The Son of Natune

"I slowed them down," she said. "But they'll be here any second."

Frank cursed. "We have to get across the river."

June squeezed Percy's neck tighter. "Oh, yes, please. I can't get my dress wet."

Percy bit his tongue. If this lady was a goddess, she must've been the goddess of

smelly, heavy, useless hippies. But he'd come this far. He'd better keep lugging her along.

It's a kindness, she'd said. And if you don't, the gods will die, the world we know will

perish, and everyone from your old life will be destroyed.

If this was a test, he couldn't afford to get an F.

He stumbled a few times as they ran for the river. Frank and Hazel kept him on his

feet.

They reached the riverbank, and Percy stopped to catch his breath. The current was

fast, but the river didn't look deep. Only a stone's throw across stood the gates of the fort.

"Go, Hazel." Frank nocked two arrows at once. "Escort Percy so the sentries don't

shoot him. It's my turn to hold off the baddies."

Hazel nodded and waded into the stream.

Percy started to follow, but something made him hesitate. Usually he loved the water,

but this river seemed…powerful, and not necessarily friendly.

"The Little Tiber," said June sympathetically. "It flows with the power of the original

Tiber, river of the empire. This is your last chance to back out, child. The mark of Achilles

is a Greek blessing. You can't retain it if you cross into Roman territory. The Tiber will

wash it away."

Percy was too exhausted to undersJune chuckled. "All roads lead there, child. You should know that."

"Detention?" Percy asked.

"Rome, child," the old woman said. "Rome."

Percy wasn't sure he'd heard her right. True, his memory was gone. His brain hadn't

felt right since he had woken up at the Wolf House. But he was pretty sure Rome wasn't in

California.

They kept running. The glow at the end of the tunnel grew brighter, and finally they

burst into sunlight.

Percy froze. Spread out at his feet was a bowl-shaped valley several miles wide. The

basin floor was rumpled with smaller hills, golden plains, and stretches of forest. A small

clear rivercut a winding course from a lake in the center and around the perimeter, like a

capital G.

The geography could've been anywhere in northern California—live oaks and

eucalyptus trees, gold hills and blue skies. That big inland mountain—what was it called,

Mount Diablo?—rose in the distance, right where it should be.

But Percy felt like he'd stepped into a secret world. In the center of the valley, nestled

by the lake, was a small city of white marble buildings with red-tiled roofs. Some had

domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments. Others looked like palaces, with

golden doors and large gardens. He could see an open plaza with freestanding columns,

fountains, and statues. A five-story-tall Roman coliseum gleamed in the sun, next to a long

oval arena like a racetrack.

Across the lake to the south, another hill was dotted with even more imhe should probably kneel too, but after carrying the old lady so far, he didn't feel like

showing her that much respect.

"Juno, huh?" he said. "If I passed your test, can I have my memory and my life back?"

The goddess smiled. "In time, Percy Jackson, if you succeed here at camp. You've

done well today, which is a good start. Perhaps there's hope for you yet."

She turned to the other kids. "Romans, I present to you the son of Neptune. For

months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake. His fate is in your hands. The Feast

of Fortune comes quickly, and Death must be unleashed if you are to stand any hope in the

battle. Do not fail me!"

Juno shimmered and disappeared. Percy looked at Hazel and Frank for some kind of

explanation, but they seemed just as confused as he was. Frank was holding something

Percy hadn't noticed before—two small clay flasks with cork stoppers, like potions, one in

each hand. Percy had no idea where they'd come from, but he saw Frank slip them into his

pockets. Frank gave him a look like: We'll talk about it later.

The girl in the purple cloak stepped forward. She examined Percy warily, and Percy

couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted to run him through with her dagger.

"So," she said coldly, "a son of Neptune, who comes to us with the blessing of Juno."

"Look," he said, "my memory's a little fuzzy. Um, it's gone, actually. Do I know

you?"

The girl hesitated. "I am Reyna, praetor of the Twelfth Legion. And…no, I don't know

yoThe sentries yelled, but Percy knew they couldn't get a clear shot. They'd end up

killing Frank. The other kids drew swords and got ready to charge into the water, but

they'd be too late.

There was only one way.

Percy thrust out his hands. An intense tugging sensation filled his gut, and the Tiber

obeyed his will. The river surged. Whirlpools formed on either side of Frank. Giant watery

hands erupted from the stream, copying Percy's movements. The giant hands grabbed the

gorgons, who dropped Frank in surprise. Then the hands lifted the squawking monsters in

a liquid vise grip.

Percy heard the other kids yelping and backing away, but he stayed focused on his

task. He made a smashing gesture with his fists, and the giant hands plunged the gorgons

into the Tiber. The monsters hit bottom and broke into dust. Glittering clouds of gorgon

essence struggled to re-form, but the river pulled them apart like a blender. Soon every

trace of the gorgons was swept downstream. The whirlpools vanished, and the current

returned to normal.

Percy stood on the riverbank. His clothes and his skin steamed as if the Tiber's waters

had given him an acid bath. He felt exposed, raw…vulnerable.

In the middle of the Tiber, Frank stumbled around, looking stunned but perfectly fine.

Hazel waded out and helped him ashore. Only then did Percy realize how quiet the other

kids had become.

Everyone was staring at him. Only the old lady June looked unfazed.

"Well, that was a lovely trip," sworry about it."

He sounded pretty worried.

They stopped at the center of camp, where two wide stone-paved roads met at a T.

A street sign labeled the road to the main gates as via praetoria. The other road, cutting

across the middle of camp, was labeled via principalis. Under those markers were hand-

painted signs like berkeley 5 miles; NEW ROME 1 MILE; OLD ROME 7280 MILES; HADES 2310

MILES (pointing straight down); RENO 208 MILES, AND CERTAIN DEATH: YOU ARE HERE!

For certain death, the place looked pretty clean and orderly. The buildings were freshly

whitewashed, laid out in neat grids like the camp had been designed by a fussy math

teacher. The barracks had shady porches, where campers lounged in hammocks or played

cards and drank sodas. Each dorm had a different collection of banners out front

displaying Roman numerals and various animals—eagle, bear, wolf, horse, and something

that looked like a hamster.

Along the Via Praetoria, rows of shops advertised food, armor, weapons, coffee,

gladiator equipment, and toga rentals. A chariot dealership had a big advertisement out

front: CAESAR XLS W/ANTILOCK BRAKES, NO DENARII DOWN!

At one corner of the crossroads stood the most impressive building—a two-story

wedge of white marble with a columned portico like an old-fashioned bank. Roman

guards stood out front. Over the doorway hung a big purple banner with the gold letters

SPQR embroidered inside a laurel wreath.

"Your headquarters?" Percy asked.

Reyna facedPERCY WASN'T SCARED OF GHOSTS, which was lucky. Half the people in camp were dead.

Shimmering purple warriors stood outside the armory, polishing ethereal swords.

Others hung out in front of the barracks. A ghostly boy chased a ghostly dog down the

street. And at the stables, a big glowing red dude with the head of a wolf guarded a herd

of…Were those unicorns?

None of the campers paid the ghosts much attention, but as Percy's entourage walked

by, with Reyna in the lead and Frank and Hazel on either side, all the spirits stopped what

they were doing and stared at Percy. A few looked angry. The little boy ghost shrieked

something like "Greggus!" and turned invisible.

Percy wished he could turn invisible too. After weeks on his own, all this attention

made him uneasy. He stayed between Hazel and Frank and tried to look inconspicuous.

"Am I seeing things?" he asked. "Or are those—"

"Ghosts?" Hazel turned. She had startling eyes, like fourteen-karat gold. "They're

Lares. House gods."

"House gods," Percy said. "Like…smaller than real gods, but larger than apartment

gods?"

"They're ancestral spirits," Frank explained. He'd removed his helmet, revealing a

babyish face that didn't go with his military haircut or his big burly frame. He looked like

a toddler who'd taken steroids and joined the Marines.

"The Lares are kind of like mascots," he continued. "Mostlythey're harmless, but I've

never seen them so agitated."

"They're staring at me," Percy said. "That ghostat any moment. The worry lines around her eyes made her look older than she probably

was.

"We have met," he decided. "I don't remember when. Please, if you can tell me

anything—"

"First things first," Reyna said. "I want to hear your story. What do you remember?

How did you get here? And don't lie. My dogs don't like liars."

Argentum and Aurum snarled to emphasize the point.

Percy told his story—how he'd woken up at the ruined mansion in the woods of

Sonoma. He described his time with Lupa and her pack, learning their language of

gestures and expressions, learning to survive and fight.

Lupa had taught him about demigods, monsters, and gods. She'd explained that she

was one of the guardian spirits of Ancient Rome. Demigods like Percy were still

responsible for carrying on Roman traditions in modern times—fighting monsters, serving

the gods, protecting mortals, and upholding the memory of the empire. She'd spent weeks

training him, until he was as strong and tough and vicious as a wolf. When she was

satisfied with his skills, she'd sent him south, telling him that if he survived the journey,

he might find a new home and regain his memory.

None of it seemed to surprise Reyna. In fact, she seemed to find it pretty ordinary—

except for one thing.

"No memory at all?" she asked. "You still remember nothing?"

"Fuzzy bits and pieces." Percy glanced at the greyhounds. He didn't want to mention

Annabeth. It seemed too private, and he was still confused about where caused enough trouble this week."

Frank's ears turned red. He fiddled with a little tablet on a cord around his neck. Percy

hadn't paid much attention to it, but it looked like a name tag made out of lead.

"Go to the armory," Reyna told him. "Check our inventory. I'll call you if I need you."

"But—" Frank caught himself. "Yes, Reyna."

He hurried off.

Reyna waved Hazel and Percy toward the headquarters. "Now, Percy Jackson, let's see

if we can improve your memory."

The principia was even more impressive inside. On the ceiling glittered a mosaic of

Romulus and Remus under their adopted mama she-wolf (Lupa had told Percy that story a

million times). The floor was polished marble. The walls were draped in velvet, so Percy

felt like he was inside the world's most expensive camping tent. Along the back wall stood

a display of banners and wooden poles studded with bronze medals—military symbols,

Percy guessed. In the center was one empty display stand, as if the main banner had been

taken down for cleaning or something.

In the back corner, a stairwell led down. It was blocked by a row of iron bars like a

prison door. Percy wondered what was down there—monsters? Treasure? Amnesiac

demigods who had gotten on Reyna's bad side?

In the center of the room, a long wooden table was cluttered with scrolls, notebooks,

tablet computers, daggers, and a large bowl filled with jelly beans, which seemed kind of

out of place. Two life-sized statues of greyhounds—one silver, onebut then realized he'd never shown Reyna the sword. Hazel and Frank hadn't seen it

either. How had Reyna known about it?

Too late to pretend it didn't exist.…He uncapped the pen. Riptide sprang to full form.

Hazel gasped. The greyhounds barked apprehensively.

"What is that?" Hazel asked. "I've never seen a sword like that."

"I have," Reyna said darkly. "It's very old—a Greek design. We used to have a few in

the armory before…" She stopped herself. "The metal is called Celestial bronze. It's

deadly to monsters, like Imperial gold, but even rarer."

"Imperial gold?" Percy asked.

Reyna unsheathed her dagger. Sure enough, the blade was gold. "The metal was

consecrated in ancient times, at the Pantheon in Rome. Its existence was a closely guarded

secret of the emperors—a way for their champions to slay monsters that threatened the

empire. We used to have more weapons like this, but now…well, we scrape by. I use this

dagger. Hazel has a spatha, a cavalry sword. Most legionnaires use a shorter sword called

a gladius. But that weapon of yours is not Roman at all. It's another sign you're not a

typical demigod. And your arm…"

"What about it?" Percy asked.

Reyna held up her own forearm. Percy hadn't noticed before, but she had a tattoo on

the inside: the letters SPQR, a crossed sword and torch, and under that, four parallel lines

like score marks.

Percy glanced at Hazel.

"We all have them," she confirmed, holding up her arm. "All full members of the

legion do."

HReyna studied him. "You're old for a recruit. You're what, sixteen?"

"I think so," Percy said.

"If you spent that many years on your own, without training or help, you should be

dead. A son of Neptune? You'd have a powerful aura that would attract all kinds of

monsters."

"Yeah," Percy said. "I've been told that I smell."

Reyna almost cracked a smile, which gave Percy hope. Maybe she was human after

all.

"You must've been somewhere before the Wolf House," she said.

Percy shrugged. Juno had said something about him slumbering, and he did have a

vague feeling that he'd been asleep—maybe for a long time. But that didn't make sense.

Reyna sighed. "Well, the dogs haven't eaten you, so I suppose you're telling the truth."

"Great," Percy said. "Next time, can I take a polygraph?"

Reyna stood. She paced in front of the banners. Her metal dogs watched her go back

and forth.

"Even if I accept that you're not an enemy," she said, "you're not a typical recruit. The

Queen of Olympus simply doesn't appear at camp, announcing a new demigod. The last

time a major god visited us in person like that…" She shook her head. "I've only heard

legends about such things. And a son of Neptune…that's not a good omen. Especially

now."

"What's wrong with Neptune?" Percy asked. "And what do you mean, 'especially

now'?"

Hazel shot him a warning look.

Reyna kept pacing. "You've fought Medusa's sisters, who haven't been seen in

thousands of years. You've agitated our Lares, who are caON THE WAY OUT OF CAMP, Hazel bought him an espresso drink and a cherry muffin from

Bombilo the two-headed coffee merchant.

Percy inhaled the muffin. The coffee was great. Now, Percy thought, if he could just

get a shower, a change of clothes, and some sleep, he'd be golden. Maybe even Imperial

golden.

He watched a bunch of kids in swimsuits and towels head into a building that had

steam coming out of a row of chimneys. Laughter and watery sounds echoed from inside,

like it was an indoor pool—Percy's kind of place.

"Bath house," Hazel said. "We'll get you in there before dinner, hopefully. You

haven't lived until you've had a Roman bath." Percy sighed with anticipation.

As they approached the front gate, the barracks got bigger and nicer. Even the ghosts

looked better—with fancier armor and shinier auras. Percy tried to decipher the banners

and symbols hanging in front of the buildings.

"You guys are divided into different cabins?" he asked.

"Sort of." Hazel ducked as a kid riding a giant eagle swooped overhead. "We have five

cohorts of about forty kids each. Each cohort is divided into barracks of ten—like

roommates, kind of."

Percy had never been great at math, but he tried to multiply. "You're telling me there's

two hundred kids at camp?"

"Roughly."

"And all of them are children of the gods? The gods have been busy."

Hazel laughed. "Not all of them are children of majorgods. There are hundreds of

minor Roman gods. Plus, a lot of the campers are legacGrace, son of Jupiter, was our other praetor until he disappeared last October."

Percy tried to calculate. He hadn't paid much attention to the calendar out in the

wilderness, but Juno had mentioned that it was now June. "You mean he's been gone eight

months, and you haven't replaced him?"

"He might not be dead," Hazel said. "We haven't given up."

Reyna grimaced. Percy got the feeling this guy Jason might've been more to her than

just a colleague.

"Elections only happen in two ways," Reyna said. "Either the legion raises someone

on a shield after a major success on the battlefield—and we haven't had any major battles

—or we hold a ballot on the evening of June 24, at the Feast of Fortuna. That's in five

days."

Percy frowned. "You have a feast for tuna?"

"Fortuna," Hazel corrected. "She's the goddess of luck. Whatever happens on her

feast day can affect the entire rest of the year. She can grant the camp good luck…or really

bad luck."

Reyna and Hazel both glanced at the empty display stand, as if thinking about what

was missing.

A chill went down Percy's back. "The Feast of Fortune…The gorgons mentioned that.

So did Juno. They said the camp was going to be attacked on that day, something about a

big bad goddess named Gaea, and an army, and Death being unleashed. You're telling me

that day is this week?"

Reyna's fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger.

"You will say nothing about that outside this room," she ordered. "I will not have you

spreadinThe ghost's furry purple eyebrows shot up. "Mars Almighty! They let the probatio

check the armor? We'll be ruined!"

He stumbled off down the street, stopping every few feet to pick up his sword or

rearrange his toga.

"O-h-h-kay," Percy said.

"Sorry," Hazel said. "He's eccentric, but he's one of the oldest Lares. Been around

since the legion was founded."

"He called the legion…Fulminata?" Percy said.

"'Armed with Lightning,'" Hazel translated. "That's our motto. The Twelfth Legion

was around for the entire Roman Empire. When Rome fell, a lot of legions just

disappeared. We went underground, acting on secret orders from Jupiter himself: stay

alive, recruit demigods and their children, keep Rome going. We've been doing that ever

since, moving around to wherever Roman influence was strongest. The last few centuries,

we've been in America."

As bizarre as that sounded, Percy had no trouble believing it. In fact, it sounded

familiar, like something he'd always known.

"And you're in the Fifth Cohort," he guessed, "which maybe isn't the most popular?"

Hazel scowled. "Yeah. I joined up last September."

"So…just a few weeks before that guy Jason disappeared."

Percy knew he'd hit a sore spot. Hazel looked down. She was silent long enough to

count every paving stone.

"Come on," she said at last. "I'll show you my favorite view."

They stopped outside the main gates. The fort was situated on the highest point in the

valley, so they could see pretty much everything.

"Sometimes. Sometimes not. But they can be trained. All the best Roman generals and

emperors—you know, they all claimed to be descended from gods. Most of the time, they

were telling the truth. The camp augur we're going to meet, Octavian, he's a legacy,

descendant of Apollo. He's got the gift of prophecy, supposedly."

"Supposedly?"

Hazel made a sour face. "You'll see."

That didn't make Percy feel so great, if this dude Octavian had Percy's fate in his

hands.

"So the divisions," he asked, "the cohorts, whatever—you're divided according to who

your godly parent is?"

Hazel stared at him. "What a horrible idea! No, the officers decide where to assign

recruits. If we were divided according to god, the cohorts would be all uneven. I'd be

alone."

Percy felt a twinge of sadness, like he'd been in that situation. "Why? What's your

ancestry?"

Before she could answer, someone behind them yelled, "Wait!"

A ghost ran toward them—an old man with a medicine-ball belly and toga so long he

kept tripping on it. He caught up to them and gasped for air, his purple aura flickering

around him.

"This is him?" the ghost panted. "A new recruit for the Fifth, perhaps?"

"Vitellius," Hazel said, "we're sort of in a hurry."

The ghost scowled at Percy and walked around him, inspecting him like a used car. "I

don't know," he grumbled. "We need only the best for the cohort. Does he have all his

teeth? Can he fight? Does he clean stables?"

"Yes, yes, and no," Percy said. "Who are yo"Oh, that's cool! That's cool!" Don trotted along with them. "Hey, this guy's new!" He

grinned at Percy. "Do you have three denarii for the bus? Because I left my wallet at

home, and I've got to get to work, and—"

"Don," Hazel chided. "Fauns don't have wallets. Or jobs. Or homes. And we don't

have buses."

"Right," he said cheerfully, "but do you have denarii?"

"Your name is Don the Faun?" Percy asked.

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing." Percy tried to keep a straight face. "Why don't fauns have jobs? Shouldn't

they work for the camp?"

Don bleated. "Fauns! Work for the camp! Hilarious!"

"Fauns are, um, free spirits," Hazel explained. "They hang out here because, well, it's

a safe place to hang out and beg. We tolerate them, but—"

"Oh, Hazel is awesome," Don said. "She's so nice! All the other campers are like, 'Go

away, Don.' But she's like, 'Please go away, Don.' I love her!"

The faun seemed harmless, but Percy still found him unsettling. He couldn't shake the

feeling that fauns should be more than just homeless guys begging for denarii.

Don looked at the ground in front of them and gasped. "Score!"

He reached for something, but Hazel screamed, "Don, no!"

She pushed him out of the way and snatched up a small shiny object. Percy caught a

glimpse of it before Hazel slipped it into her pocket. He could have sworn it was a

diamond.

"Come on, Hazel," Don complained. "I could've bought a year's worth of doughnuts

with that!"

"Don, please," Hazel said. "Go away."

She sovalley is attacked?"

Hazel pursed her lips. "We have defenses. The borders are magical. But our strength

isn't what it used to be. Lately, the monster attacks have been increasing. What you said

about the gorgons not dying…we've noticed that too, with other monsters."

"Do you know what's causing it?"

Hazel looked away. Percy could tell that she was holding something back—something

she wasn't supposed to say.

"It's—it's complicated," she said. "My brother says Death isn't—"

She was interrupted by an elephant.

Someone behind them shouted, "Make way!"

Hazel dragged Percy out of the road as a demigod rode past on a full-grown

pachyderm covered in black Kevlar armor. The word elephant was printed on the side of

his armor, which seemed a little obvious to Percy.

The elephant thundered down the road and turned north, heading toward a big open

field where some fortifications were under construction.

Percy spit dust out of his mouth. "What the—?"

"Elephant," Hazel explained.

"Yeah, I read the sign. Why do you have an elephant in a bulletproof vest?"

"War games tonight," Hazel said. "That's Hannibal. If we didn't include him, he'd get

upset."

"We can't have that."

Hazel laughed. It was hard to believe she'd looked so moody a moment ago. Percy

wondered what she'd been about to say. She had a brother. Yet she had claimed she'd be

alone if the camp sorted her by her godly parent.

Percy couldn't figure her out. She seemed nice and easy going, mature for somebody

wHis voice cracked. He hadn't meant to get emotional, but he was exhausted and scared,

and he'd been lost for so long, he would've given anything for some guidance. He wanted

to know something about his life for sure, without grabbing for missing memories.

Hazel put her hand on his shoulder. "It'll be okay. You're here now. You're one of us."

He felt awkward, depending on an eighth-grade girl he barely knew for comfort, but

he was glad she was there.

Above them, thunder rumbled. Red lightning lit up the hill.

"Octavian's almost done," Hazel said. "Let's go."

Compared to Neptune's tool shed, Jupiter's temple was definitely optimus and maximus.

The marble floor was etched with fancy mosaics and Latin inscriptions. Sixty feet

above, the domed ceiling sparkled gold. The whole temple was open to the wind.

In the center stood a marble altar, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual

in front of a massive golden statue of the big dude himself: Jupiter the sky god, dressed in

a silk XXXL purple toga, holding a lightning bolt.

"It doesn't look like that," Percy muttered.

"What?" Hazel asked.

"The master bolt," Percy said.

"What are you talking about?"

"I—" Percy frowned. For a second, he'd thought he remembered something. Now it

was gone. "Nothing, I guess."

The kid at the altar raised his hands. More red lightning flashed in the sky, shaking the

temple. Then he put his hands down, and the rumbling stopped. The clouds turned from

gray to white and broke"Please tell me we're not going in there," Percy said.

Hazel shook her head. "That's the Temple of Mars Ultor."

"Mars … Ares, the war god?"

"That's his Greek name," Hazel said. "But, yeah, same guy. Ultor means 'the

Avenger.' He's the second-most important god of Rome."

Percy wasn't thrilled to hear that. For some reason, just looking at the ugly red

building made him feel angry.

He pointed toward the summit. Clouds swirled over the largest temple, a round

pavilion with a ring of white columns supporting a domed roof. "I'm guessing that's Zeus

—uh, I mean, Jupiter's? That's where we're heading?"

"Yeah." Hazel sounded edgy. "Octavian reads auguries there—the Temple of Jupiter

Optimus Maximus."

Percy had to think about it, but the Latin words clicked into English. "Jupiter…the

best and the greatest?"

"Right."

"What's Neptune's title?" Percy asked. "The coolest and most awesome?"

"Um, not quite." Hazel gestured to a small blue building the size of a toolshed. A

cobweb-covered trident was nailed above the door.

Percy peeked inside. On a small altar sat a bowl with three dried-up, moldy apples.

His heart sank. "Popular place."

"I'm sorry, Percy," Hazel said. "It's just…Romans were always scared of the sea. They

only used ships if they had to. Even in modern times, having a child of Neptune around

has always been a bad omen. The last time one joined the legion

…well, it was 1906, when Camp Jupiter was located across the bay in San Francisco.

There was this "—so we have only a few remaining scraps from the books," Octavian continued. "A

few mysterious predictions, like these."

He nodded to the inscriptions on the marble floor. Percy stared at the lines of words,

not really expecting to understand them. He almost choked.

"That one." He pointed, translating as he read aloud:"Seven half-bloods shall answer

the call. To storm or fire the world must fall—"

"Yes, yes." Octavian finished it without looking: "An oath to keep with a final breath,

and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

"I—I know that one." Percy thought thunder was shaking the temple again. Then he

realized his whole body was trembling. "That's important."

Octavian arched an eyebrow. "Of course it's important. We call it the Prophecy of

Seven, but it's several thousand years old. We don't know what it means. Every time

someone tries to interpret it…Well, Hazel can tell you. Bad things happen."

Hazel glared at him. "Just read the augury for Percy. Can he join the legion or not?"

Percy could almost see Octavian's mind working, calculating whether or not Percy

would be useful. He held out his hand for Percy's backpack. "That's a beautiful specimen.

May I?"

Percy didn't understand what he meant, but Octavian snatched the Bargain Mart panda

pillow that was sticking out of the top of his pack. It was just a silly stuffed toy, but Percy

had carried it a long way. He was kind of fond of it. Octavian turned toward the altar and

raised his knife.

"Hey!" Penoticed that there was a whole pile of mutilated stuffed animals at the foot of Jupiter's

statue.

"Seriously?" Percy asked.

Octavian stepped off the dais. He was probably about eighteen, but so skinny and

sickly pale, he could've passed for younger. At first he looked harmless, but as he got

closer, Percy wasn't so sure. Octavian's eyes glittered with harsh curiosity, like he might

gut Percy just as easily as a teddy bear if he thought he could learn something from it.

Octavian narrowed his eyes. "You seem nervous."

"You remind me of someone," Percy said. "I can't remember who."

"Possibly my namesake, Octavian—Augustus Caesar. Everyone says I bear a

remarkable resemblance."

Percy didn't think that was it, but he couldn't pin down the memory. "Why did you

call me 'the Greek'?"

"I saw it in the auguries." Octavian waved his knife at the pile of stuffing on the altar.

"The message said: The Greek has arrived. Or possibly: The goose has cried. I'm thinking

the first interpretation is correct. You seek to join the legion?"

Hazel spoke for him. She told Octavian everything that had happened since they met at

the tunnel—the gorgons, the fight at the river, the appearance of Juno, their conversation

with Reyna.

When she mentioned Juno, Octavian looked surprised.

"Juno," he mused. "We call her Juno Moneta. Juno the Warner. She appears in times of

crisis, to counsel Rome about great threats."

He glanced at Percy, as if to say: like mysterious Greeks, for instance.....