HIRAETH →jason grace

one

ANNABETH

UNTIL SHE HAD MET THE EXPLODING STATUE, Annabeth had thought she had prepared for everything.

She had paced the deck of their flying warship the Argo II, checking and double checking the ballistae to make sure they were locked down. She had confirmed the white "We come in peace" flag was flying from the mast. She reviewed the plan with the rest of the crew—and the backup plan, and the backup for the backup plan.

Most important, she had pulled their war-crazed chaperone, Coach Gleeson Hedge, and encouraged him to sit back and relax most definitely in his cabin, watching the five-hour mixed martial arts movie series they had specifically picked out for him. They were absolutely not, under any circumstances flying a huge warship into a Roman camp with a satyr that was waving a club and yelling "Die!"

Everything seemed in order. Even that cold chill she had felt when they took off had disappeared. That should be a good sign, right?

Annabeth couldn't stop second-guessing herself. What if this was a bad idea? What if the Romans panicked and attacked on sight? There was another question the girl didn't want to ask, but it weighed heavily on her.

The Argo II did not look friendly. Two hundred feet long, with a bronze plated hull, mounted repeating crossbows fore and aft, a flaming metal dragon for a figurehead, and two rotating ballistae amidships that could fire explosive bolts powerful enough to break through concrete... well it wasn't the friendliest ride to show their neighbors.

Annabeth had tried to give the Romans a heads up. She'd asked Leo to send one of his special inventions—a holographic scroll—to alert their friends inside the camp. Leo had wanted to paint a giant message on their hull—WASSUP? with a smiley face— but Annabeth had vetoed that idea. She had a sneaking suspicion that Lina had done it anyway, since the girl had taken a while to board the ship.

Too late to turn back now.

The clouds broke around their hull, revealing the gold-and-green carpet of the Oakland Hills below them. Annabeth gripped one of the bronze shields that lined the starboard rail.

Her four crewmates took their places.

On the stern quarterdeck, Leo rushed around like a madman, checking his gauges and wrestling levers. Most helmsmen would've been satisfied with a pilot's wheel or a tiller. Leo had also installed a keyboard, monitor, aviation controls from a Learjet, a dubstep soundboard, and motion-control sensors from a Nintendo Wii. He could turn the ship by pulling on the throttle, fire weapons by sampling an album, or raise sails by shaking his Wii controllers really fast. Even by demigod standards, Leo was seriously ADHD.

Piper paced back and forth between the mainmast and the ballistae, practicing her lines.

"Lower your weapons," she murmured. "We just want to talk."

Her charmspeak was so powerful, the words flowed over Annabeth, filling her with the desire to drop her dagger and have a nice long chat.

For a child of Aphrodite, Piper tried hard to play down her beauty. Today she was dressed in tattered jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a white tank top with pink Hello Kitty designs. (Maybe as a joke, though Annabeth could never be sure with Piper.) Her choppy brown hair was braided down the right side with an eagle's feather.