Traffic thinned as we passed through the New York City suburbs and out into what could only be called countryside. By the time we hit Montauk Highway there was nothing to be seen but trees and fields.

"This end of the island is mostly nature preserve and farms –" Callie was saying when Mark interrupted her:

"Incoming!" and something big hit the driver's side knocking us out of our lane and onto the verge.

Callie stepped on the gas and we went rattling along bouncing and jouncing - Porsches aren't what you'd call off-road vehicles. Mark cranked down his window and pulled a huge old fashioned revolver from under his coat. Terry gasped and pulled me closer to him and farther from the guy with the gun as Mark aimed it at something running alongside the car- something huge and tawny with wings, a long tail and a woman's head?

He fired and the sphinx – it couldn't have been a sphinx! – vanished in a cloud of dust. "Keep going, maybe we can out run them!" Then something blasted into the windshield starring it like a supernova and eliminating visibility.

"Styx!" said Callie. "I'm pulling over.

"Guess Poly hasn't worked all the bugs out of his Celestial bronze glass," Mark said calmly as Callie hit the brakes throwing us all forward. "Stay in the car you two," he added, kicked the door open and was out in a flash with Callie sliding across the passenger seat right behind him.

Mark reached into his coat and pulled out a sword – yes a sword – long and curved and wickedly sharp and best of all it was glowing. He dropped the coat and struck an ass-kicking pose, sword arched over his head and left arm held in front of him. His sweatshirt morphed into some kind of dark body-armor and a big, shiny shield formed on his arm. All I could think of was that game Dad had worked on when we were little - Highlander - we'd been kidnapped by Immortals?

Next to him Callie dropped her own coat, reached up and pulled the two long pins out of her hair. It came down and the pins grew into a matched pair of daggers with thin needle sharp blades and long curly guards. Her tunic changed too, lengthening to her ankles and going all shimmery and diaphanous as she struck a pose of her own.

Then I saw the guys they were squaring off against. They wore gold toned Greek armor over camo pants and jackets with big, brightly colored horsehair crests topping shiny helmets, round shields painted with crazy designs on their left arms and spears or swords in their hands. They stood in a square in the middle of the highway, two rows facing Mark and Callie the other two Poly and Woody.

The hummer was on its roof on the opposite side of the road with two big things lying in a crumpled heap nearby and Poppy and the boys standing round eyed in front of it. Poly and Woody had placed themselves between the Greek guys (and I'm not talking Frat boys here!) and our siblings. Poly was wearing armor like Mark and had a brown and gold shield on one arm with what looked like a huge, evil hammer in his hand. Woody was swinging a big gnarled club in one hand and somehow managing to look seriously badass in spite of his stringy build and stupid goatee.

"Yield!" a Greek guy shouted, "you are outnumbered."

"What, five to one?" Poly said scornfully from his side of the road.

"Not enough," Mark agreed and the line immediately in front of him seemed to cringe away.

At that moment Terry and I were distracted big time. Callie had pulled right up against a tree blocking the driver side door – probably on purpose – but now the tree was shuddering and shaking like something was trying to pull it up by the roots, as it turned out something was. The tree vanished, showering the car with clumps of dirt, and a huge, bloodshot eye glared at us through the window then the door was literally yanked off its hinges and a huge fist reached inside. Terry kicked at it as I struggled to reach the door handle blocked by the front passenger seat. The hand caught one of Terry's legs and dragged him out of the car.

I tumbled after to see my brother hoisted up, up, up by a twenty or thirty foot giant with one big eye in the middle of his forehead. Thanks to my classical education I immediately identified it as a Cyclops and screamed like Fay Wray – hey what else could I do! Terry kicked his free leg and did mid-air sit-ups to pound the big hand with his fists. He was also cursing a blue streak in Ancient Greek – a surprisingly appropriate choice of language in the circumstances. Then, for no apparent reason, the big glaring eye closed and the giant slumped to the ground his hold on Terry loosed and my brother rolled free. I ran to see if he was all right.

Terry sat up, rubbing the back of his head. "What the –" and was interrupted by a loud snore from the crumpled heap of giant.

"It's asleep," I said brilliantly.

"Okay, that's weird."

'Like what isn't?' I was about to say when the clanging noise in the background suddenly registered on us both.

We rushed around the remains of Callie's Porsche – Terry round the front and me round the back – and right into the Battle of Thermopylae II. Mark had been right about five to one odds not being good enough; he, Callie, Poly and Woody were still up and swinging, which was more than could be said for six of the Greek guys, but all four were ringed in and isolated from each other while their opponents darted in and out of range getting some rest while their comrades kept our escorts busy. It was immediately clear this was not a tenable situation for our side.

Then three Greeks spotted me and headed in my direction. I walked steadily towards them and kicked the lead guy's helmet right off his head. It went sailing and he went down. Yeah – I can do that. Ballet teaches you how to kick high and (very) hard and the pointy toed Prada boots I was wearing didn't hurt either, or rather they did. I downed two more with kicks to the head, sliced the legs out from under the first guy who'd recovered enough to come back for more then – temporarily clear – took a running leap at a guy with a shield, dropped him, grabbed his shield and started wacking around with it. I caught a glimpse of Poppy punching a helmetless guy so hard teeth flew; of Terry using a spear like a Bo and of our two youngest brothers double teaming, Sandy hitting 'em high and Murphy low. And I saw Mark, Poly and Callie in action:

To say they were scary was a huge understatement. Mark was wearing this psycho-killer grin, even spookier than Poppy's, and I could swear his eyes were glowing red – just like his sword as it cut through armor like butter. Poly's hammer shattered shields and helmets and breastplates and probably skulls and ribs too. As for Callie - she was a vision in her shimmery golden gown, golden hair flying around her face like her own personal sunburst, her double daggers twinkling – and deadly. I saw a Greek take a slice at her leg and the blade rebounded from the flimsy folds of her dress like it'd hit Bessemer steel. The guy was knocked flat by the rebound but Callie barely staggered. That was weird enough but then I saw Woody bashing the last Greek left on his feet over the head with his club.

Our chaperone had lost the dumb wool cap he'd been wearing and two dark bumps, like horns, were visible atop his head. And he'd lost his shoes and what I saw at the end of his legs was not feet! A sphinx, a Cyclops and now a satyr, I looked around at the prostrate bodies and bits of armor littering the ground. Had Long Island somehow been transformed into Mythomagic's ancient Greece when I wasn't looking?

"Everybody into the Hummer!" Poly ordered.

"Uh, Poly, it's upside down," Poppy reminded him. She had a bronze sword in one hand and an axe in the other, I was pretty sure I saw blood on the latter.

"Not a problem," he took out his keys and pressed a button on his clicker. The inverted Hummers' headlights flashed red then it tumbled back onto its treads and rolled right up to Poly like a very big dog coming to heel.

"Seriously Cool!" Sandy beamed.

All four doors popped open and I rather reluctantly followed Callie inside, wondering how we were all going to fit. It turned out not to be a problem; there were five passenger seats, three looking front two back, as well as a couple of jump seats in the luggage compartment.

Poppy was shocked. "Whoa! It didn't look like this before."

"I reconfigured," Poly said casually from the driver's seat.

"Super cool!" Sandy's enthusiasm was getting out of control. "Just like transformers."

Mark stretched out his long legs, he's over six feet but there was more than enough room for them like the Hummer was bigger on the inside than on the outside. Oh great, Doctor Who on top of Mythomagic and Transformers, what was this some kind of weird crossover?

He and Callie had the back looking seats, Terry, Poppy and me were facing them and our little brothers were sitting with the luggage. Woody was up front next to Poly who hauled hard left on the wheel sending us over the highway and into the woods. The Hummer's tractor-like treads and seriously springy suspension made the ride unexpectedly smooth.

Mark's eyes still gleamed red but his grin wasn't scary anymore, "You kids were amazing!" he told us. "Woody, we have got to keep this bunch out of Kronos' hands."

"I agree," the satyr said, a little grimly.

"Kronos," Terry echoed, "like the father of the gods, King of the Titans, that Kronos?"

"The same," Mark nodded. "He's trying to make a comeback and it's up to us to prevent it."

"Us being -?" Terry prompted.

"Half-Bloods," Mark answered. "Or demigods if you prefer, those of us who haven't gone over to the wrong side."

"You mean those guys," I said, pointing back towards our highway battlefield.

"Yes," Mark looked grim.

Callie took up the explanation. "We're in the middle of a war, we need recruits –"

"No way!" said Terry

"Way!" Poppy contradicted.

"I don't think so," I told her.

"Aw guys –!" Sandy began.

"Shut up, kid, this is for real," Murphy finished for him.

"Exactly," said Terry, and glared at Poppy, "You want Murphy and Sandy killing people?"

"Uh," she looked embarrassed.

Mark leaned forward. "I can respect how you feel, Terry. I'm not crazy about my kid brothers and sisters fighting a war either but we got no choice."

"We have to save Olympus," Callie added. "Everything depends on it. Our parents need us."

"Parents?"

"The gods," she said simply.

We goggled at her.

Mark shrugged, leaning back. "I told you we were demigods didn't I? I'm a son of Ares, Callie here is a daughter of Aphrodite and the mad gadgeteer," he nodded back towards Poly behind him, "is a son of Hephaestus."

"And Woody?" I asked.

"I'm a satyr," he said, "a protector. It's my job to seek out half-bloods and see them safe to camp."

"Wait a minute," it was Poppy's turn to lean forward. "There's really a camp?"

"Camp Half-Blood," Mark, Callie and Woody all said in ragged unison. "It's a safe place where young heroes can train," the satyr finished alone.

"It's a real fun spot, you'll love it," Mark promised.

At this point a shoe dropped. "Wait a minute you think we're like you?" I demanded.

That got surprised looks. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't"

Poppy and Terry were both shaking their heads alongside me. "Sorry," my eldest brother said, "but you've made a mistake. We got two parents and neither of them is a god!"

Mark and Callie exchanged looks with Woody. "We don't understand it either," Poly said, keeping his eyes on the lack of road. "Five half-bloods with the same parentage is unprecedented but there's no mistake. You can trust a satyr's nose, it always knows."

"Half-bloods have a distinctive scent," Woody explained around the headrest of his bucket seat. "Satyrs can detect it, and so can monsters."

"Monsters!" we echoed, stunned.

"Like the sphinx and Cyclopes back there," Mark explained. His eyes narrowed. "Don't weird things happen to you, dangerous things you can't explain?"

"Not till now," Terry said grimly.

"They've been kept isolated," Woody told Mark then shook his head, "but five half-bloods together? They'd have to attract trouble – unless they've got a strong protection of some kind."

Mark shrugged. "Chiron will figure it out."

"Chiron? Like the centaur?" I blurted.

"Our activities director," said Mark.

"Okay," I said, "that's it. I want to go home."

"That's just what you can't do," Callie said sympathetically. "Don't you see, Fancy, whatever protection you may have had is gone now. Kronos' minions know who you are. You join us – or them."