Denver was cold. Not the crisp, pleasant cold of a ski trip, but the biting, industrial cold of a city that sits a mile high and doesn't care if you're freezing.
We had been riding the rails for two days since the Arch incident. We were dirty, exhausted, and hungry. My leather jacket was shredded from the tunnel slide, and my war hammer case was covered in soot.
"I need calories," I announced, my breath puffing in the icy air. "If I don't eat a steak in the next hour, I'm going to start biting chunks out of parked cars."
"There," Annabeth pointed.
Across the street, bathed in the flickering neon of a dying sign, was a diner. Papa's Pastaria & Steaks.
It looked sketchy. The windows were grime-streaked, and a row of heavy motorcycles was parked out front.
"Bikers," Grover nervously chewed on his shirt collar. "Val, maybe we should find a salad bar?"
"Bikers eat meat," I said, marching across the street. "And right now, that makes them my people."
The Aura of WarThe moment I opened the door, the smell hit me.
It wasn't just frying grease and stale coffee. It was the smell of violence. It smelled like gun oil, hot asphalt, and dried blood.
The diner was empty except for one booth in the back. A waitress was nervously refilling a coffee cup for a man sitting there.
He was huge. He wore a red muscle shirt that strained against biceps the size of basketballs. He had a black leather duster draped over the seat and a knife sheathed on his belt that looked big enough to skin a crocodile. He wore wraparound sunglasses, even though it was dark inside.
But it was the feeling that stopped me.
Percy and Annabeth flinched, instinctively stepping back. To them, the guy radiated fear.
To me? He radiated opportunity.
It felt like walking into a boxing ring. My heart rate spiked, not from panic, but from aggression. The static in my blood woke up. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to buy him a drink. I wanted to flip the table.
"Well," the man rumbled. His voice sounded like a tank engine idling. "The runts arrived."
He looked up. Even through the sunglasses, I could feel the heat of his gaze. He looked at Percy with sneering contempt. He looked at Annabeth with mockery.
Then he looked at me.
He grinned. It was a cruel, scarred grin.
"And the Smasher," he said. "I saw the news footage from St. Louis. Nice form on the throw. A little sloppy on the landing, though."
"Who are you?" Percy asked, stepping in front of Annabeth.
The man scoffed. "Sit down, punk. I'm buying."
He snapped his fingers. The waitress scurried over with four menus, looking terrified.
"Whatever they want," the man said. "Put it on my tab."
I slid into the booth opposite him. I didn't hesitate. I stared right at his sunglasses.
"Ares," I said. It wasn't a question.
"Sharp kid," Ares nodded. He leaned back, spreading his arms across the booth. The air around him shimmered, distorting the light. "God of War. But you can call me Sir."
"I'll call you Ares," I said, picking up a menu. "Sir is for people I respect."
Grover made a small squeaking sound. Percy kicked me under the table.
Ares didn't get mad. He laughed. "Hah! That's the Zeus in you. Arrogant. Loud. I like it."
The PitchThe waitress brought food. I ordered three steaks, rare. Percy got a burger. Grover ordered an enchilada and ate the porcelain plate it came on.
Ares watched me eat. He wasn't eating. He was toying with a wicked-looking combat knife, spinning it on the table.
"So," Ares said, pointing the knife at Percy. "You're the little fugitive. Poseidon's mistake. You need a ride west, don't you? To the Underworld?"
"We're doing fine," Percy said stiffly.
"You're doing garbage," Ares corrected. "You're broke, you're walking, and you smell like a wet dog. I can get you a ride. Eighteen-wheeler. direct to LA. Plus supplies."
"What's the catch?" Annabeth asked.
"I left my shield," Ares said, feigning embarrassment. "I was... on a date. With my girlfriend."
"Aphrodite," I muttered, swallowing a bite of steak.
Ares grinned. "She likes the bad boys, kid. We were at this water park. Waterland. We got spooked, left in a hurry. I left my shield there. I need you to fetch it."
"Why don't you get it yourself?" Percy asked. "You're a god."
"And reveal myself to Hephaestus's traps?" Ares sneered. "No thanks. It's a demigod job. Prove you're not worthless."
He turned his head toward me. The sunglasses slid down slightly. Instead of eyes, there were miniature nuclear explosions in his sockets.
"Valerius, right?" Ares said. His voice dropped, becoming conspiratorial. "You don't belong with this nerd patrol."
He gestured to Percy and Grover.
"You're a heavyweight," Ares said. "I felt it when you walked in. You have the itch. The drive to break things. Why are you babysitting the Sea Prince? He's soft. He fights with water. Splish splash."
"He fights fine," I said, cutting another piece of steak.
"He fights defensively," Ares countered. "You fight to win. I could use a guy like you. Ditch the quest. Come work for me. I have a chariot with 500 horsepower. I have weapons that make that hammer of yours look like a toy."
He leaned in. "I can make you the greatest warlord this century has ever seen. No more hiding at camp. Real power. Real wars."
The world seemed to slow down.
It was a tempting offer. In my old life, I was powerless. A corporate drone. Ares was offering me the ultimate promotion.
But then I looked at his eyes again.
There was nothing behind them but chaos. He didn't care about strategy, or reason, or even winning. He just wanted blood. It was boring. It was mindless.
My Fatal Flaw was boredom. And serving a mindless brute? That sounded incredibly boring.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin.
"Pass," I said.
Ares's smile vanished. The air in the diner grew hot. The ketchup bottle on the table exploded.
"Excuse me?" Ares growled.
"I said pass," I repeated, leaning forward. My own eyes, electric blue, sparked. "I'm not a mercenary, Ares. And I don't take orders from someone who leaves his gear behind because he was too busy making out with his girlfriend."
Percy choked on his burger. Annabeth looked like she was praying to Athena.
Ares stared at me. The tension was thick enough to cut with his knife.
Then, slowly, the grin returned. But it wasn't friendly. It was predatory.
"You have guts," Ares said softly. "I'll give you that. Stupid guts. But guts."
He stood up. He towered over the table.
"Get my shield," he commanded. "Waterland. Down the road. Bring it back, and I get you that ride. Fail, and I turn you all into roadkill."
He looked at me one last time.
"You'll come around, Valerius," he promised. "War always finds a way to recruit. Eventually, you'll realize that peace is just the intermission."
He walked out. He swung a leg over his motorcycle—a massive Harley with a seat that looked suspiciously like human leather (okay, maybe it was cow, but it was creepy).
He revved the engine. It didn't sound like a motor; it sounded like a scream. He peeled out, disappearing into the Denver night.
The Walk to Waterland"You are insane," Annabeth whispered after he left. "You insulted a God. To his face."
"He respects strength," I said, finishing my steak. "If I had bowed, he would have crushed me."
"Or," Percy said, looking pale, "he's going to kill us later."
"Probably both," I shrugged. "Let's go get his shield. How hard can a water park be?"
We walked a few miles down the highway until we saw the sign: WATERLAND.
It was abandoned. Weeds grew through the cracks in the pavement. The slides were dry and peeling. The gate was padlocked.
I grabbed the padlock. Crunch. I twisted it off like a bottle cap.
"Ladies first," I said, holding the gate open.
We walked through the park. It was eerie. The wind whistled through the empty tubes.
"The shield will be at the Tunnel of Love," Annabeth deduced. "That's where... they would have been."
We found the ride. It was a long, dark canal with empty swan boats.
And there, on a small island in the middle of the empty pool, lay a shield. It was polished bronze, shining even in the dark.
"Too easy," I said. "Where's the trap?"
"It's Hephaestus," Annabeth said, scanning the area. "He builds machines. Look for tripwires. Sensors."
Percy stepped into the empty pool. "I'll get it. I'm the fastest."
He walked toward the shield. He reached for it.
CLICK.
It was a tiny sound, like a camera shutter.
Suddenly, floodlights blinded us.
"Smile!" a mechanical voice boomed over the PA system. "Broadcasting live to Olympus in 3... 2..."
"It's a trap!" Annabeth yelled. "He wants to catch them cheating!"
But that wasn't the worst part.
From the shadows of the tunnel, things began to scuttle. They looked like metal crabs.
Thousands of them.
"Spiders," Annabeth whispered. Her face went white. She was terrified of spiders.
"Robo-spiders," I corrected. I stepped into the pool, drawing my hammer.
The spiders swarmed. They poured over the sides of the pool like a metallic liquid. They weren't just walking; they were jumping.
"Get the shield!" I yelled at Percy. "I'll hold the line!"
I swung my hammer. CLANG.
I smashed a cluster of five spiders into scrap metal. But ten more took their place. They leaped at me, biting with metal pincers.
"Ow!" I kicked one off my leg. "These things are sharp!"
"Annabeth, help me!" Percy shouted. He had the shield, but the spiders were cutting off his exit.
Annabeth was frozen.
"Valerius!" Percy yelled. "Throw me!"
"What?"
"Throw me to the boat!"
I understood.
I waded through the sea of metal bugs, crunching them under my boots. I grabbed Percy by the back of his shirt and his belt.
"Going up!"
I launched him. Percy sailed over the swarm and landed in one of the swan boats.
"Annabeth!" Percy yelled. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the boat.
"Val! Get in!"
I looked at the swarm. I looked at the boat.
The mechanism started. The water began to flow. The boat started moving toward the exit tunnel.
I was surrounded.
"Go!" I yelled. "I'll catch up!"
"We're not leaving you!" Percy shouted.
"I said GO!"
I slammed my hammer into the ground. A shockwave of blue lightning exploded outward. It fried the circuits of the nearest hundred spiders, sending smoke rising into the air.
But more were coming.
I grinned.
Ares wanted a show? He's getting a show.
"Come on, you glorified toasters!" I roared, swinging Mjolnir-Lite like a baseball bat. "Let's see who breaks first!"
I fought my way through the mechanical horde, laughing as the adrenaline flooded my system. This was why I was here. Not for the prophecy. Not for the gods.
For the fight.