Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Demigod Files

home, and sixth period was shop class. Mr. Bell never took attendance.
    “So let me get this straight,” I said. “You took your dad’s car for a joyride, and now it’s missing.”
    “It’s not a car,” Clarisse growled. “It’s a war chariot! And he told me to take it out. It’s like . . . a test. I’m supposed to bring it back at sunset. But—”
    “Your brothers carjacked you.”
    “Chariot-jacked me,” she corrected. “They’re his regular charioteers, see. And they don’t like anybody else getting to drive. So they stole the chariot from me and chased me off with those stupid arrow-throwing birds.”
    “Your dad’s pets?”
    She nodded miserably. “They guard his temple. Anyway, if I don’t find the chariot . . .”
    She looked like she was about to lose it. I didn’t blame her. I’d seen her dad, Ares, get mad before, and it was not a pretty sight. If Clarisse failed him, he would come down hard on her. Real hard.
    “I’ll help you,” I said.
    She scowled. “Why would you? I’m not your friend.”
    I couldn’t argue with that. Clarisse had been mean to me a million times, but still, I didn’t like the idea of her or anybody else getting beat up by Ares. I was trying to figure out how to explain that to her when a guy’s voice said, “Aw, look. I think she’s been crying!”
    A teenage dude was leaning against a telephone pole. He was dressed in ratty jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket, with a bandanna over his hair. A knife was stuck in his belt. He had eyes the color of flames.
    “Phobos.” Clarisse balled her fists. “Where’s the chariot, you jerk?”
    “ You lost it,” he teased. “Don’t ask me.”
    “You little—”
    Clarisse drew her sword and charged, but Phobos disappeared as she swung, and her blade bit into the telephone pole.
    Phobos appeared on the bench next to me. He was laughing, but he stopped when I stuck Riptide’s point against his throat.
    “You’d better return that chariot,” I told him, “before I get mad.”
    He sneered and tried to look tough, or as tough as you can with a sword under your chin. “Who’s your little boyfriend, Clarisse? You have to get help fighting your battles now?”
    “He’s not my boyfriend!” Clarisse tugged her sword, pulling it out of the telephone pole. “He’s not even my friend. That’s Percy Jackson.”
    Something changed in Phobos’s expression. He looked surprised, maybe even nervous. “The son of Poseidon? The one who made Dad angry? Oh, this is too good, Clarisse. You’re hanging out with a sworn enemy?”
    “I’m not hanging out with him!”
    Phobos’s eyes glowed bright red.
    Clarisse screamed. She swatted the air as if she were being attacked by invisible bugs. “Please, no!”
    “What are you doing to her?” I demanded.
    Clarisse backed up into the street, swinging her sword wildly.
    “Stop it!” I told Phobos. I dug my sword a little deeper against his throat, but he simply vanished, reappearing back at the telephone pole.
    “Don’t get so excited, Jackson,” Phobos said. “I’m just showing her what she fears.”
    The glow faded from his eyes.
    Clarisse collapsed, breathing hard. “You creep,” she gasped. “I’ll . . . I’ll get you.”
    Phobos turned toward me. “How about you, Percy Jackson? What do you fear? I’ll find out, you know. I always do.”
    “Give the chariot back.” I tried to keep my voice even. “I took on your dad once. You don’t scare me.”
    Phobos laughed. “Nothing to fear but fear itself. Isn’t that what they say? Well, let me tell you a little secret, half-blood. I am fear. If you want to find the chariot, come and get it. It’s across the water. You’ll find it where the little wild animals live—just the sort of place you belong.”
    He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a curtain of yellow vapor.
    Now, I’ve got to tell you, I’ve met a lot of godlings and monsters I didn’t like, but Phobos took the prize. I don’t like bullies. I’d never been in the “A” crowd at school, so I’d spent most of my life standing up to punks who tried to frighten me and my friends. The way Phobos laughed at me and made Clarisse collapse just by looking at her . . . I wanted to teach this guy a lesson.
    I helped Clarisse up. Her face was still beaded with sweat.
    “ Now are you ready for help?” I asked.
    We took the subway, keeping a lookout for more attacks, but no one bothered us. As we rode, Clarisse told me about Phobos