The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(88)

“Hello,” he said sadly. “Come to kill me, I suppose.”

Jason put his shoes back on and stood slowly. “Um, well—”

“No!” Piper intervened. “I’m sorry. This is embarrassing. We didn’t want to bother you, but Hercules sent us.”

“Hercules!” The bull-man sighed. His hooves pawed the water as if ready to charge. “To me, he’ll always be Heracles. That’s his Greek name, you know: the glory of Hera.”

“Funny name,” Jason said. “Since he hates her.”

“Indeed,” the bull-man said. “Perhaps that’s why he didn’t protest when the Romans renamed him Hercules. Of course, that’s the name most people know him by…his brand, if you will. Hercules is nothing if not image-conscious.”

The bull-man spoke with bitterness but familiarity, as if Hercules was an old friend who had lost his way.

“You’re Achelous?” Piper asked.

The bull-man bent his front legs and lowered his head in a bow, which Piper found both sweet and a little sad. “At your service. River god extraordinaire. Once the spirit of the mightiest river in Greece. Now sentenced to dwell here, on the opposite side of the island from my old enemy. Oh, the gods are cruel! But whether they put us so close together to punish me or Hercules, I have never been sure.”

Piper wasn’t sure what he meant, but the background noise of the river was invading her mind again—reminding her how hot and thirsty she felt, how pleasant a nice swim would be. She tried to focus.

“I’m Piper,” she said. “This is Jason. We don’t want to fight. It’s just that Heracles—Hercules—whoever he is, got mad at us and sent us here.”

She explained about their quest to the ancient lands to stop the giants from waking Gaea. She described how their team of Greeks and Romans had come together, and how Hercules had thrown a temper tantrum when he found out Hera was behind it.

Achelous kept tipping his head to the left, so Piper wasn’t sure if he was dozing off or dealing with one-horn fatigue.

When she was done, Achelous regarded her as if she were developing a regrettable skin rash. “Ah, my dear…the legends are true, you know. The spirits, the water cannibals.”

Piper had to fight back a whimper. She hadn’t told Achelous anything about that. “H-how—?”

“River gods know many things,” he said. “Alas, you are focusing on the wrong story. If you had made it to Rome, the story of the flood would have served you better.”

“Piper?” Jason asked. “What’s he talking about?”

Her thoughts were suddenly as jumbled as kaleidoscope glass. The story of the flood…If you had made it to Rome.

“I—I’m not sure,” she said, though the mention of a flood story rang a distant bell. “Achelous, I don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t,” the river god sympathized. “Poor thing. Another girl stuck with a son of Zeus.”

“Wait a minute,” Jason said. “It’s Jupiter, actually. And how does that make her a poor thing?”

Achelous ignored him. “My girl, do you know the cause of my fight with Hercules?”

“It was over a woman,” Piper recalled. “Deianira?”

“Yes.” Achelous heaved a sigh. “And do you know what happened to her?”

“Uh…” Piper glanced at Jason.

He took out his guidebook and began flipping through pages. “It doesn’t really—”

Achelous snorted indignantly. “What is that?”

Jason blinked. “Just…The Hercules Guide to Mare Nostrum. He gave us the guidebook so—”

“That is not a book,” Achelous insisted. “He gave you that just to get under my skin, didn’t he? He knows I hate those things.”

“You hate…books?” Piper asked.

“Bah!” Achelous’s face flushed, turning his blue skin eggplant purple. “That’s not a book.”

He pawed the water. A scroll shot from the river like a miniature rocket and landed in front of him. He nudged it open with his hooves. The weathered yellow parchment unfurled, covered with faded Latin script and elaborate hand-drawn pictures.

“This is a book!” Achelous said. “Oh, the smell of sheepskin! The elegant feel of the scroll unrolling beneath my hooves. You simply can’t duplicate it in something like that.”

He nodded indignantly at the guidebook in Jason’s hand. “You young folks today and your newfangled gadgets. Bound pages. Little compact squares of text that are not hoof-friendly. That’s a bound book, a b-book, if you must. But it’s not a traditional book. It’ll never replace the good old-fashioned scroll!”

“Um, I’ll just put this away now.” Jason slipped the guidebook in his back pocket the way he might holster a dangerous weapon.

Achelous seemed to calm down a little, which was a relief to Piper. She didn’t need to get run over by a one-horned bull with a scroll obsession.

“Now,” Achelous said, tapping a picture on his scroll. “This is Deianira.”

Piper knelt down to look. The hand-painted portrait was small, but she could tell the woman had been very beautiful, with long dark hair, dark eyes, and a playful smile that probably drove guys crazy.