Book of the Day – Delirium by Lauren Oliver. Young adult dystopian/romance. This is really amazing material! Go read it! I recommend it to teen girls, though guys could read it too. It's the first book in the Delirium Trilogy.

X

JASON

Jason's first thought was, Cyclops! But this man was different from the rough beasts he'd encountered before. Instead of being made of all bulk and meaty muscle, this man's muscular arms were sleek and almost graceful-looking. He certainly wasn't as tall as cyclopes, either, though he was a good foot taller than Jason and Frank. And his eye was different. It was smaller, looked more like a human eye than cyclopes' big, round eyes. He had messy brown hair that stuck out past his ears, and his one eye was a glittering, almost evil-looking green. His mouth was set in a firm line and he had the faint shadow of a beard on his chin and cheeks. He was wearing a T-shirt and farmer's overalls, the knees of his pants brushed with dirt, as though he'd been out weeding in the garden. Jason decided he looked about thirty, but he the lines of an old man around his eye and the rest of his face.

Meanwhile, Frank looked like a little kid at school who'd just gotten caught stealing from the vending machine, his mouth wide open and eyes big with sock.

"You're—you're—" Frank stammered.

Jason took this as his cue to step in. "Are you the owner of this house?" he asked politely, thinking a friendly start was always good. No need to get violent until later, though his hand was already ready at his pocket.

The man didn't answer, but his arm jerked just the tiniest bit by his side, and the strangest creature Jason had ever seen (and that was saying a lot; just living at Camp Jupiter, let alone on the quests he'd lead, he'd seen plenty strange) stepped into the doorway, by his side.

For starters, it was partly green, and Jason wasn't surprised (it was obviously the creature he and Frank had seen glimpses of, watching them in the house). The creature was also red, blue, and yellow, but that wasn't the strange part. Nearly up to his master's shoulder in height, the creature's clawed rooster feet protruded from the rear end of a rooster, with a tail, and yellow rooster's wings at its sides. The front part the creature was a multicolored horse, its eyes an angry red, steam puffing from its nostrils.

"What . . . is that?" Frank, always one for sensitivity, asked.

"A hippalektryon," the man grunted, surprising both Jason and Frank for speaking for the first time, in a deep and almost unrecognizable voice, due to a thick accent that Jason couldn't trace.

"Hippo . . ." Frank failed to repeat.

"He is my bodyguard and pet, better known as Steve," the man continued. Then, very casually, he drew a sharp, gold, Roman-looking sword, that resembled Jason's own, from a hidden belt in his overalls and hefted it in his hand. Jason couldn't help noticing he was left-handed. If it came to a fight, it would be harder for both Jason and the man, fighting opposite-handed foes.

"Steve?" Frank squeaked, staring in horror at the sword the man wielded.

The man grunted something that might have been a "Yes."

"My name is Denes. I am of the Arimospi tribe—"

"The tribe of one-eyed men," Jason interrupted, thinking, That explains the accent.

"Hmm. Yes," Denes grunted, his eye narrowing as if Jason were some creep who'd stalked him and his tribe over Facebook. "But I left my tribe in the Ural Mountains some time ago, and became a follower of Hermes."

"So you are the owner of this house," Frank accused, jabbing a finger in the air toward him.

"I prefer to think of it as my mansion," Denes replied, pressing his lips together in a hard line.

He turned to Jason and waved an arm at Jason's hand hanging by his side, holding the lyre. "What are you doing with that?"

Jason was so startled he took a fumbling stepped backward and bumped into a small office table, and dropped the lyre on top of it.

"It's—it's not yours," Frank bravely spoke up. "We know it belongs to Lord Apollo, and we've come to retrieve it for him."

"Demigods, eh?" Denes grunted in a musing tone. Jason guessed grunting was about the only way to get communication through for him. "I normally respect the children of the gods . . ."

Frank got a hopeful look in his eye.

". . . but I can't let you take that instrument. Hermes himself placed the lyre into my particular hands. He said to take special care of it—and not to give it to anyone, or at least without a fight. Well, I am up for a fight, demigods."

With those words, Denes raised his sword.

The manner of his movement almost seemed casual—but Jason knew his muscular body was tense, ready to take on anything. Jason didn't like the odds of fighting him—plus his hippalektryon, who'd been standing quietly at his master's side the whole time Denes had been talking.

But Jason also had Frank, and he could use the advantage of Frank's morphing powers as a surprise if he needed to; he didn't think Denes knew about them.

Jason glanced at Frank and nodded, signaling that he would fight Denes, and Frank could do his best to take on the hippalektryon. Then he drew out his coin from his pocket and flipped it, loving the feel of his gold sword in his hand again—particularly at this moment, when he needed it—when he caught it.

Jason and Denes began to circle each other.

"So, demigod, it's a one-on-one, then?" Denes said, snarling menacingly. Jason was surprised and taken aback. So far, Denes hadn't shown any emotional signs. But now he looked ferocious and excited about their fight.

Jason didn't reply to Denes's comment.

"What is your friend's part in this?" Denes asked as they continued circling each other.

"Frank doesn't like battles," Jason answered, throwing a feint hit at Denes to test how good he was in swordplay. The Arimospi, obviously an expert, ducked and resumed his stance again in seconds, giving Jason barely enough time to pull back his sword.

"Funny, he looks to have some war blood in him," Denes said.

Jason risked a glance at Frank. He was facing off the hippalektryon, Steve, who had advanced upon him as soon as he realized his master was occupied. Steve still resumed his bodyguard duty, though, watching Denes out of the corner of his eye. The creature had Frank backed up against a wall, looking terrified but wielding his spear. Jason figured he was holding out at the moment.

He turned his attention back to Denes just in time for the man to strike at his left thigh, one of Jason's weak spots. He wondered if Denes had somehow known that, or if he was just a very good swordsman thus a very good guesser.

Jason swung his sword in a long arc and came under Denes's, just stopping it from hitting his leg; their swords clashed together so forcefully Jason knew Denes could have taken his whole leg off if he'd hit his intended mark.

Denes's one eyebrow raised just a tiny bit. "So, demigod, you have been holding out on me," he said in an amused, impressed sort of tone.

Jason only grunted in response, pressing hard against Denes's blade, trying to push him back.

"Where did you train to get that kind of swordplay?" Denes asked curiously, holing Jason in place. Jason could just barely hold his own against the man, and in this position he could tell that Denes was definitely stronger than him. "You must be a son to a god of high rank," Denes guessed.

"Who said it was a god?" Jason grunted out, trying not to let the Arimospi know anything about him for fear he would discover his weaknesses.

Denes looked surprised. "Your immortal parent is female? That, somehow, does not seem to fit. It must be Athena, the goddess of war strategies—though you do not seem to have her wiser side, or else you would not be in this position now."

"It's not Athena." Jason though it was a good idea to keep Denes guessing. He noticed the Arimospi had slacked a little while talking, and Jason took this opportunity to drive his hardest blow at him, and as Denes stumbled the tiniest bit, Jason jumped back, safely out of reach.

Denes appeared mildly impressed. "Perhaps Aphrodite?" he continued to guess, this time mockingly, smirking. "You do have the pretty face for it."

"No!" Jason gasped, thinking of Piper and feeling disgusted.

Denes's eye flickered upward as he thought for a moment. "You say it is a goddess?"

"I said no such thing."

Denes began to lazily circle Jason, swinging his sword casually at his side. Jason had suspected that he was using the whole guessing game to try to distract him, the same purpose Jason had created the game for, to try to distract Denes, and now he felt certain. He wasn't sure if Denes knew he knew it, though.

Meanwhile, Frank was battling Denes's pet hippalektryon. He slashed at it with his spear. The creature reared back on his skinny rooster feet—how he held himself up with those, Jason didn't know—and let out a horrible, half-rooster, half-horse cockle doodle doo–neigh.

Jason followed the Arimospi's lead and tried to look casual himself, not doing something as foolish as swinging his sword, but relaxing his tight muscles and face expression. He wasn't surprised when Denes leaped at him, smoothly and silently, aiming a blow at his head. Jason whipped his sword up and he and Denes clashed blades quickly, numerously, until Jason finally hit a blow with all his strength and knocked the Arimospi back so hard he had the decency to look surprised.

"You have been hiding your skills from me," Denes mused, in an almost complaining tone, like he was Jason's best friend and Jason had forgot to invite him to his birthday party.

"Still haven't guessed my parent," Jason reminded him.

Denes gave a twisted smile. "I think I am getting closer, though. This is what I think: I think your immortal parent is a god—a male, not some lowly female goddess, am I right?"

When Jason didn't answer, Denes gave an impatient growl and repeated, "Am I right?"

Jason chose to remain silent, and wondered if Denes actually was playing his game, after all. He glanced over to check on Frank, and saw that the son of Mars had turned himself into a small, orange crab, and was snapping at the hippalektryon's rooster claws while the creature shrieked. Jason almost smiled at the scene—then the hippalektryon darted his head forward and bit Frank through his shirt on the shoulder with his big horse teeth. Frank gave a strangled cry as blood trickled down his arm and fingertips.

Jason was filled with fury at the creature who had hurt his friend, and was debating about whether to go help him, when he realized his mistake of letting his attention wander as Denes leaped at him and nearly took his left arm off, which Jason just barely managed pull toward him. He had forgotten that Denes was left-handed, and Jason's left arm, without a weapon, had been on the Arimospi's good side. He and Denes clashed swords again, and Jason was almost getting used to the steel of the Arimospi's blade scraping his. Then Jason pushed Denes off of him, as hard as he could, and when the one-eyed man stumbled back a few steps, Jason summoned a small lightning bolt, being careful not to make it too large so his strength wouldn't be sapped, and zapped Denes's body with it.

After the white light of the bolt had disappeared, and the smoke had cleared, and Jason's ears had finally stopped ringing, he was able to make out a very charred Denes, hair and clothes black, lying on his back on the floor.

The Arimospi coughed into a fist as Jason approached him to disarm him, not in any particular hurry, and croaked, "Well done. . . ."

Then Denes was somehow back on his feet and slamming Jason to the ground before Jason could say "Holy Jupiter!" Apparently the Arimospi hadn't been showing his full powers yet, either, if a lightning bolt, however small, hadn't phased him.

Denes had one foot firmly pressing against Jason's chest, keeping him sprawled on the ground, his sword raised in the air, aimed at Jason's heart. The Arimospi grinned wickedly.

"This is what happens . . . son of Zeus, I think—when you come between a follower of Hermes and his duty." Denes raised his sword a bit higher, preparing to drive it into Jason's chest.

Jason's eyes flitted to a small movement behind Denes. He almost smiled to himself at the sight.

"And I always thought Mercury was such a nice guy," Jason whined, trying to put on a pouting face. "But it he has followers like this, then . . ."

Confusion flickered in the Arimospi's eye for a moment. "Mercury? Who is that?" he asked.

Then Frank slammed his spear over Denes's head, and the man crumpled, his foot going slack on Jason's chest and he and his sword falling toward the ground, where Jason was laying, so Jason just barely managed to roll out of the way before he sprawled on the ground.

Frank grinned victoriously, his hand holding his spear covered in and dripping blood from the wound the hippalektryon had given him.

Jason glanced over to where he'd last seen Frank and the hippalektryon battling, and there was just a pile of monster dust in place of Denes's strange, pet creature.

Jason turned his gaze back to Denes, who was moaning in his unconsciousness. "By the way, I'm not a son of Zeus," Jason said, and went over to Steve's pile of ash and bent down and picked up the lyre from it, which had somehow fallen from the table Jason had set it on straight into the remains of the monster. A few gray pieces fluttered off of the instrument to the ground. Jason turned his head toward the ceiling and lifted himself into the air, an arm outstretched, fist closed, like Superman, and just before he smashed through the roof of Denes's house, he shouted over his shoulder, "You need to get your Romans straight." He heard a shriek as Frank turned himself into a fruit bat and flew alongside Jason, upward, to freedom. "It's Jupiter."

They broke their way through to outside.

• • •

Jason hoped Denes had seen him all cool-and-confidently fly his way up to the ceiling of his house and smash through the roof, even if he was unconscious, because breaking through glass, wood, and mortar with just his fist and head had hurt.

Lucky Frank the Fruit Bat had just flown through the hole Jason had made in the roof behind Jason.

The two boys (one currently a fruit bat) flew around to the back of the house and landed in a small garden of dead roses, grayish-colored and shriveling. Jason thought the roses were worthy to be planted in Denes's backyard.

Almost as soon as he landed, Frank turned back into a human, coughing and spitting onto the ground and raking at his tongue with his fingers. "I had fur in my mouth! Fur!" he exclaimed. "It was—oh, ugh, gross!—"

He resumed his spitting.

Jason looked down at the instrument in his hands—his and Frank's completion to this small, sort of quest. Their ticket out of here. Apollo had said once one of them picked up the lyre, they and his instrument would return to him. So . . . why wasn't anything happening?

"Frank," Jason started to ask, "how long would you say it took us to retrieve this thing?" He held up the lyre.

Frank stopped spitting for a moment and wiped his hands on his pants as he squinted at the instrument dangling from Jason's hand. "Um, maybe twenty minutes? It seemed shorter, but then our fights with Denes and Steve were very fast-paced. Hey, did you see me battling that hippalektryon?" he asked brightly. "I was like— And then it was like— And then I swiped at it, and. . . . Wait till Hazel hears!"

"Yeah, well," Jason interrupted Frank's excited rantings, "Apollo thought retrieving his lyre would take a half hour, thirty minutes . . . so maybe that's why he hasn't brought us back yet." He motioned again to the lyre and waved it in the air. "I mean, why hasn't his spell brought us back yet? I'm holding the stupid thing!"

"Dude, you're scared, aren't you?" Frank asked nervously.

"Oh, gods, now I've got you worried, too," Jason sighed. He took deep breaths to push back the panic threatening to burst from him and raked a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'm a little . . . nervous. I mean, before, I though Apollo just hadn't got the spell together yet . . . Now. . . ." He let his sentence trail off.

Frank sat down on a rock in the garden, tiredly. He studied his arm, wounded from the hippalektryon. The blood on his fingers had started to dry, but some still seeped from his shoulder. Jason thought it was a wonder that he hadn't taken care of it yet, and was about to suggest he do so, when Frank spoke. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens. I mean, we couldn't be stuck here forever, could we? Hey, wait!" Frank jumped wildly to his feet. "What if this whole thing is a trick? What if Apollo wanted to trap us here for some reason?"

Jason shrugged, then placed both of his hands on the son god's instrument and shook it. "All I know is the next time I see that horrible haiku-reciter, I'm going to have some serious talking to—"

He was abruptly jerked on his feet by a strong force, and he looked over and saw that Frank had been, too, as he was just putting his hands on the sides of the rock he sat on to steady himself.

Frank looked up at Jason and started to say something, his eyes wide and hopeful, when both boys were suddenly tumbling through blackness.

Their return trip was here.

A short thought came to Jason: He wondered if they were going to end up back in the Dairy Queen, and if they did, what people would think of them. Someone would surely wonder about the two disappearing and reappearing boys. Hopefully Apollo had thought of that.

• • •

They did end up at the Dairy Queen, but not sitting at their table inside, from where Apollo had transported them. Instead, they were now in a dirty, smelly alley behind the fast food restaurant, the air hot, dumpsters and buzzing flies and a rotting smell surrounding them.

Apollo was sitting delicately on top of a garbage can, which he had covered with a piece of cardboard, his legs crossed, looking at a shiny silver watch on his wrist.

He didn't even look up as Jason and Frank approached him, blinking in the bright sun, their eyes adjusting from their dark transportation trip. He just muttered, "You're late," and hopped down, somehow gracefully, from his perch, a piece of cardboard still stuck to his pants seat. He walked quickly over to Jason and snatched his lyre from him. "I'll take that." Apollo immediately began fawning over his instrument, stroking it and rubbing it against his cheek, murmuring reassuring things to it like: "There, there. I'll never let you get stollen again." Then he jerked his head away. "You're all dirty! Just wait until I get home and get all this grime off of you, and get you all polished up!" He seemed to have totally forgotten about Jason and Frank standing awkwardly in front of him, and Jason had to clear his throat to get his attention.

"Lord Apollo? Is that all? I believe our favor is complete, so—"

"Oh, yes, I suppose you'll want your reward," Apollo interrupted irritably. He sent one last loving glance at his lyre before turning back to Jason and Frank, saying, "All right. I'll transport you to Camp Half-Blood. I should warn you, though, the camp is not at its best time, though I'm sure you knew that—"

"We know about the battle, sir," Jason nodded.

"And you know I won't transport you anywhere after you're finished at the camp. You'll have to find your own way to return to your friends at the Doors of Death."

"We know, sir." It was Frank's turn to nod.

Apollo, noticing Frank's wounded arm, gave a gasp and cried, "Dear me! What happened to your arm? I hope that wasn't caused by that nasty follower of Hermes. . . . Here, let me just quickly . . ." He snapped his fingers and the blood on Frank's arm, and his shoulder wound, were suddenly gone. Frank looked incredulous but nodded gratefully at Apollo.

"By the way, Lord Apollo, why didn't you bring us back as soon as we touched the harp, like you said you would?" Jason asked, suddenly remembering his irritation with the god, which he had forgotten on their strange meeting.

Apollo shrugged. "Oh, that. Minor difficulties with the spell. I thought Hecate said potion number twenty-three, but it was quite obviously twenty-five. Why?" he asked suddenly. "You didn't get into any trouble or have to go out of your way in anything, did you? Everything went smoothly and according to plan, didn't it?" He looked a bit anxious.

"Oh, yes, sir," Jason answered through gritted teeth, deciding it wasn't worth it to tell him about all the trouble they'd ran into. Now he just wanted to get to get him and Frank to Camp Half-Blood.

Apollo breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, good. You had me worried there for a second."

Frank raised a hand. "Actually—"

Jason kicked him in the shin. "Can we just leave now, sir?" He and Frank were practically bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation.

Apollo sighed. "Demigods. I always forget how impatient they are—but then, I suppose, they only live for so long, and us gods have had thousands of years of time on our hands," he added nicely. "But, as you have successfully completed the favor in returning my lyre to me, I will now complete my favor and transport you two to Camp Half-Blood." He closed his eyes and raised his arms dramatically. Jason and Frank just stood there, nothing happening.

Apollo opened one eye. "Hmm. It'll just take a second, I'm sure." He shoved his hands under his arms, waiting.

Jason let out an angry huff. He was starting to suspect the son god wasn't as good at transporting as he'd boasted. He sensed Frank, restless, also, beside him.

"Got it!" Apollo cried suddenly, and his eyes behind his sunglasses began to glow bright orange, creeping Jason out and scaring Frank, who stumbled behind Jason and put his hands on Jason's shoulders as if he were his protection shield.

"It's working! Any second now!" Apollo declared, though Jason didn't sense anything. "Oh, and I can see the future, too! Your visit to Camp Half-Blood will either turn out victorious, or . . . really bad!" He laughed, and it somehow sounded eerie.

"Um, Apollo, are you sure about this?" Frank asked nervously, still clinging to Jason.

"Of course!" he answered, his arms outstretched and his head turned upward as though preparing to receive a gift from the sky. "You'll transport in your boat, which is probably what you'll use to return to your friends after you're finished at the camp, too. Oh, and I took the liberty to refill your supplies."

"Thank you, sir, but nothing seems to be happening—" Jason started—and he knew he'd spoken too soon as he and Frank suddenly went through the same experience of transporting as before, everything around them changing colors, the noise growing small and tinny. Then all color faded to black, and Jason felt himself sitting on something hard as air swirled around him. It only took a minute before the transporting was finished and he was in a different location. He was blinking against the sunlight and scanning his surroundings, trying to place where he was.

Apollo had spoken the truth. He and Frank were back in their boat, Frank sitting in front of him, the Athena Parthenos safely tied down in the back. The small storage space in the front, where they'd kept their supplies before, was now filled with food and bottles of water and juice. Frank noticed the new addition and immediately took advantage of a banana. Jason raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Frank asked, crossing him arms in protest to Jason's look. "Eating helps me calm down."

"What are you nervous about now?" Jason sighed.

"That." Frank pointed at the ground ahead of them before peeling his banana and biting into it. Jason sat up on his knees to get a better view of the cause of Frank's nervousness and looked ahead. He thought he might need a banana, himself, suddenly feeling anxious.

They floated above trees and grassy hills, and a large, familiar strawberry field. However, unusually, there were no kids in orange shirts or nymphs picking strawberries at the moment. Jason could see why.

Every orange-shirted person in sight was helping form a line on the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood, engaged in fighting the purple-shirted people clad in gold armor, who were trying to break through their line, opposite them. More people with purple cloaks, waving behind them as they ran, were coming up the hill to join in. Jason and Frank started down at the raging battle around Camp Half-Blood.

"It's crazy how they can get past the borders," Jason murmured, watching a boy in a purple shirt, wielding a sword and shouting a Roman war cry, run through Camp Half-Blood's magical boundary, getting instantly pushed back by a few Greeks. At Frank's confused look, Jason remembered he'd never been to Camp Half-Blood, and explained, "The borders are magic to keep out mortals and monsters."

"Well, the Romans are demigods," Frank reminded him. "It wouldn't make sense for them not to be able to get through the borders—unless there's some kind of anti-Roman magic in them."

"Yeah. . . ."

But Frank wasn't really paying attention to his and Jason's conversation, as this was his first time seeing Camp Half-Blood, and he was trying to take it all in, his eyes scanning over everything, from the cabins to the arena to Thalia's pine tree. Jason heard him mutter, "It's so different from Camp Jupiter . . ." and Jason knew what he meant.

"Think you can steer us down?" Jason asked.

"Sure." Frank, in the front of the boat, didn't seem to mind the job of steering it. When they were twenty feet above the ground, a few kids started to spot them, and Jason drew his coin from his pocket, fingering it, after an arrow had whizzed between his and Frank's heads.

"Where do you think we should land?" Frank asked, then answered his own question. "Over there might be an okay— Whoa!" He jumped back, startled, as Jason suddenly jumped over the side of the boat, still hovering at least fifteen feet above the ground, throwing his coin into the air behind him.

Jason landed on the ground and rolled, standing to his feet, then put out his right hand and felt the satisfying weight of his sword land in it. He looked around, the sound of blades clanging in his ears. He'd jumped right into a raging battlefield.