Before I could figure out how to apologize for being such an idiot, she tackled me with a hug, then pulled away just as quickly. "I'm glad you're not a guinea pig." "Me, too." I hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt.

Beckendorf, whose legs were now working fine (nothing like being chased by a huge monster to get your body back in order) shook his head and gasped for breath. “You shouldn’t have turned it on! It’s unstable! After a few years, automatons go wild!

Great," Percy said. "Seven of us against Hercules." "And a satyr!" Hedge added. "We can take him.

Son of Poseidon? East asked. I nodded. Took a dip in the Styx? Hudson asked. Yep. They made digusted sounds. Well that's perfect East said. Now how do we kille him?

It is true that I once refused to eat haggis in Scotland and this did not sit well with the local population.

I was wishing I'd bought some of that Camp Half Blood orange thermal underwear..." ?!?!

We are servants of Ma’at—order and justice. We don’t kill our enemies for things they might do in the future.