We managed to finally make it to the shore, with Percy pulling us most of the way. His control over water seemed to drain almost all of his energy, leaving him with barely enough energy to stay awake.

After reaching dry land, we stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise. I felt as if I'd just come back from the dead, which I had.

"I don't believe it," Annabeth said. "We went all that way-"

"It was a trick," Percy said out of breath. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

"Hey," she warned.

"You get it, don't you?"

She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody—"

"Percy . . ." I said tentatively. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry. . . ." I tried to say something, but the expression on his face told me more than enough

"The prophecy was right," Percy said. "'You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?" I stopped in my tracks, looking down the beach.

"Gee, let me think." Percy muttered sarcastically.

There he was, waiting for us, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminium baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see us. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," Percy sneered, clutching his side. "You stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power —that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice." The idea seemed to amuse him.

"Doesn't matter." Ares slung the bat of his shoulder and began examining it, as if he was checking it was the right weight to pulverize Percy. "The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this . . ."

From his pocket he took out a ski cap, the kind bank robbers wear, and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said, smirking. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"But they're your family!" I protested.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war, bud. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

"You gave us the backpack in Denver," I said. "The master bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," Ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. And that bracelet." I wasn't sure how Ares knew about that, but I guess a god of war had to make it his business to know about weapons.

"Anyway," Ares continued, "I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades. . . . Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way—no loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself ?" I said. "Why send it to Hades?" Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head.

"Why didn't I . . . yeah . . . with that kind of firepower . . ." He held the trance for one second . . . two seconds. . . . Ares's face cleared. "I didn't want the trouble. Better to have you caught red handed, holding the thing."

"You're lying," I said. "Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?"

"Of course it was!" Smoke drifted up from his sunglasses, as if they were about to catch fire.

"You didn't order the theft," I guessed. "Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around."

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!" I hesitated.

Percy interjected. "Who said anything about dreams?" Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk.

"Let's get back to the problem at hand. You're alive, kid. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hard headed idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal." He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even larger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half-Blood.

The beast pawed the sand, glaring at Percy with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill. I glanced over to Percy, who seemed to on his last legs. I knew if it charged at him, he had no chance of surviving.

"But hey," Ares shrugged. "I'm sure it won't take long. You don't even look strong enough to stand."

The giant boar charged at him, it's tusks glinting in the sunlight. I knew if I didn't think fast, Percy would be killed instantly. So, I intervened.

As the boar rushed him, I sprinted forward, thinking of a weapon. Something with reach, and power. Well balanced and deadly. A large spear burned in my hands, glinting in the sunlight. With thrust forward, I embedded the spear directly into the boar, causing it to explode into a shower of red dust. I turned back to Ares, anger surging through my veins.

I tried not to get mad often. Anger made people irrational and unfocused. But I didn't care. Ares might be a war god, but killing family was a big no-no in my books. Especially all that me and Percy had been through.

I raised my spear slightly, pointing directly at the surprised face of Ares.

"How about you fight me, bud." I hissed. Ares looked uncomfortable.

"Kid, step aside. This isn't your fight." He sighed, rubbing his temple.

"What's wrong? Scared to fight the first son of Hestia?" His eye glinted with annoyance, and he rolled the baseball bat in his hands.

"Watch it. I could turn you into-"

"An ant," I said. "Or a rat. Or maybe even a weasel. Yeah, I'm sure you could. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"'

Flames flared along the top of his glasses. "Oh, man, my patience is not cut out for this."

"You know, for a war god, you really don't want to fight." I narrowed my eyes, smirking slightly. "That's some pussy behaviour if you ask me." Behind me I heard Grover facepalm.

"Oh, you son of a . . ." Ares clenched his fists.

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want." I shrugged. "Take the bolt. Leave Percy alone. But if I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away." Ares sneered. He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder.

"How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?" I concentrated, my spear slowly morphing into a sword.

"That's cool, dead boy," he said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

"Y/N," Annabeth said. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a little bitch." I said. She swallowed.

"Wear this, at least. For luck." She took off her necklace, with her five years' worth of camp beads and the ring from her father and tied it around my neck.

"Reconciliation," she said. My face felt a little warm, but I managed a smile. "Thanks."

"And take this," Grover said. He handed me a flattened tin can that he'd probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

"Grover . . . I don't know what to say." He patted me on the shoulder. I stuffed the tin can in my back pocket.

"Hey," Percy managed to get up from the sand, making his way over to me. He pulled out his pen, Riptide. Its cap glinting in the sunlight. He pulled me close, until we were basically hugging.

"Stay in the water." He murmured. "I'll help out where I can." I nodded slowly, before pulling away.

Ares came toward me, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. "I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited, and I cannot die. What have you got?"

"A smaller ego." I smirked. His nostrils flared, but he managed to keep his composure. I kept my feet in the surf, backing into the water up to my ankles. I thought back to what Annabeth had said at the Denver diner, so long ago: Ares has strength. That's all he has.

Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.

He cleaved downward at my head, but I wasn't there. My body thought for me. The water seemed to pull me to the side, sliding away from his blade. Percy must be helping me. I quickly slashed at his side, but Ares was just as quick. He twisted, and the strike that should've caught him directly in the ribs was deflected off the end of his sword hilt. He grinned.

"Not bad, not bad." He slashed again and I was forced to jump onto dry land. I tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know what I wanted. He outmanoeuvred me, pressing so hard I had to put all my concentration on not getting sliced into pieces. I kept backing away from the surf. I couldn't find any openings to attack.

With a quick move, I thrusted inwards, getting in close. But he was ready. He knocked my blade out of my hands and kicked me in the chest. I went airborne—twenty, maybe thirty feet. I would've broken my back if I hadn't crashed into the soft sand of a dune.

"Y/N!" Annabeth yelled. "Cops!" I was seeing double. My chest felt like it had just been hit with a battering ram, but I managed to get to my feet. I couldn't look away from Ares for fear he'd slice me in half, but out of the corner of my eye I saw red lights flashing on the shoreline boulevard. Car doors were slamming.

"There, officer!" somebody yelled. "See?"

A gruff cop voice said. "What the heck . . . That guy's armed. Call for backup." I rolled to one side as Ares's blade slashed the sand. I ran for my sword, scooped it up, and launched a swipe at Ares's face, only to find my blade deflected again. Ares seemed to know exactly what I was going to do the moment before I did it. I stepped back toward the surf, forcing him to follow.

"Admit it, kid," Ares said. "You got no hope. I'm just toying with you." My senses were working overtime. I now understood what Annabeth had said about ADHD keeping you alive in battle. I was wide awake, noticing every little detail. I could see where Ares was tensing. I could tell which way he would strike.

At the same time, I was aware of Annabeth and Grover, thirty feet to my left. I saw a second cop car pulling up, siren wailing. Spectators, people who had been wandering the streets because of the earthquake, were starting to gather. Among the crowd, I thought I saw a few who were walking with the strange, trotting gait of disguised satyrs. There were shimmering forms of spirits, too, as if the dead had risen from Hades to watch the battle. I heard the flap of leathery wings circling somewhere above. More sirens.

The tip of his blade ripped my sleeve and grazed my forearm. A police voice on a megaphone said, "Drop the guns! Set them on the ground. Now!" Guns? I looked at Ares's weapon, and it seemed to be flickering; sometimes it looked like a shotgun, sometimes a two-handed sword. I didn't know what the humans were seeing in my hands, but I was pretty sure it wouldn't make them like me. Ares turned to glare at our spectators, which gave me a moment to breathe. There were five police cars now, and a line of officers crouching behind them, pistols trained on us.

"This is a private matter!" Ares bellowed. "Be gone!" He swept his hand, and a wall of red flame rolled across the patrol cars. The police barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded.

"No!" I screamed, throwing my hand out. The explosion from the cars halted in mid air, as if someone had pressed pause on it. The crowd scattered, screaming. Ares roared with laughter.

"Now, little hero. Let's add you to the barbecue." He slashed. I deflected his blade. I got close enough to strike, tried to fake him out with a feint, but my blow was knocked aside. His sword had a reach several feet longer than my blade. I knew I had to get in close, but Ares was too good. The moment I tried to get in range, he pulled back, always keeping a distance between his blade and mine. I needed more reach, something different than a sword.

I needed a different weapon.

With a quick manoeuvre, I slid back on the sand, putting some distance between me and him. Ares seemed to sense the openness between our blades. He rushed closer, cutting the distance between us. But I was ready.

I quickly thought of what I needed. Something with reach, like a spear, but sturdy and sharp, like an axe. A burning sensation heated my wrist, and my sword glowed. I thrust the weapon forward as it elongated in my hands. Ares eyes widened, and he attempted to duck out of the way. But I had more reach this time. With a strange, schlick! sound, my newly formed halberd embedded itself directly into the god's liver.

The roar that followed made Hades's earthquake look like a minor event. The sand was blasted back from Ares, covering everything in wet paste. Which was just more sand, really. Ichor, the golden blood of the gods, flowed from a gash in the war god's jacket. The expression on his face was beyond hatred.

It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that he'd been wounded. He hobbled toward me, muttering ancient Greek curses. Something stopped him. It was as if a cloud covered the sun, but worse. Light faded. Sound and colour drained away. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing, and making me feel like life was hopeless, fighting was useless.

The darkness lifted. Ares looked stunned. Police cars were burning behind us. The crowd of spectators had fled. Annabeth, Grover and Percy stood on the beach, in shock. Ares lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling." He murmured. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your weapon in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Y/N, Beware." His body began to glow.

"Y/N!" Annabeth shouted. "Don't watch!" I turned away as the god Ares revealed his true immortal form. I somehow knew that if I looked, I would disintegrate into ashes. The light died. I looked back. Ares was gone.

The glow of a faint helmet caught my attention. Hades's bronze helm of darkness. I dropped to my knee, breathing heavily. The adrenaline had worn off by now, and I was dead tired. The sound of flapping wings came from behind me. Three evil-looking grandmothers with lace hats and fiery whips drifted down from the sky and landed in front of me. The middle Fury, stepped forward. Her fangs were bared, but for once she didn't look threatening. She looked more disappointed, as if she'd been planning to have me for supper, but had decided I might give her indigestion. she glanced down to the helmet, snatching it up.

"We saw the whole thing," she hissed. "So . . . it truly wasn't Perseus."

"Return that to Lord Hades," Annabeth said. "Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war." The fury hesitated, then ran a forked tongue over her green, leathery lips. "Very well, demigods," My skin crawled. "Become true heros. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again . . ." She cackled, savouring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats' wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

"Y/N . . ." Grover said. "That was so incredibly . . ."

"Terrifying," said Annabeth.

"Cool!" Percy corrected. I didn't feel terrified. I certainly didn't feel cool. I was tired and sore and completely drained of energy.

"Did you guys feel that . . . whatever it was?" I asked. Annabeth both nodded uneasily.

"Must've been the Furies overhead," Annabeth said. But I wasn't so sure. Something had stopped Ares from killing me, and whatever could do that was a lot stronger than the Furies. I had a good feeling of what it was.

Percy opened up the backpack. The master bolt was still there. Such a small thing to almost cause World War III.

"We have to get back to New York," I said. "By tonight."

"That's impossible," Annabeth said, "unless we-"

"Fly," Percy said. She stared at him.

"Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus strike you out of the sky, and carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "Pretty much exactly like that. Come on."