YEAH, YOU READ THAT RIGHT. Note to demigods: don't go shopping on quests. A lot of monsters use those things as covers. 

But I'm getting a head of myself. We didn't even have a way to Los Angeles yet. I was standing there in a daze, trying to write my will, when Annabeth somehow got an idea for that. She hailed a taxi and loaded us into the back as if we already had money. 

"Los Angeles, please," she said. 

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized us up. I guess we didn't pass his money check, because he said, "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."

"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth said. 

He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."

Annabeth handed him her green LotusCash card. The man looked at it skeptically. I crossed my fingers that that actually worked, and it wasn't somehow magically tied to the casino. That sounded like something evil mind control people would do. Just to make you regret leaving. 

With her prompting, the man swiped the card. The meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. It tore through numbers so fast it was a blur, before settling on an infinity symbol. 

The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He turned to us, his eyes about to pop out of his head. "Where to in Los Angeles...uh, Your Highness?"

Oh boy. That wasn't going to do good for Annabeth's ego. She was already starting to preen herself. 

"The Santa Monica Pier," she said, like she very please with being called 'Your Highness.' I would definitely tease her about that later. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change." 

That sounded cool...for about five seconds. The guy took full advantage of Annabeth saying get us there fast and not get us there alive, and promptly tore through the Mojave Desert. I don't think the speedometer ever went below ninety-five. 

♆

DESPITE DRIVING AT TOP SPEEDS, WE STILL HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO TALK. Between the mist and his determination to get his tip, I'm pretty sure we could have started plotting actual crimes and the driver wouldn't notice. 

Percy and I took the chance to explain our latest dream to our friends. About the servant and their plan for revenge.  About how they'd thought I would be "sympathetic to their cause" (Percy scoffed so hard the driver asked if he was okay, which I'm still proud of) and seeing ourselves crowned by the dead. About – most importantly – the servant calling the voice in the pit something other than "my lord." A special name, or title. 

"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested, because we couldn't remember it off the bat. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe..." Percy frowned. 

None of those sounded quite right. I scrunched my face, trying to dig the answer out of the place the Lotus Casino had buried it in. 

Suddenly, I remembered. "The Crooked One!" 

"What's that?" The driver asked.

"Nothing." I pointed out the window, like we could see anything other than blur. "Funny bird."

He seemed to accept that. Or maybe he couldn't be distracted too long without getting us killed. Annabeth's eyes widened, however, and she looked deeply concerned by what I had said. I was starting to recognize her "not good" face. It was making me even more nervous than I already was. 

"That's not a nickname for Hades, is it?" I guess. Annabeth nodded. "Is it a nickname for anyone?" 

"There is..." Annabeth trailed off.  Grover's face paled. She shook her head. "It has to be Hades. You must have misheard."

I deflated. I was certain that's what it was, but...it wouldn't be the certain when I was wrong. I mumbled an apology, feeling like a total idiot. 

"I can't remember, either," Percy said quickly. He was trying to make me feel better, so managed an appreciative smile. 

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said, in the tone he always used when he was trying to skip past an awkward conversation. "That's the way it's usually described."

Percy shook his head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice in the pit...I don't know. I don't know what Attie thinks, but it...it didn't feel like a god's voice."

Annabeth looked even more concerned. I really wasn't liking this. 

"What?" Percy asked. 

"Oh...nothing." It clearly wasn't nothing. Annabeth was shaking. "I was just – no. Like I said, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this their, this invisible person, to get the mast bolt, and something went wrong –"

"Like what?" 

"Maybe the gods did catch up with him?" I suggested. I felt bad interrupting Annabeth, but I was also desperate to say something right. "Or almost did. So he was forced to hide it to throw them off his trail, and maybe he lost it after wards."

Annabeth seemed to approve of that. "Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

I nodded. It didn't sound quite right, but I really wanted Annabeth to be correct. It felt so...simple. It didn't involve bringing some new villain into it. 

"But if we'd already retrieved the bolt," Percy said, "why would we be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

"Wait, we could do that?" I asked. 

Percy elbowed me. Then he whistled and, to Grover, said, "You have evil thoughts for a goat."

"Why, thank you." Grover batted his eyes. 

"But the thing in the put said it was waiting for two items," Percy said. I blinked. If the title had been erased from his memory, that fact had been erased from mine. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other one?"

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. I almost said that PB might know – after all, she had said it was about more than the lightening bolt – but I knew it was pointless. What were we supposed to do, mail her a letter? Waste daylight hunting down another car wash? 

Annabeth was staring hard at Percy, like she was trying to will him into doing something. Or not doing something. 

"You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you?" Percy asked her. "I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "You recognized the title."

"I...let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades..." Annabeth grimaced. "No. It has to be Hades." 

We passed a sign that said CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES. My stomach dropped. Maybe I was just growing nervous because we were about the enter the land of the dead – enough to make anyone nervous, I think – but something felt wrong. The way you can stare at a puzzle without an edge piece and technically tell what it is, but it still isn't the full picture. 

Except this was a really, really important edge piece. If we were wrong, we didn't exactly have time to fix it. 

"The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth assured us. "You saw spirits of the dead. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

To make us feel better, she tried suggesting some clever strategies for getting into the Underworld. I nodded along and pretended that it wasn't making me feeling worse. We couldn't plan for something we didn't know, and that was making me nervous. 

We arrived at Santa Monica at sunset. I was relieved. The entire time I had been tense, expecting yet another monster. It would be awful if we got the poor driver into danger, especially all the way out here. If his car was destroyed, it would be a long walk to L.A, and then even longer trip back home. 

The beach looked like it did in the movies – with carnival rides on the Pier, palm trees along the sidewalks, and surfers waiting for a wave – but it wasn't as impressive. It smelt like something decomposing, and the sand dunes were dotted with homeless people who had probably come out here to avoid the cops harassing them. 

We walked down to the edge of the surf. 

"What now?" Annabeth asked. 

I stared out on the Pacific. The sun set turned the water to liquid gold. Homesickness washed over me. Maybe the beach was different, but the water looked the same as Montauk. It called to me all the same. 

It called to me. I turned to Percy. He nodded. We had to meet our father in the sea. 

Or, you know, one of his water messengers. I tried not to be annoyed about that. 

Instead, I stepped into the surf. Ignoring Annabeth telling us what a terrible idea that was, I kept walking. The water reached my waist, and then my chest. Despite knowing nothing would happen, I grabbed the arm of the glasses to hold them in place and squeezed my eyes shut as my head went under. 

It was only when I was safely under the water that I opened my eyes. Percy stood next to me. It was funny. Like before, we weren't wet, but for all other purposes it looked like we were under water. I could see his hair floating in waves, and strands of hair brushed against my cheeks as if it was doing the same. The bag of ammo on my belt lifted slightly, just light enough to be moved. 

It was hard to intentionally inhale water, but I forced myself to do it. Better to get done with instead of almost suffocating myself. 

We walked down the shoals. It was so murky I should have been blind, but somehow I could tell where everything was. From the rolling texture of the bottom, to the small fish that darted around us, to Percy about an arms length away from me. I could even see the currents. 

It was crazy. I wanted to sit down here forever. 

A mako shark brush against Percy's leg. He almost screamed, but it wasn't attacking. Instead it was nuzzling him like a dog. I was going to try to pet it – I think most kids would have taken that chance – when another one appeared out of the gloom and approached me. 

"Hello?" I said. If I could talk to zebras, I definitely should be able to speak to sharks. 

Hello, my lady, the shark said. I resisted the urge to squeal. I was talking! To a shark! We've come to take you to your father. 

With that, they brushed their dorsal fin against my palm. Taking the hint, I grabbed it with both hands. Percy did the same with his shark. They look off, bringing us with them. 

I was careful not to run my hand against the direction of shark's skin, instead only going with it. I remembered something about how it could cut you, and I could definitely feel the small sharp edges. We went further down, into the darkness. We were soon deposited on the edge of the ocean proper, where the sand bank dropped ff into a huge chasm. 

Looking down, it made my head spin. On one hand it felt so much like standing on the edge of a cliff that it was triggering my fear of heights. On the other...well, I knew I was in the ocean. And somehow I knew I could jump off and float to the bottom and nothing would happen. 

Suddenly, I really, really wanted to. People talked all the time about what was hidden down in the depths of the ocean. All the things that might be discovered if we could just reach there. The idea of going down there, knowing nothing would happen and the animals wouldn't attack me, it was an incising one. Maybe I could just live among the glow fish in the dark, away from the gods and monsters and Viola Summerfield. 

While I was staring, I noticed something approaching us. It glittered in the darkness, growing bigger and brighter as it approached. A woman's voice – the one I had heard in the Mississippi River – called "Percy and Attie Jackson."

As she got closer, she became clearer. Clearer than the last time we saw her, much clearer. She had flowing black hair and a dress made of green silk. Light flickered around her. She was wearing a stallion-sized sea horse, which I was thrilled by and Percy somehow missed (Oooo, I'm Percy Jackson and I miss super cool sea creatures because I'm too busy staring into the ocean lady's eyes like giant dork. This is why you don't have a girlfriend.) 

The woman dismounted. The sea horse and mako sharks whisked off and started playing something that looked like tag. That sounds weird, but trust me. It was actually super cute, like watching puppies play together. 

The underwater lady smiled at us. "You've come far, children. Well done."

I wasn't sure what to do. Percy bowed, so I nervously did the same. Better to not being the disrespectful one. 

"You're the woman who spoke to us in the Mississippi River," Percy said. 

"Yes, child. I am a Nereid, a spirt of the sea. It is not easy to appear so far up upriver, but the naiads, my freshwater cousins, helped sustain my life force. They honor Lord Poseidon, thought they do not serve in his court."

"Did it hurt?" I asked. I didn't know the lady, but I would have hated if she'd hurt herself just to talk with us. 

The Nereid gave me a sympathetic look. "No, child, though it took a great deal of effort." 

"And...you serve in Poseidon's court?" Percy asked. 

She nodded. "It has been many years since a child of the Sea God has been born. Many more since there were two. We have watched you with great interest."

I remembered the times I had thought I'd seen women in the water, which like most of my weird events I had dismissed as being imagined. I blushed and, despite myself, found I hoped they were impressed. Or at least not embarrassed. 

"If our father is so interested in us," Percy said. "why isn't he here? Why doesn't he speak to us?"

A cold current rose out of the depths. 

"Do not judge the Lord of the Sea too harshly," the Nereid told us. "He stands at the brink of an unwanted war. He has much to occupy his time. Besides, he is forbidden to help you directly. The gods may not show such favoritism."

"Favoritism?" I asked. "We're his only kids –"

"Favoritism among all mortals," the Nereid corrected. "And Lord Poseidon has many non-mortal children. When it comes to you, however, the gods can work by indirect influence only. That is why I give you a warning, and a gift."

She held out her hand. Four white pearls flashed in her palm. Slowly, I reached out to take them. 

"I know you journey to Hades's realm," she said. "Few mortals have ever done this and survived: Orpheus, who had great music skill; Hercules who had great strength; Houdini, who could escape even the depths of Tartarus." 

"So, you're saying...we're not cool enough to survive?" I didn't like the sound of that. 

"No, no, you may not possess those skills but you have something else. You have gifts that you have only begun to know. The oracles have foretold and great and terrible future for you two, should you survive to adulthood. Poseidon would not have you die before your time. 

"Before we're useful again, you mean," I said dryly. 

The Nereid gave me a pitying look, like she could see something terrible about me. It made my skin crawl. 

Finally, she said, "When you are in need, smash a pearl at your feet." 

"What will happen?" Percy asked. 

"That," she said, "depends on the need. But remember: what belongs to the sea will always return to the sea."

"What about the warning?"

Her eyes flickered with green light. "Go with what you great tells you, or you will lose all. Hades feeds on doubt and hopelessness. He will trick you if he can, make you mistrust your own judgement. Once you are in his realm, he will never willing let you leave. Keep faith. Good luck, children." 

She summoned her sea horse. I looked down at the pearls, expecting her to leave. Instead, she said, "And Attie Jackson?"

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered bitterly. I thought I already knew what she was going to say. "Don't judge Dad, keep faith or whatever –"

She gave me that pitying look again. "You are greater than you know, child. Your father has realized that. You must realize it, too, or you will be lost." 

I nodded. I didn't believe her, but I also didn't want a feel good lecture. She turned and road towards the void. 

"Wait!" Percy called. "At the river, you said not to trust gifts. What gifts?"

"Good-bye, young heres," she called back, her voice fading into the depths. "You must listen to your heart." She became a speck of glowing green, and then she was gone. 

I tried listening to my heart. 

We're totally doomed, it said. 

Okay...What if I listened to my heart later? 

I stuck the pearls in my pocket, where they became dry and sat there as if I was standing on land. I turned and kicked towards the shore. 

As soon as we stepped onto the beach, our clothes dried. Percy told Grover and Annabeth what happened. I showed them the pearls. 

Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

"We're already saving his butt," I said. "Isn't that price enough?"

"No." She shook her head. "'There's no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an Ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."

Fantastic. With that wonderful thought, we turned our back on the sea. 

♆

WE TOOK THE BUS INTO WEST HOLLYWOOD. Percy showed him the Underworld address slip he'd taken from Aunty Em's, but he'd never hear of DOA Recording Studios. Probably some mist thing. 

He looked between the two of us. "You remind me of some people I saw on TV. You guys child actors or something?"

"Uh..." Percy shuffled nervously. "We're stunt doubles...for a lot of child actors."

I nodded. "Yeah. Really good at...stunts." 

We are so good at lying. Still, the guy seemed to believe us. We thanked him and got off at the next stop, deciding it might be safer to search on foot. The last thing we wanted was to be stuck on a bus with someone who might turn us in. 

Our search for DOA went terrible. Nobody seemed to know where it was. Most thought it didn't even exist. It didn't appear in the phone book, because apparently Hades didn't want mortal prank calls (it's fair, but I'm still mad.) Not helping was the fact we kept having to duck into alley ways to avoid cop cars. 

We passed a display television that was playing an interview with, of all people, Smelly Gabe. I stared in disbelieve. He was talking to Barbara Walters like he was some kind of celebrity instead of a jerk whose step-kids just happened to go missing. They were sitting in our apartment, in the middle of poker game. 

A young blond lady was sitting next to him, patting his hand. Just the sight of her gave me a pang of pity – she had no idea what she was getting into, did she? 

A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepchildren took everything I care about. My wife...my Camaro...I-I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it." 

Well. At least it wasn't all lies – Gabe would definitely cry over his Camaro. 

"There you have it, America," Barbara Walters turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. Two adolescents with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last know photo of these trouble young fugitives, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a graining shot of us, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares. 

Who are the other children in this photo?" Barbara Walters asked dramatically. I found myself suddenly glad they hadn't recognized them. I mean, they wouldn't know Grover. But if Annabeth's dad and stepmom thought she was a freak, this certainly wouldn't help. "Who is the man with them? Are Percy and Attie Jackson delinquents, terrorists, or perhaps the brainwashed victims of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologists. Stay tuned, America."

Well. A+ for creativity, I guess. 

I felt sick. More than that, I was angry. I had tried so hard to do the right thing. To just be good and fit in, like everyone told me to. Yet none of that mattered. I was still a delinquent. A terrorist! And I probably would be...forever...

"C'mon," Grover said. 

He grabbed Percy's arm as we left, because it didn't take satyr senses to tell he was seconds from punching a whole in the window. 

It got dark, and I was starting to get scared. The crowd dissipated, but the streets didn't empty as they were replaced with hungrier looking characters. People who might happily steal from kids. It didn't help that, unlike New York, this place seemed like a winding maze. Instead of a straight forwards system that made sense, there was just a chaotic mess. 

I couldn't even find a bathroom, let alone DOA Recording Studios. 

Someone called to us as we hurried past the entrance of an alley. Percy – ever the genius – stopped. 

Seconds later, we were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled us. Six of them in all. Once I got a good look at them, however, I was significantly less intimidated. They dressed in expensive clothes, they looked like the kids from Yancy Academy. Bullies. Probably just out here because they thought harassing homeless people and beating up the stray smaller kids was funny. 

The only threat was their numbers. I wondered if I could just kick the biggest guy where it hurt and they'd scatter. Probably not worth trying, though. 

Percy uncapped Riptide. 

The kids backed off. I wondered what they were seeing. Were they wondering wear Percy had pulled a sword from? Or had it be changed to an equally scary, but mentally acceptable, weapon. Either way, their leader wasn't put off. He kept coming with a switch blade.

Percy swung. My heart dropped, because for a moment I thought he was about the gut the kid. 

Except nothing happened. The kid yelped, clearly seeing that he'd been attacked, but he was mortal and so the blade just passed harmlessly through him. For a moment I was relieved. We hadn't just murdered a kid.

Then I remembered that meant we had no weapons. All off them were made for monsters.

Before the shock could run out, I went with my plan and landed a kick on the kid. The guy's buddies gave sympathetic groans and grimaces as he collapsed. 

"Run!" Percy screamed. 

We shoved through the crowd of kids and raced down the street. We didn't know where we were going, entirely focused on getting as far away as possible. Annabeth cried out when she spotted something. 

She was pointing to a store down the block. Its windows glared with neon lights, and it appeared to be open. I didn't even bother to try to read it. 

"Crusty's Water Bed Palace?" Grover translated. 

It worked. We burst through the door, ran behind a water bed, and ducked. I held my breath until, a split second later, the gang kids ran past outside. 

"I think we lost them," Grover said. 

A voice behind us boomed, "Lost who?" 

We all jumped. 

A guy stood behind us. He was about as tall as all of us stacked on top of each other, and totally bald. His skin as gray and leathery, and a cold, reptilian smile. He approached us slowly, but in the same way a predator was slow when it stalked its prey, ready to give a burst of speed if needed. 

He was dressed weirdly, too, like he hadn't moved past the seventies. His shirt was a silk paisley, unbuttoned half down his chest. The panels on his velvet jacket were wide and short, and he had about a hundred chains around his beck. 

"I'm Crusty," he said. 

You don't say, I thought, but that seemed mean. 

"Sorry to barge in," Percy said. "We were just, um, browsing."

"Bed," I said. "We love beds."

The guy didn't look convinced. He grumbled, "You mean hiding from those no-good kids."

I cleared my throat. "Well...If you're saying it..." 

"They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

I shook my head, but he didn't seemed to notice. He put a massive hand on Percy's shoulder and steered him deeper into the showroom. I shared a look with Grover and Annabeth. We hurried after the two. 

Water Bed Palace hadn't been exaggeration. If you could imagine a water bed, they had it. Different woods, sheet patterns, and sizes from small single to California King to beyond. 

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, looking like oil-flavored Jell-O. 

I will admit, it looked cooler than it did comfortable. What can I say? Satin feels weird, and I would feel constantly stressed about breaking the Lava Lamps. 

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway." 

That was...suspicious. I resisted the urge to start sniffing. I didn't have Grover's monster-nose, and Crusty would probably just think I was insulting his hygiene.

Speaking of Grover. He was totally oblivious. 

"Million-hand massage!" he cried, diving into the bed. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his chin. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" Percy asked. 

Crusty ignored. He turned to Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Annabeth said, "But what –" 

He pattered her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Delux model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned comforter. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her. 

"Hey!" she protested. 

My hand shot to the slingshot on my belt. Maybe I couldn't use the pellets, but I could maybe wack him with the sling. "What's your problem?"

Crusty just snapped his fingers. "Ergo!" 

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed. They lashed themselves around Annabeth, holding her to the bed. Grover tried to get up, but the same happened to him. 

"N-not c-c-cool!" He yelled, his voice vibrating from message. "N-not c-cool a-at all!"

The giant looked down at Annabeth, then turned towards us and grinned. "Almost, darn it."

We tried to step back. Before we could, Crusty's hands shot out. He grabbed Percy by the back of the neck and, when I tried to get out of reach, caught me by the upper arm. I tried to twist out of his grasp, his grip tightened until it hurt. 

"Woah, kids. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

"I don't want your stupid bed!" I snapped. "Let my friends go."

"Oh, sure I will," he said. "But I got to make them fit, first."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked. 

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

"Fit?" I protested. "We're twelve! What six-foot twe–" 

I squawked as Crusty tightened his grip again. I was glad my t-shirt sleeve was under his hand, because I think it was the only thing that kept his nails from cutting into my skin. 

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," he muttered. "Ergo!" 

A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds. They wrapped around their ankles, then under their armpits, like some kind of medieval torture device (I've been told that it actually is a medieval torture device. A realization that does not make me feel any better.) The ropes started tightening, pulling them from both ends. 

"Don't worry," Crusty told us. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

"I'd rather die!" I declared. Which, given the current events, Crusty probably would have taken me up on. 

Percy seemed to actually be thinking. He asked, "Your real name's not Crusty, is it?"

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted. 

"The Stretcher." 

"Yeah," the monster said. "But who can pronounce Procrustes? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

I glared at him. "I don't –" 

Percy cut me off by stomping on my foot. He gave me a pleading look. I had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted me to play along. Reluctantly, I relented. I had to trust him. Otherwise we would never get out of here. 

"I get it," I said, doing my best to sound sympathetic. "My names Atalanta, but I go by Attie 'cause everyone keeps thinking it's Atlanta." 

"Exactly! You understand!" Crusty's eyes lit up, like we'd just had some grand bonding moment. 

My face burned in frustration, and I really hoped it wasn't turning red. That sounded counterproductive to playing nice. 

"Crusty does have a good ring to it," Percy said. 

"You think so?" Crusty sounded genuinely flattered. 

"Oh, absolutely. And the workmanship on the best? Fabulous!"

He grinned hugely, but still didn't let go of us. "I tell my customers that. Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

Little hard to enjoy the headboards when you're killing my friends, I thought. Thankfully, it remained inside my head. 

"Not too many," Percy said. 

"That's right!" Crusty cried. 

"Percy! Attie!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?" 

I turned just far enough to give her a sympathetic look. Honestly, I didn't know what we were doing either. 

"Don't mind her," Percy told Procrustes. "She's impossible." 

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting." 

"What if they're longer than six feet?" I ask through gritted teeth. It kept me from running over to try to free my friends. 

"Oh, that happens all the time," Crusty said dismissively. "It's a simple fix."

Crusty let go. I started to run, but before I could, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-blades brass axe. I inhaled sharply. Suddenly, the stretching didn't seem so bad.  

"I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over either end," he explained. 

"Ah," Percy said. He suddenly sounded tense. "Sensible."

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!" 

The ropes were only getting worse. Annabeth was getting pale. Grover made a gurgling sound, like a strangled goose. I was starting to choke up. Suddenly, I was terrified that whatever Percy was planning was taking too long, and we were going to watch our friends die in front of us. 

"So, Crusty..." Percy said. His voice was light, but I knew him well enough to hear the fear underneath. He glanced at a valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?" 

"Absolutely," Crusty said. "Try it out."

Not in a billion years. 

"Yeah," Percy said. "Maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

"Show me."

Percy shot me a look. He didn't say anything, but suddenly everything clicked into place. I took a deep breath and tried to steady myself.

"Yeah," I said. Keeping my voice from wavering gave a bit of a flat effect, but it was better than appearing scared. "After all, we'll be almost as tall as you after the stretching. We need to know it will still work."

Crusty didn't suspect anything. He sat down eagerly on the bed and patted the mattress. "No waves. See?"

Percy snapped his fingers. "Ergo."

For a second I was afraid the bed might recognize their master. They didn't. Ropes lashed around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress. He cried out as Percy and I came to stand over him. 

"Center him just right," Percy said. 

The ropes readjusted themselves at his command. Crusty's whole head stuck out the top. His feet hung off the bottom. 

"Seriously?" I wondered aloud. "This feels a bit hypocritical, dude." 

"No!" Crusty cried. "Wait! This is just a demo."

Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments."

And, uh...I think you get the rest. I will admit, I was a little unnerved listening to Crusty's pleading, and not because he thought discounts would make up for him torturing our friends. He a monster, I thought, he'll just reform. But he looked like a human being, if a seven foot one with a weird skin condition. 

While Percy was busy with...that...I hurried to free Annabeth and Grover. Taking Annabeth's dagger from its sheath (and thanking the god she was still wearing it as I did), I cut her free. Then I ran to do the same with Grover. 

The two got to their feet, wincing and cursing us under their breaths. I wasn't too offended. We deserved it. 

"You look taller," Percy said. 

"Very funny," Annabeth said. She snatched the dagger from my hands. "Be faster next time."

There was a bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. It was covered in various mythological services. One for Hermes Delivery Service (I was a little peeved that the gods were delivering to this guy) and another for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters ("The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!") Only one really mattered to me: a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios. 

It was offering commissions for heroes' souls – morbid – but more importantly, it had the address right underneath with a map. 

it was only a block from here. 

Author's Note: You know, I originally thought Attie's fatal flaw was her fear of responsibility. And I definitely think that's something big, which will come out more when the prophecy is revealed. But I will admit, this chapter definitely put her insecurity as a solid contender. 

She doesn't believe in her own ability and is used to being looked down upon, so it's hard for her to conceive of the idea that Poseidon actually cares about her to any extent. Which would make her really easy to manipulate if...oh, I don't know...the big bad's whole thing was playing on demigods feeling that their godly parents only see them as tools.