RICKRIORDAN
THESONofSOBEK
ACarterKane/PercyJacksonAdventure
Contents
TheSonofSobek
ABOUTTHEAUTHOR
RickRiordanisthecreatoroftheaward-winning,bestsellingPercyJacksonseriesandthe
thrillingKaneChroniclesseries.AccordingtoRick,theideaforthePercyJacksonstories
wasinspiredbyhissonHaley.ButrumourhasitthatCampHalf-Bloodactuallyexists,
andRickspendshissummersthererecordingtheadventuresofyoungdemigods.Some
believethat,toavoidamasspanicamongthemortalpopulation,hewasforcedtoswear
ontheRiverStyxtopresentPercyJackson’sstoryasfiction.RicklivesinTexas(apart
fromhissummersonHalf-BloodHill)withhiswifeandtwosons.Tolearnmoreabout
himandthePercyJacksonandKaneChroniclesseries,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-time
worrieraboutalltheEgyptiangodsandmonsterswhoareconstantlytryingtokillme.
Okay,thatlastpartisanexaggeration.Notallthegodswantmedead.Justalotofthem
–butthatkindofgoeswiththeterritory,sinceI’mamagicianintheHouseofLife.We’re
likethepoliceforAncientEgyptiansupernaturalforces,makingsuretheydon’tcausetoo
muchhavocinthemodernworld.
Anyway,onthisparticulardayIwastrackingdownaroguemonsteronLongIsland.
Ourscryershadbeensensingmagicaldisturbancesintheareaforseveralweeks.Thenthe
localnewsstartedreportingthatalargecreaturehadbeensightedinthepondsand
marshesneartheMontaukHighway–acreaturethatwaseatingthewildlifeandscaring
thelocals.OnereporterevencalledittheLongIslandSwampMonster.Whenmortals
startraisingthealarm,youknowit’stimetocheckthingsout.
Normallymysister,Sadie,orsomeofourotherinitiatesfromBrooklynHouse
would’vecomewithme.ButtheywereallattheFirstNomeinEgyptforaweek-long
trainingsessiononcontrollingcheesedemons(yes,they’rearealthing–believeme,you
don’twanttoknow),soIwasonmyown.
IhitchedourflyingreedboattoFreak,mypetgriffin,andwespentthemorning
buzzingaroundthesouthshore,lookingforsignsoftrouble.Ifyou’rewonderingwhyI
didn’tjustrideonFreak’sback,imaginetwohummingbird-likewingsbeatingfasterand
morepowerfullythanhelicopterblades.Unlessyouwanttogetshredded,it’sreallybetter
torideintheboat.
Freakhadaprettygoodnoseformagic.Afteracoupleofhoursonpatrol,heshrieked,
‘FREEEEEEK!’andbankedhardtotheleft,circlingoveragreenmarshyinletbetween
twoneighbourhoods.
‘Downthere?’Iasked.
Freakshiveredandsquawked,whippinghisbarbedtailnervously.
Icouldn’tseemuchbelowus–justabrownriverglitteringinthehotsummerair,
windingthroughswampgrassandclumpsofgnarledtreesuntilitemptiedintoMoriches
Bay.ThearealookedabitliketheNileDeltabackinEgypt,exceptherethewetlands
weresurroundedonbothsidesbyresidentialneighbourhoodswithrowafterrowofgreyroofedhouses.Justtothenorth,alineofcarsinchedalongtheMontaukHighway–
vacationersescapingthecrowdsinthecitytoenjoythecrowdsintheHamptons.
Iftherereallywasacarnivorousswampmonsterbelowus,Iwonderedhowlongit
wouldbebeforeitdevelopedatasteforhumans.Ifthathappened…well,itwas
surroundedbyanall-you-can-eatbuffet.
‘Okay,’ItoldFreak.‘Setmedownbytheriverbank.’
AssoonasIsteppedoutoftheboat,Freakscreechedandzoomedintothesky,theboat
trailingbehindhim.
‘Hey!’Iyelledafterhim,butitwastoolate.
Freakiseasilyspooked.Flesh-eatingmonsterstendtoscarehimaway.Sodofireworks,
clownsandthesmellofSadie’sweirdBritishRibenadrink.(Can’tblamehimonthatlast
one.SadiegrewupinLondonanddevelopedsomeprettystrangetastes.)
Iwouldhavetotakecareofthismonsterproblem,thenwhistleforFreaktopickmeup
onceIwasdone.
Iopenedmybackpackandcheckedmysupplies:someenchantedrope,mycurved
ivorywand,alumpofwaxformakingamagicalshabtifigurine,mycalligraphysetanda
healingpotionmyfriendJazhadbrewedformeawhileback.(SheknewthatIgothurta
lot.)
TherewasjustonemorethingIneeded.
IconcentratedandreachedintotheDuat.Overthelastfewmonths,I’dgotbetterat
storingemergencyprovisionsintheshadowrealm–extraweapons,cleanclothes,Fruitby
theFootandchilledsix-packsofrootbeer–butstickingmyhandintoamagical
dimensionstillfeltweird,likepushingthroughlayersofcold,heavycurtains.Iclosedmy
fingersroundthehiltofmyswordandpulleditout–aweightykhopeshwithablade
curvedlikeaquestionmark.Armedwithmyswordandwand,Iwasallsetforastroll
throughtheswamptolookforahungrymonster.Oh,joy!
Iwadedintothewaterandimmediatelysanktomyknees.Theriverbottomfeltlike
congealedstew.Witheverystep,myshoesmadesuchrudenoises–suck-plop,suck-plop
–thatIwasgladSadiewasn’twithme.Sheneverwould’vestoppedlaughing.
Evenworse,makingthismuchnoise,IknewIwouldn’tbeabletosneakuponany
monsters.
Mosquitoesswarmedme.SuddenlyIfeltnervousandalone.
Couldbeworse,Itoldmyself.Icouldbestudyingcheesedemons.
ButIcouldn’tquiteconvincemyself.Inanearbyneighbourhood,Iheardkidsshouting
andlaughing,probablyplayingsomekindofgame.Iwonderedwhatthatwouldbelike–
beinganormalkid,hangingoutwithmyfriendsonasummerafternoon.
TheideawassoniceIgotdistracted.Ididn’tnoticetheripplesinthewateruntilfifty
yardsaheadofmesomethingbrokethesurface–alineofleatheryblackish-greenbumps.
Instantlyitsubmergedagain,butIknewwhatIwasdealingwithnow.I’dseencrocodiles
before,andthiswasafreakishlybigone.
IrememberedElPaso,thewinterbeforelast,whenmysisterandIhadbeenattackedby
thecrocodilegodSobek.Thatwasn’tagoodmemory.
Sweattrickleddownmyneck.
‘Sobek,’Imurmured,‘ifthat’syou,messingwithmeagain,IsweartoRa…’
Thecrocgodhadpromisedtoleaveusalonenowthatweweretightwithhisboss,the
sungod.Still…crocodilesgethungry.Thentheytendtoforgettheirpromises.
Noanswerfromthewater.Theripplessubsided.
Whenitcametosensingmonsters,mymagicinstinctsweren’tverysharp,butthewater
infrontofmeseemedmuchdarker.Thatmeanteitheritwasdeep,orsomethinglargewas
lurkingunderthesurface.
IalmosthopeditwasSobek.AtleastthenIstoodachanceoftalkingtohimbeforehe
killedme.Sobeklovedtoboast.
Unfortunately,itwasn’thim.
Thenextmicrosecond,asthewatereruptedaroundme,IrealizedtoolatethatI
should’vebroughttheentireTwenty-firstNometohelpme.Iregisteredglowingyellow
eyesasbigasmyhead,theglintofgoldjewelleryroundamassiveneck.Thenmonstrous
jawsopened–ridgesofcrookedteethandanexpanseofpinkmawwideenoughtogulp
downagarbagetruck.
Andthecreatureswallowedmewhole.
Imaginebeingshrink-wrappedupsidedowninsideagiganticslimygarbagebagwithno
air.Beinginthemonster’sbellywaslikethat,onlyhotterandsmellier.
ForamomentIwastoostunnedtodoanything.Icouldn’tbelieveIwasstillalive.If
thecrocodile’smouthhadbeensmaller,hemighthavesnappedmeinhalf.Asitwas,he
hadgulpedmedowninasingleCarter-sizeserving,soIcouldlookforwardtobeing
slowlydigested.
Lucky,right?
Themonsterstartedthrashingaround,whichmadeithardtothink.Iheldmybreath,
knowingthatitmightbemylast.Istillhadmyswordandwand,butIcouldn’tusethem
withmyarmspinnedtomyside.Icouldn’treachanyofthestuffinmybag.
Whichleftonlyoneanswer:awordofpower.IfIcouldthinkoftherighthieroglyphic
symbolandspeakitaloud,Icouldsummonsomeindustrial-strengthwrath-of-the-godstypemagictobustmywayoutofthisreptile.
Intheory:agreatsolution.
Inpractice:I’mnotsogoodatwordsofpowereveninthebestofsituations.
Suffocatinginsideadark,smellyreptilegulletwasn’thelpingmefocus.
Youcandothis,Itoldmyself.
AfterallthedangerousadventuresI’dhad,Icouldn’tdielikethis.Sadiewouldbe
devastated.Then,onceshegotoverhergrief,she’dtrackdownmysoulintheEgyptian
afterlifeandteasememercilesslyforhowstupidI’dbeen.
Mylungsburned.Iwasblackingout.Ipickedawordofpower,summonedallmy
concentrationandpreparedtospeak.
Suddenlythemonsterlurchedupwards.Heroared,whichsoundedreallyweirdfromthe
inside,andhisthroatcontractedroundmelikeIwasbeingsqueezedfromatoothpaste
tube.Ishotoutofthecreature’smouthandtumbledintothemarshgrass.
SomehowIgottomyfeet.Istaggeredaround,halfblind,gaspingandcoveredwith
crocodilegoo,whichsmelledlikeascummyfishtank.
Thesurfaceoftheriverchurnedwithbubbles.Thecrocodilewasgone,butstandingin
themarshabouttwentyfeetawaywasateenageguyinjeansandafadedorangeT-shirt
thatsaidCAMPsomething.Icouldn’treadtherest.Helookedalittleolderthanme–
maybeseventeen–withtousledblackhairandsea-greeneyes.Whatreallycaughtmy
attentionwashissword–astraightdouble-edgedbladeglowingwithfaintbronzelight.
I’mnotsurewhichofuswasmoresurprised.
Forasecond,CamperBoyjuststaredatme.Henotedmykhopeshandwand,andIgot
thefeelingthatheactuallysawthesethingsastheywere.Normalmortalshavetrouble
seeingmagic.Theirbrainscan’tinterpretit,sotheymightlookatmysword,forinstance,
andseeabaseballbatorawalkingstick.
Butthiskid…hewasdifferent.Ifiguredhemustbeamagician.Theonlyproblemwas
I’dmetmostofthemagiciansintheNorthAmericannomes,andI’dneverseenthisguy
before.I’dalsoneverseenaswordlikethat.Everythingabouthimseemed…unEgyptian.
‘Thecrocodile,’Isaid,tryingtokeepmyvoicecalmandeven.‘Wherediditgo?’
CamperBoyfrowned.‘You’rewelcome.’
‘What?’
‘Istuckthatcrocintherump.’Hemimickedtheactionwithhissword.‘That’swhyit
vomitedyouup.So,you’rewelcome.Whatwereyoudoinginthere?’
I’lladmitIwasn’tinthebestmood.Ismelled.Ihurt.And,yeah,Iwasalittle
embarrassed:themightyCarterKane,headofBrooklynHouse,hadbeendisgorgedfrom
acroc’smouthlikeagianthairball.
‘Iwasresting,’Isnapped.‘WhatdoyouthinkIwasdoing?Now,whoareyou,andwhy
areyoufightingmymonster?’
‘Yourmonster?’Theguytrudgedtowardsmethroughthewater.Hedidn’tseemtohave
anytroublewiththemud.‘Look,man,Idon’tknowwhoyouare,butthatcrocodilehas
beenterrorizingLongIslandforweeks.Itakethatkindofpersonally,asthisismyhome
turf.Afewdaysago,itateoneofourpegasi.’
AjoltwentupmyspinelikeI’dbackedintoanelectricfence.‘Didyousaypegasi?’
Hewavedthequestionaside.‘Isityourmonsterornot?’
‘Idon’townit!’Igrowled.‘I’mtryingtostopit!Now,where–’
‘Thecrocheadedthatway.’Hepointedhisswordtothesouth.‘Iwouldalreadybe
chasingit,butyousurprisedme.’
Hesizedmeup,whichwasdisconcertingsincehewashalfafoottaller.Istillcouldn’t
readhisT-shirtexceptforthewordCAMP.Roundhisneckhungaleatherstrapwith
somecolourfulclaybeads,likeakid’sarts-and-craftsproject.Hewasn’tcarryinga
magician’spackorawand.MaybehekeptthemintheDuat?Ormaybehewasjusta
delusionalmortalwho’daccidentallyfoundamagicswordandthoughthewasa
superhero.Ancientrelicscanreallymesswithyourmind.
Finallyheshookhishead.‘Igiveup.SonofAres?You’vegottobeahalf-blood,but
whathappenedtoyoursword?It’sallbent.’
‘It’sakhopesh.’Myshockwasrapidlyturningtoanger.‘It’ssupposedtobecurved.’
ButIwasn’tthinkingaboutthesword.
CamperBoyhadjustcalledmeahalf-blood?MaybeIhadn’theardhimright.Maybe
hemeantsomethingelse.ButmydadwasAfrican-American.Mymomwaswhite.Halfbloodwasn’tawordIliked.
‘Justgetoutofhere,’Isaid,grittingmyteeth.‘I’vegotacrocodiletocatch.’
‘Dude,Ihavetocatchthecrocodile,’heinsisted.‘Lasttimeyoutried,itateyou.
Remember?’
Myfingerstightenedroundmyswordhilt.‘Ihadeverythingundercontrol.Iwasabout
tosummonafist–’
Forwhathappenednext,Itakefullresponsibility.
Ididn’tmeanit.Honestly.ButIwasangry.And,asImayhavementioned,I’mnot
alwaysgoodatchannellingwordsofpower.WhileIwasinthecrocodile’sbelly,I’dbeen
preparingtosummontheFistofHorus:agiantglowingbluehandthatcanpulverize
doors,wallsandprettymuchanythingelsethatgetsinyourway.Myplanhadbeento
punchmywayoutofthemonster.Gross,yes,buthopefullyeffective.
Iguessthatspellwasstillinmyhead,readytobetriggeredlikealoadedgun.Facing
CamperBoy,Iwasfurious,nottomentioneddazedandconfused;sowhenImeanttosay
theEnglishwordfistitcameoutinAncientEgyptianinstead:khefa.
Suchasimplehieroglyph:
Youwouldn’tthinkitcouldcausesomuchtrouble.
AssoonasIspoketheword,thesymbolblazedintheairbetweenus.Agiantfistthe
sizeofadishwashershimmeredintoexistenceandslammedCamperBoyintothenext
county.
ImeanIliterallypunchedhimoutofhisshoes.Herocketedfromtheriverwithaloud
suck-plop!AndthelastthingIsawwashisbarefeetachievingescapevelocityasheflew
backwardsanddisappearedfromsight.
No,Ididn’tfeelgoodaboutit.Well…maybeatinybitgood.ButIalsofeltmortified.
Eveniftheguywasajerk,magiciansweren’tsupposedtogoaroundsucker-punching
kidsintoorbitwiththeFistofHorus.
‘Oh,great.’Ihitmyselfontheforehead.
Istartedtowadeacrossthemarsh,worriedthatI’dactuallykilledtheguy.‘Man,I’m
sorry!’Iyelled,hopinghecouldhearme.‘Areyou–?’
Thewavecameoutofnowhere.
Atwenty-footwallofwaterslammedintomeandpushedmebackintotheriver.Icame
upspluttering,ahorribletastelikefishfoodinmymouth.Iblinkedthegunkoutofmy
eyesjustintimetoseeCamperBoyleapingtowardsmeninja-style,hisswordraised.
Iliftedmykhopeshtodeflecttheblow.Ijustmanagedtokeepmyheadfrombeing
cleavedinhalf,butCamperBoywasstrongandquick.AsIreeledbackwards,hestruck
againandagain.Eachtime,Iwasabletoparry,butIcouldtellIwasoutmatched.His
bladewaslighterandquicker,and–yes,I’lladmitit–hewasabetterswordsman.
IwantedtoexplainthatI’dmadeamistake.Iwasn’treallyhisenemy.ButIneededall
myconcentrationjusttokeepfromgettingsliceddownthemiddle.
CamperBoy,however,hadnotroubletalking.
‘NowIgetit,’hesaid,swingingatmyhead.‘You’resomekindofmonster.’
CLANG!Iinterceptedthestrikeandstaggeredback.
‘I’mnotamonster,’Imanaged.
Tobeatthisguy,I’dhavetousemorethanjustasword.TheproblemwasIdidn’twant
tohurthim.DespitethefactthathewastryingtochopmeintoaKane-flavouredbarbecue
sandwich,Istillfeltbadforstartingthefight.
Heswungagain,andIhadnochoice.Iusedmywandthistime,catchinghisbladein
thecrookofivoryandchannellingaburstofmagicstraightuphisarm.Theairbetweenus
flashedandcrackled.CamperBoystumbledback.Bluesparksofsorcerypoppedaround
him,asifmyspelldidn’tknowquitewhattodowithhim.Whowasthisguy?
‘Yousaidthecrocodilewasyours.’CamperBoyscowled,angerblazinginhisgreen
eyes.‘Youlostyourpet,Isuppose.Maybeyou’reaspiritfromtheUnderworld,come
throughtheDoorsofDeath?’
BeforeIcouldevenprocessthatquestion,hethrustouthisfreehand.Theriverreversed
courseandsweptmeoffmyfeet.
Imanagedtogetup,butIwasgettingreallytiredofdrinkingswampwater.Meanwhile,
CamperBoychargedagain,hisswordraisedforthekill.Indesperation,Idroppedmy
wand.Ithrustmyhandintomybackpack,andmyfingersclosedroundthepieceofrope.
Ithrewitandyelledthecommandword‘TAS!’–bind–justasCamperBoy’sbronze
bladecutintomywrist.
Mywholearmeruptedinagony.Myvisiontunnelled.Yellowspotsdancedbeforemy
eyes.Idroppedmyswordandclutchedmywrist,gaspingforbreath,everythingforgotten
excepttheexcruciatingpain.
Inthebackofmymind,IknewCamperBoycouldkillmeeasily.Forsomereasonhe
didn’t.Awaveofnauseamademedoubleover.
Iforcedmyselftolookatthewound.Therewasalotofblood,butIremembered
somethingJazhadtoldmeonceintheinfirmaryatBrooklynHouse:cutsusuallylookeda
lotworsethantheywere.Ihopedthatwastrue.Ifishedapieceofpapyrusoutofmy
backpackandpresseditagainstthewoundasamakeshiftbandage.
Thepainwasstillhorrible,butthenauseabecamemoremanageable.Mythoughts
startedtoclear,andIwonderedwhyIhadn’tbeenskeweredyet.
CamperBoywassittingnearbyinwaist-deepwater,lookingdejected.Mymagicrope
hadwrappedroundhisswordarm,thenlashedhishandtothesideofhishead.Unableto
letgoofhissword,helookedlikehehadasinglereindeerantlersproutingnexttohisear.
Hetuggedattheropewithhisfreehand,butofcoursehecouldn’tmakeanyprogress.
Finallyhejustsighedandglaredatme.‘I’mreallystartingtohateyou.’
‘Hateme?’Iprotested.‘I’mgushingbloodhere!Andyoustartedallthisbycallingmea
half-blood!’
‘Oh,please.’CamperBoyroseunsteadily,hisswordantennamakinghimtop-heavy.
‘Youcan’tbemortal.Ifyouwere,myswordwould’vepassedrightthroughyou.Ifyou’re
notaspiritoramonster,you’vegottobeahalf-blood.AroguedemigodfromKronos’s
army,I’dguess.’
Mostofwhatthisguysaid,Ididn’tunderstand.Butonethingsankin.
‘Sowhenyousaid“half-blood”…’
HestaredatmelikeIwasanidiot.‘Imeantdemigod.Yeah.WhatdidyouthinkI
meant?’
Itriedtoprocessthat.I’dheardthetermdemigodbefore,butitwasn’tanEgyptian
concept.MaybethisguywassensingthatIwasboundtoHorus,thatIcouldchannelthe
god’spower…butwhydidhedescribeeverythingsostrangely?
‘Whatareyou?’Idemanded.‘Partcombatmagician,partwaterelementalist?What
nomeareyouwith?’
Thekidlaughedbitterly.‘Dude,Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Idon’thang
outwithgnomes.Satyrs,sometimes.EvenCyclopes.Butnotgnomes.’
Thebloodlossmusthavebeenmakingmedizzy.Hiswordsbouncedaroundinmy
headlikelotteryballs:Cyclopes,satyrs,demigods,Kronos.Earlierhe’dmentionedAres.
ThatwasaGreekgod,notEgyptian.
IfeltliketheDuatwasopeningunderneathme,threateningtopullmeintothedepths.
Greek…notEgyptian.
Anideastartedforminginmymind.Ididn’tlikeit.Infact,itscaredtheholyHorusout
ofme.
DespitealltheswampwaterI’dswallowed,mythroatfeltdry.‘Look,’Isaid,‘I’msorry
abouthittingyouwiththatfistspell.Itwasanaccident.ButthethingIdon’tunderstand
…itshouldhavekilledyou.Itdidn’t.Thatdoesn’tmakesense.’
‘Don’tsoundsodisappointed,’hemuttered.‘But,whilewe’reonthesubject,you
shouldbedeadtoo.Notmanypeoplecanfightmethatwell.Andmyswordshouldhave
vaporizedyourcrocodile.’
‘Forthelasttime,it’snotmycrocodile.’
‘Okay,whatever.’CamperBoylookeddubious.‘ThepointisIstuckthatcrocodile
prettygood,butIjustmadeitangry.Celestialbronzeshould’veturnedittodust.’
‘Celestialbronze?’
Ourconversationwascutshortbyascreamfromthenearbyneighbourhood–the
terrifiedvoiceofakid.
Myheartdidaslowroll.Ireallywasanidiot.I’dforgottenwhywewerehere.
IlockedeyeswithCamperBoy.‘We’vegottostopthecrocodile.’
‘Truce,’hesuggested.
‘Yeah,’Isaid.‘Wecancontinuekillingeachotherafterthecrocodileistakencareof.’
‘Deal.Now,couldyoupleaseuntiemyswordhandfrommyhead?Ifeellikeafreaking
unicorn.’
Iwon’tsaywetrustedeachother,butatleastnowwehadacommoncause.Hesummoned
hisshoesoutoftheriver–Ihadnoideahow–andputthemon.Thenhehelpedmebind
myhandwithastripoflinenandwaitedwhileIswiggeddownhalfofmyhealingpotion.
Afterthat,Ifeltgoodenoughtoraceafterhimtowardsthesoundofthescreaming.
IthoughtIwasinprettygoodshape–whatwithcombatmagicpractice,haulingheavy
artefactsandplayingbasketballwithKhufuandhisbaboonfriends(baboonsdon’tmess
aroundwhenitcomestohoops).Nevertheless,IhadtostruggletokeepupwithCamper
Boy.
Whichremindedme,Iwasgettingtiredofcallinghimthat.
‘What’syourname?’Iasked,wheezingasIranbehindhim.
Hegavemeacautiousglance.‘I’mnotsureIshouldtellyou.Namescanbe
dangerous.’
Hewasright,ofcourse.Namesheldpower.Awhileback,mysister,Sadie,hadlearned
myren,mysecretname,anditstillcausedmeallsortsofanxiety.Evenwithsomeone’s
commonname,askilledmagiciancouldworkallkindsofmischief.
‘Fairenough,’Isaid.‘I’llgofirst.I’mCarter.’
Iguesshebelievedme.Thelinesaroundhiseyesrelaxedabit.
‘Percy,’heoffered.
Thatstruckmeasanunusualname–British,maybe,thoughthekidspokeandacted
verymuchlikeanAmerican.
Wejumpedarottenlogandfinallymadeitoutofthemarsh.We’dstartedclimbinga
grassyslopetowardsthenearesthouseswhenIrealizedmorethanonevoicewas
screaminguptherenow.Notagoodsign.
‘Justtowarnyou,’ItoldPercy,‘youcan’tkillthemonster.’
‘Watchme,’Percygrumbled.
‘No,Imeanit’simmortal.’
‘I’veheardthatbefore.I’vevaporizedplentyofimmortalsandsentthembackto
Tartarus.’
Tartarus?Ithought.
TalkingtoPercywasgivingmeaseriousheadache.Itremindedmeofthetimemydad
tookmetoScotlandforoneofhisEgyptologylectures.I’dtriedtotalkwithsomeofthe
localsandIknewtheywerespeakingEnglish,buteveryothersentenceseemedtoslipinto
analternatelanguage–differentwords,differentpronunciations–andI’dwonderwhat
thehecktheyweresaying.Percywaslikethat.HeandIalmostspokethesamelanguage–
magic,monsters,etcetera.Buthisvocabularywascompletelywrong.
‘No,’Itriedagain,halfwayupthehill.‘Thismonsterisapetsuchos–asonofSobek.’
‘Who’sSobek?’heasked.
‘Lordofcrocodiles.Egyptiangod.’
Thatstoppedhiminhistracks.Hestaredatme,andIcouldsweartheairbetweenus
turnedelectric.Avoice,verydeepinmymind,said:Shutup.Don’ttellhimanymore.
PercyglancedatthekhopeshI’dretrievedfromtheriver,thenthewandinmybelt.
‘Whereareyoufrom?Honestly.’
‘Originally?’Iasked.‘LosAngeles.NowIliveinBrooklyn.’
Thatdidn’tseemtomakehimfeelanybetter.‘Sothismonster,thispet-suck-oor
whatever–’
‘Petsuchos,’Isaid.‘It’saGreekword,butthemonsterisEgyptian.Itwaslikethe
mascotofSobek’stemple,worshippedasalivinggod.’
Percygrunted.‘YousoundlikeAnnabeth.’
‘Who?’
‘Nothing.Justskipthehistorylesson.Howdowekillit?’
‘Itoldyou–’
Fromabovecameanotherscream,followedbyaloudCRUNCH,likethesoundmade
byametalcompactor.
Wesprintedtothetopofthehill,thenhoppedthefenceofsomebody’sbackyardand
ranintoaresidentialcul-de-sac.
Exceptforthegiantcrocodileinthemiddleofthestreet,theneighbourhoodcouldhave
beenAnywhere,USA.Ringingthecul-de-sacwerehalfadozensingle-storeyhomeswith
well-keptfrontlawns,economycarsinthedriveways,mailboxesatthekerb,flags
hangingabovethefrontporches.
Unfortunately,theall-Americanscenewaskindofruinedbythemonster,whowas
busilyeatingagreenPriushatchbackwithabumperstickerthatreadMYPOODLEIS
SMARTERTHANYOURHONOURSTUDENT.Maybethepetsuchosthoughtthe
Toyotawasanothercrocodile,andhewasassertinghisdominance.Maybehejustdidn’t
likepoodlesand/orhonourstudents.
Whateverthecase,ondrylandthecrocodilelookedevenscarierthanhehadinthe
water.Hewasaboutfortyfeetlong,astallasadeliverytruck,withatailsomassiveand
powerfulitoverturnedcarseverytimeitswished.Hisskinglistenedblackishgreenand
gushedwaterthatpooledaroundhisfeet.IrememberedSobekoncetellingmethathis
divinesweatcreatedtheriversoftheworld.Yuck.Iguessedthismonsterhadthesame
holyperspiration.Doubleyuck.
Thecreature’seyesglowedwithasicklyyellowlight.Hisjaggedteethgleamedwhite.
Buttheweirdestthingabouthimwashisbling.Roundhisneckhunganelaboratecollarof
goldchainsandenoughpreciousstonestobuyaprivateisland.
ThenecklacewashowIhadrealizedthemonsterwasapetsuchos,backatthemarsh.
I’dreadthatthesacredanimalofSobekworesomethingjustlikeitbackinEgypt,though
whatthemonsterwasdoinginaLongIslandneighbourhood,Ihadnoidea.
AsPercyandItookinthescene,thecrocodileclampeddownandbitthegreenPriusin
half,sprayingglassandmetalandpiecesofairbagacrossthelawns.
Assoonashedroppedthewreckage,halfadozenkidsappearedfromnowhere–
apparentlythey’dbeenhidingbehindsomeoftheothercars–andchargedthemonster,
screamingatthetopoftheirlungs.
Icouldn’tbelieveit.Theywerejustelementary-agekids,armedwithnothingbutwater
balloonsandSuperSoakers.Iguessedthattheywereonsummerbreakandhadbeen
coolingoffwithawaterfightwhenthemonsterinterruptedthem.
Therewerenoadultsinsight.Maybetheywereallatwork.Maybetheywereinside,
passedoutfromfright.
Thekidslookedangryratherthanscared.Theyranroundthecrocodile,lobbingwater
balloonsthatsplashedharmlesslyagainstthemonster’shide.
Uselessandstupid?Yes.ButIcouldn’thelpadmiringtheirbravery.Theyweretrying
theirbesttofacedownamonsterthathadinvadedtheirneighbourhood.
Maybetheysawthecrocodileforwhatitwas.Maybetheirmortalbrainsmadethem
thinkitwasanescapedelephantfromthezoo,oracrazedFedExdeliverydriverwitha
deathwish.
Whatevertheysaw,theywereindanger.
Mythroatclosedup.IthoughtaboutmyinitiatesbackatBrooklynHouse,whowereno
olderthanthesekids,andmyprotective‘bigbrother’instinctskickedin.Ichargedintothe
street,yelling,‘Getawayfromit!Run!’
ThenIthrewmywandstraightatthecrocodile’shead.‘Sa-mir!’
Thewandhitthecroconthesnout,andbluelightrippledacrosshisbody.Alloverthe
monster’shide,thehieroglyphforpainflickered:
Everywhereitappeared,thecroc’sskinsmokedandsparked,causingthemonsterto
writheandbellowinannoyance.
Thekidsscattered,hidingbehindruinedcarsandmailboxes.Thepetsuchosturnedhis
glowingyelloweyesonme.
Atmyside,Percywhistledunderhisbreath.‘Well,yougothisattention.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Yousurewecan’tkillhim?’heasked.
‘Yeah.’
Thecrocodileseemedtobefollowingourconversation.Hisyelloweyesflickedback
andforthbetweenus,asifdecidingwhichofustoeatfirst.
‘Evenifyoucoulddestroyhisbody,’Isaid,‘hewouldjustreappearsomewherenearby.
Thatnecklace?It’senchantedwiththepowerofSobek.Tobeatthemonster,wehaveto
getthatnecklaceoff.Thenthepetsuchosshouldshrinkbackintoaregularcrocodile.’
‘Ihatethewordshould,’Percymuttered.‘Fine.I’llgetthenecklace.Youkeephim
occupied.’
‘WhydoIgettokeephimoccupied?’
‘Becauseyou’remoreannoying,’Percysaid.‘Justtrynottogeteatenagain.’
‘ROARR!’themonsterbellowed,hisbreathlikeaseafoodrestaurant’sdumpster.
IwasabouttoarguethatPercywasplentyannoying,butIdidn’tgetthechance.The
petsuchoscharged,andmynewcomrade-in-armssprintedtooneside,leavingmerightin
thepathofdestruction.
Firstrandomthought:Gettingeatentwiceinonedaywouldbeveryembarrassing.
Outofthecornerofmyeye,IsawPercydashingtowardsthemonster’srightflank.I
heardthemortalkidscomeoutfromtheirhidingplaces,yellingandthrowingmorewater
balloonsliketheyweretryingtoprotectme.
Thepetsuchoslumberedtowardsme,hisjawsopeningtosnapmeup.
AndIgotangry.
I’dfacedtheworstEgyptiangods.I’dplungedintotheDuatandtrekkedacrossthe
LandofDemons.I’dstoodattheveryshoresofChaos.Iwasnotgoingtobackdown
fromanovergrowngator.
Theaircrackledwithpowerasmycombatavatarformedroundme–aglowingblue
exoskeletonintheshapeofHorus.
ItliftedmeoffthegrounduntilIwassuspendedinthemiddleofatwenty-foot-tall,
hawk-headedwarrior.Isteppedforward,bracingmyself,andtheavatarmimickedmy
stance.
Percyyelled,‘HolyHera!Whatthe–?’
Thecrocodileslammedintome.
Henearlytoppledme.Hisjawsclosedroundmyavatar’sfreearm,butIslashedthe
hawkwarrior’sglowingblueswordatthecrocodile’sneck.
Maybethepetsuchoscouldn’tbekilled.Iwasatleasthopingtocutthroughthe
necklacethatwasthesourceofhispower.
Unfortunately,myswingwentwide.Ihitthemonster’sshoulder,cleavinghishide.
Insteadofblood,hespilledsand,whichisprettytypicalforEgyptianmonsters.Iwould
haveenjoyedseeinghimdisintegratecompletely,butnosuchluck.AssoonasIyanked
mybladefree,thewoundstartedclosingandthesandslowedtoatrickle.Thecrocodile
whippedhisheadfromsidetoside,pullingmeoffmyfeetandshakingmebythearmlike
adogwithachewtoy.
Whenheletmego,Isailedstraightintothenearesthouseandsmashedthroughthe
roof,leavingahawk-warrior-shapedcraterinsomeone’slivingroom.IreallyhopedI
hadn’tjustflattenedsomedefencelessmortalinthemiddleofwatchingDrPhil.
Myvisioncleared,andIsawtwothingsthatirritatedme.First,thecrocodilewas
chargingmeagain.Second,mynewfriendPercywasjuststandinginthemiddleofthe
street,staringatmeinshock.Apparentlymycombatavatarhadstartledhimsomuchhe’d
forgottenhispartoftheplan.
‘Whatthecreepingcrudisthat?’hedemanded.‘You’reinsideagiantglowingchickenman!’
‘Hawk!’Iyelled.
IdecidedthatifIsurvivedthisdayIwouldhavetomakesurethisguynevermetSadie.
They’dprobablytaketurnsinsultingmefortherestofeternity.‘Alittlehelphere?’
Percyunfrozeandrantowardsthecroc.Asthemonsterclosedinonme,Ikickedhimin
thesnout,whichmadehimsneezeandshakehisheadlongenoughformetoextricate
myselffromtheruinedhouse.
Percyjumpedonthecreature’stailandranuphisspine.Themonsterthrashedaround,
hishidesheddingwaterallovertheplace,butsomehowPercymanagedtokeephis
footing.Theguymusthavepractisedgymnasticsorsomething.
Meanwhile,themortalkidshadfoundsomebetterammunition–rocks,scrapmetal
fromthewreckedcars,evenafewtyreirons–andwerehurlingthestuffatthemonster.I
didn’twantthecrocodileturninghisattentiontowardsthem.
‘HEY!’Iswungmykhopeshatthecroc’sface–agoodsolidstrikethatshould’vetaken
offhislowerjaw.Instead,hesomehowsnappedatthebladeandcaughtitinhismouth.
Weendedupwrestlingfortheblueglowingswordasitsizzledinhismouth,makinghis
teethcrumbletosand.Thatcouldn’thavefeltgood,butthecrocheldon,tuggingagainst
me.
‘Percy!’Ishouted.‘Anytimenow!’
Percylungedforthenecklace.Hegrabbedholdandstartedhackingatthegoldlinks,
buthisbronzesworddidn’tmakeadent.
Meanwhile,thecrocwasgoingcrazytryingtoyankawaymysword.Mycombatavatar
startedtoflicker.
Summoninganavatarisashort-termthing,likesprintingattopspeed.Youcan’tdoit
forverylong,oryou’llcollapse.AlreadyIwassweatingandbreathinghard.Myheart
raced.Myreservoirsofmagicwerebeingseverelydepleted.
‘Hurry,’ItoldPercy.
‘Can’tcutit!’hesaid.
‘Aclasp,’Isaid.‘There’sgottabeone.’
AssoonasIsaidthat,Ispottedit–atthemonster’sthroat,agoldencartouche
encirclingthehieroglyphsthatspelledSOBEK.‘There–onthebottom!’
Percyscrambleddownthenecklace,climbingitlikeanet,butatthatmomentmyavatar
collapsed.Idroppedtotheground,exhaustedanddizzy.Theonlythingthatsavedmylife
wasthatthecrocodilehadbeenpullingatmyavatar’ssword.Whenthesword
disappeared,themonsterlurchedbackwardsandstumbledoveraHonda.
Themortalkidsscattered.Onedivedunderacar,onlytohavethecardisappear–
smackedintotheairbythecroc’stail.
Percyreachedthebottomofthenecklaceandhungonfordearlife.Hisswordwas
gone.Probablyhe’ddroppedit.
Meanwhile,themonsterregainedhisfooting.Thegoodnews:hedidn’tseemtonotice
Percy.Thebadnews:hedefinitelynoticedme,andhelookedmightilytorquedoff.
Ididn’thavetheenergytorun,muchlesssummonmagictofight.Atthispoint,the
mortalkidswiththeirwaterballoonsandrockshadmoreofachanceofstoppingthecroc
thanIdid.
Inthedistance,sirenswailed.Somebodyhadcalledthepolice,whichdidn’texactly
cheermeup.Itjustmeantmoremortalswereracinghereasfastastheycouldtovolunteer
ascrocodilesnacks.
Ibackeduptothekerbandtried–ridiculously–tostaredownthemonster.‘Stay,boy.’
Thecrocodilesnorted.Hishideshedwaterlikethegrossestfountainintheworld,
makingmyshoessloshasIwalked.Hislamp-yelloweyesfilmedover,maybefrom
happiness.HeknewIwasdonefor.
Ithrustmyhandintomybackpack.TheonlythingIfoundwasalumpofwax.Ididn’t
havetimetobuildapropershabti,butIhadnobetteridea.Idroppedmypackandstarted
workingthewaxfuriouslywithbothhands,tryingtosoftenit.
‘Percy?’Icalled.
‘Ican’tunlocktheclasp!’heyelled.Ididn’tdaretakemyeyesoffthecroc’s,butinmy
peripheralvisionIcouldseePercypoundinghisfistagainstthebaseofthenecklace.
‘Somekindofmagic?’
Thatwasthesmartestthinghe’dsaidallafternoon(notthathe’dsaidalotofsmart
thingstochoosefrom).Theclaspwasahieroglyphiccartouche.Itwouldtakeamagician
tofigureitoutandopenit.WhateverandwhoeverPercywas,hewasnomagician.
Iwasstillshapingthelumpofwax,tryingtomakeitintoafigurine,whenthecrocodile
decidedtostopsavouringthemomentandjusteatme.Ashelunged,Ithrewmyshabti,
onlyhalfformed,andbarkedacommandword.
Instantlytheworld’smostdeformedhippopotamussprangtolifeinmidair.Itsailed
headfirstintothecrocodile’sleftnostrilandlodgedthere,kickingitsstubbybacklegs.
Notexactlymyfinesttacticalmove,buthavingahipposhoveduphisnosemusthave
beensufficientlydistracting.Thecrocodilehissedandstumbled,shakinghishead,as
Percydroppedoffandrolledaway,barelyavoidingthecrocodile’sstompingfeet.Heran
tojoinmeatthekerb.
Istaredinhorrorasmywaxcreature,nowaliving(thoughverymisshapen)hippo,tried
toeitherwrigglefreeofthecroc’snostrilorworkitswayfurtherintothereptile’ssinus
cavity–Iwasn’tsurewhich.
Thecrocodilewhippedround,andPercygrabbedmejustintime,pullingmeoutofits
tramplingpath.
Wejoggedtotheoppositeendofthecul-de-sac,wherethemortalkidshadgathered.
Amazingly,noneofthemseemedtobehurt.Thecrocodilekeptthrashingandwipingout
homesasittriedtoclearitsnostril.
‘Youokay?’Percyaskedme.
Igaspedforairbutnoddedweakly.
OneofthekidsofferedmehisSuperSoaker.Iwavedhimoff.
‘Youguys,’Percytoldthekids,‘youhearthosesirens?You’vegottorundowntheroad
andstopthepolice.Tellthemit’stoodangerousuphere.Stallthem!’
Forsomereason,thekidslistened.Maybetheywerejusthappytohavesomethingto
do,but,fromthewayPercyspoke,Igotthefeelinghewasusedtorallyingoutnumbered
troops.HesoundedabitlikeHorus–anaturalcommander.
Afterthekidsracedoff,Imanagedtosay,‘Goodcall.’
Percynoddedgrimly.Thecrocodilewasstilldistractedbyitsnasalintruder,butI
doubtedtheshabtiwouldlastmuchlonger.Underthatmuchstress,thehippowouldsoon
meltbacktowax.
‘You’vegotsomemoves,Carter,’Percyadmitted.‘Anythingelseinyourbagoftricks?’
‘Nothing,’Isaiddismally.‘I’mrunningonempty.ButifIcangettothatclaspIthinkI
canopenit.’
Percysizedupthepetsuchos.Thecul-de-sacwasfillingwithwaterthatpouredfromthe
monster’shide.Thesirensweregettinglouder.Wedidn’thavemuchtime.
‘Guessit’smyturntodistractthecroc,’hesaid.‘Getreadytorunforthatnecklace.’
‘Youdon’tevenhaveyoursword,’Iprotested.‘You’lldie!’
Percymanagedacrookedsmile.‘Justruninthereassoonasitstarts.’
‘Assoonaswhatstarts?’
Thenthecrocodilesneezed,launchingthewaxhippoacrossLongIsland.Thepetsuchos
turnedtowardsus,roaringinanger,andPercychargedstraightathim.
Asitturnedout,Ididn’tneedtoaskwhatkindofdistractionPercyhadinmind.Onceit
started,itwasprettyobvious.
Hestoppedinfrontofthecrocodileandraisedhisarms.Ifiguredhewasplanningsome
kindofmagic,buthespokenocommandwords.Hehadnostafforwand.Hejuststood
thereandlookedupatthecrocodileasiftosay,HereIam!I’mtasty!
Thecrocodileseemedmomentarilysurprised.Ifnothingelse,wewoulddieknowing
thatwe’dconfusedthismonstermany,manytimes.
Crocsweatkeptpouringoffhisbody.Thebrackishstuffwasuptothekerbnow,upto
ourankles.Itsloughedintothestormdrainsbutjustcontinuedspillingfromthecroc’s
skin.
ThenIsawwhatwashappening.AsPercyraisedhisarms,thewaterbeganswirling
counterclockwise.Itstartedaroundthecroc’sfeetandquicklybuiltupspeeduntilthe
whirlpoolencompassedtheentirecul-de-sac,spinningstronglyenoughthatIcouldfeelit
pullingmesideways.
BythetimeIrealizedI’dbetterstartrunning,thecurrentwasalreadytoofast.I’dhave
toreachthenecklacesomeotherway.
Onelasttrick,Ithought.
Ifearedtheeffortmightliterallyburnmeup,butIsummonedmyfinalbitofmagical
energyandtransformedintoafalcon–thesacredanimalofHorus.
Instantly,myvisionwasahundredtimessharper.Isoaredupwards,abovetherooftops,
andtheentireworldswitchedtohigh-definition3D.Isawthepolicecarsonlyafew
blocksaway,thekidsstandinginthemiddleofthestreet,wavingthemdown.Icould
makeouteveryslimybumpandporeonthecrocodile’shide.Icouldseeeachhieroglyph
ontheclaspofthenecklace.AndIcouldseejusthowimpressivePercy’smagictrickwas.
Theentirecul-de-sacwasengulfedinahurricane.Percystoodattheedge,unmoved,
butthewaterwaschurningsofastnowthateventhegiantcrocodilelosthisfooting.
Wreckedcarsscrapedalongthepavement.Mailboxeswerepulledoutoflawnsandswept
away.Thewaterincreasedinvolumeaswellasspeed,risingupandturningtheentire
neighbourhoodintoaliquidcentrifuge.
Itwasmyturntobestunned.Afewmomentsago,I’ddecidedPercywasnomagician.
YetI’dneverseenamagicianwhocouldcontrolsomuchwater.
Thecrocodilestumbledandstruggled,shufflinginacirclewiththecurrent.
‘Anytimenow,’Percymutteredthroughgrittedteeth.Withoutmyfalconhearing,I
neverwould’veheardhimthroughthestorm,butIrealizedhewastalkingtome.
IrememberedIhadajobtodo.Noone,magicianorotherwise,couldcontrolthatkind
ofpowerforlong.
Ifoldedmywingsanddivedforthecrocodile.WhenIreachedthenecklace’sclasp,I
turnedbacktohumanandgrabbedhold.Allaroundme,thehurricaneroared.Icould
barelyseethroughtheswirlofmist.Thecurrentwassostrongnowittuggedatmylegs,
threateningtopullmeintotheflood.
Iwassotired.Ihadn’tfeltthispushedbeyondmylimitssinceI’dfoughttheChaos
lord,Apophishimself.
Iranmyhandoverthehieroglyphsontheclasp.Therehadtobeasecrettounlocking
it.
Thecrocodilebellowedandstomped,fightingtostayonitsfeet.Somewheretomyleft,
Percyyelledinrageandfrustration,tryingtokeepupthestorm,butthewhirlpoolwas
startingtoslow.
Ihadafewsecondsatbestuntilthecrocodilebrokefreeandattacked.ThenPercyandI
wouldbothbedead.
Ifeltthefoursymbolsthatmadeupthegod’sname:
Thelastsymboldidn’tactuallyrepresentasound,Iknew.Itwasthehieroglyphforgod,
indicatingthatthelettersinfrontofit–SBK–stoodforadeity’sname.
Whenindoubt,Ithought,hitthegodbutton.
Ipushedthefourthsymbol,butnothinghappened.
Thestormwasfailing.Thecrocodilestartedtoturnagainstthecurrent,facingPercy.
Outofthecornerofmyeye,throughthehazeandmist,IsawPercydroptooneknee.
Myfingerspassedoverthethirdhieroglyph–thewickerbasket(Sadiealwayscalledit
the‘teacup’)thatstoodfortheKsound.Thehieroglyphfeltslightlywarmtothetouch–
orwasthatmyimagination?
Notimetothink.Ipressedit.Nothinghappened.
Thestormdied.Thecrocodilebellowedintriumph,readytofeed.
Imadeafistandslammedthebaskethieroglyphwithallmystrength.Thistimethe
claspmadeasatisfyingclickandsprangopen.Idroppedtothepavement,andseveral
hundredpoundsofgoldandgemsspilledontopofme.
Thecrocodilestaggered,roaringlikethegunsofabattleship.Whatwasleftofthe
hurricanescatteredinanexplosionofwind,andIshutmyeyes,readytobesmashedflat
bythebodyofafallingmonster.
Suddenly,thecul-de-sacwassilent.Nosirens.Nocrocodileroaring.Themoundofgold
jewellerydisappeared.Iwaslyingonmybackinmuckywater,staringupattheempty
bluesky.
Percy’sfaceappearedaboveme.Helookedlikehe’djustrunamarathonthrougha
typhoon,buthewasgrinning.
‘Nicework,’hesaid.‘Getthenecklace.’
‘Thenecklace?’Mybrainstillfeltsluggish.Wherehadallthatgoldgone?Isatupand
putmyhandonthepavement.Myfingersclosedroundthestrandofjewellery,now
normal-sized…well,atleastnormalforsomethingthatcouldfitroundtheneckofan
averagecrocodile.
‘The–themonster,’Istammered.‘Where–?’
Percypointed.Afewfeetaway,lookingverydisgruntled,wasababycrocodilenot
morethanthreefeetlong.
‘Youcan’tbeserious,’Isaid.
‘Maybesomebody’sabandonedpet?’Percyshrugged.‘Youhearaboutthoseonthe
newssometimes.’
Icouldn’tthinkofabetterexplanation,buthowhadababycrocgotholdofanecklace
thatturnedhimintoagiantkillingmachine?
Downthestreet,voicesstartedyelling,‘Uphere!There’sthesetwoguys!’
Itwasthemortalkids.Apparentlythey’ddecidedthedangerwasover.Nowtheywere
leadingthepolicestraighttowardsus.
‘Wehavetogo.’Percyscoopedupthebabycrocodile,clenchingonehandroundhis
littlesnout.Helookedatme.‘Youcoming?’
Together,weranbacktotheswamp.
Halfanhourlater,weweresittinginadinerofftheMontaukHighway.I’dsharedtherest
ofmyhealingpotionwithPercy,whoforsomereasoninsistedoncallingitnectar.Most
ofourwoundshadhealed.
We’dtiedthecrocodileinthewoodsonamakeshiftleash,justuntilwecouldfigureout
whattodowithit.We’dcleanedupasbestwecould,butwestilllookedlikewe’dtakena
showerinamalfunctioningcarwash.Percy’shairwasswepttoonesideandtangledwith
piecesofgrass.Hisorangeshirtwasrippeddownthefront.
I’msureIdidn’tlookmuchbetter.Ihadwaterinmyshoes,andIwasstillpicking
falconfeathersoutofmyshirtsleeves(hastytransformationscanbemessy).
Weweretooexhaustedtotalkaswewatchedthenewsonthetelevisionabovethe
counter.Policeandfirefightershadrespondedtoafreaksewereventinalocal
neighbourhood.Apparentlypressurehadbuiltupinthedrainagepipes,causingamassive
explosionthatunleashedafloodanderodedthesoilsobadlyseveralhousesonthecul-de-
sachadcollapsed.Itwasamiraclethatnoresidentshadbeeninjured.Localkidswere
tellingsomewildstoriesabouttheLongIslandSwampMonster,claimingithadcausedall
thedamageduringafightwithtwoteenageboys,butofcoursetheofficialsdidn’tbelieve
this.Thereporteradmitted,however,thatthedamagedhouseslookedlike‘something
verylargehadsatonthem’.
‘Afreakseweraccident,’Percysaid.‘That’safirst.’
‘Foryou,maybe,’Igrumbled.‘IseemtocausethemeverywhereIgo.’
‘Cheerup,’hesaid.‘Lunchisonme.’
Hedugintothepocketsofhisjeansandpulledoutaballpointpen.Nothingelse.
‘Oh…’Hissmilefaded.‘Uh,actually…canyouconjureupmoney?’
So,naturally,lunchwasonme.Icouldpullmoneyoutofthinair,sinceIkeptsome
storedintheDuatalongwithmyotheremergencysupplies;soinnotimewehad
cheeseburgersandfriesinfrontofus,andlifewaslookingup.
‘Cheeseburgers,’Percysaid.‘Foodofthegods.’
‘Agreed,’Isaid,butwhenIglancedoverathimIwonderedifhewasthinkingthesame
thingIwas:thatwewerereferringtodifferentgods.
Percyinhaledhisburger.Seriously,thisguycouldeat.‘So,thenecklace,’hesaid
betweenbites.‘What’sthestory?’
Ihesitated.IstillhadnocluewherePercycamefromorwhathewas,andIwasn’tsure
Iwantedtoask.Nowthatwe’dfoughttogether,Icouldn’thelpbuttrusthim.Still,I
sensedweweretreadingondangerousground.Everythingwesaidcouldhaveserious
implications–notjustforthetwoofusbutmaybeforeveryoneweknew.
IfeltsortoflikeIhadtwowintersago,whenmyuncleAmosexplainedthetruthabout
theKanefamilyheritage–theHouseofLife,theEgyptiangods,theDuat,everything.In
asingleday,myworldexpandedtenfoldandleftmereeling.
NowIwasstandingattheedgeofanothermomentlikethat.Butifmyworldexpanded
tenfoldagainIwasafraidmybrainmightexplode.
‘Thenecklaceisenchanted,’Isaidatlast.‘Anyreptilethatwearsitturnsintothenext
petsuchos,theSonofSobek.Somehowthatlittlecrocodilegotitroundhisneck.’
‘Meaningsomeoneputitroundhisneck,’Percysaid.
Ididn’twanttothinkaboutthat,butInoddedreluctantly.
‘So,who?’heasked.
‘Hardtonarrowitdown,’Isaid.‘I’vegotalotofenemies.’
Percysnorted.‘Icanrelatetothat.Anyideawhy,then?’
Itookanotherbiteofmycheeseburger.Itwasgood,butIhadtroubleconcentratingon
it.
‘Someonewantedtocausetrouble,’Ispeculated.‘Ithinkmaybe…’IstudiedPercy,
tryingtojudgehowmuchIshouldsay.‘Maybetheywantedtocausetroublethatwould
getourattention.Bothofourattention.’
Percyfrowned.HedrewsomethinginhisketchupwithaFrenchfry–notahieroglyph.
Somekindofnon-Englishletter.Greek,Iguessed.
‘ThemonsterhadaGreekname,’hesaid.‘Itwaseatingpegasiinmy…’Hehesitated.
‘Inyourhometurf,’Ifinished.‘Somekindofcamp,judgingfromyourshirt.’
Heshiftedonhisbarstool.Istillcouldn’tbelievehewastalkingaboutpegasiasifthey
werereal,butIrememberedonetimeatBrooklynHouse,maybeayearback,whenIwas
certainIsawawingedhorseflyingovertheManhattanskyline.Atthetime,Sadiehad
toldmeIwashallucinating.Now,Iwasn’tsosure.
FinallyPercyfacedme.‘Look,Carter.You’renotnearlyasannoyingasIthought.And
wemadeagoodteamtoday,but–’
‘Youdon’twanttoshareyoursecrets,’Isaid.‘Don’tworry.I’mnotgoingtoaskabout
yourcamp.Orthepowersyouhave.Oranyofthat.’
Heraisedaneyebrow.‘You’renotcurious?’
‘I’mtotallycurious.Butuntilwefigureoutwhat’sgoingonIthinkit’sbestwekeep
somedistance.Ifsomeone–something–unleashedthatmonsterhere,knowingitwould
drawbothofourattention–’
‘Thenmaybethatsomeonewantedustomeet,’hefinished.‘Hopingbadthingswould
happen.’
Inodded.IthoughtabouttheuneasyfeelingI’dhadinmygutearlier–thevoiceinmy
headwarningmenottotellPercyanything.I’dcometorespecttheguy,butIstillsensed
thatweweren’tmeanttobefriends.Weweren’tmeanttobeanywhereclosetoeachother.
Alongtimeago,whenIwasjustalittlekid,I’dwatchedmymomdoascience
experimentwithsomeofhercollegestudents.
Potassiumandwater,she’dtoldthem.Separate,completelyharmless.Buttogether–
Shedroppedthepotassiumintoabeakerofwater,andka-blam!Thestudentsjumped
backasaminiatureexplosionrattledallthevialsinthelab.
Percywaswater.Iwaspotassium.
‘Butwe’vemetnow,’Percysaid.‘YouknowI’mouthereonLongIsland.Iknowyou
liveinBrooklyn.Ifwewentsearchingforeachother–’
‘Iwouldn’trecommendit,’Isaid.‘Notuntilweknowmore.Ineedtolookintosome
thingson,uh,myside–trytofigureoutwhowasbehindthiscrocodileincident.’
‘Allright,’Percyagreed.‘I’lldothesameonmyside.’
Hepointedatthepetsuchosnecklace,whichwasglintingjustinsidemybackpack.
‘Whatdowetodoaboutthat?’
‘Icansenditsomewheresafe,’Ipromised.‘Itwon’tcausetroubleagain.Wedealwith
relicslikethisalot.’
‘We,’Percysaid.‘Meaning,there’salotof…youguys?’
Ididn’tanswer.
Percyputuphishands.‘Fine.Ididn’task.IhavesomefriendsbackatCa–uh,backon
mysidewhowouldlovetinkeringwithamagicnecklacelikethat,butI’mgoingtotrust
youhere.Takeit.’
Ididn’trealizeI’dbeenholdingmybreathuntilIexhaled.‘Thanks.Good.’
‘Andthebabycrocodile?’heasked.
Imanagedanervouslaugh.‘Youwantit?’
‘Gods,no.’
‘Icantakeit,giveitagoodhome.’IthoughtaboutourbigpoolatBrooklynHouse.I
wonderedhowourgiantmagiccrocodile,PhilipofMacedonia,wouldfeelabouthavinga
littlefriend.‘Yeah,it’llfitrightin.’
Percydidn’tseemtoknowwhattothinkofthat.‘Okay,well…’Heheldouthishand.
‘Goodworkingwithyou,Carter.’
Weshook.Nosparksflew.Nothunderboomed.ButIstillcouldn’tescapethefeeling
thatwe’dopenedadoor,meetinglikethis–adoorthatwemightnotbeabletoclose.
‘Youtoo,Percy.’
Hestoodtogo.‘Onemorething,’hesaid.‘Ifthissomebody,whoeverthrewustogether
…ifhe’sanenemytobothofus–whatifweneedeachothertofighthim?HowdoI
contactyou?’
Iconsideredthat.ThenImadeasnapdecision.‘CanIwritesomethingonyourhand?’
Hefrowned.‘Likeyourphonenumber?’
‘Uh…well,notexactly.’Itookoutmystylusandavialofmagicink.Percyheldout
hispalm.Idrewahieroglyphthere–theEyeofHorus.Assoonasthesymbolwas
complete,itflaredblue,thenvanished.
‘Justsaymyname,’Itoldhim,‘andI’llhearyou.I’llknowwhereyouare,andI’ll
comemeetyou.Butitwillonlyworkonce,somakeitcount.’
Percyconsideredhisemptypalm.‘I’mtrustingyouthatthisisn’tsomesortofmagical
trackingdevice.’
‘Yeah,’Isaid.‘AndI’mtrustingthatwhenyoucallmeyouwon’tbeluringmeinto
somekindofambush.’
Hestaredatme.Thosestormygreeneyesreallywerekindofscary.Thenhesmiled,
andhelookedlikearegularteenager,withoutacareintheworld.
‘Fairenough,’hesaid.‘SeeyouwhenIseeyou,C–’
‘Don’tsaymyname!’
‘Justteasing.’Hepointedatmeandwinked.‘Staystrange,myfriend.’
Thenhewasgone.
Anhourlater,Iwasbackaboardmyairborneboatwiththebabycrocodileandthemagic
necklaceasFreakflewmehometoBrooklynHouse.
Now,lookingbackonit,thewholethingwithPercyseemssounrealIcanhardly
believeitactuallyhappened.
IwonderhowPercysummonedthatwhirlpool,andwhattheheckcelestialbronzeis.
Mostofall,Ikeeprollingonewordaroundinmymind:demigod.
IhaveafeelingthatIcouldfindsomeanswersifIlookedhardenough,butI’mafraid
ofwhatImightdiscover.
Forthetimebeing,IthinkI’lltellSadieaboutthisandnooneelse.Atfirstshe’llthink
I’mkidding.And,ofcourse,she’llgivemegrief,butshealsoknowswhenI’mtellingthe
truth.Asannoyingassheis,Itrusther(thoughIwouldneversaythattoherface).
Maybeshe’llhavesomeideasaboutwhatweshoulddo.
WhoeverbroughtPercyandmetogether,whoeverorchestratedourcrossingpaths…it
smacksofChaos.Ican’thelpthinkingthiswasanexperimenttoseewhatkindofhavoc
wouldresult.Potassiumandwater.Matterandantimatter.
Fortunately,thingsturnedoutokay.Thepetsuchosnecklaceissafelylockedaway.Our
newbabycrocodileissplashingaroundhappilyinourpool.
Butnexttime…well,I’mafraidwemightnotbesolucky.
Somewherethere’sakidnamedPercywithasecrethieroglyphonhishand.AndIhave
afeelingthatsoonerorlaterI’llwakeupinthemiddleofthenightandhearoneword,
spokenurgentlyinmymind:
Carter.
PUFFINBOOKS
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FirstpublishedintheUSAbyDisney·HyperionBooksforChildren,animprintofDisney
BookGroup,2013
PublishedsimultaneouslyinGreatBritainasanelectroniceditionbyPuffinBooks2013
Textcopyright©RickRiordan,2013
HieroglyphartbyMichelleGengaro-Kokmen
Allrightsreserved
Themoralrightoftheauthorandillustratorhasbeenasserted
ISBN:978–0–141–34999–2
Hazel
DURINGTHETHIRDATTACK,Hazelalmostateaboulder.Shewaspeeringintothefog,wonderinghowit
couldbesodifficulttoflyacrossonestupidmountainrange,whentheship’salarmbellssounded.
“Hardtoport!”Nicoyelledfromtheforemastoftheflyingship.
Backatthehelm,Leoyankedthewheel.TheArgoIIveeredleft,itsaerialoarsslashingthroughtheclouds
likerowsofknives.
Hazelmadethemistakeoflookingovertherail.Adark,sphericalshapehurtledtowardher.Shethought:Why
isthemooncomingatus?Thensheyelpedandhitthedeck.Thehugerockpassedsocloseoverhead,it
blewherhairoutofherface.
CRACK!
Theforemastcollapsed—sail,spars,andNicoallcrashingtothedeck.Theboulder,roughlythesizeofa
pickuptruck,tumbledoffintothefoglikeithadimportantbusinesselsewhere.
“Nico!”HazelscrambledovertohimasLeobroughttheshiplevel.
“I’mfine,”Nicomuttered,kickingfoldsofcanvasoffhislegs.
Shehelpedhimup,andtheystumbledtothebow.Hazelpeekedovermorecarefullythistime.Theclouds
partedjustlongenoughtorevealthetopofthemountainbelowthem:aspearheadofblackrockjuttingfrom
mossygreenslopes.Standingatthesummitwasamountaingod—oneofthenuminamontanum,Jasonhad
calledthem.Orourae,inGreek.Whateveryoucalledthem,theywerenasty.
Liketheotherstheyhadfaced,thisoneworeasimplewhitetunicoverskinasroughanddarkasbasalt.He
wasabouttwentyfeettallandextremelymuscular,withaflowingwhitebeard,scragglyhair,andawildlookin
hiseyes,likeacrazyhermit.HebellowedsomethingHazeldidn’tunderstand,butitobviouslywasn’t
welcoming.Withhisbarehands,hepriedanotherchunkofrockfromhismountainandbeganshapingitinto
aball.
Thescenedisappearedinthefog,butwhenthemountaingodbellowedagain,othernuminaansweredinthe
distance,theirvoicesechoingthroughthevalleys.
“Stupidrockgods!”Leoyelledfromthehelm.“That’sthethirdtimeI’vehadtoreplacethatmast!Youthink
theygrowontrees?”
Nicofrowned.“Mastsarefromtrees.”
“That’snotthepoint!”Leosnatcheduponeofhiscontrols,ajury-riggedNintendoWiistick,andspunitina
circle.Afewfeetaway,atrapdooropenedinthedeck.ACelestialbronzecannonrose.Hazeljusthadtimeto
coverheearsbeforeitdischargedintothesky,sprayingadozenmetalspheresthattrailedgreenfire.The
spheresgrewspikesinmidair,likehelicopterblades,andspunawayintothefog.
Amomentlater,aseriesofexplosionscrackledacrossthemountains,followedbytheoutragedroarof
mountaingods.
“Ha!”Leoyelled.
Unfortunately,Hazelguessed,judgingfromtheirlasttwoencounters,Leo’snewestweaponhadonly
annoyedthenumina.
Anotherboulderwhistledthroughtheairofftotheirstarboardside.
Nicoyelled,“Getusoutofhere!”
Leomutteredsomeunflatteringcommentsaboutnumina,butheturnedthewheel.Theengineshummed.
Magicalrigginglasheditselftight,andtheshiptackedtoport.TheArgoIIpickedupspeed,retreating
northwest,asthey’dbeendoingforthepasttwodays.
Hazeldidn’trelaxuntiltheywereoutofthemountains.Thefogcleared.Belowthem,morningsunlight
illuminatedtheItaliancountryside—rollinggreenhillsandgoldenfieldsnottoodifferentfromthosein
NorthernCalifornia.HazelcouldalmostimagineshewassailinghometoCampJupiter.
Thethoughtweighedonherchest.CampJupiterhadonlybeenherhomeforninemonths,sinceNicohad
broughtherbackfromtheUnderworld.ButshemisseditmorethanherbirthplaceofNewOrleans,
anddefinitelymorethanAlaska,whereshe’ddiedbackin1942.
ShemissedherbunkintheFifthCohortbarracks.Shemisseddinnersinthemesshall,withwindspirits
whiskingplattersthroughtheairandlegionnairesjokingaboutthewargames.Shewantedtowanderthe
streetsofNewRome,holdinghandswithFrankZhang.Shewantedtoexperiencejustbeingaregulargirlfor
once,withanactualsweet,caringboyfriend.
Mostofall,shewantedtofeelsafe.Shewastiredofbeingscaredandworriedallthetime.
ShestoodonthequarterdeckasNicopickedmastsplintersoutofhisarmsandLeopunchedbuttonsonthe
ship’sconsole.
“Well,thatwassucktastic,”Leosaid.“ShouldIwaketheothers?”
Hazelwastemptedtosayyes,buttheothercrewmembershadtakenthenightshiftandhadearnedtheir
rest.Theywereexhaustedfromdefendingtheship.Everyfewhours,itseemed,someRomanmonsterhad
decidedtheArgoIIlookedlikeatastytreat.
Afewweeksago,Hazelwouldn’thavebelievedthatanyonecouldsleepthroughanuminaattack,butnow
sheimaginedherfriendswerestillsnoringawaybelowdecks.Whenevershegotachancetocrash,sheslept
likeacomapatient.
“Theyneedrest,”shesaid.“We’llhavetofigureoutanotherwayonourown.”
“Huh.”Leoscowledathismonitor.Inhistatteredworkshirtandgrease-splatteredjeans,helookedlikehe’d
justlostawrestlingmatchwithalocomotive.
EversincetheirfriendsPercyandAnnabethhadfallenintoTartarus,Leohadbeenworkingalmostnonstop.
He’dbeenactingangrierandevenmoredriventhanusual.
Hazelworriedabouthim.Butpartofherwasrelievedbythechange.WheneverLeosmiledandjoked,he
lookedtoomuchlikeSammy,isgreat-grandfather…Hazel’sfirstboyfriendbackin1942.
Ugh,whydidherlifehavetobesocomplicated?
“Anotherway,”Leomuttered.“Doyouseeone?”
OnhismonitorglowedamapofItaly.TheApennineMountainsrandownthemiddleoftheboot-shaped
country.AgreendotfortheArgoIIblinkedonthewesternsideoftherange,afewhundredmilesnorthof
Rome.Theirpathshouldhavebeensimple.TheyneededtogettoaplacecalledEpirusinGreeceandfind
anoldtemplecalledtheHouseofHades(orPluto,astheRomanscalledhim;orasHazellikedtothinkof
him:theWorld’sWorstAbsentFather).
ToreachEpirus,alltheyhadtodowasgostraighteast—overtheApenninesandacrosstheAdriaticSea.But
ithadn’tworkedoutthatway.EachtimetheytriedtocrossthespineofItaly,themountaingodsattacked.
Forthepasttwodaysthey’dskirtednorth,hopingtofindasafepass,withnoluck.Thenumina
montanumweresonsofGaea,Hazel’sleastfavoritegoddess.Thatmadethemverydeterminedenemies.
TheArgoIIcouldn’tflyhighenoughtoavoidtheirattacks;andevenwithallitsdefenses,theshipcouldn’t
makeitacrosstherangewithoutbeingsmashedtopieces.
“It’sourfault,”Hazelsaid.“Nicoandmine.”Thenuminacansenseus.”
Sheglancedatherhalfbrother.Sincethey’drescuedhimfromthegiants,he’dstartedtoregainhisstrength,
buthewasstillpainfullythin.Hisblackshirtandjeanshungoffhisskeletalframe.Long,darkhairframedhis
sunkeneyes.Hisolivecomplexionhadturnedasicklygreenish-white,likethecoloroftreesap.
Inhumanyears,hewasbarelyfourteen,justayearolderthanHazel;butthatdidn’ttellthewholestory.Like
Hazel,NicodiAngelowasademigodfromanotherera.Heradiatedakindofoldenergy—amelancholythat
camefromknowinghedidn’tbelonginthemodernworld.
Hazelhadn’tknownhimverylong,butsheunderstood,evensharedhissadness.ThechildrenofHades
(Pluto—whichever)rarelyhadhappylives.AndjudgingfromwhatNicohadtoldherthenightbefore,their
biggestchallengewasyettocomewhentheyreachedtheHouseofHades—achallengehe’dimploredher
tokeepsecretfromtheothers.
NicogrippedthehiltofhisStygianironsword.“Earthspiritsdon’tlikechildrenoftheUnderworld.That’strue.
Wegetundertheirskin—literally.ButIthinkthenuminacouldsensethisshipanyway.We’recarryingthe
AthenaParthenos.Thatthingislikeamagicalbeacon.”
Hazelshivered,thinkingofthemassivestatuethattookupmostyofthehold.They’dsacrificedsomuch,
savingitfromthecavernunderRome;buttheyhadnoideawhattodowithit.Sofartheonlythingitseemed
tobegoodforwasalertingmoremonsterstotheirpresence.
LeotracedhisfingerdownthemapofItaly.“Socrossingthemountainsisout.Thingis,theygoalongwayin
eitherdirection.”
“Wecouldgobysea,”Hazelsuggested.“SailaroundthesoutherntipofItaly.”
“That’salongway,”Nicosaid.“Plus,wedon’thave…”
Hisvoicecracked.“Youknow…ourseaexpert,Percy.”
Thenamehungintheairlikeanimpendingstorm.
PercyJackson,sonofPoseidon…probablythedemigodHazeladmiredthemost.He’dsavedherlifeso
manytimesontheirquesttoAlaska;butwhenhehadneededHazel’shelpinRome,she’dfailedhim.She’d
watched,powerless,asheandAnnabethhadplungedintothatpit….
Hazeltookadeepbreath.PercyandAnnabethwerestillalive.Sheknewthatinherheart.Shecouldstillhelp
themifshecouldgettotheHouseofHades,ifshecouldsurvivethechallengeNicohadwarnedher
about….
“Whataboutcontinuingnorth?”sheasked.“Therehastobeabreakinthemountains,orsomething.”
LeofiddledwiththebronzeArchimedesspherethathe’dinstalledontheconsole—hisnewestandmost
dangeroustoy.EverytimeHazellookedatthething,hermouthwentdry.SheworriedthatLeowouldturnthe
wrongcombinationonthesphereandaccidentallyejectthemallfromthedeck,orblowuptheship,orturn
theArgoIIintoagianttoaster.
Fortunately,theygotlucky.Thespheregrewacameralensandprojecteda3DimageoftheApennine
Mountainsabovetheconsole.
“Idunno.”Leoexaminedtheholograph.“Idon’tseeanygoodpassestothenorth.ButIliketheideabetter
thanbacktrackingsouth.I’mdonewithRome.”
Noonearguedwiththat.Romehadnotbeenagoodexperience.
“Whateverweso,”Nicosaid,“wehavetohurry.EverydaythatAnnabethandPercyareinTartarus…”
Hedidn’tneedtofinish.TheyhadtohopePercyandAnnabethcouldsurvivelongenoughtofindtheTartarus
sideoftheDoorsofDeath.Then,assumingtheArgoIIcouldreachtheHouseofHades,theymightbeableto
openthedoorsonthemortalside,savetheirfriends,andsealtheentrance,stoppingGaea’sforcesfrom
beingreincarnatedinthemortalworld,overandover.
Yes…nothingcouldgowrongwiththatplan.
NicoscowledattheItaliancountrysidebelowthem.Maybeweshouldwaketheothers.Thedecisionaffects
usall.”
“No,”Hazelsaid.“Wecanfindasolution.”
Shewasn’tsurewhyshefeltstronglyaboutit,butsinceleavingRome,thecrewhadstartedtoloseits
cohesion.They’dbeenlearningtoworkasateam.Thenbam…theirtwomostimportantmembersfellinto
Tartarus.Percyhadbeentheirbackbone.He’dgiventhemconfidenceastheysailedacrosstheAtlanticand
intotheMediterranean.AsforAnnabeth—she’dbeenthedefactoleaderofthequest.She’drecoveredthe
AthenaParthenossingle-handedly.Shewasthesmartestoftheseven,theonewiththeanswers.
IfHazelwokeuptherestofthecreweverytimetheyhadaproblem,they’djuststartarguingagain,feeling
moreandmorehopeless.
ShehadtomakePercyandAnnabethproudofher.Shehadtotaketheinitiative.Shecouldn’tbelieveher
onlyroleinthisquestwouldbewhatNicohadwarnedherof—removingtheobstaclewaitingfortheminthe
HouseofHades.Shepushedthethoughtaside.
“Weneedsomecreativethinking,”shesaid.“Anotherwaytocrossthosemountains,orawaytohide
ourselvesfromthenumina“
Nicosighed.“IfIwasonmyown,Icouldshadow-travel.Butthatwon’tworkforanentireship.Andhonestly,
I’mnotsureIhavethestrengthtoeventransportmyselfanymore.”
“Icouldmayberigsomekindofcamouflage,”Leosaid,“likeasmokescrentohideusintheclouds.”Hedidn’t
soundveryenthusiastic.
Hazelstareddownattherollingfarmland,thinkingaboutwhatlaybeneathit—therealmofherfather,lordof
theUnderworld.She’donlymetPlutoonce,andshehadn’trealizedwhohewas.Shecertainlyhadnever
expectedhelpfromhim—notwhenshewasalivethefirsttime,notduringhertimeasaspiritinthe
Underworld,notsinceNicohadbroughtherbacktotheworldoftheliving.
Herdad’sservantThanatos,godofdeath,hadsuggestedthatPlutomightbedoingHazelafavorbyignoring
her.Afterall,shewasn’tsupposedtobealive.IfPlutotooknoticeofher,hemighthavetoreturnhertothe
landofthedead.
WhichmeantcallingonPlutowouldbeaverybadidea.
Andyet…
Please,Dad,shefoundherselfpraying.IhavetofindawaytoyourtempleinGreece—theHouseofHades.
Ifyou’redownthere,showmewhattodo.
Attheedgeofthehorizon,aflickerofmovementcaughthereye—somethingsmallandbeigeracingacross
thefieldsatincrediblespeed,leavingavaportraillikeaplane’s.
Hazelcouldn’tbelieveit.Shedidn’tdarehope,butithadtobe…“Arion.”
“What?”Nicoasked.
Leoletoutahappywhoopasthedustcloudgotcloser.
“It’sherhorse,man!Youmissedthatwholepart.Wehaven’tseenhimsinceKansas!”
Hazellaughed—thefirsttimeshe’dlaughedindays.Itfeltsogoodtoseeheroldfriend.
Aboutamiletothenorth,thesmallbeigedotcircledahillandstoppedatthesummit.Hewasdifficulttomake
out,butwhenthehorserearedandwhinnied,thesoundcarriedallthewaytotheArgoII.Hazelhadnodoubt
—itwasArion.
“Wehavetomeethim,”shesaid.“He’sheretohelp.”
“Yeah,okay.”Leoscratchedhishead.“But,uh,wetalkedaboutnotlandingtheshiponthegroundanymore,
remember?Youknow,withGaeawantingtodestroyus,andall.”
“Justgetmeclose,andI’llusetheropeladder.”Hazel’sheartwaspounding.“IthinkArionwantstotellme
something.”