Annabeth yelped as an undead hand brushed her neck. She crumpled, which was enough to send me into slashy-slashy mode. As Grover dragged Annabeth to safety, I showed the Trojans the sharp edge of my ballpoint pen…and wow, I really need to come up with some better heroic expressions.
Once all the Trojans were dust, I rushed to Annabeth’s side.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her legs wobbled when she tried to stand.
Grover locked eyes with me, clearly worried, but when Annabeth says she’s fine, you have to respect that, at least until she’s ready to talk about it. She did seem to recover a lot quicker than I did.
Papou held his broom at attention and gave us a warrior’s salute. “You are excellent rat killers.”
“Thanks,” Annabeth said.
“Would you like some baklava? I don’t think the rats got into it.”
“Yes!” Grover said.
“Nope!” said Nope.
“Thank you, maybe another time,” Annabeth told him.
Papou frowned. “But you will not tell the health department?”
“They wouldn’t believe us,” I said.
Papou nodded with the wisdom of a New York shopkeeper who has seen it all. “True. They were very big rats.”
“Come on,” Annabeth told us; then she darted around the side of the building.
I wasn’t sure where she was going, but, hey, alleys were apparently my superpower. When Grover and I caught up with her, she was climbing the rungs of a fire-escape ladder.
How she bounced back so quickly, I didn’t know. I was still queasy from my puke-trip to Troy. I also didn’t understand what Annabeth was planning. Surely Hecuba wouldn’t still be hanging out on the roof. She must have already moved on to her next target.…
Nevertheless, I picked up Nope, draped him over my shoulders like a fuzzy travel pillow with poor bladder control, and started to climb.
When we got to the roof, I found—shocker!—Annabeth was right. Hecuba was still holding court on top of Papou’s Pastries in all her shaggy, red-eyed glory.
The hellhound looked conflicted, if hellhounds can look that way. She paced back and forth, alternately growling, whining, and pawing the roof as she sniffed the air.
“She smells Nope,” I guessed, shifting the pup into my arms.
At Sal’s Souvlaki, Hecuba must have been too busy to notice the puppy between the scintillating smells of roasted lamb, terrorized mortals, and dead Trojans. Now she eyed us suspiciously—half-angry, half-intrigued—as little Nope squirmed in my arms and peed.
“Hey, Hecuba.” I tried to speak calmly, which wasn’t easy in my present state of urine-soaked nausea. “This is Nope. He needs a hellhound mom.”
Nope whined and kicked at my stomach, making clear what he really needed was a quick exit.
I took another step toward Hecuba. “You did a great job of scaring those—those terrible Greeks. I think they really felt your pain. I knowIdid.”
Hecuba snarled.
Grover’s face told me that I didn’t want a translation of what Hecuba was saying. Annabeth nodded at me to keep going. She held Hecuba’s leash behind her back, but I didn’t want anybody trying to attach it to Hecuba’s collar until the hellhound calmed down a little more…ifshe calmed down.
I tried to remember how I talked to Mrs. O’Leary. It seemed so natural with my own hellhound friend. With Hecuba it was more like…well, like talking to Hera, a godly queen who didn’t much like me and could also maul me to death.
“We really miss you at home,” I said. “I’m sure Gale is worried about you, wherever she is. And if you’re still gone when Hecate gets back, she’ll be really sad.”
More growling. I sensed that Hecuba had mixed feelings about her housemates.
“I know you’re probably enjoying your freedom,” I said. “I get that. But I found this poor puppy abandoned on the streets. And I thought…I thought about you. Such a good mother to your own kids. You suffered so much when they…you know, when they died. I thought you’d understand how to take care of this poor little guy.”