We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain.

We weren't attacked once, which was great, but I could tell the others were still restless and nervous. It felt like we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. We tried to keep a low profile, but everywhere we went there were posters dotted every street. Percy's name in the headline with, His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, offering a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told him. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound so sure. The rest of the day I spent lounging on the seats or looking out the windows. Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, but nobody else had noticed. The adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines.

Another time, toward evening, I saw something huge moving through the woods. I could've sworn it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. Its fur glinted gold in the evening light. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone. Our reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver.

I wasn't that tired, luckily, so I decided to keep watch over the others. Grover kept snoring and bleating and waking Percy up. Once, he shuffled around and his fake foot fell off. Annabeth and I had to stick it back on before any of the other passengers noticed.

Eventually, Pery awoke from his slumber, and tiredly looked around.

"So," Annabeth asked him, once we'd gotten Grover's sneaker readjusted. "Who wants your help?"

"What do you mean?" Percy murmured, still dazed.

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?" Percy seemed to think for a moment, but he finally told her. Me and Annabeth was quiet for a long time. I didn't have the heart to tell her I had a very similar dream to his.

"That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs." She frowned, thinking.

"He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?" Percy added.

"I guess . . . if he meant, 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?" Percy and Annabeth seemed to be just as confused as I was.

"Percy, you can't barter with Hades. You know that, right?" I mentioned. "From what I've heard, he's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. And there's no way you can stand up to a god." Annabeth nodded.

"Y/N is right. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—" Annabeth stopped herself.

"This time?" Percy asked. "You mean you've run into them before?" Her hand crept up to her necklace. She fingered a glazed white bead painted with the image of a pine tree, one of her clay end-of-summer tokens.

"Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom." She muttered.

"What would you do if it was your dad?" I asked.

"That's easy," she said. "I'd leave him to rot."

"You're not serious?" Annabeth's gray eyes fixed on me. She wore the same expression she'd worn in the woods at camp, the moment she drew her sword against the hellhound.

"My dad's resented me since the day I was born, Y/N," she said. "He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work. She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes had to be raised by their mortal parent."

"But how . . . I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital. . . ." I was really confused.

"I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd take some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened to him." She fiddeld with her hands nervously, perhaps a little afraid she would cry.

"When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend I didn't exist." I stared out the train window. The lights of a sleeping town were drifting by. I wanted to make Annabeth feel better.

"My mom married a really awful guy," Percy said. "Grover said she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking." Annabeth kept worrying at her necklace. She was pinching the gold college ring that hung with the beads. It occurred to me that the ring must be her father's. I wondered why she wore it if she hated him so much.

"He doesn't care about me," she said. "His wife—my stepmom—treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened—you know, something with monsters—they would both look at me resentfully, like, 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away."

"How old were you?" I asked.

"Same age as when I started camp. Seven."

"But . . . you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself." Percy questioned.

"Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of unexpected friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway."

Percy seemed to get a little awkward, so he decided to stretch his legs and walk down the carriage. I turned back to Annabeth. I wanted to ask what happened, but Annabeth seemed lost in sad memories. So, I decided to do the only thing that I knew would make her feel better.

"You want a hug, Wise girl?" I asked, spreading my arms wide. Hey, I'm the son of a Family goddess. I give the BEST hugs.

Annabeth looked at me with a weird look on her face, and the tips of her ears were turning pink. She seemed to think for a moment, before nodding slowly, returning the gesture.

I didn't mean it, but the moment she wrapped her arms around me, she immediately burst into tears. Annabeth's shoulders began to shake, and quiet sobs escaped her. Tears soaked my shoulder as she cried, and I held her tighter, saying nothing, just letting her release the pain and sadness that she had carried for so long.

Amidst her tears, she spoke softly, her voice quivering, "I wish I was never born into this life, Y/N. Why couldn't I just be normal?

Her words pierced my heart, and I tightened my grip, offering what comfort I could. She continued to cry, letting out the pent-up emotions that had haunted her.

Eventually, her tears subsided, and she pulled away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. She looked at me, her expression a mixture of embarrassment and nervousness.

"Sorry," she muttered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Annabeth, there's no need to apologize. We all need to vent sometimes." I smiled warmly, before being pushed to the side. Percy wrapped his arms around me, laughing.

"Not bad, but not as good as my mom's hugs."

Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, which looked to me like a huge shopping bag handle stuck on the city.

"I want to do that," she sighed.

"What?" I asked confused.

"Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Y/N?"

"No." I muttered. For an orphan, my education was QUITE limited.

"Someday, I'm going to see it in person." Annabeth continued. "I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years."

"You? An architect?" Percy chimed in. Her cheeks flushed.

"Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention." I winced slightly. They were not getting along.

"Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean."

"Can't you two work together a little?" I pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?" Annabeth had to think about it.

"I guess . . . the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete."

"Then you can cooperate, too. Right?" We rode into the city, Annabeth watching as the Arch disappeared behind a hotel.

"I suppose," she said at last.

We pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver. Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food."

"Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing."

"Sightseeing?" Grover muttered sleepily.

"The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. You going Y/N?" I nodded. She turned to Grover and Percy, who exchanged looks. Grover shrugged.

"As long as there's a snack bar without monsters.

The Arch was about a mile from the train station. Late in the day the lines to get in weren't that long. We threaded our way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. It wasn't all that thrilling, but Annabeth kept telling us interesting facts about how the Arch was built, and Grover kept passing me and Percy jellybeans, so we were okay. I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line.

"You smell anything?" Percy murmured to Grover. He took his nose out of the jelly-bean bag long enough to sniff.

"Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything." But something felt wrong. It felt awfully cold, like we weren't supposed to be here.

"Guys," Percy said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?" Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?"

"Well, Hade—" Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place. . . . You mean, our friend downstairs?"

"Um, right," Percy said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

"You mean the Helmet of Darkness?" I questioned.

"Helm." Annabeth corrected. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" I asked.

She nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus—the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true. . . ."

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

"But then . . . how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" Percy asked. Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks.

"We don't," Grover said.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy murmured. I held out the bag.

"Jellybean for your troubles?"

Percy seemed to almost master his jumpy nerves when I saw the tiny little elevator car we were going to ride to the top of the Arch, and I knew he was in trouble. We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye Chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it.

"No parents?" the fat lady asked us. She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp.

"They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings." The woman said. The chihuahua growled. "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The woman drawled. The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

"Sonny. Is that his name?" Percy asked.

"No," the lady told him. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up. I began to feel very uneasy. At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but I could tell Percy was on the edge of passing out.

Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. She probably could've stayed up there for hours, but luckily for us the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I steered Grover and Annabeth toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and I was about to get in myself with Percy, when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me.

"Next car, sir." The park ranger said.

"We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you." But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time.

"Nah, it's okay. I'll stay with Percy. See you guys at the bottom." Grover and Annabeth both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp. Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, Percy, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua.

I smiled uneasily at the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth. Wait a minute. Forked tongue? Before I could decide if I'd really seen that, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at me and Percy.

"Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here."

"Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips.

"Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist." Ice started forming in my stomach, which wasn't great for a child of Hestia.

"Um, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?" Percy questioned.

"Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make." She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's. The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralysed, gaping at the monster.

The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA—RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS—IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS—EXT. 954.

I realized I hadn't even tried to form a weapon. My hands were numb. I was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge. The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter.

"Be honoured, Percy Jackson. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. And for YOU, son of Hestia, I cannot wait to rid that vile woman of her only kin. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!" I stared at her, still paralysed with fear.

"Isn't that a kind of anteater?" Percy asked. She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage.

"I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Percy Jackson, my son shall destroy you!" The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. Me and Percy managed to leap aside and dodge the bite. I ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors.

I couldn't let them get hurt. Thinking hard, I tried to come up with a weapon. I needed something bulky, something that had power. As I concentrated, the bracelet grew hot on my wrist, growing longer and heavier. I could tell one end was much larger. As the glow faded, I glanced down at my hands. I saw I was holding a large Bronze double-edged battle-axe.

"Hey, Chihuahua!" Percy screamed, snapping me out of my trance. I whipped my head around, seeing The Chimera roaring at him. Before he could swing riptide, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at him.

Instincts took over as I thrust out my hand, willing the flames to stop. The fire changed trajectory, blowtorching a ragged hole in the side of the Arch. Where I had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges.

Getting to my feet, I charged the Chimera. As it turned, I raised the axe sharply, before slamming it down on its shoulder. That was my fatal mistake. The Axe sunk itself into the Lion, earning a loud roar. But before I could celebrate, it's snake tail reached around, wrenching the axe out of its shoulder, and throwing it out of the arch, down into the Mississippi river. Percy advanced, slamming riptide down to the Chimira's neck, but it sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. He tried to regain his balance, but before either of us could react, the serpent tail whipped around and sank its fangs into his calf. I tried to think of anything, but I was defenceless. Percy tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around his ankles and pulling him off balance, and his blade flew out of Percy's hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River.

I stood up, fear coursing through my veins, and poison coursing through Percy's. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?" The monster growled. "Perhaps that one isn't so bad." She hissed, pointing to me. It seemed in no hurry to finish us off that we were beaten. I glanced at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people.

Even if I could control fire, there was no way to defend myself against a venomous snake. I could tell Percy was dying, he swayed on his feet, attempting to remain standing. But I knew it was hopeless. There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole.

Far, far below, the river glittered, almost beckoning me to jump myself.

"If you are the son of Poseidon," Echidna hissed to him, "you would not fear water. Jump, Percy Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline." I knew there was nothing I could do. My bangle hadn't reappeared on my wrist yet, and I was completely defenceless. Even if Percy somehow made the jump, there was no way I could.

"You have no faith," Echidna hissed. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little coward. Better you die