Bewitched || P. Jackson

𝔻on't play with knives, kids

When the Minotaur saw Percy, his eyes burned with hate. He bellowed—a sound that was somewhere between a yell, a moo, and a really loud belch.

"Hey, Beef Boy," Percy shouted back. "Didn't I kill you already?"

He pounded his fist into the hood of a Lexus, and it crumpled like aluminum foil.

A few dracaenae threw flaming javelins at him. Percy knocked them aside. A hellhound lunged, and he sidestepped. He could have stabbed it, but he hesitated.

Nicki bit her lip. Her fingers buzzed with magic as she geared up to take the hellhound out herself.

It pounced again. This time Percy brought Riptide up in a deadly arc. The hellhound disintegrated into dust and fur.

More monsters surged forward—snakes and giants and telkhines—but the Minotaur roared at them, and they backed off

"One on one?" Percy called. "Just like old times?"

The Minotaur's nostrils quivered. He seriously needed to keep a pack of Aloe Vera Kleenex in his armor pocket, because that nose was wet and red and pretty gross. He unstrapped his axe and swung it around.

It was beautiful in a harsh I'm-going-to-gut-you-like-a-fish kind of way. Each of its twin blades was shaped like an omega: Ω—the last letter of the Greek alphabet. Maybe that was because the axe would be the last thing his victims ever saw. The shaft was about the same height as the Minotaur, bronze wrapped in leather. Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces.

Nicki squinted. She realized they were Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods.

Percy seemed to realise what the beads were at the same time as Nicki. He raised his sword. The monster army cheered for the Minotaur, but the sound died when Percy dodged his first swing and sliced his axe in half, right between the handholds.

A handful of monsters tried to surge forward, to knock Percy off his game. Nicki flicked her wrist and the advancing monsters were easily tossed into the water below.

"Moo?" The Minotaur grunted.

"HAAA!" Percy spun and kicked him in the snout. He staggered backward, trying to regain his footing, then lowered his head to charge.

He never got the chance. Percy's sword flashed—slicing off one horn, then the other. He tried to grab Percy. Percy rolled away, picking up half of his broken axe. The other monsters backed up in stunned silence, making a circle around the two.

The Minotaur bellowed in rage. He was never very smart to begin with, but now his anger made him reckless. He charged Percy, and Percy for the edge of the bridge, breaking through a line of dracaenae.

The dracaenae were helped back by a shimmering wall of purple mist. They pounded against it, but Nicki's magic only strengthened.

The Minotaur must've smelled victory. He thought Percy was trying to get away. His minions cheered. At the edge of the bridge, Percy turned and braced the axe against the railing to receive his charge. The Minotaur didn't even slow down.

CRUNCH

He looked down in surprise at the axe handle sprouting from his breastplate. "Thanks for playing," Percy told him.

Percy lifted him by his legs and tossed him over the side of the bridge. Even as he fell, he was disintegrating, turning back into dust, his essence returning to Tartarus.

Percy turned toward his army. It was now roughly one hundred and ninety-nine to one. So he did the natural thing. He charged them.

Percy sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to shadow. He slashed and stabbed and whirled, and he might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh that scared Nicki as much as it did their enemies.