The Mark of Athena

entertainment value. Not like my lovely specimens!”

He gestured to the hippocampi, who were bonking their heads apathetically against the glass.

Percy tried to think. He felt like the lethargy of the addled sea creatures was starting to affect him. “You said this—this doomsday show was Gaea’s idea?”

“Well…Mother’s plans always have lots of layers.” He laughed. “The earth has layers! I suppose that makes sense!”

“Uh-huh,” Percy said. “And so her plan…”

“Oh, she’s put out a general bounty on some group of demigods,” Phorcys said. “She doesn’t really care who kills them, as long as they’re killed. Well…I take that back. She was very specific that two must be spared. One boy and one girl. Tartarus only knows why. At any rate, the twins have their little show planned, hoping it will lure these demigods to Rome. I suppose the prisoner in the jar is a friend of theirs or some such. That, or perhaps they think this group of demigods will be foolish enough to come into their territory searching for the Mark of Athena.” Phorcys elbowed Frank in the ribs. “Ha! Good luck with that, eh?”

Frank laughed nervously. “Yeah. Ha-ha. That would be really dumb because, uh…”

Phorcys narrowed his eyes.

Percy slipped his hand into his pocket. He closed his fingers around Riptide. Even this old sea god must be smart enough to realize they were the demigods with the bounty on their heads.

But Phorcys just grinned and elbowed Frank again. “Ha! Good one, child of Mars. I suppose you’re right. No point talking about it. Even if the demigods found that map in Charleston, they’d never make it to Rome alive!”

“Yes, the MAP IN CHARLESTON,” Frank said loudly, giving Percy a wide-eyed look to make sure he hadn’t missed the information. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he had held up a large sign that read CLUE!!!!!

“But enough boring educational stuff!” Phorcys said. “You’ve paid for the VIP treatment. Won’t you please let me finish the tour? The three denarii entrance fee is nonrefundable, you know.”

Percy wasn’t excited about more fireworks, donut-scented smoke, or depressing captive sea creatures. But he glanced at Frank and decided they’d better humor the crabby old god, at least until they found Coach Hedge and got safely to the exit. Besides, they might be able to get more information out of Phorcys.

“Afterward,” Percy said, “can we ask questions?”

“Of course! I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” Phorcys clapped his hands twice. On the wall under the glowing red sign, a new tunnel appeared, leading into another tank.

“Walk this way!” Phorcys scuttled sideways through the tunnel.

Frank scratched his head. “Do we have to—?” He turned sideways.

“It’s just a figure of speech, man,” Percy said. “Come on.”

THE TUNNEL RAN ALONG THE FLOOR of a gymnasium-sized tank. Except for water and some cheap decorations, it seemed majestically empty. Percy guessed there were about fifty thousand gallons of water over their heads. If the tunnel were to shatter for some reason…

No big deal, Percy thought. I’ve been surrounded by water thousands of times. This is my home court.

But his heart was pounding. He remembered sinking into the cold Alaskan bog—black mud covering his eyes, mouth, and nose.

Phorcys stopped in the middle of the tunnel and spread his arms proudly. “Beautiful exhibit, isn’t it?”

Percy tried to distract himself by concentrating on details. In one corner of the tank, snuggled in a forest of fake kelp, was a life-sized plastic gingerbread cottage with bubbles coming out of the chimney. In the opposite corner, a plastic sculpture of a guy in an old-fashioned diving suit knelt beside a treasure chest, which popped open every few seconds, spewed bubbles, and closed again. Littered across the white sand floor were glass marbles the size of bowling balls, and a strange assortment of weapons like tridents and spearguns. Outside the tank’s display wall was an amphitheater with seating for several hundred.

“What do you keep in here?” Frank asked. “Giant killer goldfish?”

Phorcys raised his eyebrows. “Oh, that would be good! But, no, Frank Zhang, descendant of Poseidon. This tank is not for goldfish.”

At descendant of Poseidon, Frank flinched. He stepped back, gripping his backpack like a mace he was prepared to swing.

A sense of dread trickled down Percy’s throat like cough syrup. Unfortunately, it was a feeling he was used to.

“How do you know Frank’s last name?” he demanded. “How do you know he’s descended from Poseidon?”

“Well…” Phorcys shrugged, trying to look modest. “It was probably in the descriptions Gaea provided. You know, for the bounty, Percy Jackson.”

Percy uncapped his pen. Instantly, Riptide appeared in his hand. “Don’t double-cross me, Phorcys. You promised me answers.”

“After the VIP treatment, yes,” Phorcys agreed. “I promised to tell you everything you need to know. The thing is, however, you don’t really need to know anything.” His grotesque smile stretched wide. “You see, even if you made it to Rome, which is quite unlikely, you’d never defeat my giant brothers without a god fighting at your side. And what god would help you? So I have a better plan. You’re not leaving. You’re VIPs— Very Important Prisoners!”

Percy lunged. Frank hurled his backpack at the sea god’s head. Phorcys simply disappeared.