What-what do you want?" Annabeth asked, trying to maintain a tone of confidence. The voice cackled maliciously. 'To curse you, of course! To destroy you thousand times in the name of Mother Night!' "Only a thousand times?" Percy murmured. "Oh, good...I thought we were in trouble.

So, great. This is Camp…what do you call it? Camp Fish-Blood?” Aphros frowned. “I hope that was a joke. This is Camp __________.” He made a sound that was a series of sonar pings and hisses.

When in doubt, start from the top. -Jason Grace

And if I was humming "Happy Birthday" and smiling stupidly as I fled for my life—well, that was nobody's business, was it?

Two hundred Romans, and no one’s got a pen? Never mind!" He slung his M16 onto his back and pulled out a hand grenade. There were many screaming Romans. Then the hand grenade morphed into a ballpoint pen, and Mars began to write. Frank looked at Percy with wide eyes. He mouthed: Can your sword do grenade form? Percy mouthed back, No. Shut up.

I tried to talk to Annabeth, but she was acting like I'd just punched her grandmother.

Sometimes you have to lose a piece to win a game.