The Titan's Curse

The lion seemed to be melting, the way dead monsters do sometimes, until there was nothing left but its glittering fur coat, and even that seemed to be shrinking to the size of a normal lion’s pelt.

“Take it,” Zoë told me.

I stared at her. “What, the lion’s fur? Isn’t that, like, an animal rights violation or something?”

“It is a spoil of war,” she told me. “It is rightly thine.”

“You killed it,” I said.

She shook her head, almost smiling. “I think thy ice-cream sandwich did that. Fair is fair, Percy Jackson. Take the fur.”

I lifted it up; it was surprisingly light. The fur was smooth and soft. It didn’t feel at all like something that could stop a blade. As I watched, the pelt shifted and changed into a coat—a full-length golden-brown duster.

“Not exactly my style,” I murmured.

“We have to get out of here,” Grover said. “The security guards won’t stay confused for long.”

I noticed for the first time how strange it was that the guards hadn’t rushed forward to arrest us. They were scrambling in all directions except ours, like they were madly searching for something. A few were ru

“You did that?” I asked Grover.

He nodded, looking a little embarrassed. “A minor confusion song. I played some Barry Manilow. It works every time. But it’ll only last a few seconds.”

“The security guards are not our biggest worry,” Zoë said. “Look.”

Through the glass walls of the museum, I could see a group of men walking across the lawn. Gray men in gray camouflage outfits. They were too far away for us to see their eyes, but I could feel their gaze aimed straight at me.

“Go,” I said. “They’ll be hunting me. I’ll distract them.”

“No,” Zoë said. “We go together.”

I stared at her. “But, you said—”

“You are part of this quest now,” Zoë said grudgingly. “I do not like it, but there is no changing fate. You are the fifth quest member. And we are not leaving anyone behind.”

ELEVEN

GROVER GETS A LAMBORGHINI

We were crossing the Potomac when we spotted the helicopter. It was a sleek, black military model just like the one we’d seen at Westover Hall. And it was coming straight toward us.

“They know the van,” I said. “We have to ditch it.”

Zoë swerved into the fast lane. The helicopter was gaining.

“Maybe the military will shoot it down,” Grover said hopefully.

“The military probably thinks it’s one of theirs,” I said. “How can the General use mortals, anyway?”

“Mercenaries,” Zoë said bitterly. “It is distasteful, but many mortals will fight for any cause as long as they are paid.”

“But don’t these mortals see who they’re working for?” I asked. “Don’t they notice all the monsters around them?”

Zoë shook her head. “I do not know how much they see through the Mist. I doubt it would matter to them if they knew the truth. Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters.”

The helicopter kept coming, making a lot better time than we were through D.C. traffic.

Thalia closed her eyes and prayed hard. “Hey, Dad. A lightning bolt would be nice about now. Please?”

But the sky stayed gray and snowy. No sign of a helpful thunderstorm.

“There!” Bianca said. “That parking lot!”

“We’ll be trapped,” Zoë said.

“Trust me,” Bianca said.

Zoë shot across two lanes of traffic and into a mall parking lot on the south bank of the river. We left the van and followed Bianca down some steps.

“Subway entrance,” Bianca said. “Let’s go south. Alexandria.”

“Anything,” Thalia agreed.

We bought tickets and got through the turnstiles, looking behind us for any signs of pursuit. A few minutes later we were safely aboard a southbound train, riding away from D.C. As our train came above ground, we could see the helicopter circling the parking lot, but it didn’t come after us.

Grover let out a sigh. “Nice job, Bianca, thinking of the subway.”

Bianca looked pleased. “Yeah, well. I saw that station when Nico and I came through last summer. I remember being really surprised to see it, because it wasn’t here when we used to live in D.C.”

Grover frowned. “New? But that station looked really old.”

“I guess,” Bianca said. “But trust me, when we lived here as little kids, there was no subway.” Thalia sat forward. “Wait a minute. No subway at all?”

Bianca nodded.

Now, I knew nothing about D.C., but I didn’t see how their whole subway system could be less than twelve years old. I guess everyone else was thinking the same thing, because they looked pretty confused.

“Bianca,” Zoë said. “How long ago . . .” Her voice faltered. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder again.

“We need to change trains,” I said. “Next station.”

Over the next half hour, all we thought about was getting away safely. We changed trains twice. I had no idea where we were going, but after a while we lost the helicopter.

Unfortunately, when we finally got off the train we found ourselves at the end of the line, in an industrial area with nothing but warehouses and railway tracks. And snow. Lots of snow. It seemed much colder here. I was glad for my new lion’s fur coat.

We wandered through the railway yard, thinking there might be another passenger train somewhere, but there were just rows and rows of freight cars, most of which were covered in snow, like they hadn’t moved in years.

A homeless guy was standing at a trash-can fire. We must’ve looked pretty pathetic, because he gave us a toothless grin and said, “Y’all need to get warmed up? Come on over!”

We huddled around his fire. Thalia’s teeth were chattering. She said, “Well this is g-g-g-great.”

“My hooves are frozen,” Grover complained.

“Feet,” I corrected, for the sake of the homeless guy.

“Maybe we should contact camp,” Bianca said. “Chiron—”

“No,” Zoë said. “They ca

I gazed miserably around the rail yard. Somewhere, far to the west, A

“You know,” the homeless man said, “you’re never completely without friends.” His face was grimy and his beard tangled, but his expression seemed kindly. “You kids need a train going west?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “You know of any?”

He pointed one greasy hand.

Suddenly I noticed a freight train, gleaming and free of snow. It was one of those automobile-carrier trains, with steel mesh curtains and a triple-deck of cars inside. The side of the freight train said SUN WEST LINE.

“That’s . . . convenient,” Thalia said. “Thanks, uh . . .”

She turned to the homeless guy, but he was gone. The trash can in front of us was cold and empty, as if he’d taken the flames with him.

An hour later we were rumbling west. There was no problem about who would drive now, because we all got our own luxury car. Zoë and Bianca were crashed out in a Lexus on the top deck. Grover was playing race car driver behind the wheel of a Lamborghini. And Thalia had hot-wired the radio in a black Mercedes SLK so she could pick up the altrock stations from D.C.

“Join you?” I asked her.

She shrugged, so I climbed into the shotgun seat.

The radio was playing the White Stripes. I knew the song because it was one of the only CDs I owned that my mom liked. She said it reminded her of Led Zeppelin. Thinking about my mom made me sad, because it didn’t seem likely I’d be home for Christmas. I might not live that long.

“Nice coat,” Thalia told me.

I pulled the brown duster around me, thankful for the warmth. “Yeah, but the Nemean Lion wasn’t the monster we’re looking for.”