Where You Go ― Jason Grace

v. ophelia & friends piss off a city full of cow monsters

"WHAT ARE THEY?" Hazel asked.

The Argo II was docked at a busy wharf. On one side stretched a shipping channel about half a kilometer wide. On the other spread the city of Venice—red-tiled roofs, metal church domes, steepled towers, and sun-bleached in all the colors of Valentine candy hearts—red, white, ochre, pink, and orange.

Everywhere there were statues of lions—on top of pedestals, over doorways, on the porticoes of the largest buildings. Ophelia figured they must have been the city's mascot.

Where there should have been streets, green canals etched their way through the neighborhoods, each one jammed with motorboats. Along the docks, the sidewalks were mobbed with tourists shopping at the T-shirt kiosks, overflowing from stores, and lounging across acres of outdoor café tables, like pods of sea lions.

But that wasn't the main attraction—not to the group of teenage demigods, at least.

No, they were more focused on the dozens of weird shaggy monsters milling through the crowds.

Each monster was about the size of a cow, with a bowed back like a broken-down horse, matted gray fur, skinny legs, and black cloven hooves. The creatures' heads seemed much too heavy for their necks. Their long, anteater-like snouts drooped to the ground. Their overgrown gray manes completely covered their eyes.

Ophelia watched one of the creatures lumber across the promenade, snuffling and licking the pavement with its long tongue. The tourists parted around it, unconcerned. A few even pet it. Ophelia wondered what the Mist made them see—then, for a moment, the image flickered, and the creature resembled an old, fat beagle.

Jason grunted. "The mortals think they're stray dogs."

"Or pets roaming around," Piper said. "My dad shot a film in Venice once. I remember him telling me there were dogs everywhere. Venetians love dogs."

"Of course they do," Ophelia muttered in disdain. She'd always been more of a cat person.

"But what are they?" Frank asked, repeating Hazel's question. "They look like... starving, shaggy cows with sheepdog hair."

He waited for someone to enlighten him. Nobody volunteered any information.

"Maybe they're harmless," Leo suggested. "They're ignoring the mortals."

"We should be so lucky," Ophelia grumbled. Gods, she was not a morning person, and the swarm of weird-looking monsters didn't help matters.

Jason wrapped his arm around her, letting her lean against his body as she struggled to wake up fully.

"Harmless!" Coach Hedge laughed. "Valdez, how many harmless monsters have we met? We should just aim the ballistae and see what happens!"

"Uh, no," Leo said.

He was right. There were way too many monsters. It would be impossible to target one without causing collateral damage in the crowds of tourists. Besides, if those creatures panicked and stampeded...

"We'll have to walk through them and hope they're peaceful," Frank said. "It's the only way we're going to track down the owner of that book."

Leo pulled the leather-bound manual from underneath his arm. He'd slapped a sticky note on the cover with the address the dwarfs had given him.

"La Casa Nera," he read. "Calle Frezzeria."

"The Black House," Nico translated. "Calle Frezzeria is the street."

"You speak Italian?" Frank asked.

Nico shot him a warning look, like: Watch the questions. Ophelia had learned quickly the son of Hades was a very private person. He spoke calmly, though. "Frank is right. We have to find that address. The only way to do it is to walk the city. Venice is a maze. We'll have to risk the crowds and those... whatever they are."