Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
51
51
pops into the ranch from time to time. Everyone needs something from ole Geryon. Now, Mr. di
Angelo, put that ugly sword away before I have Eurytion take it form you.”
Eurytion sighed, but he hefted his spiked club. At his feet, Orthus growled.
Nico hesitated. He looked thinner and paler than he had in the Iris-messages. I wondered if
he’d eaten in the last week. His black clothes were dus ty from traveling in the Labyrinth, and his
dark eyes were full of hate. He was too young to look so angry. I still remembered him as the
cheerful little kid who played with Mythomagic cards.
Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword. “If you come near me, Percy, I’ll summon help. You don’t
want to meet my helpers, I promise.”
“I believe you,” I said.
Geryon patted Nico’s shoulder. “There, we’ve all made nice. Now come along, folks. I want
to give you a tour of the ranch.”
***
Geryon had a trolley thing—like one of those kiddie trains that take you around zoos. It was
painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The driver’s car had a set of longhorns stuck to the
hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell. I figured maybe this was how he tortured people. He
embarrassed them to death riding around in the moo-mobile.
Nico sat in the very back, probably so he could keep an eye on us. Eurytion crawled in next
to him with his spiked club and pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap.
Orthus jumped in the front seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in two-part harmony.
Annabeth, Tyson, Grover, and I took the middle two cars.
“We have a huge operation!” Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. “Horses
and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too.”
We came over a hill, and Annabeth gasped. “Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct!”
At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of the weirdest animals I’d ever
seen. Each had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster. Their rear feet were huge
yellow claws. They had feathery tails and red wings. As I watched, two of them got in a fight over a
pile of seed. They reared up on their wings at each other until the smaller one galloped away, its
rear bird legs putting a little hop in its step.
“Rooster ponies,” Tyson said in amazement. “Do they lay eggs?”
“Once a year!” Geryon grinned in the rearview mirror. “Very much in demand for omelettes!”
“That’s horrible!” Annabeth said. “They must be an endangered species!”
Geryon waved his hand. “Gold is gold, darling. And you haven’t tasted the omelettes.”
“That’s not right,” Grover murmured, but Geryon just kept narrating the tour.
“Now, over here,” he said, “we have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on
your way in. They’re bred for war, naturally.”
“What war?” I asked.
Geryon grinned slyly. “Oh, whichever one comes along. And over yonder, of course, are our
prize red cows.”
Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-colored cattle were grazing the side of the hill.
“So many,” Grover said.
“Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see them,” Geryon explained, “so he subcontracts to us. We
breed them vigorously because there’s such a demand.”
“For what?” I asked.
Geryon raised an eyebrow. “Meat, of course! Armies have to eat.”
“You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?” Grover said. “That’s the
against ancient laws!”
“Oh, don’t get so worked up, satyr. They’re just animals.”
“Just animals!”
“Yes, and if Apollo cared, I’m sure he would tell us.”
“If he knew,” I muttered.
Nico sat forward. “I don’t care about any of this, Geryon. We had business to discuss, and
this wasn’t it!”
“All in good time, Mr. di Angelo. Look over here; some of my exotic game.”
The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions.