The Battle of the Labyrinth

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CHAPTER SEVEN: TYSON LEADS A JAILBREAK

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The good news: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or

turns. The bad news; it was a dead end. After sprinting a hundred yards, we

ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked our path. Behind us,

the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the

corridor. Something—definitely not human—was on our tail.

“Tyson,” I said, “can you—”

“Yes!” He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard the whole tunnel

shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.

“Hurry!” Grover said. “Don’t bring the roof down, but hurry!”

The boulder finally gave way with a horrible grinding noise. Tyson

pushed it into a small room and we dashed through behind it.

“Close the entrance!” Annabeth said.

We all got on the other side of the boulder and pushed. Whatever was

chasing us wailed in frustration as we heaved the rock back into placed and

sealed the corridor.

“We trapped it,” I said.

“Or trapped ourselves,” Grover said.

I turned. We were in a twenty-foot-square cement room and the opposite

wall was covered with metal bars. We’d tunneled straight into a cell.

* * *

“What in Hades?” Annabeth tugged on the bars. They didn’t budge.

Through the bars we could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark

courtyard—at least three stories of metal doors and metal catwalks.

“A prison,” I said. “Maybe Tyson can break—”

“Shh,” said Grover. “Listen.”

Somewhere above us, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There

was another sound, too—a raspy voice muttering something that I couldn’t

make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.

“what’s that language?” I whispered.

Tyson’s eye widened. “Can’t be.”

“What?” I asked.

He grabbed two bars on our cell door and bent them wide enough for even

a Cyclops to slip through.

“Wait!” Grover called.

But Tyson wasn’t about to wait. We ran after him. The prison was dark,

only a few dim fluorescent lights flickering above.

“I know this place,” Annabeth told me. “This is Alcatraz.”

“You mean that island is near San Francisco?”

She nodded. “My school took a field trip here. It’s like a museum.”

It didn’t seem possible that we could’ve popped out of the Labyrinth on

the other side of the country, but Annabeth had been living in San Francisco

all year, keeping an eye on Mount Tamalpais just across the bay. She

probably knew what she was talking about.

“Freeze,” Grover warned.

But Tyson kept going. Grover grabbed his arm and pulled him back with

all his strength. “Stop, Tyson!” he whispered. “Can’t you see it?”

I looked where he was pointing, and my stomach did a somersault. On the

second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was a monster more horrible

than anything I’d ever seen before.

It was sort of like a centaur, with a woman’s body from the waist up. But

instead of a horse’s lower body, it had the body of a dragon—at least twenty

feet long, black and scaly with enormous claws and a barbed tail. Her legs

looked like they were tangled in vines, but then I realized they were

sprouting snakes, hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for

something to bite. The woman’s hair was also made of snakes, like

Medusa’s. weirdest of all, around her waist, where the woman part met the

dragon part, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the

heads of animals—a vicious wolf, a bear, a lion, as if she were wearing a

belt of ever-changing creatures. I got the feeling I was looking at something

half formed, a monster so old it was from the beginning of time, before

shapes had been fully defined.

“It’s her,” Tyson whimpered.

“Get down!” Grover said.

We crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn’t paying us any

attention. It seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second

floor. That’s where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said

something in her weird rumbling language.

“What’s she saying?” I muttered. “What’s that language?”

“The tongue of the old times.” Tyson shivered. “What Mother Earth

spoke to Titans and…her other children. Before the gods.”

“You understand it?” I asked. “Can you translate?”

Tyson closed his eyes and began to speak in a horrible, raspy woman’s

voice. “You will work for the master or suffer.”

Annabeth shuddered. “I hate it when he does that.”

Like all Cyclopes, Tyson had superhuman hearing and an uncanny ability

to mimic voices. It was almost like he entered a trance when he spoke in

other voices.

“I will not serve,” Tyson said in a deep, wounded voice.

He switched to the monster’s voice: “Then I shall enjoy your pain,

Briares.” Tyson faltered when he said that name. I’d never heard him break

character when he was mimicking somebody, but he let out a strangled gulp.

Then he continued in the monster’s voice. “If you thought your first

imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on

this until I return.”

The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her

legs like grass skirts. She spread wings that I hadn’t noticed before—huge

bad wings she kept folded against her dragon back. She leaped off the

catwalk and soared across the courtyard. We crouched lower in the shadows.

A hot sulfurous wind blasted my face as the monster flew over. Then she

disappeared around the corner.

“H-h-horrible,” Grover said. “I’ve never smelled any monster that

strong.”

“Cyclopes’ worst nightmare,” Tyson murmured. “Kampê.”

“Who?” I asked.

Tyson swallowed. “Every Cyclops knows about her. Stories about her

scare us when we’re babies. She was our jailer in the bad years.”

Annabeth nodded. “I remember now. When the Titans ruled, they

imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos’s earlier children—the Cyclopes and the

Hekatonkheires.”

“The Heka-what?” I asked.

“The Hundred-Handed Ones,” she said. “They called them that

because…well, they had a hundred hands. They were elder brothers of the

Cyclopes.”

“Very powerful,” Tyson said. “Wonderful! As tall as the sky. So strong

they could break mountains!”

“Cool,” I said. “Unless you’re a mountain.”

“Kampê was the jailer,” he said. “She worked for Kronos. She kept our

brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He

killed Kampê and freed Cyclopes and Hundred-Handed Ones to help fight

against the Titans in the big war.”

“And now Kampê is back,” I said.

“Bad,” Tyson summed up.

“So who’s in that cell?” I asked. “You said a name—”

“Briares!” Tyson perked up. “He is a Hundred-Handed One. They are as

tall as the sky and—”

“Yeah,” I said. “They break mountains.”

I looked up at the cells above us, wondering how something as tall as the

sky could fit in a tiny cell, and why he was crying.

“I guess we should check it out,” Annabeth said, “before Kampê comes

back.”

* * *

As we approached the cell, the weeping got louder. When I first saw the

creature inside, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. He was human-size and

his skin was very pale, the color of milk. He wore a loincloth like a big

diaper. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails,

eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was the weird part. He

made Janus look downright normal. His chest sprouted more arms than I

could count, in rows, all around his body. The arms looked like normal arms,

but there were so many of them, all tangled together, that his chest looked

kind of like a forkful of spaghetti somebody had twirled together. Several of

his hands were covering his face as he sobbed.

“Either the sky isn’t as tall as it used to be,” I muttered, “or he’s short.”

Tyson didn’t pay any attention. He fell to his knees.

“Briares!” he called.

The sobbing stopped.

“Great Hundred-Handed One!” Tyson said. “Help us!”

Briars looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad

teeth. He had deep brown eyes—I mean completely brown with no whites or

black pupils, like eyes formed out of clay.

“Run while you can, Cyclops,” Briares said miserably. “I cannot even

help myself.”

“You are a Hundred-Handed One!” Tyson insisted. “You can do

anything!”

Briars wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting

with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson

always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed

to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, then

disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor

for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few

others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.

“I cannot,” Briares moaned. “Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and

throw us back into Tartarus.”

“Put on your brave face!” Tyson said.

Immediately Briares’s face morphed into something else. Same brown

eyes, but otherwise totally different features. He had an upturned nose,

arched eyebrows, and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then

his face turned back to what it had been before.

“No good,” he said. “My scared face keeps coming back.”

“How did you do that?” I asked.

Annabeth elbowed me. “Don’t be rude. The Hundred-Handed Ones all

have fifty different faces.”

“Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture,” I said.

Tyson was still entranced. “It will be okay, Briares! We will help you!

Can I have your autograph?”

Briares sniffled. “Do you have one hundred pens?”

“Guys,” Grover interrupted. “We have to get out of here. Kampê will be

back. She’ll sense us sooner or later.”

“Break the bars,” Annabeth said.

“Yes!” Tyson said, smiling proudly. “Briares can do it. He is very strong.

Stronger than Cyclopes, even! Watch!”

Briares whimpered. A dozen of his hands started playing patty-cake, but

none of them made any attempt to break the bars.

“If he’s so strong,” I said, “why is he stuck in jail?”

Annabeth ribbed me again. “He’s terrified,” she whispered. “Kampê had

imprisoned him in Tartarus for thousands of years. How would you feel?”

The Hundred-Handed One covered his face again.

“Briares?” Tyson asked. “What…what is wrong? Show us your great

strength!”

“Tyson,” Annabeth said, “I think you’d better break the bars.”

Tyson’s smile melted slowly.

“I will break the bars,” he repeated. He grabbed the cell door and ripped it

off its hinges like it was made of wet clay.

“Come on, Briares,” Annabeth said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

She held out her hand. For a second, Briares’s face morphed to a hopeful

expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them

away.

“I cannot,” he said. “She will punish me.”

“It’s all right,” Annabeth promised. “You fought the Titans before, and

you won, remember?”

“I remember the war.” Briares’s face morphed again—furrowed brow and

a pouting mouth. His brooding face, I guess. “Lightning shook the world.

We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they

are getting strong again. Kampê said so.”

“Don’t listen to her,” I said. “Come on!”

He didn’t move. I knew Grover was right. We didn’t have much time

before Kampê returned. But I couldn’t just leave him here. Tyson would cry

for weeks.

“One game of rock, paper, scissors,” I blurted out. “If I win, you come

with us. If I lose, we’ll leave you in jail.”

Annabeth looked at me like I was crazy.

Briares’s face morphed to doubtful. “I always win rock, paper, scissors.”

“Then let’s do it!” I pounded my fist in my palm three times.

Briares did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an

army marching three steps forward. He came up with a whole avalanche of

rocks, a classroom set of scissors, and enough paper to make a fleet of

airplanes.

“I told you,” he said sadly. “I always—” His face morphed to confusion.

“What is that you made?”

“A gun,” I told him, showing him my finger gun. It was a trick Paul

Blofis had pulled on me, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. “A gun beats

anything.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t say anything about fair. Kampê’s not going to be fair if we hang

around. She’s going to blame you for ripping off the bars. Now come on!”

Briares sniffled. “Demigods are cheaters.” But he slowly rose to his feet

and followed us out of the cell.

I started to feel hopeful. All we had to do was get downstairs and find the

Labyrinth entrance. But then Tyson froze.

On the ground floor right below, Kampê was snarling at us.

* * *

“The other way,” I said.

We bolted down the catwalk. This time Briares was happy to follow us. In

fact he sprinted out front, a hundred arms waving in panic.

Behind us, I heard the sound of giant wings as Kampê took to the air. She

hissed and growled in her ancient language, but I didn’t need a translation to

know she was planning to kill us.

We scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard’s

station—out into another block of prison cells.

“Left,” Annabeth said. “I remember this from the tour.”

We burst outside and found ourselves in the prison yard, ringed by

security towers and barbed wire. After being inside for so long, the daylight

almost blinded me. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind

whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and

beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled.

The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where

Atlas was imprisoned, and where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was

rising anew. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn’t see the supernatural

storm brewing, but they didn’t give any hint that anything was wrong.

“It’s even worse,” Annabeth said, gazing to the north. “The storms have

been bad all year, but that—”

“Keep moving,” Briares wailed. “She is behind us!”

We ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cellblock as possible.

“Kampê’s too big to get through the doors,” I said hopefully.

Then the wall exploded.

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her

wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long

bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of

vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

“Poison!” Grover yelped. “Don’t let those things touch you or…”

“Or we’ll die?” I guessed.

“Well…after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes.”

“Let’s avoid the swords,” I decided.

“Briares, fight!” Tyson urged. “Grow to full size!”

Instead, Briares looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He

appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.

Kampê thundered toward us on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes

slithering around her body.

For a second I thought about drawing Riptide and facing her, but my heart

crawled into my throat. Then Annabeth said what I was thinking: “Run.”

That was the end of the debate. There was no fighting this thing. We ran

through the jail yard and out the gates of the prison, the monster right behind

us. Mortals screamed and ran. Emergency sirens began to blare.

We hit the wharf just as a tour boat was unloading. The new group of

visitors froze as they saw us charging toward them, followed by a mob of

frightened tourists, followed by…I don’t know what they saw through the

Mist, but it could not have been good.

“The boat?” Grover asked.

“Too slow,” Tyson said. “Back into the maze. Only chance.”

“We need a diversion,” Annabeth said.

Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. “I will distract Kampê.

You run ahead.”

“I’ll help you,” I said.

“No,” Tyson said. “You go. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But

it won’t kill.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go, brother. I will meet you inside.”

I hated the idea. I’d almost lost Tyson once before, and I didn’t want to

ever risk that again. But there was no time to argue, and I had no better idea.

Annabeth, Grover, and I each took one of Briares’s hands and dragged him

toward the concession stands while Tyson bellowed, lowered his pole, and

charged Kampê like a jousting knight.

She’d been glaring at Briares, but Tyson got her attention as soon as he

nailed her in the chest with the pole, pushing her back into the wall. She

shrieked and slashed with her swords, slicing the pole to shreds. poison

dripped in pools all around her, sizzling into the cement.

Tyson jumped back as Kampê’s hair lashed and hissed, and the vipers

around her legs darted their tongues in every direction. A lion popped out of

the weird half-formed faces around her waist and roared.

As we sprinted for the cellblocks, the last thing I saw was Tyson picking

up a Dippin’ Dots stand and throwing it at Kampê. Ice cream and poison

exploded everywhere, all the little snakes in Kampê’s hair dotted with tuttifrutti.

We dashed back into the jail yard.

“Can’t make it,” Briares huffed.

“Tyson is risking his life to help you!” I yelled at him. “You will make it.”

As we reached the door of the cellblock, I heard an angry roar. I glanced

back and saw Tyson running toward us at full speed, Kampê right behind

him. She was plastered in ice cream and T-shirts. One of the bear heads on

her waist was now wearing a pair of crooked plastic Alcatraz sunglasses.

“Hurry!” Annabeth said, like I needed to be told that.

We finally found the cell where we’d come in, but the back wall was

completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.

“Look for the mark!” Annabeth said.

“There!” Grover touched a tiny scratch, and it became a Greek Δ. The

mark of Daedalus glowed blue, and the stone wall grinded open.

Too slowly. Tyson was coming through the cellblock, Kampê’s swords

lashing out behind him, slicing indiscriminately through cell bars and stone

walls.

I pushed Briares inside the maze, then Annabeth and Grover.

“You can do it!” I told Tyson. But immediately I knew he couldn’t

Kampê was gaining. She raised her swords. I need a distraction—something

big. I slapped my wristwatch and it spiraled into a bronze shield.

Desperately, I threw it at the monster’s face.

SMACK! The shield hit her in the face and she faltered just long enough

for Tyson to dive past me into the maze. I was right behind him.

Kampê charged, but she was too late. The stone door closed and its magic

sealed us in. I could feel the whole tunnel shake as Kampê pounded against

it, roaring furiously. We didn’t stick around to play knock, knock with her,

though. We raced into the darkness, and for the first time (and the last) I was

glad to be back in the Labyrinth.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT: WE VISIT THE DEMON DUDE RANCH

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We finally stopped in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one big pit,

ringed by a slippery stone walkway. Around us, on all four walls, water

tumbled from huge pipes. The water spilled down into the pit, and even

when I shined a light, I couldn’t see the bottom.

Briares slumped against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands

and washed his face. “This pit goes straight to Tartarus,” he murmured. “I

should jump in and save you trouble.”

“Don’t talk that way,” Annabeth told him. “You can come back to camp

with us. You can help us prepare. You know more about fighting Titans than

anybody.”

“I have nothing to offer,” Briares said. “I have lost everything.”

“What about your brothers?” Tyson asked. “The other two must stand tall

as mountains! We can take you to them.”

Briares’s expression morphed to something even sadder: his grieving face.

“They are no more. They faded.”

The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out

of his eye.

“What exactly do you mean, they faded?” I asked. “I thought monsters

were immortal, like the gods.”

“Percy,” Grover said weakly, “even immortality has limits.

Sometimes…sometimes monsters get forgotten and they lose their will to

stay immortal.”

Looking at Grover’s face, I wondered if he was thinking of Pan. I

remembered something Medusa had told us once: how her sisters, the other

two gorgons, had passed on and left her alone. Then last year Apollo said

something about the old god Helios disappearing and leaving him with the

duties of the sun god. I’d never thought about it too much, but now, looking

at Briares, I realized how terrible it would be to be so old—thousands and

thousands of years old—and totally alone.

“I must go,” Briares said.

“Kronos’s army will invade camp,” Tyson said. “We need help.”

Briares hung his head. “I cannot, Cyclops.”

“You are strong.”

“Not anymore.” Briares rose.

“Hey,” I grabbed one of his arms and pulled him aside, where the roar of

the water would hide our words. “Briares, we need you. In case you haven’t

noticed, Tyson believes in you. He risked his life for you.”

I told him about everything—Luke’s invasion plan, the Labyrinth

entrance at camp, Daedalus’s workshop, Kronos’s golden coffin.

Briares just shook his head. “I cannot, demigod. I do not have a finger gun

to win this game.” To prove his point, he made one hundred finger guns.

“Maybe that’s why monsters fade,” I said. “Maybe it’s not about what the

mortals believe. Maybe it’s because you give up on yourself.”

His pure brown eyes regarded me. His face morphed into an expression I

recognized—shame. Then he turned and trudged off down the corridor until

he was lost in the shadows.

Tyson sobbed.

“It’s okay,” Grover hesitantly patted his shoulder, which must’ve taken all

his courage.

Tyson sneezed. “It’s not okay, goat boy. He was my hero.”

I wanted to make him feel better, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

Finally Annabeth stood and shouldered her backpack. “Come on, guys.

This pit is making me nervous. Let’s find a better place to camp for the

night.”

* * *

We settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it

could’ve been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to

the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Annabeth decided this

was a good sign.

“We must be close to Daedalus’s workshop,” she said. “Get some rest,

everybody. We’ll keep going in the morning.”

“How do we know when it’s morning?” Grover asked.

“Just rest,” she insisted.

Grover didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his

pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no

time. Tyson took longer getting to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps

from his building kit for a while, but whatever he was making, he wasn’t

happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces.

“I’m sorry I lost the shield,” I told him. “You worked so hard to repair it.”

Tyson looked up. His eye was bloodshot from crying. “Do not worry,

brother. You saved me. You wouldn’t have had to if Briares had helped.”

“He was just scared,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

“He is not strong,” Tyson said. “He is not important anymore.”

He heaved a big sad sigh, then closed his eye. The metal pieces fell out of

his hand, still unassembled, and Tyson began to snore.

I tried to fall asleep myself, but I couldn’t. something about getting chased

by a large dragon lady with poison swords made it real hard to relax. I

picked up my bedroll and dragged it over to where Annabeth was sitting,

keeping watch.

I sat down next to her.

“You should sleep,” she said.

“Can’t. You doing all right?”

“Sure. First day leading the quest. Just great.”

“We’ll get there,” I said. “We’ll find the workshop before Luke does.”

She brushed her hair out of her face. She had a smudge of dirt on her chin,

and I imagined what she must’ve looked like when she was little, wandering

around the country with Thalia and Luke. Once she’d saved them from the

mansion of the evil Cyclops when she was only seven. Even when she

looked scared, like now, I knew she had a lot of guts.

“I just wish the quest was logical,” she complained. “I mean, we’re

traveling but we have no idea where we’ll end up. How can you walk from

New York to California in a day?”

“Space isn’t the same in the maze.”

“I know, I know. It’s just…” She looked at me hesitantly. “Percy, I was

kidding myself. All that planning and reading, I don’t have a clue where

we’re going.”

“You’re doing great. Besides, we never know what we’re doing. It always

works out. Remember Circe’s island?”

She snorted. “You made a cute guinea pig.”

“And Waterland, how you got us thrown off that ride?”

“I got us thrown off? That was totally your fault!”

“See? It’ll be fine.”

She smiled, which I was glad to see, but the smile faded quickly.

“Percy, what did Hera mean when she said you knew the way to get

through the maze?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Honestly.”

“You’d tell me if you did?”

“Sure. Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Maybe if you told me the last line of the prophecy, it would help.”

Annabeth shivered. “Not here. Not in the dark.”

“What about the choice Janus mentioned? Hera said—”

“Stop,” Annabeth snapped. Then she took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,

Percy. I’m just stressed. But I don’t…I’ve got to think about it.”

We sat in silence, listening to strange creaks and groans in the maze, the

echo of stones grinding together as tunnels changed, grew, and expanded.

The dark made me think about the visions I’d seen of Nico di Angelo, and

suddenly I realized something.

“Nico is down here somewhere,” I said. “That’s how he disappeared from

camp. He found the Labyrinth. Then he found a path that led down even

farther—to the Underworld. But now he’s back in the maze. He’s coming

after me.”

Annabeth was quiet for a long time. “Percy, I hope you’re wrong. But if

you’re right…” she stared at the flashlight beam, casting a dim circle on the

stone wall. I had a feeling she was thinking about her prophecy. I’d never

seen her look more tired.

“How about I take first watch?” I said. “I’ll wake you if anything

happens.”

Annabeth looked like she wanted to protest, but she just nodded, slumped

into her bedroll, and closed her eyes.

* * *

When it was my turn to sleep, I dreamed I was back in the old man’s

Labyrinth prison.

It looked more like a workshop now. Tables were littered with measuring

instruments. A forge burned red hot in the corner. The boy I’d seen in the

last dream was stoking the bellows, except he was taller now, almost my age.

A weird funnel device was attached to the forge’s chimney, trapping the

smoke and heat and channeling it through a pipe into the floor, next to a big

bronze manhole cover.

It was daytime. The sky above was blue, but the walls of the maze cast

deep shadows across the workshop. After being in tunnels so long, i found it

weird that part of the Labyrinth could be open to the sky. Somehow that

made the maze seem like even a crueler place.

The old man looked sickly. He was terribly thin, his hands raw and red

from working. White hair covered his eyes, and his tunic was smudged with

grease. He was bent over a table, working on some kind of long metal

patchwork—like a swath of chain mail. He picked up a delicate curl of

bronze and fitted it into place.

“Done,” he announced. “It’s done.”

He picked up his project. It was so beautiful, my heart leaped—metal

wings constructed from thousands of interlocking bronze feathers. There

were two sets. One still lay on the table. Daedalus stretched the frame, and

the wings expanded twenty feet. Part of me knew it could never fly. It was

too heavy, and there’d be no way to get off the ground. But the

craftsmanship was amazing. Metal feathers caught the light and flashed

thirty different shades of gold.

The boy left the bellows and ran over to see. He grinned, despite the fact

that he was grimy and sweaty. “Father, you’re a genius!”

The old man smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know, Icarus. Now hurry.

It will take at least an hour to attach them. Come.”

“You first,” Icarus said.

The old man protested, but Icarus insisted. “You made them, Father. You

should get the honor of wearing them first.”

The boy attached a leather harness to his father’s chest, like climbing gear,

with straps that ran from his shoulders to his wrists. Then he began fastening

on the wings, using a metal canister that looked like an enormous hot-glue

gun.

“The wax compound should hold for several hours,” Daedalus said

nervously as his son worked. “But we must let it set first. And we would do

well to avoid flying too high or too low. The sea would wet the wax seals—”

“And the sun’s heat would loosen them,” the boy finished. “Yes, Father.

We’ve been through this a million times!”

“One cannot be too careful.”

“I have complete faith in your inventions, Father! No one has ever been as

smart as you.”

The old man’s eyes shone. It was obvious he loved his son more than

anything in the world. “Now I will do your wings, and give mine a chance to

set properly. Come!”

It was slow going. The old man’s hands fumbled with the straps. He had a

hard time keeping the wings in position while he sealed them. His own metal

wings seemed to weigh him down, getting in his way while he tried to work.

“Too slow,” the old man muttered. “I am too slow.”

“Take your time, Father,” the boy said. “The guards aren’t due until—”

BOOM!

The workshop doors shuddered. Daedalus had barred them from the

inside with a wooden brace, but still they shook on their hinges.

“Hurry!” Icarus said.

BOOM! BOOM!

Something heavy was slamming into the doors. The brace held, but a

crack appeared in the left door.

Daedalus worked furiously. A drop of hot wax spilled onto Icarus’s

shoulder. The boy winced but did not cry out. When his left wing was sealed

into the straps, Daedalus began working on the right.

“We must have more time,” Daedalus murmured. “They are too early! We

need more time for the seal to hold.”

“It’ll be fine,” Icarus said, as his father finished the right wing. “Help me

with the manhole—”

CRASH! The doors splintered and the head of a bronze battering ram

emerged through the breach. Axes cleared the debris, and two armed guards

entered the room, followed by the king with the golden crown and the spearshaped

beard.

“Well, well,” the king said with a cruel smile. “Going somewhere?”

Daedalus and his son froze, their metal wings glimmering on their backs.

“We’re leaving, Minos,” the old man said.

King Minos chuckled. “I was curious to see how far you’d get on this

little project before I dashed your hopes. I must say I’m impressed.”

The king admired their wings. “You look like metal chickens,” he decided.

“Perhaps we should pluck you and make a soup.”

The guards laughed stupidly.

“Metal chickens,” one repeated. “Soup.”

“Shut up,” the king said. Then he turned again to Daedalus. “You let my

daughter escape, old man. You drove my wife to madness. You killed my

monster and made me the laughingstock of the Mediterranean. You will

never escape me!”

Icarus grabbed the wax gun and sprayed it at the king, who stepped back

in surprise. The guards rushed forward, but each got a stream of hot wax in

his face.

“The vent!” Icarus yelled to his father.

“Get them!” King Minos raged.

Together, the old man and his son pried open the manhole cover, and a

column of hot air blasted out of the ground. The king watched, incredulous,

as the inventor and son shot into the sky on their bronze wings, carried by

the updraft.

“Shoot them!” the king yelled, but his guards had brought no bows. One

threw his sword in desperation, but Daedalus and Icarus were already out of

reach. They wheeled above the maze and the king’s palace, then zoomed

across the city of Knossos and out past the rocky shores of Crete.

Icarus laughed. “Free, Father! You did it.”

The boy spread his wings to their full limit and soared away on the wind.

“Wait!” Daedalus called. “Be careful!”

But Icarus was already out over the open sea, heading north and

delighting in their good luck. He soared up and scared an eagle out of its

flight path, then plummeted toward the sea like he was born to fly, pulling

out of a nosedive at the last second. His sandals skimmed the waves.

“Stop that!” Daedalus called. But the wind carried his voice away. His son

was drunk on his own freedom.

The old man struggled to catch up, gliding clumsily after his son.

They were miles from Crete, over deep sea, when Icarus looked back and

saw his father’s worried expression.

Icarus smiled. “Don’t worry, Father! You’re a genius! I trust your

handiwork—”

The first metal feather shook loose from his wings and fluttered away.

Then another. Icarus wabbled in midair. Suddenly he was shedding bronze

feathers, which twirled away from him like a flock of frightened birds.

“Icarus!” his father cried. “Glide! Extend the wings. Stay as still as

possible!”

But Icarus flapped his arms, desperately trying to reassert control.

The left wing went first—ripping away from the straps.

“Father!” Icarus cried. And then he fell, the wings stripped away until he

was just a boy in a climbing harness and a white tunic, his arms extended in

a useless attempt to glide.

I woke with a start, feeling like I was falling. The corridor was dark. In

the constant moaning of the Labyrinth, I thought I could hear the anguished

cry of Daedalus calling his son’s name, as Icarus, his only joy, plummeted

toward the sea, three hundred feet below.

* * *

There was no morning in the maze, but once everyone woke up and had a

fabulous breakfast of granola bars and juice boxes, we kept traveling. I

didn’t mention my dream. Something about it had really freaked me out, and

I didn’t think the others needed to know that.

The old stone tunnels changed to dirt with cedar beams, like a gold mine

or something. Annabeth started getting agitated.

“This isn’t right,” she said. “It should still be stone.”

We came to a cave where stalactites hung low from the ceiling. In the

center of the dirt floor was a rectangular pit, like a grave.

Grover shivered. “It smells like the Underworld in here.”

Then I saw something glinting at the edge of the pit—a foil wrapper. I

shined my flashlight into the hole and saw a half-chewed cheeseburger

floating in brown carbonated muck.

“Nico,” I said. “He was summoning the dead again.”

Tyson whimpered. “Ghosts were here. I don’t like ghosts.”

“We’ve got to find him.” I don’t know why, but standing at the edge of

that pit gave me a sense of urgency. Nico was close, I could feel it. I

couldn’t let him wander around down here, alone except for the dead. I

started to run.

“Percy!” Annabeth called.

I ducked into a tunnel and saw light up ahead. By the time Annabeth,

Tyson, and Grover caught up with me, I was staring at daylight streaming

through a set of bars above my head. We were under a steel grate made out

of metal pipes. I could see trees and blue sky.

“Where are we?” I wondered.

Then a shadow fell across the grate and a cow stared down at me. It

looked like a normal cow except with was a weird color—bright red, like a

cherry. I didn’t know cows came in that color.

The cow mooed, put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away.

“It’s a cattle guard,” Grover said.

“A what?” I asked.

“They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can’t get out. They can’t

walk on them.”

“How do you know that?”

Grover huffed indignantly. “Believe me, if you had hooves, you’d know

about cattle guards. They’re annoying!”

I turned to Annabeth. “Didn’t Hera say something about a ranch? We

need to check it out. Nico might be there.”

She hesitated. “All right. But how do we get out?”

Tyson solved that problem by hitting the cattle guard with both hands. It

popped off and went flying out of sight. We heard a CLANG! and a startled

Moo! Tyson blushed.

“Sorry, cow!” he called.

Then he gave us a boost out of the tunnel.

We were on a ranch, all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted

with oak trees and cactuses and boulders. A barbed wire fence ran from the

gate in either direction. Cherry-colored cows roamed around, grazing on

clumps of grass.

“Red cattle,” Annabeth said. “The cattle of the sun.”

“What?” I asked.

“They’re sacred to Apollo.”

“Holy cows?”

“Exactly. But what are they doing—”

“Wait,” Grover said. “Listen.”

At first everything seemed quiet…but then I heard it: the distant baying of

dogs. The sound got louder. Then the underbrush rustled, and two dogs

broke through. Except it wasn’t two dogs. It was one dog with two heads. It

looked like a greyhound, long and snaky and sleek brown, but its neck V’d

into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling and generally not very

glad to see us.

“Bad Janus dog!” Tyson cried.

“Arf!” Grover told it, and raised a hand in greeting.

The two-headed dog bared its teeth. I guess it wasn’t impressed that

Grover could speak animal. Then its master lumbered out of the woods, and

I realized the dog was the least of our problems.

He was a huge guy with stark white hair, a straw cowboy hat, and a

braided white beard— kind of like Father Time, if Father Time went redneck

and got totally jacked. He was wearing jeans, a DON’T MESS WITH

TEXAS T-shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off so you could

see his muscles. On his right bicep was a crossed-swords tattoo. He held a

wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead, with six-inch spikes

bristling at the business end.

“Heel, Orthus,” he told the dog.

The dog growled at us once more, just to make his feelings clear, just to

make his feelings clear, then circled back to his master’s feet. The man

looked us up and down, keeping his club ready.

“What’ve we got here?” he asked. “Cattle rustlers?”

“Just travelers,” Annabeth said. “We’re on a quest.”

The man’s eye twitched. “Half-bloods, eh?”

I started to say, “How did you know—”

Annabeth put her hand on my arm. “I’m Annabeth, daughter of Athena.

This is Percy, son of Poseidon. Grover the satyr. Tyson the—”

“Cyclops,” the man finished. “Yes, I can see that.” He glowered at me.

“And I know half-bloods because I am one, sonny. I’m Eurytion, the

cowherd for this here ranch. Son of Ares. You came through the Labyrinth

like the other one, I reckon.”

“The other one?” I asked. “You mean Nico di Angelo?”

“We get a load of visitors from the Labyrinth,” Eurytion said darkly. “Not

many ever leave.”

“Wow,” I said. “I feel welcome.”

The cowherd glanced bend him like someone was watching. Then he

lowered his voice. “I’m only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in

the maze now. Before it’s too late.”

“We’re not leaving,” Annabeth insisted. “Not until we see this other

demigod. Please.”

Eurytion grunted. “Then you leave me no choice, missy. I’ve got to take

you to the boss.”

* * *

I didn’t’ feel like we were hostages or anything. Eurytion walked

alongside us with his club across his shoulder. Orthus the two-headed dog

growled a lot and sniffed at Grover’s legs and shot into the bushes once in a

while to chase animals, but Eurytion kept him more or less under control.

We walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. It must’ve been

close to a hundred degrees, which was a shock after San Francisco. Heat

shimmered off the ground. Insects buzzed in the trees. Before we’d gone

very far, i was sweating like crazy. Flies swarmed us. Every so often we’d

see a pen full of red cows or even stranger animals. Once we passed a corral

where the fence was coated in asbestos. Inside, a herd of fire-breathing

horses milled around. The hay in their feeding trough was on fire. The

ground smoked around their feet, but the horses seemed tame enough. One

big stallion looked at me and whinnied, columns of red flame billowing out

his nostrils. I wondered if it hurt his sinuses.

“What are they for?” I asked.

Eurytion scowled. “We raise animals for lots of clients. Apollo, Diomedes,

and…others.”

“Like who?”

“No more questions.”

Finally we came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above us was a big

ranch house—all white stone and wood and big windows.

“It looks like a Frank Lloyd Wright!” Annabeth said.

I guess she was talking about some architectural thing. To me it just

looked like the kind of place where a few demigods could get into serious

trouble. We hiked up the hill.

“Don’t break the rules,” Eurytion warned as we walked up the steps to the

front porch. “No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don’t make any

comments about the boss’s appearance.”

“Why?” I asked. “What does he look like?”

Before Eurytion could reply, a new voice said, “Welcome to the Triple G

Ranch.”

The man on the porch had a normal head, which was a relief. His face was

weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had a slick black hair and a

black pencil moustache like villains have in old movies. He smiled at us, but

the smile wasn’t friendly; more amused, like Oh boy, more people to torture!

I didn’t ponder that very long, though, because then I noticed his

body…or bodies. He had three of them. Now you’d think I would’ve gotten

used to weird anatomy after Janus and Briares, but this guy was three

complete people. His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he

had two more chests, one to either side, connected at the shoulders, with a

few inches between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on

the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits, if that makes any sense. The

chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very

beefy legs, and he wore the most oversized pair of Levis I’d ever seen. His

chests each wore a different color Western shirt—green, yellow, red, like a

stoplight. I wondered how he dressed the middle chest, since it had no arms.

The cowherd Eurytion nudged me. “Say Hello to Mr. Geryon.”

“Hi,” I said. “Nice chests—uh, ranch! Nice ranch you have.”

Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico di Angelo came out of

the glass doors onto the porch. “Geryon, I won’t wait for—”

He froze when he saw us. Then he drew his sword. The blade was just

like I’d seen in my dream; short, sharp, and dark as midnight.

Geryon snarled when he saw it. “Put that away, Mr. di Angelo. I ain’t

gonna have my guests killin’ each other.”

“But that’s—”

“Percy Jackson,” Geryon supplied. “Annabeth Chase. And a couple of

their monster friends. Yes, I know.”

“Monster friends?” Grover said indignantly.

“That man is wearing three shirts,” Tyson said, like he was just realizing

this.

“They let my sister die!” Nico’s voice trembled with rage. “They’re here

to kill me!”

“Nico, we’re not here to kill you.” I raised my hands. “What happened to

Bianca was—”

“Don’t speak her name! You’re not worthy to even talk about her!”

“Wait a minute,” Annabeth pointed at Geryon. “How do you know our

names?”

The three-bodied man winked. “I make it my business to keep informed,

darlin’. Everybody pops into the ranch from time to time. Everyone needs

something from ole Geryon. Now, Mr. di Angelo, put that ugly sword away

before I have Eurytion take it form you.”

Eurytion sighed, but he hefted his spiked club. At his feet, Orthus growled.

Nico hesitated. He looked thinner and paler than he had in the Irismessages.

I wondered if he’d eaten in the last week. His black clothes were

dusty from traveling in the Labyrinth, and his dark eyes were full of hate. He

was too young to look so angry. I still remembered him as the cheerful little

kid who played with Mythomagic cards.

Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword. “If you come near me, Percy, I’ll

summon help. You don’t want to meet my helpers, I promise.”

“I believe you,” I said.

Geryon patted Nico’s shoulder. “There, we’ve all made nice. Now come

along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch.”

* * *

Geryon had a trolley thing—like one of those kiddie trains that take you

around zoos. It was painted black and white in a cowhide pattern. The

driver’s car had a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded

like a cowbell. I figured maybe this was how he tortured people. He

embarrassed them to death riding around in the moo-mobile.

Nico sat in the very back, probably so he could keep an eye on us.

Eurytion crawled in next to him with his spiked club and pulled his cowboy

hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap. Orthus jumped in the front

seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in two-part harmony.

Annabeth, Tyson, Grover, and I took the middle two cars.

“We have a huge operation!” Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched

forward. “Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too.”

We came over a hill, and Annabeth gasped. “Hippalektryons? I thought

they were extinct!”

At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of the

weirdest animals I’d ever seen. Each had the front half of a horse and the

back half of a rooster. Their rear feet were huge yellow claws. They had

feathery tails and red wings. As I watched, two of them got in a fight over a

pile of seed. They reared up on their wings at each other until the smaller

one galloped away, its rear bird legs putting a little hop in its step.

“Rooster ponies,” Tyson said in amazement. “Do they lay eggs?”

“Once a year!” Geryon grinned in the rearview mirror. “Very much in

demand for omelettes!”

“That’s horrible!” Annabeth said. “They must be an endangered species!”

Geryon waved his hand. “Gold is gold, darling. And you haven’t tasted

the omelettes.”

“That’s not right,” Grover murmured, but Geryon just kept narrating the

tour.

“Now, over here,” he said, “we have our fire-breathing horses, which you

may have seen on your way in. They’re bred for war, naturally.”

“What war?” I asked.

Geryon grinned slyly. “Oh, whichever one comes along. And over yonder,

of course, are our prize red cows.”

Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-colored cattle were grazing the side

of the hill.

“So many,” Grover said.

“Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see them,” Geryon explained, “so he

subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because there’s such a

demand.”

“For what?” I asked.

Geryon raised an eyebrow. “Meat, of course! Armies have to eat.”

“You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?” Grover

said. “That’s the against ancient laws!”

“Oh, don’t get so worked up, satyr. They’re just animals.”

“Just animals!”

“Yes, and if Apollo cared, I’m sure he would tell us.”

“If he knew,” I muttered.

Nico sat forward. “I don’t care about any of this, Geryon. We had

business to discuss, and this wasn’t it!”

“All in good time, Mr. di Angelo. Look over here; some of my exotic

game.”

The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling

with giant scorpions.

“Triple G Ranch,” I said, suddenly remembering. “Your mark was on the

crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you.”

“Quintus…” Geryon mused. “Short gray hair, muscular, swordsman?”

“Yeah.”

“Never heard of him,” Geryon said. “Now, over here are my prize stables!

You must see them.”

I didn’t need to see them, because as soon as we got within three hundred

yards I started to smell them. Near the banks of a green river was a horse

corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About a

hundred horses were milling around in the muck—and when I say muck, I

mean horse poop. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever seen, like a poop

blizzard had come through and dumped four feet of the stuff overnight. The

horses were really gross from wading through it, and the stables were just as

bad. It reeked like you would not believe—worse than the garbage boats on

the East River.

Even Nico gagged. “What is that?”

“My stables!” Geryon said. “Well, actually they belong to Aegas, but we

watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren’t they lovely?”

“They’re disgusting!” Annabeth said.

“Lots of poop,” Tyson observed.

“How can you keep animals like that?” Grover cried.

“Y’all getting’ on my nerves,” Geryon said. “These are flesh-eating

horses, see? They like these conditions.”

“Plus, you’re too cheap to have them cleaned,” Eurytion mumbled from

under his hat.

“Quiet!” Geryon snapped. “All right, perhaps the stables are a bit

challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind

blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients still pay me well.”

“What clients?” I demanded.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eating

horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your

enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time.”

“You’re a monster,” Annabeth decided.

Geryon stopped the moo-mobile and turned to look at her. “What gave it

away? Was it the three bodies?”

“You have to let these animals go,” Grover said. “It’s not right!”

“And the clients you keep talking about,” Annabeth said. “You work for

Kronos, don’t you? You’re supplying his army with horses, food, whatever

they need.”

Geryon shrugged, which was very weird since he had three sets of

shoulders. It looked like he was doing the wave all by himself. “I work for

anyone with gold, young lady. I’m a businessman. And I sell them anything

I have to offer.”

He climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled toward the stables as if

enjoying the fresh air. It would’ve been a nice view, with the river and the

trees and hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck.

Nico got out of the back car and stormed over to Geryon. The cowherd

Eurytion wasn’t as sleepy as he looked. He hefted his club and walked after

Nico.

“I came here for business, Geryon,” Nico said. “And you haven’t

answered me.”

“Mmm.” Geryon examined a cactus. His left arm reached over and

scratched his middle-chest. “Yes, you’ll get a deal, all right.”

“My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul

we need.”

“Wait a second,” I said. “I thought I was the soul you wanted.”

Nico looked at me like I was crazy. “You? Why would I want you?

Bianca’s soul is worth a thousand of yours! Now, can you help me, Geryon,

or not?”

“Oh, I imagine I could,” the rancher said. “Your ghost friend, by the way,

where is he?”

Nico looked uneasy. “He can’t form in broad daylight. It’s hard for him.

But he’s around somewhere.”

Geryon smiled. “I’m sure. Minos likes to disappear when things

get…difficult.”

“Minos?” I remembered the man I’d seen in my dreams, with the golden

crown, the pointed beard, and the cruel eyes. “You mean that evil king?

That’s the ghost who’s been giving you advice?”

“It’s none of your business, Percy!” Nico turned back to Geryon. “And

what do you mean about things getting difficult?”

The three-bodied man sighed. “Well, you see, Nico—can I call you

Nico?”

“No.”

“You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for halfbloods.

Especially powerful half-bloods. And I’m sure when he learns your

little secret, who you really are, he’ll pay very, very well indeed.”

Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion knocked it out of his hand. Before I

could get up, Orthus pounced on my chest and growled, his faces an inch

away from mine.

“I would stay in the car, all of you,” Geryon warned. “Or Orthus will tear

Mr. Jackson’s throat out. Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure

Nico.”

The cowherd spit into the grass. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you fool!”

Eurytion looked bored, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and

lifted him up like a wrestler.

“Pick up the sword, too,” Geryon said with distaste. “There’s nothing I

hate worse than Stygian Iron.”

Eurytion picked up the sword, careful not to touch the blade.

“Now,” Geryon said cheerfully, “we’ve had the tour. Let’s go back to the

lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris-message to our friends in the Titan

army.”

“You fiend!” Annabeth cried.

Geryon smiled at her. “Don’t worry, my dear. Once I’ve delivered Mr. di

Angelo, you and your party can go. I don’t interfere with quests. Besides,

I’ve been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I’m afraid,

include Mr. di Angelo.

“Paid by whom?” Annabeth said. “What do you mean?”

“Never you mind, darlin’. Let’s be off, shall we?”

“Wait!” I said, and Orthus growled. I stayed perfectly still so he wouldn’t

tear my throat out. “Geryon, you said you’re a businessman. Make me a

deal.”

Geryon narrowed his eyes. “What sort of deal? Do you have gold?”

“I’ve got something better. Barter.”

“But Mr. Jackson, you’ve got nothing.”

“You could have him clean the stables,” Eurytion suggested innocently.

“I’ll do it!” I said. “If I fail, you get all of us. Trade us all to Luke for

gold.”

“Assuming the horses don’t eat you,” Geryon observed.

“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But if I succeed, you’ve got to

let all of us go, including Nico.”

“No!” Nico screamed. “Don’t do me any favors, Percy. I don’t want your

help!”

Geryon chuckled. “Percy Jackson, those stables haven’t been cleaned in a

thousand years…though it’s true I might be able to sell more stable space if

all that poop was cleared away.”

“So what have you got to lose?”

The rancher hesitated. “All right, I’ll accept your offer, but you have to

get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich.”

“Deal.”

He nodded. “I’m going to take your friends with me, back to the lodge.

We’ll wait for you there.”

Eurytion gave me a funny look. It might have been sympathy. He whistled,

and the dog jumped off me and onto Annabeth’s lap. She yelped. I knew

Tyson and grover would never try anything as long as Annabeth was hostage.

I got out of the car and locked eyes with her.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said quietly.

“I hope so, too.”

Geryon got behind the driver’s wheel. Eurytion hauled Nico into the

backseat.

“Sunset,” Geryon reminded me. “No later.”

He laughed at me once more, sounded his cowbell horn, and the moomobile

rumbled off down the trail.

 

CHAPTER NINE: I SCOOP POOP

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I lost hope when I saw the horses’ teeth.

As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block the

smell. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He

bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear’s.

I tried to talk to him in my mind. I can do that with most horses.

Hi, I told him. I’m going to clean your stables. Won’t that be great?

Yes! The horse said. Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood!

But I’m Poseidon’s son, I protested. He created horses.

Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, but not this

time.

Yes! The horse agreed enthusiastically. Poseidon can come in, too! We

will eat you both! Seafood!

Seafood! The other horses chimed in as they waded through the field.

Flies were buzzing everywhere, and the heat of the day didn’t make the

smell any better. I’d had some idea that I could do this challenge, because I

remembered how Hercules had done it. He’d channeled a river into the

stables and cleaned them out that way. I figured I could maybe control the

water. But if I couldn’t get close to the horses without getting eaten, that was

a problem. And the river was downhill from the stables, a lot farther away

than I’d realized, almost half a mile. The problem of the poop looked a lot

bigger up close. I picked up a rusted shovel and experimentally scooped

some away from the fence line. Great. Only four billion shovelfuls to go.

The sun was already sinking. I had a few hours at best. I decided the river

was my only hope. At least it would be easier to think at the riverside than it

was here. I set off downhill.

* * *

When I got to the river, I found a girl waiting for me. She was wearing

jeans and a green T-shirt and her long brown hair was braided with river

grass. She had a stern look on her face. Her arms were crossed.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said.

I stared at her. “Are you a naiad?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course!”

“But you speak English. And you’re out of the water.”

“What, you don’t think we can act human if we want to?”

I’d never thought about it. I kind of felt stupid, though, because I’d seen

plenty of naiads at camp, and they’d never done much more than giggle and

wave at me from the bottom of the canoe lake.

“Look,” I said. “I just came to ask—”

“I know who you are,” she said. “And I know what you want. And the

answer is no! I’m not going to have my river used again to clean that filthy

stable.”

“But—”

“Oh, save it, sea boy. You ocean-god types always think you’re soooo

much more important than some little river, don’t you? well let me tell you,

this naiad is not going to be pushed around just because your daddy is

Poseidon. This is freshwater territory, mister. The last guy who asked me

this favor—oh, he was way better-looking than you, by the way—he

convinced me, and that was the worst mistake I’ve ever made! Do you have

any idea what all that horse manure does to my ecosystem? Do I look like a

sewage treatment plant to you? My fish will die. I’ll never get the much out

of my plants. I’ll be sick for years. NO THANK YOU!”

The way she talked reminded me of my mortal friend, Rachel Elizabeth

Dare—kind of like she was punching me with words. I couldn’t blame the

naiad. Now that I thought about it, I’d be pretty mad if somebody dumped

four million pounds of manure in my home. But still…”

“My friends are in danger,” I told her.

“Well, that’s too bad! But it’s not my problem. And you’re not going to

ruin my river.”

She looked like she was ready for a fight. Her fists were balled, but I

thought I heard a little quiver in her voice. Suddenly I realized that despite

her angry attitude, she was afraid of me. She probably thought I was going

to fight her for control of the river, and she was worried she would lose.

The thought made me sad. I felt like a bully, a son of Poseidon throwing

his weight around.

I sat down on a tree stump. “Okay, you win.”

The naiad looked surprised. “Really?”

“I’m not going to fight you. It’s your river.”

She relaxed her shoulders. “Oh. Oh, good. I mean—good thing for you!”

“But my friends and I are going to get sold to the Titans if I don’t clean

those stables by sunset. And I don’t know how.”

The river gurgled along cheerfully. A snake slid through the water and

ducked its head under. Finally the naiad sighed.

“I’ll tell you a secret, son of the sea god. Scoop up some dirt.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

I crouched down and scooped up a handful of Texas dirt. It was dry and

black and spotted with tiny clumps of white rock…No, something besides

rock.

“Those are shells,” the naiad said. “Petrified seashells. Millions of years

ago, even before the time of the gods, when only Gaea and Ouranos reigned,

this land was under the water. It was part of the sea.”

Suddenly I saw what she meant. There were little pieces of ancient sea

urchins in my hand, mollusk shells. Even the limestone rocks had

impressions of seashells embedded in them.

“Okay,” I said. “What good does that do me?”

“You’re not so different from me, demigod. Even when I’m out of the

water, the water is within me. It is my life source.” She stepped back, put her

feet in the river, and smiled. “I hope you find a way to rescue your friends.”

And with that she turned to liquid and melted into the river.

* * *

The sun was touching the hills when I got back to the stables. Somebody

must’ve come by and fed the horses, because they were tearing into huge

animal carcasses. I couldn’t tell what kind of animal, and I really didn’t want

to know. If it was possible for the stables to get more disgusting, fifty horses

tearing into raw meat did it.

Seafood! one thought when he saw me. Come in! We’re still hungry!

What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t use the river. And the fact that this

place had been under water a million years ago didn’t exactly help me now. I

looked at the little calcified seashell in my palm, then at the huge mountain

of dung.

Frustrated, I threw the shell into the poop. I was about to turn my back on

the horses when I heard a sound.

PFFFFFFT! Like a balloon with a leak.

I looked down where I had thrown the shell. A tiny spout of water was

shooting out of the muck.

“No way,” I muttered.

Hesitantly, I stepped toward the fence. “Get bigger,” I told the waterspout.

SPOOOOOOOSH!

Water shot three feet into the air and kept bubbling. It was impossible, but

there it was. A couple of horses came over to check it out. One put his

mouth to the spring and recoiled.

Yuck! he said. Salty!

It was seawater in the middle of a Texas ranch. I scooped up another

handful of dirt and picked out the shell fossils. I didn’t really know what I

was doing, but I ran around the length of the stable, throwing shells into the

dung piles. Everywhere a shell hit, a saltwater spring erupted.

Stop! The horses cried. Meat is good! Baths are bad!

Then I noticed the water wasn’t running out of the stables or flowing

downhill like water normally would. It simply bubbled around each spring

and sank into the ground, taking the dung with it. The horse poop dissolved

in the saltwater, leaving regular old wet dirt.

“More!” I yelled.

There was a tugging sensation in my gut, and the waterspouts exploded

like the world’s largest carwash. Salt water shot twenty feet into the air. The

horses went crazy, running back and forth as the geysers sprayed them from

all directions. Mountains of poop began to melt like ice.

The tugging sensation became more intense, painful even, but there was

something exhilarating about seeing all that salt water. I had made this. I had

brought the ocean to this hillside.

Stop, lord! a horse cried. Stop, please!

Water was sloshing everywhere now. The horses were drenched, and

some were panicking and slipping in the mud. The poop was completely

gone, tons of it just dissolved into the earth, and the water was now starting

to pool, trickling out of the stable, making a hundred little streams down

toward the river.

“Stop,” I told the water.

Nothing happened. The pain in my gut was building. If I didn’t shut off

the geysers soon, the salt water would run into the river and poison the fish

and plants.

“Stop!” I concentrated all my might on shutting off the force of the sea.

Suddenly the geysers shut down. I collapsed to my knees, exhausted. In

front of me was a shiny clean horse stable, a field of wet salty mud, and fifty

horses that had been scoured so thoroughly their coats gleamed. Even the

meat scraps between their teeth had been washed out.

We won’t eat you! the horses wailed. Please, lord! no more salty baths!

“On one condition,” I said. “You only eat the food your handlers give you

from now on. Not people. Or I’ll be back with more seashells!”

The horses whinnied and made me a whole lot of promises that they

would be good flesh-eating horses from now on, but I didn’t stick around to

chat. The sun was going down. I turned and ran full speed toward the ranch

house.

* * *

I smelled barbecue before I reached the house, and that made me madder

than ever, because I really love barbecue.

The deck was set up for a party. Streamers and balloons decorated the

railing. Geryon was flipping burgers on a huge barbecue cooker made from

an oil drum. Eurytion lounged at a picnic table, picking his fingernails with a

knife. The two-headed dog sniffed the ribs and burgers that were frying on

the grill. And then I saw my friends: Tyson, Grover, Annabeth, and Nico all

tossed in a corner, tied up like rodeo animals, with their ankles and wrists

roped together and their mouths gagged.

“Let them go!” I yelled, still out of breath from running up the steps. “I

cleaned the stables!”

Geryon turned. He wore an apron on each chest, with one word on each,

so together they spelled out: KISS—THE—CHEF. “Did you, now? How’d

you manage it?”

I was pretty impatient, but I told him.

He nodded appreciatively. “Very ingenious. It would’ve been better if

you’d poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter.”

“Let my friends go,” I said. “We had a deal.”

“Ah, I’ve been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I

don’t get paid.”

“You promised!”

Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. “But did you make me swear on the River

Styx? No you didn’t. So it’s not binding. When you’re conducting business,

sonny, you should always get a binding oath.”

I drew my sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to

Grover’s ear and bared its fangs.

“Eurytion,” Geryon said, “the boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him.”

Eurytion studied me. I didn’t like my odds against him and that huge club.

“Kill him yourself,” Eurytion said.

Geryon raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Eurytion grumbled. “You keep sending me out to do

your dirty work. You pick fights for no good reason, and I’m getting tired of

dying for you. You want to fight the kid, do it yourself.”

It was the most un-Areslike thing I’d ever heard son of Ares say.

Geryon threw down his spatula. “You dare defy me? I should fire you

right now!”

“And who’d take care of your cattle? Orthus, heel.”

The dog immediately stopped growling at Grover and came to sit by the

cowherd’s feet.

“Fine!” Geryon snarled. “I’ll deal with you later, after the boy is dead!”

He picked up two carving knives and threw them at me. I deflected one

with my sword. The other impaled itself in the picnic table an inch from

Eurytion’s hand.

I went on the attack. Geryon parried my first strike with a pair of red-hot

tongs and lunged at my face with a barbecue fork. I got inside his next thrust

and stabbed him right through the middle chest.

“Aghhh!” He crumpled to his knees. I waited for him to disintegrate, the

way monsters usually do. But instead he just grimaced and started to stand

up. The wound in his chef’s apron started to heal.

“Nice try, sonny,” he said. “Thing is, I have three hearts. The perfect

backup system.”

He tipped over the barbecue, and coals spilled everywhere. One landed

next to Annabeth’s face, and she let out a muffled scream. Tyson strained

against his bonds, but even his strength wasn’t enough to break them. I had

to end this fight before my friends got hurt.

I jabbed Geryon in the left chest, but he only laughed. I stuck him in the

right stomach. No good. I might as well have been sticking a sword in a

teddy bear for all the reaction he showed.

Three hearts. The perfect backup system. Stabbing one at a time was no

good….

I ran into the house.

“Coward!” he cried. “Come back and die right!”

The living room walls were decorated with a bunch of gruesome hunting

trophies—stuffed deer and dragon heads, a gun case, a sword display, and a

bow with a quiver.

Geryon threw his barbecue fork, and it thudded into the wall right next to

my head. He drew two swords from the wall display. “Your head’s gonna go

right there, Jackson! Next to the grizzly bear!”

I had a crazy idea. I dropped Riptide and grabbed the bow off the wall.

I was the worst archery shot in the world. I couldn’t hit the targets at camp,

much less a bull’s eye. But I had no choice. I couldn’t win this fight with a

sword. I prayed to Artemis and Apollo, the twin archers, hoping they might

take pity on me for once. Please, guys. Just one shot. Please.

I notched an arrow.

Geryon laughed. “You fool! One arrow is no better than one sword.”

He raised his swords and charged. I dove sideways. Before he could turn,

I shot my arrow into the side of his right chest. I heard THUMP, THUMP,

THUMP, as the arrow passed clean through each of his chests and flew out

his left side, embedding itself in the forehead of the grizzly bear trophy.

Geryon dropped his swords. He turned and stared at me. “You can’t shoot.

They told me you couldn’t…”

His face turned a sickly shade of green. He collapsed to his knees and

began crumbling into sand, until all that was left were three cooking aprons

and an oversized pair of cowboy boots.

* * *

I got my friends untied. Eurytion didn’t try to stop me. Then I stoked up

the barbecue and threw the food into the flames as a burnt offering for

Artemis and Apollo.

“Thanks, guys,” I said. “I owe you one.”

The sky thundered in the distance, so I figured maybe the burgers smelled

okay.

“Yay for Percy!” Tyson said.

“Can we tie up this cowherd now?” Nico asked.

“Yeah!” Grover agreed. “And that dog almost killed me!”

I looked at Eurytion, who still was sitting relaxed at the picnic table.

Orthus had both his heads on the cowherd’s knees.

“How long will it take Geryon to re-form?” I asked him.

Eurytion shrugged. “Hundred years? He’s not one of those fast re-formers,

thank the gods. You’ve done me a favor.”

“You said you’d died for him before,” I remembered. “How?”

“I’ve worked for that creep for thousands of years. Started as a regular

half-blood, but I chose immortality when my dad offered it. Worst mistake I

ever made. Now I’m stuck here at this ranch. I can’t leave. I can’t quit. I just

tend the cows and fight Geryon’s fights. We’re kinda tied together.”

“Maybe you can change things,” I said.

Eurytion narrowed his eyes. “How?”

“Be nice to the animals. Take care of them. Stop selling them for food.

And stop dealing with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about that. “That’d be all right.”

“Get the animals on your side, and they’ll help you. Once Geryon gets

back, maybe he’ll be working for you this time.”

Eurytion grinned. “Now, that I could live with.”

“You won’t try to stop us leaving?”

“Shoot, no.”

Annabeth rubbed her bruised wrists. She was still looking at Eurytion

suspiciously. “Your boss said somebody paid for our safe passage. Who?”

The cowherd shrugged. “Maybe he was just saying that to fool you.”

“What about the Titans?” I asked. “Did you Iris-message them about Nico

yet?”

“Nope. Geryon was waiting until after the barbecue. They don’t know

about him.”

Nico as glaring at me. I wasn’t sure what to do about him. I doubted he

would agree to come with us. On the other hand, I couldn’t just let him roam

around on his own.

“You could stay here until we’re done with our quest,” I told him. “It

would be safe.”

“Safe?” Nico said. “What do you care if I’m safe? You got my sister

killed!”

“Nico,” Annabeth said, “that wasn’t Percy’s fault. And Geryon wasn’t

lying about Kronos wanting to capture you. If he knew who you were, he’d

do anything to get you on his side.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not afraid.”

“You should be,” Annabeth said. “Your sister wouldn’t want—”

“If you cared for my sister, you’d help me bring her back!”

“A soul for a soul?” I said.

“Yes!”

“But if you didn’t want my soul—”

“I’m not explaining anything to you!” He blinked tears out of his eyes.

“And I will bring her back.”

“Bianca wouldn’t want to be brought back,” I said. “Not like that.”

“You didn’t know her!” he shouted. “How do you know what she’d

want?”

I stared at the flames in the barbecue pit. I thought about the line in

Annabeth’s prophecy: You shall rise or fall by the ghost king’s hand. That

had to be Minos, and I had to convince Nico not to listen to him. “Let’s ask

Bianca.”

The sky seemed to grow darker all of a sudden.

“I’ve tried,” Nico said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again. I’ve got a feeling she’ll answer with me here.”

“Why would she?”

“Because she’s been sending me Iris-messages,” I said, suddenly sure of it.

“She’s been trying to warn me what you’re up to, so I can protect you.”

Nico shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

“One way to find out. You said you’re not afraid.” I turned to Eurytion.

“We’re going to need a pit, like a grave. And food and drinks.”

“Percy,” Annabeth warned. “I don’t think this is a good—”

“All right,” Nico said. “I’ll try.”

Eurytion scratched his beard. “There’s a hole dug out back for a septic

tank. We could use that. Cyclops boy, fetch my ice chest from the kitchen. I

hope the dead like root beer.”

 

CHAPTER TEN:WE PLAY THE GAME SHOW OF DEATH

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We did our summons after dark, at a twenty-foot-long pit in front of the

septic tank. The tank was bright yellow, with a smiley face and red words

painted on the side: HAPPY FLUSH DISPOSAL CO. It didn’t quite go with

the mood of summoning the dead.

The moon was full. Silver clouds drifted across the sky.

“Minos should be here by now,” Nico said, frowning. “It’s full dark.”

“Maybe he got lost,” I said hopefully.

Nico poured root beer and tossed barbecue into the pit, then began

chanting in Ancient Greek. Immediately the bugs in the woods stopped

chirping. In my pocket, the Stygian ice dog whistle started to grow colder,

freezing against the side of my leg.

“Make him stop,” Tyson whispered to me.

Part of me agreed. This was unnatural. The night air felt cold and

menacing. But before I could say anything, the first spirits appeared.

Sulfurous mist seeped out of the ground. Shadows thickened into human

forms. One blue shade drifted to the edge of the pit and knelt to drink.

“Stop him!” Nico said, momentarily breaking his chant. “Only Bianca

may drink!”

I drew Riptide. The ghosts retreated with a collective hiss at the sight of

my celestial bronze blade. But it was too late to stop the first spirit. He had

already solidified into the shape of a bearded man in white robes. A circlet

of gold wreathed his head, and even in death his eyes were alive with malice.

“Minos!” Nico said. “What are you doing?”

“My apologies, master,” the ghost said, though he didn’t sound very sorry.

“The sacrifice smelled so good, I couldn’t resist.” He examined his own

hands and smiled. “It is good to see myself again. Almost in solid form—”

“You are disrupting the ritual!” Nico protested. “Get—”

The spirits of the dead began shimmering dangerously bright, and Nico

had to take up the chant again to keep them at bay.

“Yes, quite right, master,” Minos said with amusement. “You keep

chanting. I’ve only come to protect you from these liars who would deceive

you.”

He turned to me as if I were some kind of cockroach. “Percy

Jackson…my, my. The sons of Poseidon haven’t improved over the

centuries, have they?”

I wanted to punch him, but I figured my fist would go right through his

face. “We’re looking for Bianca di Angelo,” I said. “Get lost.”

The ghost chuckled. “I understand you once killed my Minotaur with your

bare hands. But worse things await you in the maze. Do you really believe

Daedalus will help you?”

The other spirits stirred in agitation. Annabeth drew her knife and helped

me keep them away from the pit. Grover got so nervous he clung to Tyson’s

shoulder.

“Daedalus cares nothing for you, half-bloods,” Minos warned. “You can’t

trust him. He is old beyond counting, and crafty. He is bitter from the guilt

of murder and is cursed by the gods.”

“The guilt of murder?” I asked. “Who did he kill?”

“Do not changed the subject!” the ghost growled. “You are hindering

Nico. You try to persuade him to give up on his goal. I would make him a

lord!”

“Enough, Mions,” Nico commanded.

The ghost sneered. “Master, these are your enemies. You must not listen

to them! Let me protect you. i will turn their minds to madness, as I did the

others.”

“The others?” Annabeth gasped. “You mean Chris Rodriguez? That was

you?”

“The maze is my property,” the ghost said, “not Daedalus’s! Those who

intrude deserve madness.”

“Be gone, Minos!” Nico demanded. “I want to see my sister!”

The ghost bit back his rage. “As you wish, master. But I warn you. You

cannot trust these heroes.”

With that, he faded into mist.

Other spirits rushed forward, but Annabeth and I kept them back.

“Bianca, appear!” Nico intoned. He started chanting faster, and the spirits

shifted restlessly.

“Any time now,” Grover muttered.

Then a silvery light flickered in the trees—a spirit that seemed brighter

and stronger than the others. It came closer, and something told me to let it

pass. It knelt to drink at the pit. When it arose, it was the ghostly form of

Bianca di Angelo.

Nico’s chanting faltered. I lowered my sword. The other spirits started to

crowd forward, but Bianca raised her arms and they retreated into the woods.

“Hello, Percy,” she said.

She looked the same as she had in life: a green cap set sideways on her

thick black hair, dark eyes and olive skin like her brother. She wore jeans

and a silvery jacket, the outfit of a Hunter of Artemis. A bow was slung over

her shoulder. She smiled faintly, and her whole form flickered.

“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a

long time, but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death

was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the

giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any

sign of her.

“I’m so sorry,” I said.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Percy. I made my own choice. I don’t

regret it.”

“Bianca!” Nico stumbled forward like he was just coming out of a daze.

She turned toward her brother. Her expression was sad, as if she’d been

dreading this moment. “Hello, Nico. You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me sooner?” he cried. “I’ve been trying for

months!”

“I was hoping you would give up.”

“Give up?” He sounded heartbroken. “How can you say that? I’m trying

to save you!”

“You can’t, Nico. Don’t do this. Percy is right.”

“No! He let you die! He’s not your friend.”

Bianca stretched out a hand as if to touch her brother’s face, but she was

made of mist. Her hand evaporated as it got close to living skin.

“You must listen to me,” she said. “Holding a grudge is dangerous for a

child of Hades. It is our fatal flaw. You have to forgive. You have to

promise me this.”

“I can’t. Never.”

“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what

you were up to, hoping he would find you.”

“So it was you,” I said. “You sent those Iris-messages.”

Bianca nodded.

“Why are you helping him and not me?” Nico screamed. “It’s not fair!”

“You are close to the truth now,” Bianca told him. “It’s not Percy you’re

mad at, Nico. It’s me.”

“No.”

“You’re mad because I left you to become a Hunter of Artemis. You’re

mad because I died and left you alone. I’m sorry for that, Nico. I truly am.

But you must overcome the anger. And stop blaming Percy for my choices.

It will be your doom.”

“She’s right,” Annabeth broke in. “Kronos is rising, Nico. He’ll twist

anyone he can to his cause.”

“I don’t care about Kronos,” Nico said. “I just want my sister back.”

“You can’t have that, Nico,” Bianca told him gently.

“I’m the son of Hades! I can.”

“Don’t try,” she said. “If you love me, don’t…”

Her voice trailed off. Spirits had started to gather around us again, and

they seemed agitated. Their shadows shifted. Their voices whispered,

Danger!

“Tartarus stirs,” Bianca said. “Your power draws the attention of Kronos.

The dead must return to the Underworld. It is not safe for us to remain.”

“Wait,” Nico said. “Please—”

“Good-bye, Nico,” Bianca said. “I love you. Remember what I said.”

Her form shivered and the ghosts disappeared, leaving us alone with a pit,

a Happy Flush septic tank, and a cold full moon.

* * *

None of us were anxious to travel that night, so we decided to wait until

morning. Grover and I crashed on the leather couches in Geryon’s living

room, which was a lot more comfortable than a bedroll in the maze; but it

didn’t make my nightmares any better.

I dreamed I was with Luke, walking through the dark palace on top of

Mount Tam. It was a real building now—not some half-finished illusion like

I’d seen last winter. Green fires burned in braziers along the walls. The floor

was polished black marble. A cold wind blew down the hallway, and above

us through the open ceiling, the sky swirled with gray storm clouds.

Luke was dressed for battle. He wore camouflage pants, a white T-shirt,

and a bronze breastplate, but his sword, Backbiter, wasn’t at his side—only

and empty scabbard. We walked into a large courtyard where dozens of

warriors and dracaenae were preparing for war. When they saw him, the

demigods rose to attention. They beat their swords against their shields.

“Issss it time, my lord?” a dracaena asked.

“Soon,” Luke promised. “Continue your work.”

“My lord,” a voice said behind him. Kelli the empousa was smiling at him.

She wore a blue dress tonight, and looked wickedly beautiful. Her eyes

flickered—sometimes dark brown, sometimes pure red. Her hair was braided

down her back and seemed to catch the light of the torches, as if it were

anxious to turn back into pure flame.

My heart was pounding. I waited for Kelli to see me, to chase me out of

the dream as she did before, but this time she didn’t seem to notice me.

“You have a visitor,” she told Luke. She stepped aside, and even Luke

seemed stunned by what he saw.

The monster Kampê towered above him. Her snakes hissed around her

legs. Animal heads growled at her waist. Her swords were drawn,

shimmering with poison, and with her bat wings extended, she took up the

entire corridor.

“You.” Luke’s voice sounded a little shaky. “I told you to stay on

Alcatraz.”

Kampê’s eyelids blinked sideways like a reptile’s. she spoke in that weird

rumbling language, but this time I understood, somewhere in the back of my

mind: I come to serve. Give me revenge.

“You’re a jailor,” Luke said. “Your job—”

I will have them dead. No one escapes me.

Luke hesitated. A line of sweat trickled down the side of his face. “Very

well,” he said. “You will go with us. You may carry Ariadne’s string. It is a

position of great honor.”

Kampê hissed at the stars. She sheathed her swords and turned, pounding

down the hallway on her enormous dragon legs.

“We should have left that one in Tartarus,” Luke mumbled. “She is too

chaotic. Too powerful.”

Kelli laughed softly. “You should not fear power, Luke. Use it!”

“The sooner we leave, the better,” Luke said. “I want this over with.”

“Aww,” Kelli sympathized, running a finger down his arm. “You find it

unpleasant to destroy your old camp?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re not having second thoughts about your own, ah, special part?”

Luke’s face turned stony. “I know my duty.”

“That is good,” the demon said. “Is our strike force sufficient, do you

think? Or will I need to call Mother Hecate for help?”

“We have more than enough,” Luke said grimly. “The deal is almost

complete. All I need now is to negotiate safe passage through the arena.”

“Mmm,” Kelli said. “That should be interesting. I would hate to see your

handsome head on a spike if you fail.”

“I will not fail. And you, demon, don’t you have other matters to attend

to?”

“Oh, yes.” Kelli smiled. “I am bringing despair to your eavesdropping

enemies. I am doing that right now.”

She turned her eyes directly on me, exposed her talons, and ripped

through my dream.

Suddenly I was in a different place.

I stood at the top of a stone tower, overlooking rocky cliffs and the ocean

below. The old man Daedalus was hunched over a worktable, wrestling with

some kind of navigational instrument, like a huge compass. He looked years

older than when I’d last seen him. He was stooped and his hands were

gnarled. He cursed in Ancient Greek and squinted as if he couldn’t see his

work, even though it was a sunny day.

“Uncle!” a voice called.

A smiling boy about Nico’s age came bounding up the steps, carrying a

wooden box.

“Hello, Perdix,” the old man said, though his tone sounded cold. “Done

with your projects already?”

“Yes, Uncle. They were easy!”

Daedalus scowled. “Easy? The problem of moving water uphill without a

pump was easy?”

“Oh, yes! Look!”

The boy dumped his box and rummaged through the junk. He came up

with a strip of papyrus and showed the old inventor some diagrams and

notes. They didn’t make any sense to me, but Daedalus nodded grudgingly.

“I see. Not bad.”

“The king loved it!” Perdix said. “He said I might be even smarter than

you!”

“Did he now?”

“But I don’t believe that. I’m so glad Mother sent me to study with you! I

want to know everything you do.”

“Yes,” Daedalus muttered. “So when I die, you can take my place, eh?”

The boys’ eyes widened. “Oh no, Uncle! But I’ve been thinking…why

does a man have to die, anyway?”

The inventor scowled. “It is the way of things, lad. Everything dies but the

gods.”

“But why?” the boy insisted. “If you could capture the animus, the soul in

another form…well, you’ve told me about your automatons, Uncle. Bulls,

eagles, dragons, horses of bronze. Why not a bronze form for a man?”

“No, my boy,” Daedalus said sharply. “You are naïve. Such a thing is

impossible.”

“I don’t think so,” Perdix insisted. “With the use of a little magic—”

“Magic? Bah!”

“Yes, Uncle! Magic and mechanics together—with a little work, one

could make a body that would look exactly human, only better. I’ve made

some notes.”

He handed the old man a thick scroll. Daedalus unfurled it. He read for a

long time. His eyes narrowed. He glanced at the boy, then closed the scroll

and cleared his throat. “It would never work, my boy. When you’re older,

you’ll see.”

“Can I fix that astrolabe, then, Uncle? Are your joints swelling up again?”

The old man’s jaw clenched. “No. Thank you. Now why don’t you run

along?”

Perdix didn’t seem to notice the old man’s anger. He snatched a bronze

beetle from his mound of stuff and ran to the edge of the tower. A low sill

ringed the rim, coming just up to the boy’s knees. The wind was strong.

Move back, I wanted to tell him. But my voice didn’t work.

Perdix wound up the beetle and tossed it into the sky. It spread its wings

and hummed away. Perdix laughed with delight.

“Smarter than me,” Daedalus mumbled, too soft for the boy to hear.

“Is it true that your son died flying, Uncle? I heard you made him

enormous wings, but they failed.”

Daedalus’s hands clenched. “Take my place,” he muttered.

The wind whipped around the boy, tugging at his clothes, making his hair

ripple.

“I would like to fly,” Perdix said. “I’d make my own wings that wouldn’t

fail. Do you think I could?”

Maybe it was a dream within my dream, but suddenly I imagined the twoheaded

god Janus shimmering in the air next to Daedalus, smiling as he

tossed a silver key from hand to hand. Choose, he whispered to the old

inventor. Choose.

Daedalus picked up another one of the boy’s metal bags. The inventor’s

old eyes were red with anger.

“Perdix,” he called. “Catch.”

He tossed the bronze beetle toward the boy. Delighted, Perdix tried to

catch it, but the throw was too long. The beetle sailed into the sky, and

Perdix reached a little too far. The wind caught him.

Somehow he managed to grab the rim of the tower with his fingers as he

fell. “Uncle!” he screamed. “Help me!”

The old man’s face was a mask. He did not move from his spot.

“Go on, Perdix,” Daedalus said softly. “May your own wings. Be quick

about it.”

“Uncle!” the boy cried as he lost his grip. He tumbled toward the sea.

There was a moment of deadly silence. The god Janus flickered and

disappeared. Then thunder shook the sky. A woman’s stern voice spoke

from above: You will pay the price for that, Daedalus.

I’d heard that voice before. It was Annabeth’s mother: Athena.

Daedalus scowled up at the heavens. “I have always honored you, Mother.

I have sacrificed everything to follow your way.”

Yet the boy had my blessing as well. And you have killed him. For that,

you must pay.

‘I have paid and paid!” Daedalus growled. “I’ve lost everything. I’ll suffer

in the Underworld, no doubt. But in the meantime…”

He picked up the boy’s scroll, studied it for a moment, and slipped it into

his sleeve.

You do not understand, Athena said coldly. You will pay now and forever.

Suddenly Daedalus collapsed in agony. I felt what he felt. A searing pain

closed around my neck like a molten-hot collar—cutting off my breath,

making everything go black.

* * *

I woke in the dark, my hands clutching my throat.

“Percy?” Grover called from the other sofa. “Are you okay?”

I steadied my breathing. I wasn’t sure how to answer. I’d just watched the

guy we were looking for, Daedalus, murder his own nephew. How could I

be okay? The television was going. Blue light flickered through the room.

“What—what time is it?” I croaked.

“Two in the morning,” Grover said. “I couldn’t sleep. I was watching the

Nature Channel.” He sniffled. “I miss Juniper.”

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “Yeah, well…you’ll see her again

soon.”

Grover shook his head sadly. “Do you know what day it is, Percy? I just

saw it on TV. It’s June thirteenth. Seven days since we left camp.”

“What?” I said. “That can’t be right.”

“Time is faster in the Labyrinth,” Grover reminded me. “The first time

you and Annabeth went down there, you thought you were only gone a few

minutes, right? But it was an hour.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.” Then it dawned on me what he was saying, and my

throat felt searing hot again. “Your deadline with the Council of Cloven

Elders.”

Grover put the TV remote in his mouth and crunched off the end of it.

“I’m out of time,” he said with a mouthful of plastic. “As soon as I go back,

they’ll take away my searcher’s license. I’ll never be allowed to go out

again.”

“We’ll talk to them,” I promised. “Make them give you more time.”

Grover swallowed. “They’ll never go for it. The world is dying, Percy.

What you did today—saving the ranch animals from Geryon—that was

amazing. I—I wish I could be more like you.”

“Hey,” I said. “Don’t say that. You’re just as much a hero—”

“No I’m not. I keep trying, but…” He sighed. “Percy, I can’t go back to

camp without finding Pan. I just can’t. You understand that, don’t you? I

can’t face Juniper if I fail. I can’t even face myself.”

His voice was so unhappy it hurt to hear. We’d been through a lot

together, but I’d never heard him sound this down.

“We’ll figure out something,” I said. “You haven’t failed. You’re the

champion goat boy, all right? Juniper knows that. So do I.”

Grover closed his eyes. “Champion goat boy,” he muttered dejectedly.

A long time after he dozed off, I was still awake, watching the blue light

of the Nature Channel wash over the stuffed trophy heads on Geryon’s walls.

* * *

The next morning we walked down to the cattle guard and said our goodbyes.

“Nico, you could come with us,” I blurted out. I guess I was thinking

about my dream, and how much the young boy Perdix reminded me of Nico.

He shook his head. I don’t think any of us had slept well in the demon

ranch house, but Nico looked worse than anybody else. His eyes were red

and his face chalky. He was wrapped in a black robe that must’ve belonged

to Geryon, because it was three sizes too big even for a grown man.

“I need time to think.” His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, but I could tell from

his tone he was still angry. The fact that his sister had come out of the

Underworld for me and not for him didn’t seem to sit well with him.

“Nico,” Annabeth said. “Bianca just wants you to be okay.”

She put her hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away and trudged up the

road toward the ranch house. Maybe it was my imagination, but the morning

mist seemed to cling to him as he walked.

“I’m worried about him,” Annabeth told me. “If he starts talking to

Minos’s ghost again—”

“He’ll be al right,” Eurytion promised. The cowherd had cleaned up

nicely. He was wearing new jeans and a clean Western shirt and he’d even

trimmed his beard. He’d put on Geryon’s boots. “The boy can stay here and

gather his thoughts as long as he wants. He’ll be safe, I promise.”

“What about you?” I asked.

Eurytion scratched Orthus behind one chin, then the other. “Things are

going to be run a little different on this ranch from now on. No more sacred

cattle meat. I’m thinking about soybean patties. And I’m going to befriend

those flesh-eating horses. Might just sign up for the next rodeo.”

The idea made me shudder. “Well, good luck.”

“Yep.” Eurytion spit into the grass. “I reckon you’ll be looking for

Daedalus’s workshop now?”

Annabeth’s eyes lit up. “Can you help us?”

Eurytion studied the cattle guard, and I got the feeling the subject of

Daedalus’s workshop made him uncomfortable. “Don’t know where it is.

But Hephaestus probably would.”

“That’s what Hera said,” Annabeth agreed. “But how do we find

Hephaestus?”

Eurytion pulled something from under the collar of his shirt. It was a

necklace—a smooth silver disk on a silver chain. The disk had a depression

on the middle, like a thumbprint. He handed it to Annabeth.

“Hephaestus comes here from time to time,” Eurytion said. “Studies the

animals and such so he can make bronze automaton copies. Last time, I—

uh—did him a favor. A little trick he wanted to play on my dad, Ares, and

Aphrodite. He gave me that chain in gratitude. Said if I ever needed to find

him, the disk would lead me to his forges. But only once.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” Annabeth asked.

Eurytion blushed. “I don’t need to see the forges, miss. Got enough to do

here. Just press the button and you’ll be on your way.”

Annabeth pressed the button and the disk sprang to life. It grew eight

metallic legs. Annabeth shrieked and dropped it, much to Eurytion’s

confusion.

“Spider!” she screamed.

“She’s, um, a little scared of spiders,” Grover explained. “That old grudge

between Athena and Arachne.”

“Oh.” Eurytion looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry, miss.”

The spider scrambled to the cattle guard and disappeared between the bars.

“Hurry,” I said. “That thing’s not going to wait for us.”

Annabeth wasn’t anxious to follow, but we didn’t have much choice. We

said our good-byes to Eurytion, Tyson pulled the cattle guard off the hole,

and we dropped back into the maze.

* * *

I wish I could’ve put the mechanical spider on a leash. It scuttled along

the tunnels so fast, most of time I couldn’t even see it. If it hadn’t been for

Tyson’s and Grover’s excellent hearing, we never would’ve known which

way it was going.

We ran down a marble tunnel, then dashed to the left and almost fell into

an abyss. Tyson grabbed me and hauled me back before I could fall. The

tunnel continued in front of us, but there was no floor for about a hundred

feet, just gaping darkness and a series of iron rungs in the ceiling. The

mechanical spider was about halfway across, swinging from bar to bar by

shooting out metal web fiber.

“Monkey bars,” Annabeth said. “I’m great at these.”

She leaped onto the first rung and started swinging her way across. She

was scared of tiny spiders, but not of plummeting to her death from a set of

monkey bars. Go figure.

Annabeth got to the opposite side and ran after the spider. I followed.

When I got across, I looked back and saw Tyson giving Grover a piggyback

ride (or was it a goatyback ride?). the big guy made it across in three swings,

which was a good thing since, just as he landed, the last iron bar ripped free

under his weight.

We kept moving and passed a skeleton crumpled in the tunnel. It work the

remains of a dress shirt, slacks, and a tie. The spider didn’t slow down. I

slipped on a pile of wood scraps, but when I shined a light on them I realized

they were pencils—hundreds of them, all broken in half.

The tunnel opened up onto a large room. A blazing light hit us. Once my

eyes adjusted, the first thing I noticed were the skeletons. Dozens littered the

floor around us. Some were old and bleached white. Others were more

recent and a lot grosser. They didn’t smell quite as bad as Geryon’s stables,

but almost.

Then I saw the monster. She stood on a glittery dais on the opposite side

of the room. She had the body of a huge lion and the head of a woman. She

would’ve been pretty, but her hair was tied back in a tight bun and she wore

too much makeup, so she kind of reminded me of my third-grade choir

teacher. She had a blue ribbon badge pinned to her chest that took me a

moment to read: THIS MONSTER HAS BEEN RATED EXEMPLARY!

Tyson whimpered. “Sphinx.”

I knew exactly why he was scared. When he was small, Tyson had been

attacked by a Sphinx’s paws and disappeared.

Annabeth started forward, but the Sphinx roared, showing fangs in her

otherwise human face. Bars came down on both tunnel exits, behind us and

in front.

Immediately the monster’s snarl turned into a brilliant smile.

“Welcome, lucky contestants!” she announced. “Get ready to

play…ANSWER THAT RIDDLE!”

Canned applause blasted from the ceiling, as if there were invisible

loudspeakers. Spotlights swept across the room and reflected off the dais,

throwing disco glitter over the skeletons on the floor.

“Fabulous prizes!” the Sphinx said. “Pass the test, and you get to advance!

Fail, and I get to eat you! Who will be our contestant?”

Annabeth grabbed my arm. “I’ve got this,” she whispered. “I know what

she’s going to ask.”

I didn’t argue too hard. I didn’t want Annabeth getting devoured by a

monster, but I figured if the Sphinx was going to ask riddles, Annabeth was

the best one of us to try.

She stepped forward to the contestant’s podium, which had a skeleton in a

school uniform hunched over it. She pushed the skeleton out of the way, and

it clattered to the floor.

“Sorry,” Annabeth told it.

“Welcome, Annabeth Chase!” the monster cried, though Annabeth hadn’t

said her name. “Are you ready for your test?”

“Yes,” she said. “Ask your riddle.”

“Twenty riddles, actually!” the Sphinx said gleefully.

“What? But back in the old days—”

“Oh, we’ve raised our standards! To pass, you must show proficiency in

all twenty. Isn’t that great?”

Applause switched on and off like somebody turning a faucet.

Annabeth glanced at me nervously. I gave her an encouraging nod.

“Okay,” she told the Sphinx. “I’m ready.”

A drumroll sounded from above. The Sphinx’s eyes glittered with

excitement. “What…is the capital of Bulgaria?”

Annabeth frowned. For a terrible moment, I thought she was stumped.

“Sofia,” she said, “but—”

“Correct!” More canned applause. The Sphinx smiled so widely her fangs

showed. “Please be sure to mark your answer clearly on your test sheet with

a number 2 pencil.”

“What?” Annabeth looked mystified. Then a test booklet appeared on the

podium in front of her, along with a sharpened pencil.

“Make sure you bubble each answer clearly and stay inside the circle,” the

Sphinx said. “If you have to erase, erase completely or the machine will not

be able to read your answers.”

“What machine?” Annabeth asked.

The Sphinx pointed with her paw. Over by the spotlight was a bronze box

with a bunch of gears and levers and a big Greek letter Ȇta on the side, the

mark of Hephaestus.

“Now,” said the Sphinx, “next question—”

“Wait a second,” Annabeth protested. “What about ‘What walks on four

legs in the morning’?”

“I beg your pardon?” the Sphinx said, clearly annoyed now.

“The riddle about the man. He walks on four legs in the morning, like a

baby, two legs in the afternoon, like an adult, and three legs in the evening,

as an old man with a cane. That’s the riddle you used to ask.”

“Exactly why we changed the test!” the Sphinx exclaimed. “You already

knew the answer. Now second question, what is the square root of sixteen?”

“Four,” Annabeth said, “but—”

“Correct! Which U.S. president signed the Emancipation Proclamation?”

“Abraham Lincoln, but—”

“Correct! Riddle number four. How much—”

“Hold up!” Annabeth shouted.

I wanted to tell her to stop complaining. She was doing great! She should

just answer the questions so we could leave.

“These aren’t riddles,” Annabeth said.

“What do you mean?” the sphinx snapped. “Of course they are. This test

material is specially designed—”

“It’s just a bunch of dumb, random facts,” Annabeth insisted. “Riddles are

supposed to make you think.”

“Think?” The Sphinx frowned. “How am I supposed to test whether you

can think? That’s ridiculous! Now, how much force is required—”

“Stop!” Annabeth insisted. “This is a stupid test.”

“Um, Annabeth,” Grover cut in nervously. “Maybe you should just, you

know, finish first and complain later?”

“I’m a child of Athena,” she insisted. “And this is an insult to my

intelligence. I won’t answer these questions.”

Part of me wsa impressed with her for standing up like that. But part of

me thought her pride was going to get us all killed.

The spotlights glared. The Sphinx’s eyes glittered pure black.

“Why then, my dear,” the monster said calmly. “If you won’t pass, you

fail. And since we can’t allow any children to be held back, you’ll be

EATEN!”

The Sphinx bared her claws, which gleamed like stainless steel. She

pounced at the podium.

“No!” Tyson charged. He hates it when people threaten Annabeth, but I

couldn’t believe he was being so brave, especially since he’d had such a bad

experience with a Sphinx before.

He tackled the Sphinx in midair and they crashed sideways into a pile of

bones. This gave Annabeth just enough time to gather her wits and draw her

knife. Tyson got up, his shirt clawed to shreds. The Sphinx growled, looking

for an opening.

I drew Riptide and stepped in front of Annabeth.

“Turn invisible,” I told her.

“I can fight!”

“No!” I yelled. “The Sphinx is after you! Let us get it.”

As if to prove my point, the Sphinx knocked Tyson aside and tried to

charge past me. Grover poked her in the eye with somebody’s leg bone. She

screeched in pain. Annabeth put on her cap and vanished. The Sphinx

pounced right were she’d been standing, but came up with empty paws.

“No fair!” the Sphinx wailed. “Cheater!”

With Annabeth no longer in sight, the Sphinx turned on me. I raised my

sword, but before I could strike, Tyson ripped the monster’s grading

machine out of the floor and threw it at the Sphinx’s head, ruining her hair

bun. It landed in pieces all around her.

“My grading machine!” she cried. “I can’t be exemplary without my test

scores!”

The bars lifted from the exits. We all dashed for the far tunnel. I could

only hope Annabeth was doing the same.

The Sphinx started to follow, but Grover raised his reed pipes and began

to play. Suddenly the pencils remembered they used to be parts of trees.

They collected around the Sphinx’s paws, grew roots and branches, and

began wrapping around the monster’s legs. The Sphinx ripped through them,

but it brought us just enough time.

Tyson pulled Grover into the tunnel, and the bars slammed shut behind us.

“Annabeth!” I yelled.

“Here!” she said, right next to me. “Keep moving!”

We ran through the dark tunnels, listening to the roar of the Sphinx behind

us as she complained about all the tests she would have to grade by hand.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN: I SET MYSELF ON FIRE

Click here to Go To Index

I thought we’d lost the spider until Tyson heard a faint pinging sound. We

made a few turns, backtracked a few times, and eventually found the spider

banging its tiny head on a metal door.

The door looked like one of those old-fashioned submarine hatches—oval,

with metal rivets around the edges and a wheel for a doorknob. Where the

portal should’ve been was a big brass plaque, green with age, with a Greek

Ȇta inscribed in the middle.

We all looked at each other.

“Ready to meet Hephaestus?” Grover said nervously.

“No,” I admitted.

“Yes!” Tyson said gleefully, and he turned the wheel.

As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right

behind it. The rest of us followed, not quite as anxious.

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic’s garage, with several

hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a

bronze hippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging

out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery

charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames.

Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls.

Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the

right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place. The staple gun was

where the hacksaw was supposed to go.

Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a ’98 Toyota Corolla,

a pair of legs stuck out—the lower half of a huge man in grubby gray pants

and shoes even bigger than Tyson’s. one leg was in a metal brace.

The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging

stopped.

“Well, well,” a deep voice boomed from under the Corolla. “What have

we here?”

The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up. I’d seen

Hephaestus once before, briefly on Olympus, so I thought I was prepared,

but his appearance made me gulp.

I guess he’d cleaned up when I saw him on Olympus, or used magic to

make his form seem a little less hideous. Here in his own workshop, he

apparently didn’t care how he looked. He work a jumpsuit smeared with oil

and grime. Hephaestus, was embroidered over the chest pocket. His leg

creaked and clicked in its metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder was

lower than his right, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing

up straight. His head was misshapen and bulging. He wore a permanent

scowl. His black beard smoked and hissed. Every once in a while a small

wildfire would erupt in his whiskers then die out. His hands were the size of

catcher’s mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He

disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.

“There,” he muttered to himself. “Much better.”

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling,

and went swinging away.

Hephaestus glowered up at us. “I didn’t make you, did I?”

“Uh,” Annabeth said, “no, sir.”

“Good,” the god grumbled. “Shoddy workmanship.”

He studied Annabeth and me. “Half-bloods,” he grunted. “Could be

automatons, of course, but probably not.”

“We’ve met, sir,” I told him.

“Have we?” the god asked absently. I got the feeling he didn’t care one

way or the other. he was just trying to figure out how my jaw worked,

whether it was a hinge or a lever or what. “Well then, if I didn’t smash you

to a pulp the first time we met, I suppose I won’t have to do it now.”

He looked at Grover and frowned. “Satyr.” Then he looked at Tyson, and

his eyes twinkled. “Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing

traveling with this lot?”

“Uh…” said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god.

“Yes, well said,” Hephaestus agreed. “So, there’d better be a good reason

you’re disturbing me. The suspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you

know.”

“Sir,” Annabeth said hesitantly, “we’re looking for Daedalus. We

thought—”

“Daedalus?” the god roared. “You want that old scoundrel? You dare to

seek him out!”

His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

“Uh, yes, sir, please,” Annabeth said.

“Humph. You’re wasting your time.” He frowned at something on his

worktable and limped over to it. He picked up a lump of springs and metal

plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he was holding a bronze and

silver falcon. It spread its metal wings, blinked its obsidian eyes, and flew

around the room.

Tyson laughed and clapped his hands. The bird landed on Tyson’s

shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.

Hephaestus regarded him. The god’s scowl didn’t change, but I thought I

saw a kinder twinkle in his eyes. “I sense you have something to tell me,

Cyclops.”

Tyson’s smile faded. “Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One.”

Hephaestus nodded, looking unsurprised. “Briares?”

“Yes. He—he was scared. He would not help us.”

“And that bothered you.”

“Yes!” Tyson’s voice wavered. “Briares should be strong! He is older and

greater than Cyclopes. But he ran away.”

Hephaestus grunted. “There was a time I admired the Hundred-Handed

Ones. Back in the days of the first war. But people, monsters, even gods

change, young Cyclops. You can’t trust ’em. Look at my loving mother,

Hera. You met her, didn’t you? She’ll smile to your face and talk about how

important family is, eh? Didn’t stop her from pitching me off Mount

Olympus when she saw my ugly face.”

“But I thought Zeus did that to you,” I said.

Hephaestus cleared his throat and spat into a bronze spittoon. He snapped

his fingers, and the robotic falcon flew back to the worktable.

“Mother likes telling that version of the story,” he grumbled. “Makes her

seem more likeable, doesn’t it? Blaming it all on my dad. The truth is, my

mother likes families, but she likes a certain kind of family. Perfect families.

She took one look at me and…well, I don’t fit the image, do I?”

He pulled a feather from the falcon’s back, and the whole automaton fell

apart.

“Believe me, young Cyclops,” Hephaestus said, “you can’t trust others.

All you can trust is the work of your own hands.”

It seemed like a pretty lonely way to live. Plus, I didn’t exactly trust the

work of Hephaestus. One time in Denver, his mechanical spiders had almost

killed Annabeth and me. And last year, it had been a defective Talos statue

that cost Bianca her life—another one of Hephaestus’s little projects.

He focused on me and narrowed his eyes, as if he were reading my

thoughts. “Oh, this one doesn’t like me,” he mused. “No worries, I’m used

to that. What would you ask of me, little demigod?”

“We told you,” I said. “We need to find Daedalus. There’s this guy, Luke,

and he’s working for Kronos. He’s trying to find a way to navigate the

Labyrinth so he can invade our camp. If we don’t get to Daedalus first—”

“And I told you, boy. Looking for Daedalus is a waste of time. He won’t

help you.”

“Why not?”

Hephaestus shrugged. “Some of us get thrown off mountainsides. Some

of us…the way we learn not to trust people is more painful. Ask me for gold.

Or a flaming sword. Or a magical steed. These I can grant you easily. But a

way to Daedalus? That’s an expensive favor.”

“You know where he is, then,” Annabeth pressed.

“It isn’t wise to go looking, girl.”

“My mother says looking is the nature of wisdom.”

Hephaestus narrowed his eyes. “Who’s your mother, then?”

“Athena.”

“Figures.” He sighed. “Fine goddess, Athena. A shame she pledged never

to marry. All right, half-blood. I can tell you what you want to know. But

there is a price. I need a favor done.

“Name it,” Annabeth said.

Hephaestus actually laughed—a booming sound like a huge bellows

stoking a fire. “You heroes,” he said, “always making rash promises. How

refreshing!”

He pressed a button on his workbench, and metal shutters opened along

the wall. It was either a huge window or a big-screen TV, I couldn’t tell

which. We were looking at a gray mountain ringed in forests. It must’ve

been a volcano, because smoke rose from its crest.

“One of my forges,” Hephaestus said. “I have many, but that used to be

my favorite.”

“That’s Mount St. Helens,” Grover said. “Great forests around there.”

“You’ve been there?” I asked.

“Looking for…you know, Pan.”

“Wait,” Annabeth said, looking at Hephaestus. “You said it used to be

your favorite. What happened?”

Hephaestus scratched his smoldering beard. “Well, that’s where the

monster Typhon is trapped, you know. Used to be under Mount Etna, but

when we moved to America, his force got pinned under Mount St. Helens

instead. Great source of fire, but a bit dangerous. There’s always a chance he

will escape. Lots of eruptions these days, smoldering all the time. He’s

restless with the Titan rebellion.”

“What do you want us to do?” I said, “Fight him?”

Hephaestus snorted. “That would be suicide. The gods themselves ran

from Typhon when he was free. No, pray you never have to see him, much

less fight him. But lately I have sensed intruders in my mountain. Someone

or something is using my forges. When I go there, it is empty, but I can tell

it is being used. They sense me coming, and they disappear. I send my

automatons to investigate, but they do not return. Something…ancient is

there. Evil. I want to know who dates invade my territory, and if they mean

to loose Typhon.”

“You want us to find out who it is,” I said.

“Aye,” Hephaestus said. “Go there. They may not sense you coming. You

are not gods.”

“Glad you noticed,” I muttered.

“Go and find out what you can,” Hephaestus said. “Report back to me,

and I will tell you what you need to know about Daedalus.”

“All right,” Annabeth said. “How do we get there?”

Hephaestus clapped his hands. The spider came swinging down from the

rafters. Annabeth flinched when it landed at her feet.

“My creation will show you the way,” Hephaestus said. “It is not far

through the Labyrinth. And try to stay alive, will you? Humans are much

more fragile than automatons.”

* * *

We were doing okay until we hit the tree roots. The spider raced along

and we were keeping up, but then we spotted a tunnel off to the side that was

dug from raw earth, and wrapped in thick roots. Grover stopped dead in his

tracks.

“What is it?” I said.

He didn’t move. He stared openmouthed into the dark tunnel. His curly

hair rustled in the breeze.

“Come on!” Annabeth said. “We have to keep moving.”

“This is the way,” Grover muttered in awe. “This is it.”

“What way?” I asked. “You mean…to Pan?”

Grover looked at Tyson. “Don’t you smell it?”

“Dirt,” Tyson said. “And plants.”

“Yes! This is the way. I’m sure of it!”

Up ahead, the spider was getting farther down the stone corridor. A few

more seconds and we’d lose it.

“Well come back,” Annabeth promised. “On our way back to

Hephaestus.”

“The tunnel will be gone by then,” Grover said. “I have to follow it. A

door like this won’t stay open!”

“But we can’t,” Annabeth said. “The forges!”

Grover looked at her sadly. “I have to, Annabeth. Don’t you understand?”

She looked desperate, like she didn’t understand at all. The spider was

almost out of sight. But I thought about my conversation with Grover last

night, and I knew what we had to do.

“We’ll split up,” I said.

“No!” Annabeth said. “That’s way too dangerous. How will we ever find

each other again? And Grover can’t go alone.”

Tyson put his hand on Grover’s shoulder. “I—I will go with him.”

I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. “Tyson, are you sure?”

The big guy nodded. “Goat boy needs help. We will find the god person. I

am not like Hephaestus. I trust friends.”

Grover took a deep breath. “Percy, we’ll find each other again. We’ve still

got the empathy link. I just…have to.”

I didn’t blame him. This was his life’s goal. If he didn’t find Pan on this

journey, the council would never give him another chance.

“I hope you’re right,” I said.

“I know I am.” I’d never heard him sound so confident about anything,

except maybe that cheese enchiladas were better than chicken enchiladas.

“Be careful,” I told him. Then I looked at Tyson. He gulped back a sob

and gave me a hug that just about squeezed my eyes out of their sockets.

Then he and Grover disappeared through the tunnel of tree roots and were

lost in the darkness.

“This is bad,” Annabeth said. “Splitting up is a really, really bad idea.”

“We’ll see them again,” I said, trying to sound confident. “Now come on.

The spider is getting away!”

* * *

It wasn’t long before the tunnel started to get hot.

The stone walls glowed. The air felt as if we were walking through an

oven. The tunnel sloped down and I could hear a loud roar, like a river of

metal. The spider skittered along, with Annabeth right behind.

“Hey, wait up,” I called to her.

She glanced back at me. “Yeah?”

“Something Hephaestus said back there…about Athena.”

“She swore never to marry,” Annabeth said. “Like Artemis and Hestia.

She’s one of the maiden goddesses.”

I blinked. I’d never heard that about Athena before. “But then—”

“How come she has demigod children?”

I nodded. I was probably blushing, but hopefully it was so hot anyway

that Annabeth didn’t notice.

“Percy, you know how Athena was born?”

“She sprung from the head of Zeus in full battle armor or something.”

“Exactly. She wasn’t born in the normal way. She was literally born from

thoughts. Her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love

with a mortal man, it’s purely intellectual, the way she loved Odysseus in the

old stories. It’s a meeting of minds. She would tell you that’s the purest kind

of love.”

“So your dad and Athena…so you weren’t…”

“I was a brain child,” Annabeth said. “Literally. Children of Athena are

sprung from the divine thoughts of our mother and the mortal ingenuity of

our father. We are supposed to be a gift, a blessing from Athena on the men

she favors.”

“But—”

“Percy, the spider’s getting away. Do you really want me to explain the

exact details of how I was born?”

“Um…no. That’s okay.”

She smirked. “I thought not.” And she ran ahead. I followed, but I wasn’t

sure I would ever look at Annabeth the same way again. I decided some

things were better left as mysteries.

The roaring got louder. After another half mile or so, we emerged in a

cavern the size of a Super Bowl stadium. Our spider escort stopped and

curled into a ball. We had arrived at the forge of Hephaestus.

There was no floor, just bubbling lava hundreds of feet below. We stood

on a rock ridge that circled the cavern. A network of metal bridges spanned

across it. At the center was a huge platform with all sorts of machines,

cauldrons, forges, and the largest anvil I’d ever seen—a block of iron the

size of a house. Creatures moved around the platform—several strange, dark

shapes, but they were too far away to make out details.

Annabeth picked up the metal spider and slipped it into her pocket. “I can.

Wait here.”

“Hold it!” I said, but before I could argue, she put on her Yankees cap and

turned invisible.

I didn’t dare call after her, but I didn’t like the idea of her approaching the

forge on her own. If those things out there could sense a god coming, would

Annabeth be safe?

I looked back at the Labyrinth tunnel. I missed Grover and Tyson already.

Finally I decided I couldn’t stay put. I crept along the outer rim of the lava

lake, hoping I could get a better angle to see what was happening in the

middle.

The heat was horrible. Geryon’s ranch had been a winter wonderland

compared to this. In no time I was drenched with sweat. My eyes stung from

the smoke. I moved along, trying to keep away from the edge, until I found

my way blocked by a cart on metal wheels, like the kind they sue in mine

shafts. I lifted up the tarp and found it was half full of scrap metal. I was

about to squeeze my way around it when I heard voices from up ahead,

probably from a side tunnel.

“Bring it in?” one asked.

“Yeah,” another said. “Movie’s just about done.”

I panicked. I didn’t have time to back up. There was nowhere to hide

except…the cart. I scrambled inside and pulled the tarp over me, hoping no

one had seen me. I curled my fingers around Riptide, just in case I had to

fight.

The cart lurched forward.

“Oi,” a gruff voice said. “Thing weighs a ton.”

“It’s celestial bronze,” the other said. “What did you expect?”

I got pulled along. We turned a corner, and from the sound of the wheels

echoing against the walls I guessed we had passed down a tunnel and into a

smaller room. Hopefully I was not about to be dumped into a smelting pot. If

they started to tip me over, I’d have to fight my way out quick. I heard lots

of talking, chattering voices that didn’t sound human—somewhere between

a seal’s bark and a dog’s growl. There were other sounds too—like an oldfashioned

film projector and a tinny voice narrating.

“Just set it in the back,” a new voice ordered from across the room. “Now,

younglings, please attend to the film. There will be time for questions

afterward.”

The voices quieted down, and I could hear the film.

As a young sea demon matures, the narrator said, changes happen in the

monster’s body. You may notice your fangs getting longer and you may have

a sudden desire to devour human beings. These changes are perfectly

normal and happen to all young monsters.

Excited snarling filled the room. The teacher—I guess it must have been a

teacher—told the younglings to be quiet, and the film continued. I didn’t

understand most of it, and I didn’t dare look. The film kept talking about

growth spurts and acne problems caused by working in the forges, and

proper flipper hygiene, and finally it was over.

“Now, younglings,” the instructor said, “what is the proper name of our

kind?”

“Sea demons!” one of them barked.

“No. Anyone else?”

“Telekhines!” another monster growled.

“Very good,” the instructor said. “And why are we here?”

“Revenge!” several shouted.

“Yes, yes, but why?”

“Zeus is evil!” one monster said. “He cast us into Tartarus just because we

used magic!”

“Indeed,” the instructor said. “After we made so many of the gods’ finest

weapons. The trident of Poseidon, for one. And of course—we made the

greatest weapon of the Titans! Nevertheless, Zeus cast us away and relied on

those fumbling Cyclopes. That is why we are taking over the forges of the

usurper Hephaestus. And soon we will control the undersea furnaces, our

ancestral home!”

I clutched my pen-sword. These snarling things had created Poseidon’s

trident? What were they talking about? I’d never even heard of a telekhine.

“And so, younglings,” the instructor continued, “who do we serve?”

“Kronos!” they shouted.

“And when you grow to be big telekhines, will you make weapons for the

army?”

“Yes!”

“Excellent. Now, we’ve brought in some scraps for you to practice with.

Let’s see how ingenious you are.”

There was a rush of movement and excited voices coming toward the cart.

I got ready to uncap Riptide. The tarp was thrown back. I jumped up, my

bronze sword springing to life in my hands, and found myself facing a bunch

of…dogs.

Well, their faces were dogs, anyway, with black snouts, brown eyes, and

pointy ears. Their bodies were sleek and black like sea mammals, with

stubby legs that were half flipper, half foot, and humanlike hands with sharp

claws. If you blended together a kid, a Doberman pinscher, and a sea lion,

you’d get something like what I was looking at.

“A demigod!” one snarled.

“Eat it!” yelled another.

But that’s as far as they got before I slashed a wide arc with Riptide and

vaporized the entire front row of monsters.

“Back off!” I yelled at the rest, trying to sound fierce. Behind them stood

their instructor—a six-foot-tall telekhine with Doberman fangs snarling at

me. I did my best to stare him down.

“New lesson, class,” I announced. “Most monsters will vaporize when

sliced with a celestial bronze sword. This change is perfectly normal, and

will happen to you right now if you don’t BACK OFF!”

To my surprise, it worked. The monsters backed up, but there were at

least twenty of them. My fear factor wasn’t going to last long.

I jumped out of the cart, yelled, “CLASS DISMISSED!” and ran for the

exit.

The monsters charged after me, barking and growling. I hoped they

couldn’t run very fast with those stubby little legs and flippers, but they

waddled along pretty well. Thank the gods there was a door in the tunnel

leading out to the main cavern. I slammed it shut and turned the wheel

handle to lock it, but I doubted it would keep them long.

I didn’t know what to do. Annabeth was out here somewhere, invisible.

Our chance for a subtle reconnaissance mission had been blown. I ran

toward the platform at the center of the lava lake.

* * *

“Annabeth!” I yelled.

“Shhh!” an invisible hand clamped over my mouth and wrestled me down

behind a big bronze cauldron. “You want to get us killed?”

I found her head and took off her Yankees cap. She shimmered into

existence in front of me, scowling, her face streaked with ash and grime.

“Percy, what is your problem?”

“We’re going to have company!” I explained quickly about the monster

orientation class. Her eyes widened.

“So that’s what they are,” she said. “Telekhines. I should’ve known. And

they’re making…Well, look.”

We peeked over the cauldron. In the center of the platform stood four sea

demons, but these were fully grown, at least eight feet tall. Their black skin

glistened in the firelight as they worked, sparks flying as they took turns

hammering on a long piece of glowing hot metal.

“The blade is almost complete,” one said. “It needs another cooling in

blood to fuse the metals.”

“Aye,” a second said. “It shall be even sharper than before.”

“What is that?” I whispered.

Annabeth shook her head. “They keep talking about fusing metals. I

wonder—”

“They were talking about the greatest Titan weapon,” I said. “And

they…they said they made my father’s trident.”

“The telekhines betrayed the gods,” Annabeth said. “They were practicing

dark magic. I don’t know what, exactly, but Zeus banished them to

Tartarus.”

“With Kronos.”

She nodded. “We have to get out—”

No sooner had she said that than the door to the classroom exploded and

young telekhines came pouring out. They stumbled over each other, trying to

figure out which way to charge.

“Put your cap back on,” I said. “Get out!”

“What?” Annabeth shrieked. “No! I’m not leaving you.”

“I’ve got a plan. I’ll distract them. You can use the metal spider—maybe

it’ll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what’s going on.”

“But you’ll be killed!”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, we’ve got no choice.”

Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me. And then she did

something that surprised me even more. She kissed me.

“Be careful, Seaweed Brain.” She put on her hat and vanished.

I probably would’ve sat there for the rest of the day, staring at the lava

and trying to remember what my name was, but the sea demons jarred me

back to reality.

“There!” one yelled. The entire class of telekhines charged across the

bridge toward me. I ran for the middle of the platform, surprising the four

elder sea demons so much they dropped the red-hot blade. It was about six

feet long and curved like a crescent moon. I’d seen a lot of terrifying things,

but this unfinished whatever-it-was scared me worse.

The elder demons got over their surprise quickly. There were four ramps

leading off the platform, and before I could dash in any direction, each of

them had covered an exit.

The tallest one snarled. “What do we have here? A son of Poseidon?”

“Yes,” another growled. “I can smell the sea in his blood.”

I raised Riptide. My heart was pounding.

“Strike down one of us, demigod,” the third demon said, “and the rest of

us shall tear you to shreds. Your father betrayed us. He took our gift and said

nothing as we were cast into the pit. We will see him sliced to pieces. He and

all the other Olympians.”

I wished I had a plan. I wished I hadn’t been lying to Annabeth. I’d

wanted her to get out safely, and I hoped she’d been sensible enough to do it.

But now it was dawning on me that this might be the place I would die. No

prophecies for me. I would get overrun in the heart of a volcano by a pack of

dog-faced sea-lion people. The young telekhines were at the platform now,

too, snarling and waiting to see how their four elders would deal with me.

I felt something burning against the side of my leg. The ice whistle in my

pocket was getting colder. If I ever needed help, now was the time. But I

hesitated. I didn’t trust Quintus’s gift.

Before I could make up my mind, the tallest telekhine said, “Let us see

how strong he is. Let us see how long it takes him to burn!”

He scooped some lava out of the nearest furnace. It set his fingers ablaze,

but this didn’t seem to bother him at all. The other elder telekhines did the

same. The first one threw a glop of molten rock at me and set my pants on

fire. Two more splattered across my chest. I dropped my sword in sheer

terror and swatted at my clothes. Fire was engulfing me. Strangely, it felt

only warm at first, but it was getting hotter by the instant.

“Your father’s nature protects you,” one said. “Makes you hard to burn.

But not impossible, youngling. Not impossible.”

They threw more lava at me, and I remember screaming. My whole body

was on fire. The pain was worse than anything I’d ever felt. I was being

consumed. I crumpled to the metal floor and heard the sea demon children

howling in delight.

Then I remembered the voice of the river naiad at the ranch: The water is

within me.

I needed the sea. I felt a tugging sensation in my gut, but I had nothing

around to help me. Not a faucet or a river. Not even a petrified seashell this

time. And besides, the last time I’d unleashed my power at the stables,

there’d been that scary moment when it had almost gotten away from me.

I had no choice. I called to the sea. I reached inside myself and

remembered the waves and the currents, the endless power of the ocean.

And I let it loose in one horrible scream.

Afterward, I could never describe what happened. An explosion, a tidal

wave, a whirlwind of power simultaneously catching me up and blasting me

downward into the lava. Fire and water collided, superheated steam, and I

shot upward from the heart of the volcano in a huge explosion, just one piece

of flotsam thrown free by a million pounds of pressure. The last thing I

remember before losing conscious was flying, flying so high Zeus would

never have forgiven me, and then beginning to fall, smoke and fire and water

streaming from me. I was a comet hurtling toward the earth.

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