Chapter 11

We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day.

So there we were, Anthony and Gretel and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses,

Gretel was shivering and brown leaves falling from her hair, and her big green eyes turn brown and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Anthony kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better."

"All our money was back there," I reminded him. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"

"You didn't need to protect me, Perci. I would've been fine."

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Gretel put in, "but fine."

"Shut up, Sunflower," said Anthony.

Gretel groaned mournfully. "Fruit...a perfectly good bag of fruit."

We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

After a few minutes, Anthony fell into line next to me. "Look, I…" His voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave."

"We're a team, right?"

He was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died...aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn't see anything of Anthony expect a glint of his blond hair.

"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked him.

"No...only short field trips. My dad—"

"The history professor."

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." He was fishing his words out now, as if he were afraid somebody might try to stop him. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not."

If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in his voice.

"You're pretty good with that knife," I said.

"You think so?"

"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

I couldn't really see, but I thought he might've smiled.

"You know," he said, "maybe I should tell you...something funny back on the bus…"

Whatever he wanted to say was interrupted by a echoed ahh-ahh-ahh, like a girl practicing her singing, but out of practice.

"Practicing my singing," Gretel said. "If I could just member a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!"

She sang a long note, but it sounded kind of tone deaf like a cat being choked to death.

Instead of finding a path, I immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on my head.

Add to the list of superpowers I did not have: infrared vision.

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. I know Gretel can create fruit, but this girl needed a double cheeseburger.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell.

It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English.

To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.

"What the heck does that say?"

"I don't know," Anthony said.

He loved reading so much, I'd forgotten he was dyslexic, too.

Gretel translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little rents, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.

"Hey…" Gretel warned.

"The lights are on inside," Anthony said. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," I said wistfully.

"Snack bar," he agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grete said. "This place is weird."

We ignored her.

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement women who had a vine whip, much like Gretel's, she looked like she was ready to whip something.

"Looks like my Aunt Juniper." She said.

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Gretel pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your high trained nose is clogged up from the Furies," Anthony told her. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" She said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas," I reminded her.

"That has vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are...looking at me."

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle-Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

"They're...um…" Anthony started to say.

"We're orphans," I said.

"Orphans?" The woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"We got separated from our caravan," I said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"

"Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

We thanked her and went inside.

Anthony muttered to me, "Circus caravan?"

"Always have a strategy, right?"

"Your head is full of kelp."

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, I was thinking about food.

Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because I was hungry, but I do impulsive stuff sometimes. Plus, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away. I barely noticed Gretel's nervous whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us.

All I cared about was finding the dining area. And sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front.

"Please, sit down," Aunty Em said.

"Awesome," I said.

"Um," Gretel said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."

Before I could jab her in the ribs, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

"Thank you, ma'am," Anthony said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Anthony had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, so I figured it must've been my imagination.

"Quite all right, Anthony," she said. "You have such attractive gray eyes, child." Only later did I wonder how she knew Anthony's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. She then looked at me, and she smiled a little. "And you have such beautiful green eyes, Perci." She brushed her fingers on my blue hair streak, and gazed into my eyes like she was admiring my beauty, or I probably reminded her of someone she used to date.

Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

I was halfway through my burger before I remembered to breathe.

Anthony slurped his shake.

Gretel picked at the fries, but I know she's not a big fan of fries, but she still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" She asked.

I listened, but didn't hear anything. Anthony shook his head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Gretel."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her head-dress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, but I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess.

"So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built...most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Anthony had stopped eating. He sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Anthony, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a...a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I felt bad for her. My eyelids kept getting heavier, my full stomach making me sleepy. Poor old lady. Who would want to hurt somebody so nice?

"Perci?" Anthony was shaking me to get my attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting."

He sounded tense. I wasn't sure why. Gretel was eating an apple, which she probably made appear out of the stone floor, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.

"Such attractive gray eyes," Aunty Em told Anthony again. "My, yes, it has been such a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She then looked at me again. "Such beautiful green eyes, my dear. I once loved a man with green eyes like those, and they were greener than the Mediterranean sea, much like yours."

She reached out and stroke my cheek, but then Anthony stood up abruptly.

"We really should go."

"Yes!" Gretel swallowed her apple, and tossed it away as she stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"

I didn't want to leave. I felt full and content. Aunty Em was so nice. I wanted to stay with her a while.

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Anthony asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

Anthony shifted his weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Perci—"

"Sure we can," I said. I was irritated with Anthony for being bossy, so rude to an old lady who'd just fed us for free. "It's just a photo, Anthony. What's the harm?"

"Yes, Anthony," the woman purred. "No harm."

I could tell Anthony didn't like it, but he allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone whip-armed woman. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young man in the middle, I think, and the two young ladies on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," I remarked.

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Gretel asked.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Gretel glanced at the cement woman with the whip next to her, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Aunt Juniper."

"Gretel," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear."

She still had no camera in her hands.

"Perci—" Anthony said.

Some instinct warned me to listen to Anthony, but I was fighting the sleepy feeling, the comfortable lull that came from the food and the old lady's voice.

"I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil…"

"Perci, something's wrong," Anthony insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That is Aunt Juniper!" Gretel gasped.

"Look away from her!" Anthony shouted. He whipped his Yankees cap onto his head and vanished. His invisible hands used Gretel and me both off the bench.

I was on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet.

I could hear Gretel scrambling off in one direction, Anthony in the another. But I was too dazed to move.

Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.

I almost looked higher, but somewhere off to my left Anthony screamed, "No! Don't!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from...from where Aunty Em's head would be.

"Run!" Gretel yelled. I heard her racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" To kick-start her flying sneakers.

I couldn't move. I stared at Aunty Em's gnarled claws, and tried to fight the groggy trance the old woman had put me in.

"Such a pity to destroy a beautiful young face," she told me soothingly. "Stay with me, Perci. All you have to do is look up."

I fought the urge to obey. Instead I looked to one side and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens—a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents.

Aunty Em.

Aunty "M."

How could I have been so stupid?

Think, I told myself. How did Medusa die in the myth?

But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face.

"The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Perci," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Anthony's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."

"Don't listen to her!" Anthony's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Run, Perci!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the boy, Perci. He is my enemy's son. I shall crush his statue to dust. But you, dear Perci, you need not suffer."

"No," I muttered. I tried to make my legs move.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Perci? What will happen if you reach the underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dearest. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

"Perci!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Gretel yelled, "Duck!"

I turned, and there she was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with her winged shoes fluttering, Gretel, holding her green vine whip. Her eyes were shut tight, her head twitched from side to side. She was navigating by ears and nose alone.

"Duck!" She yelled again. "I'll get her!"

That finally jolted me into action. Knowing Gretel, I was sure she'd miss Medusa and nail me. I dove to one side.

Swap!

At first I figured it was the sound of her whipping Medusa somewhere. Then Medusa roared with rage.

"You miserable nymph," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Aunt Juniper!" Gretel yelled back.

I scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Gretel swooped down for another pass.

Ker-whack!

"Arch!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.

Right next to me, Anthony's voice said, "Perci!"

I jumped so high my feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!"

Anthony took off his Yankees cap and became visible. "You have to cut her head off."

"What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but…" Anthony swallowed, as if he were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance."

"What? I can't—"

"Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?"

He pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster.

Anthony grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." He studied the sphere critically. "The convex its will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"

"Would you speak English?"

"I am!" He tossed me the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."

"Hey, guys!" Gretel yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Maybe not," Gretel corrected. She went in for another pass as I heard a snap of a whip.

"Hurry," Anthony told me. "Gretel's got great senses, but she'll eventually crash."

I took out my pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide elongated in my hand.

I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair.

I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her.

Gretel was coming in for another turn at whip, but this time when she swings her whip, Medusa lets out her hand, and it wraps itself around and she pulled her off course. She tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone. Grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

Medusa was about to lunge at her when I yelled, "Hey!"

I advanced on her, which wasn't easy, holding a sword and a glass ball. If she charged, I'd have a hard time defending myself.

But she let me approached—twenty feet, ten feet.

I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be disorienting it, making it look worse.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Perci," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't."

I hesitated, fascinated by the face I saw reflected in the glass—the eyes that seemed to burn straight through the green tint, making making my arms go weak.

From the cement grizzly, Gretel moaned, "Perci, don't listen to her!"

Medusa cackled. "Too late."

She lunged at me with her talons.

I slashed up with my sword, heard a sickening schlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating.

Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces.

"Oh, yuck," Gretel said. Her eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess she could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck."

Anthony came up next to me, his eyes fixed on the sky. He was holding Medusa's black veil. He said, "Don't move."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, he knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

"Are you okay?" He asked me, his voice trembling.

"Yeah," I decided, though I felt like throwing up my double cheeseburger. "Why didn't...why didn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," he said. "Same as your Minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

Gretel moaned as she climbed down from the grizzly statue. She had a big welt on her forehead. Her hair was knotted a little from flying, and the magic sneakers, with soil in them, were flying aimlessly around her head.

"The Red Baron," I said. "Good job, girl."

She managed a bashful grin as she whipped her whip and wraps it around her shoulder like a strap. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the whacking-her-with-a-whip part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."

She snatched her shoes out of the air. I recapped my sword. Together, the three of us stumbled back to the warehouse.

We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

Finally I said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

Anthony flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."

My face was burning. "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa."

Anthony straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, he said: "It's just a photo, Anthony. What's the harm?"

"Forget it," I said. "You're impossible."

"You're insufferable."

"You're—"

"Hey!" Gretel interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and nymphs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?"

I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!

I was angry, not just at Anthony or his mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice.

What had Medusa said?

Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dearest. You would be better off as a statue.

I got up. "I'll be back."

"Perci," Anthony called after me. "What are you—"

I searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and my namesake, Persephone's, garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket.

In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes. Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. I rummaged around the rest of the office until I found the right-size box.

I went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip:

The Gods
Mount Olympus
600th Floor,
Empire State Building
New York, NY

With best wishes,
Perci Jackson

"They're not going to like that," Gretel warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."

I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!

"I am impertinent," I said.

I looked at Anthony, daring him to criticize.

He didn't. He seemed resigned to the fact that I had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Come on," he muttered. "We need a new plan."