Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
87
87
"Camp Half-Blood!" I said.
And there, shimmering in the Mist right next to us, was the last person I wanted to see: Mr.
D, wearing his leopard-skin jogging suit and rummaging through the refrigerator.
He looked up lazily. "Do you mind?"
"Where's Chiron!" I shouted.
"How rude." Mr. D took a swig from a jug of grape juice. "Is that how you say hello?"
"Hello," I amended. "We're about to die! Where's Chiron?"
Mr. D considered that. I wanted to scream at him to hurry up, but I knew that wouldn't work.
Behind us, footsteps and shouting—the manticore's troops were closing in.
"About to die," Mr. D mused. "How exciting. I'm afraid Chiron isn't here. Would you like me to
take a message?"
I looked at my friends. "We're dead."
Thalia gripped her spear. She looked like her old angry self again. "Then we'll die fighting."
"How noble," Mr. D said, stifling a yawn. "So what is the problem, exactly?"
I didn't see that it would make any difference, but I told him about the Ophiotaurus.
"Mmm." He studied the contents of the fridge. "So that's it. I see."
"You don't even care!" I screamed. "You'd just as soon watch us die!"
"Let's see. I think I'm in the mood for pizza tonight."
I wanted to slash through the rainbow and disconnect, but I didn't have time. The manticore
screamed, "There!" And we were surrounded. Two of the guards stood behind him. The other two
appeared on the roofs of the pier shops above us. The manticore threw off his coat and transformed
into his true self, his lion claws extended and his spiky tail bristling with poison barbs.
"Excellent," he said. He glanced at the apparition in the mist and snorted. "Alone, without
any real help. Wonderful."
"You could ask for help," Mr. D murmured to me, as if this were an amusing thought. "You
could say please."
When wild boars fly, I thought. There was no way I was going to die begging a slob like Mr.
D, just so he could laugh as we all got gunned down.
Zoe readied her arrows. Grover lifted his pipes. Thalia raised her shield, and I noticed a tear
running down her cheek. Suddenly it occurred to me: this had happened to her before. She had
been cornered on Half-Blood Hill. She'd willingly given her life for her friends. But this time, she
couldn't save us.
How could I let that happen to her?
"Please, Mr. D," I muttered. "Help."
Of course, nothing happened.
The manticore grinned. "Spare the daughter of Zeus. She will join us soon enough. Kill the
others."
The men raised their guns, and something strange happened. You know how you feel when
all the blood rushes to your head, like if you hang upside down and turn right-side up too quickly?
There was a rush like that all around me, and a sound like a huge sigh. The sunlight tinged with
purple. I smelled grapes and something more sour—wine.
SNAP!
It was the sound of many minds breaking at the same time. The sound of madness. One
guard put his pistol between his teeth like it was a bone and ran around on all fours. Two others
dropped their guns and started waltzing with each other. The fourth began doing what looked like an
Irish clogging dance. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so terrifying.
"No!" screamed the manticore. "I will deal with you myself!"
His tail bristled, but the planks under his paws erupted into grape vines, which immediately
began wrapping around the monster's body, sprouting new leaves and clusters of green baby
grapes that ripened in seconds as the manticore shrieked, until he was engulfed in a huge mass of
vines, leaves, and full clusters of purple grapes. Finally the grapes stopped shivering, and I had a
feeling that somewhere inside there, the manticore was no more.
"Well," said Dionysus, closing his refrigerator. "That was fun."
I stared at him, horrified. "How could you… How did you—"