LOVE THE WAY YOU LIE . . . hoo

II.

ON THE WAY back, Hazel tripped over a gold bar.

The gold bar popped out of the ground just in time for Hazel's foot to hit it. Nico tried to catch her, but she took a spill and scraped her hands.

"You okay?" Mia knelt next to her and reached for the bar of gold.

"Don't!" Hazel warned.

Mia froze. "Right. Sorry. It's just . . . holy cow. That thing is huge, and that's saying something." She pulled a flask of nectar from her backpack and poured a little on Hazel's hands. Immediately the cuts started to heal. "Can you stand?"

She helped her up. They all stared at the gold. It was the size of a bread loaf, stamped with a serial number and the words u.s. treasury.

Nico shook his head. "How in Tartarus—?"

"I don't know," Hazel said miserably. "It could've been buried there by robbers or dropped off a wagon a hundred years ago. Maybe it migrated from the nearest bank vault. Whatever's in the ground, anywhere close to me — it just pops up. And the more valuable it is—"

"The more dangerous it is." Nico frowned. "Should we cover it up? If the fauns find it . . ."

Hazel nodded. "It should sink back underground after I leave, eventually, but just to be sure . . ."

She pointed at the gold bar and narrowed her eyes at it. The gold levitated, then glowed with heat.

Nico gulped. "Um, Hazel, are you sure . . .?"

She made a fist. The gold bent like putty. Hazel forced it to twist into a giant, lumpy ring. Then she flicked her hand toward the ground. Her million-dollar doughnut slammed into the earth. It sank so deep, nothing was left but a scar of fresh dirt.

Mia whistled. "That was . . . terrifying."

Inside the camp, horns blew again.

"Hurry!" Hazel told them, and they ran for the gates.

The first four cohorts, each forty kids strong, stood in rows in front of their barracks on either side of the Via Praetoria. The Fifth Cohort assembled at the very end, in front of the principia, since their barracks were tucked in the back corner of camp next to the stables and the latrines.

The campers were dressed for war. Their polished chain mail and greaves gleamed over purple T-shirts and jeans. Sword-and-skull designs decorated their helmets. Even their leather combat boots looked ferocious with their iron cleats, great for marching through mud or stomping on faces.

In front of the legionnaires, like a line of giant dominoes, stood their red and gold shields, each the size of a refrigerator door. Every legionnaire carried a harpoonlike spear called a pilum, a gladius, a dagger, and about a hundred pounds of other equipment.

Mia, Nico, and Hazel jogged down the street as everyone was coming to attention, so their entrance was really obvious. Their footsteps echoed on the stones.

Hazel ran past Reyna, who was cantering back and forth on her pegasus Scipio. Her metal dogs Aurum and Argentum trotted at her side. Her purple officer's cape billowed behind her.

"Hazel Levesque," she called, "so glad you could join us."

Hazel hurried to her place in line next to Frank and stood at attention.

Nico joined Percy, who was standing off to one side with a couple of guards. Percy's hair was wet from the baths. He'd put on fresh clothes, but he still looked uncomfortable. Mia sighed and followed Nico, avoiding Percy's gaze on her as her eyes darted around.