Marvelous,” she said. “Tell me about this tapestry.” Arachne’s lips curled over her mandibles. “Why do you care? You're about to die.” “Well, yes,” Annabeth said. “But the way you captured the light is amazing. Did you use real gold thread for the sunbeams?

Annabeth came up to me. She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder—ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.

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.

I hadn't seen my dad get violent since the Great Spatula Incident, and I wasn't anxious to see a repeat of that.

Nobody welcomes a war - not if they're smart. But war finds everyone sooner or later. It's inevitable.

It’s hard to look in charge when you’re hunched over like Quasimodo.

Bring it on, Pinecone Face!