The Demigod Files(3)

‘What are you doing to her?’ I demanded.

Clarisse backed up into the street, swinging her sword wildly.

‘Stop it!’ I told Phobos. I dug my sword a little deeper against his throat, but he simply vanished, reappearing back at the telephone pole.

‘Don’t get so excited, Jackson,’ Phobos said. ‘I’m just showing her what she fears.’

The glow faded from his eyes.

Clarisse collapsed, breathing hard. ‘You creep,’ she gasped. ‘I’ll… I’ll get you.’

Phobos turned towards me. ‘How about you, Percy Jackson? What do you fear? I’ll find out, you know. I always do.’

‘Give the chariot back.’ I tried to keep my voice even. ‘I took on your dad once. You don’t scare me.’

Phobos laughed. ‘Nothing to fear but fear itself. Isn’t that what they say? Well, let me tell you a little secret, half-blood. I am fear. If you want to find the chariot, come and get it. It’s across the water. You’ll find it where the little wild animals live – just the sort of place you belong.’

He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a cloud of yellow vapour.

Now, I’ve got to tell you, I’ve met a lot of godlings and monsters I didn’t like, but Phobos took the prize. I don’t like bullies. I’d never been in the ‘A’ crowd at school, so I’d spent most of my life standing up to punks who tried to frighten me and my friends. The way Phobos laughed at me and made Clarisse collapse just by looking at her… I wanted to teach this guy a lesson.

I helped Clarisse up. Her face was still beaded with sweat.

‘Now are you ready for help?’ I asked.

We took the subway, keeping a lookout for more attacks, but no one bothered us. As we rode, Clarisse told me about Phobos and Deimos.

‘They’re minor gods,’ she said. ‘Phobos is fear. Deimos is terror.’

‘What’s the difference?’

She frowned. ‘Deimos is bigger and uglier, I guess. He’s good at freaking out entire crowds. Phobos is more, like, personal. He can get inside your head.’

‘That’s where they get the word phobia?’

‘Yeah,’ she grumbled. ‘He’s so proud of that. All those phobias named after him. The jerk.’

‘So why don’t they want you driving the chariot?’

‘It’s usually a ritual just for Ares’s sons when they turn fifteen. I’m the first daughter to get a shot in a long time.’

‘Good for you.’

‘Tell that to Phobos and Deimos. They hate me. I’ve got to get the chariot back to the temple.’

‘Where is the temple?’

‘Pier 86. The Intrepid.’

‘Oh.’ It made sense, now that I thought about it. I’d never actually been on board the old aircraft carrier, but I knew they used it as some kind of military museum. It probably had a bunch of guns and bombs and other dangerous toys. Just the kind of place a war god would want to hang out.

‘We’ve got maybe four hours before sunset,’ I guessed. ‘That should be enough time if we can find the chariot.’

‘But what did Phobos mean, “over the water”? We’re on an island, for Zeus’s sake. That could be any direction!’

‘He said something about wild animals,’ I remembered. ‘Little wild animals.’

‘A zoo?’

I nodded. A zoo over the water could be the one in Brooklyn, or maybe… someplace harder to get to, with little wild animals. Someplace nobody would ever think to look for a war chariot.

‘Staten Island,’ I said. ‘They’ve got a small zoo.’

‘Maybe,’ Clarisse said. ‘That sounds like the kind of out-of-the-way place Phobos and Deimos would stash something. But if we’re wrong –’

‘We don’t have time to be wrong.’

We hopped off the train at Times Square and caught the Number 1 line downtown, towards the ferry terminal.

We boarded the Staten Island Ferry at three thirty, along with a bunch of tourists, who crowded the railings of the top deck, snapping pictures as we passed the Statue of Liberty.

‘He modelled that on his mom,’ I said, looking up at the statue.

Clarisse frowned at me. ‘Who?’

‘Bartholdi,’ I said. ‘The dude who made the Statue of Liberty. He was a son of Athena, and he designed it to look like his mom. That’s what Annabeth told me, anyway.’

Clarisse rolled her eyes. Annabeth was my best friend and a huge nut when it came to architecture and monuments. I guess her egghead facts rubbed off on me sometimes.

‘Useless,’ Clarisse said. ‘If it doesn’t help you fight, it’s useless information.’

I could’ve argued with her, but just then the ferry lurched like it had hit a rock. Tourists spilled forward, tumbling into each other. Clarisse and I ran to the front of the boat. The water below us started to boil. Then the head of a sea serpent erupted from the bay.

The monster was at least as big as the boat. It was grey and green with a head like a crocodile and razor-sharp teeth. It smelled… well, like something that had just come up from the bottom of New York Harbor. Riding on its neck was a bulky guy in black Greek armour. His face was covered with ugly scars, and he held a javelin in his hand.