The Son of Neptune

Gods of Olympus, she’s beautiful, Frank thought

June chuckled. “All roads lead there, child. You should know that.”

“Detention?” Percy asked.

“These were on my pillow this morning.” He passed them to Percy. “Like the Tooth Fairy visited.”
The book was The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Percy had never heard of it, but he could guess who sent it. The letter read: Good job, kid. A real man’s best weapon is his mind. This was your mom’s favorite book. Give it a read. P.S.—I hope your friend Percy has learned some respect for me.
“Wow.” Percy handed back the book. “Maybe Mars is different than Ares. I don’t think Ares can read.”

The last few weeks he’d been so worried about surviving day to day. The idea of living long enough to be an adult and have kids of his own—that seemed like an impossible dream.

“Self-pity isn’t helpful, kid. It isn’t worthy of you.

The god shook his head. “You’d prefer it if it wasn’t me?”

“Yes,” Frank confessed.

Mars shrugged. “Can’t blame you. Nobody welcomes war—not if they’re smart. But war finds everyone sooner or later. It’s inevitable.”

“That’s stupid,” Frank said. “War isn’t inevitable. It kills people. It—”

“—took your mom,” Mars finished.

“I thought you hated men.”

Hylla and Kinzie both laughed.

“Hate men?” said the queen. “No, no, we like men. We just like to show them who’s in charge.

When ever the local gang members came close enough to look in Percy’s eyes, they quickly veered away. He’d perfected his wolf stare over the last few months—a look that said: However bad you think you are, I’m worse.

If you ever need a new girlfriend…well, I think you’d look great in an iron collar and an orange jumpsuit.”

His joints were so stiff, he could barely walk. If he went into battle like this, the enemy would call him Old Man Jackson.