The Demigod Files (Percy Jackson and the Olympians Book 4.5)

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INDEX

1. LETTER FROM CAMP HALF-BLOOD

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Dear Young Demigod,
If you are reading this book, I can only apologize. Your life
is about to get much more dangerous.
By now, you have probably realized that you are not a mortal.
This book is meant to serve as an inside look at the world of
demigods that no regular human child would be allowed to see. As
senior scribe of Camp Half-Blood, I hope the top secret
information within will give you some tips and insights that may
keep you alive in your training.
The Demigod Files contains three of Percy Jackson’s most
dangerous adventures never before committed to paper. You will
learn how he encountered the immortal and terrible sons of Ares.
You will find out the truth about the bronze dragon, long
considered to be only a Camp Half-Blood legend. And you will
discover how Hades gained a new secret weapon, and how Percy was
forced to play an unwitting part in its creation. These stories
are not meant to terrify you, but it is important that you
realize just how perilous the life of a hero can be.
Chiron has also given me clearance to share confidential
interviews with some of our most important campers, including
Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and Grover Underwood. Please keep
in mind that these interviews were given in strictest confidence.
Share this information with any non-demigod, and you may find
Clarisse coming after you with her electric spear. Believe me,
you do not want that.
Finally, I have enclosed artwork to assist with your
orientation. You will find portraits of several characters at
Camp Half-Blood so you will recognize them when you meet them in
person. Annabeth Chase has allowed us to replicate her own camp
trunk so you can get an idea of what to pack for your first
summer. There is also a map of camp, which I hope will keep you
from getting lost and eaten by monsters.
Study these pages well, for your own adventures have only
just begun. May the gods be with you, young demigod!
Yours truly,
Rick Riordan
 








Senior Scribe, Camp Half-Blood
 

2. PERCY JACKSON AND THE STOLEN CHARIOT
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I was in fifth-period science class when I heard these noises outside.
SCRAWK! OW! SCREECH! “HIYA!”
Like somebody was getting attacked by possessed poultry, and believe
me, that’s a situation I’ve been in before. Nobody else seemed to notice the
commotion. We were doing a lab, so everybody was talking, and it wasn’t
hard for me to go look out the window while I pretended to wash out my
beaker.
Sure enough, there was a girl in the alley with her sword drawn. She was
tall and muscular like a basketball player, with stringy brown hair and jeans
and combat boots and a denim jacket. She was hacking at a flock of black
birds the size of ravens. Feathers stuck out of her clothes in several places. A
cut was bleeding over her left eye. As I watched, one of the birds shot a
feather like an arrow, and it lodged in her shoulder. She cursed and sliced at
the bird, but it flew away.
Unfortunately, I recognized the girl. It was Clarisse, my old enemy from
demigod camp. Clarisse usually lived at Camp Half-Blood year-round. I had
no idea what she was doing on the Upper East Side in the middle of a school
day, but she was obviously in trouble. She wouldn’t last much longer.
I did the only the thing I could.
“Mrs. White,” I said, “can I go to the restroom? I feel like I’m going to
puke.”
You know how teachers tell you the magic word is please? That’s not
true. The magic word is puke. It will get you out of class faster than anything
else.
“Go!” Mrs. White said.
I ran out the door, stripping off my safety goggles and gloves and lab
apron. I got out my best weapon—a ballpoint pen called Riptide.
Nobody stopped me in the halls. I exited by the gym. I got to the alley
just in time to see Clarisse smack a devil bird with the flat of her sword like
she was hitting a home run. The bird squawked and spiraled away, slamming
against the brick wall and sliding into a trash can. That still left a dozen more
swarming around her.
“Clarisse!” I yelled.
She glared at me in disbelief. “Percy? What are you doing—”
She was cut short by a volley of feather arrows that zipped over her head
and impaled themselves in the wall.
“This is my school,” I told her.
“Just my luck,” Clarisse grumbled, but she was too busy fighting to
complain much.
I uncapped my pen, which grew into a three-foot-long bronze sword, and
joined the battle, slashing at the birds and deflecting their feathers off my
blade. Together, Clarisse and I sliced and hacked until all the birds were
reduced to piles of feathers on the ground.
We were both breathing hard. I had a few scratches, but nothing major. I
pulled a feather arrow out of my arm. It hadn’t gone in very deep. As long as
it wasn’t poison, I’d be okay. I took a baggie of ambrosia out of my jacket,
where I always kept it for emergencies, broke a piece in half, and offered
some to Clarisse.
“I don’t need your help,” she muttered, but she took the ambrosia.
We swallowed a few bites—not too much, since the food of the gods can
burn you to ashes if you overindulge. I guess that’s why you don’t see many
fat gods. Anyway, in a few seconds our cuts and bruises had disappeared.
Clarisse sheathed her sword and brushed off her denim jacket. “Well . . .
see you.”
“Hold up!” I said. “You can’t just run off.”
“Sure I can.”
“What’s going on? What are you doing away from camp? Why were
those birds after you?”
Clarisse pushed me, or tried to. I was too accustomed to her tricks. I just
sidestepped and let her stumble past me.
“Come on,” I said. “You just about got killed at my school. That makes it
my business.”
“It does not!”
“Let me help.”
She took a shaky breath. I got the feeling she really wanted to punch me
out, but at the same time there was a desperate look in her eyes, like she was
in serious trouble.
“It’s my brothers,” she said. “They’re playing a prank on me.”
“Oh,” I said, not really surprised. Clarisse had lots of siblings at Camp
Half-Blood. All of them picked on each other. I guess that was to be expected
since they were sons and daughters of the war god, Ares. “Which brothers?
Sherman? Mark?”
“No,” she said, sounding more afraid than I’d ever heard her. “My
immortal brothers. Phobos and Deimos.”
We sat on a bench at the park while Clarisse told me the story. I wasn’t
too worried about getting back to school. Mrs. White would just assume the
nurse had sent me home, and sixth period was shop class. Mr. Bell never took
attendance.
“So let me get this straight,” I said. “You took your dad’s car for a
joyride, and now it’s missing.”
“It’s not a car,” Clarisse growled. “It’s a war chariot! And he told me to
take it out. It’s like . . . a test. I’m supposed to bring it back at sunset. But—”
“Your brothers carjacked you.”
“Chariot-jacked me,” she corrected. “They’re his regular charioteers,
see. And they don’t like anybody else getting to drive. So they stole the
chariot from me and chased me off with those stupid arrow-throwing birds.”
“Your dad’s pets?”
She nodded miserably. “They guard his temple. Anyway, if I don’t find
the chariot . . .”
She looked like she was about to lose it. I didn’t blame her. I’d seen her
dad, Ares, get mad before, and it was not a pretty sight. If Clarisse failed him,
he would come down hard on her. Real hard.
“I’ll help you,” I said.
She scowled. “Why would you? I’m not your friend.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Clarisse had been mean to me a million times,
but still, I didn’t like the idea of her or anybody else getting beat up by Ares. I
was trying to figure out how to explain that to her when a guy’s voice said,
“Aw, look. I think she’s been crying!”
A teenage dude was leaning against a telephone pole. He was dressed in
ratty jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket, with a bandanna over his hair.
A knife was stuck in his belt. He had eyes the color of flames.
“Phobos.” Clarisse balled her fists. “Where’s the chariot, you jerk?”
“You lost it,” he teased. “Don’t ask me.”
“You little—”
Clarisse drew her sword and charged, but Phobos disappeared as she
swung, and her blade bit into the telephone pole.
Phobos appeared on the bench next to me. He was laughing, but he
stopped when I stuck Riptide’s point against his throat.
“You’d better return that chariot,” I told him, “before I get mad.”
He sneered and tried to look tough, or as tough as you can with a sword
under your chin. “Who’s your little boyfriend, Clarisse? You have to get help
fighting your battles now?”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” Clarisse tugged her sword, pulling it out of the
telephone pole. “He’s not even my friend. That’s Percy Jackson.”
Something changed in Phobos’s expression. He looked surprised, maybe
even nervous. “The son of Poseidon? The one who made Dad angry? Oh, this
is too good, Clarisse. You’re hanging out with a sworn enemy?”
“I’m not hanging out with him!”
Phobos’s eyes glowed bright red.
Clarisse screamed. She swatted the air as if she were being attacked by
invisible bugs. “Please, no!”
“What are you doing to her?” I demanded.
Clarisse backed up into the street, swinging her sword wildly.
“Stop it!” I told Phobos. I dug my sword a little deeper against his throat,
but he simply vanished, reappearing back at the telephone pole.
“Don’t get so excited, Jackson,” Phobos said. “I’m just showing her
what she fears.”
The glow faded from his eyes.
Clarisse collapsed, breathing hard. “You creep,” she gasped. “I’ll . . . I’ll
get you.”
Phobos turned toward me. “How about you, Percy Jackson? What do you
fear? I’ll find out, you know. I always do.”
“Give the chariot back.” I tried to keep my voice even. “I took on your
dad once. You don’t scare me.”
Phobos laughed. “Nothing to fear but fear itself. Isn’t that what they say?
Well, let me tell you a little secret, half-blood. I am fear. If you want to find
the chariot, come and get it. It’s across the water. You’ll find it where the little
wild animals live—just the sort of place you belong.”
He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a curtain of yellow vapor.
Now, I’ve got to tell you, I’ve met a lot of godlings and monsters I didn’t
like, but Phobos took the prize. I don’t like bullies. I’d never been in the “A”
crowd at school, so I’d spent most of my life standing up to punks who tried
to frighten me and my friends. The way Phobos laughed at me and made
Clarisse collapse just by looking at her . . . I wanted to teach this guy a lesson.
I helped Clarisse up. Her face was still beaded with sweat.
“Now are you ready for help?” I asked.
We took the subway, keeping a lookout for more attacks, but no one
bothered us. As we rode, Clarisse told me about Phobos and Deimos.
“They’re minor gods,” she said. “Phobos is fear. Deimos is terror.”
“What’s the difference?”
She frowned. “Deimos is bigger and uglier, I guess. He’s good at
freaking out entire crowds. Phobos is more, like, personal. He can get inside
your head.”
“That’s where they get the word phobia?”
“Yeah,” she grumbled. “He’s so proud of that. All those phobias named
after him. The jerk.”
“So why don’t they want you driving the chariot?”
“It’s usually a ritual just for Ares’s sons when they turn fifteen. I’m the
first daughter to get a shot in a long time.”
“Good for you.”
“Tell that to Phobos and Deimos. They hate me. I’ve got to get the
chariot back to the temple.”
“Where is the temple?”
“Pier 86. The Intrepid.”
“Oh.” It made sense, now that I thought about it. I’d never actually been
on board the old aircraft carrier, but I knew they used it as some kind of
military museum. It probably had a bunch of guns and bombs and other
dangerous toys. Just the kind of place a war god would want to hang out.
“We’ve got maybe four hours before sunset,” I guessed. “That should be
enough time if we can find the chariot.”
“But what did Phobos mean, ‘over the water’? We’re on an island, for
Zeus’s sake. That could be any direction!”
“He said something about wild animals,” I remembered. “Little wild
animals.”
“A zoo?”
I nodded. A zoo over the water could be the one in Brooklyn, or maybe .
. . someplace harder to get to, with little wild animals. Someplace nobody
would ever think to look for a war chariot.
“Staten Island,” I said. “They’ve got a small zoo.”
“Maybe,” Clarisse said. “That sounds like the kind of out-of-the-way
place Phobos and Deimos would stash something. But if we’re wrong—”
“We don’t have time to be wrong.”
We hopped off the train at Times Square and caught the Number 1
downtown, toward the ferry terminal.
We boarded the Staten Island Ferry at three thirty, along with a bunch of
tourists, who crowded the railings of the top deck, snapping pictures as we
passed the Statue of Liberty.
“He modeled that after his mom,” I said, looking up at the statue.
Clarisse frowned at me. “Who?”
“Bartholdi,” I said. “The dude who made the Statue of Liberty. He was a
son of Athena, and he designed it to look like his mom. That’s what Annabeth
told me, anyway.”
Clarisse rolled her eyes. Annabeth was my best friend and a huge nut
when it came to architecture and monuments. I guess her egghead facts
rubbed off on me sometimes.
“Useless,” Clarisse said. “If it doesn’t help you fight, it’s useless
information.”
I could’ve argued with her, but just then the ferry lurched like it had hit a
rock. Tourists spilled forward, tumbling into each other. Clarisse and I ran to
the front of the boat. The water below us started to boil. Then the head of a
sea serpent erupted from the bay.
The monster was at least as big as the boat. It was gray and green with a
head like a crocodile and razor-sharp teeth. It smelled . . . well, like something
that had just come up from the bottom of New York Harbor. Riding on its
neck was a bulky guy in black Greek armor. His face was covered with ugly
scars, and he held a javelin in his hand.
“Deimos!” Clarisse yelled.
“Hello, sister!” His smile was almost as horrible as the serpent’s. “Care
to play?”
The monster roared. Tourists screamed and scattered. I don’t know
exactly what they saw. The Mist usually prevents mortals from seeing
monsters in their true form, but whatever they saw, they were terrified.
“Leave them alone!” I yelled.
“Or what, son of the sea god?” Deimos sneered. “My brother tells me
you’re a wimp! Besides, I love terror. I live on terror!”
He spurred the sea serpent into head-butting the ferry, which sloshed
backward. Alarms blared. Passengers fell over each other trying to get away.
Deimos laughed with delight.
“That’s it,” I grumbled. “Clarisse, grab on.”
“What?”
“Grab on to my neck. We’re going for a ride.”
She didn’t protest. She grabbed on to me, and I said, “One, two, three—
JUMP!”
We leaped off the top deck and straight into the bay, but we were only
under water for a moment. I felt the power of the ocean surging through me. I
willed the water to swirl around me, building force until we burst out of the
bay on top of a thirty-foot-high waterspout. I steered us straight toward the
monster.
“You think you can tackle Deimos?” I yelled to Clarisse.
“I’m on it!” she said. “Just get me within ten feet.”
We barreled toward the serpent. Just as it bared its fangs, I swerved the
waterspout to one side, and Clarisse jumped. She crashed into Deimos, and
both of them toppled into the sea.
The sea serpent came after me. I quickly turned the waterspout to face
him, then summoned all my power and willed the water to even greater
heights.
WHOOOOM!
Ten thousand gallons of salt water crashed into the monster. I leaped
over its head, uncapped Riptide, and slashed with all my might at the
creature’s neck. The monster roared. Green blood spouted from the wound,
and the serpent sank beneath the waves.
I dove under water and watched as it retreated back to the open sea.
That’s one good thing about sea serpents: they’re big babies when it comes to
getting hurt.
Clarisse surfaced near me, spluttering and coughing. I swam over and
grabbed her.
“Did you get Deimos?” I asked.
Clarisse shook her head. “The coward disappeared as we were wrestling.
But I’m sure we’ll see him again. Phobos, too.”
Tourists were still running around the ferry in a panic, but it didn’t look
like anybody was hurt. The boat didn’t seem damaged. I decided we shouldn’t
stick around. I held on to Clarisse’s arm and willed the waves to carry us
toward Staten Island.
In the west, the sun was going down over the Jersey shore. We were
running out of time.
I’d never spent much time on Staten Island, and I found it was a lot
bigger than I thought and not much fun to walk. The streets curved around
confusingly, and everything seemed to be uphill. I was dry (I never got wet in
the ocean unless I wanted to) but Clarisse’s clothes were still sopping wet, so
she left mucky footprints all over the sidewalk, and the bus driver wouldn’t
let us on the bus.
“We’ll never make it in time,” she sighed.
“Stop thinking that way.” I tried to sound upbeat, but I was starting to
have doubts too. I wished we had reinforcements. Two demigods against two
minor gods was not an even match, and when we met Phobos and Deimos
together, I wasn’t sure what we were going to do. I kept remembering what
Phobos had said: How about you, Percy Jackson? What do you fear? I’ll find
out, you know.
After dragging ourselves halfway down the island, past a lot of suburban
houses and a couple of churches and a McDonald’s, we finally saw a sign that
said ZOO. We turned a corner and followed this curvy street with some
woods on one side until we came to the entrance.
The lady at the ticket booth looked at us suspiciously, but thank the gods
I had enough cash to get us inside.
We walked around the reptile house, and Clarisse stopped in her tracks.
“There it is.”
It was sitting at a crossroads between the petting zoo and the sea otter
pond: a large golden and red chariot tethered to four black horses. The chariot
was decorated with amazing detail. It would’ve been beautiful if all the
pictures hadn’t shown people dying painful deaths. The horses were breathing
fire out of their nostrils.
Families with strollers walked right past the chariot like it didn’t exist. I
guess the Mist must’ve been really strong around it, because the chariot’s only
camouflage was a handwritten note taped to one of the horses’ chests that said
OFFICIAL ZOO VEHICLE.
“Where are Phobos and Deimos?” Clarisse muttered, drawing her sword.
I couldn’t see them anywhere, but this had to be a trap.
I concentrated on the horses. Usually I could talk to horses, since my dad
had created them. I said, Hey. Nice fire-breathing horses. Come here!
One of horses whinnied disdainfully. I could understand his thoughts, all
right. He called me some names I can’t repeat.
“I’ll try to get the reins,” Clarisse said. “The horses know me. Cover
me.”
“Right.” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to cover her with a sword, but
I kept my eyes peeled as Clarisse approached the chariot. She walked around
the horses, almost tiptoeing.
She froze as a lady with a three-year-old girl passed by. The girl said,
“Pony on fire!”
“Don’t be silly, Jessie,” the mother said in a dazed voice.
“That’s an official zoo vehicle.”
The little girl tried to protest, but the mother grabbed her hand and they
kept walking. Clarisse got closer to the chariot. Her hand was six inches from
the rail when the horses reared up, whinnying and breathing flames. Phobos
and Deimos appeared in the chariot, both of them now dressed in pitch-black
battle armor. Phobos grinned, his red eyes glowing. Deimos’s scarred face
looked even more horrible up close.
“The hunt is on!” Phobos yelled. Clarisse stumbled back as he lashed the
horses and charged the chariot straight toward me.
Now, I’d like to tell you that I did something heroic, like stand up against
a raging team of fire-breathing horses with only my sword. The truth is, I ran.
I jumped over a trash bin and an exhibit fence, but there was no way I could
outrun the chariot. It crashed through the fence right behind me, plowing
down everything in its path.
“Percy, look out!” Clarisse yelled, like I needed somebody to tell me
that.
I jumped and landed on a rock island in the middle of the otter exhibit. I
willed a column of water out of the pond and doused the horses, temporarily
extinguishing their flames and sending them into confusion. The otters
weren’t happy with me. They chattered and barked, and I figured I’d better
get off their island quick, before I had crazed sea mammals after me too.
I ran as Phobos cursed and tried to get his horses under control. Clarisse
took the opportunity to jump on Deimos’s back just as he was lifting his
javelin. Both of them went tumbling out of the chariot as it lurched forward.
I could hear Deimos and Clarisse starting to fight, sword on sword, but I
didn’t have time to worry about it because Phobos was riding after me again. I
sprinted toward the aquarium with the chariot right behind me.
“Hey, Percy!” Phobos taunted. “I’ve got something for you!”
I glanced back and saw the chariot melting, the horses turning to steel
and folding into each other like clay figures being crumpled. The chariot
refashioned itself into a black metal box with caterpillar treads, a turret, and a
long gun barrel. A tank. I recognized it from this research report I’d had to do
for history class. Phobos was grinning at me from the top of a World War II
panzer.
“Say cheese!” he said.
I rolled to one side as the gun fired.
KA-BOOOOM! A souvenir kiosk exploded, sending fuzzy animals and
plastic cups and disposable cameras in every direction. As Phobos re-aimed
his gun, I got to my feet and dived into the aquarium.
I wanted to surround myself with water. That always increased my
power. Besides, it was possible Phobos couldn’t fit the chariot inside the
doorway. Of course, if he blasted through it, that wouldn’t help. . . .
I ran through the rooms washed in weird blue light from the fish tank
exhibits. Cuttlefish, clown fish, and eels all stared at me as I raced past. I
could hear their little minds whispering, Son of the sea god! Son of the sea
god! It’s great when you’re a celebrity to squids.
I stopped at the back of the aquarium and listened. I heard nothing. And
then . . . Vroom, Vroom. A different kind of engine.
I watched in disbelief as Phobos came riding through the aquarium on a
Harley-Davidson. I’d seen this motorcycle before: its black flame-decorated
engine, its shotgun holsters, its leather seat that looked like human skin. This
was the same motorcycle Ares had ridden when I’d first met him, but it had
never occurred to me that it was just another form of his war chariot.
“Hello, loser,” Phobos said, pulling a huge sword out of its sheath.
“Time to be scared.”
I raised my own sword, determined to face him, but then Phobos’s eyes
glowed brighter, and I made the mistake of looking into them.
Suddenly I was in a different place. I was at Camp Half-Blood, my
favorite place in the world, and it was in flames. The woods were on fire. The
cabins were smoking. The dining pavilion’s Greek columns had crumbled,
and the Big House was a smoldering ruin. My friends were on their knees
pleading with me. Annabeth, Grover, all the other campers.
Save us, Percy! they wailed. Make the choice!
I stood paralyzed. This was the moment I had always dreaded: the
prophecy that was supposed to come about when I was sixteen. I would make
a choice that would save or destroy Mount Olympus.
Now the moment was here, and I had no idea what to do. The camp was
burning. My friends looked at me, begging for help. My heart pounded. I
couldn’t move. What if I did the wrong thing?
Then I heard the voices of the aquarium fish: Son of the sea god! Wake!
Suddenly I felt the power of the ocean all around me again, hundreds of
gallons of salt water, thousands of fish trying to get my attention. I wasn’t at
camp. This was an illusion. Phobos was showing me my deepest fear.
I blinked and saw Phobos’s blade coming down toward my head. I raised
Riptide and blocked the blow just before it cut me in two.
I counterattacked and stabbed Phobos in the arm.
Golden ichor, the blood of the gods, soaked through his shirt.
Phobos growled and slashed at me. I parried easily. Without his power of
fear, Phobos was nothing. He wasn’t even a decent fighter. I pressed him
back, swiped at his face, and gave him a cut across the cheek. The angrier he
was, the clumsier he got. I couldn’t kill him. He was immortal. But you
wouldn’t have known that from his expression. The fear god looked afraid.
Finally I kicked him backward against the water fountain. His sword
skittered into the ladies room. I grabbed the straps of his armor and pulled
him up to face me.
“You’re going to disappear now,” I told him. “You’re going to stay out of
Clarisse’s way. And if I see you again, I’m going to give you a bigger scar in
a much more painful place!”
He gulped. “There will be a next time, Jackson!”
And he dissolved into yellow vapor.
I turned toward the fish exhibits. “Thanks, guys.”
Then I looked at Ares’s motorcycle. I’d never ridden an all-powerful
Harley-Davidson war chariot before, but how hard could it be? I hopped on,
started the ignition, and rode out of the aquarium to help Clarisse.
I had no trouble finding her. I just followed the path of destruction.
Fences were knocked down. Animals were running free. Badgers and lemurs
were checking out the popcorn machine. A fat-looking leopard was lounging
on a park bench with a bunch of pigeon feathers around him.
I parked the motorcycle next to the petting zoo, and there were Deimos
and Clarisse in the goat area. Clarisse was on her knees. I ran forward but
stopped suddenly when I saw how Deimos had changed form. He was Ares
now— the tall god of war, dressed in black leather and sunglasses, his whole
body smoking with anger as he raised his fist over Clarisse.
“You failed me again!” the war god bellowed. “I told you what would
happen!”
He tried to strike her, but Clarisse scrambled away, shrieking, “No!
Please!”
“Foolish girl!”
“Clarisse!” I yelled. “It’s an illusion. Stand up to him!”
Deimos’s form flickered. “I am Ares!” he insisted. “And you are a
worthless girl! I knew you would fail me. Now you will suffer my wrath.”
I wanted to charge in and fight Deimos, but somehow I knew it wouldn’t
help. Clarisse had to do it. This was her worst fear. She had to overcome it for
herself.
“Clarisse!” I said. She glanced over, and I tried to hold her eyes. “Stand
up to him!” I said. “He’s all talk. Get up!”
“I . . . I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You’re a warrior. Get up!”
She hesitated. Then she began to stand.
“What are you doing?” Ares bellowed. “Grovel for mercy, girl!”
Clarisse took a shaky breath. Very quietly, she said, “No.”
“WHAT?”
She raised her sword. “I’m tired of being scared of you.”
Deimos struck, but Clarisse deflected the blow. She staggered but didn’t
fall.
“You’re not Ares,” Clarisse said. “You’re not even a good fighter.”
Deimos growled in frustration. When he struck again, Clarisse was
ready. She disarmed him and stabbed him in the shoulder—not deep, but
enough to hurt even a godling.
He yowled in pain and began to glow.
“Look away!” I told Clarisse.
We averted our eyes as Deimos exploded into golden light—his true
godly form—and disappeared.
We were alone except for the petting zoo goats, which were tugging at
our clothes, looking for snacks.
The motorcycle had turned back into a horse-drawn chariot.
Clarisse looked at me cautiously. She wiped the straw and sweat off her
face. “You didn’t see that. You didn’t see any of that.”
I grinned. “You did good.”
She glanced at the sky, which was turning red behind the trees.
“Get in the chariot,” Clarisse said. “We’ve still got a long ride to make.”
A few minutes later we reached the Staten Island Ferry and remembered
something obvious: we were on an island. The ferry didn’t take cars. Or
chariots. Or motorcycles.
“Great,” Clarisse mumbled. “What do we do now? Ride this thing across
the Verrazano Bridge?”
We both knew there wasn’t time. There were bridges to Brooklyn and
New Jersey, but either way it would take hours to drive the chariot back to
Manhattan, even if we could fool people into thinking it was a regular car.
Then I got an idea. “We’ll take the direct route.”
Clarisse frowned. “What do you mean?”
I closed my eyes and began to concentrate. “Drive straight ahead. Go!”
Clarisse was so desperate she didn’t hesitate. She yelled, “Hiya!” and
lashed the horses. They charged straight toward the water. I imagined the sea
turning solid, the waves becoming a firm surface all the way to Manhattan.
The war chariot hit the surf, the horses’ fiery breath smoking all around us,
and we rode the tops of the waves straight across New York Harbor.
We arrived at Pier 86 just as the sunset was fading to purple. The USS
Intrepid, temple of Ares, was a huge wall of gray metal in front of us, the
flight deck dotted with fighter aircraft and helicopters. We parked the chariot
on the ramp, and I jumped out. For once I was glad to be on dry land.
Concentrating on keeping the chariot above the waves had been one of the
hardest things I’d ever done. I was exhausted.
“I’d better get out of here before Ares arrives,” I said.
Clarisse nodded. “He’d probably kill you on sight.”
“Congratulations,” I said. “I guess you passed your driving test.”
She wrapped the reins around her hand. “About what you saw, Percy.
What I was afraid of, I mean—”
“I won’t tell anybody.”
She looked at me uncomfortably. “Did Phobos scare you?”
“Yeah. I saw the camp in flames. I saw my friends all pleading for my
help, and I didn’t know what to do. For a second, I couldn’t move. I was
paralyzed. I know how you felt.”
She lowered her eyes. “I, uh . . . I guess I should say. . .”
The words seemed to stick in her throat. I wasn’t sure Clarisse had ever
said thank you in her life. “Don’t mention it,” I told her. I started to walk
away, but she called out, “Percy?” “Yeah?” “When you, uh, had that vision
about your friends . . .” “You were one of them,” I promised. “Just don’t tell
anybody, okay? Or I’d have to kill you.” A faint smile flickered across her
face. “See you later.” “See you.” I headed off toward the subway. It had been
a long day, and I was ready to get home.
3. PERCY JACKSON AND THE BRONZE DRAGON
Click here to go to Index 



One dragon can ruin your whole day.
Trust me, as a demigod I’ve had my share of bad experiences. I’ve been
snapped at, clawed at, blowtorched, and poisoned. I’ve fought single-headed
dragons, double-headed, eight-headed, nine-headed, and the kind with so
many heads that if you stopped to count them you’d be pretty much dead.
But that time with the bronze dragon? I thought for sure my friends and I
were going to end up as Kibbles ’n’ Dragon Bits.
The evening started simply enough.
It was the end of June. I’d come back from my most recent quest about
two weeks before, and life at Camp Half-Blood was returning to normal.
Satyrs were chasing the dryads. Monsters howled in the woods. The campers
were playing pranks on one another, and our camp director, Dionysus, was
turning anyone who misbehaved into a shrub. Typical summer-camp stuff.
After dinner, all the campers were hanging out at the dining pavilion. We
were all excited because that evening Capture the Flag was going to be totally
vicious.
The night before, Hephaestus’s cabin had pulled off a huge upset. They’d
captured the flag from Ares—with my help, thank you very much—which
meant that the Ares cabin would be out for blood. Well . . . they’re always out
for blood, but this night especially.
On the blue team were Hephaestus’s cabin, Apollo, Hermes, and me—
the only demigod in Poseidon’s cabin. The bad news was that for once,
Athena and Ares—both war god cabins—were against us on the red team,
along with Aphrodite, Dionysus, and Demeter. Athena’s cabin held the other
flag, and my friend Annabeth was their captain.
Annabeth is not somebody you want as an enemy.
Right before the game, she strolled up to me. “Hey, Seaweed Brain.”
“Will you stop calling me that?”
She knows I hate that name, mostly because I never have a good
comeback. She’s the daughter of Athena, which doesn’t give me a lot of
ammunition. I mean, “Owl-head” and “Wise Girl” are kind of lame insults.
“You know you love it.” She bumped me with her shoulder, which I
guess was supposed to be friendly, but she was wearing full Greek armor, so it
kind of hurt. Her gray eyes sparkled under her helmet. Her blond ponytail
curled around one shoulder. It was hard for anyone to look cute in combat
armor, but Annabeth pulled it off.
“Tell you what.” She lowered her voice. “We’re going to crush you
tonight, but if you pick a safe position . . . like right flank, for instance . . . I’ll
make sure you don’t get pulverized too much.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, “but I’m playing to win.”
She smiled. “See you on the battlefield.”
She jogged back to her teammates, who all laughed and gave her high
fives. I’d never seen her so happy, like the chance to beat me up was the best
thing that had ever happened to her.
Beckendorf walked up with his helmet under his arm. “She likes you,
man.”
“Sure,” I muttered. “She likes me for target practice.”
“Nah, they always do that. A girl starts trying to kill you, you know she’s
into you.”
“Makes a lot of sense.”
Beckendorf shrugged. “I know about these things. You ought to ask her
to the fireworks.”
I couldn’t tell if he was serious. Beckendorf was lead counselor for
Hephaestus. He was this huge dude with a permanent scowl, muscles like a
pro ballplayer, and hands calloused from working in the forges. He’d just
turned eighteen and was on his way to NYU in the fall. Since he was older, I
usually listened to him about stuff, but the idea of asking Annabeth to the
Fourth of July fireworks down at the beach—like, the biggest dating event of
the summer—made my stomach do somersaults.
Then Silena Beauregard, the head counselor for Aphrodite, passed by.
Beckendorf had had a not-so-secret crush on her for three years. She had long
black hair and big brown eyes, and when she walked, the guys tended to
watch. She said, “Good luck, Charlie.” (Nobody ever calls Beckendorf by his
first name.) She flashed him a brilliant smile and went to join Annabeth on
the red team.
“Uh . . .” Beckendorf swallowed like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for the advice, dude. Glad you’re
so wise about girls and all. Come on. Let’s get to the woods.”
Naturally, Beckendorf and I took the most dangerous job.
While the Apollo cabin played defense with their bows, the Hermes
cabin would charge up the middle of the woods to distract the enemy.
Meanwhile, Beckendorf and I would scout around the left flank, locate the
enemy’s flag, knock out the defenders, and get the flag back to our side.
Simple.
Why the left flank?
“Because Annabeth wanted me to go right,” I told Beckendorf, “which
means she doesn’t want us to go left.”
Beckendorf nodded. “Let’s suit up.”
He’d been working on a secret weapon for the two of us—bronze
chameleon armor, enchanted to blend into the background. If we stood in
front of rocks, our breastplates, helms, and shields turned gray. If we stood in
front of bushes, the metal changed to a leafy green. It wasn’t true invisibility,
but we’d have pretty good cover, at least from a distance.
“This stuff took forever to forge,” Beckendorf warned me. “Don’t mess
it up!”
“You got it, Captain.”
Beckendorf grunted. I could tell he liked being called “captain.”The rest
of the Hephaestus campers wished us well, and we sneaked off into the
woods, immediately turning brown and green to match the trees.
We crossed the creek that served as the boundary between the teams. We
heard fighting in the distance— swords clashing against shields. I glimpsed a
flash of light from some magical weapon, but we saw no one.
“No border guards?” Beckendorf whispered. “Weird.”
“Overconfident,” I guessed. But I felt uneasy. Annabeth was a great
strategist. It wasn’t like her to get sloppy on defense, even if her team did
outnumber us.
We moved into enemy territory. I knew we had to hurry, because our
team was playing a defensive game, and that couldn’t last forever. The Apollo
kids would get overrun sooner or later. The Ares cabin wouldn’t be slowed
down by a little thing like arrows.
We crept along the base of an oak tree. I almost jumped out of my skin
when a girl’s face emerged from the trunk. “Shoo!” she said, then faded back
into the bark.
“Dryads,” Beckendorf grumbled. “So touchy.”
“Am not!” a muffled voice said from the tree.
We kept moving. It was hard to tell exactly where we were. Some
landmarks stood out, like the creek and certain cliffs and some really old
trees, but the woods tended to shift around. I guess the nature spirits got
restless. Paths changed. Trees moved.
Then suddenly we were at the edge of a clearing. I knew we were in
trouble when I saw the mountain of dirt.
“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf whispered. “The Ant Hill.”
I wanted to back up and run. I’d never seen the Ant Hill before, but I’d
heard stories from the older campers. The mound rose almost to the treetops
—four stories at least. Its sides were riddled with tunnels, and crawling in and
out were thousands of . . .
“Myrmekes,” I muttered.
That’s Ancient Greek for “ants,” but these things were way more than
that. They would’ve given any exterminator a heart attack.
The Myrmekes were the size of German shepherds. Their armored shells
glistened bloodred. Their eyes were beady black, and their razor-sharp
mandibles sliced and snapped. Some carried tree branches. Some carried
chunks of raw meat that I really didn’t want to know about. Most carried bits
of metal—old armor, swords, food platters that had somehow found their way
out here from the dining pavilion. One ant was dragging the glossy black
hood of a sports car.
“They love shiny metal,” Beckendorf whispered. “Especially gold. I’ve
heard they have more gold in their nest than Fort Knox.” He sounded envious.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said.
“Dude, I won’t,” he promised. “Let’s get out of here while we . . .”
His eyes widened.
Fifty feet away, two ants were struggling to drag a big hunk of metal
toward their nest. It was the size of a refrigerator, all glittery gold and bronze,
with weird bumps and ridges down the side and a bunch of wires sticking out
the bottom. Then the ants rolled the thing over, and I saw a face.
I just about jumped out of my skin. “That’s a—”
“Shhh!” Beckendorf pulled me back into the bushes.
“But that’s a—”
“Dragon’s head,” he said in awe. “Yes. I see it.”
The snout was as long as my body. The mouth hung open, showing metal
teeth, like a shark’s. Its skin was a combination of gold and bronze scales, and
its eyes were rubies as big as my fists. The head looked like it had been
hacked from its body—chewed by ant mandibles. The wires were frayed and
tangled.
The head must’ve been heavy, too, because the ants were struggling,
moving it only a few inches with every tug.
“If they get it to the hill,” Beckendorf said, “the other ants will help
them. We’ve got to stop them.”
“What?” I asked. “Why?”
“It’s a sign from Hephaestus. Come on!”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I’d never seen Beckendorf
look so determined. He sprinted along the edge of the clearing, his armor
blending into the trees.
I was about to follow when something sharp and cold pressed against my
neck.
“Surprise,” Annabeth said, right next me. She must’ve had her magic
Yankees cap on, because she was totally invisible.
I tried to move, but she dug her knife under my chin. Silena appeared out
of the woods, her sword drawn. Her Aphrodite armor was pink and red, color
coordinated to match her clothes and makeup. She looked like Guerilla
Warfare Barbie.
“Nice work,” she told Annabeth.
An invisible hand confiscated my sword. Annabeth took off her cap and
appeared before me, smiling smugly. “Boys are easy to follow. They make
more noise than a lovesick Minotaur.”
My face felt hot. I tried to think back, hoping I hadn’t said anything
embarrassing. No telling how long Annabeth and Silena had been
eavesdropping.
“You’re our prisoner,” Annabeth announced. “Let’s get Beckendorf and
—”
“Beckendorf!” For a split second I’d forgotten about him, but he was still
forging ahead—straight toward the dragon’s head. He was already forty feet
away. He hadn’t noticed the girls, or the fact that I wasn’t behind him.
“Come on!” I told Annabeth.
She pulled me back. “Where do you think you’re going, prisoner?”
“Look!”
She peered into the clearing and for the first time seemed to realize
where we were. “Oh, Zeus . . .”
Beckendorf leaped into the open and struck one of the ants. His sword
clanged off the thing’s carapace. The ant turned, snapping its pincers. Before I
could even call out, the ant bit Beckendorf’s leg, and he crumpled to the
ground. The second ant sprayed goo in his face, and Beckendorf screamed.
He dropped his sword and slapped wildly at his own eyes.
I surged forward, but Annabeth pulled me back. “No.”
“Charlie!” Silena yelled.
“Don’t!” Annabeth hissed. “It’s already too late!”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “We have to—”
Then I noticed more ants swarming toward Beckendorf—ten, twenty.
They grabbed him by the armor and dragged him toward the hill so fast he
was swept into a tunnel and gone.
“No!” Silena pushed Annabeth. “You let them take Charlie!”
“There’s no time to argue,” Annabeth said. “Come on!”
I thought she was going to lead us on a charge to save Beckendorf, but
instead she raced to the dragon’s head, which the ants had momentarily
forgotten. She grabbed it by the wires and started dragging it toward the
woods.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Beckendorf—” “Help me,”
Annabeth grunted. “Quick, before they get back.” “Oh, my gods!” Silena
said. “You’re more worried about this hunk of metal than Charlie?”
Annabeth spun around and shook her by the shoulders. “Listen, Silena!
Those are Myrmekes. They’re like fire ants, only a hundred times worse.
They bite poison. They spray acid. They communicate with all the other ants
and swarm anything that threatens them. If we’d rushed in there to help
Beckendorf, we would have been dragged inside, too. We’re going to need
help—a lot of help—to get him back. Now, grab some wires and pull!”
I didn’t know what Annabeth was up to, but I’d adventured with her long
enough to figure she had a good reason for what she was doing. The three of
us tugged the metal dragon’s head into the woods. Annabeth didn’t let us stop
until we were fifty yards from the clearing. Then we collapsed, sweating and
breathing hard.
Silena started to cry. “He’s probably dead already.” “No,” Annabeth said.
“They won’t kill him right away. We’ve got about half an hour.”
“How do you know that?” I asked.
“I’ve read about the Myrmekes. They paralyze their prey so they can
soften them up before—”
Silena sobbed. “We have to save him!”
“Silena,” Annabeth said. “We’re going to save him, but I need you to get
a grip. There is a way.”
“Call the other campers,” I said, “or Chiron. Chiron will know what to
do.”
Annabeth shook her head. “They’re scattered all over the woods. By the
time we got everyone back here, it would be too late. Besides, the entire camp
wouldn’t be strong enough to invade the Ant Hill.”
“Then what?”
Annabeth pointed at the dragon’s head.
“Okay,” I said. “You’re going to scare the ants with a big metal puppet?”
“It’s an automaton,” she said.
That didn’t make me feel any better. Automatons were magical bronze
robots made by Hephaestus. Most of them were crazed killing machines, and
those were the nice ones.
“So what?” I said. “It’s just a head. It’s broken.”
“Percy, this isn’t just any automaton,” Annabeth said. “It’s the bronze
dragon. Haven’t you heard the stories?”
I stared at her blankly. Annabeth had been at camp a lot longer than I
had. She probably knew tons of stories I didn’t.
Silena’s eyes widened. “You mean the old guardian? But that’s just a
legend!”
“Whoa,” I said. “What old guardian?”
Annabeth took a deep breath. “Percy, in the days before Thalia’s tree—
back before the camp had magical boundaries to keep out monsters—the
counselors tried all sorts of different ways to protect themselves. The most
famous was the bronze dragon. The Hephaestus cabin made it with the
blessing of their father. Supposedly it was so fierce and powerful that it kept
the camp safe for over a decade. And then . . . about fifteen years ago, it
disappeared into the woods.”
“And you think this is its head?”
“It has to be! The Myrmekes probably dug it up while they were looking
for precious metal. They couldn’t move the whole thing, so they chewed off
the head. The body can’t be far away.”
“But they chewed it apart. It’s useless.”
“Not necessarily.” Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, and I could tell her brain
was working overtime. “We could reassemble it. If we could activate it—”
“It could help us rescue Charlie!” Silena said.
“Hold up,” I said. “That’s a lot of ifs. If we find it, if we can reactivate it
in time, if it will help us. You said this thing disappeared fifteen years ago?”
Annabeth nodded. “Some say its motor wore out so it went into the
woods to deactivate itself. Or its programming went haywire. No one knows.”
“You want to reassemble a haywire metal dragon?”
“We have to try!” Annabeth said. “It’s Beckendorf’s only hope! Besides,
this could be a sign from Hephaestus. The dragon should want to help one of
Hephaestus’s kids. Beckendorf would want us to try.”
I didn’t like the idea. On the other hand, I didn’t have any better
suggestions. We were running out of time, and Silena looked like she was
about to go into shock if we didn’t do something soon. Beckendorf had said
something about a sign from Hephaestus. Maybe it was time to find out.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s go find a headless dragon.”
We searched forever, or maybe it just seemed that way, because the
whole time, I was imagining Beckendorf in the Ant Hill, scared and
paralyzed, while a bunch of armored critters scuttled around him, waiting for
him to be tenderized.
It wasn’t hard to follow the ants’ trail. They’d dragged the dragon’s head
through the forest, making a deep rut in the mud, and we dragged the head
right back the way they’d come.
We must’ve gone a quarter of a mile—and I was getting worried about
our time—when Annabeth said, “Di immortales.”
We’d come to the rim of a crater—like something had blasted a housesize
hole in the forest floor. The sides were slippery and dotted with tree
roots. Ant tracks led to the bottom, where a large metal mound glinted
through the dirt. Wires stuck up from a bronze stump on one end.
“The dragon’s neck,” I said. “You think the ants made this crater?”
Annabeth shook her head. “Looks more like a meteor blast. . . .”
“Hephaestus,” Silena said. “The god must’ve unearthed this. Hephaestus
wanted us to find the dragon. He wanted Charlie to . . .” She choked up.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s reconnect this bad boy.”
Getting the dragon’s head to the bottom was easy. It tumbled right down
the slope and hit the neck with a loud, metallic BONK! Reconnecting it was
harder.
We had no tools and no experience.
Annabeth fiddled with the wires and cursed in Ancient Greek. “We need
Beckendorf. He could do this in seconds.”
“Isn’t your mom the goddess of inventors?” I asked.
Annabeth glared at me. “Yes, but this is different. I’m good with ideas.
Not mechanics.”
“If I was going to pick one person in the world to reattach my head,” I
said, “I’d pick you.”
I just blurted it out—to give her confidence, I guess— but immediately I
realized it sounded pretty stupid.
“Awww. . .” Silena sniffled and wiped her eyes. “Percy, that is so
sweet!”
Annabeth blushed. “Shut up, Silena. Hand me your dagger.”
I was afraid Annabeth was going to stab me with it. Instead she used it as
a screwdriver, to open a panel in the dragon’s neck. “Here goes nothing,” she
said.
And she started to splice together the celestial bronze wires.
It took a long time. Too long.
I figured Capture the Flag had to be over by now. I wondered how soon
the other campers would realize we were missing and come looking for us. If
Annabeth’s calculations were correct (and they always were), Beckendorf
probably had five or ten minutes left before the ants got him.
Finally Annabeth stood up and exhaled. Her hands were scraped and
muddy. Her fingernails were wrecked. She had a brown streak across her
forehead where the dragon had decided to spit grease at her.
“All right,” she said. “It’s done, I think. . . .”
“You think?” Silena asked.
“It has to be done,” I said. “We’re out of time. How do you, uh, start it?
Is there an ignition switch or something?”
Annabeth pointed to its ruby eyes. “Those turn clockwise. I’m guessing
we rotate them.”
“If somebody twisted my eyeballs, I’d wake up,” I agreed. “What if it
goes crazy on us?”
“Then . . . we’re dead,” Annabeth said.
“Great,” I said. “I’m psyched.”
Together we turned the ruby eyes of the dragon. Immediately, they began
to glow. Annabeth and I backed up so fast we fell over each other. The
dragon’s mouth opened, as if it were testing its jaw. The head turned and
looked at us. Steam poured from its ears, and it tried to rise.
When it found it couldn’t move, the dragon seemed confused. It cocked
its head and regarded the dirt. Finally, it realized it was buried. The neck
strained once, twice . . . and the center of the crater erupted.
The dragon pulled itself awkwardly out of the ground, shaking clumps of
mud from its body the way a dog might, splattering us from head to toe. The
automaton was so awesome, none of us could speak. I mean, sure it needed a
trip through the car wash, and there were a few loose wires sticking out here
and there, but the dragon’s body was amazing—like a high-tech tank with
legs. Its sides were plated with bronze and gold scales, encrusted with
gemstones. Its legs were the size of tree trunks, and its feet had steel talons. It
had no wings—most Greek dragons don’t—but its tail was at least as long as
its main body, which was the size of a school bus. The neck creaked and
popped as it turned its head to the sky and blew a column of triumphant fire.
“Well . . .” I said in a small voice. “It still works.”
Unfortunately, it heard me. Those ruby eyes zeroed in on me, and it
stuck its snout two inches from my face. Instinctively, I reached for my
sword.
“Dragon, stop!” Silena yelled. I was amazed her voice still worked. She
spoke with such command that the automaton turned its attention to her.
Silena swallowed nervously. “We’ve woken you to defend the camp. You
remember? That is your job!”
The dragon tilted its head as if it were thinking. I figured Silena had
about a fifty-fifty chance of getting blasted with fire. I was considering
jumping on the thing’s neck to distract it, when Silena said, “Charles
Beckendorf, a son of Hephaestus, is in trouble. The Myrmekes have taken
him. He needs your help.”
At the word Hephaestus, the dragon’s neck straightened. A shiver rippled
through its metal body, throwing a new shower of mud clods all over us.
The dragon looked around, as if trying to find an enemy.
“We have to show it,” Annabeth said. “Come on, dragon! This way to
the son of Hephaestus! Follow us!”
Just like that, she drew her sword, and the three of us climbed out of the
pit.
“For Hephaestus!” Annabeth yelled, which was a nice touch. We charged
through the woods. When I looked behind us, the bronze dragon was right on
our tail, its red eyes glowing and steam coming out its nostrils.
It was good incentive to keep running fast as we headed for the Ant Hill.
When we got to the clearing, the dragon seemed to catch Beckendorf’s
scent. It barreled ahead of us, and we had to jump out of its way to avoid
getting flattened. It crashed through the trees, joints creaking, feet pounding
craters into the ground.
It charged straight for the Ant Hill. At first, the Myrmekes didn’t know
what was happening. The dragon stepped on a few of them, smashing them to
bug juice. Then their telepathic network seemed to light up, like: Big dragon.
Bad!
All the ants in the clearing turned simultaneously and swarmed the
dragon. More ants poured out of the hill— hundreds of them. The dragon
blew fire and sent a whole column of them into a panicked retreat. Who knew
ants were flammable? But more kept coming.
“Inside, now!” Annabeth told us. “While they’re focused on the dragon!”
Silena led the charge; it was the first time I’d ever followed a child of
Aphrodite into battle. We ran past the ants, but they ignored us. For some
reason they seemed to consider the dragon a bigger threat. Go figure.
We plunged into the nearest tunnel, and I almost gagged from the stench.
Nothing, I mean nothing, stinks worse than a giant ant lair. I could tell they let
their food rot before eating it. Somebody seriously needed to teach them
about refrigerators.
Our journey inside was a blur of dark tunnels and moldy rooms carpeted
with old ant shells and pools of goo. Ants surged past us on their way to
battle, but we just stepped aside and let them pass. The faint bronze glow of
my sword gave us light as we made our way deeper into the nest.
“Look!” Annabeth said.
I glanced into a side room, and my heart skipped a beat. Hanging from
the ceiling were huge, gooey sacks— ant larvae, I guess—but that’s not what
got my attention. The cave floor was heaped with gold coins, gems, and other
treasures—helmets, swords, musical instruments, jewelry. They glowed the
way magic items do.
“That’s just one room,” Annabeth said. “There are probably hundreds of
nurseries down here, decorated with treasure.”
“It’s not important,” Silena insisted. “We have to find Charlie!”
Another first: a child of Aphrodite uninterested in jewelry.
We forged on. After twenty more feet, we entered a cavern that smelled
so bad my nose shut down completely. The remains of old meals were piled
as high as sand dunes—bones, chunks of rancid meat, even old camp meals. I
guess the ants had been raiding the camp’s compost heap and stealing our
leftovers. At the base of one of the heaps, struggling to pull himself upright,
was Beckendorf. He looked awful, partly because his camouflage armor was
now the color of garbage.
“Charlie!” Silena ran to him and tried to help him up.
“Thank the gods,” he said. “My—my legs are paralyzed!”
“It’ll wear off,” Annabeth said. “But we have to get you out of here.
Percy, take his other side.”
Silena and I hoisted Beckendorf up, and the four of us started back
through the tunnels. I could hear distant sounds of battle—metal creaking, fire
roaring, hundreds of ants snapping and spitting.
“What’s going on out there?” Beckendorf asked. His body tensed. “The
dragon! You didn’t—reactivate it?”
“Afraid so,” I said. “Seemed like the only way.”
“But you can’t just turn on an automaton! You have to calibrate the
motor, run a diagnostic . . . There’s no telling what it’ll do! We’ve got to get
out there!”
As it turned out, we didn’t need to go anywhere, because the dragon
came to us. We were trying to remember which tunnel was the exit when the
entire hill exploded, showering us in dirt. Suddenly we were staring at open
sky. The dragon was right above us, thrashing back and forth, smashing the
Ant Hill to bits as it tried to shake off the Myrmekes crawling all over its
body.
“Come on!” I yelled. We dug ourselves out of the dirt and stumbled
down the side of the hill, dragging Beckendorf with us.
Our friend the dragon was in trouble. The Myrmekes were biting at the
joints of its armor, spitting acid all over it. The dragon stomped and snapped
and blew flames, but it couldn’t last much longer. Steam was rising from its
bronze skin.
Even worse, a few of the ants turned toward us. I guess they didn’t like
us stealing their dinner. I slashed at one and lopped off its head. Annabeth
stabbed another right between the feelers. As the celestial bronze blade
pierced its shell, the whole ant disintegrated.
“I—I think I can walk now,” Beckendorf said, and immediately fell on
his face when we let go of him.
“Charlie!” Silena helped him up and pulled him along while Annabeth
and I cleared a path through the ants. Somehow we managed to reach the edge
of the clearing without getting bitten or splashed, though one of my sneakers
was smoking from acid.
Back in the clearing, the dragon stumbled. A great cloud of acid mist was
roiling off its hide.
“We can’t let it die!” Silena said.
“It’s too dangerous,” Beckendorf said sadly. “Its wiring—”
“Charlie,” Silena pleaded, “it saved your life! Please, for me.”
Beckendorf hesitated. His face was still bright red from the ant spit, and
he looked as if he were going to faint any minute, but he struggled to his feet.
“Get ready to run,” he told us. Then he gazed across the clearing and shouted,
“DRAGON! Emergency defense, beta-ACTIVATE!”
The dragon turned toward the sound of his voice. It stopped struggling
against the ants, and its eyes glowed. The air smelled of ozone, like before a
thunderstorm.
ZZZZZAAAAAPPP!
Arcs of blue electricity shot from the dragon’s skin, rippling up and
down its body and connecting with the ants. Some of the ants exploded.
Others smoked and blackened, their legs twitching. In a few seconds there
were no more ants on the dragon. The ones that were still alive were in full
retreat, scuttling back toward their ruined hill as fingers of electricity zapped
them in the butt to prod them along.
The dragon bellowed in triumph, then it turned its glowing eyes toward
us.
“Now,” Beckendorf said, “we run.”
This time we did not yell, “For Hephaestus!” We yelled, “Heeeeelp!”
The dragon pounded after us, spewing fire and zapping lightning bolts
over our heads like it was having a great time.
“How do you stop it?” Annabeth yelled.
Beckendorf, whose legs were now working fine (nothing like being
chased by a huge monster to get your body back in order) shook his head and
gasped for breath. “You shouldn’t have turned it on! It’s unstable! After a few
years, automatons go wild!”
“Good to know,” I yelled. “But how do you turn it off ?”
Beckendorf looked around wildly. “There!”
Up ahead was an outcropping of rock, almost as tall as the trees. The
woods were full of weird rock formations, but I’d never seen this one before.
It was shaped like a giant skateboard ramp, slanted on one side, with a sheer
drop-off on the other.
“You guys, run around to the base of the cliff,” Beckendorf said.
“Distract the dragon. Keep it occupied!”
“What are you going to do?” Silena said.
“You’ll see. Go!”
Beckendorf ducked behind a tree while I turned and yelled at the dragon,
“Hey, lizard-lips! Your breath smells like gasoline!”
The dragon spewed black smoke out of its nostrils. It thundered toward
me, shaking the ground.
“Come on!” Annabeth grabbed my hand. We ran for the back side of the
cliff. The dragon followed.
“We have to hold it here,” Annabeth said. The three of us readied our
swords.
The dragon reached us and lurched to a stop. It tilted its head like it
couldn’t believe we’d be so foolish as to fight. Now that it had caught us,
there were so many different ways it could kill us it probably couldn’t decide.
We scattered as its first blast of fire turned the ground where we’d been
standing into a smoking pit of ashes.
Then I saw Beckendorf above us—at the top of the cliff—and I
understood what he was trying to do. He needed a clear shot. I had to keep the
dragon’s attention.
“Yaaaah!” I charged. I brought Riptide down on the dragon’s foot and
sliced off a talon.
Its head creaked as it looked down at me. It seemed more confused than
angry, like, Why did you cut off my toe?
Then it opened its mouth, baring a hundred razor-sharp teeth.
“Percy!” Annabeth warned.
I stood my ground. “Just another second . . .”
“Percy!”
And just before the dragon struck, Beckendorf launched himself off the
rocks and landed on the dragon’s neck.
The dragon reared back and shot flames, trying to shake Beckendorf, but
he held on like a cowboy as the monster bucked around. I watched in
fascination as he ripped open a panel at the base of the dragon’s head and
yanked a wire.
Instantly, the dragon froze. Its eyes went dim. Suddenly it was only the
statue of a dragon, baring its teeth at the sky.
Beckendorf slid down the dragon’s neck. He collapsed at its tail,
exhausted and breathing heavily.
“Charlie!” Silena ran to him and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “You
did it!”
Annabeth came up to me and squeezed my shoulder. “Hey, Seaweed
Brain, you okay?”
“Fine . . . I guess.” I was thinking how close I’d come to being chopped
into demigod hash in the dragon’s mouth.
“You did great.” Annabeth’s smile was a lot nicer than that stupid
dragon’s.
“You, too,” I said shakily. “So . . . what do we do with the automaton?”
Beckendorf wiped his forehead. Silena was still fussing over his cuts and
bruises, and Beckendorf looked pretty distracted by the attention.
“We—uh—I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we can fix it, get it to guard
the camp, but that could take months.”
“Worth trying,” I said. I imagined having that bronze dragon in our fight
against the Titan lord Kronos. His monsters would think twice about attacking
camp if they had to face that thing. On the other hand, if the dragon decided
to go berserk again and attack the campers—that would pretty much stink.
“Did you see all the treasure in the Ant Hill?” Beckendorf asked. “The
magic weapons? The armor? That stuff could really help us.”
“And the bracelets,” Silena said. “And the necklaces.”
I shuddered, remembering the smell of those tunnels. “I think that’s an
adventure for later. It would take an army of demigods even to get close to
that treasure.”
“Maybe,” Beckendorf said. “But what a treasure . . .”
Silena studied the frozen dragon. “Charlie, that was the bravest thing I
ever saw—you jumping on that dragon.”
Beckendorf swallowed. “Um . . . yeah. So . . . will you go to the
fireworks with me?”
Silena’s face lit up. “Of course, you big dummy! I thought you’d never
ask!”
Beckendorf suddenly looked a whole lot better. “Well let’s get back,
then! I bet Capture the Flag is over.”
I had to go barefoot, because the acid had eaten completely through my
shoe. When I kicked it off I realized the goo had soaked into my sock and
turned my foot red and raw. I leaned against Annabeth, and she helped me
limp through the woods.
Beckendorf and Silena walked ahead of us, holding hands, and we gave
them some space.
Watching them, with my arm around Annabeth for support, I felt pretty
uncomfortable. I silently cursed Beckendorf for being so brave, and I don’t
mean for facing the dragon. After three years, he’d finally gotten the courage
to ask Silena Beauregard out. It wasn’t fair.
“You know,” Annabeth said as we struggled along, “it wasn’t the bravest
thing I’ve ever seen.”
I blinked. Had she been reading my thoughts?
“Um . . . what do you mean?”
Annabeth gripped my wrist as we stumbled through a shallow creek.
“You stood up to the dragon so Beckendorf would have his chance to jump—
now that was brave.”
“Or pretty stupid.”
“Percy, you’re a brave guy,” she said. “Just take the compliment. I swear,
is it so hard?”
We locked eyes. Our faces were, like, two inches apart. My chest felt a
little funny, like my heart was trying to do jumping jacks.
“So . . .” I said. “I guess Silena and Charlie are going to the fireworks
together.”
“I guess so,” Annabeth agreed.
“Yeah,” I said. “Um, about that—”
I don’t know what I would’ve said, but just then, three of Annabeth’s
siblings from the Athena cabin burst out of the bushes with their swords
drawn. When they saw us, they broke into grins.
“Annabeth!” one of them said. “Good job! Let’s get these two to jail.”
I stared at him. “The game’s not over?”
The Athena camper laughed. “Not yet . . . but soon.
Now that we’ve captured you.”
“Dude, come on,” Beckendorf protested. “We got sidetracked. There was
a dragon, and the whole Ant Hill was attacking us.”
“Uh-huh,” said another Athena guy, clearly unimpressed. “Annabeth,
great job distracting them. Worked out perfectly. You want us to take them
from here?”
Annabeth pulled away from me. I thought for sure she was going to give
us a free walk back to the border, but she drew her dagger and pointed it at me
with a smile.
“Nah,” she said. “Silena and I can get this. Come on, prisoners. Move
it.”
I stared at her, stunned. “You planned this? You planned this whole thing
just to keep us out of the game?”
“Percy, seriously, how could I have planned it? The dragon, the ants—
you think I could’ve figured all that out ahead of time?”
It didn’t seem likely, but this was Annabeth. There was no telling with
her. Then she exchanged glances with Silena, and I could tell they were trying
not to laugh.
“You—you little—” I started to say, but I couldn’t think of a name strong
enough to call her.
I protested all the way to the jail, and so did Beckendorf. It was totally
unfair to be treated like prisoners after all we’d been through.
But Annabeth just smiled and put us in jail. As she was heading back to
the front line, she turned and winked. “See you at the fireworks?”
She didn’t even wait for my answer before darting off into the woods. I
looked at Beckendorf. “Did she just . . . ask me out?” He shrugged,
completely disgusted. “Who knows with girls? Give me a haywire dragon,
any day.” So we sat together and waited while the girls won the game.__
4. INTERVIEW WITH CONNOR AND TRAVIS STOLL, SONS OF HERMES
Click here to go to Index 



What’s the best practical joke you’ve ever played on another
camper?
Connor: The golden mango!
Travis: Oh, dude, that was awesome.
Connor: So anyway, we took this mango and spray painted it
gold, right? We wrote: “For the hottest” on it and left it in the
Aphrodite cabin while they were at archery class. When they came
back, they started fighting over it, trying to figure out which
of them was the hottest. It was so funny.
Travis: Gucci shoes were flying out the windows. The
Aphrodite kids were ripping each other’s clothes and throwing
lipstick and jewelry. It was like a rabid herd of wild Bratz.
Connor: Then they figured out what we’d done, and they
tracked us down.
Travis: That was not cool. I didn’t know they made permanent
makeup. I looked like a clown for a month.
Connor: Yeah. They put a curse on me so that no matter what I
wore, my clothes were two sizes too small and I felt like a geek.
Travis: You are a geek.
Who would you most want on your team for Capture the Flag?
Travis: My brother, because I need to keep an eye on him.
Connor: My brother, because I don’t trust him. But besides
him? Probably Ares cabin.
Travis: Yeah. They’re strong and easy to manipulate. The
perfect combo.
What’s the best part of being in the Hermes cabin?
Connor: You are never lonely. I mean seriously, new kids are
always coming in. So you always have somebody to talk to.
Travis: Or prank.
Connor: Or pickpocket. One big happy family.
5. INTERVIEW WITH CLARISSE LA RUE, DAUGHTER OF ARES
Click here to go to Index 



Who do you most want to pick a fight with at Camp Half-Blood?
Clarisse: Whoever gets in my face, loser. Oh, you mean
specifically? So many choices. There’s this new guy in Apollo
cabin, Michael Yew. I would love to break his bow over his head.
He thinks Apollo is so much better than Ares just because they
can use ranged weapons and stand far away from the battle like
cowards. Give me a spear and shield any day. Some day, mark my
words, I’m going to pulverize Michael Yew and his whole wimpy
cabin.
Aside from your father, who do you think is the bravest god or
goddess on the Olympian Council?
Clarisse: Well, nobody comes close to Ares, but I guess Lord
Zeus is pretty brave. I mean he took on Typhon and fought Kronos.
Of course, it’s easy to be brave when you’ve got an arsenal of
super powerful lightning bolts. No disrespect intended.
Did you ever get revenge on Percy for soaking you with toilet
water?
Clarisse: Oh, that little punk has been bragging again, huh?
Don’t believe him. He exaggerated that whole thing. Believe me,
revenge is coming. One of these days, he’s going to be sorry. Why
am I waiting? Just strategy. Biding my time and waiting for the
right moment to strike. I am not scared, okay? Anybody says
different, I’ll rearrange their dental work.
6. INTERVIEW WITH ANNABETH CHASE, DAUGHTER OF ATHENA
Click here to go to Index 



If you could design a new structure for Camp Half-Blood what
would it be?
Annabeth: I’m glad you asked. We seriously need a temple.
Here we are, children of the Greek gods, and we don’t even have a
monument to our parents. I’d put it on the hill just south of
Half-Blood Hill, and I’d design it so that every morning the
rising sun would shine through its windows and make a different
god’s emblem on the floor: like one day an eagle, the next an
owl. It would have statues for all the gods, of course, and
golden braziers for burnt offerings. I’d design it with perfect
acoustics, like Carnegie Hall, so we could have lyre and reed
pipe concerts there. I could go on and on, but you probably get
the idea. Chiron says we’d have to sell four million truckloads
of strawberries to pay for a project like that, but I think it
would be worth it.
Aside from your mom, who do you think is the wisest god or
goddess on the Olympian Council?
Annabeth: Wow, let me think . . . um. The thing is, the
Olympians aren’t exactly known for wisdom, and I mean that with
the greatest possible respect. Zeus is wise in his own way. I
mean he’s kept the family together for four thousand years, and
that’s not easy. Hermes is clever. He even fooled Apollo once by
stealing his cattle, and Apollo is no slouch. I’ve always admired
Artemis, too. She doesn’t compromise her beliefs. She just does
her own thing and doesn’t spend a lot of time arguing with the
other gods on the council. She spends more time in the mortal
world than most gods, too, so she understands what’s going on.
She doesn’t understand guys, though. I guess nobody’s perfect.
Of all your Camp Half-Blood friends, who would you most like to
have with you in battle?
Annabeth: Oh, Percy. No contest. I mean, sure he can be
annoying, but he’s dependable. He’s brave and he’s a good
fighter. Normally, as long as I’m telling him what to do, he wins
in a fight.
You’ve been known to call Percy “Seaweed Brain” from time to
time. What’s his most annoying quality?
Annabeth: Well, I don’t call him that because he’s so bright,
do I? I mean he’s not dumb. He’s actually pretty intelligent, but
he acts so dumb sometimes. I wonder if he does it just to annoy
me. The guy has a lot going for him. He’s courageous. He’s got a
sense of humor. He’s good-looking, but don’t you dare tell him I
said that.
Where was I? Oh yeah, so he’s got a lot going for him, but
he’s so . . . obtuse. That’s the word. I mean he doesn’t see
really obvious stuff, like the way people feel, even when you’re
giving him hints, and being totally blatant. What? No, I’m not
talking about anyone or anything in particular! I’m just making a
general statement. Why does everyone always think . . . agh!
Forget it.
7. INTERVIEW WITH GROVER UNDERWOOOD, SATYR
Click here to go to Index  



What’s your favorite song to play on the reed pipes?
Grover: Oh, um—well, it’s a little embarrassing. I got this
request once from a muskrat who wanted to hear “Muskrat Love.”
Well ... I learned it, and I have to admit I enjoy playing it.
Honestly, it’s not just for muskrats anymore! It’s a very sweet
love story. I get misty-eyed every time I play it. So does Percy,
but I think that’s because he’s laughing at me.
Who would you least like to meet in a dark alley—a Cyclops or an
angry Mr. D?
Grover: Blah-hah-hah! What kind of question is that? Um—
well... I’d much rather meet Mr. D, obviously, because he’s so .
. . er, nice. Yes, kind and generous to all us satyrs. We all
love him. And I’m not just saying that because he’s always
listening, and he would blast me to pieces if I said anything
different.
In your opinion, what’s the most beautiful spot in nature in all
of America?
Grover: It’s amazing there are any nice spots left, but I
like Lake Placid in upstate New York. Very beautiful, especially
on a winter day! And the dryads up there—wow! Oh, wait, can you
edit that part out? Juniper will kill me.
Are tin cans really that tasty?
Grover: My old granny goat used to say, “Two cans a day keep
the monsters away.” Lots of minerals, very filling, and the
texture is wonderful. Really, what’s not to like? I can’t help it
if human teeth aren’t built for heavy-duty dining.
 
8. INTERVIEW WITH PERCY JACKSON, SON OF POSEIDON
Click here to go to Index 



What’s your favorite part about summers at Camp Half-Blood?
Percy: Seeing my friends, for sure. It’s so cool to come back
to camp after a year in school. It’s like coming home. The first
day of summer, I’ll walk down to the cabins and Connor and Travis
are stealing stuff from the camp store, and Silena is arguing
with Annabeth trying to give her a makeover, and Clarisse is
still sticking the new kids’ heads into the toilets. It’s nice
that some things never change.
You’ve attended quite a few different schools. What’s the hardest
part about being the new kid?
Percy: Making your rep. I mean everybody wants to fit you
into a box, right? Either you’re a geek or a jock or whatever.
You’ve got to make it clear right away that you’re not somebody
they can pick on, but you also can’t be a jerk about it. I’m
probably not the best person to give advice, though. I can’t get
through the year without getting kicked out or blowing something
up.
If you had to trade Riptide for another magic item, whose item
would you choose?
Percy: Hard one, because I’ve really gotten used to Riptide.
I can’t imagine not having that sword. I guess it would be cool
to have a set of armor that melted into my regular clothes.
Wearing armor is a pain. It’s heavy. It’s hot. And it doesn’t
exactly make a fashion statement, you know? So having clothes
that morphed into armor would be really useful. I’m still not
sure I’d trade my sword for that, though.
You’ve had a lot of close calls, but what’s been your scariest
moment?
Percy: I’m going to have to say my first fight with the
Minotaur, up on Half-Blood Hill, because I didn’t know what the
heck was going on. I didn’t even know I was a demigod at that
point. I thought I’d lost my mom forever, and I was stuck on a
hill in a thunderstorm fighting this huge bull dude while Grover
was passed out wailing, “Food!” It was terrifying, man.
Any advice for kids who suspect they may be demigods, too?
Percy: Pray you are wrong. Seriously, this may sound fun to
read about, but it is bad news. If you do think you’re a demigod,
find a satyr fast. You can usually spot them at any school. They
laugh weird, and they eat anything. They might walk funny because
they’re trying to hide their hooves inside fake feet. Find your
school satyr and get his help. You need to make it to Camp Half-
Blood right away. But again, you do not want to be a demigod. Do
not try this at home.
9. MAP OF CAMP HALF-BLOOD
Click here to go to Index 


10. ANNABETH CHASE'S CAMP TRUNK
Click here to go to Index 


11. PORTRAITS
Click here to go to Index 


ALSO KNOWN AS
Lord of the Sky
Ruler of Mount Olympus
One of the “Big Three”
HOMETOWN
Mount Olympus
(currently located on the 600th floor of the
Empire State Building)
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Master Lightning Bolt

ALSO KNOWN AS
God of the Sea
One of the “Big Three”
Percy’s Dad
HOMETOWN
The Deep Sea
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Trident
ALSO KNOWN AS
Goddess of Wisdom and Battle
Annabeth’s Mom
HOMETOWN
Zeus’ Head, from which she was born
in full battle armor
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Strategy, trickery, and
whatever happens to be on hand

ALSO KNOWN AS

God of War

Clarisse’s Dad
HOMETOWN
Mount Olympus
(although his bumper sticker reads:
“I wasn’t born in Sparta, but I got here
as fast as I could.”)
WEAPON OF CHOICE
You name it, he’s got it.

 






ALSO KNOWN AS
Demigod son of Poseidon
Seaweed Brain
HOMETOWN
New York, New York
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Riptide


ALSO KNOWN AS
Demigod daughter of Athena
Wise Girl
HOMETOWN
San Francisco, California
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Magical Yankees cap of invisibility
and celestial bronze knife
ALSO KNOWN AS
Goat Boy
Percy’s best friend
HOMETOWN
The woods of Camp Half-Blood
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Reed pipes

ALSO KNOWN AS
Mr. Brunner
Immortal trainer of heroes
Activities Director, Camp
Half-Blood
HOMETOWN
Camp Half-Blood, Long Island, New York
WEAPON OF CHOICE
Bow and arrows





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