The Path Of Glory (Annabeth Chase x Male Reader)

67. What You Need To Wake Up The Dead

A/N: Hey! Quick note to tell you there's a new cover for the story. Credits and all on the cover. Say what you think about it here :)
Without further ado, you're here for the chapter and here it is. Enjoy!

It didn't take long for Annabeth to get that it wouldn't be as easy as waiting for Percy while sipping orange juice.

No sooner had the moo-mobile reached the top of the hill that Geryon turned to Eurytion. He nodded, and before Annabeth, Ethan, Grover, Tyson, or even Nico could do anything, they had the spiky club of the cowherd pointed at their heads and Orthus the two-headed dog snarling at them.

"What are you doing?" Nico said.

He reached for his sword at his waist, but it was still in Eurytion's other hand. "Geryon, you said you'd let us go as soon as Percy cleaned out your stable."

"Because you think he'll manage it?" Geryon said wryly. "No one's been able to do it for a thousand years, so a kid certainly won't. Which leaves you totally at my disposal."

"You have no right!" Grover cried. You made a deal, you promised!"

Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. "Did I swear on the River Styx? No, I didn't. So it's not binding. When you're conducting business, sonny, you should always get a binding oath."

One of Orthus's heads leaned down next to Grover's ear and bared its fangs.

"Good," Geryon said. "Now, behave yourself. I'll be right back."

He got out of the moo-mobile and went inside the house. Meanwhile, with a nod of his head, Eurytion led them out. Annabeth looked at him from head to toe. With the five of them, especially with Tyson, maybe they could beat him. . . .

But before she could whisper a word to the others, Geryon came back outside. He had rags and five long ropes in his hands. Just enough to gag and tie them up like rodeo animals, fists and feet together.

"So, who wants to start?" he asked.

It didn't take Geryon long to tie them up. Annabeth and the others could do nothing against him, Eurytion, and Orthus.

Geryon brought a lot of stuff out of the house. In no time the deck was set up for a party. Streamers and balloons decorated the railing. He was flipping burgers on a huge barbecue cooker made from an oil drum. He wore an apron on each chest, with one word on each, so together they spelled out: KISS—THE—CHEF. Eurytion lounged at a picnic table, picking his fingernails with a knife. The two-headed dog sniffed the ribs and burgers that were frying on the grill.

Annabeth twisted around, trying to catch her bronze knife hidden in her sock. If she could manage to pick it, maybe she could free the others and stab Geryon before he knew it. Eurytion didn't seem to care much whether they were prisoners or not, and he was the one in control of Orthus.

Ethan managed to get his mouth out of his gag. "Let us go!"

Geryon turned to him. "Why should I? Who's going to come to your help? Percy Jackson? If he hasn't been eaten by my horses yet, he's run away."

"Because I want to stick my spear in your guts," Ethan retorted.

Geryon sighed. "Youngsters, these days. . . . Eurytion, the satyr is starting to annoy me. Kill him."

Eurytion studied Ethan. Nobody paid attention to Annabeth; she twisted a little more and grabbed the handle of her knife. She began cutting her ties.

"Kill him yourself," Eurytion said at last.