The Battle of the Labyrinth pjato-4 Page 12

  Even Nico gagged. “What is that?”

  “My stables!” Geryon said. “Well, actually they belong to Aegas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren’t they lovely?”

  “They’re disgusting!” Annabeth said.

  “Lots of poop,” Tyson observed.

  “How can you keep animals like that?” Grover cried.

  “Y’all getting’ on my nerves,” Geryon said. “These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions.”

  “Plus, you’re too cheap to have them cleaned,” Eurytion mumbled from under his hat.

  “Quiet!” Geryon snapped. “All right, perhaps the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients still pay me well.”

  “What clients?” I demanded.

  “Oh, you’d be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eating horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time.”

  “You’re a monster,” Annabeth decided.

  Geryon stopped the moo-mobile and turned to look at her. “What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?”

  “You have to let these animals go,” Grover said. “It’s not right!”

  “And the clients you keep talking about,” Annabeth said. “You work for Kronos, don’t you? You’re supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need.”

  Geryon 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 with gold, young lady. I’m a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer.”

  He climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled toward the stables as if enjoying the fresh air. It would’ve been a nice view, with the river and the trees and hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck. Nico got out of the back car and stormed over to Geryon. The cowherd Eurytion wasn’t as sleepy as he looked. He hefted his club and walked after Nico.

  “I came here for business, Geryon,” Nico said. “And you haven’t answered me.”

  “Mmm.” Geryon 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?

  Bianca’s soul is worth a thousand of yours! Now, can you help me, Geryon, or not?”

  “Oh, 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 somewhere.”

  Geryon smiled. “I’m sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get…difficult.”

  “Minos?” I remembered 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 none of your business, Percy!” Nico turned back to Geryon. “And what do you mean about things getting difficult?”

  The three-bodied man sighed. “Well, you see, Nico—can I call you Nico?”

  “No.”

  “You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for halfbloods. Especially powerful half-bloods. And I’m sure when he learns your little secret, who you really are, he’ll pay very, very well indeed.”

  Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion knocked it out of his hand. Before I could get up, Orthus pounced on my chest and growled, his faces an inch away from mine.

  “I would stay in the car, all of you,” Geryon warned. “Or Orthus will tear Mr. Jackson’s throat out. Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure Nico.”

  The cowherd spit into the grass. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes, you fool!”

  Eurytion looked bored, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler.

  “Pick up the sword, too,” Geryon said with distaste. “There’s nothing I hate worse than Stygian Iron.”

  Eurytion picked up the sword, careful not to touch the blade.

  “Now,” Geryon said cheerfully, “we’ve had the tour. Let’s go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris-message to our friends in the Titan army.”

  “You fiend!” Annabeth cried.

  Geryon smiled at her. “Don’t worry, my dear. Once I’ve delivered Mr. di Angelo, you and your party can go. I don’t interfere with quests. Besides, I’ve been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I’m afraid, include Mr. di Angelo.

  “Paid by whom?” Annabeth said. “What do you mean?”

  “Never you mind, darlin’. Let’s be off, shall we?”

  “Wait!” I said, and Orthus growled. I stayed perfectly still so he wouldn’t tear my throat out. “Geryon, you said you’re a businessman. Make me a deal.”

  Geryon narrowed his eyes. “What sort of 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,” Eurytion 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 horses don’t eat you,” Geryon 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!”

  Geryon chuckled. “Percy Jackson, those stables haven’t been cleaned in a thousand years…though it’s true I might be able to sell more stable space if all that poop was cleared away.”

  “So what have you got to lose?”

  The rancher 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.”

  Eurytion gave me a funny look. It might have been sympathy. He whistled, and the dog jumped off me and onto Annabeth’s lap. She yelped. I knew Tyson and grover would never try anything as long as Annabeth was 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.”

  Geryon got behind the driver’s wheel. Eurytion hauled Nico into the backseat.

  “Sunset,” Geryon reminded me. “No later.”

  He laughed at me once more, sounded his cowbell horn, and the moomobile rumbled off down the trail.

  NINE

  I SCOOP POOP

  I lost hope when I saw the horses’ teeth.

  As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block the smell. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear’s.

  I tried to talk to him in my mind. I can do that with most horses. Hi, I told him. I’m going to clean your stables. Won’t that be great?

  Yes! The horse said. Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood!

  But I’m Poseidon’s son, I protested. He created horses. Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, but not this time.

  Yes! The horse agreed enthusiastically. Poseidon can come in, too! We will eat you both! Seafood!

  Seafood! The other horses chimed in as they waded through the field. Flies were buzzing everywhere, and the heat of the day didn’t make the smell any better. I’d had some idea that I could do this challenge, because I remembered how Hercules had done it. He’d channeled a river into the stables and cleaned them out that way. I figured I could maybe control the water. But
if I couldn’t get close to the horses without getting eaten, that was a problem. And the river was downhill from the stables, a lot farther away than I’d realized, almost half a mile. The problem of the poop looked a lot bigger up close. I picked up a rusted shovel and experimentally scooped some away from the fence line. Great. Only four billion shovelfuls to go. The sun was already sinking. I had a few hours at best. I decided the river was my only hope. At least it would be easier to think at the riverside than it was here. I set off downhill.

  * * *

  When I got to the river, I found a girl waiting for me. She was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt and her long brown hair was braided with river grass. She had a stern look on her face. Her arms were crossed.

  “Oh no you don’t,” she said.

  I stared at her. “Are you a naiad?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course!”

  “But you speak English. And you’re out of the water.”

  “What, you don’t think we can act human if we want to?”

  I’d never thought about it. I kind of felt stupid, though, because I’d seen plenty of naiads at camp, and they’d never done much more than giggle and wave at me from the bottom of the canoe lake.

  “Look,” I said. “I just came to ask—”

  “I know who you are,” she said. “And I know what you want. And the answer is no! I’m not going to have my river used again to clean that filthy stable.”

  “But—”

  “Oh, save it, sea boy. You ocean-god types always think you’re soooo much more important than some little river, don’t you? well let me tell you, this naiad is not going to be pushed around just because your daddy is Poseidon. This is freshwater territory, mister. The last guy who asked me this favor—oh, he was way better-looking than you, by the way—he convinced me, and that was the worst mistake I’ve ever made! Do you have any idea what all that horse manure does to my ecosystem? Do I look like a sewage treatment plant to you? My fish will die. I’ll never get the much out of my plants. I’ll be sick for years. NO THANK YOU!”

  The way she talked reminded me of my mortal friend, Rachel Elizabeth Dare—kind of like she was punching me with words. I couldn’t blame the naiad. Now that I thought about it, I’d be pretty mad if somebody dumped four million pounds of manure in my home. But still…”

  “My friends are in danger,” I told her.

  “Well, that’s too bad! But it’s not my problem. And you’re not going to ruin my river.”

  She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her fists were balled, but I thought I heard a little quiver in her voice. Suddenly I realized that despite her angry attitude, she was afraid of me. She probably thought I was going to fight her for control of the river, and she was worried she would lose. The thought made me sad. I felt like a bully, a son of Poseidon throwing his weight around.

  I sat down on a tree stump. “Okay, you win.”

  The naiad looked surprised. “Really?”

  “I’m not going to fight you. It’s your river.”

  She relaxed her shoulders. “Oh. Oh, good. I mean—good thing for you!”

  “But my friends and I are going to get sold to the Titans if I don’t clean those stables by sunset. And I don’t know how.”

  The river gurgled along cheerfully. A snake slid through the water and ducked its head under. Finally the naiad sighed.

  “I’ll tell you a secret, son of the sea god. Scoop up some dirt.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I crouched down and scooped up a handful of Texas dirt. It was dry and black and spotted with tiny clumps of white rock…No, something besides rock.

  “Those are shells,” the naiad said. “Petrified seashells. Millions of years ago, even before the time of the gods, when only Gaea and Ouranos reigned, this land was under the water. It was part of the sea.”

  Suddenly I saw what she meant. There were little pieces of ancient sea urchins in my hand, mollusk shells. Even the limestone rocks had impressions of seashells embedded in them.

  “Okay,” I said. “What good does that do me?”

  “You’re not so different from me, demigod. Even when I’m out of the water, the water is within me. It is my life source.” She stepped back, put her feet in the river, and smiled. “I hope you find a way to rescue your friends.”

  And with that she turned to liquid and melted into the river.

  * * *

  The sun was touching the hills when I got back to the stables. Somebody must’ve come by and fed the horses, because they were tearing into huge animal carcasses. I couldn’t tell what kind of animal, and I really didn’t want to know. If it was possible for the stables to get more disgusting, fifty horses tearing into raw meat did it.

  Seafood! one thought when he saw me. Come in! We’re still hungry!

  What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t use the river. And the fact that this place had been under water a million years ago didn’t exactly help me now. I looked at the little calcified seashell in my palm, then at the huge mountain of dung.

  Frustrated, I threw the shell into the poop. I was about to turn my back on the horses when I heard a sound.

  PFFFFFFT! Like a balloon with a leak.

  I looked down where I had thrown the shell. A tiny spout of water was shooting out of the muck.

  “No way,” I muttered.

  Hesitantly, I stepped toward the fence. “Get bigger,” I told the waterspout. SPOOOOOOOSH!

  Water shot three feet into the air and kept bubbling. It was impossible, but there it was. A couple of horses came over to check it out. One put his mouth to the spring and recoiled.

  Yuck! he said. Salty!

  It was seawater in the middle of a Texas ranch. I scooped up another handful of dirt and picked out the shell fossils. I didn’t really know what I was doing, but I ran around the length of the stable, throwing shells into the dung piles. Everywhere a shell hit, a saltwater spring erupted. Stop! The horses cried. Meat is good! Baths are bad!

  Then I noticed the water wasn’t running out of the stables or flowing downhill like water normally would. It simply bubbled around each spring and sank into the ground, taking the dung with it. The horse poop dissolved in the saltwater, leaving regular old wet dirt.

  “More!” I yelled.

  There was a tugging sensation in my gut, and the waterspouts exploded like the world’s largest carwash. Salt water shot twenty feet into the air. The horses went crazy, running back and forth as the geysers sprayed them from all directions. Mountains of poop began to melt like ice. The tugging sensation became more intense, painful even, but there was something exhilarating about seeing all that salt water. I had made this. I had brought the ocean to this hillside.

  Stop, lord! a horse cried. Stop, please!

  Water was sloshing everywhere now. The horses were drenched, and some were panicking and slipping in the mud. The poop was completely gone, tons of it just dissolved into the earth, and the water was now starting to pool, trickling out of the stable, making a hundred little streams down toward the river.

  “Stop,” I told the water.

  Nothing happened. The pain in my gut was building. If I didn’t shut off the geysers soon, the salt water would run into the river and poison the fish and plants.

  “Stop!” I concentrated all my might on shutting off the force of the sea. Suddenly the geysers shut down. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. In front of me was a shiny clean horse stable, a field of wet salty mud, and fifty horses that had been scoured so thoroughly their coats gleamed. Even the meat scraps between their teeth had been washed out.

  We won’t eat you! the horses wailed. Please, lord! no more salty baths!

  “On one condition,” I said. “You only eat the food your handlers give you from now on. Not people. Or I’ll be back with more seashells!”

  The horses whinnied and made me a whole lot of promises that they would be good flesh-eating horses from now on, but I didn’t stick around to chat.
The sun was going down. I turned and ran full speed toward the ranch house.

  * * *

  I smelled barbecue before I reached the house, and that made me madder than ever, because I really love barbecue.

  The deck was set up for a party. Streamers and balloons decorated the railing. Geryon was flipping burgers on a huge barbecue cooker made from an oil drum. Eurytion lounged at a picnic table, picking his fingernails with a knife. The two-headed dog sniffed the ribs and burgers that were frying on the grill. And then I saw my friends: Tyson, Grover, Annabeth, and Nico all tossed in a corner, tied up like rodeo animals, with their ankles and wrists roped together and their mouths gagged.

  “Let them go!” I yelled, still out of breath from running up the steps. “I cleaned the stables!”

  Geryon turned. He wore an apron on each chest, with one word on each, so together they spelled out: KISS—THE—CHEF. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it?”

  I was pretty impatient, but I told him.

  He nodded appreciatively. “Very ingenious. It would’ve been better if you’d poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter.”

  “Let my friends go,” I said. “We had a deal.”

  “Ah, I’ve been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I don’t get paid.”

  “You promised!”

  Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. “But did you make me swear on the River Styx? No you didn’t. So it’s not binding. When you’re conducting business, sonny, you should always get a binding oath.”

  I drew my sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to Grover’s ear and bared its fangs.

  “Eurytion,” Geryon said, “the boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him.”

  Eurytion studied me. I didn’t like my odds against him and that huge club.