“Uh…sorry about the fountain,” he managed. “We were just—”
“Oh, I know!” the girl said. “You want to browse. It’s all right. Demigods are welcome. Take your time. You’re not like those awful monsters. They just want to use the restroom and never buy anything!”
She snorted. Her eyes flashed with lightning. Frank glanced at Hazel to see if he’d imagined it, but Hazel looked just as surprised.
From the back of the store, a woman’s voice called: “Fleecy? Don’t scare the customers, now. Bring them here, will you?”
“Your name is Fleecy?” Hazel asked.
Fleecy giggled. “Well, in the language of the nebulae it’s actually—” She made a series of crackling and blowing noises that reminded Frank of a thunderstorm giving way to a nice cold front. “But you can call me Fleecy.”
“Nebulae. . .” Percy muttered in a daze. “Cloud nymphs.”
Fleecy beamed. “Oh, I like this one! Usually no one knows about cloud nymphs. But dear me, he doesn’t look so good. Come to the back. My boss wants to meet you. We’ll get your friend fixed up.”
Fleecy led them through the produce aisle, between rows of eggplants, kiwis, lotus fruit, and pomegranates. At the back of the store, behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register, stood a middle-aged woman with olive skin, long black hair, rimless glasses, and a T-shirt that read: The Goddess Is Alive! She wore amber necklaces and turquoise rings. She smelled like rose petals.
She looked friendly enough, but something about her made Frank feel shaky, like he wanted to cry. It took him a second, then he realized what it was—the way she smiled with just one corner of her mouth, the warm brown color of her eyes, the tilt of her head, like she was considering a question. She reminded Frank of his mother.
“Hello!” She leaned over the counter, which was lined with dozens of little statues—waving Chinese cats, meditating Buddhas, Saint Francis bobble heads, and novelty dippy drinking birds with top hats. “So glad you’re here. I’m Iris!”
Hazel’s eyes widened. “Not the Iris—the rainbow goddess?”
Iris made a face. “Well, that’s my official job, yes. But I don’t define myself by my corporate identity. In my spare time, I run this!” She gestured around her proudly. “The R.O.F.L. Co-op—an employee-run cooperative promoting healthy alternative lifestyles and organic foods.”
Frank stared at her. “But you throw Ding Dongs at monsters.”
Iris looked horrified. “Oh, they’re not Ding Dongs.” She rummaged under the counter and brought out a package of chocolate-covered cakes that looked exactly like Ding Dongs. “These are gluten-free, no-sugar-added, vitamin-enriched, soy-free, goat-milk-and-seaweed-based cupcake simulations.”
“All natural!” Fleecy chimed in.
“I stand corrected.” Frank suddenly felt as queasy as Percy.
Iris smiled. “You should try one, Frank. You’re lactose intolerant, aren’t you?”
“How did you—”
“I know these things. Being the messenger goddess…well, I do learn a lot, hearing all the communications from the gods and so on.” She tossed the cakes on the counter. “Besides, those monsters should be glad to have some healthy snacks. Always eating junk food and heroes. They’re so unenlightened. I couldn’t have them tromping through my store, tearing up things and disturbing our feng shui.”
Percy leaned against the counter. He looked like he was going to throw up all over the goddess’s feng shui. “Monsters marching south,” he said with difficulty. “Going to destroy our camp. Couldn’t you stop them?”
“Oh, I’m strictly nonviolent,” Iris said. “I can act in self-defense, but I won’t be drawn into any more Olympian aggression, thank you very much. I’ve been reading about Buddhism. And Taoism. I haven’t decided between them.”
“But…” Hazel looked mystified. “Aren’t you a Greek goddess?”
Iris crossed her arms. “Don’t try to put me in a box, demigod! I’m not defined by my past.”
“Um, okay,” Hazel said. “Could you at least help our friend here? I think he’s sick.”
Percy reached across the counter. For a second Frank was afraid he wanted the cupcakes. “Iris-message,” he said. “Can you send one?”
Frank wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Iris-message?”
“It’s…” Percy faltered. “Isn’t that something you do?”
Iris studied Percy more closely. “Interesting. You’re from Camp Jupiter, and yet…Oh, I see. Juno is up to her tricks.”
“What?” Hazel asked.
Iris glanced at her assistant, Fleecy. They seemed to have a silent conversation. Then the goddess pulled a vial from behind the counter and sprayed some honeysuckle-smelling oil around Percy’s face. “There, that should balance your chakra. As for Iris-messages—that’s an ancient way of communication. The Greeks used it. The Romans never took to it—always relying on their road systems and giant eagles and whatnot. But yes, I imagine…Fleecy, could you give it a try?”