Chapter 1

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One

We Go Cruising With Explosives


  The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.

  Up until then, I was having a great afternoon. Technically I wasn't supposed to be driving because, technically, I didn't have a license, but my adoptive mom and my stepdad, Paul, took my friend Rachel, my adoptive brother, Percy, and me to this private stretch of beach on the South Shore, and Paul let us borrow his Prius for a short spin.

  Now, I know you're thinking, Wow, that was really irresponsible of him, blah, blah, blah, but Paul knows me pretty well. He's seen me slice up demons and leap out of exploding school buildings, so he probably figured taking a car a few hundred yards wasn't exactly the most dangerous thing I'd ever done.

  Anyway, Rachel and I were driving along. Percy was in the backseat, taking a nap. It was a hot August day. Rachel's red hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore a white blouse over her swimsuit. I'd never seen her in anything but ratty T-shirts and paint-splattered jeans before, and she looked like a million golden drachmas.

  "Oh, pull up right there!" she told me.

  We parked on a ridge overlooking the  Atlantic. I put my feet in the dashboard and laid back on my seat, my feet we're already hurting with the sneakers I had on. The sea is always one of my favorite places, but today it was especially nice—glittery green and smooth as glass, as though my uncle was keeping it calm just for us.

  My uncle, by the way, is Poseidon. He can do stuff like that.

  "So." Rachel smiled at me. "About that invitation."

  "Oh ... right." I tried to sound excited. I mean, she'd asked me to her family's vacation house on St. Thomas for three days. I didn't get a lot of offers like that. My family's idea of a fancy vacation was a weekend in a rundown cabin on Long Island with some movie rentals and a couple of frozen pizzas, and here Rachel's folks were willing to let me tag along to the Caribbean.

  Besides, I seriously needed a vacation. This summer had been the hardest of my life. The idea of taking a break even for a few days was really tempting.

  Still, something big was supposed to go down any day now. I was "on call" for a mission. Even worse, next week was Percy's birthday. There was this prophecy that said when he turned sixteen, bad things would happen.

  "(y/n)," she said, "I know the timing is bad. But it's always bad for you, right?"

  She had a point.

  "I really want to go," I promised. "It's just—"

  "The war.”

  I nodded. I didn't like talking about it, but Rachel knew. Unlike most mortals, she could see through the Mist—the magic veil that distorts human vision. She'd seen monsters. She'd met some of the other demigods who were fighting the Titans and their allies. She'd even been there last summer when the chopped-up Lord Kronos rose out of his coffin in a terrible new form, and she'd earned my permanent respect by nailing him in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush.

  She put her hand on my arm. "Just think about it, okay? We don't leave for a couple of days. My dad ..." Her voice faltered.

  "Is he giving you a hard time?" I asked.

  Rachel shook her head in disgust. "He's trying to be nice to me, which is almost worse. He wants me to go to Clarion Ladies Academy in the fall."

  "The school where your mom went?"

𐌙/𐌍 Ᏽ𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌄 & 𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ᏽ𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕 𐌌𐌙𐌕𐋅𐌔 ¹Where stories live. Discover now