The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

13. Trip In An Eighteen-Wheeler

The war god was waiting for them in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," Percy said.

Ares gave them a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV," he told Y/N and Annabeth.

Y/N shoved his shield at him. "Hope you liked the show."

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back, which was readable only because it was reverse-printed white on black, a good combination for dyslexia: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

Y/N said, "You're kidding."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to Y/N.

Inside were fresh clothes for all of them, twenty bucks in cash, a pouch full of golden drachmas, and a bag of Double Stuf Oreos.

"We don't want your lousy—" Percy started to say.

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Ethan interrupted. "Thanks a lot."

Y/N thought it was probably a deadly insult to refuse something from a god.

He looked back at the diner, which had only a couple of customers now. The waitress who had served them dinner was watching nervously out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt them. She dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him. He nodded, held up a little disposable camera and snapped a picture of them.

Great, he thought. We'll make the papers again tomorrow.

With their luck, the headline would probably be something like: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD OUTLAWS BEAT UP DEFENSELESS BIKER.

"You owe me one more thing," Percy told Ares. "You promised me information about my mother."

"You sure you can handle the news?" Ares kick-started his motorcycle. "She's not dead."

Percy's eyes opened wider. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis. Not death. She's being kept."

"Kept. Why?" Percy asked.

"You need to study war, punk. Hostages. You take somebody to control somebody else."

"Nobody's controlling me," Percy said.

Ares laughed. "Oh yeah? See you around, kid."

Percy balled up his fists. "You're pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues."

Behind the sunglasses, fire glowed. Y/N felt hot wind in his hair. "We'll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you're in a fight, watch your back."

Ares revved his Harvey, then roared off down Delancy Street.

Annabeth said, "That was not smart, Percy."

"I don't care," Percy grumbled.

"You don't want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god," Grover told Percy.