‘WE’LL NEED SOME OF YOUR FOOD.’ Percy shouldered his way
around the old man and snatched stuff off the picnic table
– a covered bowl of Thai noodles in mac-and-cheese
sauce, and a tubular pastry that looked like a combination
burrito and cinnamon roll.
Before he could lose control and smash the burrito in
Phineas’s face, Percy said, ‘Come on, guys.’ He led his
friends out of the parking lot.
They stopped across the street. Percy took a deep
breath, trying to calm down. The rain had slowed to a halfhearted
drizzle. The cold mist felt good on his face.
‘That man …’ Hazel smacked the side of a bus-stop
bench. ‘He needs to die. Again.’
It was hard to tell in the rain, but she seemed to be
blinking back tears. Her long curly hair was plastered
down the sides of her face. In the grey light, her gold eyes
looked more like tin.
Percy remembered how confident she’d acted when
they first met – taking control of the situation with the
gorgons and ushering him to safety. She’d comforted him
at the shrine of Neptune and made him feel welcome at
camp.
Now he wanted to return the favour, but he wasn’t sure
how. She looked lost, bedraggled and thoroughly
depressed.
Percy wasn’t surprised that she had come back from the
Underworld. He’d suspected that for a while – the way she
avoided talking about her past, the way Nico di Angelo
had been so secretive and cautious.
But that didn’t change how Percy saw her. She
seemed … well, alive, like a regular kid with a good heart,
who deserved to grow up and have a future. She wasn’t a
ghoul like Phineas.
‘We’ll get him,’ Percy promised. ‘He’s nothing like you,
Hazel. I don’t care what he says.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t know the whole story. I
should have been sent to Punishment. I – I’m just as bad
–’
‘No, you’re not!’ Frank balled his fists. He looked around
like he was searching for anybody who might disagree
with him – enemies he could hit for Hazel’s sake. ‘She’s a
good person!’ he yelled across the street. A few harpies
squawked in the trees, but no one else paid them any
attention.
Hazel stared at Frank. She reached out tentatively, as if
she wanted to take his hand but was afraid he might
evaporate.
‘Frank …’ she stammered. ‘I – I don’t …’
Unfortunately, Frank seemed wrapped up in his own
thoughts.
He slung his spear off his back and gripped it uneasily.
‘I could intimidate that old man,’ he offered, ‘maybe scare
him –’
‘Frank, it’s okay,’ Percy said. ‘Let’s keep that as a backup
plan, but I don’t think Phineas can be scared into
cooperating. Besides, you’ve only got two more uses out
of the spear, right?’
Frank scowled at the dragon’s-tooth point, which had
grown back completely overnight. ‘Yeah. I guess …’
Percy wasn’t sure what the old seer had meant about
Frank’s family history – his great-grandfather destroying
camp, his Argonaut ancestor and the bit about a burnt
stick controlling Frank’s life. But it had clearly shaken
Frank up. Percy decided not to ask for explanations. He
didn’t want the big guy reduced to tears, especially in front
of Hazel.
‘I’ve got an idea.’ Percy pointed up the street. ‘The redfeathered
harpy went that way. Let’s see if we can get her
to talk to us.’
Hazel looked at the food in his hands. ‘You’re going to
use that as bait?’
‘More like a peace offering,’ Percy said. ‘Come on. Just
try to keep the other harpies from stealing this stuff, okay?’
Percy uncovered the Thai noodles and unwrapped the
cinnamon burrito. Fragrant steam wafted into the air. They
walked down the street, Hazel and Frank with their
weapons out. The harpies fluttered after them, perching
on trees, mailboxes and flagpoles, following the smell of
food.
Percy wondered what the mortals saw through the Mist.
Maybe they thought the harpies were pigeons and the
weapons were lacrosse sticks or something. Maybe they
just thought the Thai mac and cheese was so good it
needed an armed escort.
Percy kept a tight grip on the food. He’d seen how
quickly the harpies could snatch things. He didn’t want to
lose his peace offering before he found the red-feathered
harpy.
Finally he spotted her, circling above a stretch of
parkland that ran for several blocks between rows of old
stone buildings. Paths stretched through the park under
huge maple and elm trees, past sculptures and
playgrounds and shady benches. The place reminded
Percy of … some other park. Maybe in his hometown? He
couldn’t remember, but it made him feel homesick.
They crossed the street and found a bench to sit on,
next to a big bronze sculpture of an elephant.
‘Looks like Hannibal,’ Hazel said.
‘Except it’s Chinese,’ Frank said. ‘My grandmother has
one of those.’ He flinched. ‘I mean, hers isn’t twelve feet
tall. But she imports stuff … from China. We’re Chinese.’
He looked at Hazel and Percy, who were trying hard not to
laugh. ‘Could I just die from embarrassment now?’ he
asked.
‘Don’t worry about it, man,’ Percy said. ‘Let’s see if we
can make friends with the harpy.’
He raised the Thai noodles and fanned the smell
upward – spicy peppers and cheesy goodness. The red
harpy circled lower.
‘We won’t hurt you,’ Percy called up in a normal voice.
‘We just want to talk. Thai noodles for a chance to talk,
okay?’
The harpy streaked down in a flash of red and landed
on the elephant statue.
She was painfully thin. Her feathery legs were like
sticks. Her face would have been pretty except for her
sunken cheeks. She moved in jerky birdlike twitches, her
coffee-brown eyes darting restlessly, her fingers clawing at
her plumage, her earlobes, her shaggy red hair.
‘Cheese,’ she muttered, looking sideways. ‘Ella doesn’t
like cheese.’
Percy hesitated. ‘Your name is Ella?’
‘Ella. Aella. “Harpy”. In English. In Latin. Ella doesn’t
like cheese.’ She said all that without taking a breath or
making eye contact. Her hands snatched at her hair, her
burlap dress, the raindrops, whatever moved.
Quicker than Percy could blink, she lunged, snatched
the cinnamon burrito, and appeared atop the elephant
again.
‘Gods, she’s fast!’ Hazel said.
‘And heavily caffeinated,’ Frank guessed.
Ella sniffed the burrito. She nibbled at the edge and
shuddered from head to foot, cawing like she was dying.
‘Cinnamon is good,’ she pronounced. ‘Good for harpies.
Yum.’
She started to eat, but the bigger harpies swooped
down. Before Percy could react, they began pummelling
Ella with their wings, snatching at the burrito.
‘Nnnnnnooo.’ Ella tried to hide under her wings as her
sisters ganged up on her, scratching with their claws. ‘Nno,’
she stuttered. ‘N-n-no!’
‘Stop it!’ Percy yelled. He and his friends ran to help, but
it was too late. A big yellow harpy grabbed the burrito and
the whole flock scattered, leaving Ella cowering and
shivering on top of the elephant.
Hazel touched the harpy’s foot. ‘I’m so sorry. Are you
okay?’
Ella poked her head out of her wings. She was still
trembling. With her shoulders hunched, Percy could see
the bleeding gash on her back where Phineas had hit her
with the weed whacker. She picked at her feathers, pulling
out tufts of plumage. ‘S-small Ella,’ she stuttered angrily.
‘W-weak Ella. No cinnamon for Ella. Only cheese.’
Frank glared across the street, where the other harpies
were sitting in a maple tree, tearing the burrito to shreds.
‘We’ll get you something else,’ he promised.
Percy set down the Thai noodles. He realized that Ella
was different, even for a harpy. But after watching her get
picked on, he was sure of one thing: whatever else
happened, he was going to help her.
‘Ella,’ he said, ‘we want to be your friends. We can get
you more food, but –’
‘Friends,’ Ella said. ‘“Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.”’ She
glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and
started reciting to the clouds. ‘“A half-blood of the eldest
gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds.” Sixteen.
You’re sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French
Cooking. “Ingredients: Bacon, Butter.”’
Percy’s ears were ringing. He felt dizzy, like he’d just
plunged a hundred feet underwater and back up again.
‘Ella … what was that you said?’
‘“Bacon.”’ She caught a raindrop out of the air. ‘“Butter.”’
‘No, before that. Those lines … I know those lines.’
Next to him, Hazel shivered. ‘It does sound familiar,
like … I don’t know, like a prophecy. Maybe it’s something
she heard Phineas say?’
At the name Phineas, Ella squawked in terror and flew
away.
‘Wait!’ Hazel called. ‘I didn’t mean – Oh, gods, I’m
stupid.’
‘It’s all right.’ Frank pointed. ‘Look.’
Ella wasn’t moving as quickly now. She flapped her way
to the top of a three-storey redbrick building and scuttled
out of sight over the roof. A single red feather fluttered
down to the street.
‘You think that’s her nest?’ Frank squinted at the sign on
the building. ‘Multnomah County Library?’
Percy nodded. ‘Let’s see if it’s open.’
They ran across the street and into the lobby.
A library wouldn’t have been Percy’s first choice for
someplace to visit. With his dyslexia, he had enough
trouble reading signs. A whole building full of books? That
sounded about as much fun as Chinese water torture or
getting his teeth extracted.
As they jogged through the lobby, Percy figured
Annabeth would like this place. It was spacious and
brightly lit, with big vaulted windows. Books and
architecture, that was definitely her …
He froze in his tracks.
‘Percy?’ Frank asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
Percy tried desperately to concentrate. Where had
those thoughts come from? Architecture,
books … Annabeth had taken him to the library once,
back home in – in – The memory faded. Percy slammed
his fist into the side of a bookshelf.
‘Percy?’ Hazel asked gently.
He was so angry, so frustrated with his missing
memories, that he wanted to punch another bookshelf, but
his friends’ concerned faces brought him back to the
present.
‘I’m – I’m all right,’ he lied. ‘Just got dizzy for a sec. Let’s
find a way to the roof.’
It took them a while, but they finally found a stairwell with
roof access. At the top was a door with a handle alarm, but
someone had propped it open with a copy of War and
Peace.
Outside, Ella the harpy huddled in a nest of books
under a makeshift cardboard shelter.
Percy and his friends advanced slowly, trying not to
scare her. Ella didn’t pay them any attention. She picked
at her feathers and muttered under her breath, like she
was practising lines for a play.
Percy got within five feet and knelt down. ‘Hi. Sorry we
scared you. Look, I don’t have much food, but …’
He took some of the macrobiotic jerky out of his pocket.
Ella lunged and snatched it immediately. She huddled
back in her nest, sniffing the jerky, but sighed and tossed
it away. ‘N-not from his table. Ella cannot eat. Sad. Jerky
would be good for harpies.’
‘Not from … Oh, right,’ Percy said. ‘That’s part of the
curse. You can only eat his food.’
‘There has to be a way,’ Hazel said.
‘“Photosynthesis”,’ Ella muttered. ‘“Noun. Biology. The
synthesis of complex organic materials.” “It was the best of
times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it
was the age of foolishness … ”’
‘What is she saying?’ Frank whispered.
Percy stared at the mound of books around her. They
all looked old and mildewed. Some had prices written in
marker on the covers, like the library had got rid of them
in a clearance sale.
‘She’s quoting books,’ Percy guessed.
‘Farmer’s Almanac 1965,’ Ella said. ‘“Start breeding
animals, January twenty-sixth.”’
‘Ella,’ he said, ‘have you read all of these?’
She blinked. ‘More. More downstairs. Words. Words
calm Ella down. Words, words, words.’
Percy picked up a book at random – a tattered copy of
A History of Horseracing. ‘Ella, do you remember the, um,
third paragraph on page sixty-two –’
‘“Secretariat”,’ Ella said instantly, ‘“favoured three to twoin
the 1973 Kentucky Derby, finished at standing track
record of one fifty-nine and two fifths.”’
Percy closed the book. His hands were shaking. ‘Word
for word.’
‘That’s amazing,’ Hazel said.
‘She’s a genius chicken,’ Frank agreed.
Percy felt uneasy. He was starting to form a terrible idea
about why Phineas wanted to capture Ella, and it wasn’t
because she’d scratched him. Percy remembered that
line she’d recited, A half-blood of the eldest gods. He was
sure it was about him.
‘Ella,’ he said, ‘we’re going to find a way to break the
curse. Would you like that?’
‘“It’s Impossible”,’ she said. ‘“Recorded in English by
Perry Como, 1970.”’
‘Nothing’s impossible,’ Percy said. ‘Now, look, I’m going
to say his name. You don’t have to run away. We’re going
to save you from the curse. We just need to figure out a
way to beat … Phineas.’
He waited for her to bolt, but she just shook her head
vigorously. ‘N-n-no! No Phineas. Ella is quick. Too quick
for him. B-but he wants to ch-chain Ella. He hurts Ella.’
She tried to reach the gash on her back.
‘Frank,’ Percy said, ‘you have first-aid supplies?’
‘On it.’ Frank brought out a thermos full of nectar and
explained its healing properties to Ella. When he scooted
closer, she recoiled and started to shriek. Then Hazel
tried, and Ella let her pour some nectar on her back. The
wound began to close.
Hazel smiled. ‘See? That’s better.’
‘Phineas is bad,’ Ella insisted. ‘And weed whackers. And
cheese.’
‘Absolutely,’ Percy agreed. ‘We won’t let him hurt you
again. We need to figure out how to trick him, though. You
harpies must know him better than anybody. Is there any
way we can trick him?’
‘N-no,’ Ella said. ‘Tricks are for kids. 50 Tricks to Teach
Your Dog, by Sophie Collins, call number six-three-six –’
‘Okay, Ella.’ Hazel spoke in a soothing voice, like she
was trying to calm a horse. ‘But does Phineas have any
weaknesses?’
‘Blind. He’s blind.’
Frank rolled his eyes, but Hazel continued patiently,
‘Right. Besides that?’
‘Chance,’ she said. ‘Games of chance. Two to one. Bad
odds. Call or fold.’
Percy’s spirits rose. ‘You mean he’s a gambler?’
‘Phineas s-sees big things. Prophecies. Fates. God
stuff. Not small stuff. Random. Exciting. And he is blind.’
Frank rubbed his chin. ‘Any idea what she means?’
Percy watched the harpy pick at her burlap dress. He
felt incredibly sorry for her, but he was also starting to
realize just how smart she was.
‘I think I get it,’ he said. ‘Phineas sees the future. He
knows tons of important events. But he can’t see small
things – like random occurrences, spontaneous games of
chance. That makes gambling exciting for him. If we can
tempt him into making a bet …’
Hazel nodded slowly. ‘You mean if he loses, he has to
tell us where Thanatos is. But what do we have to wager?
What kind of game do we play?’
‘Something simple, with high stakes,’ Percy said. ‘Like
two choices. One you live, one you die. And the prize has
to be something Phineas wants … I mean, besides Ella.
That’s off the table.’
‘Sight,’ Ella muttered. ‘Sight is good for blind men.
Healing … nope, nope. Gaia won’t do that for Phineas.
Gaia keeps Phineas b-blind, dependent on Gaia. Yep.’
Frank and Percy exchanged a meaningful look.
‘Gorgon’s blood,’ they said simultaneously.
‘What?’ Hazel asked.
Frank brought out the two ceramic vials he’d retrieved
from the Little Tiber. ‘Ella’s a genius,’ he said. ‘Unless we
die.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Percy said. ‘I’ve got a plan.’
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