The Mark of Athena

They had landed near the summit of a forested hill. A complex of white buildings, like a museum or a university, nestled in a grove of pines to the left. Below them spread the city of Atlanta—a cluster of brown and silver downtown skyscrapers two miles away, rising from what looked like an endless flat sprawl of highways, railroad tracks, houses, and green swathes of forest.

“Ah, lovely spot.” Coach Hedge inhaled the morning air. “Good choice, Valdez.”

Leo shrugged. “I just picked a tall hill. That’s a presidential library or something over there. At least that’s what Festus says.”

“I don’t know about that!” Hedge barked. “But do you realize what happened on this hill? Frank Zhang, you should know!”

Frank flinched. “I should?”

“A son of Ares stood here!” Hedge cried indignantly.

“I’m Roman…so Mars, actually.”

“Whatever! Famous spot in the American Civil War!”

“I’m Canadian, actually.”

“Whatever! General Sherman, Union leader. He stood on this hill watching the city of Atlanta burn. Cut a path of destruction all the way from here to the sea. Burning, looting, pillaging—now there was a demigod!”

Frank inched away from the satyr. “Uh, okay.”

Percy didn’t care much about history, but he wondered whether landing here was a bad omen. He’d heard that most human civil wars started as fights between Greek and Roman demigods. Now they were standing on the site of one such battle. The entire city below them had been leveled on orders of a child of Ares.

Percy could imagine some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood giving such a command. Clarisse La Rue, for instance, wouldn’t hesitate. But he couldn’t imagine Frank being so harsh.

“Anyway,” Percy said, “let’s try not to burn down the city this time.”

The coach looked disappointed. “All right. But where to?”

Percy pointed toward downtown. “When in doubt, start in the middle.”

Catching a ride there was easier than they thought. The three of them headed to the presidential library—which turned out to be the Carter Center—and asked the staff if they could call a taxi or give them directions to the nearest bus stop. Percy could have summoned Blackjack, but he was reluctant to ask the pegasus for help so soon after their last disaster. Frank didn’t want to polymorph into anything. And besides, Percy was kind of hoping to travel like a regular mortal for a change.

One of the librarians, whose name was Esther, insisted on driving them personally. She was so nice about it, Percy thought she must be a monster in disguise; but Hedge pulled him aside and assured him that Esther smelled like a normal human.

“With a hint of potpourri,” he said. “Cloves. Rose petals. Tasty!”

They piled into Esther’s big black Cadillac and drove toward downtown. Esther was so tiny, she could barely see over the steering wheel; but that didn’t seem to bother her. She muscled her car through traffic while regaling them with stories about the crazy families of Atlanta—the old plantation owners, the founders of Coca-Cola, the sports stars, and the CNN news people. She sounded so knowledgeable that Percy decided to try his luck.

“Uh, so, Esther,” he said, “here’s a hard question for you. Salt water in Atlanta. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

The old lady chuckled. “Oh, sugar. That’s easy. Whale sharks!”

Frank and Percy exchanged looks.

“Whale sharks?” Frank asked nervously. “You have those in Atlanta?”

“At the aquarium, sugar,” Esther said. “Very famous! Right downtown. Is that where you wanted to go?”

An aquarium. Percy considered that. He didn’t know what an Ancient Greek sea god would be doing at a Georgia aquarium, but he didn’t have any better ideas.

“Yes,” Percy said. “That’s where we’re going.”

Esther dropped them at the main entrance, where a line was already forming. She insisted on giving them her cell phone number for emergencies, money for a taxi ride back to the Carter Center, and a jar of homemade peach preserves, which for some reason she kept in a box in her trunk. Frank stuck the jar in his backpack and thanked Esther, who had already switched from calling him sugar to son.

As she drove away, Frank said, “Are all people in Atlanta that nice?”

Hedge grunted. “Hope not. I can’t fight them if they’re nice. Let’s go beat up some whale sharks. They sound dangerous!”

It hadn’t occurred to Percy that they might have to pay admission, or stand in line behind a bunch of families and kids from summer camps.

Looking at the elementary schoolers in their colorful T-shirts from various day camps, Percy felt a twinge of sadness. He should be at Camp Half-Blood right now, settling into his cabin for the summer, teaching sword-fighting lessons in the arena, planning pranks on the other counselors. These kids had no idea just how crazy a summer camp could be.

He sighed. “Well, I guess we wait in line. Anybody have money?”

Frank checked his pockets. “Three denarii from Camp Jupiter. Five dollars Canadian.”

Hedge patted his gym shorts and pulled out what he found. “Three quarters, two dimes, a rubber band and—