RICK RIORDAN - Reading Studios · Rick Riordan is the creator of the award-winning ... Not all the...
Transcript of RICK RIORDAN - Reading Studios · Rick Riordan is the creator of the award-winning ... Not all the...
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
RickRiordanisthecreatoroftheaward-winning,bestsellingPercyJacksonseriesandthethrillingKaneChroniclesseries.AccordingtoRick,theideaforthePercyJacksonstorieswasinspiredbyhissonHaley.ButrumourhasitthatCampHalf-Bloodactuallyexists,andRickspendshissummersthererecordingtheadventuresofyoungdemigods.Somebelievethat,toavoidamasspanicamongthemortalpopulation,hewasforcedtoswearontheRiverStyxtopresentPercyJackson’sstoryasfiction.RicklivesinTexas(apartfromhissummersonHalf-BloodHill)withhiswifeandtwosons.TolearnmoreabouthimandthePercyJacksonandKaneChroniclesseries,visit:www.rickriordanmythmaster.co.uk
BooksbyRickRiordan
ThePercyJacksonseries:
PERCYJACKSONANDTHELIGHTNINGTHIEF
PERCYJACKSONANDTHESEAOFMONSTERS
PERCYJACKSONANDTHETITAN’SCURSE
PERCYJACKSONANDTHEBATTLEOFTHELABYRINTH
PERCYJACKSONANDTHELASTOLYMPIAN
PERCYJACKSON:THEDEMIGODFILES
TheHeroesofOlympusseries:
THELOSTHERO
THESONOFNEPTUNE
THEMARKOFATHENA
HEROESOFOLYMPUS:THEDEMIGODFILES
TheKaneChroniclesseries:
THEREDPYRAMID
THETHRONEOFFIRE
THESERPENT’SSHADOW
TheSonofSobek
GETTINGEATENBYAGIANTCROCODILEwasbadenough.
Thekidwiththeglowingswordonlymademydayworse.
MaybeIshouldintroducemyself.
I’mCarterKane–part-timehigh-schoolfreshman,part-timemagician,full-timeworrieraboutalltheEgyptiangodsandmonsterswhoareconstantlytryingtokillme.
Okay,thatlastpartisanexaggeration.Notallthegodswantmedead.Justalotofthem–butthatkindofgoeswiththeterritory,sinceI’mamagicianintheHouseofLife.We’relikethepoliceforAncientEgyptiansupernaturalforces,makingsuretheydon’tcausetoomuchhavocinthemodernworld.
Anyway,onthisparticulardayIwastrackingdownaroguemonsteronLongIsland.Ourscryershadbeensensingmagicaldisturbancesintheareaforseveralweeks.ThenthelocalnewsstartedreportingthatalargecreaturehadbeensightedinthepondsandmarshesneartheMontaukHighway–acreaturethatwaseatingthewildlifeandscaringthelocals.OnereporterevencalledittheLongIslandSwampMonster.Whenmortalsstartraisingthealarm,youknowit’stimetocheckthingsout.
Normallymysister,Sadie,orsomeofourotherinitiatesfromBrooklynHousewould’vecomewithme.ButtheywereallattheFirstNomeinEgyptforaweek-longtrainingsessiononcontrollingcheesedemons(yes,they’rearealthing–believeme,youdon’twanttoknow),soIwasonmyown.
IhitchedourflyingreedboattoFreak,mypetgriffin,andwespentthemorningbuzzingaroundthesouthshore,lookingforsignsoftrouble.Ifyou’rewonderingwhyIdidn’tjustrideonFreak’sback,imaginetwohummingbird-likewingsbeatingfasterandmorepowerfullythanhelicopterblades.Unlessyouwanttogetshredded,it’sreallybettertorideintheboat.
Freakhadaprettygoodnoseformagic.Afteracoupleofhoursonpatrol,heshrieked,‘FREEEEEEK!’andbankedhardtotheleft,circlingoveragreenmarshyinletbetweentwoneighbourhoods.
‘Downthere?’Iasked.
Freakshiveredandsquawked,whippinghisbarbedtailnervously.
Icouldn’tseemuchbelowus–justabrownriverglitteringinthehotsummerair,windingthroughswampgrassandclumpsofgnarledtreesuntilitemptiedintoMorichesBay.ThearealookedabitliketheNileDeltabackinEgypt,exceptherethewetlandsweresurroundedonbothsidesbyresidentialneighbourhoodswithrowafterrowofgrey-roofedhouses.Justtothenorth,alineofcarsinchedalongtheMontaukHighway–vacationersescapingthecrowdsinthecitytoenjoythecrowdsintheHamptons.
Iftherereallywasacarnivorousswampmonsterbelowus,Iwonderedhowlongitwouldbebeforeitdevelopedatasteforhumans.Ifthathappened…well,itwassurroundedbyanall-you-can-eatbuffet.
‘Okay,’ItoldFreak.‘Setmedownbytheriverbank.’
AssoonasIsteppedoutoftheboat,Freakscreechedandzoomedintothesky,theboattrailingbehindhim.
‘Hey!’Iyelledafterhim,butitwastoolate.
Freakiseasilyspooked.Flesh-eatingmonsterstendtoscarehimaway.Sodofireworks,clownsandthesmellofSadie’sweirdBritishRibenadrink.(Can’tblamehimonthatlastone.SadiegrewupinLondonanddevelopedsomeprettystrangetastes.)
Iwouldhavetotakecareofthismonsterproblem,thenwhistleforFreaktopickmeuponceIwasdone.
Iopenedmybackpackandcheckedmysupplies:someenchantedrope,mycurvedivorywand,alumpofwaxformakingamagicalshabtifigurine,mycalligraphysetandahealingpotionmyfriendJazhadbrewedformeawhileback.(SheknewthatIgothurtalot.)
TherewasjustonemorethingIneeded.
IconcentratedandreachedintotheDuat.Overthelastfewmonths,I’dgotbetteratstoringemergencyprovisionsintheshadowrealm–extraweapons,cleanclothes,FruitbytheFootandchilledsix-packsofrootbeer–butstickingmyhandintoamagicaldimensionstillfeltweird,likepushingthroughlayersofcold,heavycurtains.Iclosedmyfingersroundthehiltofmyswordandpulleditout–aweightykhopeshwithabladecurvedlikeaquestionmark.Armedwithmyswordandwand,Iwasallsetforastrollthroughtheswamptolookforahungrymonster.Oh,joy!
Iwadedintothewaterandimmediatelysanktomyknees.Theriverbottomfeltlikecongealedstew.Witheverystep,myshoesmadesuchrudenoises–suck-plop,suck-plop–thatIwasgladSadiewasn’twithme.Sheneverwould’vestoppedlaughing.
Evenworse,makingthismuchnoise,IknewIwouldn’tbeabletosneakuponanymonsters.
Mosquitoesswarmedme.SuddenlyIfeltnervousandalone.
Couldbeworse,Itoldmyself.Icouldbestudyingcheesedemons.
ButIcouldn’tquiteconvincemyself.Inanearbyneighbourhood,Iheardkidsshoutingandlaughing,probablyplayingsomekindofgame.Iwonderedwhatthatwouldbelike–beinganormalkid,hangingoutwithmyfriendsonasummerafternoon.
TheideawassoniceIgotdistracted.Ididn’tnoticetheripplesinthewateruntilfiftyyardsaheadofmesomethingbrokethesurface–alineofleatheryblackish-greenbumps.Instantlyitsubmergedagain,butIknewwhatIwasdealingwithnow.I’dseencrocodilesbefore,andthiswasafreakishlybigone.
IrememberedElPaso,thewinterbeforelast,whenmysisterandIhadbeenattackedbythecrocodilegodSobek.Thatwasn’tagoodmemory.
Sweattrickleddownmyneck.
‘Sobek,’Imurmured,‘ifthat’syou,messingwithmeagain,IsweartoRa…’
Thecrocgodhadpromisedtoleaveusalonenowthatweweretightwithhisboss,thesungod.Still…crocodilesgethungry.Thentheytendtoforgettheirpromises.
Noanswerfromthewater.Theripplessubsided.
Whenitcametosensingmonsters,mymagicinstinctsweren’tverysharp,butthewaterinfrontofmeseemedmuchdarker.Thatmeanteitheritwasdeep,orsomethinglargewaslurkingunderthesurface.
IalmosthopeditwasSobek.AtleastthenIstoodachanceoftalkingtohimbeforehekilledme.Sobeklovedtoboast.
Unfortunately,itwasn’thim.
Thenextmicrosecond,asthewatereruptedaroundme,IrealizedtoolatethatIshould’vebroughttheentireTwenty-firstNometohelpme.Iregisteredglowingyelloweyesasbigasmyhead,theglintofgoldjewelleryroundamassiveneck.Thenmonstrousjawsopened–ridgesofcrookedteethandanexpanseofpinkmawwideenoughtogulpdownagarbagetruck.
Andthecreatureswallowedmewhole.
Imaginebeingshrink-wrappedupsidedowninsideagiganticslimygarbagebagwithnoair.Beinginthemonster’sbellywaslikethat,onlyhotterandsmellier.
ForamomentIwastoostunnedtodoanything.Icouldn’tbelieveIwasstillalive.Ifthecrocodile’smouthhadbeensmaller,hemighthavesnappedmeinhalf.Asitwas,hehadgulpedmedowninasingleCarter-sizeserving,soIcouldlookforwardtobeingslowlydigested.
Lucky,right?
Themonsterstartedthrashingaround,whichmadeithardtothink.Iheldmybreath,knowingthatitmightbemylast.Istillhadmyswordandwand,butIcouldn’tusethemwithmyarmspinnedtomyside.Icouldn’treachanyofthestuffinmybag.
Whichleftonlyoneanswer:awordofpower.IfIcouldthinkoftherighthieroglyphicsymbolandspeakitaloud,Icouldsummonsomeindustrial-strengthwrath-of-the-gods-typemagictobustmywayoutofthisreptile.
Intheory:agreatsolution.
Inpractice:I’mnotsogoodatwordsofpowereveninthebestofsituations.Suffocatinginsideadark,smellyreptilegulletwasn’thelpingmefocus.
Youcandothis,Itoldmyself.
AfterallthedangerousadventuresI’dhad,Icouldn’tdielikethis.Sadiewouldbedevastated.Then,onceshegotoverhergrief,she’dtrackdownmysoulintheEgyptianafterlifeandteasememercilesslyforhowstupidI’dbeen.
Mylungsburned.Iwasblackingout.Ipickedawordofpower,summonedallmyconcentrationandpreparedtospeak.
Suddenlythemonsterlurchedupwards.Heroared,whichsoundedreallyweirdfromtheinside,andhisthroatcontractedroundmelikeIwasbeingsqueezedfromatoothpastetube.Ishotoutofthecreature’smouthandtumbledintothemarshgrass.
SomehowIgottomyfeet.Istaggeredaround,halfblind,gaspingandcoveredwithcrocodilegoo,whichsmelledlikeascummyfishtank.
Thesurfaceoftheriverchurnedwithbubbles.Thecrocodilewasgone,butstandinginthemarshabouttwentyfeetawaywasateenageguyinjeansandafadedorangeT-shirtthatsaidCAMPsomething.Icouldn’treadtherest.Helookedalittleolderthanme–maybeseventeen–withtousledblackhairandsea-greeneyes.Whatreallycaughtmyattentionwashissword–astraightdouble-edgedbladeglowingwithfaintbronzelight.
I’mnotsurewhichofuswasmoresurprised.
Forasecond,CamperBoyjuststaredatme.Henotedmykhopeshandwand,andIgotthefeelingthatheactuallysawthesethingsastheywere.Normalmortalshavetroubleseeingmagic.Theirbrainscan’tinterpretit,sotheymightlookatmysword,forinstance,andseeabaseballbatorawalkingstick.
Butthiskid…hewasdifferent.Ifiguredhemustbeamagician.TheonlyproblemwasI’dmetmostofthemagiciansintheNorthAmericannomes,andI’dneverseenthisguybefore.I’dalsoneverseenaswordlikethat.Everythingabouthimseemed…un-Egyptian.
‘Thecrocodile,’Isaid,tryingtokeepmyvoicecalmandeven.‘Wherediditgo?’
CamperBoyfrowned.‘You’rewelcome.’
‘What?’
‘Istuckthatcrocintherump.’Hemimickedtheactionwithhissword.‘That’swhyitvomitedyouup.So,you’rewelcome.Whatwereyoudoinginthere?’
I’lladmitIwasn’tinthebestmood.Ismelled.Ihurt.And,yeah,Iwasalittleembarrassed:themightyCarterKane,headofBrooklynHouse,hadbeendisgorgedfromacroc’smouthlikeagianthairball.
‘Iwasresting,’Isnapped.‘WhatdoyouthinkIwasdoing?Now,whoareyou,andwhyareyoufightingmymonster?’
‘Yourmonster?’Theguytrudgedtowardsmethroughthewater.Hedidn’tseemtohaveanytroublewiththemud.‘Look,man,Idon’tknowwhoyouare,butthatcrocodilehasbeenterrorizingLongIslandforweeks.Itakethatkindofpersonally,asthisismyhometurf.Afewdaysago,itateoneofourpegasi.’
AjoltwentupmyspinelikeI’dbackedintoanelectricfence.‘Didyousaypegasi?’
Hewavedthequestionaside.‘Isityourmonsterornot?’
‘Idon’townit!’Igrowled.‘I’mtryingtostopit!Now,where–’
‘Thecrocheadedthatway.’Hepointedhisswordtothesouth.‘Iwouldalreadybechasingit,butyousurprisedme.’
Hesizedmeup,whichwasdisconcertingsincehewashalfafoottaller.Istillcouldn’treadhisT-shirtexceptforthewordCAMP.Roundhisneckhungaleatherstrapwithsomecolourfulclaybeads,likeakid’sarts-and-craftsproject.Hewasn’tcarryingamagician’spackorawand.MaybehekeptthemintheDuat?Ormaybehewasjustadelusionalmortalwho’daccidentallyfoundamagicswordandthoughthewasasuperhero.Ancientrelicscanreallymesswithyourmind.
Finallyheshookhishead.‘Igiveup.SonofAres?You’vegottobeahalf-blood,butwhathappenedtoyoursword?It’sallbent.’
‘It’sakhopesh.’Myshockwasrapidlyturningtoanger.‘It’ssupposedtobecurved.’
ButIwasn’tthinkingaboutthesword.
CamperBoyhadjustcalledmeahalf-blood?MaybeIhadn’theardhimright.Maybehemeantsomethingelse.ButmydadwasAfrican-American.Mymomwaswhite.Half-bloodwasn’tawordIliked.
‘Justgetoutofhere,’Isaid,grittingmyteeth.‘I’vegotacrocodiletocatch.’
‘Dude,Ihavetocatchthecrocodile,’heinsisted.‘Lasttimeyoutried,itateyou.Remember?’
Myfingerstightenedroundmyswordhilt.‘Ihadeverythingundercontrol.Iwasabouttosummonafist–’
Forwhathappenednext,Itakefullresponsibility.
Ididn’tmeanit.Honestly.ButIwasangry.And,asImayhavementioned,I’mnotalwaysgoodatchannellingwordsofpower.WhileIwasinthecrocodile’sbelly,I’dbeenpreparingtosummontheFistofHorus:agiantglowingbluehandthatcanpulverizedoors,wallsandprettymuchanythingelsethatgetsinyourway.Myplanhadbeentopunchmywayoutofthemonster.Gross,yes,buthopefullyeffective.
Iguessthatspellwasstillinmyhead,readytobetriggeredlikealoadedgun.FacingCamperBoy,Iwasfurious,nottomentioneddazedandconfused;sowhenImeanttosaytheEnglishwordfistitcameoutinAncientEgyptianinstead:khefa.
Suchasimplehieroglyph:
Youwouldn’tthinkitcouldcausesomuchtrouble.
AssoonasIspoketheword,thesymbolblazedintheairbetweenus.AgiantfistthesizeofadishwashershimmeredintoexistenceandslammedCamperBoyintothenextcounty.
ImeanIliterallypunchedhimoutofhisshoes.Herocketedfromtheriverwithaloudsuck-plop!AndthelastthingIsawwashisbarefeetachievingescapevelocityasheflewbackwardsanddisappearedfromsight.
No,Ididn’tfeelgoodaboutit.Well…maybeatinybitgood.ButIalsofeltmortified.Eveniftheguywasajerk,magiciansweren’tsupposedtogoaroundsucker-punchingkidsintoorbitwiththeFistofHorus.
‘Oh,great.’Ihitmyselfontheforehead.
Istartedtowadeacrossthemarsh,worriedthatI’dactuallykilledtheguy.‘Man,I’msorry!’Iyelled,hopinghecouldhearme.‘Areyou–?’
Thewavecameoutofnowhere.
Atwenty-footwallofwaterslammedintomeandpushedmebackintotheriver.Icameupspluttering,ahorribletastelikefishfoodinmymouth.IblinkedthegunkoutofmyeyesjustintimetoseeCamperBoyleapingtowardsmeninja-style,hisswordraised.
Iliftedmykhopeshtodeflecttheblow.Ijustmanagedtokeepmyheadfrombeingcleavedinhalf,butCamperBoywasstrongandquick.AsIreeledbackwards,hestruckagainandagain.Eachtime,Iwasabletoparry,butIcouldtellIwasoutmatched.Hisbladewaslighterandquicker,and–yes,I’lladmitit–hewasabetterswordsman.
IwantedtoexplainthatI’dmadeamistake.Iwasn’treallyhisenemy.ButIneededallmyconcentrationjusttokeepfromgettingsliceddownthemiddle.
CamperBoy,however,hadnotroubletalking.
‘NowIgetit,’hesaid,swingingatmyhead.‘You’resomekindofmonster.’
CLANG!Iinterceptedthestrikeandstaggeredback.
‘I’mnotamonster,’Imanaged.
Tobeatthisguy,I’dhavetousemorethanjustasword.TheproblemwasIdidn’twanttohurthim.DespitethefactthathewastryingtochopmeintoaKane-flavouredbarbecuesandwich,Istillfeltbadforstartingthefight.
Heswungagain,andIhadnochoice.Iusedmywandthistime,catchinghisbladeinthecrookofivoryandchannellingaburstofmagicstraightuphisarm.Theairbetweenusflashedandcrackled.CamperBoystumbledback.Bluesparksofsorcerypoppedaroundhim,asifmyspelldidn’tknowquitewhattodowithhim.Whowasthisguy?
‘Yousaidthecrocodilewasyours.’CamperBoyscowled,angerblazinginhisgreeneyes.‘Youlostyourpet,Isuppose.Maybeyou’reaspiritfromtheUnderworld,comethroughtheDoorsofDeath?’
BeforeIcouldevenprocessthatquestion,hethrustouthisfreehand.Theriverreversedcourseandsweptmeoffmyfeet.
Imanagedtogetup,butIwasgettingreallytiredofdrinkingswampwater.Meanwhile,CamperBoychargedagain,hisswordraisedforthekill.Indesperation,Idroppedmywand.Ithrustmyhandintomybackpack,andmyfingersclosedroundthepieceofrope.
Ithrewitandyelledthecommandword‘TAS!’–bind–justasCamperBoy’sbronzebladecutintomywrist.
Mywholearmeruptedinagony.Myvisiontunnelled.Yellowspotsdancedbeforemyeyes.Idroppedmyswordandclutchedmywrist,gaspingforbreath,everythingforgottenexcepttheexcruciatingpain.
Inthebackofmymind,IknewCamperBoycouldkillmeeasily.Forsomereasonhedidn’t.Awaveofnauseamademedoubleover.
Iforcedmyselftolookatthewound.Therewasalotofblood,butIrememberedsomethingJazhadtoldmeonceintheinfirmaryatBrooklynHouse:cutsusuallylookedalotworsethantheywere.Ihopedthatwastrue.Ifishedapieceofpapyrusoutofmybackpackandpresseditagainstthewoundasamakeshiftbandage.
Thepainwasstillhorrible,butthenauseabecamemoremanageable.Mythoughtsstartedtoclear,andIwonderedwhyIhadn’tbeenskeweredyet.
CamperBoywassittingnearbyinwaist-deepwater,lookingdejected.Mymagicropehadwrappedroundhisswordarm,thenlashedhishandtothesideofhishead.Unabletoletgoofhissword,helookedlikehehadasinglereindeerantlersproutingnexttohisear.Hetuggedattheropewithhisfreehand,butofcoursehecouldn’tmakeanyprogress.
Finallyhejustsighedandglaredatme.‘I’mreallystartingtohateyou.’
‘Hateme?’Iprotested.‘I’mgushingbloodhere!Andyoustartedallthisbycallingmeahalf-blood!’
‘Oh,please.’CamperBoyroseunsteadily,hisswordantennamakinghimtop-heavy.‘Youcan’tbemortal.Ifyouwere,myswordwould’vepassedrightthroughyou.Ifyou’renotaspiritoramonster,you’vegottobeahalf-blood.AroguedemigodfromKronos’sarmy,I’dguess.’
Mostofwhatthisguysaid,Ididn’tunderstand.Butonethingsankin.
‘Sowhenyousaid“half-blood”…’
HestaredatmelikeIwasanidiot.‘Imeantdemigod.Yeah.WhatdidyouthinkImeant?’
Itriedtoprocessthat.I’dheardthetermdemigodbefore,butitwasn’tanEgyptianconcept.MaybethisguywassensingthatIwasboundtoHorus,thatIcouldchannelthegod’spower…butwhydidhedescribeeverythingsostrangely?
‘Whatareyou?’Idemanded.‘Partcombatmagician,partwaterelementalist?Whatnomeareyouwith?’
Thekidlaughedbitterly.‘Dude,Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Idon’thangoutwithgnomes.Satyrs,sometimes.EvenCyclopes.Butnotgnomes.’
Thebloodlossmusthavebeenmakingmedizzy.Hiswordsbouncedaroundinmyheadlikelotteryballs:Cyclopes,satyrs,demigods,Kronos.Earlierhe’dmentionedAres.ThatwasaGreekgod,notEgyptian.
IfeltliketheDuatwasopeningunderneathme,threateningtopullmeintothedepths.Greek…notEgyptian.
Anideastartedforminginmymind.Ididn’tlikeit.Infact,itscaredtheholyHorusoutofme.
DespitealltheswampwaterI’dswallowed,mythroatfeltdry.‘Look,’Isaid,‘I’msorryabouthittingyouwiththatfistspell.Itwasanaccident.ButthethingIdon’tunderstand…itshouldhavekilledyou.Itdidn’t.Thatdoesn’tmakesense.’
‘Don’tsoundsodisappointed,’hemuttered.‘But,whilewe’reonthesubject,youshouldbedeadtoo.Notmanypeoplecanfightmethatwell.Andmyswordshouldhavevaporizedyourcrocodile.’
‘Forthelasttime,it’snotmycrocodile.’
‘Okay,whatever.’CamperBoylookeddubious.‘ThepointisIstuckthatcrocodileprettygood,butIjustmadeitangry.Celestialbronzeshould’veturnedittodust.’
‘Celestialbronze?’
Ourconversationwascutshortbyascreamfromthenearbyneighbourhood–theterrifiedvoiceofakid.
Myheartdidaslowroll.Ireallywasanidiot.I’dforgottenwhywewerehere.
IlockedeyeswithCamperBoy.‘We’vegottostopthecrocodile.’
‘Truce,’hesuggested.
‘Yeah,’Isaid.‘Wecancontinuekillingeachotherafterthecrocodileistakencareof.’
‘Deal.Now,couldyoupleaseuntiemyswordhandfrommyhead?Ifeellikeafreakingunicorn.’
Iwon’tsaywetrustedeachother,butatleastnowwehadacommoncause.Hesummonedhisshoesoutoftheriver–Ihadnoideahow–andputthemon.ThenhehelpedmebindmyhandwithastripoflinenandwaitedwhileIswiggeddownhalfofmyhealingpotion.
Afterthat,Ifeltgoodenoughtoraceafterhimtowardsthesoundofthescreaming.
IthoughtIwasinprettygoodshape–whatwithcombatmagicpractice,haulingheavyartefactsandplayingbasketballwithKhufuandhisbaboonfriends(baboonsdon’tmessaroundwhenitcomestohoops).Nevertheless,IhadtostruggletokeepupwithCamperBoy.
Whichremindedme,Iwasgettingtiredofcallinghimthat.
‘What’syourname?’Iasked,wheezingasIranbehindhim.
Hegavemeacautiousglance.‘I’mnotsureIshouldtellyou.Namescanbedangerous.’
Hewasright,ofcourse.Namesheldpower.Awhileback,mysister,Sadie,hadlearnedmyren,mysecretname,anditstillcausedmeallsortsofanxiety.Evenwithsomeone’scommonname,askilledmagiciancouldworkallkindsofmischief.
‘Fairenough,’Isaid.‘I’llgofirst.I’mCarter.’
Iguesshebelievedme.Thelinesaroundhiseyesrelaxedabit.
‘Percy,’heoffered.
Thatstruckmeasanunusualname–British,maybe,thoughthekidspokeandactedverymuchlikeanAmerican.
Wejumpedarottenlogandfinallymadeitoutofthemarsh.We’dstartedclimbingagrassyslopetowardsthenearesthouseswhenIrealizedmorethanonevoicewasscreaminguptherenow.Notagoodsign.
‘Justtowarnyou,’ItoldPercy,‘youcan’tkillthemonster.’
‘Watchme,’Percygrumbled.
‘No,Imeanit’simmortal.’
‘I’veheardthatbefore.I’vevaporizedplentyofimmortalsandsentthembacktoTartarus.’
Tartarus?Ithought.
TalkingtoPercywasgivingmeaseriousheadache.ItremindedmeofthetimemydadtookmetoScotlandforoneofhisEgyptologylectures.I’dtriedtotalkwithsomeofthelocalsandIknewtheywerespeakingEnglish,buteveryothersentenceseemedtoslipintoanalternatelanguage–differentwords,differentpronunciations–andI’dwonderwhatthehecktheyweresaying.Percywaslikethat.HeandIalmostspokethesamelanguage–magic,monsters,etcetera.Buthisvocabularywascompletelywrong.
‘No,’Itriedagain,halfwayupthehill.‘Thismonsterisapetsuchos–asonofSobek.’
‘Who’sSobek?’heasked.
‘Lordofcrocodiles.Egyptiangod.’
Thatstoppedhiminhistracks.Hestaredatme,andIcouldsweartheairbetweenusturnedelectric.Avoice,verydeepinmymind,said:Shutup.Don’ttellhimanymore.
PercyglancedatthekhopeshI’dretrievedfromtheriver,thenthewandinmybelt.‘Whereareyoufrom?Honestly.’
‘Originally?’Iasked.‘LosAngeles.NowIliveinBrooklyn.’
Thatdidn’tseemtomakehimfeelanybetter.‘Sothismonster,thispet-suck-oorwhatever–’
‘Petsuchos,’Isaid.‘It’saGreekword,butthemonsterisEgyptian.ItwaslikethemascotofSobek’stemple,worshippedasalivinggod.’
Percygrunted.‘YousoundlikeAnnabeth.’
‘Who?’
‘Nothing.Justskipthehistorylesson.Howdowekillit?’
‘Itoldyou–’
Fromabovecameanotherscream,followedbyaloudCRUNCH,likethesoundmadebyametalcompactor.
Wesprintedtothetopofthehill,thenhoppedthefenceofsomebody’sbackyardandranintoaresidentialcul-de-sac.
Exceptforthegiantcrocodileinthemiddleofthestreet,theneighbourhoodcouldhavebeenAnywhere,USA.Ringingthecul-de-sacwerehalfadozensingle-storeyhomeswithwell-keptfrontlawns,economycarsinthedriveways,mailboxesatthekerb,flagshangingabovethefrontporches.
Unfortunately,theall-Americanscenewaskindofruinedbythemonster,whowasbusilyeatingagreenPriushatchbackwithabumperstickerthatreadMYPOODLEISSMARTERTHANYOURHONOURSTUDENT.MaybethepetsuchosthoughttheToyotawasanothercrocodile,andhewasassertinghisdominance.Maybehejustdidn’tlikepoodlesand/orhonourstudents.
Whateverthecase,ondrylandthecrocodilelookedevenscarierthanhehadinthewater.Hewasaboutfortyfeetlong,astallasadeliverytruck,withatailsomassiveandpowerfulitoverturnedcarseverytimeitswished.Hisskinglistenedblackishgreenandgushedwaterthatpooledaroundhisfeet.IrememberedSobekoncetellingmethathisdivinesweatcreatedtheriversoftheworld.Yuck.Iguessedthismonsterhadthesameholyperspiration.Doubleyuck.
Thecreature’seyesglowedwithasicklyyellowlight.Hisjaggedteethgleamedwhite.Buttheweirdestthingabouthimwashisbling.Roundhisneckhunganelaboratecollarofgoldchainsandenoughpreciousstonestobuyaprivateisland.
ThenecklacewashowIhadrealizedthemonsterwasapetsuchos,backatthemarsh.I’dreadthatthesacredanimalofSobekworesomethingjustlikeitbackinEgypt,thoughwhatthemonsterwasdoinginaLongIslandneighbourhood,Ihadnoidea.
AsPercyandItookinthescene,thecrocodileclampeddownandbitthegreenPriusinhalf,sprayingglassandmetalandpiecesofairbagacrossthelawns.
Assoonashedroppedthewreckage,halfadozenkidsappearedfromnowhere–apparentlythey’dbeenhidingbehindsomeoftheothercars–andchargedthemonster,screamingatthetopoftheirlungs.
Icouldn’tbelieveit.Theywerejustelementary-agekids,armedwithnothingbutwaterballoonsandSuperSoakers.Iguessedthattheywereonsummerbreakandhadbeencoolingoffwithawaterfightwhenthemonsterinterruptedthem.
Therewerenoadultsinsight.Maybetheywereallatwork.Maybetheywereinside,passedoutfromfright.
Thekidslookedangryratherthanscared.Theyranroundthecrocodile,lobbingwaterballoonsthatsplashedharmlesslyagainstthemonster’shide.
Uselessandstupid?Yes.ButIcouldn’thelpadmiringtheirbravery.Theyweretryingtheirbesttofacedownamonsterthathadinvadedtheirneighbourhood.
Maybetheysawthecrocodileforwhatitwas.Maybetheirmortalbrainsmadethemthinkitwasanescapedelephantfromthezoo,oracrazedFedExdeliverydriverwithadeathwish.
Whatevertheysaw,theywereindanger.
Mythroatclosedup.IthoughtaboutmyinitiatesbackatBrooklynHouse,whowerenoolderthanthesekids,andmyprotective‘bigbrother’instinctskickedin.Ichargedintothestreet,yelling,‘Getawayfromit!Run!’
ThenIthrewmywandstraightatthecrocodile’shead.‘Sa-mir!’
Thewandhitthecroconthesnout,andbluelightrippledacrosshisbody.Alloverthemonster’shide,thehieroglyphforpainflickered:
Everywhereitappeared,thecroc’sskinsmokedandsparked,causingthemonstertowritheandbellowinannoyance.
Thekidsscattered,hidingbehindruinedcarsandmailboxes.Thepetsuchosturnedhisglowingyelloweyesonme.
Atmyside,Percywhistledunderhisbreath.‘Well,yougothisattention.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yousurewecan’tkillhim?’heasked.
‘Yeah.’
Thecrocodileseemedtobefollowingourconversation.Hisyelloweyesflickedbackandforthbetweenus,asifdecidingwhichofustoeatfirst.
‘Evenifyoucoulddestroyhisbody,’Isaid,‘hewouldjustreappearsomewherenearby.Thatnecklace?It’senchantedwiththepowerofSobek.Tobeatthemonster,wehavetogetthatnecklaceoff.Thenthepetsuchosshouldshrinkbackintoaregularcrocodile.’
‘Ihatethewordshould,’Percymuttered.‘Fine.I’llgetthenecklace.Youkeephimoccupied.’
‘WhydoIgettokeephimoccupied?’
‘Becauseyou’remoreannoying,’Percysaid.‘Justtrynottogeteatenagain.’
‘ROARR!’themonsterbellowed,hisbreathlikeaseafoodrestaurant’sdumpster.
IwasabouttoarguethatPercywasplentyannoying,butIdidn’tgetthechance.Thepetsuchoscharged,andmynewcomrade-in-armssprintedtooneside,leavingmerightin
thepathofdestruction.
Firstrandomthought:Gettingeatentwiceinonedaywouldbeveryembarrassing.
Outofthecornerofmyeye,IsawPercydashingtowardsthemonster’srightflank.Iheardthemortalkidscomeoutfromtheirhidingplaces,yellingandthrowingmorewaterballoonsliketheyweretryingtoprotectme.
Thepetsuchoslumberedtowardsme,hisjawsopeningtosnapmeup.
AndIgotangry.
I’dfacedtheworstEgyptiangods.I’dplungedintotheDuatandtrekkedacrosstheLandofDemons.I’dstoodattheveryshoresofChaos.Iwasnotgoingtobackdownfromanovergrowngator.
Theaircrackledwithpowerasmycombatavatarformedroundme–aglowingblueexoskeletonintheshapeofHorus.
ItliftedmeoffthegrounduntilIwassuspendedinthemiddleofatwenty-foot-tall,hawk-headedwarrior.Isteppedforward,bracingmyself,andtheavatarmimickedmystance.
Percyyelled,‘HolyHera!Whatthe–?’
Thecrocodileslammedintome.
Henearlytoppledme.Hisjawsclosedroundmyavatar’sfreearm,butIslashedthehawkwarrior’sglowingblueswordatthecrocodile’sneck.
Maybethepetsuchoscouldn’tbekilled.Iwasatleasthopingtocutthroughthenecklacethatwasthesourceofhispower.
Unfortunately,myswingwentwide.Ihitthemonster’sshoulder,cleavinghishide.Insteadofblood,hespilledsand,whichisprettytypicalforEgyptianmonsters.Iwouldhaveenjoyedseeinghimdisintegratecompletely,butnosuchluck.AssoonasIyankedmybladefree,thewoundstartedclosingandthesandslowedtoatrickle.Thecrocodilewhippedhisheadfromsidetoside,pullingmeoffmyfeetandshakingmebythearmlikeadogwithachewtoy.
Whenheletmego,Isailedstraightintothenearesthouseandsmashedthroughtheroof,leavingahawk-warrior-shapedcraterinsomeone’slivingroom.IreallyhopedIhadn’tjustflattenedsomedefencelessmortalinthemiddleofwatchingDrPhil.
Myvisioncleared,andIsawtwothingsthatirritatedme.First,thecrocodilewaschargingmeagain.Second,mynewfriendPercywasjuststandinginthemiddleofthestreet,staringatmeinshock.Apparentlymycombatavatarhadstartledhimsomuchhe’dforgottenhispartoftheplan.
‘Whatthecreepingcrudisthat?’hedemanded.‘You’reinsideagiantglowingchicken-man!’
‘Hawk!’Iyelled.
IdecidedthatifIsurvivedthisdayIwouldhavetomakesurethisguynevermetSadie.They’dprobablytaketurnsinsultingmefortherestofeternity.‘Alittlehelphere?’
Percyunfrozeandrantowardsthecroc.Asthemonsterclosedinonme,Ikickedhiminthesnout,whichmadehimsneezeandshakehisheadlongenoughformetoextricatemyselffromtheruinedhouse.
Percyjumpedonthecreature’stailandranuphisspine.Themonsterthrashedaround,hishidesheddingwaterallovertheplace,butsomehowPercymanagedtokeephisfooting.Theguymusthavepractisedgymnasticsorsomething.
Meanwhile,themortalkidshadfoundsomebetterammunition–rocks,scrapmetalfromthewreckedcars,evenafewtyreirons–andwerehurlingthestuffatthemonster.Ididn’twantthecrocodileturninghisattentiontowardsthem.
‘HEY!’Iswungmykhopeshatthecroc’sface–agoodsolidstrikethatshould’vetakenoffhislowerjaw.Instead,hesomehowsnappedatthebladeandcaughtitinhismouth.Weendedupwrestlingfortheblueglowingswordasitsizzledinhismouth,makinghisteethcrumbletosand.Thatcouldn’thavefeltgood,butthecrocheldon,tuggingagainstme.
‘Percy!’Ishouted.‘Anytimenow!’
Percylungedforthenecklace.Hegrabbedholdandstartedhackingatthegoldlinks,buthisbronzesworddidn’tmakeadent.
Meanwhile,thecrocwasgoingcrazytryingtoyankawaymysword.Mycombatavatarstartedtoflicker.
Summoninganavatarisashort-termthing,likesprintingattopspeed.Youcan’tdoitforverylong,oryou’llcollapse.AlreadyIwassweatingandbreathinghard.Myheartraced.Myreservoirsofmagicwerebeingseverelydepleted.
‘Hurry,’ItoldPercy.
‘Can’tcutit!’hesaid.
‘Aclasp,’Isaid.‘There’sgottabeone.’
AssoonasIsaidthat,Ispottedit–atthemonster’sthroat,agoldencartoucheencirclingthehieroglyphsthatspelledSOBEK.‘There–onthebottom!’
Percyscrambleddownthenecklace,climbingitlikeanet,butatthatmomentmyavatarcollapsed.Idroppedtotheground,exhaustedanddizzy.Theonlythingthatsavedmylife
wasthatthecrocodilehadbeenpullingatmyavatar’ssword.Whenthesworddisappeared,themonsterlurchedbackwardsandstumbledoveraHonda.
Themortalkidsscattered.Onedivedunderacar,onlytohavethecardisappear–smackedintotheairbythecroc’stail.
Percyreachedthebottomofthenecklaceandhungonfordearlife.Hisswordwasgone.Probablyhe’ddroppedit.
Meanwhile,themonsterregainedhisfooting.Thegoodnews:hedidn’tseemtonoticePercy.Thebadnews:hedefinitelynoticedme,andhelookedmightilytorquedoff.
Ididn’thavetheenergytorun,muchlesssummonmagictofight.Atthispoint,themortalkidswiththeirwaterballoonsandrockshadmoreofachanceofstoppingthecrocthanIdid.
Inthedistance,sirenswailed.Somebodyhadcalledthepolice,whichdidn’texactlycheermeup.Itjustmeantmoremortalswereracinghereasfastastheycouldtovolunteerascrocodilesnacks.
Ibackeduptothekerbandtried–ridiculously–tostaredownthemonster.‘Stay,boy.’
Thecrocodilesnorted.Hishideshedwaterlikethegrossestfountainintheworld,makingmyshoessloshasIwalked.Hislamp-yelloweyesfilmedover,maybefromhappiness.HeknewIwasdonefor.
Ithrustmyhandintomybackpack.TheonlythingIfoundwasalumpofwax.Ididn’thavetimetobuildapropershabti,butIhadnobetteridea.Idroppedmypackandstartedworkingthewaxfuriouslywithbothhands,tryingtosoftenit.
‘Percy?’Icalled.
‘Ican’tunlocktheclasp!’heyelled.Ididn’tdaretakemyeyesoffthecroc’s,butinmyperipheralvisionIcouldseePercypoundinghisfistagainstthebaseofthenecklace.‘Somekindofmagic?’
Thatwasthesmartestthinghe’dsaidallafternoon(notthathe’dsaidalotofsmartthingstochoosefrom).Theclaspwasahieroglyphiccartouche.Itwouldtakeamagiciantofigureitoutandopenit.WhateverandwhoeverPercywas,hewasnomagician.
Iwasstillshapingthelumpofwax,tryingtomakeitintoafigurine,whenthecrocodiledecidedtostopsavouringthemomentandjusteatme.Ashelunged,Ithrewmyshabti,onlyhalfformed,andbarkedacommandword.
Instantlytheworld’smostdeformedhippopotamussprangtolifeinmidair.Itsailedheadfirstintothecrocodile’sleftnostrilandlodgedthere,kickingitsstubbybacklegs.
Notexactlymyfinesttacticalmove,buthavingahipposhoveduphisnosemusthavebeensufficientlydistracting.Thecrocodilehissedandstumbled,shakinghishead,as
Percydroppedoffandrolledaway,barelyavoidingthecrocodile’sstompingfeet.Herantojoinmeatthekerb.
Istaredinhorrorasmywaxcreature,nowaliving(thoughverymisshapen)hippo,triedtoeitherwrigglefreeofthecroc’snostrilorworkitswayfurtherintothereptile’ssinuscavity–Iwasn’tsurewhich.
Thecrocodilewhippedround,andPercygrabbedmejustintime,pullingmeoutofitstramplingpath.
Wejoggedtotheoppositeendofthecul-de-sac,wherethemortalkidshadgathered.Amazingly,noneofthemseemedtobehurt.Thecrocodilekeptthrashingandwipingouthomesasittriedtoclearitsnostril.
‘Youokay?’Percyaskedme.
Igaspedforairbutnoddedweakly.
OneofthekidsofferedmehisSuperSoaker.Iwavedhimoff.
‘Youguys,’Percytoldthekids,‘youhearthosesirens?You’vegottorundowntheroadandstopthepolice.Tellthemit’stoodangerousuphere.Stallthem!’
Forsomereason,thekidslistened.Maybetheywerejusthappytohavesomethingtodo,but,fromthewayPercyspoke,Igotthefeelinghewasusedtorallyingoutnumberedtroops.HesoundedabitlikeHorus–anaturalcommander.
Afterthekidsracedoff,Imanagedtosay,‘Goodcall.’
Percynoddedgrimly.Thecrocodilewasstilldistractedbyitsnasalintruder,butIdoubtedtheshabtiwouldlastmuchlonger.Underthatmuchstress,thehippowouldsoonmeltbacktowax.
‘You’vegotsomemoves,Carter,’Percyadmitted.‘Anythingelseinyourbagoftricks?’
‘Nothing,’Isaiddismally.‘I’mrunningonempty.ButifIcangettothatclaspIthinkIcanopenit.’
Percysizedupthepetsuchos.Thecul-de-sacwasfillingwithwaterthatpouredfromthemonster’shide.Thesirensweregettinglouder.Wedidn’thavemuchtime.
‘Guessit’smyturntodistractthecroc,’hesaid.‘Getreadytorunforthatnecklace.’
‘Youdon’tevenhaveyoursword,’Iprotested.‘You’lldie!’
Percymanagedacrookedsmile.‘Justruninthereassoonasitstarts.’
‘Assoonaswhatstarts?’
Thenthecrocodilesneezed,launchingthewaxhippoacrossLongIsland.Thepetsuchosturnedtowardsus,roaringinanger,andPercychargedstraightathim.
Asitturnedout,Ididn’tneedtoaskwhatkindofdistractionPercyhadinmind.Onceitstarted,itwasprettyobvious.
Hestoppedinfrontofthecrocodileandraisedhisarms.Ifiguredhewasplanningsomekindofmagic,buthespokenocommandwords.Hehadnostafforwand.Hejuststoodthereandlookedupatthecrocodileasiftosay,HereIam!I’mtasty!
Thecrocodileseemedmomentarilysurprised.Ifnothingelse,wewoulddieknowingthatwe’dconfusedthismonstermany,manytimes.
Crocsweatkeptpouringoffhisbody.Thebrackishstuffwasuptothekerbnow,uptoourankles.Itsloughedintothestormdrainsbutjustcontinuedspillingfromthecroc’sskin.
ThenIsawwhatwashappening.AsPercyraisedhisarms,thewaterbeganswirlingcounterclockwise.Itstartedaroundthecroc’sfeetandquicklybuiltupspeeduntilthewhirlpoolencompassedtheentirecul-de-sac,spinningstronglyenoughthatIcouldfeelitpullingmesideways.
BythetimeIrealizedI’dbetterstartrunning,thecurrentwasalreadytoofast.I’dhavetoreachthenecklacesomeotherway.
Onelasttrick,Ithought.
Ifearedtheeffortmightliterallyburnmeup,butIsummonedmyfinalbitofmagicalenergyandtransformedintoafalcon–thesacredanimalofHorus.
Instantly,myvisionwasahundredtimessharper.Isoaredupwards,abovetherooftops,andtheentireworldswitchedtohigh-definition3D.Isawthepolicecarsonlyafewblocksaway,thekidsstandinginthemiddleofthestreet,wavingthemdown.Icouldmakeouteveryslimybumpandporeonthecrocodile’shide.Icouldseeeachhieroglyphontheclaspofthenecklace.AndIcouldseejusthowimpressivePercy’smagictrickwas.
Theentirecul-de-sacwasengulfedinahurricane.Percystoodattheedge,unmoved,butthewaterwaschurningsofastnowthateventhegiantcrocodilelosthisfooting.Wreckedcarsscrapedalongthepavement.Mailboxeswerepulledoutoflawnsandsweptaway.Thewaterincreasedinvolumeaswellasspeed,risingupandturningtheentireneighbourhoodintoaliquidcentrifuge.
Itwasmyturntobestunned.Afewmomentsago,I’ddecidedPercywasnomagician.YetI’dneverseenamagicianwhocouldcontrolsomuchwater.
Thecrocodilestumbledandstruggled,shufflinginacirclewiththecurrent.
‘Anytimenow,’Percymutteredthroughgrittedteeth.Withoutmyfalconhearing,Ineverwould’veheardhimthroughthestorm,butIrealizedhewastalkingtome.
IrememberedIhadajobtodo.Noone,magicianorotherwise,couldcontrolthatkindofpowerforlong.
Ifoldedmywingsanddivedforthecrocodile.WhenIreachedthenecklace’sclasp,Iturnedbacktohumanandgrabbedhold.Allaroundme,thehurricaneroared.Icouldbarelyseethroughtheswirlofmist.Thecurrentwassostrongnowittuggedatmylegs,threateningtopullmeintotheflood.
Iwassotired.Ihadn’tfeltthispushedbeyondmylimitssinceI’dfoughttheChaoslord,Apophishimself.
Iranmyhandoverthehieroglyphsontheclasp.Therehadtobeasecrettounlockingit.
Thecrocodilebellowedandstomped,fightingtostayonitsfeet.Somewheretomyleft,Percyyelledinrageandfrustration,tryingtokeepupthestorm,butthewhirlpoolwasstartingtoslow.
Ihadafewsecondsatbestuntilthecrocodilebrokefreeandattacked.ThenPercyandIwouldbothbedead.
Ifeltthefoursymbolsthatmadeupthegod’sname:
Thelastsymboldidn’tactuallyrepresentasound,Iknew.Itwasthehieroglyphforgod,indicatingthatthelettersinfrontofit–SBK–stoodforadeity’sname.
Whenindoubt,Ithought,hitthegodbutton.
Ipushedthefourthsymbol,butnothinghappened.
Thestormwasfailing.Thecrocodilestartedtoturnagainstthecurrent,facingPercy.Outofthecornerofmyeye,throughthehazeandmist,IsawPercydroptooneknee.
Myfingerspassedoverthethirdhieroglyph–thewickerbasket(Sadiealwayscalleditthe‘teacup’)thatstoodfortheKsound.Thehieroglyphfeltslightlywarmtothetouch–orwasthatmyimagination?
Notimetothink.Ipressedit.Nothinghappened.
Thestormdied.Thecrocodilebellowedintriumph,readytofeed.
Imadeafistandslammedthebaskethieroglyphwithallmystrength.Thistimetheclaspmadeasatisfyingclickandsprangopen.Idroppedtothepavement,andseveralhundredpoundsofgoldandgemsspilledontopofme.
Thecrocodilestaggered,roaringlikethegunsofabattleship.Whatwasleftofthehurricanescatteredinanexplosionofwind,andIshutmyeyes,readytobesmashedflatbythebodyofafallingmonster.
Suddenly,thecul-de-sacwassilent.Nosirens.Nocrocodileroaring.Themoundofgoldjewellerydisappeared.Iwaslyingonmybackinmuckywater,staringupattheempty
bluesky.
Percy’sfaceappearedaboveme.Helookedlikehe’djustrunamarathonthroughatyphoon,buthewasgrinning.
‘Nicework,’hesaid.‘Getthenecklace.’
‘Thenecklace?’Mybrainstillfeltsluggish.Wherehadallthatgoldgone?Isatupandputmyhandonthepavement.Myfingersclosedroundthestrandofjewellery,nownormal-sized…well,atleastnormalforsomethingthatcouldfitroundtheneckofanaveragecrocodile.
‘The–themonster,’Istammered.‘Where–?’
Percypointed.Afewfeetaway,lookingverydisgruntled,wasababycrocodilenotmorethanthreefeetlong.
‘Youcan’tbeserious,’Isaid.
‘Maybesomebody’sabandonedpet?’Percyshrugged.‘Youhearaboutthoseonthenewssometimes.’
Icouldn’tthinkofabetterexplanation,buthowhadababycrocgotholdofanecklacethatturnedhimintoagiantkillingmachine?
Downthestreet,voicesstartedyelling,‘Uphere!There’sthesetwoguys!’
Itwasthemortalkids.Apparentlythey’ddecidedthedangerwasover.Nowtheywereleadingthepolicestraighttowardsus.
‘Wehavetogo.’Percyscoopedupthebabycrocodile,clenchingonehandroundhislittlesnout.Helookedatme.‘Youcoming?’
Together,weranbacktotheswamp.
Halfanhourlater,weweresittinginadinerofftheMontaukHighway.I’dsharedtherestofmyhealingpotionwithPercy,whoforsomereasoninsistedoncallingitnectar.Mostofourwoundshadhealed.
We’dtiedthecrocodileinthewoodsonamakeshiftleash,justuntilwecouldfigureoutwhattodowithit.We’dcleanedupasbestwecould,butwestilllookedlikewe’dtakenashowerinamalfunctioningcarwash.Percy’shairwasswepttoonesideandtangledwithpiecesofgrass.Hisorangeshirtwasrippeddownthefront.
I’msureIdidn’tlookmuchbetter.Ihadwaterinmyshoes,andIwasstillpickingfalconfeathersoutofmyshirtsleeves(hastytransformationscanbemessy).
Weweretooexhaustedtotalkaswewatchedthenewsonthetelevisionabovethecounter.Policeandfirefightershadrespondedtoafreaksewereventinalocalneighbourhood.Apparentlypressurehadbuiltupinthedrainagepipes,causingamassiveexplosionthatunleashedafloodanderodedthesoilsobadlyseveralhousesonthecul-de-
sachadcollapsed.Itwasamiraclethatnoresidentshadbeeninjured.LocalkidsweretellingsomewildstoriesabouttheLongIslandSwampMonster,claimingithadcausedallthedamageduringafightwithtwoteenageboys,butofcoursetheofficialsdidn’tbelievethis.Thereporteradmitted,however,thatthedamagedhouseslookedlike‘somethingverylargehadsatonthem’.
‘Afreakseweraccident,’Percysaid.‘That’safirst.’
‘Foryou,maybe,’Igrumbled.‘IseemtocausethemeverywhereIgo.’
‘Cheerup,’hesaid.‘Lunchisonme.’
Hedugintothepocketsofhisjeansandpulledoutaballpointpen.Nothingelse.
‘Oh…’Hissmilefaded.‘Uh,actually…canyouconjureupmoney?’
So,naturally,lunchwasonme.Icouldpullmoneyoutofthinair,sinceIkeptsomestoredintheDuatalongwithmyotheremergencysupplies;soinnotimewehadcheeseburgersandfriesinfrontofus,andlifewaslookingup.
‘Cheeseburgers,’Percysaid.‘Foodofthegods.’
‘Agreed,’Isaid,butwhenIglancedoverathimIwonderedifhewasthinkingthesamethingIwas:thatwewerereferringtodifferentgods.
Percyinhaledhisburger.Seriously,thisguycouldeat.‘So,thenecklace,’hesaidbetweenbites.‘What’sthestory?’
Ihesitated.IstillhadnocluewherePercycamefromorwhathewas,andIwasn’tsureIwantedtoask.Nowthatwe’dfoughttogether,Icouldn’thelpbuttrusthim.Still,Isensedweweretreadingondangerousground.Everythingwesaidcouldhaveseriousimplications–notjustforthetwoofusbutmaybeforeveryoneweknew.
IfeltsortoflikeIhadtwowintersago,whenmyuncleAmosexplainedthetruthabouttheKanefamilyheritage–theHouseofLife,theEgyptiangods,theDuat,everything.Inasingleday,myworldexpandedtenfoldandleftmereeling.
NowIwasstandingattheedgeofanothermomentlikethat.ButifmyworldexpandedtenfoldagainIwasafraidmybrainmightexplode.
‘Thenecklaceisenchanted,’Isaidatlast.‘Anyreptilethatwearsitturnsintothenextpetsuchos,theSonofSobek.Somehowthatlittlecrocodilegotitroundhisneck.’
‘Meaningsomeoneputitroundhisneck,’Percysaid.
Ididn’twanttothinkaboutthat,butInoddedreluctantly.
‘So,who?’heasked.
‘Hardtonarrowitdown,’Isaid.‘I’vegotalotofenemies.’
Percysnorted.‘Icanrelatetothat.Anyideawhy,then?’
Itookanotherbiteofmycheeseburger.Itwasgood,butIhadtroubleconcentratingonit.
‘Someonewantedtocausetrouble,’Ispeculated.‘Ithinkmaybe…’IstudiedPercy,tryingtojudgehowmuchIshouldsay.‘Maybetheywantedtocausetroublethatwouldgetourattention.Bothofourattention.’
Percyfrowned.HedrewsomethinginhisketchupwithaFrenchfry–notahieroglyph.Somekindofnon-Englishletter.Greek,Iguessed.
‘ThemonsterhadaGreekname,’hesaid.‘Itwaseatingpegasiinmy…’Hehesitated.
‘Inyourhometurf,’Ifinished.‘Somekindofcamp,judgingfromyourshirt.’
Heshiftedonhisbarstool.Istillcouldn’tbelievehewastalkingaboutpegasiasiftheywerereal,butIrememberedonetimeatBrooklynHouse,maybeayearback,whenIwascertainIsawawingedhorseflyingovertheManhattanskyline.Atthetime,SadiehadtoldmeIwashallucinating.Now,Iwasn’tsosure.
FinallyPercyfacedme.‘Look,Carter.You’renotnearlyasannoyingasIthought.Andwemadeagoodteamtoday,but–’
‘Youdon’twanttoshareyoursecrets,’Isaid.‘Don’tworry.I’mnotgoingtoaskaboutyourcamp.Orthepowersyouhave.Oranyofthat.’
Heraisedaneyebrow.‘You’renotcurious?’
‘I’mtotallycurious.Butuntilwefigureoutwhat’sgoingonIthinkit’sbestwekeepsomedistance.Ifsomeone–something–unleashedthatmonsterhere,knowingitwoulddrawbothofourattention–’
‘Thenmaybethatsomeonewantedustomeet,’hefinished.‘Hopingbadthingswouldhappen.’
Inodded.IthoughtabouttheuneasyfeelingI’dhadinmygutearlier–thevoiceinmyheadwarningmenottotellPercyanything.I’dcometorespecttheguy,butIstillsensedthatweweren’tmeanttobefriends.Weweren’tmeanttobeanywhereclosetoeachother.
Alongtimeago,whenIwasjustalittlekid,I’dwatchedmymomdoascienceexperimentwithsomeofhercollegestudents.
Potassiumandwater,she’dtoldthem.Separate,completelyharmless.Buttogether–
Shedroppedthepotassiumintoabeakerofwater,andka-blam!Thestudentsjumpedbackasaminiatureexplosionrattledallthevialsinthelab.
Percywaswater.Iwaspotassium.
‘Butwe’vemetnow,’Percysaid.‘YouknowI’mouthereonLongIsland.IknowyouliveinBrooklyn.Ifwewentsearchingforeachother–’
‘Iwouldn’trecommendit,’Isaid.‘Notuntilweknowmore.Ineedtolookintosomethingson,uh,myside–trytofigureoutwhowasbehindthiscrocodileincident.’
‘Allright,’Percyagreed.‘I’lldothesameonmyside.’
Hepointedatthepetsuchosnecklace,whichwasglintingjustinsidemybackpack.‘Whatdowetodoaboutthat?’
‘Icansenditsomewheresafe,’Ipromised.‘Itwon’tcausetroubleagain.Wedealwithrelicslikethisalot.’
‘We,’Percysaid.‘Meaning,there’salotof…youguys?’
Ididn’tanswer.
Percyputuphishands.‘Fine.Ididn’task.IhavesomefriendsbackatCa–uh,backonmysidewhowouldlovetinkeringwithamagicnecklacelikethat,butI’mgoingtotrustyouhere.Takeit.’
Ididn’trealizeI’dbeenholdingmybreathuntilIexhaled.‘Thanks.Good.’
‘Andthebabycrocodile?’heasked.
Imanagedanervouslaugh.‘Youwantit?’
‘Gods,no.’
‘Icantakeit,giveitagoodhome.’IthoughtaboutourbigpoolatBrooklynHouse.Iwonderedhowourgiantmagiccrocodile,PhilipofMacedonia,wouldfeelabouthavingalittlefriend.‘Yeah,it’llfitrightin.’
Percydidn’tseemtoknowwhattothinkofthat.‘Okay,well…’Heheldouthishand.‘Goodworkingwithyou,Carter.’
Weshook.Nosparksflew.Nothunderboomed.ButIstillcouldn’tescapethefeelingthatwe’dopenedadoor,meetinglikethis–adoorthatwemightnotbeabletoclose.
‘Youtoo,Percy.’
Hestoodtogo.‘Onemorething,’hesaid.‘Ifthissomebody,whoeverthrewustogether…ifhe’sanenemytobothofus–whatifweneedeachothertofighthim?HowdoIcontactyou?’
Iconsideredthat.ThenImadeasnapdecision.‘CanIwritesomethingonyourhand?’
Hefrowned.‘Likeyourphonenumber?’
‘Uh…well,notexactly.’Itookoutmystylusandavialofmagicink.Percyheldouthispalm.Idrewahieroglyphthere–theEyeofHorus.Assoonasthesymbolwascomplete,itflaredblue,thenvanished.
‘Justsaymyname,’Itoldhim,‘andI’llhearyou.I’llknowwhereyouare,andI’llcomemeetyou.Butitwillonlyworkonce,somakeitcount.’
Percyconsideredhisemptypalm.‘I’mtrustingyouthatthisisn’tsomesortofmagicaltrackingdevice.’
‘Yeah,’Isaid.‘AndI’mtrustingthatwhenyoucallmeyouwon’tbeluringmeintosomekindofambush.’
Hestaredatme.Thosestormygreeneyesreallywerekindofscary.Thenhesmiled,andhelookedlikearegularteenager,withoutacareintheworld.
‘Fairenough,’hesaid.‘SeeyouwhenIseeyou,C–’
‘Don’tsaymyname!’
‘Justteasing.’Hepointedatmeandwinked.‘Staystrange,myfriend.’
Thenhewasgone.
Anhourlater,IwasbackaboardmyairborneboatwiththebabycrocodileandthemagicnecklaceasFreakflewmehometoBrooklynHouse.
Now,lookingbackonit,thewholethingwithPercyseemssounrealIcanhardlybelieveitactuallyhappened.
IwonderhowPercysummonedthatwhirlpool,andwhattheheckcelestialbronzeis.Mostofall,Ikeeprollingonewordaroundinmymind:demigod.
IhaveafeelingthatIcouldfindsomeanswersifIlookedhardenough,butI’mafraidofwhatImightdiscover.
Forthetimebeing,IthinkI’lltellSadieaboutthisandnooneelse.Atfirstshe’llthinkI’mkidding.And,ofcourse,she’llgivemegrief,butshealsoknowswhenI’mtellingthetruth.Asannoyingassheis,Itrusther(thoughIwouldneversaythattoherface).
Maybeshe’llhavesomeideasaboutwhatweshoulddo.
WhoeverbroughtPercyandmetogether,whoeverorchestratedourcrossingpaths…itsmacksofChaos.Ican’thelpthinkingthiswasanexperimenttoseewhatkindofhavocwouldresult.Potassiumandwater.Matterandantimatter.
Fortunately,thingsturnedoutokay.Thepetsuchosnecklaceissafelylockedaway.Ournewbabycrocodileissplashingaroundhappilyinourpool.
Butnexttime…well,I’mafraidwemightnotbesolucky.
Somewherethere’sakidnamedPercywithasecrethieroglyphonhishand.AndIhaveafeelingthatsoonerorlaterI’llwakeupinthemiddleofthenightandhearoneword,spokenurgentlyinmymind:
Carter.
PUFFINBOOKS
PublishedbythePenguinGroupPenguinBooksLtd,80Strand,LondonWC2R0RL,EnglandPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.,375HudsonStreet,NewYork,NewYork10014,USAPenguinGroup(Canada),90EglintonAvenueEast,Suite700,Toronto,Ontario,CanadaM4P2Y3(adivisionofPearsonPenguinCanadaInc.)PenguinIreland,25StStephen’sGreen,Dublin2,Ireland(adivisionofPenguinBooksLtd)PenguinGroup(Australia),707CollinsStreet,Melbourne,Victoria3008,Australia(adivisionofPearsonAustraliaGroupPtyLtd)PenguinBooksIndiaPvtLtd,11CommunityCentre,PanchsheelPark,NewDelhi–110017,IndiaPenguinGroup(NZ),67ApolloDrive,Rosedale,Auckland0632,NewZealand(adivisionofPearsonNewZealandLtd)PenguinBooks(SouthAfrica)(Pty)Ltd,BlockD,RosebankOfficePark,181JanSmutsAvenue,ParktownNorth,Gauteng2193,SouthAfrica
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FirstpublishedintheUSAbyDisney·HyperionBooksforChildren,animprintofDisneyBookGroup,2013PublishedsimultaneouslyinGreatBritainasanelectroniceditionbyPuffinBooks2013
Textcopyright©RickRiordan,2013HieroglyphartbyMichelleGengaro-KokmenAllrightsreserved
Themoralrightoftheauthorandillustratorhasbeenasserted
ISBN:978–0–141–34999–2
Hazel
DURINGTHETHIRDATTACK,Hazelalmostateaboulder.Shewaspeeringintothefog,wonderinghowitcouldbesodifficulttoflyacrossonestupidmountainrange,whentheship’salarmbellssounded.
“Hardtoport!”Nicoyelledfromtheforemastoftheflyingship.Backatthehelm,Leoyankedthewheel.TheArgoIIveeredleft,itsaerialoarsslashingthroughthecloudslikerowsofknives.Hazelmadethemistakeoflookingovertherail.Adark,sphericalshapehurtledtowardher.Shethought:Whyisthemooncomingatus?Thensheyelpedandhitthedeck.Thehugerockpassedsocloseoverhead,itblewherhairoutofherface.CRACK!Theforemastcollapsed—sail,spars,andNicoallcrashingtothedeck.Theboulder,roughlythesizeofapickuptruck,tumbledoffintothefoglikeithadimportantbusinesselsewhere.“Nico!”HazelscrambledovertohimasLeobroughttheshiplevel.“I’mfine,”Nicomuttered,kickingfoldsofcanvasoffhislegs.Shehelpedhimup,andtheystumbledtothebow.Hazelpeekedovermorecarefullythistime.Thecloudspartedjustlongenoughtorevealthetopofthemountainbelowthem:aspearheadofblackrockjuttingfrommossygreenslopes.Standingatthesummitwasamountaingod—oneofthenuminamontanum,Jasonhadcalledthem.Orourae,inGreek.Whateveryoucalledthem,theywerenasty.Liketheotherstheyhadfaced,thisoneworeasimplewhitetunicoverskinasroughanddarkasbasalt.Hewasabouttwentyfeettallandextremelymuscular,withaflowingwhitebeard,scragglyhair,andawildlookinhiseyes,likeacrazyhermit.HebellowedsomethingHazeldidn’tunderstand,butitobviouslywasn’twelcoming.Withhisbarehands,hepriedanotherchunkofrockfromhismountainandbeganshapingitintoaball.Thescenedisappearedinthefog,butwhenthemountaingodbellowedagain,othernuminaansweredinthedistance,theirvoicesechoingthroughthevalleys.“Stupidrockgods!”Leoyelledfromthehelm.“That’sthethirdtimeI’vehadtoreplacethatmast!Youthinktheygrowontrees?”Nicofrowned.“Mastsarefromtrees.”“That’snotthepoint!”Leosnatcheduponeofhiscontrols,ajury-riggedNintendoWiistick,andspunitinacircle.Afewfeetaway,atrapdooropenedinthedeck.ACelestialbronzecannonrose.Hazeljusthadtimetocoverheearsbeforeitdischargedintothesky,sprayingadozenmetalspheresthattrailedgreenfire.Thespheresgrewspikesinmidair,likehelicopterblades,andspunawayintothefog.Amomentlater,aseriesofexplosionscrackledacrossthemountains,followedbytheoutragedroarofmountaingods.“Ha!”Leoyelled.Unfortunately,Hazelguessed,judgingfromtheirlasttwoencounters,Leo’snewestweaponhadonlyannoyedthenumina.Anotherboulderwhistledthroughtheairofftotheirstarboardside.Nicoyelled,“Getusoutofhere!”Leomutteredsomeunflatteringcommentsaboutnumina,butheturnedthewheel.Theengineshummed.Magicalrigginglasheditselftight,andtheshiptackedtoport.TheArgoIIpickedupspeed,retreatingnorthwest,asthey’dbeendoingforthepasttwodays.Hazeldidn’trelaxuntiltheywereoutofthemountains.Thefogcleared.Belowthem,morningsunlightilluminatedtheItaliancountryside—rollinggreenhillsandgoldenfieldsnottoodifferentfromthoseinNorthernCalifornia.HazelcouldalmostimagineshewassailinghometoCampJupiter.Thethoughtweighedonherchest.CampJupiterhadonlybeenherhomeforninemonths,sinceNicohadbroughtherbackfromtheUnderworld.ButshemisseditmorethanherbirthplaceofNewOrleans,anddefinitelymorethanAlaska,whereshe’ddiedbackin1942.ShemissedherbunkintheFifthCohortbarracks.Shemisseddinnersinthemesshall,withwindspiritswhiskingplattersthroughtheairandlegionnairesjokingaboutthewargames.ShewantedtowanderthestreetsofNewRome,holdinghandswithFrankZhang.Shewantedtoexperiencejustbeingaregulargirlforonce,withanactualsweet,caringboyfriend.Mostofall,shewantedtofeelsafe.Shewastiredofbeingscaredandworriedallthetime.ShestoodonthequarterdeckasNicopickedmastsplintersoutofhisarmsandLeopunchedbuttonsontheship’sconsole.“Well,thatwassucktastic,”Leosaid.“ShouldIwaketheothers?”Hazelwastemptedtosayyes,buttheothercrewmembershadtakenthenightshiftandhadearnedtheirrest.Theywereexhaustedfromdefendingtheship.Everyfewhours,itseemed,someRomanmonsterhad
decidedtheArgoIIlookedlikeatastytreat.Afewweeksago,Hazelwouldn’thavebelievedthatanyonecouldsleepthroughanuminaattack,butnowsheimaginedherfriendswerestillsnoringawaybelowdecks.Whenevershegotachancetocrash,shesleptlikeacomapatient.“Theyneedrest,”shesaid.“We’llhavetofigureoutanotherwayonourown.”“Huh.”Leoscowledathismonitor.Inhistatteredworkshirtandgrease-splatteredjeans,helookedlikehe’djustlostawrestlingmatchwithalocomotive.EversincetheirfriendsPercyandAnnabethhadfallenintoTartarus,Leohadbeenworkingalmostnonstop.He’dbeenactingangrierandevenmoredriventhanusual.Hazelworriedabouthim.Butpartofherwasrelievedbythechange.WheneverLeosmiledandjoked,helookedtoomuchlikeSammy,isgreat-grandfather…Hazel’sfirstboyfriendbackin1942.Ugh,whydidherlifehavetobesocomplicated?“Anotherway,”Leomuttered.“Doyouseeone?”OnhismonitorglowedamapofItaly.TheApennineMountainsrandownthemiddleoftheboot-shapedcountry.AgreendotfortheArgoIIblinkedonthewesternsideoftherange,afewhundredmilesnorthofRome.Theirpathshouldhavebeensimple.TheyneededtogettoaplacecalledEpirusinGreeceandfindanoldtemplecalledtheHouseofHades(orPluto,astheRomanscalledhim;orasHazellikedtothinkofhim:theWorld’sWorstAbsentFather).ToreachEpirus,alltheyhadtodowasgostraighteast—overtheApenninesandacrosstheAdriaticSea.Butithadn’tworkedoutthatway.EachtimetheytriedtocrossthespineofItaly,themountaingodsattacked.Forthepasttwodaysthey’dskirtednorth,hopingtofindasafepass,withnoluck.ThenuminamontanumweresonsofGaea,Hazel’sleastfavoritegoddess.Thatmadethemverydeterminedenemies.TheArgoIIcouldn’tflyhighenoughtoavoidtheirattacks;andevenwithallitsdefenses,theshipcouldn’tmakeitacrosstherangewithoutbeingsmashedtopieces.“It’sourfault,”Hazelsaid.“Nicoandmine.”Thenuminacansenseus.”Sheglancedatherhalfbrother.Sincethey’drescuedhimfromthegiants,he’dstartedtoregainhisstrength,buthewasstillpainfullythin.Hisblackshirtandjeanshungoffhisskeletalframe.Long,darkhairframedhissunkeneyes.Hisolivecomplexionhadturnedasicklygreenish-white,likethecoloroftreesap.Inhumanyears,hewasbarelyfourteen,justayearolderthanHazel;butthatdidn’ttellthewholestory.LikeHazel,NicodiAngelowasademigodfromanotherera.Heradiatedakindofoldenergy—amelancholythatcamefromknowinghedidn’tbelonginthemodernworld.Hazelhadn’tknownhimverylong,butsheunderstood,evensharedhissadness.ThechildrenofHades(Pluto—whichever)rarelyhadhappylives.AndjudgingfromwhatNicohadtoldherthenightbefore,theirbiggestchallengewasyettocomewhentheyreachedtheHouseofHades—achallengehe’dimploredhertokeepsecretfromtheothers.NicogrippedthehiltofhisStygianironsword.“Earthspiritsdon’tlikechildrenoftheUnderworld.That’strue.Wegetundertheirskin—literally.ButIthinkthenuminacouldsensethisshipanyway.We’recarryingtheAthenaParthenos.Thatthingislikeamagicalbeacon.”Hazelshivered,thinkingofthemassivestatuethattookupmostyofthehold.They’dsacrificedsomuch,savingitfromthecavernunderRome;buttheyhadnoideawhattodowithit.Sofartheonlythingitseemedtobegoodforwasalertingmoremonsterstotheirpresence.LeotracedhisfingerdownthemapofItaly.“Socrossingthemountainsisout.Thingis,theygoalongwayineitherdirection.”“Wecouldgobysea,”Hazelsuggested.“SailaroundthesoutherntipofItaly.”“That’salongway,”Nicosaid.“Plus,wedon’thave…”Hisvoicecracked.“Youknow…ourseaexpert,Percy.”Thenamehungintheairlikeanimpendingstorm.PercyJackson,sonofPoseidon…probablythedemigodHazeladmiredthemost.He’dsavedherlifesomanytimesontheirquesttoAlaska;butwhenhehadneededHazel’shelpinRome,she’dfailedhim.She’dwatched,powerless,asheandAnnabethhadplungedintothatpit….Hazeltookadeepbreath.PercyandAnnabethwerestillalive.Sheknewthatinherheart.ShecouldstillhelpthemifshecouldgettotheHouseofHades,ifshecouldsurvivethechallengeNicohadwarnedherabout….“Whataboutcontinuingnorth?”sheasked.“Therehastobeabreakinthemountains,orsomething.”LeofiddledwiththebronzeArchimedesspherethathe’dinstalledontheconsole—hisnewestandmostdangeroustoy.EverytimeHazellookedatthething,hermouthwentdry.SheworriedthatLeowouldturnthewrongcombinationonthesphereandaccidentallyejectthemallfromthedeck,orblowuptheship,orturntheArgoIIintoagianttoaster.Fortunately,theygotlucky.Thespheregrewacameralensandprojecteda3DimageoftheApennineMountainsabovetheconsole.“Idunno.”Leoexaminedtheholograph.“Idon’tseeanygoodpassestothenorth.ButIliketheideabetterthanbacktrackingsouth.I’mdonewithRome.”Noonearguedwiththat.Romehadnotbeenagoodexperience.“Whateverweso,”Nicosaid,“wehavetohurry.EverydaythatAnnabethandPercyareinTartarus…”Hedidn’tneedtofinish.TheyhadtohopePercyandAnnabethcouldsurvivelongenoughtofindtheTartarussideoftheDoorsofDeath.Then,assumingtheArgoIIcouldreachtheHouseofHades,theymightbeableto
openthedoorsonthemortalside,savetheirfriends,andsealtheentrance,stoppingGaea’sforcesfrombeingreincarnatedinthemortalworld,overandover.Yes…nothingcouldgowrongwiththatplan.NicoscowledattheItaliancountrysidebelowthem.Maybeweshouldwaketheothers.Thedecisionaffectsusall.”“No,”Hazelsaid.“Wecanfindasolution.”Shewasn’tsurewhyshefeltstronglyaboutit,butsinceleavingRome,thecrewhadstartedtoloseitscohesion.They’dbeenlearningtoworkasateam.Thenbam…theirtwomostimportantmembersfellintoTartarus.Percyhadbeentheirbackbone.He’dgiventhemconfidenceastheysailedacrosstheAtlanticandintotheMediterranean.AsforAnnabeth—she’dbeenthedefactoleaderofthequest.She’drecoveredtheAthenaParthenossingle-handedly.Shewasthesmartestoftheseven,theonewiththeanswers.IfHazelwokeuptherestofthecreweverytimetheyhadaproblem,they’djuststartarguingagain,feelingmoreandmorehopeless.ShehadtomakePercyandAnnabethproudofher.Shehadtotaketheinitiative.Shecouldn’tbelieveheronlyroleinthisquestwouldbewhatNicohadwarnedherof—removingtheobstaclewaitingforthemintheHouseofHades.Shepushedthethoughtaside.“Weneedsomecreativethinking,”shesaid.“Anotherwaytocrossthosemountains,orawaytohideourselvesfromthenumina“Nicosighed.“IfIwasonmyown,Icouldshadow-travel.Butthatwon’tworkforanentireship.Andhonestly,I’mnotsureIhavethestrengthtoeventransportmyselfanymore.”“Icouldmayberigsomekindofcamouflage,”Leosaid,“likeasmokescrentohideusintheclouds.”Hedidn’tsoundveryenthusiastic.Hazelstareddownattherollingfarmland,thinkingaboutwhatlaybeneathit—therealmofherfather,lordoftheUnderworld.She’donlymetPlutoonce,andshehadn’trealizedwhohewas.Shecertainlyhadneverexpectedhelpfromhim—notwhenshewasalivethefirsttime,notduringhertimeasaspiritintheUnderworld,notsinceNicohadbroughtherbacktotheworldoftheliving.Herdad’sservantThanatos,godofdeath,hadsuggestedthatPlutomightbedoingHazelafavorbyignoringher.Afterall,shewasn’tsupposedtobealive.IfPlutotooknoticeofher,hemighthavetoreturnhertothelandofthedead.WhichmeantcallingonPlutowouldbeaverybadidea.Andyet…Please,Dad,shefoundherselfpraying.IhavetofindawaytoyourtempleinGreece—theHouseofHades.Ifyou’redownthere,showmewhattodo.Attheedgeofthehorizon,aflickerofmovementcaughthereye—somethingsmallandbeigeracingacrossthefieldsatincrediblespeed,leavingavaportraillikeaplane’s.Hazelcouldn’tbelieveit.Shedidn’tdarehope,butithadtobe…“Arion.”“What?”Nicoasked.Leoletoutahappywhoopasthedustcloudgotcloser.“It’sherhorse,man!Youmissedthatwholepart.Wehaven’tseenhimsinceKansas!”Hazellaughed—thefirsttimeshe’dlaughedindays.Itfeltsogoodtoseeheroldfriend.Aboutamiletothenorth,thesmallbeigedotcircledahillandstoppedatthesummit.Hewasdifficulttomakeout,butwhenthehorserearedandwhinnied,thesoundcarriedallthewaytotheArgoII.Hazelhadnodoubt—itwasArion.“Wehavetomeethim,”shesaid.“He’sheretohelp.”“Yeah,okay.”Leoscratchedhishead.“But,uh,wetalkedaboutnotlandingtheshiponthegroundanymore,remember?Youknow,withGaeawantingtodestroyus,andall.”“Justgetmeclose,andI’llusetheropeladder.”Hazel’sheartwaspounding.“IthinkArionwantstotellmesomething.”