𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐩. 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

Manhattan gets more sleep than demigods

The blue lights in the sky had stopped, so at first Evangeline didn't understand what the problem was.

The other campers had gathered in a small park at the edge of a mountain. They were clustered at the guardrail, looking down at Manhattan. The railing was lined with those tourist binoculars, where you could deposit one golden drachma and see the city. Campers were using every single one.

Evangeline looked down at the city. She could see almost everything from there—the East River and the Hudson River carving the shape of Manhattan, the grid of streets, the lights of skyscrapers, and the dark stretch of Central Park in the north. Everything looked normal, but something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones.

"I don't...hear anything," Annabeth said.

That was the problem.

"What did they do?" Percy's voice sounded tight and angry. "What did they do to my city?"

He pushed Michael Yew away from the binoculars and took a look.

In the streets below, traffic had stopped. Pedestrians were lying on the sidewalks or curled up in doorways. There was no sign of violence, no wrecks, nothing like that. It was as if all the people in New York had simply decided to stop whatever they were doing and pass out.

"Are they dead?" Silena asked in astonishment.

Evangeline clenched her jaw as she stared down at the silent city. "They're not dead," she said. "Morpheus put the entire island of Manhattan to sleep,"

"The invasion has started," Percy added.

Mrs O'Leary was the only one happy about the sleeping city.

They found her pigging out at an overturned hot dog stand while the owner was curled up on the sidewalk sucking his thumb.

Argus was waiting for them with his hundred eyes wide open. He didn't say anything. He never does. Evangeline guessed it was because he supposedly had an eyeball on his tongue. But his face made it clear he was freaking out.

Percy told him what they'd learned in Olympus, and how the gods would not be coming to help. Argus rolled his eyes in disgust, which looked pretty psychedelic since it made his whole body swirl.

"You'd better get back to camp," the son of Poseidon told him. "Guard it as best you can."

The driver pointed at him and raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"I'm staying," Percy said.

Argus nodded like the answer satisfied him. He looked at Annabeth and drew a circle in the air with his finger.

"Yes," Annabeth agreed. "I think it's time."

"For what?" Percy asked.

Argus rummaged around in the back of his van. He brought out a bronze shield and passed it to Annabeth. It looked pretty much a standard issue—the same kind of round shield they always used in capture the flag. But when Annabeth set it on the ground, the reflection on the polished metal changed from the sky and buildings to the Statue of Liberty—which wasn't anywhere close to them.

"Whoa," Percy said. "A video shield."

"One of Daedalus's ideas," Annabeth said. "I had Beckendorf make this before—" She glanced at Silena. "Um, anyway, the shield bends sunlight or moonlight from anywhere in the world to create a reflection. You can literally see any target under the sun or moon, as long as natural light is touching it. Look."

They crowded around as Annabeth concentrated. The image zoomed and spun at first, so Evangeline got motion sickness just watching it. They were in the Central Park Zoo, then zooming down East 60th, past Bloomingdale's, then turning on Third Avenue.