Percy got within five feet and knelt down. “Hi. Sorry we scared you. Look, I don’t have much food, but…”
He took some of the macrobiotic jerky out of his pocket. Ella lunged and snatched it immediately. She huddled back in her nest, sniffing the jerky, but sighed and tossed it away. “N-not from his table. Ella cannot eat. Sad. Jerky would be good for harpies.”“Not from…Oh, right,” Percy said. “That’s part of the curse. You can only eat his food.”
“There has to be a way,” Hazel said.
“‘Photosynthesis,’” Ella muttered. “‘Noun. Biology. The synthesis of complex organic materials.’ ‘It was the best of times, it was the worst of times; it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness... ’”
“What is she saying?” Frank whispered.
Percy stared at the mound of books around her. They all looked old and mildewed. Some had prices written in marker on the covers, like the library had gotten rid of them in a clearance sale.
“She’s quoting books,” Percy guessed.
“Farmer’s Almanac 1965,” Ella said. “‘Start breeding animals, January twenty-sixth.’”
“Ella,” he said, “have you read all of these?”
She blinked. “More. More downstairs. Words. Words calm Ella down. Words, words, words.”
Percy picked up a book at random—a tattered copy ofA History of Horseracing. “Ella, do you remember the, um, third paragraph on page sixty-two—”
“‘Secretariat,’” Ella said instantly, “‘favored three to two-in the 1973 Kentucky Derby, finished at standing track record of one fifty-nine and two fifths.’”
Percy closed the book. His hands were shaking. “Word for word.”
“That’s amazing,” Hazel said.
“She’s a genius chicken,” Frank agreed.
Percy felt uneasy. He was starting to form a terrible idea about why Phineas wanted to capture Ella, and it wasn’t because she’d scratched him. Percy remembered that line she’d recited, A half-blood of the eldest gods. He was sure it was about him.
“Ella,” he said, “we’re going to find a way to break the curse. Would you like that?”
“‘It’s Impossible,’” she said. “‘Recorded in English by Perry Como, 1970.’”
“Nothing’s impossible,” Percy said. “Now, look, I’m going to say his name. You don’t have to run away. We’re going to save you from the curse. We just need to figure out a way to beat ... Phineas.”
He waited for her to bolt, but she just shook her head vigorously. “N-n-no! No Phineas. Ella is quick. Too quick for him. B-but he wants to ch-chain Ella. He hurts Ella.”
She tried to reach the gash on her back.
“Frank,” Percy said, “you have first-aid supplies?”
“On it.” Frank brought out a thermos full of nectar and explained its healing properties to Ella. When he scooted closer, she recoiled and started to shriek. Then Hazel tried, and Ella let her pour some nectar on her back. The wound began to close.
Hazel smiled. “See? That’s better.”
“Phineas is bad,” Ella insisted. “And weed whackers. And cheese.”
“Absolutely,” Percy agreed. “We won’t let him hurt youagain. We need to figure out how to trick him, though. You harpies must know him better than anybody. Is there any way we can trick him?”
“N-no,” Ella said. “Tricks are for kids. 50 Tricks to Teach Your Dog, by Sophie Collins, call number six-three-six—”
“Okay, Ella.” Hazel spoke in a soothing voice, like she was trying to calm a horse. “But does Phineas have any weaknesses?”
“Blind. He’s blind.”
Frank rolled his eyes, but Hazel continued patiently, “Right. Besides that?”
“Chance,” she said. “Games of chance. Two to one. Bad odds. Call or fold.”
Percy’s spirits rose. “You mean he’s a gambler?”
“Phineas s-sees big things. Prophecies. Fates. God stuff. Not small stuff. Random. Exciting. And he is blind.”
Frank rubbed his chin. “Any idea what she means?”
Percy watched the harpy pick at her burlap dress. He felt incredibly sorry for her, but he was also starting to realize just how smart she was.
“I think I get it,” he said. “Phineas sees the future. He knows tons of important events. But he can’t see small things—like random occurrences, spontaneous games of chance. That makes gambling exciting for him. If we can tempt him into making a bet…”
Hazel nodded slowly. “You mean if he loses, he has to tell us where Thanatos is. But what do we have to wager? What kind of game do we play?”
“Something simple, with high stakes,” Percy said. “Like two choices. One you live, one you die. And the prize has to be something Phineas wants…I mean, besides Ella. That’s off the table.”
“Sight,” Ella muttered. “Sight is good for blind men.
Healing…nope, nope. Gaea won’t do that for Phineas. Gaea keeps Phineas b-blind, dependent on Gaea. Yep.”
Frank and Percy exchanged a meaningful look. “Gorgon’s blood,” they said simultaneously.