As they stepped through the door, lights came on. Flute music started up like they'd walked onto a stage. The wide aisles were lined with bins of nuts and dried fruit, baskets of apples, and clothing racks with tie-dyed shirts and gauzy Tinker Bell–type dresses. The ceiling was covered in wind chimes. Along the walls, glass cases displayed crystal balls, geodes, macramé dreamcatchers, and a bunch of other strange stuff. Incense must have been burning somewhere. It smelled like a bouquet of flowers was on fire.

"Fortune-teller's shop?" Frank wondered.

"Hope not," Hazel muttered.

Percy leaned against her. He looked worse than ever, like he'd been hit with a sudden flu. His face glistened with sweat. "Sit down…" he muttered. "Maybe water."

Valen took out a flask of Nectar, and helped him chug some down. "That should make you feel better, until then let's get you someplace to rest."

The floorboards creaked under their feet. A girl suddenly popped up from behind the granola bins. "Help you?"

Frank lurched backward, knocking over a Neptune statue fountain. Valen grabbed it before it could fall and put it back in its place.

"Sorry!" Frank apologized, "We were just-"

"Oh, I know!" the girl said. "You want to browse. It's all right. Demigods are welcome. Take your time. You're not like those awful monsters. They just want to use the restroom and never buy anything!" She snorted. Her eyes flashed with lightning.

Valen narrowed his eyes, "You're a nymph aren't you?"

She beamed, "Oh, I like you! It's rare to find anyone who knows about nymphs."

From the back of the store, a woman's voice called: "Fleecy? Don't scare the customers, now. Bring them here, will you?"

"Your name is Fleecy?" Hazel asked.

Fleecy giggled. "Well, in the language of the nebulae it's actually—" She made a series of crackling and blowing noises that reminded Frank of a thunderstorm giving way to a nice cold front. "But you can call me Fleecy."

"Nebulae. . ." Percy muttered in a daze. "Cloud nymphs."

She seemed surprised, "Two in one day, I should try the lottery. But dear me, he doesn't look so good. Come to the back. My boss wants to meet you. We'll get your friend fixed up."

Fleecy led them through the produce aisle, between rows of eggplants, kiwis, lotus fruit, and pomegranates. At the back of the store, behind a counter with an old-fashioned cash register, stood a middle-aged woman with olive skin, long black hair, rimless glasses, and a T-shirt that read: The Goddess Is Alive! She wore amber necklaces and turquoise rings. She smelled like rose petals.

"Hello!" She leaned over the counter, which was lined with dozens of little statues—waving Chinese cats, meditating Buddhas, Saint Francis bobble heads, and novelty dippy drinking birds with top hats. "So glad you're here. I'm Iris!"

Hazel's eyes widened. "Not the Iris—the rainbow goddess?"

Iris made a face. "Well, that's my official job, yes. But I don't define myself by my corporate identity. In my spare time, I run this!" She gestured around her proudly. "The R.O.F.L. Co-op—an employee-run cooperative promoting healthy alternative lifestyles and organic foods."

Frank stared at her. "But you throw Ding Dongs at monsters."

Iris looked horrified. "Oh, they're not Ding Dongs." She rummaged under the counter and brought out a package of chocolate-covered cakes that looked exactly like Ding Dongs. "These are gluten-free, no-sugar-added, vitamin-enriched, soy-free, goat-milk-and-seaweed-based cupcake simulations."

"All natural!" Fleecy chimed in.

"I stand corrected."

Iris smiled. "You should try one, Frank. You're lactose intolerant, aren't you?"

"How did you—"

"I know these things. Being the messenger goddess…well, I do learn a lot, hearing all the communications from the gods and so on." She tossed the cakes on the counter. "Besides, those monsters should be glad to have some healthy snacks. Always eating junk food and heroes. They're so unenlightened. I couldn't have them tromping through my store, tearing up things and disturbing our feng shui."

Percy leaned against the counter. He looked like he was going to throw up. "Monsters marching south," he said with difficulty. "Going to destroy our camp. Couldn't you stop them?"

"Oh, I'm strictly nonviolent," Iris said. "I can act in self-defense, but I won't be drawn into any more Olympian aggression, thank you very much. I've been reading about Buddhism. And Taoism. I haven't decided between them."

"But…" Hazel looked mystified. "Aren't you a Greek goddess?"

Iris crossed her arms. "Don't try to put me in a box, demigod! I'm not defined by my past."

"Um, okay," Hazel said. "Could you at least help our friend here? I think he's sick."

Percy reached across the counter. "Iris-message," he said. "Can you send one?"

Frank wasn't sure he'd heard right. "Iris-message?"

"It's a form of communication between demigods, usually you throw a drachma into a rainbow and say out the name of the person you want to talk to." Valen blurted out.

Iris studied the two demigods, "Interesting. You're from Camp Jupiter, and yet…Oh I see, Juno is up to her tricks."

"What?" Hazel asked.

Iris glanced at her assistant, Fleecy. They seemed to have a silent conversation. Then the goddess pulled a vial from behind the counter and sprayed some honeysuckle-smelling oil around Percy's face. "There, that should balance your chakra. As for Iris-messages, yes I imagine…Fleecy could you give it a try?"

"Sure, boss!"

Iris winked at Frank. "Don't tell the other gods, but Fleecy handles most of my messages these days. She's wonderful at it, really, and I don't have time to answer all those requests personally. It messes up my wa."

"Your wa?" Frank asked.

"Mmm. Fleecy, why don't you take Percy, Valen, and Hazel into the back? You can get them something to eat while you arrange their messages. And for Percy…yes, memory sickness. I imagine that old Polybotes…well, meeting him in a state of amnesia can't be good for a child of P—that is to say, Neptune. Fleecy, give him a cup of green tea with organic honey and wheat germ and some of my medicinal powder number five. That should fix him up."

Valen perked up, "Do you have anything to remedy scrambled memories?"

Iris stared at him for a long while, "Oh dear, someone did a number on you. Your chakra is all over the place. Fleecy, give him number seven. That should help, but I'm afraid it's mostly up to you."

Hazel frowned. "What about Frank?"

"Oh, don't worry," Iris said. "Frank and I have a lot to talk about."

As expected, the tea did not instantly fix him up. It did make his headache go away completely, however. And his mind seemed clearer than ever, as if something had been buzzing inside his head and was finally removed.

Percy felt a lot better after finishing his own tea, and was no longer half conscious and was able to speak and stand properly.

Fleecy waited patiently for them before offering to start the message. "Do you have any Drachma?"

Valen fished out a Drachma from his ring. He tossed it into the rainbow Fleecy had conjured.

"Who do you want to talk to?"

"Annabeth," Percy said instantly. Yet, the rainbow remained blank and unresponsive.

"Huh, that's weird." she said, trying once more. But the results were the same.

"Is there no other way?" he asked, crestfallen.

She shook her head sadly. "It's like you're dialing somebody," she said, "but you've forgotten the number. Or someone is jamming the signal. Sorry, dear. I just can't connect to you."

Valen patted him on the back, "It'll be alright, once we regain our memories, we'll know where to find her."

Percy nodded thankfully.

Valen sighed, "Let's try again, but this time direct us to Reyna at Camp Jupiter."

Fleecy nodded and conjured the rainbow again, "You can use my direct number, just say 'O' Fleecy do me a solid' instead of the usual."

"Uh, sure. O' Fleecy, do me a solid. Show Reyna at Camp Jupiter."

The rainbow rippled and was replaced with a view of the baths, and a very, very surprised Reyna.

"Wha-" She almost jumped out of the water, but wisely chose to remain under it. She grabbed her towel and covered herself up before glaring at the Iris-Message.

"Maybe we should call sometime else?" Percy said, looking away.

"Yeah, we'll uh call again in fifteen minutes?" Valen said, using his hand to block the rainbow.

Reyna sighed, "No, it's fine. Go ahead."

And so, they told her what they had found out. But as expected, she was not very surprised.

"It doesn't change anything," she said. "I'll be doing all I can to shore up our defenses, but unless you unleash Death and return with the eagle. There is not much we can do."

"Figured as much," Valen said. "We'll try to get back as soon as possible, but in case we don't you should be ready to relocate. The camp's survival is more important than honor."

Reyna nodded, "I understand, we'll try to hold out as long as possible. And if the worst comes to pass, we will let you know of the camp's new location by Iris-messaging, was it?"

He nodded, explaining to her how to do it.

"Alright," she said. "Good luck legionnaires, gods know we need it."

"Good luck," he replied, waving his hand through the rainbow and ending the conversation.

He turned to the others, "We should probably go check on Frank."

They nodded their agreement. But when they returned to where Iris was, Frank was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Frank?" Percy asked.

"Oh don't worry, he's just out there fighting those pesky basilisks."

"What?!" he exclaimed, already beginning to leave, but Iris stopped him.

"Here, you'll need this," she shoved a man-satchel in his arms. "Oh that looks good."

He was too flabbergasted to respond, and chose instead to run out without saying another word. The others followed close behind, their own weapons held in their hands.

They ran into the clearing, which had been burnt and withered almost entirely, and found Frank standing alone with a golden pole in his arms.

Are you okay?" Hazel asked.

Percy turned in a circle, looking for enemies. "Iris told us you were out here battling the basilisks by yourself, and we were like, What? We came as fast as we could. What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Frank admitted.

Valen knelt down next to a patch of dirt, "This place reeks of death." He sniffed, narrowing his eyes, it was a familiar scent. "The basilisks are dead," he said.

Percy stared at Frank in awe. "You killed them all?"

Frank swallowed and didn't respond. He stared at the pole for a while before speaking.

"Thanks a lot, Dad," he grumbled.

"What?" Hazel asked. "Frank, are you okay?"

"I'll explain later," he said. "Right now, there's a blind man in Portland we've got to see."

They filled Frank in once they were on the boat, but after seeing the monster army headed for camp, no one felt like talking much.

Valen stared into the distance, his memories were a lot clearer now, thanks to Iris. He could almost remember parts of his past. How he had been claimed and sent on a quest to free a goddess, how he had been trained by Achilles himself, and the battle of Manhattan.

He glanced at Percy, who was busy controlling the boat. From the troubled look on his face, he was beginning to remember as well. He could not let Octavian know of this. From what Reyna said, he would like nothing more than to destroy Camp Half-Blood in its entirety.

A couple hours of silence passed before he saw Percy tie a harness around a whale, and the boat turned down as the whale began pulling them. He stumbled as he let go of control over the boat, his eyes had begun drooping. After Frank and Hazel's insistence, he finally agreed to take a nap.

Valen stayed awake for a couple more hours, long enough to see the first vestiges of sunlight seeping into the horizon. He sighed, resting his face on his knuckle, and drifted off into the land of dreams.

And dream he did.

He found himself in a hunter tent, where Zoe and Thalia were talking.

"Thou found him then?"

Thalia nodded, "He was with the new campers, going under a false name."

"And he did not return with you?" she asked.

"Hera didn't send him back with us," she said with some venom. "Of course, she had to mess it up."

She sighed, "What about Perseus?"

Thalia shook her head, "We have nothing, Tyson says he can smell him, but it's very faint."

The scene shifted to the aforementioned Cyclops and a hellhound roaming over the yellow hills of California. He kept yelling Percy's and Valen's names, stopping to sniff the air every once in a while.

"They smell farther away," the Cyclops moaned to the dog. "Why does he smell farther?"

"ROOF!" the dog barked, and the dream twisted again.

He was back in the dark castle, back in the room he had first primed in. A man made entirely out of wispy darkness stared right at him.

"We are running out of time, Valen," he said. "You must regain your memories, only then can we become one."

He sighed, "The pit is awake, and the earth merely needs a blood sacrifice. It will not be long before they make their move. Hurry, Valen, hurry."

A single drop of rain woke him up from his slumber, and he awoke to grey clouds and cold rain. Their speed boat floated on an iron black river through the middle of a city. To their left were industrial warehouses and railroad tracks. To their right was a small downtown area—an almost cozy-looking cluster of towers between the banks of the river and a line of misty forested hills.

Percy woke up a moment later, rubbing the sleep off his eyes, "How did we get here?"

Frank gave him a look like, You won't believe this. "The killer whale took us as far as the Columbia River. Then he passed the harness to a couple of twelve-foot sturgeons. The sturgeons pulled us for a long time. Hazel and I took turns sleeping. Then we hit this river—"

"The Willamette," Hazel offered.

"Right," Frank said. "After that, the boat kind of took over and navigated us here all by itself. Sleep okay?"

As they continued south, Percy and Valen took turns to explain their dreams. Initially, they were surprised that they had had the same dream about the Cyclops and the hellhound, but considering they were looking for them it wasn't that outlandish. He held back about the shadow man speaking to him, they did not need another thing to worry about on the quest.

When Percy described the Roman fort on the ice, Hazel looked troubled.

"So Alcyoneus is on a glacier," she said. "That doesn't narrow it down much. Alaska has hundreds of those."

Percy nodded. "Maybe this seer dude Phineas can tell us which one."

The boat docked itself at a wharf. The three demigods stared up at the buildings of drizzly downtown Portland.

Frank wiped the rain off his flat-top hair.

"So now we find a blind man in the rain," Frank said.

"Oh joy," Valen said dryly.

As it turns out, it wasn't that hard to find Phineas. It would be difficult to miss the screaming and weed whacker.

They'd brought lightweight Polartec jackets with their supplies, so they bundled up against the cold rain and walked for a few blocks through the mostly deserted streets.

They saw some bicycle traffic and a few homeless guys huddled in doorways, but the majority of Portlanders seemed to be staying indoors.

They were walking down Glison Street, when they heard a voice yelling: "HA! TAKE THAT, STUPID CHICKENS!" followed by the revving of a small engine and a lot of squawking.

Percy glanced at his friends. "You think—?"

"Probably," Frank agreed.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it was him." Valen said.

They ran toward the sounds. The next block over, they found a big open parking lot with tree-lined sidewalks and rows of food trucks facing the streets on all four sides. Some were simple white metal boxes on wheels, with awnings and serving counters. Others were painted blue or purple or polka-dotted, with big banners out front and colorful menu boards and tables like do-it-yourself sidewalk cafés. One advertised Korean/Brazilian fusion tacos, which sounded like some kind of top-secret radioactive cuisine. Another offered sushi on a stick. A third was selling deep-fried ice cream sandwiches.

In the center of the lot, behind all the food trucks, an old man in a bathrobe was running around with a weed whacker, screaming at a flock of bird-ladies who were trying to steal food off a picnic table.

"Harpies," said Hazel. "Which means—"

"That's Phineas," Frank guessed.

They ran across the street and squeezed between the Korean/Brazilian truck and a Chinese egg roll burrito vendor. The backs of the food trucks weren't nearly as appetizing as the fronts. They were cluttered with stacks of plastic buckets, overflowing garbage cans, and makeshift clotheslines hung with wet aprons and towels. The parking lot itself was nothing but a square of cracked asphalt, marbled with weeds. In the middle was a picnic table piled high with food from all the different trucks.

The guy in the bathrobe was old and fat. He was mostly bald, with scars across his forehead and a rim of stringy white hair. His bathrobe was spattered with ketchup, and he kept stumbling around in fuzzy pink bunny slippers, swinging his gas-powered weed whacker at the half-dozen harpies who were hovering over his picnic table.

He was clearly blind. His eyes were milky white, and usually he missed the harpies by a lot, but he was still doing a pretty good job fending them off.

"Back, dirty chickens!" he bellowed.

"Those harpies look starved," Valen stated. Their human faces had sunken eyes and hollow cheeks. Their bodies were covered in molting feathers, and their wings were tipped with tiny, shriveled hands. They wore ragged burlap sacks for dresses. As they dived for the food, they seemed more desperate than angry.

WHIRRRR! The old man swung his weed whacker. He grazed one of the harpies' wings. The harpy yelped in pain and fluttered off, dropping yellow feathers as she flew.

Another harpy circled higher than the rest. She looked younger and smaller than the others, with bright-red feathers.

She watched carefully for an opening, and when the old man's back was turned, she made a wild dive for the table. She grabbed a burrito in her clawed feet, but before she could escape, the blind man swung his weed whacker and smacked her in the back hard. The harpy yelped, dropped the burrito, and flew off.

Valen raised his arm, summoning the weed whacker to him, "I think that's quite enough from you."

The harpies took that the wrong way. They glanced over at the three demigods and immediately fled. Most of them fluttered away and perched in the trees around the square, staring dejectedly at the picnic table. The red-feathered one with the hurt back flew unsteadily down Glisan Street and out of sight.

"Ha!" The blind man yelled in triumph. He grinned vacantly in their direction. "Thank you, strangers! Your help is most appreciated."

"Uh, whatever," Percy said, approaching him, "I'm Percy Jackson. This is—"

"Demigods!" the old man said. "I can always smell demigods."

Hazel frowned. "Do we smell that bad?"

The old man laughed. "Of course not, my dear. But you'd be surprised how sharp my other senses became once I was blinded. I'm Phineas. And you—wait, don't tell me—"

He reached for Percy's face and poked him in the eyes.

"Ow!" Percy complained.

"Son of Neptune!" Phineas exclaimed. "I thought I smelled the ocean on you, Percy Jackson. I'm also a son of Neptune, you know."

"Hey…yeah. Okay." Percy rubbed his eyes.

Phineas turned to Hazel. "And here…oh my, the smell of gold and deep earth. Hazel Levesque, daughter of Pluto."

He turned to Valen, and sniffed, "Hmm, you smell like blood and darkness. Along with a hint of rain and thunder. Son of Pluto, as well as a grandson of Thor. And oh, what's this!"

He got closer, right up to his face, smelling him, "Oh, oh my, a Dominant. Haven't seen one of you in a long time."

"Are you done?" Valen said, leaning away from him.

Phineas snapped back to place, "And next to you—the son of Mars. But there's more to your story, Frank Zhang—"

"Ancient blood," Frank muttered. "Prince of Pylos. Blah, blah, blah."

"Periclymenus, exactly! Oh, he was a nice fellow. I loved the Argonauts!"

Frank's mouth fell open. "W-wait. Perry who?"

Phineas grinned. "Don't worry. I know about your family. That story about your great-grandfather? He didn't really destroy the camp. Now, what an interesting group. Are you hungry?"

Frank looked like he'd been run over by a truck, but Phineas had already moved on to other matters. He waved his hand at the picnic table. In the nearby trees, the harpies shrieked miserably.

"Look, I'm confused," Percy said. "We need some information. We were told—"

"—that the harpies were keeping my food away from me," Phineas finished, "and if you helped me, I'd help you."

"Something like that," Percy admitted.

Phineas laughed. "That's old news. Do I look like I'm missing any meals?"

He patted his belly, which was the size of an overinflated basketball.

"You look like you could do with a bit more exercise," Valen said.

"I get plenty of exercise chasing away those harpies."

"Things have changed, my friends!" he said. "When I first got the gift of prophecy, eons ago, it's true Jupiter cursed me. He sent the harpies to steal my food. You see, I had a bit of a big mouth. I gave away too many secrets that the gods wanted kept." He turned to Hazel. "For instance, you're supposed to be dead. And you—" He turned to Frank. "Your life depends on a burned stick."

"You're supposed to be dead too, you know," Valen stated.

"And you're supposed to be preparing for the fall of the veil." he retorted back.

Valen looked taken aback. The fall of the veil? What veil? The doors are already compromised so it can't be the veil between life and death. What then…

Percy frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Hazel blinked like she'd been slapped. Frank looked like a truck had run him over.

"And you," Phineas turned to Percy, "well now, you don't even know who you are! I could tell you, of course, but…ha! What fun would that be? And Brigid O'Shaughnessy shot Miles Archer in The Maltese Falcon. And Darth Vader is actually Luke's father. And the winner of the next Super Bowl will be—"

"Got it," Frank muttered.

Hazel gripped her sword like she was tempted to pommel-whip the old man. "So you talked too much, and the gods cursed you. Why did they stop?"

"Oh, they didn't!" The old man arched his bushy eyebrows like, Can you believe it? "I had to make a deal with the Argonauts. They wanted information too, you see. I told them to kill the harpies, and I'd cooperate. Well, they drove those nasty creatures away, but Iris wouldn't let them kill the harpies. An outrage! So this time, when my patron brought me back to life—"

"Your patron?" Frank asked.

Phineas gave him a wicked grin. "Why, Gaea, of course. Who do you think opened the Doors of Death? Your girlfriend here understands. Isn't Gaea your patron, too?"

Hazel drew her sword. "I'm not his—I don't—Gaea is not my patron!"

Phineas looked amused. If he had heard the sword being drawn, he didn't seem concerned. "Fine, if you want to be noble and stick with the losing side, that's your business. But Gaea is waking. She's already rewritten the rules of life and death! I'm alive again, and in exchange for myhelp—a prophecy here, a prophecy there—I get my fondest wish. The tables have been turned, so to speak. Now I can eat all I want, all day long, and the harpies have to watch and starve."

"Why can't they eat from somewhere else?" Frank whispered to his friends.

"They're cursed!" the old man said. "They can eat only food from my table, and they can't leave Portland. Since the Doors of Death are open, they can't even die. It's beautiful!"

"Beautiful?" Frank protested. "They're living creatures. Why are you so mean to them?"

"They're monsters!" Phineas said. "And mean? Those feather-brained demons tormented me for years!"

"But it was their duty," Percy said, trying to control himself. "Jupiter ordered them to."

"Oh, I'm mad at Jupiter, too," Phineas agreed. "In time, Gaea will see that the gods are properly punished. Horrible job they've done, ruling the world. But for now, I'm enjoying Portland. The mortals take no notice of me. They think I'm just a crazy old man shooing away pigeons!"

Hazel advanced on the seer. "You're awful!" she told Phineas. "You belong in the Fields of Punishment!"

Phineas sneered. "One dead person to another, girlie? I wouldn't be talking. You started this whole thing! If it weren't for you, Alcyoneus wouldn't be alive!"

"Ha!" Phineas said. "You'll find out soon enough, Frank Zhang. Then we'll see if you're still sweet on your girlfriend. But that's not what you're here about, is it? You want to find Thanatos. He's being kept at Alcyoneus's lair. I can tell you where that is. Of course I can. But you'll have to do me a favor."

"Forget it," Hazel snapped. "You're working for the enemy. We should send you back to the Underworld ourselves."

"You could try." Phineas smiled. "But I doubt I'd stay dead very long. You see, Gaea has shown me the easy way back. And with Thanatos in chains, there's no one to keep me down! Besides, if you kill me, you won't get my secrets."

"What's the favor?" Valen asked. Once we get the information we need, you're going to wish you went to the fields of punishment.

Phineas licked his lips greedily. "There's one harpy who's quicker than the rest."

"The red one," Percy guessed.

"I'm blind! I don't know colors!" the old man groused.

"At any rate, she's the only one I have trouble with. She's wily, that one. Always does her own thing, never roosts with the others. She gave me these."

He pointed at the scars on his forehead.

"Capture that harpy," he said. "Bring her to me. I want her tied up where I can keep an eye on her…ah, so to speak. Harpies hate being tied up. It causes them extreme pain. Yes, I'll enjoy that. Maybe I'll even feed her so that she lasts longer."

Valen's fingers twitched, he glanced at the others. They came to a silent agreement.

"We'll need some of your food." Percy shouldered his way around the old man and snatched stuff off the picnic table—a covered bowl of Thai noodles in mac-and-cheese sauce, and a tubular pastry that looked like a combination burrito and cinnamon roll.

Before he could lose control and smash the burrito in Phineas's face, Percy said, "Come on, guys." He led his friends out of the parking lot. They stopped across the street.

"That man…" Hazel smacked the side of a bus-stop bench. "He needs to die. Again."

"Permanently," Valen said, summoning Stormguard, "I have something in mind. Once we're done, he's never coming back to the world of the living.

"We'll get him," Percy promised. "He's nothing like you, Hazel. I don't care what he says."

She shook her head. "You don't know the whole story. I should have been sent to Punishment. I—I'm just as bad—"

"No, you're not!" Frank balled his fists. He looked around like he was searching for anybody who might disagree with him—enemies he could hit for Hazel's sake. "She's a good person!" he yelled across the street. A few harpies squawked in the trees, but no one else paid them any attention.

"Frank..." she stammered. "I—I don't..."

Unfortunately, Frank seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts. He slung his spear off his back and gripped it uneasily.

"I could intimidate that old man," he offered, "maybe scare him—"

"Don't you think," Valen said through grit teeth, "I would have done that already if I thought he could be intimidated?"

"I've got an idea," Percy said, changing the topic. "The red-feathered harpy went that way. Let's see if we can get her to talk to us."

Hazel looked at the food in his hands. "You're going to use that as bait?"

"More like a peace offering," Percy said. "Come on. Just try to keep the other harpies from stealing this stuff, okay?"

Percy uncovered the Thai noodles and unwrapped the cinnamon burrito. Fragrant steam wafted into the air. They walked down the street, weapons in hand. The harpies fluttered after them, perching on trees, mailboxes, and flagpoles, following the smell of food.

Valen glared at them, he was ready to strike out at a moment's notice.

Finally they spotted her, circling above a stretch of parkland that ran for several blocks between rows of old stone buildings. Paths stretched through the park under huge maple and elm trees, past sculptures and playgrounds and shady benches.

They crossed the street and found a bench to sit on, next to a big bronze sculpture of an elephant. "Looks like Hannibal," Hazel said. "Except it's Chinese," Frank said. "My grandmother has one of those." He flinched. "I mean, hers isn't twelve feet tall. But she imports stuff…from China. We're Chinese."

He looked at the others, Valen gave him a sympathetic smile, while Hazel and Percy were trying hard not to laugh.

"Could I just die from embarrassment now?" he asked.

"Don't worry about it, man," Percy said. "Let's see if we can make friends with the harpy."

He raised the Thai noodles and fanned the smell upward—spicy peppers and cheesy goodness. The red harpy circled lower.

"We won't hurt you," Percy called up in a normal voice. "We just want to talk. Thai noodles for a chance to talk, okay?"

The harpy streaked down in a flash of red and landed on the elephant statue. She was painfully thin. Her feathery legs were like sticks. Her face would have been pretty except for her sunken cheeks. She moved in jerky birdlike twitches, her coffee-brown eyes darting restlessly, her fingers clawing at her plumage, her earlobes, her shaggy red hair.

"Cheese," she muttered, looking sideways. "Ella doesn't like cheese."

Percy hesitated. "Your name is Ella?"

"Ella. Aella. 'Harpy.' In English. In Latin. Ella doesn't like cheese." She said all that without taking a breath or making eye contact. Her hands snatched at her hair, her burlap dress, the raindrops, whatever moved.

Quicker than Percy could blink, she lunged, snatched the cinnamon burrito, and appeared atop the elephant again.

"Gods, she's fast!" Hazel said.

"And heavily caffeinated," Frank guessed.

"Relatable," Valen muttered.

Ella sniffed the burrito. She nibbled at the edge and shuddered from head to foot, cawing like she was dying. "Cinnamon is good," she pronounced. "Good for harpies. Yum."

She started to eat, but the bigger harpies swooped down. They began pummeling Ella with their wings, snatching at the burrito.

"Hey!" Valen yelled, holding his arm out, encasing the other two harpies in shadow domes. He pulled them towards them before opening the dome enough for them to see outside.

"You can have the rest, just not that." He said, "Are we clear?"

They nodded vigorously and Valen let them go, watching them like a hawk as they tore at the noodles.

They waited for Ella to finish her food before approaching her.

"Ella," Percy said, "we want to be your friends. We can get you more food, but—"

"Friends," Ella said. "'Ten seasons. 1994 to 2004.'" She glanced sideways at Percy, then looked in the air and started reciting to the clouds. "'A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds.' Sixteen. You're sixteen. Page sixteen, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. 'Ingredients: Bacon, Butter.'"

Valen froze, zoning out at the lines of prophecy. He remembered those lines, the first great prophecy.

"Ella," Percy said, "what was that you said?"

"'Bacon.'" She caught a raindrop out of the air. "'Butter.'"

"No, before that. Those lines…I know those lines."

"A half-blood of the eldest gods, shall reach sixteen against all odds," Valen recited, "And see the world in endless sleep, the hero's soul cursed blade shall reap."

"A single choice shall end his days," Percy continued, "Olympus to preserve or raze."

"The old great prophecy," Valen whispered, "The one describing the second Titanomachy."

"You mean the siege on Mount Tam?" Hazel said

Percy shook his head, "No, th-there was a war in Manhattan. I should know, I-." He screeched to a halt, confused.

"What do you mean?" Frank said, "The titans faded once we destroyed their throne. We didn't hear about a war."

"Of course you didn't," Valen muttered, "Anyways, the important thing is, how does she know that?"

"Maybe it's something she heard Phineas say?" Hazel suggested.

At the name Phineas, Ella squawked in terror and flew away.

"Wait!" Hazel called. "I didn't mean—Oh, gods, I'm stupid."

"It's all right." Frank pointed. "Look."

Ella wasn't moving as quickly now. She flapped her way to the top of a three-story red brick building and scuttled out of sight over the roof. A single red feather fluttered down to the street.

"You think that's her nest?" Frank squinted at the sign on the building. "Multnomah County Library?"

Percy nodded. "Let's see if it's open."