The son of Netune

he'd been caught in a searchlight.

"This is Percy Jackson," Hazel said. "He's a good guy. Percy, this is my brother, the

son of Pluto."

The boy regained his composure and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you," he said.

"I'm Nico di Angelo."harp, the symbol of Apollo.

"After all," Octavian told Hazel, "I might be able to help you. It would be a shame if

those awful rumors about you kept circulating…or, gods forbid, if they turned out to be

true."

Percy slipped his hand into his pocket and grabbed his pen. This guy was blackmailing

Hazel. That was obvious. One sign from Hazel, and Percy was ready to bust out Riptide

and see how Octavian liked being at the other end of a blade.

Hazel took a deep breath. Her knuckles were white. "I'll think about it."

"Excellent," Octavian said. "By the way, your brother is here."

Hazel stiffened. "My brother? Why?"

Octavian shrugged. "Why does your brother do anything? He's waiting for you at your

father's shrine. Just…ah, don't invite him to stay too long. He has a disturbing effect on

the others. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to keep searching for our poor lost friend,

Jason. Nice to meet you, Percy."

Hazel stormed out of the pavilion, and Percy followed. He was sure he'd never been so

glad to leave a temple in his life.

As Hazel marched down the hill, she cursed in Latin. Percy didn't understand all of it, but

he got son of a gorgon, power-hungry snake, and a few choice suggestions about where

Octavian could stick his knife.

"I hate that guy," she muttered in English. "If I had my way—"

"He won't really get elected praetor, will he?" Percy asked.

"I wish I could be certain. Octavian has a lot of friends, most of them bought. The rest

of the campers areotherwise?

Hazel forced herself to speak. "Um…Percy's lost his memory." She told her brother

what had happened since Percy had arrived at the gates.

"So, Nico…" she continued carefully, "I thought…you know, you travel all over.

Maybe you've met demigods like Percy before, or…"

Nico's expression turned as dark as Tartarus. Hazel didn't understand why, but she got

the message: Drop it.

"This story about Gaea's army," Nico said. "You warned Reyna?"

Percy nodded. "Who is Gaea, anyway?"

Hazel's mouth went dry. Just hearing that name…It was all she could do to keep her

knees from buckling. She remembered a woman's soft sleepy voice, a glowing cave, and

feeling her lungs fill with black oil.

"She's the earth goddess." Nico glanced at the ground as if it might be listening. "The

oldest goddess of all. She's in a deep sleep most of the time, but she hates the gods and

their children."

"Mother Earth…is evil?" Percy asked.

"Very," Nico said gravely. "She convinced her son, the Titan Kronos—um, I mean,

Saturn—to kill his dad, Uranus, and take over the world. The Titans ruled for a long time.

Then the Titans' children, the Olympian gods, overthrew them."

"That story seems familiar," Percy sounded surprised, like an old memory had

partially surfaced. "But I don't think I ever heard the part about Gaea."

Nico shrugged. "She got mad when the gods took over. She took a new husband—

Tartarus, the spirit of the abyss—and gave birth to a race of giants. They tried to destrHAZEL FELT LIKE SHE'D JUST INTRODUCED two nuclear bombs. Now she was waiting to see

which one exploded first.

Until that morning, her brother Nico had been the most powerful demigod she knew.

The others at Camp Jupiter saw him as a traveling oddball, about as harmless as the fauns.

Hazel knew better. She hadn't grown up with Nico, hadn't even known him very long. But

she knew Nico was more dangerous than Reyna, or Octavian, or maybe even Jason.

Then she'd met Percy.

At first, when she saw him stumbling up the highway with the old lady in his arms,

Hazel had thought he might be a god in disguise. Even though he was beat up, dirty, and

stooped with exhaustion, he'd had an aura of power. He had the good looks of a Roman

god, with sea-green eyes and wind blown black hair.

She'd ordered Frank not to fire on him. She thought the gods might be testing them.

She'd heard myths like that: a kid with an old lady begs for shelter, and when the rude

mortals refuse—boom, they get turned into banana slugs.

Then Percy had controlled the river and destroyed the gorgons. He'd turned a pen into

a bronze sword. He'd stirred up the whole camp with talk about the graecus.

A son of the sea god…

Long ago, Hazel had been told that a descendant of Neptune would save her. But could

Percy really take away her curse? It seemed too much to hope for.

Percy and Nico shook hands. They studied each other warily, and Hazel fought the

urge to run. If these two busted out the magic swords, tUh-oh, Hazel thought. She tried not to look anxious.

"That's—that's a good idea," she managed. "Go ahead, guys. We'll catch up."

Percy looked at Nico one more time, as though he was still trying to place a memory.

"I'd like to talk with you some more. I can't shake the feeling—"

"Sure," Nico agreed. "Later. I'll be staying overnight."

"You will?" Hazel blurted. The campers were going to love that—the son of Neptune

and the son of Pluto arriving on the same day. Now all they needed was some black cats

and broken mirrors.

"Go on, Percy," Nico said. "Settle in." He turned to Hazel, and she got the sense that

the worst part of her day was yet to come. "My sister and I need to talk."

"You know him, don't you," Hazel said.

They sat on the roof of Pluto's shrine, which was covered with bones and diamonds.

As far as Hazel knew, the bones had always been there. The diamonds were her fault. If

she sat anywhere too long, or just got anxious, they started popping up all around her like

mushrooms after a rain. Several million dollars' worth of stones glittered on the roof, but

fortunately the other campers wouldn't touch them. They knew better than to steal from

temples—especially Pluto's—and the fauns never came up here.

Hazel shuddered, remembering her close call with Don that afternoon. If she hadn't

moved quickly and snatched that diamond off the road…She didn't want to think about it.

She didn't need another death on her conscience.

Nico swung his feet like a litthan children of Neptune. We're bad luck."

"They let Hazel stay here," Percy noted.

"That's different," Nico said.

"Why?"

"Percy," Hazel cut in, "look, the giants aren't the worst problem. Even … even Gaea

isn't the worst problem. The thing you noticed about the gorgons, how they wouldn't die,

that's our biggest worry." She looked at Nico. She was getting dangerously close to her

own secret now, but for some reason Hazel trusted Percy. Maybe because he was also an

outsider, maybe because he'd saved Frank at the river. He deserved to know what they

were facing.

"Nico and I," she said carefully, "we think that what's happening is…Death isn't—"

Before she could finish, a shout came from down the hill.

Frank jogged toward them, wearing his jeans, purple camp shirt, and denim jacket. His

hands were covered with grease from cleaning weapons.

As it did every time she saw Frank, Hazel's heart performed a little skip-beat tap-

dance—which really irritated her. Sure, he was a good friend—one of the only people at

camp who didn't treat her as if she had a contagious disease. But she didn't like him in

that way.

He was three years older than she was, and he wasn't exactly Prince Charming, with

that strange combination of baby face and bulky wrestler's body. He looked like a cuddly

koala bear with muscles. The fact that everyone always tried to pair them up—the two

biggest losers at camp! You guys are perfect for each other—just made Hazel more

determined not to likHAZEL WAS WALKING HOME ALONE from the riding stables. Despite the cold evening, she

was buzzing with warmth. Sammy had just kissed her on the cheek.

The day had been full of ups and downs. Kids at school had teased her about her

mother, calling her a witch and a lot of other names. That had been going on for a long

time, of course, but it was getting worse. Rumors were spreading about Hazel's curse. The

school was called St. Agnes Academy for Colored Children and Indians, a name that

hadn't changed in a hundred years. Just like its name, the place masked a whole lot of

cruelty under a thin veneer of kindness.

Hazel didn't understand how other black kids could be so mean. They should've

known better, since they themselves had to put up with name-calling all the time. But they

yelled at her and stole her lunch, always asking for those famous jewels: "Where's those

cursed diamonds, girl? Gimme some or I'll hurt you!" They pushed her away at the water

fountain, and threw rocks at her if she tried to approach them on the playground.

Despite how horrible they were, Hazel never gave them diamonds or gold. She didn't

hate anyone that much. Besides, she had one friend—Sammy—and that was enough.

Sammy liked to joke that he was the perfect St. Agnes student. He was Mexican

American, so he considered himself colored and Indian. "They should give me a double

scholarship," he said.

He wasn't big or strong, but he had a crazy smile and he made Hazel laugh.

That afternoon"Nothing about this is right," Hazel said. "If they find out the truth about me—"

"They won't," Nico promised. "They'll call a quest soon. They have to. You'll make

me proud. Trust me, Bi—"

He caught himself, but Hazel knew what he'd almost called her: Bianca. Nico's real

sister—the one he'd grown up with. Nico might care about Hazel, but she'd never be

Bianca. Hazel was the simply the next best thing Nico could manage—a consolation prize

from the Underworld.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Hazel's mouth tasted like metal, as if gold nuggets were popping up under her tongue.

"Then it's true about Death? Is Alcyoneus to blame?"

"I think so," Nico said. "It's getting bad in the Underworld. Dad's going crazy trying

to keep things under control. From what Percy said about the gorgons, things are getting

worse up here, too. But look, that's why you're here. All that stuff in your past—you can

make something good come out of it.

You belong at Camp Jupiter."

That sounded so ridiculous, Hazel almost laughed. She didn't belong in this place. She

didn't even belong in this century.

She should have known better than to focus on the past, but she remembered the day

when her old life had been shattered. The blackout hit her so suddenly, she didn't even

have time to say, Uh-oh. She shifted back in time. Not a dream or a vision. The memory

washed over her with such perfect clarity, she felt she was actually there.

Her most recent birthday. She'd just turned thirteen. But not lasbut not ever when she was by herself. Queen Marie had always told Hazel her gris-gris

was "bunk and hokum." She didn't really believe in charms or fortune telling or ghosts.

She was just a performer, like a singer or an actress, doing a show for money.

But Hazel knew her mother did believe in some magic. Hazel's curse wasn't hokum.

Queen Marie just didn't want to think it was her fault—that somehow she had made Hazel

the way she was.

"It was your blasted father," Queen Marie would grumble in her darker moods.

"Coming here in his fancy silver-and black suit. The one time I actually summon a spirit,

and what do I get? Fulfills my wish and ruins my life. I should've been a real queen. It's

his fault you turned out this way."

She would never explain what she meant, and Hazel had learned not to ask about her

father. It just made her mother angrier.

As Hazel watched, Queen Marie muttered something to herself. Her face was calm and

relaxed. Hazel was struck by how beautiful she looked, without her scowl and the creases

in her brow. She had a lush mane of gold-brown hair like Hazel's, and the same dark

complexion, brown as a roasted coffee bean. She wasn't wearing the fancy saffron robes

or gold bangles she wore to impress clients—just a simple white dress. Still, she had a

regal air, sitting straight and dignified in her gilded chair as if she really were a queen.

"You'll be safe there," she murmured. "Far from the gods."

Hazel stifled a scream. The voice coming birthday candle, which had gotten smashed on the ride but was still the sweetest thing

Hazel had ever seen. They broke it in half and shared it.

Sammy talked about the war. He wished he were old enough to go. He asked Hazel if

she would write him letters if he were a soldier going overseas.

"'Course, dummy," she said.

He grinned. Then, as if moved by a sudden impulse, he lurched forward and kissed her

on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Hazel."

It wasn't much. Just one kiss, and not even on the lips. But Hazel felt like she was

floating. She hardly remembered the ride back to the stables, or telling Sammy good-bye.

He said, "See you tomorrow," like he always did. But she would never see him again.

By the time she got back to the French Quarter, it was getting dark. As she approached

home, her warm feeling faded, replaced by dread.

Hazel and her mother—Queen Marie, she liked to be called—lived in an old apartment

above a jazz club. Despite the beginning of the war, there was a festive mood in the air.

New recruits would roam the streets, laughing and talking about fighting the Japanese.

They'd get tattoos in the parlors or propose to their sweethearts right on the sidewalk.

Some would go upstairs to Hazel's mother to have their fortunes read or to buy charms

from Marie Levesque, the famous grisgris queen.

"Did you hear?" one would say. "Two bits for this good-luck charm. I took it to a guy I

know, and he says it's a real silver nugget. Worth twenty dollars! Thatspeak with your mother. Happy birthday, Hazel."

He turned and headed up the stairs—just like that, as if he'd checked Hazel off his "to

do" list and had already forgotten her. Happy birthday. Go draw a picture. See you in

another thirteen years.

She was so stunned, so angry, so upside-down confused that she just stood paralyzed

at the base of the steps. She wanted to throw down the colored pencils and stomp on them.

She wanted to charge after Pluto and kick him. She wanted to run away, find Sammy, steal

a horse, leave town and never come back. But she didn't do any of those things.

Above her, the apartment door opened, and Pluto stepped inside.

Hazel was still shivering from his cold touch, but she crep tup the stairs to see what he

would do. What would he say to Queen Marie? Who would speak back—Hazel's mother,

or that awful voice?

When she reached the doorway, Hazel heard arguing. She peeked in. Her mother

seemed back to normal—screaming and angry, throwing things around the parlor while

Pluto tried to reason with her.

"Marie, it's insanity," he said. "You'll be far beyond my power to protect you."

"Protect me?" Queen Marie yelled. "When have you ever protected me?"

Pluto's dark suit shimmered, as if the souls trapped in the fabric were getting agitated.

"You have no idea," he said. "I've kept you alive, you and the child. My enemies are

everywhere among gods and men. Now with the war on, it will only get worse. You must

stay where I can—"

"The police like cold milk. He had a flap of greasy black hair. His smile was kind enough, but his eyes

were fiery and angry, full of mad power. Hazel had seen that look in the newsreels at the

movie theater. This man looked like that awful Adolf Hitler. He had no mustache, but

otherwise he could've been Hitler's twin—or his father.

Hazel tried to pull away. Even when the man let go, she couldn't seem to move. His

eyes froze her in place.

"Hazel Levesque," he said in a melancholy voice. "You've grown."

Hazel started to tremble. At the base of the stairs, the cement stoop cracked under the

man's feet. A glittering stone popped up from the concrete like the earth had spit out a

watermelon seed. The man looked at it, unsurprised. He bent down.

"Don't!" Hazel cried. "It's cursed!"

He picked up the stone—a perfectly formed emerald. "Yes, it is. But not to me. So

beautiful…worth more than this building, I imagine." He slipped the emerald in his

pocket. "I'm sorry for your fate, child. I imagine you hate me."

Hazel didn't understand. The man sounded sad, as if he were personally responsible

for her life. Then the truth hither: a spirit in silver and black, who'd fulfilled her mother's

wishes and ruined her life.

Her eyes widened. "You? You're my…"

He cupped his hand under her chin. "I am Pluto. Life is never easy for my children,

but you have a special burden. Now that you're thirteen, we must make provisions—"

She pushed his hand away.

"You did this to me?" she demanded. "You'll be fine," he promised. "You'll have friends this time. Percy Jackson—he's got

a role to play in this. You can sense that, can't you? He's a good person to have at your

side."

Hazel remembered what Pluto told her long ago: A descendant of Neptune will wash

away your curse and give you peace.

Was Percy the one? Maybe, but Hazel sensed it wouldn't be so easy. She wasn't sure

even Percy could survive what was waiting in the north.

"Where did he come from?" she asked. "Why do the ghosts call him the Greek?"

Before Nico could respond, horns blew across the river. The legionnaires were

gathering for evening muster.

"We'd better get down there," Nico said. "I have a feeling tonight's war games are

going to be interesting."Queen Marie closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. Hazel was afraid the strange

voice might possess her again. But when she spoke, she was her regular self.

"Hazel," she snapped, "come out from behind that door."

Trembling, Hazel obeyed. She clutched the sketchpad and colored pencils to her chest.

Her mother studied her like she was a bitter disappointment. A poisoned child, the

voices had said.

"Pack a bag," she ordered. "We're moving."

"Wh-where?" Hazel asked.

"Alaska," Queen Marie answered. "You're going to make yourself useful. We're going

to start a new life."

The way her mother said that, it sounded as if they were going to create a "new life"

for someone else—or something else.

"What did Pluto mean?" Hazel asked. "Is he really my father? He said you made a

wish—"

"Go to your room!" her mother shouted. "Pack!"

Hazel fled, and suddenly she was ripped out of the past.

Nico was shaking her shoulders. "You did it again."

Hazel blinked. They were still sitting on the roof of Pluto's shrine. The sun was lower

in the sky. More diamonds had surfaced around her, and her eyes stung from crying.

"S-sorry," she murmured.

"Don't be," Nico said. "Where were you?"

"My mother's apartment. The day we moved."

Nico nodded. He understood her history better than most people could. He was also a

kid from the 1940s. He'd been born only a few years after Hazel, and had been locked

away in a magic hotel for decades. But Hazel's past was much worse than Nico's. She'd

into the earth. It sank so deep, nothing was left but a scar of fresh dirt.

Nico's eyes widened. "That was…terrifying."

Hazel didn't think it was so impressive compared to the powers of a guy who could

reanimate skeletons and bring people back from the dead, but it felt good to surprise him

for a change.

Inside the camp, horns blew again. The cohorts would be starting roll call, and Hazel

had no desire to be sewn into a sack of weasels.

"Hurry!" she told Nico, and they ran for the gates.

The first time Hazel had seen the legion assemble, she'd been so intimidated, she'd almost

slunk back to the barracks to hide. Even after being at camp for nine months, she still

found it an impressive sight.

The first four cohorts, each forty kids strong, stood in rows in front of their barracks

on either side of the Via Praetoria. The Fifth Cohort assembled at the very end, in front of

the principia, since their barracks were tucked in the back corner of camp next to the

stables and the latrines. Hazel had to run right down the middle of the legion to reach her

place.

The campers were dressed for war. Their polished chain mail and greaves gleamed

over purple T-shirts and jeans. Sword-and-skull designs decorated their helmets. Even

their leather combat boots looked ferocious with their iron cleats, great for marching

through mud or stomping on faces.

In front of the legionnaires, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold

shields, each the size of a refrigeON THE WAY BACK, HAZEL TRIPPED OVER A GOLD BAR.

She should have known not to run so fast, but she was afraid of being late for muster.

The Fifth Cohort had the nicest centurions in camp. Still, even they would have to punish

her if she was tardy. Roman punishments were harsh: scrubbing the streets with a

toothbrush, cleaning the bull pens at the coliseum, getting sewn inside a sack full of angry

weasels and dumped into the Little Tiber—the options were not great.

The gold bar popped out of the ground just in time for her foot to hit it. Nico tried to

catch her, but she took a spill and scraped her hands.

"You okay?" Nico knelt next to her and reached for the bar of gold.

"Don't!" Hazel warned.

Nico froze. "Right. Sorry. It's just…jeez. That thing is huge." He pulled a flask of

nectar from his aviator jacket and poured a little on Hazel's hands. Immediately the cuts

started to heal. "Can you stand?"

He helped her up. They both stared at the gold. It was the size of a bread loaf, stamped

with a serial number and the words u.s. treasury.

Nico shook his head. "How in Tartarus—?"

"I don't know," Hazel said miserably. "It could've been buried there by robbers or

dropped off a wagon a hundred years ago. Maybe it migrated from the nearest bank vault.

Whatever's in the ground, anywhere close to me—it just pops up. And the more valuable

it is—"

"The more dangerous it is." Nico frowned. "Should we cover it up? If the fauns find

it…"

Hazel imagined a mushroom cloudPercy shifted. "Letters? Um, no."

Octavian wrinkled his nose.

Unfair! Hazel wanted to shout. Percy had carried a goddess into camp. What better

recommendation could you want?

But Octavian's family had been sending kids to camp for over a century. He loved

reminding recruits that they were less important than he was.

"No letters," Octavian said regretfully. "Will any legionnaires stand for him?"

"I will!" Frank stepped forward. "He saved my life!"

Immediately there were shouts of protest from the other cohorts. Reyna raised her

hand for quiet and glared at Frank.

"Frank Zhang," she said, "for the second time today, I remind you that you are on

probatio. Your godly parent has not even claimed you yet. You're not eligible to stand for

another camper until you've earned your first stripe."

Frank looked like he might die of embarrassment.

Hazel couldn't leave him hanging. She stepped out of line and said, "What Frank

means is that Percy saved both our lives. I am a full member of the legion. I will stand for

Percy Jackson."

Frank glanced at her gratefully, but the other campers started to mutter. Hazel was

barely eligible. She'd only gotten her stripe a few weeks ago, and the "act of valor" that

earned it for her had been mostly an accident. Besides, she was a daughter of Pluto, and a

member of the disgraced Fifth Cohort. She wasn't doing Percy much of a favor by giving

him her support.

Reyna wrinkled her nose, but she turned to Octavian. The augur smiled anseventeen-year-old guy named Dakota, was just calling her name—the last one on the roll.

"Present!" she squeaked.

Thank the gods. Technically, she wasn't late.

Nico joined Percy Jackson, who was standing off to one side with a couple of guards.

Percy's hair was wet from the baths. He'd put on fresh clothes, but he still looked

uncomfortable. Hazel couldn't blame him. He was about to be introduced to two hundred

heavily armed kids.

The Lares were the last ones to fall in. Their purple forms flickered as they jockeyed

for places. They had an annoying habit of standing halfway inside living people, so that

the ranks looked like a blurry photograph, but finally the centurions got them sorted out.

Octavian shouted, "Colors!"

The standard-bearers stepped forward. They wore lion-skincapes and held poles

decorated with each cohort's emblems. The last to present his standard was Jacob, the

legion's eagle bearer. He held a long pole with absolutely nothing on top. The job was

supposed to be a big honor, but Jacob obviously hated it. Even though Reyna insisted on

following tradition, every time the eagleless pole was raised, Hazel could feel

embarrassment rippling through the legion.

Reyna brought her pegasus to a halt.

"Romans!" she announced. "You've probably heard about the incursion today. Two

gorgons were swept into the river by this newcomer, Percy Jackson. Juno herself guided

him here, and proclaimed him a son of Neptune."

The kids in the back rows craned thAT LEAST THE CAMP FOOD WAS GOOD. Invisible wind spirits—aurae—waited on the

campers and seemed to know exactly what everyone wanted. They blew plates and cups

around so quickly, the mess hall looked like a delicious hurricane. If you got up too fast,

you were likely to get beaned by beans or potted by a pot roast.

Hazel got shrimp gumbo—her favorite comfort food. It made her think about being a

little girl in New Orleans, before her curse set in and her mom got so bitter. Percy got a

cheeseburger and a strange-looking soda that was bright blue. Hazel didn't understand

that, but Percy tried it and grinned.

"This makes me happy," he said. "I don't know why…but it does."

Just for a moment, one of the aurae became visible—an elfin girl in a white silk dress.

She giggled as she topped off Percy's glass, then disappeared in a gust.

The mess hall seemed especially noisy tonight. Laughter echoed off the walls. War

banners rustled from cedar ceiling beams as aurae blew back and forth, keeping

everyone's plates full. The campers dined Roman style, sitting on couches around low

tables. Kids were constantly getting up and trading places, spreading rumors about who

liked whom and all the other gossip.

As usual, the Fifth Cohort took the place of least honor. Their tables were at the back

of the dining hall next to the kitchen. Hazel's table was always the least crowded. Tonight

it was she and Frank, as usual, with Percy and Nico and their centurion Dakota, who sat

therThe rest of the legion echoed the cheer.

Reyna wheeled her pegasus away from Percy, like she was glad to be done with him.

Skippy spread his beautiful wings. Hazel couldn't help feeling a pang of envy. She'd give

anything for a horse like that, but it would never happen. Horses were for officers only, or

barbarian cavalry, not for Roman legionnaires.

"Centurions," Reyna said, "you and your troops have one hour for dinner. Then we

will meet on the Field of Mars. The First and Second Cohorts will defend. The Third,

Fourth, and Fifth will attack. Good fortune!"

A bigger cheer went up—for the war games and for dinner. The cohorts broke ranks

and ran for the mess hall.

Hazel waved at Percy, who made his way through the crowd with Nico at his side. To

Hazel's surprise, Nico was beaming at her.

"Good job, Sis," he said. "That took guts, standing for him."

He had never called her Sis before. She wondered if that was what he had called

Bianca.

One of the guards had given Percy his probatio nameplate. Percy strung it on his

leather necklace with the strange beads.

"Thanks, Hazel," he said. "Um, what exactly does it mean—your standing for me?"

"I guarantee your good behavior," Hazel explained. "I teach you the rules, answer your

questions, make sure you don't disgrace the legion."

"And…if I do something wrong?"

"Then I get killed along with you," Hazel said. "Hungry? "None taken." Nico seemed relieved to change the topic. "Dakota was really helpful,

standing for Hazel."

Dakota blushed. "Yeah, well…She seemed like a good kid. Turned out I was right.

Last month, when she saved me from, uh, you know."

"Oh, man!" Frank looked up from his fish and chips. "Percy, you should have seen

her! That's how Hazel got her stripe. The unicorns decided to stampede—"

"It was nothing," Hazel said.

"Nothing?" Frank protested. "Dakota would've gotten trampled! You stood right in

front of them, shooed them away, saved his hide. I've never seen anything like it."

Hazel bit her lip. She didn't like to talk about it, and she felt uncomfortable, the way

Frank made her sound like a hero. In truth, she'd been mostly afraid that the unicorns

would hurt themselves in their panic. Their horns were precious metal—silver and gold—

so she'd managed to turn them aside simply by concentrating, steering the animals by their

horns and guiding them back to the stables. It had gotten her a full place in the legion, but

it had also started rumors about her strange powers—rumors that reminded her of the bad

old days.

Percy studied her. Those sea-green eyes made her unsettled.

"Did you and Nico grow up together?" he asked.

"No," Nico answered for her. "I found out that Hazel was my sister only recently.

She's from New Orleans."

That was true, of course, but not the whole truth. Nico let people think he'd stumbled

upon her in modern New Orleans and brought her to camp. It was easier than telling the

real story.

Hazel had tried to pass herself off as a modern kid. It wasn't easy. Thankfully,

demigods didn't use a lot of technology at camp. Their powers tended to make electronic

gadgets go haywire. But the first time she went on furlough to Berkeley, she had nearly

had a stroke. Televisions, computers, iPods, the Internet…It made her glad to get back to

the world of ghosts, unicorns, and gods. That seemed much less of a fantasy than the

twenty-first century.

Nico was still talking about the children of Pluto. "There aren't many of us," he said,

"so we have to stick together. When I found Hazel—"

"You have other sisters?" Percy asked, almost as if he knew the answer. Hazel

wondered again when he and Nico had met, and what her brother was hiding.

"One," Nico admitted. "But she died. I saw her spirit a few times in the Underworld,

except that the last time I went down there…"

To bring her back, Hazel thought, though Nico didn't say that.

"She was gone." Nico's voice turned hoarse. "She used to be in Elysium—like, the

Underworld paradise—but she chose to be reborn into a new life. Now I'll never see her

again. I was just lucky to find Hazel…in New Orleans, I mean."...