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Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Chalice of the Gods(39)

Author:Rick Riordan

I shot to the surface.

I shouldn’t have worried. On the ledge above, Annabeth sat with her ankles crossed, talking calmly with a very rattled Elisson. The river god leaned against her like a shell-shocked refugee, shivering and completely coated with river silt. His man bun had come unraveled, so his hair now looked like a dying yucca plant.

“I—I had no idea,” he said, sniffling.

“There, there.” Annabeth put her arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay. He can be scary when he gets worked up.”

I floated in the pool, wondering if I had surfaced in some alternate dimension. Annabeth was comforting the dude who’d just tried to drown me, and she seemed to be calling me scary. Then she looked down and winked at me—a sign that meant, Just go with it.

“You have to admit, though,” she told Elisson, “Percy did a great job.”

A great job? I wondered. What was she talking about?

My head wound seemed to have healed itself in the water, so I probably wasn’t hallucinating.

Then I scanned the grotto. My tidal wave had swept the cliff walls right up to Annabeth’s feet, leaving the rock sparkling clean. Now that the sediment had resettled, the pool was even clearer than before. The air smelled fresh and crisp, with that “new river” smell restored. The current flowed stronger and colder, rushing through the cavern with a jubilant clamor like an audience unleashed onto the streets after a great performance.

I had apparently given the River Elisson my super-deluxe Poseidon Wash package, complete with triple-foam conditioner, undercarriage rust protection, and extreme shine wax.

I looked around for the staff of rainbows. I didn’t see it. With my luck, I’d probably blasted it all the way to Harlem.

Annabeth was still patting Elisson’s shoulder, making comforting sounds. When I locked eyes with her, she pointed with her chin, telling me to look downriver, but I still didn’t see anything.

Elisson shuddered. “I . . . I didn’t know I had so much water pressure.”

“The flow is great now,” Annabeth said. “It should help with your vinyasa.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. And I’ve never seen a cleaner river. If you find any spots Percy missed, though, I’m sure he could—”

“No!” Elisson yelped. “No, it’s wonderful.”

He said wonderful as if it meant extremely painful.

“Sorry,” I blurted out. I couldn’t believe I was apologizing for rescuing myself from a guy who had tried to kill me, but I felt bad for him. “I got a little carried away.”

He winced. “No . . . no, I asked if you could clean the river. And you did. That will teach me to use sarcasm.”

For once, he didn’t sound sarcastic.

Annabeth gestured downstream again, like she was telling me, Right there, dummy.

This time I saw what she was pointing at. About thirty feet away, Iris’s staff had wedged itself into a crevice right above the waterline. The oak shaft gleamed. The elaborate herald’s crest glowed with a warm yellow light, not a speck of grime on its Celestial bronze designs.

“Uh, if it’s okay,” I said, “I’m just going to . . .” I pointed to the staff.

Elisson wouldn’t meet my eyes. He only nodded. I had the feeling he would’ve had the same reaction if I’d demanded he hand over his wallet. Wow, I was such a terrible person.

As I swam downstream, I heard a faint strand of music drifting through the air: Grover’s panpipes, somewhere far across the cavern. He’d given up on Duran Duran. Now he was playing the Beatles’ “Help!” I took this as a subtle message that he was getting tired of leading the snake parade.

I grabbed Iris’s staff and swam back to Annabeth and Elisson. I was hoping that Annabeth might throw me the rope and help me up, but she didn’t look like she was in any hurry to say good-bye to the river god. In fact, she had pulled out her thermos and was pouring him a hot beverage.

“So this is a nice rose hip–chamomile blend,” she told him. “I think you’ll find it soothing.”

Elisson sipped the tea. “Lovely.”

“What is going on?” I asked.

I wasn’t really expecting an answer, which was good, since I didn’t get one.

“How often a day?” Elisson asked Annabeth.

“Oh, I’d try morning and evening,” she said. “Also, anytime you want to meditate. Here.” She handed him a couple of extra packets. “No caffeine. I’d stay away from that green tea. It’s stressing you out.”

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