NOVEL NEXT Chapter 11: Ride to Las Vegas
Chapter 11: Ride to Las Vegas
The war god waited for them in the shadow of the diner parking lot, his broad figure illuminated by the glow of a nearby streetlamp. His leather jacket caught the light, giving him an almost regal appearance, though the smug grin on his face soured any majesty. Annabeth, Grover, and Percy stopped a few feet away, their expressions ranging from wary to outright hostile.
"Well, well," Ares drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "You didn't get yourselves killed. I'll admit, that's more than I expected."
Percy's hand twitched toward the sword at his side, though he stopped himself. Confronting a god outright wasn't part of the plan—at least not yet. "You knew it was a trap," he accused, his tone even, though his eyes gleamed with restrained fury.
Ares' grin widened, sharp as a blade. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV, by the way."
Percy shoved the shield he'd retrieved toward Ares, who caught it effortlessly. "You're a jerk," Percy said bluntly, ignoring Annabeth's sharp intake of breath beside him.
Ares spun the shield casually, watching as it morphed into a bulletproof vest that he slung across his back. "You'll thank me one day, punk. Here's your ride west." He nodded toward an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street. The truck bore a sign that read: Kindness International: Humane Zoo Transport. Warning: Live Wild Animals.
"You're kidding," Percy said, his voice laced with disbelief.
Ares shrugged, clearly unbothered. "Free ride west. Quit complaining. Oh, and here's something for doing the job." He tossed a blue nylon backpack at Percy, who caught it reluctantly.
Percy glanced inside to find fresh clothes, twenty bucks, a pouch of golden drachmas, and a bag of Oreos. He grimaced, tempted to toss the bag back at Ares. Accepting anything from him felt like making a deal with the devil.
"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover said quickly, stepping forward before Percy could say anything rash. His nervous tone earned him a derisive chuckle from the war god.
Percy barely resisted the urge to retort as Ares mounted his Harley. "We'll meet again, Percy Jackson," Ares promised, his tone a mixture of amusement and warning. "Next time you're in a fight, watch your back."
As the god roared off into the night, Percy stood rigid, his knuckles white against the strap of the backpack. Annabeth's voice broke through his thoughts. "You really shouldn't have provoked him," she said, her tone exasperated but tinged with concern.
"I don't care," Percy replied evenly, his mind already calculating their next steps. Ares was useful, but not trustworthy. If the god of war thought Percy was predictable, all the better.
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The truck—a rusted, groaning monstrosity—waited nearby. Inside, the stench of neglect was overpowering. Mistreated zoo animals huddled in filthy cages, their eyes dull with resignation. Grover's face twisted with fury, but Percy remained coldly analytical. He scanned the cages, calculating which creatures could serve as assets and which would be liabilities.
It smelled worse than Percy had anticipated, a combination of animal waste and rotting food that made his eyes water. In the dim light of Anaklusmos, they surveyed the trailer's sad occupants: a zebra with gum matted into its mane, an albino lion panting from the heat, and a gaunt antelope with a "Happy Birthday" balloon tied to its horn.
"This is kindness?" Grover muttered bitterly, his goat ears twitching in irritation.
"We'll let them go," Percy said, though his tone suggested it was more for appearances than genuine concern. "When the truck stops."
Annabeth raised a skeptical eyebrow but said nothing. She knelt by the antelope, using her knife to cut the balloon free while Percy found a water jug and refilled the animals' bowls. Even this small act of kindness felt strategic, a way to keep his companions focused and less likely to question his methods.
As the truck rumbled to life, they settled into a corner on some old feed sacks. Percy watched the lion warily, its pink eyes fixed on him with unsettling intensity. Annabeth nibbled an Oreo, though her usual confidence seemed dimmed by the oppressive atmosphere.
"I'm sorry for freaking out back at the water park," she said suddenly, her voice low.
Percy glanced at her, masking his surprise. "Don't be. Spiders are a reasonable thing to hate. Especially for you."
She gave him a wry smile, though her eyes betrayed a deeper unease. "Thanks."
Grover, oblivious to the tension, had already fallen asleep, snoring softly into a sack of turnips. Percy leaned back against the trailer wall, his thoughts turning to the road ahead. Los Angeles loomed like a shadow on the horizon, the next step in a journey he was beginning to see as a chessboard. Every move mattered, every piece had a purpose.
The truck rattled along the highway, the rhythmic clanging of metal grates filling the silence. Percy leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as the vibrations lulled him into a restless sleep.
The dream came swiftly.
He stood on the edge of a chasm, the air thick with the scent of sulfur and decay. A voice—ancient and deep as the earth itself—echoed around him .
"You are more than they realize. More than you realize."
Percy did not flinch. "Who are you?" he demanded, his tone steady.
"A friend. An ally, should you choose wisely. The gods are fragile, divided. Their time is ending. Yours can begin."
The shadows in the pit shifted, coalescing into the vague outline of a figure. Percy felt no fear, only curiosity. "What do you want?"
"To help you rise. To claim your destiny."
"And what's in it for you?"
The figure chuckled, a sound like grinding stones. "Clever. We will speak again, demigod."
The ground beneath Percy's feet crumbled, and he fell, the pit swallowing him whole. He woke with a start, his heart pounding but his mind racing with possibilities. The dream wasn't a warning; it was an opportunity. If the gods were truly as fractured as the voice claimed, then perhaps…
He glanced at Annabeth and Grover, both asleep, their faces etched with exhaustion. They were tools, pieces on the board. Useful, but expendable if necessary. Percy's path was becoming clearer by the moment.
He woke abruptly, his heart racing, to find Annabeth watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Bad dream?" she asked softly.
Percy nodded, unwilling to elaborate. Instead, he shifted the conversation. "What's the story with your necklace?" He gestured to the beads strung around her neck, each one painted with a different symbol.
Annabeth's fingers brushed the pine-tree bead absently. "Camp tradition," she said. "One for every summer. That one's from my first year."
Percy sensed there was more to the story, but he didn't press. Annabeth would open up when she was ready—or when it suited him. "What about the ring?" he asked, nodding toward the college ring she wore on a chain.
Her expression hardened. "It's my dad's. He sent it to me with a letter, saying he wanted me to come home. That he missed me." She let out a bitter laugh. "I tried. It didn't work."
Percy didn't reply immediately. He understood strained family ties all too well, though his own situation was far more complicated. Instead, he said simply, "Maybe it's worth another try."
Annabeth gave him a skeptical look but didn't argue. "You're full of advice tonight, Seaweed Brain."
"I have my moments," he said, smirking slightly.
As the night stretched on, the trailer's oppressive heat seemed to magnify the unspoken tensions between them. Grover stirred occasionally, mumbling in his sleep, while Annabeth kept her thoughts guarded, her gaze flicking between Percy and the animals.
"You're hard to figure out," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Percy raised an eyebrow. "That's the idea."
Annabeth frowned but didn't press further. She studied him as if trying to solve a particularly challenging puzzle. Percy let her, knowing that whatever conclusions she drew would be incomplete.
"Whatever happens in Los Angeles," Annabeth said quietly, "we stick together."
"Of course," Percy replied, his voice smooth. The words were easy, automatic, though his mind was already calculating the possibilities. Trust was a tool, and Annabeth's was proving valuable.
Dawn broke slowly, the dim light seeping through the cracks in the trailer. Grover was the first to stir, his bleary-eyed expression quickly giving way to concern as he checked on the animals. Percy joined him, more for appearances than anything else, while Annabeth plotted their route using a map she'd pulled from Ares' pack.
"We're close to Vegas," she said. "Should reach it by mid-morning."
Percy nodded, though his thoughts were elsewhere. The solstice loomed closer with each passing day, and with it, the risk of failure. Yet, the challenges ahead only sharpened his resolve. The gods thought him a pawn in their game, a mere half-blood playing at heroism. They would learn the truth soon enough.
For now, Percy played his role, careful to keep his ambitions veiled. The road to power was long, but he had already begun walking it. And when the time came, he would be ready.
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End of Chapter 11
Author's Note: Next chapter we will be seeing Percy's time powers again.