PART OF YOUR WORLD, p. jackson

??. he doesn't want to bang you, somebody hang you!

All she cared about was her mum. Hades had taken her unfairly, and Hades was going to give her back.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispered in her mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain kept coming down.

Finally, the bus came.

She was relieved when they finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus.

The girls thought about stowing their backpacks, but Oliver disagreed, "What if we need to make a quick exit? You never know," He'd said.

Annabeth nodded and sat down, continuously slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers got on, Annabeth clamped her hand onto Percy's knee. "Percy."

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and her heart skipped a beat.

It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered, but definitely the same evil face.

Percy scrunched down in her seat.

Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long," Percy said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not."

"Well, shit," Ollie mumbled, his hands moving under their noses quietly. Percy couldn't tell what he was doing.

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking Ollie was scared. Percy could practically see the corks turn in her head, "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

They looked to Oliver, hoping he'd check. But the boy was busy, the tip of his tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he worked quietly, Percy would find it adorable if she wasn't terrified.

Annabeth sighed, checking the one near them.

"Ugh, they don't open. Is there a back exit?" she suggested.

There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded her. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

She thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof...?"

They hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I," said the second sister.