The Titan's Curse

blocking the way to Arizona. Three more on the west side, guarding Nevada. All of them were armed with batons and pistols.
    But our immediate problem was a lot closer. The three skeletal warriors who’d been chasing me in the turbine room now appeared on the stairs. They saw me from across the cafeteria and clattered their teeth.
    “Elevator!” Grover said. We bolted that direction, but the doors opened with a pleasant ding , and three more warriors stepped out. Every warrior was accounted for, minus the one Bianca had blasted to flames in New Mexico. We were completely surrounded.
    Then Grover had a brilliant, totally Grover-like idea.
    “Burrito fight!” he yelled, and flung his Guacamole Grande at the nearest skeleton.
    Now, if you have never been hit by a flying burrito, count yourself lucky. In terms of deadly projectiles, it’s right up there with grenades and cannonballs. Grover’s lunch hit the skeleton and knocked his skull clean off his shoulders. I’m not sure what the other kids in the café saw, but they went crazy and started throwing their burritos and baskets of chips and sodas at each other, shrieking and screaming.
    The skeletons tried to aim their guns, but it was hopeless. Bodies and food and drinks were flying everywhere.
    In the chaos, Thalia and I tackled the other two skeletons on the stairs and sent them flying into the condiment table. Then we all raced downstairs, Guacamole Grandes whizzing past our heads.
    “What now?” Grover asked as we burst outside.
    I didn’t have an answer. The warriors on the road were closing in from either direction. We ran across the street to the pavilion with the winged bronze statues, but that just put our backs to the mountain.
    The skeletons moved forward, forming a crescent around us. Their brethren from the café were running up to join them. One was still putting its skull back on its shoulders. Another was covered in ketchup and mustard. Two more had burritos lodged in their rib cages. They didn’t look happy about it. They drew batons and advanced.
    “Four against eleven,” Zoë muttered. “And they cannot die.”
    “It’s been nice adventuring with you guys,” Grover said, his voice trembling.
    Something shiny caught the corner of my eye. I glanced behind me at the statue’s feet. “Whoa,” I said. “Their toes really are bright.”
    “Percy!” Thalia said. “This isn’t the time.”
    But I couldn’t help staring at the two giant bronze guys with tall bladed wings like letter openers. They were weathered brown except for their toes, which shone like new pennies from all the times people had rubbed them for good luck.
    Good luck. The blessing of Zeus.
    I thought about the tour guide in the elevator. Her gray eyes and her smile. What had she said? There is always a way for those clever enough to find it.
    “Thalia,” I said. “Pray to your dad.”
    She glared at me. “He never answers.”
    “Just this once,” I pleaded. “Ask for help. I think . . . I think the statues can give us some luck.”
    Six skeletons raised their guns. The other five came forward with batons. Fifty feet away. Forty feet.
    “Do it!” I yelled.
    “No!” Thalia said. “He won’t answer me.”
    “This time is different!”
    “Who says?”
    I hesitated. “Athena, I think.”
    Thalia scowled like she was sure I’d gone crazy.
    “Try it,” Grover pleaded.
    Thalia closed her eyes. Her lips moved in a silent prayer. I put in my own prayer to Annabeth’s mom, hoping I was right that it had been her in that elevator—that she was trying to help us save her daughter.
    And nothing happened.
    The skeletons closed in. I raised Riptide to defend myself. Thalia held up her shield. Zoë pushed Grover behind her and aimed an arrow at a skeleton’s head.
    A shadow fell over me. I thought maybe it was the shadow of death. Then I realized it was the shadow of an enormous wing. The skeletons looked up too late. A flash of bronze, and all five of the baton-wielders were swept aside.
    The other skeletons opened fire. I raised my lion coat for protection, but I didn’t need it. The bronze angels stepped in front of us and folded their wings like shields. Bullets pinged off of them like rain off a corrugated roof. Both angels slashed outward, and the skeletons went flying across the road.
    “Man, it feels good to stand up!” the first angel said. His voice sounded tinny and rusty, like he hadn’t had a drink since he’d been built.
    “Will ya look at