Chapter One

I Didn't Sign Up for a Sand Facial

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You know, I never really thought I'd get sent back to… well, wherever here was. And oh boy, do I have a story to tell. It might be just as crazy as my other ones, though with fewer angry gods and, thankfully, only one cyclops. Where should I even start…? (What?) Oh, sorry—Annabeth's telling me to start at the beginning. Guess she doesn't trust me with flashbacks.

So, I'm pretty sure you readers already know who I am, thanks to… ahem, a certain author who loves writing about my near-death experiences. You get the gist of what I do—fight monsters, save the world, annoy gods. Typical demigod stuff. But did you know I've recently picked up sewing? Yeah, seriously! Annabeth's been teaching me, and it's actually kind of therapeutic. Better than dodging arrows, right? (What? Right, I'm getting off-topic. Needle to focus, Percy!)

If you don't know who I am, well, consider yourself lucky. Sometimes I wish I didn't know either (sorry, Dad). My name's Percy Jackson, and I'm the son of Poseidon—lord of the seas and, apparently, bad luck.

Anyway, it all started when Grover, Annabeth, and I stumbled upon this ancient device—probably built by Hephaestus, because of course it was. The guy can't resist leaving random traps lying around like a Greek version of IKEA.

We were on our way to California, but we'd stopped at a gas station in Nebraska. Yup, Nebraska. Poseidon's least favorite state. I was walking behind Annabeth and Grover, who were in a full-on debate about the map, like it was going to change just because they argued hard enough. Spoiler alert: it didn't.

"You guys still haven't figured it out?" I asked, sighing. "It's been three hours, and I'm pretty sure the road signs are mocking us at this point."

"Shut up," they both snapped at me in unison. They're great friends, really.

I rolled my eyes, paid for the gas, and said, "Well, the car's filled up. Let's get rolling before we get turned into roadkill by some random monster."

Once we were back in the car, I buckled up and looked at Annabeth, who was staring at the map like it had insulted her intelligence. "Any luck, wise girl?" I asked, glancing at Grover through the rearview mirror, who was nervously chewing on his shirt collar.

Annabeth sighed. "Well, we've got two options. We can take the road that leads us to Homestead National Historic Park, or head south toward Kansas. Theoretically, going south is safer, based on what our… friend mentioned."

Grover shuddered. Yeah, our "friend" was a twin-headed dracaena with breath so bad even monsters wouldn't want to smell it. Both heads kept giving Grover this hungry look, like he was a goat-flavored popsicle. She warned us that heading west from Nebraska toward Wyoming would lead to a whole lot of problems. The kind I'd really prefer not to deal with—especially since I was driving Paul's car, and I don't think "sorry, got wrecked in a demigod battle" would fly with him.

I wasn't exactly thrilled with either option. On one hand, I really didn't want to drive Paul's car through some monster-infested road. On the other hand, Kansas didn't sound much better. I mean, nothing good ever comes from Kansas in the world of demigods, right?

Annabeth squinted at the map, "Well, we've got to choose soon. If we go west, it's going to add time to our trip, but we'll be avoiding the heavier monster hotspots—if we trust that dracaena's word."

"Which I don't," Grover muttered from the backseat.

"Right," I said. "So, south it is?"

"Hold on, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth shot back, finally looking up from the map. "We don't know if the southern route is any better. That dracaena didn't say which monsters would be waiting for us, just that we'd have fewer problems going south. Fewer doesn't mean none."

I was about to say something snarky when suddenly the ground started to rumble. You know, typical "Oh no, what's about to try and kill us" demigod moment. Grover let out a startled bleat, and I instinctively gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"What the Hades—" I started, but before I could finish, something shiny caught my eye out the window. At the edge of the gas station parking lot, half-buried in the ground, was a weird-looking metal thing. It didn't look like anything I'd seen before, but it was glowing faintly.

Annabeth was already out of the car before I could blink. I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt and ran after her.

"Percy, this could be huge!" she said, crouching down to inspect the thing. "It looks ancient, maybe even older than Hephaestus' usual work."

I had a bad feeling about this. Usually, when we find mysterious, ancient, glowing stuff, it doesn't end with us having a relaxing road trip.

"So, uh... do we touch it or…?"

Before Annabeth could answer, the ground shook again, and the device started to whir, making a low humming noise. And that's when I realized we were in for one of those quests again. You know, the kind where things go from bad to worse really fast.

Suddenly, the device lit up like a disco ball on steroids, and then came the falling. Except, it didn't feel like falling, not at first. It was more like I was just floating in mid-air, you know, casual magic stuff, before gravity remembered I existed and dropped me face-first into the sand.

I sat up, spitting out a mouthful of sand, which, fun fact, does not taste any better than it looks. To my right, Annabeth was grumbling about sand getting in her hair, and let me tell you, sand in Annabeth's hair? Not a fun time for anyone involved.

I rubbed my face and finally looked around, and that's when I saw it—the ocean. Which made no sense because, last I checked, Nebraska was not known for its beachfront views.

"Uh, where are we?" I mumbled, still trying to process the fact that I'd just gone from gas station parking lot to sandy beach in about two seconds.

Annabeth was just as confused, which is saying something because she's usually five steps ahead of everyone else.

Before we could figure anything out, we heard a stick snap behind us. We whipped around so fast I nearly fell over, scrambling to my feet like someone had just yelled "monster!" (Because, let's be real, they usually do.) Standing at the edge of the forest were two men. One of them had long brown hair and this super weathered look on his face, wearing Greek armor like he just walked out of a history book. The other guy had shorter hair with a red bandana tied around his head, also rocking some ancient Greek breastplate action.

"Who are you two?" the long-haired guy asked, eyeing us like we were the weird ones—which, okay, we probably looked pretty out of place in our jeans and T-shirts. But still, this dude looked like he just stepped off a Trojan battlefield.

I was about to introduce myself all friendly-like, because what else are you supposed to do when an ancient Greek hero is staring you down? "Oh, uh, I'm Perc—"

But Annabeth cut me off, gasping like she'd just met her favorite celebrity. "Wait, I know you! You're Odysseus!"

I blinked and looked at the guy again. Now that she mentioned it, yeah, he did look like the guy from the textbook pictures Mr. Brunner—er, Chiron—used to show me back in grade school. Odysseus, the king of tricky plans and terrible luck. Great. Just what we needed.

Odysseus narrowed his eyes, and his hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. "How do you know my name? And I won't ask again."

He pulled out his iron sword, and suddenly I was rethinking our whole "let's chat with the legendary hero" plan. I glanced at Annabeth, and she gave me that look, the one that said "Let me do the talking," but I wasn't exactly sold on that idea. After a silent back-and-forth, she won. Of course.

I sighed and raised my hands, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "Listen, pal, I can explain… but it's gonna be a really long story."