claimed |PERCY JACKSON| [book 5]

II

BECKENDORF LED THE WAY. They followed a narrow corridor to the service stairwell, just like they'd practiced, but the trio froze when they heard noises above them.

"I don't care what your nose says!" snarled a half-human, half-dog voice—a telkhine. "The last time you smelled half-blood, it turned out to be a meatloaf sandwich!"

"Meatloaf sandwiches are good!" a second voice snarled. "But this is half-blood scent, I swear. They are on board!"

"Bah, your brain isn't on board!"

They continued to argue, and Beckendorf pointed downstairs. The three descended as quietly as they could. Two floors down, the voices of the telkhines started to fade.

Finally, they came to a metal hatch. Beckendorf mouthed the words "engine room."

It was locked, but Beckendorf pulled some chain cutters out of his bag and split the bolt like it was made of butter.

Inside, a row of yellow turbines the size of grain silos churned and hummed. Pressure gauges and computer terminals lined the opposite wall. A telkhine was hunched over a console, but he was so involved with his work, he didn't notice them. He was about five feet tall, with slick black seal fur and stubby little feet. He had the head of a Doberman, but his clawed hands were almost human. He growled and muttered as he tapped on his keyboard. Maybe he was messaging his friends on uglyface.com.

Percy stepped forward, and the telkhine tensed, probably smelling something was wrong. He leaped sideways toward a big red alarm button, but Percy blocked his path. He hissed and lunged at Percy, but one slice of Riptide, and he exploded into dust.

"One down," Beckendorf said. "About five thousand to go." He tossed Selena and Percy a jar of thick green liquid—Greek fire, one of the most dangerous magical substances in the world. Then he threw her another essential tool of demigod heroes—duct tape.

"Slap that one on the console," he said. "I'll get the turbines."

They went to work. The room was hot and humid, and in no time they were drenched in sweat.

Selena had just attached a second jar of Greek fire to the control panels when she heard the pounding of feet on metal steps—so many creatures coming down the stairwell Selena could hear them over the engines. Not a good sign.

Percy locked eyes with Beckendorf. "How much longer?"

"Too long." He tapped his watch, which was our remote control detonator. "I still have to wire the receiver and prime the charges. Ten more minutes at least."

Judging from the sound of the footsteps, they had about ten seconds.

"I'll distract them," Percy said. "Meet you at the rendezvous point."

"Percy—"

"Wish me luck."

Selena and Charles wanted to argue. The whole idea had been to get in and out without being spotted. But they were going to have to improvise.