Rick Riordan The Last Olympian- 05 you guys are so polluted you ' re embarrassed to show your faces. Is that true?" A cold current rippled through the bay, churning up plumes of garbage and silt. " I heard the East River is more toxic," I continued, " but the Hudson smells worse. Or is it the other way around?" The water shimmered. Something powerful and angry was watching me now. I could sense its presence... or maybe two presences. I was afraid I ' d miscalculated with the insults. What if they just blasted me without showing themselves? But these were New York river gods. I figured their instinct would be to get in my face. Sure enough, two giant forms appeared in front of me. At first they were just dark brown columns of silt, denser than the water around them. Then they grew legs, arms, and scowling faces. The creature on the left looked disturbingly like a telkhine. His face was wolfish. His body was vaguely like a seal ' s— sleek black with flipper hands and feet. His eyes glowed radiation green.
The dude on the right was more humanoid. He was dressed in rags and seaweed, with a chain-mail coat made of bottle caps and old plastic six-pack holders. His face was blotchy with algae, and his beard was overgrown. His deep blue eyes burned with anger.
The seal, who had to be the god of the East River, said, " Are you trying to get yourself killed, kid? Or are you just extra stupid?" The bearded spirit of the Hudson scoffed. " You ' re the expert on stupid, East." " Watch it, Hudson," East growled. " Stay on your side of the island and mind your business." " Or what? You ' ll throw another garbage barge at me?" They floated toward each other, ready to fight. " Hold it!" I yelled. " We ' ve got a bigger problem."
" The kid ' s right," East snarled. " Let ' s both kill him, then we ' ll fight each other." " Sounds good," Hudson said.
Before I could protest, a thousand scraps of garbage surged off the bottom and flew straight at me from both directions: broken glass, rocks, cans, tires.
I was expecting it, though. The water in front of me thickened into a shield. The debris bounced off harmlessly. Only one piece got through— a big chunk of glass that hit my chest and probably should ' ve killed me, but it shattered against my skin. The two river gods stared at me. " Son of Poseidon?" East asked. I nodded. " Took a dip in the Styx?" Hudson asked. " Yep." They both made disgusted sounds. " Well, that ' s perfect," East said. " Now how do we kill him?" " We could electrocute him," Hudson mused. " If I could just find some jumper cables—" " Listen to me!" I said. " Kronos ' s army is invading Manhattan.'" " Don ' t you think we know that?" East asked. " I can feel his boats right now. They ' re almost across." " Yep," Hudson agreed. " I got some filthy monsters crossing my waters too."
" So stop them," I said. " Drown them. Sink their boats." " Why should we?" Hudson grumbled. " So they invade Olympus. What do we care?" " Because I can pay you." I took out the sand dollar my father had given me for my birthday.
The river gods ' eyes widened. " It ' s mine!" East said. " Give it here, kid, and I promise none of Kronos ' s scum are getting across the East River." " Forget that," Hudson said. " That sand dollar ' s mine, unless you want me to let all those ships cross the Hudson." " We ' ll compromise." I broke the sand dollar in half. A ripple of clean fresh water spread out from the break, as if all the pollution in the bay were being dissolved. " You each get half," I said. " In exchange, you keep all of Kronos ' s forces away from
Manhattan." " Oh, man," Hudson whimpered, reaching out for the sand dollar. " It ' s been so long since I was clean."
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