Percy's heartbeat skyrocketed while Chrysaor walked back and forth, inspecting them like prized cattle. A dozen of his dolphin-man warriors stayed in a ring around them, spears leveled at Percy's chest, while dozens more ransacked the ship, banging and crashing around belowdecks. One carried a box of ambrosia up the stairs. Another carried an armful of ballista bolts and a crate of Greek fire.
"Careful with that!" Annabeth warned. "It'll blow up both our ships."
"Ha!" Chrysaor said. "We know all about Greek fire, girl. Don't worry. We've been looting and pillaging ships on the Mare Nostrum for eons."
"Your accent sounds familiar," Percy said. "Have we met?"
"I haven't had the pleasure." Chrysaor's golden gorgon mask snarled at him, though it was impossible to tell what his real expression might be underneath. "But I've heard all about you, Percy Jackson. Oh, yes, the young man who saved Olympus. And his faithful sidekick, Annabeth Chase. Although, if the rumors are corrected, you are missing one more. The Cursed One who killed the Titan lord. Where is she?"
Kill Kronos? She did kill Kronos, but Percy wants to know who spread that rumor, mostly because Ana's done nothing but deny it since.
"I'm nobody's sidekick," Annabeth growled. "The Cursed One is not around anymore. And, Percy, his accent sounds familiar because he sounds like his mother. We killed her in New Jersey."
Percy frowned. "I'm pretty sure that accent isn't New Jersey. Who's his—? Oh."
It all fell into place. Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium—the lair of Medusa. She'd talked with that same accent, at least until Percy had cut off her head.
