We walked for miles. The Jersey rain was cold, and my road rash stung every time my shirt rubbed against it.
"We need food," I grumbled. My stomach gave a low, menacing growl that sounded like a small tiger. "If I don't eat soon, I'm going to start chewing on Grover's tin cans."
"We have no money," Annabeth reminded me. "Unless you want to rob a vending machine again."
"Don't tempt me."
The smell hit us before we saw the building. It was the smell of greasy, delicious, deep-fried hamburger meat.
"Jackpot," Grover bleated.
We came out of the woods onto a desolate road. Across the street sat a warehouse-style building. The sign was faded, but I could make out the letters: AUNTY EM'S GARDEN GNOME EMPORIUM.
My brain did a hard reset.
Aunty Em. M. Medusa.
"Wait," I said, stopping in the middle of the road. "Guys. Pause."
"What?" Percy asked, sniffing the air. "It smells like burgers, Val."
"It's a trap," I said. "This is Medusa's place. I remember this. Don't look at her eyes."
Annabeth frowned. "Medusa? In New Jersey? That's a myth even for us, Valerius. She lives in..."
"She lives wherever she wants," I snapped. "Look at the statues."
I pointed to the garden. It was filled with stone figures. Children, satyrs, adults. They were incredibly lifelike. Too lifelike.
"They're just statues," Grover said, though he looked nervous. "Come on, I smell fries."
My stomach betrayed me. The smell of the food was overpowering. It was a divine scent—literally. It was designed to lure us in. My hunger, fueled by my burning metabolism, was clouding my judgment.
Maybe it's not her, I reasoned, my resolve crumbling. Maybe in this timeline, it's just a weird lady who likes art.
"Fine," I said, tightening my grip on my hammer case. "But keep your weapons ready. And if she asks us to pose for a photo, we run."
The FeastThe inside of the warehouse was cluttered with statues. Eyes, terrified faces, frozen in stone.
"Please, come in!" a voice rasped.
A woman in a long black veil and a dress that covered everything drifted toward us. "You poor dears. You look like you've been through a war."
"Just a bus crash, ma'am," Percy said politely.
"Sit. Eat."
She brought out trays of burgers, fries, and shakes.
I didn't wait. I grabbed a double cheeseburger and inhaled it. It was the best thing I'd ever tasted. I ate three before anyone else finished one.
But as the sugar hit my bloodstream, my brain started working again.
I looked at "Aunty Em." Her veil was moving. Not from a breeze. The fabric was undulating, like things were writhing underneath it.
Snakes, I thought. Definitely snakes.
"So," Aunty Em said, her voice silky. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, my dear," she said to Annabeth. "Just like... a woman I used to know."
Annabeth stiffened. "Who?"
"And you," she turned to Percy. "Green eyes. Like the sea."
She ignored me. I was busy wiping ketchup off my face.
"I would love to capture your likenesses," she said, standing up. "I am a sculptor, you see. Would you pose for me? Just for a moment?"
"No," Annabeth said, standing up. "We have to go."
"Oh, but I insist," Em said. Her hand went to her veil. "It will only take a second."
"Don't do it!" I shouted.
I kicked the table over. Burgers and fries went flying.
"Close your eyes!" I roared. "It's her!"
The Fight"Such rude children," Medusa hissed.
She ripped the veil off.
"DON'T LOOK!" Annabeth screamed.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight. Darkness.
I heard the sound of snakes hissing—a wet, angry sound like frying bacon.
"I will add you to my collection!" Medusa shrieked.
I heard Percy uncap Riptide. Schwing.
"Percy, get back!" I yelled. "You can't fight what you can't see!"
"I can use the reflection!" Percy shouted. He was looking into a gazing ball—a glass sphere in the garden. "Val, she's moving left!"
I stood there, blind, gripping Mjolnir-Lite.
This was bad. I relied on sight. I wasn't a ninja. I was a brawler.
"Grover!" Medusa taunted. "Look at me, little satyr!"
"Maia!" Grover yelled. I heard the sound of winged shoes fluttering. Grover was flying, trying to distract her with a tree branch. "Over here, ugly!"
Medusa hissed. I heard the slide of scales on gravel. She was close.
"Valerius!" Annabeth shouted. "She's at your three o'clock! Swing!"
I didn't think. I trusted Annabeth's math.
I pivoted on my heel and swung the hammer horizontally with everything I had.
WHOOSH.
I hit nothing but air.
"Missed me," Medusa whispered. Her voice was right in my ear. I could feel the cold breath of the snakes on my neck.
My blood froze. If I opened my eyes, I was dead. If I moved wrong, I was dead.
I dropped to my knees.
It was instinct. A split second later, I felt her claws slash the air where my head had been.
"Percy, now!" I yelled.
"I can't get a clear shot!" Percy yelled. "She's too close to you!"
Fine. I'll do it myself.
I didn't stand up. I stayed on my knees. I listened.
Hiss. Slither. Crackle.
She was circling me. Toying with me.
I remembered something Luke said during our sparring session. Strength telegraphs. You wind up like a pitcher.
I didn't wind up this time.
I tightened my grip on the hammer. I focused on the smell—the ancient, dusty, reptilian stink of her.
"Come on," I whispered. "Take a bite."
I felt the air pressure change. She was lunging.
I didn't swing outward. I thrust the hammer upward, like an uppercut, using the spike on the back of the head.
THWUCK.
It was a wet, heavy impact. The hammer stopped dead.
"Gaaah!" Medusa screeched.
I had hit something.
"Val, you got her shoulder!" Annabeth yelled. "Finish it!"
She was stunned. I scrambled forward, keeping my eyes squeezed shut. I dropped the hammer. I needed hands.
I tackled the sound of the screeching.
My hands found her arm. Scaly. Cold. I slid my grip up. I found her neck.
It felt like a bundle of writhing muscular ropes—the snakes. They bit my hands. It hurt like hell, venom burning my skin, but I didn't let go.
"Percy, sword!" I screamed.
"Here!"
I felt the hilt of Riptide being shoved into my right hand.
I held Medusa's neck with my left hand, pinning her to the ground. She was strong—stronger than a mortal—but I was the son of Zeus. I was the anchor.
"Smile for the camera," I gritted out.
I swung the sword in a flat arc, guided by my left hand.
SHWICK.
The resistance vanished. The hissing stopped.
Silence.
"Is... is she dead?" I panted, not opening my eyes.
"Yeah," Percy breathed. "Dude. You decapitated her."
I opened my eyes.
Medusa's body was dissolving into dust. Her head, however, lay on the gravel a few feet away, eyes still open, snakes still twitching feebly.
I looked at my hand. It was covered in green slime and snake bites.
"Gross," I said.
The TrophyI stood up, handing Riptide back to Percy.
"Nice assist," I said.
"Assist?" Percy looked at the pile of dust. "You tackled a Gorgon blindfolded. You're crazy."
"I was hungry," I shrugged. "Low blood sugar makes me irritable."
Annabeth walked over to the head. She didn't look at the face. She threw the black veil over it.
"We take it," she said. "It's a spoil of war."
"I'm not carrying that," Grover said, looking green.
"I got it," I said. I picked up the wrapped head. It was heavy. It dripped green ichor onto my shoes. "Might come in handy. Who knows? Maybe we can petrify a teacher later."
I looked around the Emporium. The statues of the terrified people.
"We should free them," Percy said. "Or... I don't know."
"We can't," Annabeth said sadly. "Stone is stone."
I walked over to the office. I found a box of shipping labels.
"Hey," I called out. "I have an idea."
I grabbed the head. I grabbed a box. I shoved the head inside and taped it shut.
"Who are you sending it to?" Percy asked.
I picked up a marker. I wrote in big, bold letters:
TO: THE GODS MOUNT OLYMPUS 600TH FLOOR, EMPIRE STATE BUILDING ATTN: ZEUS & POSEIDON
"A little gift," I smirked. "Let them know we're not just surviving. We're winning."
"They're going to hate that," Grover whimpered. "They're going to blast us."
"Let them try," I said, hoisting the box. "I'm already on their naughty list."
We walked out of the Emporium into the rain. I felt stronger. The venom in my hand was already fading, my godly immune system burning it out.
I had my first kill. A real, legendary kill.
Checkmate, Hercules, I thought. I'm coming for your record.
After I taped up the box to the gods, I started rummaging through Aunty Em's desk.
"What are you doing?" Annabeth asked, wiping monster dust off her armor.
"Looting," I said, pulling open a drawer. "We're broke, hungry, and I just killed a Gorgon. I think I deserve a tip."
I found a leather pouch filled with mortal cash—wads of twenties and hundreds.
"Score," I muttered, tossing a stack of bills to Percy. "Budget for the road. No more stealing from vending machines."
Then, I saw it. A heavy billing manifesto on the desk. It was for a shipment of garden statues.
DESTINATION: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS WEST HOLLYWOOD, CALIFORNIA ATTN: HADES
"Guys," I called out. "I found the address."
Percy looked at the paper. "DOA Recording Studios? The Underworld is a record label?"
"Makes sense," Grover shivered. "Most pop music is torture."
I stuffed the cash into my pocket and grabbed a bag of double-stuffed Oreos from Medusa's snack stash.
"We have a target," I said, walking to the door and kicking it open. The rain had stopped. The air smelled cleaner. "West Hollywood. Let's go."
We walked into the night, leaving the headless body of a legend behind us.