The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus #2)(73)

They crossed the street and found a bench to sit on, next to a big bronze sculpture of an elephant.

“Looks like Hannibal,” Hazel said.

“Except it’s Chinese,” Frank said. “My grandmother has one of those.” He flinched. “I mean, hers isn’t twelve feet tall. But she imports stuff…from China. We’re Chinese.” He looked at Hazel and Percy, who were trying hard not to laugh. “Could I just die from embarrassment now?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Percy said. “Let’s see if we can make friends with the harpy.”

He raised the Thai noodles and fanned the smell upward—spicy peppers and cheesy goodness. The red harpy circled lower.

“We won’t hurt you,” Percy called up in a normal voice. “We just want to talk. Thai noodles for a chance to talk, okay?”

The harpy streaked down in a flash of red and landed on the elephant statue.

She was painfully thin. Her feathery legs were like sticks. Her face would have been pretty except for her sunken cheeks. She moved in jerky birdlike twitches, her coffee-brown eyes darting restlessly, her fingers clawing at her plumage, her earlobes, her shaggy red hair.

“Cheese,” she muttered, looking sideways. “Ella doesn’t like cheese.”

Percy hesitated. “Your name is Ella?”

“Ella. Aella. ‘Harpy.’ In English. In Latin. Ella doesn’t like cheese.” She said all that without taking a breath or making eye contact. Her hands snatched at her hair, her burlap dress, the raindrops, whatever moved.

Quicker than Percy could blink, she lunged, snatched the cinnamon burrito, and appeared atop the elephant again.

“Gods, she’s fast!” Hazel said.

“And heavily caffeinated,” Frank guessed.

Ella sniffed the burrito. She nibbled at the edge and shuddered from head to foot, cawing like she was dying. “Cinnamon is good,” she pronounced. “Good for harpies. Yum.”

She started to eat, but the bigger harpies swooped down. Before Percy could react, they began pummeling Ella with their wings, snatching at the burrito.

“Nnnnnnooo.” Ella tried to hide under her wings as her sisters ganged up on her, scratching with their claws. “N-no,” she stuttered. “N-n-no!”

“Stop it!” Percy yelled. He and his friends ran to help, but it was too late. A big yellow harpy grabbed the burrito and the whole flock scattered, leaving Ella cowering and shivering on top of the elephant.

Hazel touched the harpy’s foot. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Ella poked her head out of her wings. She was still trembling. With her shoulders hunched, Percy could see the bleeding gash on her back where Phineas had hit her with the weed whacker. She picked at her feathers, pulling out tufts of plumage. “S-small Ella,” she stuttered angrily. “W-weak Ella. No cinnamon for Ella. Only cheese.”

Frank glared across the street, where the other harpies were sitting in a maple tree, tearing the burrito to shreds. “We’ll get you something else,” he promised.

Percy set down the Thai noodles. He realized that Ella was different, even for a harpy. But after watching her get picked on, he was sure of one thing: whatever else happened, he was going to help her.

“Ella,” he said, “we want to be your friends. We can get you more food, but—”

“Friends,” Ella said. “‘Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.’” She glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and started reciting to the clouds. “‘A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds.’ Sixteen. You’re sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. ‘Ingredients: Bacon, Butter.’”

Percy’s ears were ringing. He felt dizzy, like he’d just plunged a hundred feet underwater and back up again. “Ella…what was that you said?”

“‘Bacon.’” She caught a raindrop out of the air. “‘Butter.’”

“No, before that. Those lines…I know those lines.”

Next to him, Hazel shivered. “It does sound familiar, like…I don’t know, like a prophecy. Maybe it’s something she heard Phineas say?”

At the name Phineas, Ella squawked in terror and flew away.

“Wait!” Hazel called. “I didn’t mean—Oh, gods, I’m stupid.”

“It’s all right.” Frank pointed. “Look.”

Ella wasn’t moving as quickly now. She flapped her way to the top of a three-story red brick building and scuttled out of sight over the roof. A single red feather fluttered down to the street.

“You think that’s her nest?” Frank squinted at the sign on the building. “Multnomah County Library?”

Percy nodded. “Let’s see if it’s open.”

They ran across the street and into the lobby.

A library wouldn’t have been Percy’s first choice for someplace to visit. With his dyslexia, he had enough trouble reading signs. A whole building full of books? That sounded about as much fun as Chinese water torture or getting his teeth extracted.

As they jogged through the lobby, Percy figured Annabeth would like this place. It was spacious and brightly lit, with big vaulted windows. Books and architecture, that was definitely her....