008───────ஐ〰ฺ･:*:･✿the stone fist

     AT LEAST GERYON HAS A NORMAL HEAD.

     It could've been worse, much worse. Already, on this gods-forsaken quest, Lila's seen enough variations of multitudes of mix-matched limbs and body parts to last her a long lifetime. If she never sees a three-faced man, or a triple-headed dog again, she'll count her blessings and sacrifice to whoever is the god of weird body parts (she suspects that might be Pan) like a good, virtuous demigod. She'll cut her burgers and pizzas and cakes into two  halves that aren't really halves —  more a quarter and three quarters, and make sure to burn the larger portion for the gods. 

       So at least Geryon has a normal head. He could have two faces like Janus, fighting with each other for control of the body and the personality. Two entirely separate heads like Orthus, the budget-Cerberus who hasn't stopped his vicious growls since the moment they arrived, saliva dripping from his gums like a snake dripping venom. Geryon could've had a cows upper half, like some sort of mutant Minotaur, only worse and far, far more horrifying — just imagining it makes her wince. A hundred hands like Briares. At least he has a normal head — a human one. 

        However, he also has three chests. It's hard to explain — like explaining how an octopus has eight tentacles. Lila can't even comprehend it at first, her mind dislocating from her eyes like some sort of glitching retro television. From the head to the neck, it's all humanoid, nothing out of the ordinary — and then it splits off into three chests, each dressed in a different colour Hawaiian shirt; red, orange, green — like a traffic light, blaring and glowing aggressively. 

      He then has two normal arms (if you ignore the fact that he has two empty armpits) and two legs that join up all three chests. 

     Lila's mouth drops open, probably making her look like a gaping duck. She blinks, wondering if this is all some strange dream — she pinches herself, her blunt nails barely making a scratch. Still, nothing happens. Totally awake. What in Hades?

      Eurytion glares over at Percy, his gaze hotter than the scorching sun — and not in a good way; in a tired, exasperated way. Like he's tired of them already. "Say hello to Mr Geryon."

      "Hi," Percy says, completely unphased by the sight of a three-chested man. Is this completely normal for him? From the way he's turning up his nose, you'd think that he sees people like Geryon every week while walking around New York. Maybe he met another three-bodied man while taking the subway or something.

       Meanwhile, Lila is freaking out. Three chests? Why does he need three? Does he have three hearts, too? And six lungs? Can he hold his breath underwater for longer? Can he play the flute super well? 

      "Nice chests " — Percy blinks furiously, as if registering what he's just said out loud. — "ranch! Nice ranch you have here."

       Ah, so she's not the only person a little unnerved. Percy's just far better at hiding it. As if sensing her growing unease, he turns to grin, the corner of his lip turning up a bit. He even reaches for her hand — she grips his tightly, squeezing. Then he turns back to the ranch owner, all traces of his smile gone. 

       The three-chested man stares at the five campers, evidently trying to find something to say. His lips part in something similar to shock — but more controlled, a tight rein kept on all his emotions. Lila tries to force a smile onto her face, though she feels as though she's baring her teeth in a strange, awkward wolfish grin that will only creep Geryon out. But as long as she's not exuding the message: "hey! you have three chests and it's super freaky!", all should be well. 

         Before he can reply, the doors coming onto the porch are shoved open with a large bang!, hitting the walls and bouncing back. Lila winces at the large noise, cursing herself for being so jumpy — and then Nico di Angelo charges out, and all thoughts are forgotten. 

       He looks the same as she's always imagined him in her dreams (whenever she dreamt of him, which admittedly wasn't that often) or when she would picture their reunion: arms folded over his chest, an expression on his face that foretells murder. "Geryon, I can't wait for —  " 

       He breaks off the end of his sentence at the sight of the bedraggled group. He stares at them. Lila stares back. It feels a little anticlimactic; all the ways she's imagined she'd see Nico again, she always thought it'd be more of a teary reunion, sobbing and clutching at each other, dramatic music playing in the background. So relieved and excited to finally be together again that all thoughts of arguing and old grudges held would be forgotten. She certainly hadn't imagined a ranch. 

        They had been the best of friends for a short few weeks, while everyone had been on that quest. They had bonded over their worry for their family: Lila for Annabeth, Nico for Bianca.Only one of their loved ones had returned. And then Nico had disappeared, apparently to "join" Kronos, and Lila had died a little inside. All her flowers had wilted for at least a month. Willow had been horrified — kept cursing out Nico as if it were his fault. That blasted son of death, she had said. Where he goes, death follows. 

        That really makes a lot more sense now that Lila knew that Nico was the son of Hades. All the clues had been there, she had just struggled to connect the dots. She'd always been good at those join-the-dot puzzles when she was younger; apparently that hadn't translated into her detective skills. 

         Drawing his sword — a short blade that weighs down on his whole figure, the same shade of black as his hair — and points it at the group. He doesn't seem skilled with it; it's fumbling around in his hand, clumsy and uncomfortable. He almost drops it, surprised by the sudden weight. Lila briefly wonders where one would get a sword like that — deep, endless black, the type of black you could just fall into and drown in. It's the colour of Tartarus itself.

      She breaks the silence. "Nico?"

      He blinks back at her, tearing his eyes away from Percy with some effort. Something close to surprise falls across his face, as if he hadn't even noticed her, too entranced by the son of Poseidon. "Lila? What are you doing with — " 

       "Put that away, Mr di Angelo," Geryon orders, his facing contorting into a snarl. There's a darkness shimmering there, behind the facade of total tranquility he's exuding. Lila flinches slightly; it's the first time he's shown any hint of emotion beside detached interest and bemusement. "I ain't gonna have my guests killin' each other."

      Nico scowls at him, looking like the moody teenager he should be. He uses his sword to point toward Percy —  it sends a message, a slightly threatening one. "But that's — " 

       "Percy Jackson," Geryon agrees, nodding. "Annabeth Chase. Lila Bellerose. And a couple of their monster friends. Yes, I know." 

       "Monster friends?!"

       "That man is wearing three shirts," Tyson says, as if he has only just noticed. 

       "They let my sister die!" Nico yells, waving his sword. Despite how awkward he looked when just holding it, his swings are filled with power and violence, and Lila imagines a dark blade that sharp, wielded with such force — it could cut her in half. Still. compared to Percy, Nico looks like a child with a penknife. (That's how most people look compared to Percy.) "They're here to kill me!"

      His voice is filled with hate, harsher than the River Styx. Maybe they should start swearing by Nico instead of the River of Hate — he certainly seems to hold his grudges even longer than the Furies.

       Some part of her; some deeply hidden seed buried below mountains of guilt and valleys of false smiles, is hurt by that. She's spent the last six months worrying about him, agonising over this mystery he'd presented, crying over how much of a terrible friend she was being — and he hates them. Actually, worse than that, because he only seems to hate Percy. He just doesn't care about her, leaving Lila suspended above a cliff she thought he'd save her from. 

        She bites her lip. She's being selfish; Nico lost his sister, his entire life was uprooted and destroyed in barely a month, he lost his dearest sister, his family. Of course he's upset; he has every right to be. Meanwhile, what did she lose? The friendship of a kid she'd known three weeks? It's not his fault she forms attachments too quickly and took on all that responsibility onto herself. It's not his fault she feels at fault for his disappearance. "Nico, that wasn't Percy's fault — and we're not here to kill you, what in Hades are you talking about?" Okay, maybe invoking his father's name isn't her brightest idea but . . . where could he have gotten that idea? It's totally abstract.  

      "Don't defend him!" he spits out, gripping his sword even tighter. "You weren't there — "

      Lila flinches away, casting her eyes to the ground. He's right, as usual. Nico has always had an uncanny ability to speak uncomfortable truths that she'd rather avoid. She can't pretend she hasn't thought about it — if she'd snuck onto the quest, would Bianca be alive? What if she'd taken Bianca's place?  

      Stop it, her conscience reprimands. You'll only torture yourself. 

      Percy seems to agree with her conscience, frowning at Lila, who is retreating into herself glumly. He steps forward, almost to shield her from Nico's gaze. "Nico, we're not here to kill you." He raises his hands, as if to surrender —  if he had a white flag, he'd probably be waving it. "What happened to Biana was — "

      "Don't speak her name! You're not worthy even to talk about her!" 

      Annabeth, her tactically practical mind sharper than her knife, interrupts the rapidly ascending drama. "Wait a minute," she points at Geryon. "How do you know our names?"

      Lila blinks, the Mist clearing a little, as if she is a mortal being deceived by Geryon's tricks. Annabeth is right, as usual. They weren't introduced, Eurytion never got the chance. And unless Geryon is psychic (which she doubts)  then someone had to have told him about their quest. Gods, she's never been more grateful to have Annabeth near; the daughter of Athena has a knack for noticing those inconsequential details that are easily passed over, but very suspicious. 

       Geryon winks. Lila tries not to make too vehement an expression of disgust. "I make it my business to keep informed, darlin'. Everyone pops into the ranch from time to time. Everyone needs something from ole Geryon." Now he's referring to himself in the third person.  "Now, Mr di Angelo — put that sword away before I have Eurytion take it from you."

      Eurytion's face ripples with something like annoyance, and he heaves a heavy sigh, breath escaping his lips like water flowing through a broken dam. But he hefts his massive club over his shoulder, face hardening. It seems to say: I don't want to beat you up, but I don't care enough to stop myself. 

       Lila sizes him up, trying to work out if he's got any obvious weaknesses. Unfortunately, he's all strength: and immortal son of Ares with a huge club and a murderous double-headed dog.  They can't take him — especially not while Budget-Cerberus defends him.  

       Nico hesitates, doing some sort of calculation — working out whether he can win this. It's quite heartbreaking to think that he's learnt to do this so quickly. He could never size up his enemies while they were at camp, would never know what to look for. Just how many monsters has he had to fight?

        He sheathes his sword, signalling temporary truce. "If you come near me, Percy, I'll summon help. You don't want to meet my helpers, I promise."

       "I believe you." Percy doesn't look phased, despite the threats. 

       Geryon pats Nico's shoulder. "There, we've all made nice. Now come along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch."

     GERYON FORCES THEM INTO ONE OF HIS TROLLEYS — one of those miniature trains with four or so carriages, the ones that would tour you around zoos and theme parks. Painted in a cowhide pattern — black and white, covered in paint splatters that almost look as though the painter had made them accidentally, then tried to rectify them by pretending it was intentional. It even has a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, blaring out whenever it moves. 

      When Percy sees it, he makes a face like he would rather die a painful death in Tartarus than board it — the expression of pure disgust catching Lila's eye. Lila shrugs back, rolling her eyes at the truck. Then he grins, and Lila looks away, trying not to blush.

      Nico slouches into the back seat, glowering. He still hasn't spoken a word to Lila; maybe he considers her association with Percy an act of betrayal. 

     (She hates conflict.) 

       Eurytion slumps beside him, pulling his hat over his eyes, either to shield them from the scorching sunlight, or because he can't bear to face them any longer. Orthus jumps in beside Geryon, barking and slobbering all over the carriage. The two-headed dog looks happy for perhaps the first time since they arrived; Lila debates sliding in beside him to see if he'll let her pet him. Mrs O Leary did — why not Orthus?

       She decides against that when Orthus licks Geryon's face, covering his mouth in a thick layer of dog spit. She would never hear the end of that from Annabeth. 

       So Lila, Percy and Annabeth squeeze into the second car, Grover and Tyson behind (Tyson takes up so much space only two could fit onto that cart with him). Unfortunately, the carts are not designed for three, so Lila is squashed between the other two demigods, curling up as tightly to give the other two as much space as she can. And — well, while she's perfectly used to Annabeth's presence, she can't stop the slight blush at how close she and Percy are sitting — shoulders touching, legs stretched almost on top of each other. 

      Annabeth shifts herself so that she takes up more space, smirking. Lila kicks her. 

     "We have a huge operation!" Geryon brags, the moo-mobile lurching forward precariously. Annabeth almost falls out of the carriage. "Horses and cattle, mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too."

     When they drive over the next hill, Annabeth lets out a horrified gasp, clutching Lila's arm like it is about to fall off. "Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct?"

      Lila nudges Percy in the arm — why does his cheek look so red? — "Do you know what she's talking about?"

      He shakes his head, adjusting his arm so that it's slung over the back of her seat instead of squashed between. It's certainly more comfortable — Lila can't help her grin. It's quite nice to be so comfortable with him; days ago she'd have been a mess over this sort of thing. But they've spent the last few days living on top of each other, so they were bound to become more comfortable, really. "Some sort of horse-rooster."

      That's a pretty accurate description; they have the front half of a horse, the back half of a rooster like some sort of reverse-chicken-centaur. They're a little like ostriches — with tails of feathers, and dark red wings, the same shade as blood. When they run, they have a little hop in their step — which is, admittedly, rather cute. 

      "Rooster ponies," Tyson grins, leaning forward and hitting his head on the ceiling of the carriage. Lila winces in sympathy, but he barely notices. Cyclops skulls. "Do they lay eggs?"

     "Once a year," Geryon agrees. "Very much in demand for omelettes!"

      Lila wrinkles her nose, disgusted. How can he be selling omelettes when they're almost extinct? It's inhumane. But he's not human, the nagging voice at the back of her mind warns. Remember? Something dark and foreboding curls in the pit of her stomach like a snake around prey, squeezing and suffocating. 

      But everything looks fine; Nico seems appropriately moody, the other four are more outraged at Geryon's treatment of his animals, not worried at all. Maybe she's overthinking — maybe she's projecting her anger at the cruel animal treatment onto him. That must be it. 

      "Now, over here," Geryon says, waving his hand towards the nearest field. His lip quirks up into a grin, his mustache contorting. Maybe it's the mustache; he sure does look like an evil businessman with a mustache like that.  "We have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on the way in. They're bred for war, actually."

      Percy tenses, arm curling around Lila. "Which war?"

      Geryon smiles coyly, waving his hand. "Oh, whichever one comes along. And over yonder, of course, are our prized red cows."

     Over the hills, hundreds of bright red cattle are chewing at the grass. Personally, Lila can't see what makes them so special from any other cows— yes, they're red — but what about that is important? She doubts it affects how they taste; just a useless trend, really (Hopefully, gods can't read minds, or Apollo will be blasting her again for disrespect.) 

     "So many," Grover comments, sceptically eyeing the cows. Lila agrees; there weren't this many cows in the original myth, were there? Not that she knows.

      "Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see them," Geryon explains, a small, prideful grin on his face. "So he subcontracts them to us. We breed them vigourously because there's such a demand."

      "For what?"

       Lila thought it was a reasonable question to ask, but Geryon raises an eyebrow as if Percy is the most stupid demigod alive. "Meat, of course. Armies have to eat."

      Grover gasps in outrage, clenching his fist. Tyson edges away, as if expecting the satyr to lash out and attack. Lila really doesn't understand that — how can a six-foot tall cyclops be afraid of a satyr, especially one like Grover? A harmless one who chews on his shirt when anxious and snacks on aluminium cans. "You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat? That's against the ancient laws."

     Geryon waves a hand impetuously. He's so patronising — every-time he smiles or speaks, it's as if he thinks he is speaking to a bunch of eight year olds on a field trip with their school. Maybe that's how it feels to be thousands of years old. "Oh, don't get so worked up, satyr. They're just animals."

     "Just animals!"

     "Yes," Geryon nods. "And I'm sure if Apollo cared, he would tell us."

      "If he knew," Percy corrects. 

      Nico sits forward, clutching the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment's notice. Lila meets his haunted eyes, framed by eerie shadows. He hasn't been sleeping, he hasn't been eating, he's barely been living. He's a walking skeleton; half-dead already, a literal sack of blood and bones. "I don't care about any of this, Geryon. We had business to discuss, and this wasn't it!"

       "All in good time, Mr di Angelo," Geryon says airily, not at all threatened by the Hades son glaring at him. "Look over here; some of my exotic game."

      The next field is framed by bars of barbed wire that spark as though they could be electric, or just melting in the heat of the morning sun. Enclosed are about forty giant scorpions, pincers and all. Lila shivers, remembering her earlier encounter with them at camp. She'll never forget the sight of the scorpion bearing down on her, ready to skewer her. And the sunflower it became; a trick she's sure she'll never replicate. 

      "Triple G Ranch," Percy blinks, peering at Geryon sharply. "Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you." How does he remember that? Lila barely remembers what she did an hour ago (— walking). He's much cleverer than people give him credit for. Maybe clever isn't the right word —  Annabeth is clever, and she's all facts and knowledge and steady logic, while Percy's intelligence is a little like the sea he was born from; inconstant, unpredictable. He only seems to remember relevant information, things that are useful in future fights. Maybe that's how he's survived so long. 

      "Quintus. . . " Geryon muses thoughtfully, scratching his chin like an animated Disney villain. "Short grey hair, muscular, swordsman?"

     "Yeah."

     "Never heard of him."

     Lila wrinkles her nose at the ranch owner, disgusted at his audacity. What an obvious lie. Before she can say anything, her attention is caught by — dear Zeus, what is that smell? It's repugnant, like manure and vomit and festered, rotten wounds and vegetables and dying plants, all mixed into one. She tries to inhale through her mouth instead, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the smell; it's too late. She's already smelled it — the scent is ingrained into her mind now. 

     She leans over Percy's arm, checking out the window of the carriage. "What in Hades is that?" 

      Near the banks of the river lies a stables. Around the stables, tons and tons and tons of horse poop, piled upon each other, mountains of it, valleys. The place itself could be a mountain range of just manure. The horses are wading around in it, their tails and manes thick with the sludge. 

     "My stables!" Geryon explains, folding his arms over his three chests in a defensive manner (except he can't really reach across his chests, so they hang unnaturally over the left and right.) "Well, actually, they belong to Aegas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren't they lovely?"

      Lovely is not how Lila would describe it. 

      "They're disgusting!" Annabeth describes, accurately. 

      "Lots of poop," Tyson observes.

      "How can you keep animals like that?"

       Nico gags, meeting Lila's eyes — something hangs in the air between them, something from months ago when everything was okay.  They're friends again — in tune to each other's respective melodies, accepting of all their flaws — and then the shadow falls over his face and he scowls, looking away.

      "Y'all getting on my nerves," Geryon decides, clenching his jaw. "These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions."

      "Plus, you're too cheap to have them cleaned," Eurytion mumbles under his breath. 

      "Nothing could like these conditions," Lila mutters to Percy, who nods in agreement. 

      "Quiet!" Geryon snaps, glaring at them. Especially Eurytion, seemingly considering disagreement betrayal. Connor Stoll would always make that face when he was losing at Capture the Flag (and then he would blame everybody else on his team, naming them traitors.) "Alright, maybe the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way."

       "Maybe if you'd cleaned them earlier they wouldn't be so challenging to clean," Lila suggests. It feels a bit hypocritical, counselling against procrastination when that's all she does when Annabeth and Silena aren't dragging her to do chores. "Have you thought about that?"

      "Of course I have! But so what? My clients still pay me well."

     Percy tenses, probably thinking of Luke and Kronos and the army. Fighting against poop covered man-eating horses reinforcing the Titan enemy lines does not sound like a good way to ensure victory. "What clients?"

      "Oh, you'd be surprised how many people would pay for a flesh-eating horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies — " Lila agrees with that point there, " — great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time."

      Annabeth reaches for her dagger, a cold expression falling over her eyes. They're like storm clouds — endlessly dark and grey, shimmering with thunder and flickering with lightning that electrocutes anyone who gets too close. Zeus is definitely her grandfather. "You're a monster."

      Geryon stops the moo-mobile and turns to look at her, a mock-thoughtful expression on his face. "What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?"

      "Yes," Lila tells him. 

      "And the clients you keep talking about," Annabeth continues, displaying her knack for staying decidedly on topic (even when Lila gets sidetracked). "You work for Kronos, don't you? You're supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need." 

      Geryon shrugs, three shoulders moving up like he's trying to do a wave, alone. It's psychedelic — Lila briefly wonders whether she's consumed any alcohol recently, and this is all some terrible hallucination. "I work for anyone with gold, you lady. I'm a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer."

       He climbs out of the moo-mobile, three-chests barely squeezing through the door. Taking a deep breath (somehow not gagging at the stench; maybe he's gotten accustomed to it) he strolls toward the stables leisurely. 

      Nico hums to himself, in that way Lila recognises he always does before he's about to lose his temper, or at least is losing his grip on it. She tenses, turning to Percy in warning, about to tell him that Nico's  going to do something stupid — and then the carriage door swings open with a resounding bang! His fist wrapping around the pommel of his sword, Nico storms over to Geryon, face rippling like death personified. Eurytion hefts his club to follow him, foreseeing immediate danger for his master. Lila tenses, reaching for her spear, ready to defend Nico. She's not sure what a spear would do in such close quarters, or what she plans to do with it —  but Geryon is not hurting Nico.  

      "I came here for business, Geryon," Nico snarls. "And you haven't answered me."

      "Hm," Geryon examines a cactus, pricking his finger on one of the spikes. Does he bleed, or is it just monster-dust sprinkling out? Lila can't see; she's too far away. "Yes, you'll get a deal alright."

       "My ghost — " Nico has a ghost? "— said you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need."

      Percy leans forward. "Hang on, I thought I was the soul you needed."

     Nico wrinkles his nose, recoiling as if the very idea is abhorrent. "You? Why would I want you? Bianca's soul is worth a thousand of yours." That was harsh — Lila opens her mouth to defend Percy, but Nico is already turning around back to Geryon without a second thought. "Now, Geryon, can you help me or not?"

      "Oh, I imagine I could," Geryon says calmly, the corner of his lip twitching — something isn't right. Lila feels that chill travelling up her neck again. "Your ghost friend, by the way, where is he?"

     Nico shifts from foot to foot. "He can't form in broad daylight. It's hard for him. But he's around here somewhere."

     Geryon smiles, though there's not much behind it except malice and something sinister. "Oh, I bet. Minos likes to disappear when things get . . . difficult."

     "Minos?" Lila's heard that name before — she wracks her brain trying to remember from all those lessons that seem to blend into one, from Silena and Annabeth's lecturing. "Didn't he feed people to the Minotaur? That evil king of Crete?"

      Percy looks horrified. "That's the kings who's been giving you advice?"

      Nico huffs, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. Lila can't help but think that he looks guilty — not quite daring to meet her eyes. But he's desperate, so desperate just to see his sister. Lila can't be angry — she's not sure what she'd do, if anything ever happened to Silena or Annabeth. but it certainly wouldn't be good. "It's none of your business, Percy! And what do you mean about things getting difficult?" He peers at Geryon, suspicion shimmering behind his onyx eyes. 

      Geryon sighs. "Well, you see, Nico — can I call you Nico?"

     "No."

     "You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for half-bloods. And I'm sure when he learns your little secret; who you really are, he'll pay very, very well indeed."

      Nico draws his sword; Eurytion knocks it out of his hand. Lila reaches for her spear, pulling it out of her hair. Before she can flick it into it's spear form, Orthus growls, pouncing onto Percy's chest. 

      "I would stay in the car, all of you," Geryon advises, a nefarious smile on his face. "Or Orthus will tear Mr Jackson's throat out. Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure Nico." His tone is clearly not a request. 

     "Do I have to?"

     "Yes!"

      Eurytion wrinkles his nose, as if there is nothing he would like to do less, but he wraps an arm around Nico, hoisting him into the air like he weighs nothing.

      "Pick up the sword too. There's nothing I hate worse than Stygian iron." Eurytion does as he's told without a complaint. Lila's mind scrambles for a solution —  what can she do? If she makes a move, Percy's throat is torn out. If she doesn't, Nico is handed over to Luke, and that would have catastrophic results on them all. 

      "You fiend!" Annabeth cries. 

     Lila snaps out of her panic session to raise an eyebrow at her. Fiend, really? Annabeth couldn't think of a more modern word, with all her extensive vocabulary? They aren't really Ancient Greeks. 

     Annabeth sees her looking, and rolls her eyes. 

      Geryon smiles. "Don't you 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 asks, grey eyes wary. "What do you mean?"

      "Never you mind, darlin'." At his words, Lila tries not to gag. "Let's be off, shall we?"

      "Wait!" Percy says calmly, voice ringing through the air. Lila jumps slightly; Orthus snarls, but doesn't move, waiting for the order from Eurytion. "Geryon, you said you're a businessman. Make me a deal."

      Lila raises an eyebrow at Percy, wondering what his play is here. But he looks totally calm — perhaps a little angry, but it's all restrained, his tone forcibly polite. 

      Geryon narrows 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 suggests. Lila peers at him, unable to work out whether the suggestion was a joke or just an innocent comment that he meant nothing by. It feels like a joke. 

      "I'll do it!" Percy exclaims, looking slightly excited. He must have a plan, Lila reasons. He wouldn't be doing all this if he didn't have a plan. He wouldn't be looking so excited to clean those horrific stables if he didn't have a plan. "If I fail, you get all of us. Trade us all to Luke for gold."

      "Assuming the horses don't eat you."

      Lila winces, envisioning those poo-covered monsters gnawing on Percy's bones. There's an image she'd like to forget. 

      "Either way, you get my friends, but if I succeed, you have to let us all go, including Nico."

      "No!" Nico screams, sounding more horrified at the prospect of accepting Percy's help than being delivered to the titan army. "Don't do me any favours, Percy! I don't want your help!"

      Lila glares at him. "Nico, shut up!"

      "Don't tell me what to do!"

      Geryon ignores them both, like they are inconsequential bickering children. "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."

      Percy smiles at him. Lila is almost alarmed at how persuasive it is. "So what have you got to lose?"

      Geryon finally caves. "Alright, I accept your offer. Except, you have to get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich."

     That sounds impossible. 

      "Deal."

       Annabeth meets Lila's eyes, not looking afraid at all. That comforts Lila; if Annabeth thinks the odds are in Percy's favour, then they really must be.

      WHEN THE SUN BEGINS TO SET, NICO BEGINS TO COMPLAIN. His internal clock must be working wonders; he's perfectly tuned to the elements.

      Quietly, so that Geryon won't hear him — the ranch owner is currently cooking a barbecue. Lila isn't sure what's more worrying; where the meat came from, or who he's cooking for. (It sure isn't them.) Nico's grumbling mostly comes in the form of whispers and glares — and they are all delivered to Lila, who had the great luck to be tied up beside him. 

      "This is Percy's fault," he whispers. If his hands weren't tied together, Lila imagines he'd be waving them around; as he usually does when he gets angry. "I had it all under control."

       "Sure," Lila whispers back, trying to sound angry, and failing. "If your idea of control is being dead, or worse; working for Luke."

       "I had a plan!" he protests. "If we all die, it's his fault, not mine— " 

       "No, it's not!" Lila snaps, losing her patience. "Your plan was terrible — actually, I don't even think you had a plan — Percy is currently saving your life, and you should stop badmouthing him. We've all been so worried about you, he was so worried, I — " her voice cracks, she looks down, struggling to meet his eyes. "I searched for you."

      He has the nerve to look guilty, refusing to meet her eyes. "Yeah, about that . . . " 

     There'll be no apology, Lila knows. She doesn't think she's ever heard the words from his mouth. It's okay, though. That doesn't make him less apologetic, and he is sorry , she can see it in his eyes. Sometimes the words left unspoken are the most honest. Better unspoken truth than lies.  

     He sighs eventually. "I needed to save my sister."

     "Nico," Lila says, flushing under the intensity of his gaze. Nico has eyes that are so deep and dark and endless, they feel as though they are pierced your soul and spirit every time he looks on you. It's part of what makes him so unnerving; there's nothing worse than a moody teenager who looks at you like he can see everything, and rarely smiles. "Are you sure it's a good idea?"

      He tries to fold his arms over his chest, then remembers that his arms are tied up by his side, so settles for glowering. "Which part? Raising Bianca from the dead or summoning her spirit? You don't seem very enthused about either."

      "Because it's all a terrible idea!" she hisses, rubbing her eyes. She takes a deep breath. "You can't bring someone back from the dead, it goes against all the laws of nature." Sometimes harsh truths are better than kind lies. 

      Nico laughs hollowly, not sounding particularly alive at all. "I'm the son of Hades. If anyone can do it, I can."

      "I'm not saying that you're not capable," she implores, begging him to just listen. But Nico has always been unreachable; when he decides on a goal, nothing will distract or delay him from it. He's just on another level, somewhere between the living and the dead, where nobody else can venture. "I'm saying that you shouldn't try. Come back to Camp Half-Blood with us. You can learn to control your powers. Chiron knows about you now, anyway. He can train you, look after you."

       "And where would I stay?" he snarls back, absolute in his denial. "There's no cabin to Hades. I'm not like you, I'm not content with spending my life in the Hermes cabin and waiting for someone to save me. I don't belong there."

      "Yes, you do," Lila insists. "I can help you — "

      "Help me do what?" he demands. She stares back at him, scrambling for something to say, but her mind is completely blank. "You don't know what I need — nobody does. I need to do this alone."

       Maybe he's right. There is no cabin to Hades, nor any throne. Nobody understands Nico, nobody knows exactly what Nico needs or Nico wants. Maybe she's supposed to trust him here. But what if he gets killed because she let him go? What if he gets captured by Kronos because she didn't drag him back to Camp Half-Blood?

     Gods, when will she stop worrying about what could happen, and start thinking about what is happening? Maybe that's her fatal flaw; overthinking.

      She stares back at him. "You . . . you think so?

     "Yeah," he says calmly, displaying no hint of deliberation. "Trust me."

      "Okay," Lila agrees quietly. "I missed you, you know."

      "Yeah, me too."

      "Never again. Next time, we'll keep in contact, yeah? And stop insulting Percy. And at least consider coming back to camp — " 

       "Styx, if I'd known your forgiveness came with this many conditions, I might not have asked," he mutters, though he's grinning. 

       Lila smiles back, nudging his shoulder with hers — that's the limit of her movement. "I guess I missed you a little bit, di Angelo."

       "Just a little." He elbows her back. 

       Grover coughs from behind them; they are all piled on top of each other, and it just so happens that he got the worst deal. Tyson is lying right on top of him. At least Lila and Nico are somewhat separate, in their own little heap. "I hate to interrupt this . . . reunion, but Percy's back?"

       "What? Where?" 

      "Let them go!" There's a large outcry from the door, Percy's voice echoing through the air. Lila jumps out of her skin again; both Nico and Annabeth snicker. Great. Now there are two of them. 

      Percy storms into the house, somehow not covered in horse poo (Lila's not complaining, though — she much prefers him completely poo-less) and breathes heavily. "Let them go!" He's panting slightly from running up the steps — did he run all the way here? Maybe he thought Geryon was cooking them on the barbecue. "I cleaned the stables!"

      Lila kicks Nico, vindicated. "See? I told you he'd do it."

      If Geryon hears, he leaves no indication. Turning to Percy, his vulgar aprons with the words KISS - THE - CHEF in plain sight, he flips another burger. He exudes an air of nonchalance — too calm for someone losing all that money. Another dark feeling blooms in the pit of Lila's stomach. 

       She shoves the thought away; she's nervous and jumpy, that's all. Her instincts are playing tricks on her. What would she know of monsters?

      "Let my friends go," Percy says. "We had a deal."

      Geryon nods, and flips another burger. Lila's so hungry — if they're going to die, Geryon had better feed them first. "Ah, you see, I've been thinking about that." Geryon waves his spatula around to emphasise his point, and a burger flops onto the floor as if trying to run away. "If I let them go, I don't get paid."

      "You promised!"

      Geryon tsks. "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."

      "Fiend," Lila mutters. Annabeth kicks her. 

      Percy's face hardens. He seems to size Geryon up, working out the odds of how he could win this fight. Lila feels a bit bad for him — he went to all the trouble cleaning the stables for no reason; that can't feel good. 

       "See?" Nico mocks, nudging her leg. "Percy does not have it under control."

       "Okay, this is not the time." Lila hisses back. "I'm sure he has a plan — "

       Percy reaches into his pocket and pulls out Riptide, pulling off the cap as it transforms into a Celestial Bronze sword. Lila sizes up the scene before her; Percy is outnumbered three to one, but Geryon won't move, just allowing Eurytion to do all the fighting for him. Percy could pick them off one by one, with a bit of luck. Better yet, they could somehow get free and help him —  but how? 

      "Eurytion," Geryon says. "The boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him."

      Eurytion sighs heavily, looking towards Percy, and then back to the pile of demigods behind him. Eventually, after heavy deliberation, he decides it's not worth it. "Kill him yourself."

      "Excuse me?" Geryon looks personally affronted. 

      "You heard me," the cowherd grumbles, settling into his seat as if he's about to watch a fascinating show. "You keep sending me out to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no good reason, and I'm tired of dying for you. You want to fight the kid, do it yourself."

      Geryon throws the spatula down onto the table, so hard that Lila is surprised it doesn't fly straight through and cleave a hole through the floor straight into Tartarus. The ranch owner scowls, "You dare defy me? I should fire you right now."

      "And who'd take care of your cattle? Orthus, heel."

      Orthus immediately stops growling at their heap and runs to his master, laying at Eurytion's feet and panting happily. He's a rather cute double-dog when he's not trying to tear their throats out. 

      "Fine!" Geryon snarls. "I'll deal with you later, after the boy is dead"

      He reaches for two carving knives, throwing them both at Percy. Lila hopes that his aim isn't true — thankfully, Percy manages to deflect one with his sword, and the other sticks into the table beside Eurytion, who doesn't even flinch. 

      Percy steps forward, spinning his sword expertly. It almost seems to become one with his hand, just an extension of his arm. Geryon parries with the tongs, still glowing dark red from the heat, but Percy steps closer and stabs him in the middle chest.

      Geryon screams in pain, dropping to his knees in anguish. Lila waits for him to disintegrate — he's a monster, after all — but he just grimaces, pushing himself back onto his feet. The wound is already starting to heal, knitting back together, closing up. "Nice try, sonny. But I have three hearts. The perfect backup system."

      Lila blinks. "Like an octopus?" They have more than one heart, don't they? Annabeth has mentioned it before, somewhere. 

       Annabeth shoots Lila a glare with barely veiled amusement, shaking her head. Maybe her facts are incorrect again. Nico just looks confused. 

      Geryon shoves over the barbecue, spilling red hot coals everywhere. One lands so close to Lila she can feel the searing heat over her face, close enough to singe her eyebrows. She tries not to move. 

       Percy narrows his eyes and lunges forward again, impaling Geryon in the right chest, and then the left. Each time, the monster just laughs, grimacing, before getting back onto his feet. How do you kill something that won't die?

       They're in such trouble; Percy is going to die fighting a three-chested ranch owner, and then they are going to be sold to Luke and the titan army — Nico will be forced to destroy Olympus. 

       Lila grits her teeth, trying to think. She can't let any of those things happen — and she tried to escape futilely before, but now . . . Eurytion doesn't seem to care whatever they do. Orthus won't stop her. Percy sprints toward the house, hopefully with a new plan. 

       "Coward!" Geryon yells. "Come back and die right!"

        Percy ignores him, choosing not to die. 

        Lila closes her eyes, concentrating on that constant tugging in her gut she always ignores, focusing, zeroing in onto it. Plants are everywhere; they're part of life. Willow always used to say that without the plants and the earth, there is no life. There must be something — she searches again, and . . . there. About two feet to the left. 

       Pretend this is one of your plants. Okay. It's just a flower, it's under her domain. It should obey her, do as she commands it. Grow, she urges, that tugging in her gut growing. The plant refuses. Grow, she urges it again. I order you. Her command is filled with awkward uncertainty, but it works. 

       She feels it; a twisting, growing, wild vine, bending to her will. It's like her mind is Chaos, before the formation of the world, and that plant is the first thing to be born. And she is the goddess, the one in control for once. Lila's always felt like such a mortal. For once, the power coursing through her veins feels godly. 

      She asks it to edge closer, she pulls it, orders it. Tyson lets out a soft cry of surprise. 

     Opening her eyes at the noise, she finds a vine growing right beside her head, twisting in and out of rocks as if it has been growing there for years. 

      "That's great," Nico agrees. "But how will that help us?"

      Lila narrows her eyes at the vine, willing it to twist around the ropes tying her up like an earthly bracelet. And it does so, wrapping around, tighter and tighter, even tighter, until it's clasping onto the ropes so tightly her own skin hisses in sympathy. More, she commands. 

      "It won't work," Annabeth warns. "Not strong enough. Even Tyson couldn't break these ropes. I don't know why, they must be magic."

       Eurytion nods; he's been watching all this go down with interest. "Afraid she's right, girlie. There's no use."

       Lila ignores them. She has to at least try — and there's no harm in that, at least. This is her chance to be helpful, to prove to everybody she's not the weak link of the group, not the girl hopelessly out of her depth, drowning in chaos. 

      So she commands the vine to go back to where it originated, without releasing it's hold on the ropes. Ideally, the force would untie the knots Eurytion made — though that would have to be a lot of force. And apparently Annabeth calculated correctly, because nothing happens. 

      She glares at the vine. Why won't it move? She's using all her power — all her strength. Maybe she's not as strong as she thought. 

      "So cool," Tyson comments, watching this all go down. Lila blinks at him, not quite comprehending how her failure can be cool. 

      But he must believe in her, so she tries again. 

      Clenching her fists, digging her nails in, half-moons scarring onto her palms. The tug in her stomach growing and growing until it is all consuming, the only thing on her mind, twisting and pulling, pushing the boundaries of science to her will. There's chaos and darkness and emptiness, and, somewhere hidden within, the sliver of vine. And in her mind, where there's only vines, the laws of gravity and earth and science seem to shatter.

       She commands it to try again, this time with all her strength. There's a tugging in her gut, but Lila doesn't feel any of the exhaustion Percy says he feels when he uses his powers. There's electricity, sparking in her blood, magic in her veins, a buzzing in her head like a bee she can't swat away. She bites down onto her lower lip, and suddenly her tongue tastes rust and salt and blood, and then —

      And then there is a snap. 

       The rope breaks in half, the threads loose and frayed. 

       Eurytion's mouth drops. "Impossible."

      She pushes herself to her feet, brimming with elation. She can't believe that actually worked; she was finally successful at breaking Annabeth's logic. Not such a failure after all. Drawing Annabeth's knife, she prepares to work on the other ropes. 

       And that's when Lila notices that the vine isn't the only thing that moved. Around the roots of the plants, the earth has risen to hold onto it in the shape of a stone-hard dirt hand. 

a/n: this chapter reached 8000 words I AM SO SORRY the next one is shorter ! i cut out a couple of scenes but had to mix some together, which is why it just got longer, and longer. nothing else should be this long, though. 

QOTD: Any good book recommendations? Fanfiction or novel?

THE SONG OF ACHILLES . i loved it, i plan to reread it soon. 

( i'm going back to school in 2w, so updates might need to slow down. sorry ) 

i'm also writing a kaz brekker fic ! i'm so excited !! i have an oc and a plot and it's going to be fun dhjjjh

lyra x 

( thank you for 7k reads )