sixty seven.

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AT THE END of the hall stood a walnut door with a bronze plaque:

  ASCLEPIUS

  MD, DMD, DME, DC, DVS, FAAN, OMG, EMT, TTYL.

  There may have been more acronyms in the list, but by that point Val's brain had exploded. And also none of the other acronyms were that fun.

  Piper knocked. "Dr Asclepius?"

  The door flew open. The man inside had a kindly smile, crinkles around his eyes, short salt-and-pepper hair and a well-trimmed beard. He wore a white lab coat over a business suit and a stethoscope around his neck – your stereotypical doctor outfit, except for one thing: Asclepius held a polished black staff with a live green python coiled around it.

Val wasn't happy to see another snake. The python regarded her with pale yellow eyes, and she had a feeling it was not set to idiot mode.

  "Hello!" said Asclepius.

  "Doctor." Piper's smile was so warm it would've melted a Boread. "We'd be so grateful for your help. We need the physician's cure."

  Asclepius put his hand over his heart. "Oh, my dear, I would be delighted to help."

  Piper's smile wavered. "You would? I mean, of course you would."

  "Come in! Come in!" Asclepius ushered them into his office.

  The guy was so nice that Val figured his office would be full of torture devices, but it looked like . . . well, a doctor's office: a big maple desk, bookshelves stuffed with medical books, and some of those plastic organ models.

  Asclepius took the big comfy doctor's chair and laid his staff and serpent across his desk. "Please, sit!"

Val and Piper took the two chairs on the patients' side. Jason and Leo had to remain standing. Val wished she was them. They didn't have to be eye level with the snake.

  "So." Asclepius leaned back. "I can't tell you how nice it is to actually talk with patients. The last few thousand years, the paperwork has got out of control. Rush, rush, rush. Fill in forms. Deal with red tape. Not to mention the giant alabaster guardian who kills everyone in the waiting room. It takes all the fun out of medicine!"

  "Yeah," Leo said. "Hygeia is kind of a downer."

  Asclepius grinned. "My real daughter Hygeia isn't like that, I assure you. She's quite nice. At any rate, you did well reprogramming the statue. You have a surgeon's hands."

  Jason shuddered. "Leo with a scalpel? Don't encourage him."

  The doctor god chuckled. "Now, what seems to be the trouble?" He sat forward and peered at Jason. "Hmm . . . Imperial gold sword wound, but that's healed nicely. No cancer, no heart problems. Watch that mole on your left foot, but I'm sure it's benign."

  Jason blanched. "How did you –"

  "Oh, of course!" Asclepius said. "You're a bit short-sighted! Simple fix."

  He opened his drawer, whipped out a prescription pad and an eyeglasses case. He scribbled something on the pad, then handed the glasses and the scrip to Jason. "Keep the prescription for future reference, but these lenses should work. Try them on."

  "Wait," Val said. "Jason is short-sighted?"

  Jason opened the case. "I – I have had a little trouble seeing stuff from a distance lately," he admitted. "I thought I was just tired." He tried on the glasses, which had thin frames of Imperial gold. "Wow. Yeah. That's better."

TERRIFIED . . . annabeth chaseWhere stories live. Discover now