Hatchetfield's Camp.

A God Buys Us Cheeseburgers

The next afternoon, June 14, seven days before the solstice, our train rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. We hadn't taken a shower since Half-Blood Hill, and I was sure that was obvious.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Hannah said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"We can't use phones, right?"

"I'm not talking about phones."

We wandered through downtown for about half an hour, though I wasn't sure what Hannah was looking for.

The air was dry and hot, which felt weird after the humidity of St. Louis. Everywhere we turned, the Rocky Mountains seemed to be staring at me, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city.

Finally we found an empty do-it-yourself car wash. We veered toward the stall farthest from the street, keeping our eyes open for patrol cars. We were three adolescents hanging out at a car wash without a car; any cop worth his doughnuts would figure we were up to no good.

"What exactly are we doing?" I asked, as Peter took out the spray gun.

"It's seventy-five cents," he grumbled. "T've only got two quarters left. Hannah?"

"Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out."

I fished out my last bit of change and passed Peter a quarter, which left me two nickels and one drachma from Medusa's place.

"Excellent," Peter said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."

"What are you talking about?"

He fed in the quarters and set the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing."

"Instant messaging?"

"Iris-messaging," Hannah corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods."

"You summon the goddess with a spray gun?"

Peter pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."
Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors.

Hannah held her palm out to me. "Drachma, please."

I handed it over.

She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering." She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden
shimmer.

"Half-Blood Hill," Hannah requested.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then I was looking through the mist at strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. We seemed to be on the porch of the Big House.

Standing with his back to us at the railing was a sandy-haired guy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

"Max!" I called.

He turned, eyes wide. I could swear he was standing three feet in front of me through a screen of mist, except I could only see the part of him that appeared in the rainbow.

"Daniel!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Hannah, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"

"We're...uh...fine," Hannah stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought— Chiron—I mean—"