Page 6 of Wrath of the Triple Goddess

“You want me to wait around at the apartment until you get home?” I asked her. I was thinking I could have dinner with her and Paul, give her another chance to tell me why Gramercy Park bothered her so much.

“No, no, that’s all right.” She managed to reconstruct her careful smile. “This should be a memorable Halloween experience for you, at any rate. Hecate is the goddess of ghosts, isn’t she?”

“And magic!” Grover volunteered. “And nighttime! And manipulating the Mist!”

I frowned. Hecate had run through her entire résumé while she was terrifying me with flames and animal heads, but she’d left out the part about manipulating the Mist. I wondered why. Now that I thought about it, my friend Hazel had said something along those lines…how the goddess had encouraged her to learn that skill.

My mom reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I should probably try to get some more writing done. Keep me posted if you can. And remember to pack your toothbrush, okay?”

We were going to spend Halloween week in a creepy goddess’s house, and all my mom was worried about was my dental hygiene. I guess she had to focus on the things she could help with.

“I will,” I said. “Uh…good luck with the writing.”

I realized I’d barely tasted my blueberry smoothie. I carried it out while Grover bounced along at my side, rambling about his strategies for making friends with godly house pets.

I glanced back at my mom one last time. She was frowning intently at her computer screen, but I doubted she would be doing any more writing this afternoon. Instead, she’d be googling Hecate. I wondered what about Gramercy Park had made her so unsettled. I had a feeling I’d soon find out.…

After grabbing my demigod go bag (complete with toothbrush) at home, I headed downtown to find Annabeth.

The School of Design, New York City, is a private boarding school not far from Gramercy Park. I figured it would be easier to find Annabeth there in person rather than trying to send an Iris-message. Demigods can’t use cell phones (monster homing beacon, instant death, etc.). Iris-messages are a good substitute, but they require some planning. You don’t want to appear as a shimmering rainbow vision and start talking to your friend when there are a bunch of mortal observers around. (Side effects can include panic attacks, mass hysteria, and psychological misdiagnoses. Ask your doctor if Iris-messages are right for you.)

SODNYC occupies a cluster of townhouses and office buildings right off the Bowery. If not for the banners hanging outside, you’d never guess there is a school there. I didn’t know my way around the whole campus, but I knew the three places where I was most likely to find Annabeth: her dormitory, the library, and the Black Ant, a Mexican restaurant around the corner. Figuring that she liked to study in the afternoon, I headed for the library.

Technically, they shouldn’t have allowed me in. The library is for students only, but the security guard on duty, Florence, knew me and liked me, so she just smiled and nodded as I walked past. See? I can be charming when I’m not causing chaos. Sometimes even when Iamcausing chaos.

This month’s student art display featured “recycled clothing”—in this case meaning a bunch of evening gowns and tuxedos made from plastic bags, candy wrappers, and flattened aluminum cans. I didn’t understand it, but I guess that’s why I wasn’t in design school.

I climbed the stairs to the third floor. Annabeth was camped out in her usual spot—a comfy sofa arrangement in the architecture section—with her study buddies, Dave and Hana, who were laughing quietly at something Annabeth had just said. She wore an oversize UC Berkeley sweatshirt, distressed jeans, and new Doc Martens. Her hair was Dutch-braided, the tails curled over her shoulders like raptor talons. Her eyes gleamed with humor.

I’m not sure if you’ve ever had this experience—when you see someone you know from a distance, and for a split second you don’t recognize them. Your brain just registers,Oh, that person looks amazing.Then you realize it’s someone you’ve known for years—your girlfriend, in fact—and that sends a tingle of happiness through your whole body.

Sure, maybe I had a twinge of angst, too, because she was sitting there laughing with other people, and for the moment I was on the outside. I wouldn’t call it jealousy, though. More like anxious motivation. Annabeth was a natural people person. Everybody wanted to hang out with her and get her approval. She would always succeed whether I was around or not. That made me even more determined to graduate and get into college with her, even if it meant doing torturous activities like studying or reading.

Wow, the power she had over the way I thought…kinda scary. As a son of Poseidon, all I can do is make watercoolers explode and talk to walruses.

“Hey,” I said.

Dave made room for me on the couch. “’Sup, Percy?”

Hana gave me a forced smile. I don’t think she liked me very much, maybe because she wasn’t sure I was good enough for Annabeth…which, hey, fair concern, but I always tried to be nice to her.

Annabeth took my hand. “We were just talking about our new assignment—redesigning the Met.”

“Oh, nice.” I tried not to shudder. I’d had a bad experience at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and bybad experienceI mean almost getting killed by my sixth-grade math teacher when she turned out to be a Fury.

“I would go full postmodern,” Dave said. “Like, really open up the space and get rid of the classic columns and stuff. That’s so last century.”

“I’d make it avant-garde,” Hana said. “Escher-esque stairways everywhere. You know?”

She aimed the question at me like a challenge. I had no idea what she was talking about, so I just nodded.

“What would you do, Percy?” Dave asked.

I had a moment of panic. I managed to avoid blurting out that the theme was free will versus fate. The only Met redesign I could think of would be to build safe rooms and sword dispensers everywhere so young demigods could survive monster attacks more easily. But I couldn’t exactly share that with Hana and Dave.

“No idea,” I admitted. “I’ll leave designing to the experts.” I turned to Annabeth. “What was your idea?”

Dave and Hana started giggling again.

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