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The god glowered—which Nico knew was his default expression. From the waist down, Terminus was a rough-hewn block of white marble. From the waist up, he’d been sculpted as a curly-haired, muscular man with no arms. Whenever he moved, he reminded Nico of a magician trying to wrestle their way out of a straitjacket for the gathered crowd.

“Save your criticism, eidolon!” said the god. “I was just summoned to twenty different sentry points at the same time. It’s a miracle I didn’t shatter! Now, where’s the intruder? And please don’t tell me, for the twenty-first time, that there isn’t one!”

“There isn’t one,” said Semele. “At least not anymore. We all passed out—even me, and I didn’t know Icouldpass out.”

“There was a voice,” Frank said. “I think all the other sentries heard it.”

He repeated what the Christmas witch had said over the tesserae.

Johan looked at him blankly. “We did not hear this.”

“Which means the actual intrusion probably happened here,” Terminus said. “And the other sentries were victims of some kind of magical distraction—decoys to keep my attention divided until it was too late.”

Nico shivered. “That presence feltveryreal. If it happened simultaneously, everywhere we had sentries stationed…What kind of being has that kind of power?”

“A minor god, obviously,” said Terminus. “At least a level six. No one else could outmaneuver me this way! When I get my hands on whoever it was…”

Everyone politely ignored the fact that Terminus had no hands. Nico was also pretty sure minor-god power levels weren’t a thing.

“I’ll ask the obvious question,” Terminus continued. “Is everyone accounted for?”

Nico scanned the group. Each person’s face reflected their own shell-shocked expression. Then a collective sense of horror seemed to settle over them as they turned to look at the large empty rocking chair on the porch, and realized who was, in fact,notaccounted for.

“Asterion!” Nico and Hazel said in unison.

They led a mad rush into the mythics’ quarters.

The bull-man was gone.

His room reminded Nico of a monastic cell—walls of gray sandstone, a hard-packed dirt floor, no windows, no furniture except a straw mattress and a basket of Asterion’s knitting supplies. Asterion had spent so much of his time at Camp Jupiter knitting, yet none of his finished products were here. Apparently, he’d given them all away as soon as they were done.

Nico’s heart ached. He realized the room was meant to look like part of the Labyrinth, Asterion’s old home and prison. He wondered if the resemblance had brought the bull-man comfort, or if it was simply part of his traumatic history that he couldn’t yet shed.

Johan paced the room, wringing his hands and muttering “No, no, no, no.”

Semele floated above the mattress, her smoke still thick and roiling.

Orcus let loose a screech of pure misery. His small feline tail whipped back and forth.

“He was seven feet tall!” wailed the griffin. “He weighed as much as one of those car things! How can he just begone?”

Nico had no answer. He could still smell the scent of Asterion’s hide, feel the warmth of his last embrace.

“So, do you finally believe us?” demanded Semele. “We are beingtaken!”

“I didn’t disbelieve you before,” Hazel said, though she didn’t seem able to muster much conviction.

“Hmph,” said the eidolon. “In any case, we’ll be leaving at first light. Orcus, Johan, gather your things.”

“What?”asked Frank. “Why?”

“You know exactly why!” snarled Semele. “Someone is kidnapping ourfamily, and you are not able to stop it!”

Nico racked his brain. He couldn’t let things end like this—with half the mythics taken, the other half fleeing. Asterion wouldn’t have wanted that.

He thought about what had happened tonight—the voice from the tesserae, the sensation he’d felt at the Caldecott Tunnel, the way his cacodemons had reacted just beforehand.

He looked down at the Cocoa Puffs, now bouncing around the room as if they sensed nothing amiss….