Page 28 of Wrath of the Triple Goddess

“I get the feeling Eudora is trying to avoid me,” I told him.

Sicky Frog looked miserable.

“Why is she so scared of Hecate?” I asked.

Sicky Frog had no answers.

“Good talk,” I said. “Hope you feel better soon.”

Second idea: I stopped by my history teacher’s classroom. Dr. Sharma had her prep period when I had English. Since we were watching a movie that day in English, I figured I could miss a few minutes.

Dr. Sharma was pretty cool—and not just because she’d saidVery good, Mr. Jacksonthe day before. She knew a lot about ancient cultures.

She’d been bugging me to pick a topic for my paper on a forgotten historical figure. I’d been avoiding it, since I’d met so many forgotten historical figures and killed them all. Now, though, maybe I could ask Dr. Sharma what she knew about Hecuba, queen of Troy. She might be able to tell me something that would help me find the hellhound. If it saved me from breaking my brain against a mountain of history books, all the better.

I strolled up to her open doorway and froze when I looked inside.

The man who was eating a late breakfast at Dr. Sharma’s desk was definitely not Dr. Sharma.

His dark hair and beard were flecked with gray. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket, tie, and dress shirt, with a flannel blanket over his lap. His old-fashioned wheelchair had hand-pushed steel wheels and well-worn black leather armrests. He held a half-eaten bagel in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in other. I registered all these details with perfect clarity, but somehow, I still did not recognize him.

The best way I can describe the feeling is like bungee jumping. One second, you’re at the top of a cliff. The next, the river is hurtling toward you. Your senses are screaming on high alert. You see the water. Then, suddenly, it’s racing away from you again as you recoil into the air, and you’re left halfway between, not sure if you’re in two places at once or nowhere at all.

Finally, my brain caught up.

“M-Mr. Brunner?” I stammered.

I hadn’t called himMr. Brunnersince I was twelve years old, but old habits die hard. Seeing him back behind a teacher’s desk after all these years…

He glanced over with a smile. A dollop of cream cheese clung to his beard. “Percy! Hello, my boy.”

My mind raced. What year was I in? I instinctively started worrying about whether I’d done my Latin homework, because back in sixth grade, he was the only teacher I’d cared about doing well for. My disorientation was even worse because Mr. Brunner looked exactly as he had back then, being secretly immortal and all.

“You teach here now?” I asked.

“Just filling in as a substitute.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Your stepfather recommended me.”

“You know Paul?” I tried to remember when the two of them might have met—the Battle of Manhattan, maybe? I’d been too busy at the time to keep track of who everybody was meeting, fighting, or killing.

Mr. Brunner chuckled. “Of course. Paul is an excellent teacher. He got me on the substitute list for the district.”

“So, you’re watching over a possible demigod at AHS?” I wondered who it might be, and why they hadn’t started manifesting their powers until high school. Molly Leary was always constructing Lego murder-bots in the engineering lab and sending them into the halls to terrorize people. Potential child of Hephaestus?

“No, no, Percy,” Mr. Brunner assured me. “The only demigod I know of at AHS is you. I simply like to teach from time to time, to keep my skills fresh!”

He sounded as if he meant it…though how anyone could enjoy being a substitute teacher was beyond me. That was like volunteering to be the target on an archery range.

He set his cup down on a stack of papers. “I wasn’t expecting you until later in the day. Dr. Sharma has you for fourth period, yes? Ancient Cultures. My favorite!”

I found myself smiling. I couldn’t believe my good luck. This was even better than talking to Dr. Sharma, because with Mr. Brunner, I could tell him everything.

“I’m so glad to see you,” I said. “I need—”

“Just a moment, my boy.” He winced as he shifted in his wheelchair. “I rode here this morning on the Long Island Railroad. My back legs are killing me. Since you’re here, would you mind watching the door while I get out and stretch?”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

Because why not make things more awkward?

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