RECLUSE - (n) a person who lives a solitary life and tends to avoid other people.
MAISIE ELLIOT WAS ANGRY.
Angry at the world.
Angry at the Gods.
Angry at the demigods who seemed to move on too fast.
And when forced onto a quest with three stranger...
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BLACKJACK'S HOOVES HIT THE ASPHALT ROUGHLY.
They had just reached the thirty-two mile marker on the deserted road. No wine god in sight.
Blackjack neighed.
"You're right," Percy said. "No sign of the wine dude."
"I beg your pardon?" said a voice from the fields.
Maisie almost jumped out of her skin. Tempest turned so quickly that Piper had almost fallen off.
The wheat parted and revealed a man stepping into view. Maisie recognized him immediately. He looked like Mr. D, with the color of his hair, similar face, and similar style of clothing. But this wasn't Mr. D.
"Did somebody just call me the wine dude?" He asked in a lazy drawl. "It's Bacchus, please. Or Mr. Bacchus. Or lord Bacchus. Or, sometimes, Oh-my-gods-please-don't-kill-me, Lord Bacchus."
"You look different," Percy noted. "Skinnier, and your hair is longer."
"Yeah, and his shirt isn't as hideous." Maisie pointed out, causing Percy to nod in agreement.
The wine god squinted to them. "What in the blazes are you talking about? Who are you, and where is Ceres?"
"Uh... what series?" Percy asked.
"I think he means Ceres," Jason said. "The goddess of agriculture. You'd call her Demeter." He nodded respectfully to the god. "Lord Bacchus, do you remember me? I helped you with that missing leopard in Sonoma?"
Bacchus scratched his stubbly chin. "Ah, yes. John Green."
"Jason Grace."
"Whatever," The god said.
"Looks like some things never change," Maisie stated.
"Did Ceres send you, then?"
"No, lord Bacchus," Jason informed. "Were you expecting to meet her here?"
The god snorted. "Well I didn't come to Kansas to party, my boy. Ceres asked me here for a council of war. With Gaea rising, the crops are withering. Droughts are spreading. The Karpoi are in revolt. Even my grapes are not safe. Ceres wanted a united front in the plant war."
"The plant war," Percy said. "You're going to arm all the tiny little grapes with tiny assault rifles?"
Maisie stifled a laugh.
The god narrows his eyes, "have we met?"
"At Camp Half-Blood," Percy answered. "I know you as Mr. D— Dionysus."
"Agh!" Bacchus pressed a hand to his temple. For a moment his image flickered to Mr D. Same loud shirt and chubby stomach. Then he returned to Bacchus. "Stop that!" He demanded. "Stop thinking about me in Greek."
