bad. It reached like you would not believe, worse than the garbage boats on the East River. Even Nico gagged. What is that? Stables, Garion said. Well, actually they belonged to Agus, but we watch over them for a small amount of their fee, aren't they lovely? They're disgusting, and of a said. Lots of poop, Tyson observed. How can you keep animals like that?

Grover cried. You're getting on my nerves, Garion said. These are flesh-eaten horses, see? They lock these conditions. Plus you're too cheap to have them clean. Your rich and mumbled from under his hat. Quiet, Garion snapped. Alright, perhaps the stables are a big challenge in the clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients do pay me well. What clients? I demanded. Oh, you'd be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eaten horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies.

Great at birthday, Puddies. We rent them out all the time. Your monster, Antibut decided. Garion stopped the moon when we turned to look at her. What gave it away? There's it to three bodies. You have to let these animals go, Grover said. It's not right. And the clients you keep talking about, Antibut said. You work for Cronos, don't you? You're supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need. Garion shrugged, which was very weird since he had three sets of shoulders. It looked like he was doing the wave all by himself. I work for anyone would go, young lady.

I'm a businessman, and I sell them anything I have to offer. He climbed out of the moonmobile and strolled toward the stables as if enjoying the fresh air. It would have been a nice view with the river and the trees and the hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck. Nico got out of the back car and stoned over to Garion. The cow-heard urishian wasn't as sleepy as he looked. He had to disclub and walked after Nico. I came here for business, Garion. Nico said. And you haven't answered me. Hmm. Garion examined a cactus. His left arm reached over and scratched his middle chest.

Yes, you'll get a deal, all right. My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need. Wait a second. I said. I thought I was the soul you wanted. Nico looked at me like I was crazy. You? Why would I want you? The young castle is worth a thousand of yours. Now, can you help me, Garion, or not? I imagine I could. The rancher said. Your ghost friend, by the way, where is he? Nico looked uneasy. He can't form in broad daylight. It's hard for him, but he's around here somewhere. Garion smiled. I'm sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get difficult.

Minos. I remember the man I'd seen in my dreams with the golden crown, the pointed beard, and the cruel eyes. You mean that Evil King? That's the ghost who's been giving you advice? It's not your business, Percy. Nico turned back to Garion. And what do you mean about things getting difficult? The three-bodied man's side. Well, you see Nico. Cannot call you Nico. No? You see, Nico. Luke Castling is offering a very good money for half-bloods, especially powerful half-bloods. And I'm sure when he learns your little secret, whoever you really are, you'll pay very, very well indeed.

Nico drew his sword, but Eorisha knocked it out of his hand. Before I could get up, Eorthas pounced on my chest and growled. His face is an inch away from mine. I would stay in the car, all of you, Garion warned. Or Eorthas will tear Mr. Jackson's throat out. Now, Eorisha, if you will be so kind, secure Nico, the coward spit into the grass. Do I have to? Yes, you fool. Eorisha looked bored, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler. Pick up the sword, too, Garion said with this taste. But nothing I hate worse than Stidion Iron.

Eorisha picked up the sword, careful not to touch the blade. Now, Garion said cheerfully, we've had the tour. Let's go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an iris measure to our friends and titan army. You fiend, Eor Let's be off, shall we? Wait, I said, and Eorthas growled. I stayed perfectly still so he wouldn't tear my throat out. Garion, you said you're a businessman. Make me a deal, Garion narrowed his eyes. What so did deal? Do you have gold? I've got something better. Barter. But Mr. Jackson, you've got nothing. You could have him clean the stables, Eorisha suggested innocently.

I'll do it, I said. If I fail, you get all of us, trade us all to Luke for gold. Assuming the house is don't eat you, Garion observed. Either way, you get my friends, I said. But if I succeed, you've got to let all of us go, including Nico. No, Nico screamed. Don't do me any favors, Percy. I don't want your help. Garion chuckled. Pussy Jackson, those stables have been cleared in a thousand years. Though it's true I might be able to sell more stable space of all that poop was cleared away. So what have you got to lose? I'll get you to the ranch.

You're hesitated. All right. I'll accept your offer, but you have to get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich. Deal. He nodded. I'm going to take your friends with me back to the lodge. We'll wait for you there. Eorisha gave me a funny look. It might have been sympathy. He whistled, and the dog jumped off me and onto Annabeth's lamp. She yelped. I knew Tyson and Grover would never try anything as long as Annabeth was a hostage. I got out of the car and locked eyes with her. I hope you know what you're doing, she said quietly.

I hope so too. Gary and Gop behind the driver's wheel, Eorisha and Haldiniko into the back seat. Sunset. Gary reminded me. No NATO. He laughed at me once more, sounded his cowbell horn, and the mummobile rumbled off down the trail.