The Mark of Athena

Annabeth told her the story. She shared her bitterness and sorrow, and it must have sounded genuine. The spider did not pounce.

“This is Athena’s nature,” Arachne hissed. “She casts aside even her own daughter. The goddess would never allow my tapestries to be shown in the palaces of the gods. She was always jealous of me.”

“But imagine if you could get your revenge at long last.”

“By killing you!”

“I suppose.” Annabeth scratched her head. “Or…by letting me be your agent. I could get your work into Mount Olympus. I could arrange an exhibition for the other gods. By the time my mother found out, it would be too late. The Olympians would finally see that your work is better.”

“Then you admit it!” Arachne cried. “A daughter of Athena admits I am better! Oh, this is sweet to my ears.”

“But a lot of good it does you,” Annabeth pointed out. “If I die down here, you go on living in the dark. Gaea destroys the gods, and they never realize you were the better weaver.”

The spider hissed.

Annabeth was afraid her mother might suddenly appear and curse her with some terrible affliction. The first lesson every child of Athena learned: Mom was the best at everything, and you should never, ever suggest otherwise.

But nothing bad happened. Maybe Athena understood that Annabeth was only saying these things to save her life. Or maybe Athena was in such in bad shape, split between her Greek and Roman personalities, that she wasn’t even paying attention.

“This will not do,” Arachne grumbled. “I cannot allow it.”

“Well…” Annabeth shifted, trying to keep her weight off her throbbing ankle. A new crack appeared in the floor, and she hobbled back.

“Careful!” Arachne snapped. “The foundations of this shrine have been eaten away over the centuries!”

Annabeth’s heartbeat faltered. “Eaten away?”

“You have no idea how much hatred boils beneath us,” the spider said. “The spiteful thoughts of so many monsters trying to reach the Athena Parthenos and destroy it. My webbing is the only thing holding the room together, girl! One false step, and you’ll fall all the way to Tartarus—and believe me, unlike the Doors of Death, this would be a one-way trip, a very hard fall! I will not have you dying before you tell me your plan for my artwork.”

Annabeth’s mouth tasted like rust. All the way to Tartarus? She tried to stay focused, but it wasn’t easy as she listened to the floor creak and crack, spilling rubble into the void below.

“Right, the plan,” Annabeth said. “Um…as I said, I’d love to take your tapestries to Olympus and hang them everywhere. You could rub your craftsmanship in Athena’s nose for all eternity. But the only way I could do that…No. It’s too difficult. You might as well go ahead and kill me.”

“No!” Arachne cried. “That is unacceptable. It no longer brings me any pleasure to contemplate. I must have my work on Mount Olympus! What must I do?”

Annabeth shook her head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Just push me into Tartarus or something.”

“I refuse!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Kill me.”

“I do not take orders from you! Tell me what I must do! Or…or—”

“Or you’ll kill me?”

“Yes! No!” The spider pressed her front legs against her head. “I must show my work on Mount Olympus.”

Annabeth tried to contain her excitement. Her plan might actually work…but she still had to convince Arachne to do something impossible. She remembered some good advice Frank Zhang had given her: Keep it simple.

“I suppose I could pull a few strings,” she conceded.

“I excel at pulling strings!” said Arachne. “I’m a spider!”

“Yes, but to get your work shown on Mount Olympus, we’d need a proper audition. I’d have to pitch the idea, submit a proposal, put together a portfolio. Hmm…do you have any headshots?”

“Headshots?”

“Glossy black-and-white…Oh, never mind. The audition piece is the most important thing. These tapestries are excellent. But the gods would require something really special—something that shows off your talent in the extreme.”

Arachne snarled. “Are you suggesting that these are not my best work? Are you challenging me to a contest?”

“Oh, no!” Annabeth laughed. “Against me? Gosh, no. You are much too good. It would only be a contest against yourself, to see if you really have what it takes to show your work on Mount Olympus.”

“Of course I do!”

“Well, I certainly think so. But the audition, you know…it’s a formality. I’m afraid it would be very difficult. Are you sure you don’t just want to kill me?”

“Stop saying that!” Arachne screeched. “What must I make?”

“I’ll show you.” Annabeth unslung her backpack. She took out Daedalus’s laptop and opened it. The delta logo glowed in the dark.

“What is that?” Arachne asked. “Some sort of loom?”

“In a way,” Annabeth said. “It’s for weaving ideas. It holds a diagram of the artwork you would build.”

Her fingers trembled on the keyboard. Arachne lowered herself to peer directly over Annabeth’s shoulder. Annabeth couldn’t help thinking how easily those needlelike teeth could sink into her neck.

She opened her 3-D imaging program. Her last design was still up—the key to Annabeth’s plan, inspired by the most unlikely muse ever: Frank Zhang.

Annabeth did some quick calculations. She increased the dimensions of the model, then showed Arachne how it could be created—strands of material woven into strips, then braided into a long cylinder.

The golden light from the screen illuminated the spider’s face. “You want me to make that? But this is nothing! So small and simple!”

“The actual size would be much bigger,” Annabeth cautioned. “You see these measurements? Naturally it must be large enough to impress the gods. It may look simple, but the structure has incredible properties. Your spider silk would be the perfect material—soft and flexible, yet hard as steel.”

“I see…” Arachne frowned. “But this isn’t even a tapestry.”

“That’s why it’s a challenge. It’s outside your comfort zone. A piece like this—an abstract sculpture—is what the gods are looking for. It would stand in the entry hall of the Olympian throne room for every visitor to see. You would be famous forever!”

Arachne made a discontented hum in her throat. Annabeth could tell she wasn’t going for the idea. Her hands started to feel cold and sweaty.

“This would take a great deal of web,” the spider complained. “More than I could make in a year.”

Annabeth had been hoping for that. She’d calculated the mass and size accordingly. “You’d need to unravel the statue,” she said. “Reuse the silk.”

Arachne seemed about to object, but Annabeth waved at the Athena Parthenos like it was nothing. “What’s more important—covering that old statue or proving your artwork is the best? Of course, you’d have to be incredibly careful. You’d need to leave enough webbing to hold the room together. And if you think it’s too difficult—”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Okay. It’s just…Athena said that creating this braided structure would be impossible for any weaver, even her. So if you don’t think you can—”

“Athena said that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Ridiculous! I can do it!”

“Great! But you’d need to start right away, before the Olympians choose another artist for their installations.”

Arachne growled. “If you are tricking me, girl—”

“You’ll have me right here as a hostage,” Annabeth reminded her. “It’s not like I can go anywhere. Once this sculpture is complete, you’ll agree that it’s the most amazing piece you’ve ever done. If not, I will gladly die.”

Arachne hesitated. Her barbed legs were so close, she could’ve impaled Annabeth with a quick swipe.

“Fine,” the spider said. “One last challenge—against myself!”

Arachne climbed her web and began to unravel the Athena Parthenos.

ANNABETH LOST TRACK OF TIME.

She could feel the ambrosia she’d eaten earlier starting to repair her leg, but it still hurt so badly that the pain throbbed right up to her neck. All along the walls, small spiders scuttled in the darkness, as if awaiting their mistress’s orders. Thousands of them rustled behind the tapestries, making the woven scenes move like wind.

Annabeth sat on the crumbling floor and tried to preserve her strength. While Arachne wasn’t watching, she attempted to get some sort of signal on Daedalus’s laptop to contact her friends, but of course she had no luck. That left her nothing to do but watch in amazement and horror as Arachne worked, her eight legs moving with hypnotic speed, slowly unraveling the silk strands around the statue.

With its golden clothes and its luminous ivory face, the Athena Parthenos was even scarier than Arachne. It gazed down sternly as if to say, Bring me tasty snacks or else. Annabeth could imagine being an Ancient Greek, walking into the Parthenon and seeing this massive goddess with her shield, spear, and python, her free hand holding out Nike, the winged spirit of victory. It would’ve been enough to put a kink in the chiton of any mortal.

More than that, the statue radiated power. As Athena was unwrapped, the air around her grew warmer. Her ivory skin glowed with life. All across the room, the smaller spiders became agitated and began retreating back into the hallway.

Annabeth guessed that Arachne’s webs had somehow masked and dampened the statue’s magic. Now that it was free, the Athena Parthenos filled the chamber with magical energy. Centuries of mortal prayers and burnt offerings had been made it its presence. It was infused with the power of Athena.

Arachne didn’t seem to notice. She kept muttering to herself, counting out yards of silk and calculating the number of strands her project would require. Whenever she hesitated, Annabeth called out encouragement and reminded her how wonderful her tapestries would look on Mount Olympus.

The statue grew so warm and bright that Annabeth could see more details of the shrine—the Roman masonry that had probably once been gleaming white, the dark bones of Arachne’s past victims and meals hanging in the web, and the massive cables of silk that connected the floor to the ceiling. Annabeth now saw just how fragile the marble tiles were under her feet. They were covered in a fine layer of webbing, like mesh holding together a shattered mirror. Whenever the Athena Parthenos shifted even slightly, more cracks spread and widened along the floor. In some places, there were holes as big as manhole covers. Annabeth almost wished it were dark again. Even if her plan succeeded and she defeated Arachne, she wasn’t sure how she could make it out of this chamber alive.

“So much silk,” Arachne muttered. “I could make twenty tapestries—”

“Keep going!” Annabeth called up. “You’re doing a wonderful job.”

The spider kept working. After what seemed like forever, a mountain of glistening silk was piled at the feet of the statue. The walls of the chamber were still covered in webs. The support cables holding the room together hadn’t been disturbed. But the Athena Parthenos was free.

Please wake up, Annabeth begged the statue. Mother, help me.

Nothing happened, but the cracks seemed to be spreading across the floor more rapidly. According to Arachne, the malicious thoughts of monsters had eaten away at the shrine’s foundations for centuries. If that was true, now that it was free the Athena Parthenos might be attracting even more attention from the monsters in Tartarus.

“The design,” Annabeth said. “You should hurry.”

She lifted the computer screen for Arachne to see, but the spider snapped, “I’ve memorized it, child. I have an artist’s eye for detail.”

“Of course you do. But we should hurry.”

“Why?”

“Well…so we can introduce your work to the world!”

“Hmm. Very well.”

Arachne began to weave. It was slow work, turning silk strands into long strips of cloth. The chamber rumbled. The cracks at Annabeth’s feet became wider.

If Arachne noticed, she didn’t seem to care. Annabeth considered trying to push the spider into the pit somehow, but she dismissed the idea. There wasn’t a big enough hole, and besides, if the floor gave way, Arachne could probably hang from her silk and escape, while Annabeth and the ancient statue would tumble into Tartarus.

Slowly, Arachne finished the long strips of silk and braided them together. Her skill was flawless. Annabeth couldn’t help being impressed. She felt another flicker of doubt about her own mother. What if Arachne was a better weaver than Athena?

But Arachne’s skill wasn’t the point. She had been punished for being prideful and rude. No matter how amazing you were, you couldn’t go around insulting the gods. The Olympians were a reminder that there was always someone better than you, so you shouldn’t get a big head. Still…being turned into a monstrous immortal spider seemed like a pretty harsh punishment for bragging.

Arachne worked more quickly, bringing the strands together. Soon, the structure was done. At the feet of the statue lay a braided cylinder of silk strips, five feet in diameter and ten feet long. The surface glistened like abalone shell, but it didn’t seem beautiful to Annabeth. It was just functional: a trap. It would only be beautiful if it worked.

Arachne turned to her with a hungry smile. “Done! Now, my reward! Prove to me that you can deliver on your promises.”

Annabeth studied the trap. She frowned and walked around it, inspecting the weaving from every angle. Then, careful of her bad ankle, she got down on hands and knees and crawled inside. She’d done the measurements in her head. If she’d gotten them wrong, her plan was doomed. But she slipped through the silken tunnel without touching the sides. The webbing was sticky, but not impossibly so. She crawled out the other end and shook her head.

“There’s a flaw,” she said.

“What?!” Arachne cried. “Impossible! I followed your instructions—”

“Inside,” Annabeth said. “Crawl in and see for yourself. It’s right in the middle—a flaw in the weaving.”

Arachne foamed at the mouth. Annabeth was afraid she’d pushed too hard, and the spider would snap her up. She’d be just another set of bones in the cobwebs.

Instead, Arachne stamped her eight legs petulantly. “I do not make mistakes.”

“Oh, it’s small,” Annabeth said. “You can probably fix it. But I don’t want to show the gods anything but your best work. Look, go inside and check. If you can fix it, then we’ll show it to the Olympians. You’ll be the most famous artist of all time. They’ll probably fire the Nine Muses and hire you to oversee all the arts. The goddess Arachne…yes, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“The goddess…” Arachne’s breathing turned shallow. “Yes, yes. I will fix this flaw.”

She poked her head into the tunnel. “Where is it?”

“Right in the middle,” Annabeth urged. “Go ahead. It might be a bit snug for you.”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, and wriggled in.

As Annabeth had hoped, the spider’s abdomen fit, but only barely. As she pushed her way in, the braided strips of silk expanded to accommodate her. Arachne got all the way up to her spinnerets.

“I see no flaw!” she announced.

“Really?” Annabeth asked. “Well, that’s odd. Come out and I’ll take another look.”

Moment of truth. Arachne wriggled, trying to back up. The woven tunnel contracted around her and held her fast. She tried to wriggle forward, but the trap was already stuck to her abdomen. She couldn’t get through that way either. Annabeth had been afraid the spider’s barbed legs might puncture the silk, but Arachne’s legs were pressed so tightly against her body she could barely move them.

“What—what is this?” she called. “I am stuck!”

“Ah,” Annabeth said. “I forgot to tell you. This piece of art is called Chinese Handcuffs. At least, it’s a larger variation on that idea. I call it Chinese Spidercuffs.”

“Treachery!” Arachne thrashed and rolled and squirmed, but the trap held her tight.

“It was a matter of survival,” Annabeth corrected. “You were going to kill me either way, whether I helped you or not, yes?”

“Well, of course! You’re a child of Athena.” The trap went still. “I mean…no, of course not! I respect my promises.”

“Uh-huh.” Annabeth stepped back as the braided cylinder began to thrash again. “Normally these traps are made from woven bamboo, but spider silk is even better. It will hold you fast, and it’s much too strong to break—even for you.”

“Gahhhh!” Arachne rolled and wriggled, but Annabeth moved out of the way. Even with her broken ankle, she could manage to avoid a giant silk finger trap.

“I will destroy you!” Arachne promised. “I mean…no, I’ll be very nice to you if you let me out.”

“I’d save my energy if I were you.” Annabeth took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time in hours. “I’m going to call my friends.”

“You—you’re going to call them about my artwork?” Arachne asked hopefully.

Annabeth scanned the room. There had to be a way to send an Iris-message to the Argo II. She had some water left in her bottle, but how to create enough light and mist to make a rainbow in a dark cavern?

Arachne began to roll around again. “You’re calling your friends to kill me!” she shrieked. “I will not die! Not like this!”

“Calm down,” Annabeth said. “We’ll let you live. We just want the statue.”

“The statue?”

“Yes.” Annabeth should’ve left it at that, but her fear was turning to anger and resentment. “The artwork that I’ll display most prominently on Mount Olympus? It won’t be yours. The Athena Parthenos belongs there—right in the central park of the gods.”

“No! No, that’s horrible!”

“Oh, it won’t happen right away,” Annabeth said. “First we’ll take the statue with us to Greece. A prophecy told us it has the power to help defeat the giants. After that…well, we can’t simply restore it to the Parthenon. That would raise too many questions. It’ll be safer in Mount Olympus. It will unite the children of Athena and bring peace to the Romans and Greeks. Thanks for keeping it safe all these centuries. You’ve done Athena a great service.”

Arachne screamed and flailed. A strand of silk shot from the monster’s spinnerets and attached itself to a tapestry on the far wall. Arachne contracted her abdomen and blindly ripped away the weaving. She continued to roll, shooting silk randomly, pulling over braziers of magic fire and ripping tiles out of the floor. The chamber shook. Tapestries began to burn.

“Stop that!” Annabeth tried to hobble out of the way of the spider’s silk. “You’ll bring down the whole cavern and kill us both!”

“Better than seeing you win!” Arachne cried. “My children! Help me!”

Oh, great. Annabeth had hoped the statue’s magic aura would keep away the little spiders, but Arachne continued shrieking, imploring them to help. Annabeth considered killing the spider woman to shut her up. It would be easy to use her knife now. But she hesitated to kill any monster when it was so helpless, even Arachne. Besides, if she stabbed through the braided silk, the trap might unravel. It was possible Arachne could break free before Annabeth could finish her off.

All these thoughts came too late. Spiders began swarming into the chamber. The statue of Athena glowed brighter. The spiders clearly didn’t want to approach, but they edged forward as if gathering their courage. Their mother was screaming for help. Eventually they would pour in, overwhelming Annabeth.

“Arachne, stop it!” she yelled. “I’ll—”

Somehow Arachne twisted in her prison, pointing her abdomen toward the sound of Annabeth’s voice. A strand of silk hit her in the chest like a heavyweight’s glove.

Annabeth fell, her leg flaring with pain. She slashed wildly at the webbing with her dagger as Arachne pulled her toward her snapping spinnerets.

Annabeth managed to cut the strand and crawl away, but the little spiders were closing around her.

She realized her best efforts had not been enough. She wouldn’t make it out of here. Arachne’s children would kill her at the feet of her mother’s statue.

Percy, she thought, I’m sorry.

At that moment, the chamber groaned, and the cavern ceiling exploded in a blast of fiery light.

ANNABETH HAD SEEN SOME STRANGE THINGS BEFORE, but she’d never seen it rain cars.

As the roof of the cavern collapsed, sunlight blinded her. She got the briefest glimpse of the Argo II hovering above. It must have used its ballistae to blast a hole straight through the ground.

Chunks of asphalt as big as garage doors tumbled down, along with six or seven Italian cars. One would’ve crushed the Athena Parthenos, but the statue’s glowing aura acted like a force field, and the car bounced off. Unfortunately, it fell straight toward Annabeth.

She jumped to one side, twisting her bad foot. A wave of agony almost made her pass out, but she flipped on her back in time to see a bright red Fiat 500 slam into Arachne’s silk trap, punching through the cavern floor and disappearing with the Chinese Spidercuffs.

As Arachne fell, she screamed like a freight train on a collision course; but her wailing rapidly faded. All around Annabeth, more chunks of debris slammed through the floor, riddling it with holes.

The Athena Parthenos remained undamaged, though the marble under its pedestal was a starburst of fractures. Annabeth was covered in cobwebs. She trailed strands of leftover spider silk from her arms and legs like the strings of a marionette, but somehow, amazingly, none of the debris had hit her. She wanted to believe that the statue had protected her, though she suspected it might’ve been nothing but luck.

The army of spiders had disappeared. Either they had fled back into the darkness, or they’d fallen into the chasm. As daylight flooded the cavern, Arachne’s tapestries along the walls crumbled to dust, which Annabeth could hardly bear to watch—especially the tapestry depicting her and Percy.

But none of that mattered when she heard Percy’s voice from above: “Annabeth!”

“Here!” she sobbed.

All the terror seemed to leave her in one massive yelp. As the Argo II descended, she saw Percy leaning over the rail. His smile was better than any tapestry she’d ever seen.

The room kept shaking, but Annabeth managed to stand. The floor at her feet seemed stable for the moment. Her backpack was missing, along with Daedalus’s laptop. Her bronze knife, which she’d had since she was seven, was also gone—probably fallen into the pit. But Annabeth didn’t care. She was alive.

She edged closer to the gaping hole made by the Fiat 500. Jagged rock walls plunged into the darkness as far as Annabeth could see. A few small ledges jutted out here and there, but Annabeth saw nothing on them—just strands of spider silk dripping over the sides like Christmas tinsel.

Annabeth wondered if Arachne had told the truth about the chasm. Had the spider fallen all the way to Tartarus? She tried to feel satisfied with that idea, but it made her sad. Arachne had made some beautiful things. She’d already suffered for eons. Now her last tapestries had crumbled. After all that, falling into Tartarus seemed like too harsh an end.

Annabeth was dimly aware of the Argo II hovering to a stop about forty feet from the floor. It lowered a rope ladder, but Annabeth stood in a daze, staring into the darkness. Then suddenly Percy was next to her, lacing his fingers in hers.

He turned her gently away from the pit and wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face in his chest and broke down in tears.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We’re together.”

He didn’t say you’re okay, or we’re alive. After all they’d been through over the last year, he knew the most important thing was that they were together. She loved him for saying that.

Their friends gathered around them. Nico di Angelo was there, but Annabeth’s thoughts were so fuzzy, this didn’t seem surprising to her. It seemed only right that he would be with them.

“Your leg.” Piper knelt next to her and examined the Bubble Wrap cast. “Oh, Annabeth, what happened?”

She started to explain. Talking was difficult, but as she went along, her words came more easily. Percy didn’t let go of her hand, which also made her feel more confident. When she finished, her friends’ faces were slack with amazement.

“Gods of Olympus,” Jason said. “You did all that alone. With a broken ankle.”

“Well…some of it with a broken ankle.”

Percy grinned. “You made Arachne weave her own trap? I knew you were good, but Holy Hera—Annabeth, you did it. Generations of Athena kids tried and failed. You found the Athena Parthenos!”

Everyone gazed at the statue.

“What do we do with her?” Frank asked. “She’s huge.”

“We’ll have to take her with us to Greece,” Annabeth said. “The statue is powerful. Something about it will help us stop the giants.”

“The giants’ bane stands gold and pale,” Hazel quoted. “Won with pain from a woven jail.” She looked at Annabeth with admiration. “It was Arachne’s jail. You tricked her into weaving it.”

With a lot of pain, Annabeth thought.

Leo raised his hands. He made a finger picture frame around the Athena Parthenos like he was taking measurements. “Well, it might take some rearranging, but I think we can fit her through the bay doors in the stable. If she sticks out the end, I might have to wrap a flag around her feet or something.”

Annabeth shuddered. She imagined the Athena Parthenos jutting from their trireme with a sign across her pedestal that read: WIDE LOAD.

Then she thought about the other lines of the prophecy: The twins snuff out the angel’s breath, who holds the keys to endless death.

“What about you guys?” she asked. “What happened with the giants?”

Percy told her about rescuing Nico, the appearance of Bacchus, and the fight with the twins in the Colosseum. Nico didn’t say much. The poor guy looked like he’d been wandering through a wasteland for six weeks. Percy explained what Nico had found out about the Doors of Death, and how they had to be closed on both sides. Even with sunlight streaming in from above, Percy’s news made the cavern seem dark again.

“So the mortal side is in Epirus,” she said. “At least that’s somewhere we can reach.”

Nico grimaced. “But the other side is the problem. Tartarus.”

The word seemed to echo through the chamber. The pit behind them exhaled a cold blast of air. That’s when Annabeth knew with certainty. The chasm did go straight to the Underworld.

Percy must have felt it too. He guided her a little farther from the edge. Her arms and legs trailed spider silk like a bridal train. She wished she had her dagger to cut that junk off. She almost asked Percy to do the honors with Riptide, but before she could, he said, “Bacchus mentioned something about my voyage being harder than I expected. Not sure why—”

The chamber groaned. The Athena Parthenos tilted to one side. Its head caught on one of Arachne’s support cables, but the marble foundation under the pedestal was crumbling.

Nausea swelled in Annabeth’s chest. If the statue fell into the chasm, all her work would be for nothing. Their quest would fail.

“Secure it!” Annabeth cried.

Her friends understood immediately.

“Zhang!” Leo cried. “Get me to the helm, quick! The coach is up there alone.”

Frank transformed into a giant eagle, and the two of them soared toward the ship.

Jason wrapped his arm around Piper. He turned to Percy. “Back for you guys in a sec.” He summoned the wind and shot into the air.

“This floor won’t last!” Hazel warned. “The rest of us should get to the ladder.”

Plumes of dust and cobwebs blasted from holes in the floor. The spider’s silk support cables trembled like massive guitar strings and began to snap. Hazel lunged for the bottom of the rope ladder and gestured for Nico to follow, but Nico was in no condition to sprint.

Percy gripped Annabeth’s hand tighter. “It’ll be fine,” he muttered.

Looking up, she saw grappling lines shoot from the Argo II and wrap around the statue. One lassoed Athena’s neck like a noose. Leo shouted orders from the helm as Jason and Frank flew frantically from line to line, trying to secure them.

Nico had just reached the ladder when a sharp pain shot up Annabeth’s bad leg. She gasped and stumbled.

“What is it?” Percy asked.

She tried to stagger toward the ladder. Why was she moving backward instead? Her legs swept out from under her and she fell on her face.

“Her ankle!” Hazel shouted from the ladder. “Cut it! Cut it!”

Annabeth’s mind was woolly from the pain. Cut her ankle?

Apparently Percy didn’t realize what Hazel meant either. Then something yanked Annabeth backward and dragged her toward the pit. Percy lunged. He grabbed her arm, but the momentum carried him along as well.

“Help them!” Hazel yelled.

Annabeth glimpsed Nico hobbling in their direction, Hazel trying to disentangle her cavalry sword from the rope ladder. Their other friends were still focused on the statue, and Hazel’s cry was lost in the general shouting and the rumbling of the cavern.

Annabeth sobbed as she hit the edge of the pit. Her legs went over the side. Too late, she realized what was happening: she was tangled in the spider silk. She should have cut it away immediately. She had thought it was just loose line, but with the entire floor covered in cobwebs, she hadn’t noticed that one of the strands was wrapped around her foot—and the other end went straight into the pit. It was attached to something heavy down in the darkness, something that was pulling her in.

“No,” Percy muttered, light dawning in his eyes. “My sword…”

But he couldn’t reach Riptide without letting go of Annabeth’s arm, and Annabeth’s strength was gone. She slipped over the edge. Percy fell with her.

Her body slammed into something. She must have blacked out briefly from the pain. When she could see again, she realized that she’d fallen partway into the pit and was dangling over the void. Percy had managed to grab a ledge about fifteen feet below the top of the chasm. He was holding on with one hand, gripping Annabeth’s wrist with the other, but the pull on her leg was much too strong.

No escape, said a voice in the darkness below. I go to Tartarus, and you will come too.

Annabeth wasn’t sure if she actually heard Arachne’s voice or if it was just in her mind.

The pit shook. Percy was the only thing keeping her from falling. He was barely holding on to a ledge the size of a bookshelf.

Nico leaned over the edge of the chasm, thrusting out his hand, but he was much too far away to help. Hazel was yelling for the others, but even if they heard her over all the chaos, they’d never make it in time.

Annabeth’s leg felt like it was pulling free of her body. Pain washed everything in red. The force of the Underworld tugged at her like dark gravity. She didn’t have the strength to fight. She knew she was too far down to be saved.

“Percy, let me go,” she croaked. “You can’t pull me up.”

His face was white with effort. She could see in his eyes that he knew it was hopeless.

“Never,” he said. He looked up at Nico, fifteen feet above. “The other side, Nico! We’ll see you there. Understand?”

Nico’s eyes widened. “But—”

“Lead them there!” Percy shouted. “Promise me!”

“I—I will.”

Below them, the voice laughed in the darkness. Sacrifices. Beautiful sacrifices to wake the goddess.

Percy tightened his grip on Annabeth’s wrist. His face was gaunt, scraped and bloody, his hair dusted with cobwebs, but when he locked eyes with her, she thought he had never looked more handsome.

“We’re staying together,” he promised. “You’re not getting away from me. Never again.”

Only then did she understand what would happen. A one-way trip. A very hard fall.

“As long as we’re together,” she said.

She heard Nico and Hazel still screaming for help. She saw the sunlight far, far above—maybe the last sunlight she would ever see.

Then Percy let go of his tiny ledge, and together, holding hands, he and Annabeth fell into the endless darkness.

LEO WAS STILL IN SHOCK.

Everything had happened so quickly. They had secured grappling lines to the Athena Parthenos just as the floor gave way, and the final columns of webbing snapped. Jason and Frank dove down to save the others, but they’d only found Nico and Hazel hanging from the rope ladder. Percy and Annabeth were gone. The pit to Tartarus had been buried under several tons of debris. Leo pulled the Argo II out of the cavern seconds before the entire place imploded, taking the rest of the parking lot with it.

The Argo II was now parked on a hill overlooking the city. Jason, Hazel, and Frank had returned to the scene of the catastrophe, hoping to dig through the rubble and find a way to save Percy and Annabeth, but they’d come back demoralized. The cavern was simply gone. The scene was swarming with police and rescue workers. No mortals had been hurt, but the Italians would be scratching their heads for months, wondering how a massive sinkhole had opened right in the middle of a parking lot and swallowed a dozen perfectly good cars.

Dazed with grief, Leo and the others carefully loaded the Athena Parthenos into the hold, using the ship’s hydraulic winches with an assist from Frank Zhang, part-time elephant. The statue just fit, though what they were going to do with it, Leo had no idea.

Coach Hedge was too miserable to help. He kept pacing the deck with tears in his eyes, pulling at his goatee and slapping the side of his head, muttering, “I should have saved them! I should have blown up more stuff!”

Finally Leo told him to go belowdecks and secure everything for departure. He wasn’t doing any good beating himself up.

The six demigods gathered on the quarterdeck and gazed at the distant column of dust still rising from the site of the implosion.

Leo rested his hand on the Archimedes sphere, which now sat on the helm, ready to be installed. He should have been excited. It was the biggest discovery of his life—even bigger than Bunker 9. If he could decipher Archimedes’s scrolls, he could do amazing things. He hardly dared to hope, but he might even be able to build a new control disk for a certain dragon friend of his.

Still, the price had been too high.

He could almost hear Nemesis laughing. I told you we could do business, Leo Valdez.

He had opened the fortune cookie. He’d gotten the access code for the sphere and saved Frank and Hazel. But the sacrifice had been Percy and Annabeth. Leo was sure of it.

“It’s my fault,” he said miserably.

The others stared at him. Only Hazel seemed to understand. She’d been with him at the Great Salt Lake.

“No,” she insisted. “No, this is Gaea’s fault. It had nothing to do with you.”

Leo wanted to believe that, but he couldn’t. They’d started this voyage with Leo messing up, firing on New Rome. They’d ended in old Rome with Leo breaking a cookie and paying a price much worse than an eye.

“Leo, listen to me.” Hazel gripped his hand. “I won’t allow you to take the blame. I couldn’t bear that after—after Sammy…”

She choked up, but Leo knew what she meant. His bisabuelo had blamed himself for Hazel’s disappearance. Sammy had lived a good life, but he’d gone to his grave believing that he’d spent a cursed diamond and doomed the girl he loved.

Leo didn’t want to make Hazel miserable all over again, but this was different. True success requires sacrifice. Leo had chosen to break that cookie. Percy and Annabeth had fallen into Tartarus. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Nico di Angelo shuffled over, leaning on his black sword. “Leo, they’re not dead. If they were, I could feel it.”

“How can you be sure?” Leo asked. “If that pit really led to…you know…how could you sense them so far away?”

Nico and Hazel shared a look, maybe comparing notes on their Hades/Pluto death radar. Leo shivered. Hazel had never seemed like a child of the Underworld to him, but Nico di Angelo—that guy was creepy.

“We can’t be one hundred percent sure,” Hazel admitted. “But I think Nico is right. Percy and Annabeth are still alive…at least, so far.”

Jason pounded his fist against the rail. “I should’ve been paying attention. I could have flown down and saved them.”

“Me, too,” Frank moaned. The big dude looked on the verge of tears.

Piper put her hand on Jason’s back. “It’s not your fault, either of you. You were trying to save the statue.”

“She’s right,” Nico said. “Even if the pit hadn’t been buried, you couldn’t have flown into it without being pulled down. I’m the only one who has actually been into Tartarus. It’s impossible to describe how powerful that place is. Once you get close, it sucks you in. I never stood a chance.”

Frank sniffled. “Then Percy and Annabeth don’t stand a chance either?”

Nico twisted his silver skull ring. “Percy is the most powerful demigod I’ve ever met. No offense to you guys, but it’s true. If anybody can survive, he will, especially if he’s got Annabeth at his side. They’re going to find a way through Tartarus.”

Jason turned. “To the Doors of Death, you mean. But you told us it’s guarded by Gaea’s most powerful forces. How could two demigods possibly—?”

“I don’t know,” Nico admitted. “But Percy told me to lead you guys to Epirus, to the mortal side of the doorway. He’s planning on meeting us there. If we can survive the House of Hades, fight our way through Gaea’s forces, then maybe we can work together with Percy and Annabeth and seal the Doors of Death from both sides.”

“And get Percy and Annabeth back safely?” Leo asked.

“Maybe.”

Leo didn’t like the way Nico said that, as if he wasn’t sharing all his doubts. Besides, Leo knew something about locks and doors. If the Doors of Death needed to be sealed from both sides, how could they do that unless someone stayed in the Underworld, trapped?

Nico took a deep breath. “I don’t know how they’ll manage it, but Percy and Annabeth will find a way. They’ll journey through Tartarus and find the Doors of Death. When they do, we have to be ready.”

“It won’t be easy,” Hazel said. “Gaea will throw everything she’s got at us to keep us from reaching Epirus.”

“What else is new?” Jason sighed.

Piper nodded. “We’ve got no choice. We have to seal the Doors of Death before we can stop the giants from raising Gaea. Otherwise her armies will never die. And we’ve got to hurry. The Romans are in New York. Soon, they’ll be marching on Camp Half-Blood.”

“We’ve got one month at best,” Jason added. “Ephialtes said Gaea would awaken in exactly one month.”

Leo straightened. “We can do it.”

Everyone stared at him.

“The Archimedes sphere can upgrade the ship,” he said, hoping he was right. “I’m going to study those ancient scrolls we got. There’s got to be all kinds of new weapons I can make. We’re going to hit Gaea’s armies with a whole new arsenal of hurt.”

At the prow of the ship, Festus creaked his jaw and blew fire defiantly.

Jason managed a smile. He clapped Leo on the shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan, Admiral. You want to set the course?”

They kidded him, calling him Admiral, but for once Leo accepted the title. This was his ship. He hadn’t come this far to be stopped.

They would find this House of Hades. They’d take the Doors of Death. And by the gods, if Leo had to design a grabber arm long enough to snatch Percy and Annabeth out of Tartarus, then that’s what he would do.

Nemesis wanted him to wreak vengeance on Gaea? Leo would be happy to oblige. He was going to make Gaea sorry she had ever messed with Leo Valdez.

“Yeah.” He took one last look at the cityscape of Rome, turning bloodred in the sunset. “Festus, raise the sails. We’ve got some friends to save.”

Glossary

AΘE alpha, theta, epsilon. In Greek it stands for of the Athenians , or the children of Athena.

Achelous a potamus , or river god Alcyoneus the eldest of the giants born to Gaea, destined to fight Pluto Amazons a nation of all-female warriors Aphrodite the Greek goddess of love and beauty. She was married to Hephaestus, but she loved Ares, the god of war. Roman form: Venus Arachne a weaver who claimed to have skills superior to Athena’s. This angered the goddess, who destroyed Arachne’s tapestry and loom. Arachne hung herself, and Athena brought her back to life as a spider.

Archimedes a Greek mathematician , physicist , engineer , inventor , and astronomer who lived between 287 and 212 BCE and is regarded as one of the leading scientists in classical antiquity Ares the Greek god of war; the son of Zeus and Hera, and half brother to Athena. Roman form: Mars argentum silver Argo II the fantastical ship built by Leo, which can both sail and fly and has Festus’s bronze dragon head as its figurehead. The ship was named after the Argo, the vessel used by a band of Greek heroes who accompanied Jason on his quest to find the Golden Fleece.

Athena the Greek goddess of wisdom. Roman form: Minerva Athena Parthenos a giant statue of Athena: the most famous Greek statue of all time augury a sign of something coming, an omen; the practice of divining the future aurum gold Bacchus the Roman god of wine and revelry. Greek form: Dionysus ballista (ballistae , pl.) a Roman missile siege weapon that launched a large projectile at a distant target (see also Scorpion ballista ) Bellona a Roman goddess of war Camp Half -Blood the training ground for Greek demigods, located on Long Island, New York Camp Jupiter the training ground for Roman demigods, located between the Oakland Hills and the Berkeley Hills, in California Celestial bronze a rare metal deadly to monsters centaur a race of creatures that is half human, half horse centurion an officer of the Roman army Ceres the Roman goddess of agriculture. Greek form: Demeter charmspeak a blessing bestowed by Aphrodite on her children that enables them to persuade others with their voice chiton a Greek garment; a sleeveless piece of linen or wool secured at the shoulders by brooches and at the waist by a belt Chrysaor the brother of Pegasus, the son of Poseidon and Medusa; known as “the Gold Sword”

Circe a Greek sorceress. In ancient times, she turned Odysseus’s crew into swine.

Colosseum an elliptical amphitheater in the center of Rome, Italy. Capable of seating 50,000 spectators, the Colosseum was used for gladiatorial contests and public spectacles such as mock sea battles, animal hunts, executions, re-enactments of famous battles, and dramas.

cornucopia a large horn-shaped container overflowing with edibles or wealth in some form. The cornucopia was created when Heracles (Roman: Hercules ) wrestled with the river god Achelous and wrenched off one of his horns.

Cyclops a member of a primordial race of giants (Cyclopes , pl.), each with a single eye in the middle of his or her forehead Daedalus in Greek mythology, a skilled craftsman who created the Labyrinth on Crete in which the Minotaur (part man, part bull) was kept Deianira Heracles’s second wife. She was of such striking beauty that both Heracles and Achelous wanted to marry her and there was a contest to win her hand. The centaur Nessus tricked her into killing Heracles by dipping his tunic in what she thought was a love potion but was actually Nessus’s poisonous blood.

Demeter the Greek goddess of agriculture, a daughter of the Titans Rhea and Kronos. Roman form: Ceres denarius (denarii , pl.) the most common coin in the Roman currency system Dionysus the Greek god of wine and revelry, a son of Zeus. Roman form: Bacchus Doors of Death a well-hidden passageway that when open allows souls to travel from the Underworld to the world of mortals drachma the silver coin of Ancient Greece drakon gigantic serpent eidolon possessing spirit Ephialtes and Otis twin giants, sons of Gaea Epirus a region presently in northwestern Greece and southern Albania Eurystheus a grandson of Perseus, who, through the favor of Hera, inherited the kingship of Mycenae, which Zeus had intended for Heracles faun a Roman forest god, part goat and part man. Greek form: satyr Fortuna the Roman goddess of fortune and good luck. Greek form: Tyche Forum The Roman Forum was the center of ancient Rome , a plaza where Romans conducted business, trials, and religious activities.

Gaea the Greek earth goddess; mother of Titans, giants, Cyclopes, and other monsters. Roman form: Terra gladius a short sword Gorgons three monstrous sisters who have hair of living, venomous snakes. The most famous, Medusa, had eyes that turned the beholder to stone.

greaves shin armor Greek fire an incendiary weapon used in naval battles because it can continue burning in water Hades the Greek god of death and riches. Roman form: Pluto Hadrian a Roman Emperor who ruled from 117 to 138 CE. He is best known for building Hadrian’s Wall , which marked the northern limit of Roman Britain . In Rome, he rebuilt the Pantheon and constructed the Temple of Venus and Roma .

Hagno a nymph who is said to have brought up Zeus. On Mount Lycaeus in Arcadia there was a well sacred to and named after her.

harpy a winged female creature that snatches things Hebe the goddess of youth; the daughter of Zeus and Hera, and married to Heracles. Roman form: Juventas Hephaestus the Greek god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Zeus and Hera, and married to Aphrodite. Roman form: Vulcan Hera the Greek goddess of marriage; Zeus’s wife and sister. Roman form: Juno Heracles the Greek equivalent of Hercules; the son of Zeus and Alcmene; the strongest of all mortals Hercules the Roman equivalent of Heracles; the son of Jupiter and Alcmene, who was born with great strength hippocampi creatures that from the waist up have the body of a horse and from the waist down have silvery fish bodies, with glistening scales and rainbow tail fins. They were used to draw Poseidon’s chariot, and sea foam was created by their movement.

hippodrome a Greek stadium for horse racing and chariot racing House of Hades an underground temple in Epirus, Greece, dedicated to the Hades and Persephone, sometimes called a necromanteion, or “oracle of death.” Ancient Greeks believed it marked one entrance to the Underworld, and pilgrims would go there to commune with the dead.

hypogeum the area under a coliseum that housed set pieces and machinery used for special effects ichthyocentaur a fish-centaur described as having the forefeet of a horse, a human torso and head, and a fish tail. It is sometimes shown with a pair of lobster-claw horns.

Imperial gold a rare metal deadly to monsters, consecrated at the Pantheon; its existence was a closely guarded secret of the emperors Invidia the Roman goddess of revenge. Greek form: Nemesis Iris the Greek rainbow goddess and a messenger of the gods; the daughter of Thaumas and Electra. Roman form: Iris Juno the Roman goddess of women, marriage, and fertility; sister and wife of Jupiter; mother of Mars. Greek form: Hera Jupiter the Roman king of the gods; also called Jupiter Optimus Maximus (the best and the greatest). Greek form: Zeus Juventas the Roman goddess of youth. Greek form: Hebe Kalends of July the first day of July, which was sacred to Juno karpoi grain spirits Katoptris Piper’s dagger, once owned by Helen of Troy. The word means “looking glass.”

Keto the Greek goddess of sea monsters and large sea creatures, such as whales and sharks. She is the daughter of Gaea and the sister-wife of Phorcys, god of the dangers of the sea.

Khione the Greek goddess of snow; daughter of Boreas Kronos the Greek god of agriculture, the son of Uranus and Gaea and the father of Zeus. Roman form: Saturn Lar a house god, ancestral spirit of Rome (Lares, pl.).

Lupa the sacred Roman she-wolf that nursed the foundling twins Romulus and Remus Marcus Agrippa a Roman statesman and general; defense minister to Octavian, and responsible for most of his military victories. He commissioned the Pantheon as a temple to all the gods of Ancient Rome.

Mare Nostrum Latin for Our Sea , was a Roman name for the Mediterranean Sea Mars the Roman god of war; also called Mars Ultor. Patron of the empire; divine father of Romulus and Remus. Greek form: Ares Minerva the Roman goddess of wisdom. Greek form: Athena Minotaur a monster with the head of a bull on the body of a man Mist a magic force that disguises things from mortals Mithras Originally a Persian god of the sun, Mithras was worshipped by Roman warriors as a guardian of arms and a patron of soldiers.

muskeg bog Narcissus a Greek hunter who was renowned for his beauty. He was exceptionally proud and disdained those who loved him. Nemesis saw this and attracted Narcissus to a pool where he saw his reflection in the water and fell in love with it. Unable to leave the beauty of his reflection, Narcissus died.

Nemesis the Greek goddess of revenge. Roman form: Invidia Neptune the Roman god of the sea. Greek form: Poseidon Nereids fifty female sea spirits; patrons of sailors and fishermen and caretakers of the sea’s bounty Nessus a crafty centaur who tricked Deianira into killing Heracles New Rome a community near Camp Jupiter where demigods can live together in peace, without interference from mortals or monsters Nike the Greek goddess of strength, speed, and victory. Roman form: Victoria nymph a female nature deity who animates nature nymphaeum a shrine to nymphs Pantheon a building in Rome , Italy , commissioned by Marcus Agrippa as a temple to all the gods of Ancient Rome , and rebuilt by Emperor Hadrian in about 126 CE

pater Latin for father ; also the name of an ancient Roman god of the Underworld, later subsumed by Pluto pauldron a piece of plate armor for the shoulder and the upper part of the arm Pegasus In Greek mythology, a winged divine horse; sired by Poseidon, in his role as horse-god, and foaled by the Gorgon Medusa ; the brother of Chrysaor Persephone the Greek queen of the Underworld; wife of Hades; daughter of Zeus and Demeter . Roman form: Proserpine Phorcys In Greek mythology, a primordial god of the dangers of the sea; son of Gaea; brother-husband of Keto Piazza Navona a city square in Rome , built on the site of the Stadium o f Domitian , where Ancient Romans watched competitive games Pluto the Roman god of death and riches. Greek form: Hades Polybotes the giant son of Gaea, the Earth Mother Pomerian Line the boundary around New Rome, and in ancient times, the city limits of Rome Porphyrion the king of the Giants in Greek and Roman mythology Poseidon the Greek god of the sea; son of the Titans Kronos and Rhea, and brother of Zeus and Hades. Roman form: Neptune praetor an elected Roman magistrate and commander of the army Proserpine Roman queen of the Underworld. Greek form: Persephone Rhea Silvia a priestess and mother of the twins Romulus and Remus, who founded Rome Riptide the name of Percy Jackson’s sword (Anaklusmos in Greek) Romulus and Remus the twin sons of Mars and the priestess Rhea Silvia. They were thrown into the River Tiber by their human father, Amulius, and rescued and raised by a she-wolf. Upon reaching adulthood, they founded Rome.

Saturn the Roman god of agriculture; the son of Uranus and Gaea, and the father of Jupiter. Greek form: Kronos satyr a Greek forest god, part goat and part man. Roman equivalent: faun Scorpion ballista a Roman missile siege weapon that launched a large projectile at a distant target Senatus Populusque Romanus (SPQR) meaning “The Senate and People of Rome,” refers to the government of the Roman Republic and is used as an official emblem of Rome skolopendra a gargantuan Greek sea monster with hairy nostrils, a flat crayfish-like tail, and rows of webbed feet lining its flanks Stymphalian birds in Greek mythology, man-eating birds with bronze beaks and sharp metallic feathers they could launch at their victims; sacred to Ares , the god of war Sybilline Books a collection of prophecies in rhyme written in Greek. Tarquinius Superbus, a king of Rome, bought them from a prophetess named Sibyl and consulted them in times of great danger.

Tartarus husband of Gaea; spirit of the abyss; father of the giants telkhines mysterious sea demons and smiths native to the islands of Kaos and Rhodes; children of Thalassa and Pontus; they had flippers instead of hands and dogs’ heads and were known as fish children Terminus the Roman god of boundaries and landmarks Terra the Roman goddess of the Earth. Greek form: Gaea Thanatos the Greek god of death. Roman form: Letus thyrsus Bacchus’s weapon, a staff topped by a pinecone and twined with ivy Tiber River the third-longest river in Italy. Rome was founded on its banks. In Ancient Rome, executed criminals were thrown into the river.

Tiberius was Roman Emperor from 14 CE to 37 CE. He was one of Rome’s greatest generals , but he came to be remembered as a reclusive and somber ruler who never really wanted to be emperor.

Titans a race of powerful Greek deities, descendants of Gaia and Uranus , who ruled during the Golden Age and were overthrown by a race of younger gods, the Olympians Trevi Fountain a fountain in the Trevi district in Rome. Standing more than eighty-five feet high and sixty-five feet wide, it is the largest Baroque fountain in the city and one of the most famous fountains in the world.

trireme an Ancient Greek or Roman warship, having three tiers of oars on each side Tyche the Greek goddess of good luck; daughter of Hermes and Aphrodite. Roman form: Fortuna Venus the Roman goddess of love and beauty. She was married to Vulcan, but she loved Mars, the god of war. Greek form: Aphrodite Vestal Virgins Roman priestesses of Vesta, goddess of the hearth. The Vestals were free of the usual social obligations to marry and bear children and took a vow of chastity in order to devote themselves to the study and observance of ritual.

Via Labicana an ancient road of Italy, leading east-southeast from Rome Via Principalis the main street in a Roman camp or fort Victoria the Roman goddess of strength, speed, and victory. Greek form: Nike Vulcan the Roman god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Jupiter and Juno, and married to Venus. Greek form: Hephaestus Wolf House a ruined mansion, originally commissioned by Jack London near Sonoma, California, where Percy Jackson was trained as a Roman demigod by Lupa Zeus Greek god of the sky and king of the gods. Roman form: Jupiter

Coming Fall 2013

The Heroes of Olympus, Book Four

THE HOUSE OF HADES

Praise for Percy Jackson and the Olympians by Rick Riordan: The Lightning Thief “Perfectly paced, with electrifying moments chasing each other like heartbeats.”

—Th e New York Times Book Review The Sea of Monsters “In a feat worthy of his heroic subjects, Riordan crafts a sequel stronger than his compelling debut.”

—Publishers Weekly (starred review) The Titan’s Curse “All in all, a winner of Olympic proportions.”

—School Library Journal The Battle of the Labyrinth “Look no further for the next Harry Potter; meet Percy Jackson, as legions of fans already have.”

—Kirkus Reviews (starred review) The Last Olympian “The hordes of young readers who have devoured Rick Riordan’s books …will no doubt gulp down this concluding volume as greedily as they would a plateful of ambrosia, or maybe pizza.”

—Th e Wall Street Journal

Praise for The Kane Chronicles by Rick Riordan: The Red Pyramid “The first volume in the Kane Chronicles, this fantasy adventure delivers what fans loved about the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series: young protagonists with previously unsuspected magical powers, a riveting story marked by headlong adventure, a complex background rooted in ancient mythology, and wry, witty twenty-first-century narration.”

—Booklist (starred review) “A truly original take on Egyptian mythology …
A must-have book.”

—School Library Journal (starred review) “Riordan fans young and old will eat this new book up.”

—Th e New York Times Book Review The Throne of Fire “…Riordan kickstarts the action, never lets up on the gas, balances laughs and losses with a sure hand, and expertly sets up the coming climactic struggle without (thankfully) ending on a cliff-hanger. It’s a grand ride so far, showing nary a sign of slowing down.”

—School Library Journal (starred review) “Riordan combines hard-hitting action scenes, powerful magic, and comic relief with the internal waves of love, jealousy, and self-doubt that make his young heroes so very human.”

—Booklist

The Serpent’s Shadow

“[The] epic battle and the quiet concluding chapters glow, alternating heroism and humanity, with any trace of bombast erased by the wry wit of the alternating narrators, Sadie and Carter … powered by Riordan’s talent for creating vividly written action scenes and his ability to keep a complicated story moving, this volume brings the Kane Chronicles series to a rousing conclusion.”

—Booklist

“Beyond the explosive action and fireworks, Riordan deftly develops the theme of the duality of the universe—order versus chaos, living a normal life versus risking the extraordinary, being protected by parents versus growing up and stepping out of their shadows. A rousing adventure with plenty of magic and food for thought.”

—Kirkus Reviews

Praise for The Heroes of Olympus by Rick Riordan:

Book One: The Lost Hero

“Percy Jackson fans can rest easy: this first book in Riordan’s Heroes of Olympus spin-off series is a fast-paced adventure with enough familiar elements to immediately hook those eager to revisit his modern world of mythological mayhem. Rotating among his three protagonists, Riordan’s storytelling is as polished as ever, brimming with wit, action, and heart—his devotees won’t be disappointed.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Riordan [maximizes] the elements that made the first series so popular: irreverent heroes, plenty of tension-filled moments fighting monsters, and authentic classical mythology mixed in with modern life. Completely in control of pacing and tone, he balances a faultless comic banter against deeper notes that reveal the characters’ vulnerabilities. With Percy Jackson slated to make an appearance in later volumes, fans nostalgic for the old books should find in this new series everything they’ve been pining for.”

—Horn Book

Book Two: The Son of Neptune “Riordan’s seamless weaving of various cultural mythologies into a modern landscape continues to shine in [The] Son of Neptune. As in previous books, the plot is engrossing, the characters robust and compelling. Percy, Frank, and Hazel alternate as narrators without missing a beat of pace, suspense, or humor. Readers will find themselves automatically consumed by the story without having read the first book, though some knowledge of Percy’s previous adventures will help fill in minor gaps of background information. [The] Son of Neptune is yet another absorbing and exciting addition to Riordan’s chronicles.”

—VOYA (starred review) “Should pacing and wit continue unabated into the third volume, whose foretold European setting promises further freshness, fans will eagerly await numbers four and five.”

—Kirkus Reviews

About the Author Rick Riordan is the author of the New York Times #1 best-selling The Lost Hero and The Son of Neptune, the first two books in his Heroes of Olympus series. He also penned the New York Times #1 best-selling Percy Jackson and the Olympians series: Book One: The Lightning Thief; Book Two: The Sea of Monster s; Book Three: The Titan’s Curse; Book Four: The Battle of the Labyrinth; and Book Five: The Last Olympian. His three books in the Kane Chronicles, based on Egyptian mythology, The Red Pyramid, The Throne of Fire, and The Serpent’s Shadow, were New York Times best sellers as well. Rick lives in San Antonio, Texas, with his wife and two sons. To learn more about him, visit his Web site at www.rickriordan.com.