The Heroes of Olympus: The Demigod Diaries Page 7

  I glanced at Annabeth, hoping she had a great idea—like running away. Instead, she started toward the bulldozer.

  We’d just reached the middle of the cave when a groan echoed from the far tunnel. We ducked behind the bulldozer just as the giant appeared from the darkness, stretching his massive arms.

  “Breakfast,” he rumbled.

  I could see him clearly now, and I wished I couldn’t.

  How ugly was he? Let’s put it this way: Secaucus, New Jersey, was a lot nicer-looking than Cacus the giant, and that’s not a compliment to anybody.

  As Hermes had said, the giant was about ten feet tall, which made him small compared to some other giants I’d seen. But Cacus made up for it by being bright and gaudy. He had curly orange hair, pale skin, and orange freckles. His face was smeared upward with a permanent pout, upturned nose, wide eyes, and arched eyebrows, so he appeared both startled and unhappy. He wore a red velour housecoat with matching slippers. The housecoat was open, revealing silky Valentine-patterned boxer shorts and luxurious chest hair of a red/pink/orange color not found in nature.

  Annabeth made a small gagging sound. “It’s the ginger giant.”

  Unfortunately, the giant had extremely good hearing. He frowned and scanned the cavern, zeroing in on our hiding place.

  “Who’s there?” he bellowed. “You—behind the bulldozer.”

  Annabeth and I looked at each other. She mouthed, Oops.

  “Come on!” the giant said. “I don’t appreciate sneaking about! Show yourself.”

  That sounded like a really terrible idea. Then again, we were pretty much busted anyway. Maybe the giant would listen to reason, despite the fact that he wore Valentine boxer shorts.

  I took out my ballpoint pen and uncapped it. My bronze sword Riptide sprang to life. Annabeth pulled out her shield and dagger. None of our weapons looked very intimidating against a dude that big, but together we stepped into the open.

  The giant grinned. “Well! Demigods, are you? I call for breakfast, and you two appear? That’s quite accommodating.”

  “We’re not breakfast,” Annabeth said.

  “No?” The giant stretched lazily. Twin wisps of smoke escaped his nostrils. “I imagine you’d taste wonderful with tortillas, salsa, and eggs. Huevos semidiós. Just thinking about it makes me hungry!”

  He sauntered over to the row of fly-specked cow carcasses.

  My stomach twisted. I muttered, “Oh, he’s not really gonna—”

  Cacus snatched one of the carcasses off a hook. He blew fire over it—a red-hot torrent of flame that cooked the meat in seconds but didn’t seem to hurt the giant’s hands at all. Once the cow was crispy and sizzling, Cacus unhinged his jaw, opening his mouth impossibly wide, and downed the carcass in three massive bites, bones and all.

  “Yep,” Annabeth said weakly. “He really did it.”

  The giant belched. He wiped his steaming greasy hands on his robe and grinned at us. “So, if you’re not breakfast, you must be customers. What can I interest you in?”

  He sounded relaxed and friendly, like he was happy to talk with us. Between that and the red velour housecoat, he almost didn’t seem dangerous. Except of course that he was ten feet tall, blew fire, and ate cows in three bites.

  I stepped forward. Call me old-fashioned, but I wanted to keep his focus on me and not Annabeth. I think it’s polite for a guy to protect his girlfriend from instant incineration.

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “We might be customers. What do you sell?”

  Cacus laughed. “What do I sell? Everything, demigod! At bargain basement prices, and you can’t find a basement lower than this!” He gestured around the cavern. “I’ve got designer handbags, Italian suits, um…some construction equipment, apparently, and if you’re in the market for a Rolex…”

  He opened his robe. Pinned to the inside was a glittering array of gold and silver watches.

  Annabeth snapped her fingers. “Fakes! I knew I’d seen that stuff before. You got all this from street merchants, didn’t you? They’re designer knockoffs.”

  The giant looked offended. “Not just any knockoffs, young lady. I steal only the best! I’m a son of Hephaestus. I know quality fakes when I see them.”

  I frowned. “A son of Hephaestus? Then shouldn’t you be making things rather than stealing them?”

  Cacus snorted. “Too much work! Oh, sometimes if I find a high-quality item I’ll make my own copies. But mostly it’s easier to steal things. I started with cattle thieving, you know, back in the old days. Love cattle! That’s why I settled in the Meatpacking District. Then I discovered they have more than meat here!”

  He grinned as if this was an amazing discovery. “Street vendors, high-end boutiques—this is a wonderful city, even better than Ancient Rome! And the workers were very nice to make me this cave.”

  “Before you ran them off,” Annabeth said, “and almost killed them.”

  Cacus stifled a yawn. “Are you sure you’re not breakfast? Because you’re beginning to bore me. If you don’t want to buy something, I’ll go get the salsa and tortillas—”

  “We were looking for something special,” I interrupted. “Something real. And magic. But I guess you don’t have anything like that.”

  “Ha!” Cacus clapped his hands. “A high-end shopper. If I haven’t got what you need in stock, I can steal it, for the right price, of course.”

  “Hermes’s staff,” I said. “The caduceus.”

  The giant’s face turned as red as his hair. His eyes narrowed. “I see. I should’ve known Hermes would send someone. Who are you two? Children of the thief god?”

  Annabeth raised her knife. “Did he just call me Hermes’s kid? I’m going stab him in the—”

  “I’m Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon,” I told the giant. I put out my arm to hold Annabeth back. “This is Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. We help out the gods sometimes with little stuff, like—oh, killing Titans, saving Mount Olympus, things like that. Perhaps you’ve heard stories. So about that caduceus…it would be easier just to hand it over before things get unpleasant.”

  I looked him in the eyes and hoped my threat would work. I know it seems ridiculous, a sixteen-year-old trying to stare down a fire-breathing giant. But I had battled some pretty serious monsters before. Plus, I’d bathed in the River Styx, which made me immune to most physical attacks. That should be worth a little street cred, right? Maybe Cacus had heard of me. Maybe he would tremble and whimper, Oh, Mr. Jackson. I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize!

  Instead he threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, I see! That was supposed to scare me! But alas, the only demigod who ever defeated me was Hercules himself.”

  I turned to Annabeth and shook my head in exasperation. “Always Hercules. What is it with Hercules?”

  Annabeth shrugged. “He had a great publicist.”

  The giant kept boasting. “For centuries, I was the terror of Italy! I stole many cows—more than any other giant. Mothers used to scare their children with my name. They would say, ‘Mind your manners, child, or Cacus will come and steal your cows!’”

  “Horrifying,” Annabeth said.

  The giant grinned. “I know! Right? So you may as well give up, demigods. You’ll never get the caduceus. I have plans for that!”

  He raised his hand and the staff of Hermes appeared in his grip. I’d seen it many times before, but it still sent a shiver down my back. Godly items just radiate power. The staff was smooth white wood about three feet long, topped with a silver sphere and dove’s wings that fluttered nervously. Intertwined around the staff were two live, very agitated serpents.

  Percy! A reptilian voice spoke in my mind. Thank the gods!

  Another snaky voice, deeper and grumpier, said, Yes, I haven’t been fed in hours.

  “Martha, George,” I said. “Are you guys all right?”

  Better if I got some food, George complained. There are some nice rats down here. Could you catch us some?

  George, stop! Mart
ha chided. We have bigger problems. This giant wants to keep us!

  Cacus looked back and forth from me to the snakes. “Wait…You can speak with the snakes, Percy Jackson? That’s excellent! Tell them they’d better start cooperating. I’m their new master, and they’ll only get fed when they start taking orders.”

  The nerve! Martha shrieked. You tell that ginger jerk—

  “Hold on,” Annabeth interrupted. “Cacus, the snakes will never obey you. They only work for Hermes. Since you can’t use the staff, it doesn’t do you any good. Just give it back and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

  “Great idea,” I said.

  The giant snarled. “Oh, I’ll figure out the staff’s powers, girl. I’ll make the snakes cooperate!”

  Cacus shook the caduceus. George and Martha wriggled and hissed, but they seemed stuck to the staff. I knew the caduceus could turn into all sorts of helpful things—a sword, a cell phone, a price scanner for easy comparison-shopping. And once George had mentioned something disturbing about “laser mode.” I really didn’t want Cacus figuring out that feature.

  Finally the giant growled in frustration. He slammed the staff against the nearest cow carcass and instantly the meat turned to stone. A wave of petrifaction spread from carcass to carcass until the rack became so heavy it collapsed. Half a dozen granite cows broke to pieces.

  “Now, that’s interesting!” Cacus beamed.

  “Uh-oh.” Annabeth took a step back.

  The giant swung the staff in our direction. “Yes! Soon I will master this thing and be as powerful as Hermes. I’ll be able to go anywhere! I’ll steal anything I want, make high-quality knockoffs, and sell them around the world. I will be the lord of traveling salesmen!”

  “That,” I said, “is truly evil.”

  “Ha-ha!” Cacus raised the caduceus in triumph. “I had my doubts, but now I’m convinced. Stealing this staff was an excellent idea! Now let’s see how I can kill you with it.”

  “Wait!” Annabeth said. “You mean it wasn’t your idea to steal the staff?”

  “Kill them!” Cacus ordered the snakes. He pointed the caduceus at us, but the silver tip only spewed slips of paper. Annabeth picked up one and read it.

  “You’re trying to kill us with Groupons,” she announced. “‘Eighty-five percent off piano lessons.’”

  “Gah!” Cacus glared at the snakes and breathed a fiery warning shot over their heads. “Obey me!”

  George and Martha squirmed in alarm.

  Stop that! Martha cried.

  We’re cold-blooded! George protested. Fire is not good!

  “Hey, Cacus!” I shouted, trying to get back his attention. “Answer our question. Who told you to steal the staff?”

  The giant sneered. “Foolish demigod. When you defeated Kronos, did you think you eliminated all the enemies of the gods? You only delayed the fall of Olympus for a little while longer. Without the staff, Hermes will be unable to carry messages. Olympian communication lines will be disrupted, and that’s only the first bit of chaos my friends have planned.”

  “Your friends?” Annabeth asked.

  Cacus waved off the question. “Doesn’t matter. You won’t live that long, and I’m only in it for the money. With this staff, I’ll make millions! Maybe even thousands! Now hold still. Perhaps I can get a good price on two demigod statues.”

  I wasn’t fond of threats like that. I’d had enough of them a few years ago when I fought Medusa. I wasn’t anxious to fight this guy, but I also knew I couldn’t leave George and Martha at his mercy. Besides, the world had enough traveling salesmen. Nobody deserved to answer their door and find a fire-breathing giant with a magic staff and a collection of knockoff Rolexes.

  I looked at Annabeth. “Time to fight?”

  She gave me a sweet smile. “Smartest thing you’ve said all morning.”

  You’re probably thinking: Wait, you just charged in without a plan?

  But Annabeth and I had been fighting together for years. We knew each other’s abilities. We could anticipate each other’s moves. I might have felt awkward and nervous about being her boyfriend, but fighting with her? That came naturally.

  Hmm…that sounded wrong. Oh, well.

  Annabeth veered to the giant’s left. I charged him head-on. I was still out of sword-reach when Cacus unhinged his jaw and blew fire.

  My next startling discovery: flaming breath is hot.

  I managed to leap to one side, but I could feel my arms starting to warm up and my clothes igniting. I rolled through the mud to douse the flames and knocked over a rack of women’s coats.

  The giant roared. “Look what you’ve done! Those are genuine fake Prada!”

  Annabeth used the distraction to strike. She lunged at Cacus from behind and stabbed him in the back of the knee—usually a nice soft spot on monsters. She leaped away as Cacus swung the caduceus, barely missing her. The silver tip slammed into the bulldozer and the entire machine turned to stone.

  “I’ll kill you!” Cacus stumbled, golden ichor pouring from his wounded leg.

  He blew fire at Annabeth, but she dodged the blast. I lunged with Riptide and slashed my blade across the giant’s other leg.

  You’d think that would be enough, right? But no.

  Cacus bellowed in pain. He turned with surprising speed, smacking me with the back of his hand. I went flying and crashed into a pile of broken stone cows. My vision blurred. Annabeth yelled, “Percy!” but her voice sounded as though it were underwater.

  Move! Martha’s voice spoke in my mind. He’s about to strike!

  Roll left! George said, which was one of the more helpful suggestions he’d ever made. I rolled to the left as the caduceus smashed into the pile of stone where I’d been lying.

  I heard a CLANG! And the giant screamed, “Gah!”

  I staggered to my feet. Annabeth had just smacked her shield across the giant’s backside. Being an expert at school expulsion, I’d gotten kicked out of several military academies where they still believed paddling was good for the soul. I had a fair idea how it felt to get spanked with a large flat surface, and my rump clenched in sympathy.

  Cacus staggered, but before Annabeth could discipline him again, he turned and snatched the shield from her. He crumpled the Celestial bronze like paper and tossed it over his shoulder.

  So much for that magic item.

  “Enough!” Cacus leveled the staff at Annabeth.

  I was still dizzy. My spine felt like it had been treated to a night at Crusty’s Water Bed Palace, but I stumbled forward, determined to help Annabeth. Before I could get there, the caduceus changed form. It became a cell phone and rang to the tune of “Macarena.” George and Martha, now the size of earthworms, curled around the screen.

  Good one, George said.

  We danced to this at our wedding, Martha said. Remember, dear?

  “Stupid snakes!” Cacus shook the cell phone violently.

  Eek! Martha said.

  Help—me! George’s voice quivered. Must—obey—red—bathrobe!

  The phone grew back into a staff.

  “Now, behave!” Cacus warned the snakes. “Or I’ll turn you two into a fake Gucci handbag!”

  Annabeth ran to my side. Together we backed up until we were next to the ladder.

  “Our tag game strategy isn’t working so well,” she noticed. She was breathing heavily. The left sleeve of her T-shirt was smoldering, but otherwise she looked okay. “Any suggestions?”

  My ears were ringing. Her voice still sounded like she was underwater.

  Wait…under water.

  I looked up the tunnel—all those broken pipes embedded in the rock: waterlines, sewer ducts. Being the son of the sea god, I could sometimes control water. I wondered…

  “I don’t like you!” Cacus yelled. He stalked toward us, smoke pouring from his nostrils. “It’s time to end this.”

  “Hold on,” I told Annabeth. I wrapped my free hand around her waist.

  I concentrated on finding wat
er above us. It wasn’t hard. I felt a dangerous amount of pressure in the city’s waterlines, and I summoned it all into the broken pipes.

  Cacus towered over us, his mouth glowing like a furnace. “Any last words, demigod?”

  “Look up,” I told him.

  He did.

  Note to self: When causing the sewer system of Manhattan to explode, do not stand underneath it.

  The whole cavern rumbled as a thousand water pipes burst overhead. A not-so-clean waterfall slammed Cacus in the face. I yanked Annabeth out the way, then leaped back into the edge of the torrent, carrying Annabeth with me.

  “What are you—?” She made a strangling sound. “Ahhh!”

  I’d never attempted this before, but I willed myself to travel upstream like a salmon, jumping from current to current as the water gushed into the cavern. If you’ve ever tried running up a wet slide, it was kind of like that, except at a ninety-degree angle and with no slide—just water.

  Far below I heard Cacus bellowing as millions, maybe even thousands of filthy gallons of water slammed into him. Meanwhile Annabeth alternately shouted, gagged, hit me, called me endearing pet names like “Idiot! Stupid—dirty—moron—” and topped it all off with “Kill you!”

  Finally we shot out of the ground atop a disgusting geyser and landed safely on the pavement.

  Pedestrians and cops backed away, yelling in alarm at our sewage version of Old Faithful. Brakes screeched and cars rear-ended each other as drivers stopped to watch the chaos.

  I willed myself dry—a handy trick—but I still smelled pretty bad. Annabeth had old cotton balls stuck in her hair and a wet candy wrapper plastered to her face.

  “That,” she said, “was horrible!”

  “On the bright side,” I said, “we’re alive.”

  “Without the caduceus!”

  I grimaced. Yeah…minor detail. Maybe the giant would drown. Then he’d dissolve and return to Tartarus the way most defeated monsters do, and we could go collect the caduceus.

  That sounded reasonable enough.

  The geyser receded, followed by the horrendous sound of water draining down the tunnel, like somebody up on Olympus had flushed the godly toilet.