“You’re Ares,” Percy said. “What do you want?” A collective gasp went up from two hundred campers and an elephant. Frank wanted to say something to excuse Percy and placate the god, but he didn’t know what. He was afraid the war god would blast his new friend with that extra-large M16. Instead, the god bared his brilliant white teeth. “You’ve got spunk, demigod,” he said. “Ares is my Greek form. But to these followers, to the children of Rome, I am Mars—patron of the empire, divine father of Romulus and Remus.” “We’ve met,” Percy said. “We…we had a fight.…”
