RICKRIORDAN

THESONofSOBEK

ACarterKane/PercyJacksonAdventure

Contents

TheSonofSobek

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

CARTER

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.”