The Titan's Curse

“Mr. D.” I tried to keep my voice calm as the grape vines continued to wrap around my legs. “What do you want?”

“Oh, what do I want? You thought, perhaps, that the immortal, all-powerful director of camp would not notice you leaving without permission?”

“Well . . . maybe.”

“I should throw you off this building, minus the flying horse, and see how heroic you sound on the way down.”

I balled my fists. I knew I should keep my mouth shut, but Mr. D was about to kill me or haul me back to camp in shame, and I couldn’t stand either idea. “Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you?”

Purple flames flickered in his eyes. “You’re a hero, boy. I need no other reason.”

“I have to go on this quest! I’ve got to help my friends. That’s something you wouldn’t understand!”

Um, boss, Blackjack said nervously. Seeing as how we’re wrapped in vines nine hundred feet in the air, you might want to talk nice.

The grape vines coiled tighter around me. Below us, the white van was getting farther and farther away. Soon it would be out of sight.

“Did I ever tell you about Ariadne?” Mr. D asked. “Beautiful young princess of Crete? She liked helping her friends, too. In fact, she helped a young hero named Theseus, also a son of Poseidon. She gave him a ball of magical yarn that let him find his way out of the Labyrinth.

And do you know how Theseus rewarded her?”

The answer I wanted to give was I don’t care! But I didn’t figure that would make Mr. D finish his story any faster.

“They got married,” I said. “Happily ever after. The end.”

Mr. D sneered. “Not quite. Theseus said he would marry her. He took her aboard his ship and sailed for Athens. Halfway back, on a little island called Naxos, he . . . What’s the word you mortals use today? . . . he dumped her. I found her there, you know. Alone. Heartbroken. Crying her eyes out. She had given up everything, left everything she knew behind, to help a dashing young hero who tossed her away like a broken sandal.”

“That’s wrong,” I said. “But that was thousands of years ago. What’s that got to do with me?”

Mr. D regarded me coldly. “I fell in love with Ariadne, boy. I healed her broken heart. And when she died, I made her my immortal wife in Olympus. She waits for me even now. I shall go back to her when I am done with this infernal century of punishment at your ridiculous camp.”

I stared at him. “You’re . . . you’re married? But I thought you got in trouble for chasing a wood nymph—”

“My point is you heroes never change. You accuse us gods of being vain. You should look at yourselves. You take what you want, use whoever you have to, and then you betray everyone around you. So you’ll excuse me if I have no love for heroes. They are a selfish, ungrateful lot. Ask Ariadne. Or Medea. For that matter, ask Zoë Nightshade.”

“What do you mean, ask Zoë?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Go. Follow your silly friends.”

The vines uncurled around my legs.

I blinked in disbelief. “You’re . . . you’re letting me go? Just like that?”

“The prophecy says at least two of you will die. Perhaps I’ll get lucky and you’ll be one of them. But mark my words, Son of Poseidon, live or die, you will prove no better than the other heroes.”

With that, Dionysus snapped his fingers. His image folded up like a paper display. There was a pop and he was gone, leaving a faint scent of grapes that was quickly blown away by the wind.

Too close, Blackjack said.

I nodded, though I almost would have been less worried if Mr. D had hauled me back to camp. The fact that he’d let me go meant he really believed we stood a fair chance of crashing and burning on this quest.

“Come on, Blackjack,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “I’ll buy you some donuts in New Jersey.”

As it turned out, I didn’t buy Blackjack donuts in New Jersey. Zoë drove south like a crazy person, and we were into Maryland before she finally pulled over at a rest stop. Blackjack darn near tumbled out of the sky, he was so tired. I’ll be okay, boss, he panted. Just . . . just catching my breath.

“Stay here,” I told him. “I’m going to scout.”

‘Stay here’ I can handle. I can do that.

I put on my cap of invisibility and walked over to the convenience store. It was difficult not to sneak. I had to keep reminding myself that nobody could see me. It was hard, too, because I had to remember to get out of people’s way so they wouldn’t slam into me.

I thought I’d go inside and warm up, maybe get a cup of hot chocolate or something. I had a little change in my pocket. I could leave it on the counter. I was wondering if the cup would turn invisible when I picked it up, or if I’d have to deal with a floating hot chocolate problem, when my whole plan was ruined by Zoë, Thalia, Bianca, and Grover all coming out of the store.

“Grover, are you sure?” Thalia was saying.

“Well . . . pretty sure. Ninety-nine percent. Okay, eighty-five percent.”

“And you did this with acorns?” Bianca asked, like she couldn’t believe it.

Grover looked offended. “It’s a time-honored tracking spell. I mean, I’m pretty sure I did it right.”

“D.C. is about sixty miles from here,” Bianca said. “Nico and I . . .” She frowned. “We used to live there. That’s . . . that’s strange. I’d forgotten.”

“I dislike this,” Zoë said. “We should go straight west. The prophecy said west.”

“Oh, like your tracking skills are better?” Thalia growled.

Zoë stepped toward her. “You challenge my skills, you scullion? You know nothing of being a Hunter!”

“Oh, scullion? You’re calling me a scullion? What the heck is a scullion?”

“Whoa, you two,” Grover said nervously. “Come on. Not again!”

“Grover’s right,” Bianca said. “D.C. is our best bet.”

Zoë didn’t look convinced, but she nodded reluctantly. “Very well. Let us keep moving.”

“You’re going to get us arrested, driving,” Thalia grumbled. “I look closer to sixteen than you do.”

“Perhaps,” Zoë snapped. “But I have been driving since automobiles were invented. Let us go.”

As Blackjack and I continued south, following the van, I wondered whether Zoë had been kidding. I didn’t know exactly when cars were invented, but I figured that was like prehistoric times—back when people watched black-and-white TV and hunted dinosaurs.

How old was Zoë? And what had Mr. D been talking about? What bad experience had she had with heroes?

As we got closer to Washington, Blackjack started slowing down and dropping altitude. He was breathing heavily.

“You okay?” I asked him.

Fine, boss. I could . . . I could take on an army.

“You don’t sound so good.” And suddenly I felt guilty, because I’d been ru

Don’t worry about me, boss! I’m a tough one.

I figured he was right, but I also figured Blackjack would run himself into the ground before he complained, and I didn’t want that.

Fortunately, the van started to slow down. It crossed the Potomac River into central Washington. I started thinking about air patrols and missiles and stuff like that. I didn’t know exactly how all those defenses worked, and wasn’t sure if pegasi even showed up on your typical military radar, but I didn’t want to find out by getting shot out of the sky.

“Set me down there,” I told Blackjack. “That’s close enough.”

Blackjack was so tired he didn’t complain. He dropped toward the Washington Monument and set me on the grass.

The van was only a few blocks away. Zoë had parked at the curb.

I looked at Blackjack. “I want you to go back to camp. Get some rest. Graze. I’ll be fine.”

Blackjack cocked his head skeptically. You sure, boss?