In the deepest, most shadowed chamber of his fortress in Hell, Asmodeus, sat upon his obsidian throne, his crimson eyes glowing with intensity. The air around him buzzed with the hum of ancient power. He held in his hands the Eye of the Cyclops, a powerful and cursed relic for their kind. The Eye, a single, milky orb with a swirling yellow sphere, like an egg yolk, he noted. It had been gifted to Asmodeus in exchange for a service, one of technical equal trade, so the Demon lord was free to do whatever he wished with the artefact.
He shrank it down, and placed it into his left eye socket.
The world around him distorted as the Eye's power seemed to drip through him. The fortress walls, marble, thick and crumbling, seemed to fade away, a few forms had stood out — faceless shadows, concealed, operating under the very nose of his faction. Spies. His minions, his allies, were not what they seemed. His superiors had unknowingly allowed enemies into their ranks.
Through the Eye, Asmodeus could see the truth of their actions. Encrypted messages, dead drops, and alliances forged. Not with Hell, but with Evergreen, a power that sought to control both Heaven and Hell, was using his own faction as pawns.
The demon lord's lips curled into a malicious grin, sharp fangs glinting. His rage, smoldering beneath the surface, slowly began to boil, but instead of fury, he felt a cold, calculating satisfaction. Demons had always enjoyed the game of manipulation, and now, his foes had given him the ultimate opportunity for a counterattack.
But first, the spies.
In the distance, the echoes of the Eye's revelation rang out, reaching the ears of those who still believed themselves safe within the fortress walls. All were silenced moments later. Terrified staff had looked on in horror as bodies had combusted into ash beside them.
By the end of the day, The Evergreen Family would be left with nothing beneath the soil they stood on.
Percy was making his way back from the Apollo cabin when he found himself near the edge of the forest. The air here was thick with the scent of pine, the rustling leaves murmuring in the breeze. He hadn't meant to wander so close—his mind had been occupied with Minerva's insistence on securing the last of the Regen-Ex components. His internal debate over how to go about it was cut short when he heard an unmistakable voice behind him.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite headache," Dionysus drawled.
turned to find the god of wine and madness standing a few feet away, a Diet Coke can in his hand, half-empty. Mr. D looked as disheveled as ever, his Hawaiian shirt slightly unbuttoned, his curly hair in disarray. His eyes, however, held that same unnerving sharpness Percy had noticed back at the Big House.
"You're a long way from the card table," Percy said, crossing his arms.
Dionysus smirked. "And you're a long way from keeping a low profile."
Percy felt a flicker of irritation. "Didn't know I was supposed to be hiding."
Dionysus took a slow sip of his drink, watching Percy over the rim of the can. Then, he tilted his head slightly. "There's something riding along with you, Jackson."
Percy's stomach clenched. "I don't know what you're talking about."
The god of madness clicked his tongue. "You really should. Your mind is crowded, boy. Most people have their usual tangle of thoughts—regrets, fears, delusions. But yours?" He gave a lazy, amused grin. "There's another voice whispering in the cracks."
Minerva's voice was suddenly sharp in his mind. "He sees more than he lets on. Do not acknowledge."
"I think you've been drinking too much of that soda," Percy said, forcing an easy grin. "Maybe cut back."
Dionysus chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, don't worry. Whatever it is, I doubt it's my problem." He turned, meandering toward the trees, but then paused. Without looking back, he said, "Careful, Jackson. There's only so much room in one head."
And then he was gone, leaving Percy standing there. Minerva was unusually silent.
Dinner at Camp Half-Blood was as chaotic as ever. Campers sat at their designated tables, the scent of roasted meat, fresh bread, and strawberries filling the pavilion. Percy Sat with the Hermes cabin—technically unclaimed, like many of them, though that wasn't going to last much longer.
He had just taken a sip of his drink when a voice from the Ares table called out. "Hey, Jackson!"
He turned just in time to see a goblet of juice hurtling toward his head. Years of battle instincts kicked in. Without thinking, he twisted, letting the cup miss him by an inch—only for the contents to arc mid-air and splash perfectly onto Luke Castellan's lap instead. Huh, his abilities were slowly coming back to him.
The Hermes table erupted into laughter as Luke let out a startled curse, wiping at his now-soaked shirt. Even the Stoll brothers whistled in appreciation.
"Nice one," Travis muttered under his breath.
Percy shrugged. "Pure accident."
Before Luke could retaliate, a hush fell over the dining pavilion. The fire at the center of the pavilion flared, turning a deep shade of sea-green. Whispers started among the younger campers, confused but intrigued by the shift in color. The more senior demigods, however, froze in place, their expressions darkening with recognition.
Above Percy's head, a glowing green trident shimmered into existence.
At the head table, Chiron's expression was unreadable, though his fingers had tightened slightly around his goblet. Mr. D, as expected, barely looked up from his drink.
"What's with the glowstick?" a younger Hermes kid whispered, nudging his friend.
"It's his godly parent," an older Athena camper muttered. "Poseidon."
A few campers blinked in confusion. "So? What's the big deal?"
One of the senior Ares kids scoffed. "It means he's one of the Big Three, idiot."
Realization spread through the pavilion like a ripple. Some kids looked unimpressed. Others, mostly those who knew their history, exchanged uneasy glances.
Chiron tapped his goblet with a spoon, bringing the murmurs to a halt. His voice was calm, even measured. "All hail, Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."
There was an awkward pause before the campers halfheartedly echoed, "All hail, Percy Jackson."
Percy exhaled. The reaction was nowhere near as dramatic as he expected—some campers still looked confused, others just mildly interested. Only a select few seemed to grasp the weight of it, their expressions wary.
Athena stood at the edge of a clearing, arms folded, watching Dionysus as he strolled back toward the Big House. Father had 'requested' (read commanded) her to go and punish Dionysius for drinking alcohol during his tenure as director again. This would mark the eighteenth time this had happened, and another additional decade at his post.
The wine god had seemingly come from a conversation at the edge of the forest. A nature spirit perhaps? He was too relaxed, even when he sensed her presence, but paid no heed to it.. She did not trust Dionysus—no god with a dominion over madness could ever be truly relied upon.
"Something troubling you, Brother?" she asked, stepping forward.
Dionysus gave her a sideways glance and sighed. "You know, I was having a perfectly pleasant moment of not caring. And now, here you are."
Athena's gaze was steady, unyielding. "You know what you did. And I am doubly sure that you know the consequences of what you did."
Mr. D rolled his eyes. "Jackson's got something else rattling around in that thick skull of his. More than usual. That's why I had to bring it up"
The dunderhead was off in a completely wrong direction, but this takes precedence over the matter.
Athena's expression did not shift, "Explain yourself"
Dionysus took another sip of his drink, looking completely indifferent. "Oh, I don't know. It's a feeling. An itch at the edges of my perception. Normally, his head and his friends are filled with the usual hero nonsense. Whinge, whinge, whinge. But him? There's something else in there. Something that doesn't quite belong."
Athena remained silent for a moment, processing. Then, in a voice colder than marble, she asked, "And you did not think to address it?"
Dionysus snorted into the can. "Not my job, sweetheart. You're the one who obsesses over every little threat. I just make sure no one burns the camp down." He tossed his empty Diet Coke can to the side and stretched. "Besides, if it is a problem, I'm sure you'll handle it. You always do. Sister always has a plan! Toodles!"
Athena watched him go, her mind already running through the possibilities. A possession? No, that was unlikely. A lingering curse? Uncommon, but possible. Or something far worse—an external intelligence, the AI.
She would need to investigate further. Carefully.
Percy was finally settling into his cabin, stretching out on his bunk, when a knock sounded at the door. He sighed, already feeling the exhaustion from the day creeping in.
"Come in," he called, not bothering to sit up.
The door creaked open, and Annabeth stood at the doorstep—or at least, it looked like Annabeth.
Something was off.
Alert: Strong mist detected. Biometric variance detected. Neural input patterns inconsistent with subject "Annabeth Chase" Facial micro-tension at 0.43% deviation from standard baseline. Probability of impersonation: 89.7%.
Percy kept his expression neutral.
"Annabeth," he greeted carefully.
"Percy, " she said, tone measured, calculated.
Analysis: stance analysis incomplete. Subject proceeding with deliberate pacing. Prioritizing observational response. Recommended action: controlled verbal engagement. Varlet.
She glanced around the room as if appraising it, then walked further in, her steps too deliberate. "I thought I'd check on you," she said. "Settling in properly?"
Misstep: Even cloaked, she has at most 10 minutes before Poseidon will notice a hostile presence in his own cabin.
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Not exactly too hard."
"Of course not," she said smoothly, "but you are… different from the others."
"You've said that before, already."
"Of course I have."
Caution: Statement phrasing suggests probing for self-admission.
She shrugged. "I guess fighting the Minotaur solo and walking away does that to a guy."
Annabeth—or whatever wore her face—smiled. "Yes, remarkable. Almost too remarkable." She tilted her head, studying him. "Do you know the basics of camp life here? The lessons? The rules?"
Tensed slightly but forced himself to nod. "Yeah. They were pretty basic. Chiron gave me an overview while we were in the Big House."
She sat on the chair across from him, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Refresh my memory. What were you taught?"
Warning: Subject initiating forced recall of embedded memories. Response must match expected parameters.
She smirked. "Oh, you know. Greek Mythology 101. Camp Half-Blood has twelve cabins for the Olympians, plus a few extras. Big Three's kids get special treatment, but also a bigger target on their backs. Satyrs are scouts, Chiron's our trainer, and Mr. D is just here for the refreshments."
The false Annabeth chuckled as if amused. "And the rules?"
Attempt: Attempt to discover her mannerisms by the use of counter questioning.
Percy counted on his fingers. "Rule one: don't go into the woods alone unless you want to be monster chow. Rule two: don't steal from the Hermes cabin unless you enjoy waking up glued to the ceiling. Rule three: never bet against the Stoll brothers. Rule four—"
He glanced at her, expecting her to finish it, but she merely tilted her head.
Discrepancy: Athena.
Percy continued carefully. "—Don't ever turn your back on a sparring partner, especially if they're a child of Ares."
She nodded slightly. "Good. And Capture the Flag?"
Percy laughed. "What about it? I haven't played it yet. Does sound like an interesting concept though."
"Prepare yourself, we will have a competition soon. You shall be on my cabin's team. Consider yourself lucky."
Assessment: Subject has abandoned casual inquiry.
Percy forced a grin. "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes luck just means 'the gods felt like messing with me.'"
The false Annabeth held his gaze. Then, as if satisfied, she stood, looking at the roof. Not the roof, beyond it. He realized
"I was merely ensuring you were… adapting well."
Percy looked at her. "Yeah. I bet."
With that, she turned and left, leaving a lingering chill in the cabin.
Assessment: Subject "Athena" remains suspicious. Requesting threat reassessment: Code 78E.
Percy let out a slow breath. "Yeah. Thought so."
He opened his eyes. He found himself on a ship of some kind. Less of a ship, more of a landing craft. Bouncing on top of the waves, the sea spray constantly rained down on him and the men beside him. He realized he was clutching a staff of some kind, with a golden eye atop a metal handle. 50 men huddled around him, eyes unseeing, all clutching weapons of some kind. Railcannons, rifles, recoilless rifles, and staff like him. All clad in brilliant shades of azure blue and gold, he was in the uniform of the Undying Army. Stretching out his senses, he detected thousands of ships identical to his, filled with tiny clusters of life. Over the roar of the engines, he could distinctly hear the gruff tone of a commanding officer at the back, bellowing over the din of the engines as he tried to explain the plans.
A demigod dream. He had forgot he would be getting those
"Alright maggots! Legio Command has granted us the glory of being first on the assault! We were lucky enough to rope ourselves a second-born to help us on this landing! Our objective is to capture the anti-orbital arc batteries on this island! We will have ice shields for the first few seconds, but the defenders are dug in too well, the moment we land, the telekhines will conjure up a shield for the rest of us. During that time, either find a foxhole, or take out the defenses! We will not live, but who wants to live forever anyways? Do me proud!"
A chorus of 'sah's, 'sir's, and 'yeah' was what he got in response.
Squinting at the handle, he read the text inscribed on the steal.
Hydrokinetic shieldstaff mk. MCLIX
His heart sank. Even though it was a dream, the pain would be very real. Repertoire had been updated regularly since the gods had abandoned him, and sometimes, he would read up on whatever found his interest that day. Telekhines were individuals who had managed to pick up a minor talent in divine arts. They were put in charge of fueling miniature shield generators. Completely impenetrable, they were the backbone on any assault. Problem was, recovering from the staff often led to their immediate deaths, due to being targeted, or the staff would draw lifeblood if it found that the supplied energy was insufficient.
"No time to think now, ramp is down in 40 seconds!"
The moment the metal grate clattered down, he conjured up a shield. Not a moment too late either. What felt like thousands of stygian needles attempting to penetrate the translucent dome, he slowly inched forward, while the rest of the soldiers huddled behind the barrier. He felt his veins burning, as his exhausted magical reserves switched to burning his vitality. The sea-green shield slowly turned blood red, and the soldiers knew their protection would run out soon, quickly took out their shovels and dug in. Moments later, the barrier fizzled out, and he was met with black.
At least the dream was over, he thought.
Death of subject confirmed.
Minerva? No, her tone was too professional. It was the main Répertoire branch.
Rank: 9,843,139,122
Subject too valuable to qualify for the Fields of Asphodel.
Seeking replacement…
Replacement found. Rank: 48,693,720,582
Integrating…
HIs eyes opened again. He recognized himself. It was a soldier who initially was to his right hand side, when they made landfall. Grabbing the staff from his former corpse, he conjured up a shield again, inching ever closer to the bunkers dotted along the cliffs. The soldiers, recognizing the transference, struggled out of the sand before inching forward again. The shield sputtered out, and his world went black again.
Replacement found. Rank: 43,139,104,000
Integrating…
Another nameless soldier, another few meters, black, repeat.
Replacement found. Rank: 43,843,398,202
Integrating…
Over and over again.
They made it to the wall eventually.
This dream was rather boring, he thought.
The next few days passed in a blur. The demigod mainly focused on getting his abilities back. Regularly exercising controlling thin streams of water to circle him while he ran around the track all day. A few of the senior counselors had tried to get him to attend classes during that time, but they had all backed off once he decided to entertain Luke in his little duel. During that time, Minerva had been utilizing her relative freedom to plan out the future.
Minerva had laughed for the first time after looking at his face after she told him that she had sold off his college fund that Poseidon had saved for him in an overseas account.
His musings were interrupted by a distinctive daughter of Athena's voice moving through the forest.
"Jackson! If you're in there somewhere, pack it up! Mr. D needs to see you at the Big House in 5!"
Percy had been at Camp-Half Blood for many millennia, but it was only the fifth time he'd ventured into the staff quarters on the second floor of the main building. The corridor needed a lick of paint and the carpet was tired, but Chiron and Mr. D had evidently been competitive with their year-old Christmas decorations. The space outside each room was festooned with tinsel, flashing lights, ceiling decorations and tacky plastic snowmen.
The exception was a room at the far end of the hallway, where the walls were bare and music from Swan Lake boomed through the closed doorway.
"Mr. D" Percy shouted, as he banged on the door. "Are you in there?"
Percy realized Mr. D had to be in his room, unless he was in the habit of going out while leaving his CDs playing at full blast. He tried the door handle and peered into an airy space, with white walls, balcony doors and a trendy wooden floor.
"Mr. D," Percy shouted again, as he stepped into a living-room area. "Sir?"
The staff quarters were smaller than the attic on the floor above, which was a given. Outfitted with a separate bedroom and living space complete with its own compact kitchen.
Percy leaned into Dionysius's main room and saw him sprawled out over a recliner chair. A pair of expensive floor-standing loudspeakers blasted out Tchaikovsky's most famous ballet, while Dionysius conducted the non-existent orchestra with a Berol marker pen.
"Hello," Percy shouted, edging towards Dionysius before gently tapping him on the shoulder.
Dionysius looked around, startled, before pulling up his legs, doing a spectacular head over heels roll and somehow grabbing Percy around the neck. Before Percy could react, Dionysius swept his legs away and pinned him to the floor with the tip of a vine staff poised between his eyeballs. Its handle was gnarled and the head had worn away after thousands of years of regular polishing.
"Hades," Percy gasped. "Let me go!"
"Perry Jackson," Dionysius growled, as Swan Lake reached a booming climax. "I don't like people sneaking up on me."
"I didn't mean to startle you," Percy shouted nervously. "I knocked, but your music's so god-forsakenly loud."
Dionysius rolled off Percy and banished the staff back into a stand beside his bed as he stood up. The Hawaiian-print god straightened his cargo pants before grabbing the remote and turning off his music.
"Greetings, Mr. Jackson," Dionysius laughed. "You should train more for speed. You have the reflexes of an old lady."
"He's right, you know."
"Shut up."
Percy grunted as he used the kitchen worktop to lever himself up. Dionysius was at least the hundredth god to comment on his speed, but even a special programme had only done so much before Annabeth's augments had done the work.
"Many of my brothers were slow," Dionysius said, gesturing to some paintings and pots "It got them killed."
Percy looked at Dionysius in the pastel shades of oil and lacquer. He wore a chiton and stood beside an identically dressed and similar-looking boy. Neither could be more than twenty years old.
"I'm sorry," Percy said awkwardly, as he looked for another topic to talk about.
"You need to come for a training exercise, down in Vegas"
Percy smiled. "What makes you think I would say yes?"
"A demigod is much like a cat," Dionysius smiled ruefully. "He wants food, sex and fun. The food in the hall outside is better than I have here, I very much hope you didn't come to my room looking for sex, and the only fun I have to offer is a place at Athena's team. So am I right?"
"Of course!" Percy laughed.
"With the black hair and green eyes you really do remind me of Poseidon,' Dionysius grumbled. "Do you want to see where we're going?"
Percy actually wanted to get back to his training, but he knew it would do no harm to keep on the god's good side.
"Here you see the compound?" Dionysius asked, leading Percy towards a purple-green projection
"A quarter million acres of Nevada desert," Dionysius explained grandly. "Ares was very proud."
Percy studied the outlines of apartment blocks, thousands of houses, shopping areas and town squares, and the whole shebang fringed with golden desert. Some areas were set out in broad avenues like an American suburb, while others had tight pedestrian alleyways and Middle-Eastern style homes built around courtyards, or lines of shacks to represent the accommodation in a third-world shanty town.
In the far corner of 'Area Fulminus' was a military barracks with dozens of tents and permanent buildings, a full-sized air strip and a vast car park filled with the green outlines of everything from Hummers up to Abrams battle tanks.
Percy saw construction equipment and lots of newly planted trees. "It all looks brand new," he noted.
Dionysius nodded. "Opened last year. Ares is still moaning about how it cost him six-point-three billion dollars to build. It's the second biggest military training facility in the world, I think."
"Each exercise uses up to a few thousand individuals, mostly the unemployed, paid eighty bucks a day. An exercise lasts between ten days and three weeks and costs upwards of a hundred million dollars to run."
"And we'll be playing the good guys?"
"Wrong" Dionysius smirked. "They've already run a few exercises using teams of Special Forces to play insurgents, but they sucked."
The Courier of Insanity shifted his gaze onto the demigod.
"But what they really need is idiots from outside who can challenge their battle tactics during an exercise. We are sending some of you to train at Fulminus with Ares' boy for the first time and when the question of a red-team commander came up, Zeus threw up our name."
"Is that a golf course?" Percy gasped, as he tapped the greenest section of the divine map.
"Certainly is," Dionysius grinned. "You won't find many of those in downtown Baghdad or Mogadishu, but those generals need to get eighteen holes in once in a while."
"Chiron and the Athena squirts have a strategy: a few demigods, some spirits, and a handful amongst the civilian population. Annie Bell is planning to have those generals on their knees, within 2 days."
"I am curious, Varlet."
Percy was slightly perturbed by Dionysius's attitude. It didn't sound much like a holiday in Vegas followed by an enjoyable training exercise that Minerva had thought up.
"So when do we fly out?" Percy asked.
"I'll send all of you an itinerary later in the day."
Percy sat in the front row of Argus' van and yawned as they pulled through the gates of the concealed air base ten kilometers from campus. He'd been up until half-past two with Minerva bugging him and felt half dead because he'd perhaps tested a few of his prototype concoctions, and had to get up early to wash and dry a bundle of dirty laundry so that he had enough clothes for a two-week trip.
The hydraulic coach door hissed open and a security officer climbed aboard. A second-born of Ares. A legacy.
"Travel documents please."
Everyone had their documents collected by Chiron. Drew went into a panic until she found hers in an obscure pocket at the side of her backpack.
"I've got export licenses for weapons, explosives and drugs too," He explained, as he held out a stack of paperwork.
"Haven't seen you come through here in a while," the officer said, as he inspected each sheet before stamping them clumsily, with only a springy foam headrest to rest them on.
"You neither," Chiron smiled. "Zeus rarely approves flights of this scale."
"Ready to roll," the guard said, handing the papers back to Chiron before stepping up and giving Argus – who wasn't travelling on the exercise but had naturally volunteered to drive the coach – instructions on which taxiways to use to reach their plane.
It was rare for Camp to even get a flight at this age, Minerva had told him. Apparently, your ride could turn out to be anything from a tiny unpressurised military transport planes from Ares to one of the clapped-out airliners used to ferry troops to the Middle East.
Service was rumored to be basic, with rock hard seats, boil in the bag army rations and no entertainment. But Percy was delighted to step out into the crisp early afternoon sun and see that their ride bore the distinctive purple-gold of the Zeus' private airline fleet.
The VIP service extended to white-gloved air spirit stewards, who lined up to say good morning as everyone stepped off the coach. The crew hurriedly transferred bags and Athena Cabin's haul of special equipment from coach to plane.
"Sweet!" Percy gasped, as he reached the top of the steps and peered inside the plane.
It was a luxury variant of an Airbus used by regular airlines, but Zeus instead replaced a hundred and fifty cramped seats for giant leather chairs which reclined into flat beds.
The center of the plane had a lounge area with red leather chairs and carpet that was either cheeky or revolting depending upon your taste. The rear of the plane had a private suite, complete with a mini office, toilet and shower, and a full-width double bed. Connor charged in and the bed, but was promptly hauled out by the chief steward, who told him stiffly that it was off limits to anyone who didn't answer to Your Royal Highness or Mr. President.
"This plane looks brand new," Percy noted, as his leather armchair creaked. He was immediately handed a platter of freshly sliced fruit, a hot towel and a newspaper that looked like it had been ironed.
"It is new," a stewardess nodded. 'The aircraft isn't officially commissioned until the Sky Lord on a tour Down Under later in the month, but we're doing a few shakedown flights to make sure everything's working properly.'
"So we're getting the full royal treatment?" Percy smiled, as he pressed a button to electrically recline his seat.
"Upright until after takeoff," the stewardess warned. "Do take a look at the menu. We'll be serving a light lunch as soon as we're in level flight."
Luke jokingly tried to tug at the head steward's lapel. "I demand Beluga caviar and the finest wines available to man!" he shouted, before clapping his hands and shouting, "Chop chop."
The stewards didn't look impressed, but Percy thought it was pretty funny. He looked across the aisle to where Annabeth was sitting and was surprised to see that the plane was already taxiing towards the runway.
"Beats three hours in the Heathrow departure lounge," Silena commented.
The flight to Las Vegas would take nine and a half hours. Three hours in, Percy and the other teenagers had gravitated to the communal area in the center of the plane. Silena was expertly dealing cards and teaching everyone to play blackjack.
"How come you're so good at this?" Annabeth asked, as Silena flicked cards across a polished conference table.
"Aphrodite Cabin works on their poker faces, you know. Most I've won down in our casino is 550,000 worth crisp bills across 180 days."
"Half a million for six months," Percy whistled. "I'd wear fishnets for that."
"I thought you wore them anyway," Beckendorf grinned.
"Couldn't hack my siblings." Silena explained. "Dumbest decision I ever made. Luckily I was so hopeless they kicked me out before I lost."
The kids all laughed as Silena started a new hand, dealing each player two cards.
"Hit me," Travis said.
Annabeth groaned. "Connor, the dealer's showing a six, you have seventeen. You'll go over twenty-one and bust out."
"Hit," Travis repeated firmly.
Silena dealt Travis a four, giving him twenty-one and making it impossible for the dealer to beat him.
"Blackjack," Travis grinned, before poking his tongue out at Annabeth. "Fortuna smiles upon me."
"But it was still the wrong decision," Beckendorf explained. "The probability was that you'd get dealt a card higher than a four and then you'd bust."
"You're saying that because Silena's your girlfriend," Travis sneered.
"I'm saying it because it's based upon probability," Beckendorf said patiently. "You might get lucky once in a while but over the longer term the dealer will kick your butt and you'll lose all your money."
"If you're so smart, how come I've got more pennies than you?" Travis laughed.
Connor laughed with him. "Because I taught you how to count cards."
Chiron was trying to rest in one of the armchairs closest to the communal area and he sat up. "Hey," he yelled. "Boys, settle down."
"Sorry Chiron," Silena said.
She dealt everyone the cards until they busted or stuck, then revealed her own second card, and drew an extra one.
"Dealer stands on nineteen," Silena smiled, as she scooped up pennies from everyone except Travis and Clarisse before explaining more about the game as she dealt the next round of cards.
"The interesting thing about blackjack is that the casino's edge is very small. If you know how to learn the basic strategy you have a much better chance of winning than in almost any other casino game. That's why Connor here is winning so much"
"Travis, actually."
"Teach them then," Connor said eagerly.
Chiron had given up on trying to rest and sat up. "You can practice all you like, but you can't gamble in Vegas until you're twenty-one," he noted.
"The principle is quite simple, each card two through five that the dealer dishes out scores one; ten through ace scores minus one. The higher the count gets, the more the odds of winning."
"Isn't too hard," Connor said. "You're supposed to be a maths whiz, Annabeth"
Silena smiled. 'That'd be nice, but to make counting difficult the casinos use up to eight decks on each table and a pro blackjack dealer moves a lot faster than I do. If anyone starts winning heavily, they'll shuffle the cards or replace the decks, meaning you'll have to start your count again from scratch."
She also seemed to think about something.
"Also, if the casino bosses think you're counting, they'll strip-search you, photograph you and dump your ass on the sidewalk. Then they'll circulate your photo to every other casino in town and you won't get near a table unless you put on a disguise or something."
"So you've got to count all the cards in your head and not show any sign that you're doing it," Annabeth smiled. "An impossible task for ol' seaweed brain here"
"Your limited processing mayhaps be unable, Varlet, but I am able to track every individual card ever, and is currently dealt within the nation. This den of gambling poses no challenge to us."
"You never know until you've tried," Percy answered. "I'd have to learn more about exactly how it all works though. Chiron, is the Internet working on your new laptop?"
"For a small fee," Chiron grinned.
"I helped you build that thing!"
"Correction: I did."
Chiron laughed. "Fine," Chiron said, as he climbed out of his seat. "Just don't try fiddling with anything stupid. Malcom had set it up so that it destroys the entire hard drive if you enter the wrong password three times."
"Like I wouldn't know."
The kids all laughed.
"It's not funny," Chiron said, half-jokingly. "I've already wiped the damned thing twice. You have to send the whole caboodle back to them to have the software reinstalled, and the second time I did it some twelve year-old girl had the cheek to suggest that I might be a security risk because of my age."
"Well, you are getting on a bit," Travis pointed out tactlessly.
"Maybe I am, Travis," Chiron said, smiling and wagging his finger, "but being acting camp director, I still have high enough authority to change the report of your next fitness exam, so watch your cheek unless you fancy one of Ares Cabin's four-week intensive fitness programmes."
"Oh please, Chiron," Annabeth begged. "Make Travis suffer and you'll be my bestest friend for ever!"
"Get stuffed."
"He's shitting it now," Beckendorf said.
Chiron headed down the aisle as Percy settled on to his warm leather armchair and opened up a bronze laptop, Minerva's silver nanobots leaking from underneath his fingertips.
Request received: download Internet
Complied. Estimated time to completion: 41:12:01.201, at 982 Terabytes per millisecond
"Okay," Silena said, as she prepared to deal out another round of cards. "Gamblers place your bets. Maximum five pennies per hand."
The time shift meant they reached Vegas at two in the afternoon. Landing in a private jet with a Pegasus and lightning bolt on the side got the bevy of limo drivers and casino hosts who hang around McCarren Airport's private jet terminal seriously excited.
"Everyone, act like you're stinking rich," Silena smiled. "You'll be amazed where the slightest sniff of money can get you in this town."
The daughter of Aphrodite stopped walking and deliberately looked a little baffled. Within half a second she was approached by a beefy man with a dark tan who looked like he was dressed for golf.
"Welcome to Las Vegas," he beamed, with a chemically bleached smile.
"We haven't booked accommodation,' Silena explained, 'but I'm told Caesar's Palace is nice."
"Caesar's has a great tradition, but I'm Julio Sweet, VIP host at the Reef Casino Resort. I can offer you a limousine to take you right there and a top-floor suite with compliments from the management."
Silena smiled graciously and tried to sound surprised. "Complimentary?" she said. "Oh that's very decent of you, but I have so many siblings and our handlers to stay with."
"We have more than five thousand rooms," the bleached smile beamed. "I'm sure we'll fit you in."
Offering free hotel rooms to people who turned up on flash private jets was a calculated risk for many casinos: the costs of a few nights' accommodation, free limo rides and free food were insignificant compared to the hundreds of thousands, or even millions of dollars that a wealthy family might lose at the hotel's casino during their stay."
A female host from another casino circled enviously and pounced the instant Julio pulled out his phone to call for a limo.
"Can I offer you my card?" she asked. "Just call my number any time, day or night, at Casino Taipei and we'll compliment you a full dining package at any of our restaurants, treatments at the most luxurious spa in Las Vegas and of course any other special services we can arrange for you or the rest."
Percy whispered in Beckendorf's ear, "Do you reckon they'd set us up with hookers?"
Beckendorf laughed, so Annabeth thumped him. "Don't laugh," she hissed. "Percy is wild enough without you encouraging him."
The man from the Reef was scowling at his rival host, while frantically tapping instructions into his PDA and trying to herd Silena and the rest of the party towards an exit.
"We'll have two limousines here for your party within five minutes and a minivan to collect your luggage."
"Oh, you're so kind," Silena smiled, keeping up the pretense that it was all a big surprise.
"That's a very beautiful airplane you came in on," the host said. 'If you don't mind my asking, which family did it come from?"
"Her Majesty is a distant cousin," Chiron lied, making a Scottish accent sound as posh as possible while struggling to keep a straight face. "She regularly uses our skiing lodge in the Swiss Alps, and when we decided to make a last-minute trip she kindly let us use one from her fleet."
"Faaaaantastic," Julio Sweet beamed. "You're so lucky to know the Queen. We have billionaires and film stars coming through this terminal to play in Las Vegas, but I don't believe we've ever had royal guests before."
Chiron saw the funny side of pulling such a blatant con, but he couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed. "I'm a very distant cousin," he emphasized. "And it's something we prefer not to flaunt."
The complimentary suites were on top of the thirty-five floor Reef Casino Resort, overlooking the southern end of the Vegas Strip. Chiron and Mr. D had been given a huge three-bedroom suite with floor to ceiling marble, while the kids were split between three smaller but no less luxurious suites down the hall.
Percy ended up sharing a suite with Travis and Connor, but with two bedrooms, each containing two king-sized beds, two massive bathrooms and a lounge with an eighty-inch plasma screen, this was no great hardship.
It was five in the afternoon by the time everyone had freshened up and changed clothes. The three demigods went all out on room service and had a massive battle with M from the mini-bar.
Percy was jet-lagged and woke at half-five the next morning. He took a solo stroll around the casino. Vegas had been crammed a few weeks earlier, but was now mostly home to hardcore gamblers who'd yet to go to bed and cleaning staff buffing tiles with giant polishing machines.
Percy wasn't allowed to gamble, but as a hotel guest he was allowed on the casino floor so long as he didn't linger in front of a table or slot machine. He'd expected to find men in bow ties sitting at roulette tables like in a James Bond movie, but the reality was a vast airless space filled with several thousand bleeping slot machines. The cocktail waitresses flitting between the rows of machines were supposed to look sexy, but a night walking the casino's floors in high heels meant their smiles were fake and their overdone make-up was melting under the bright lights.
Beyond the casino floor was an indoor strip of more than a dozen restaurants and an upscale shopping mall with a sign out front boasting 'Four million square feet of retail paradise!' But the only places open at six on a Tuesday morning were the twenty-four-hour buffet and a hotel gift shop.
Percy wandered into the gift shop for no particular reason and spent a couple of minutes studying the racks of tacky Vegas paperweights, snowstorm models of the Vegas Strip and plastic Elvis Presley statues that sang Viva Las Vegas when you reached around the back and pressed a button. The clerk had heard Elvis a million times and looked up from her copy of People magazine, defying Percy to press the button again.
At the back of the store there was a rack of books. It was mostly souvenir guides and fold-out tourist maps, but there was half a shelf dedicated to books on gambling. Percy' eye was drawn to a slim volume called The Ultimate Blackjack Manual.
"You do not necessitate this manual, Varlet. If you wish, I shall teach."
Travis and Connor had been indoctrinated by the hotel's promotional TV channel and wanted to go to the Reef's amusement arcade and aquarium, so Chiron took them while Percy and the rest of the older kids headed out to see the sights. Almost everything in Las Vegas is on Las Vegas Boulevard, which everyone calls the Strip.
The Reef was at the southern end and after a big room-service breakfast the eight older cherubs spent most of the day cruising north. The Nevada desert is one of the hottest places on earth, but January is wintertime and the kids were comfortable walking in sweatshirts and jeans.
A six-kilometer journey along walkways, escalators and travelators took them through massive casinos complete with pyramids, fake Eiffel towers, Venetian canals and roadside shows including spectacular fountains and a cheesy medieval battle.
All the kids had money from Christmas and things are quite a bit cheaper in Vegas so they cruised several giant malls. Percy bought some cargo shorts and a polo shirt in Abercrombie and Fitch, but he had less to spend than the others.
They tried a couple of paid attractions, but after a crappy 3D Pharaoh ride and an embarrassingly bad indoor roller coaster they gave up and concentrated on shopping and sights. By the time they reached the northernmost part of the Strip they all had aching legs, so Annabeth found the location of the nearest multiplex and they squeezed into one of the limos that wait outside every casino and went to see a film that hadn't reached the CHB theater DVDs yet.
It was gone 8pm when they got back to the VIP suites at the Reef and Julio the host had arranged for them to have their evening meal on the rooftop terrace outside the adults' suite.
After the aquarium Chiron had taken the two younger boys on a tour and had lunch with some friends she'd made in the area during her short stint as a casino host. The kids had to keep up the pretense of being rich children, but Dionysius spent a large part of the day in the casino and returned sloshed with a forty-something looking spirit at his waist.
"I lost seven Gs at the baccarat," Mr. D grinned. "But I bagged a beautiful lady as compensation."
Nobody knew exactly how rich a god was, and nobody really cared to find out.
The kids were in a good mood and mucked around noisily as they ate dinner, but The wine god and Chiron had both had a few drinks and didn't particularly care. They were starting dessert when a figure stumbled in, accompanied by genial casino host Julio Sweet and a burly casino security guard. The person's face was berry red and his shirt had a horrible grey stain where he'd toppled an overstuffed ashtray.
"Hello, hello, Milord," Chiron smiled.
"There was an altercation downstairs in the casino," the security guard said rigidly. Percy noticed that he had dark glasses and an earpiece like FBI guys always do in the movies. "We've asked this gentleman not to return to the casino floor for the remainder of his stay. He said that he knew your group."
"Impossible!" The sandy haired individual growled. "I was up four thousand dollars. I bet on black six times and six times it comes up red. I swear the game was rigged!"
Analysis: Divine Energy, Cloaked. Hermes.
Conjecture: recognition avoidance from demigods. Mist presence too weak to cloak from more powerful beings.
The dude was a large man who probably could have taken out the security guard and half the room with it if he'd wanted to, so a tense silence settled over the long dining table, until Mr. D suddenly banged his fist on the table and roared with laughter.
"You should have listened to Chiron," Dionysius grinned. "Roulette's a mug's game."
"Six bastard times," he said. "I was up four thousand. Five minutes later I'm down three thousand. Boom!"
"That's gambling for you," Chiron said. "I'm pretty upset too. I lost eight bucks playing the five-cent slot machines."
The party god stumbled over the terrace and pulled five hundred-dollar chips out of his blazer pocket. "Enough to drown your sorrows with," he said, before pulling a bewildered Hermes into a hug. "Pull up a chair, have some dinner and forget all about it."
Julio snatched Mr. D's chips and hastily changed them up for five one-hundred-dollar bills so that Hermes wasn't tempted to head back down to the tables.
"Get me a steak. " Hermes said.
The casino host's job is to make their clients gamble as much as possible, and it was a mark of Julio's skill that he'd successfully persuaded Hermes and Mr. D to lose ten thousand dollars when they'd arrived intending to gamble less than a tenth of that amount.
Julio followed Hermes back to the dining table and tucked him back in at his place. "Perhaps after dessert I can take you back to the VIP tables? You mentioned your taste for Scottish single malt whisky and we have a really spectacular selection behind the bar, including a fifty-year-old Springbank. I believe there are less than one hundred bottles still in existence."
Julio was desperate to get Mr. D back to a baccarat table. In a few minutes, the camp director was off ready to tempt fortuna's favor again.
Chiron checked over her shoulder to make sure that the departing group were all well out of earshot. "Dionysius is a big boy," he smiled. 'I'll let him have his fun, but I'll go down and fish him out of the casino if it looks like Julio's getting the better of him.'
Percy headed back to his room after dinner, but Travis and Connor were charging around like lunatics. They flicked each other with towels and had the TV in the lounge turned up way too loud. Percy yelled at them to pack it in, but they ignored him and he eventually sought refuge in the girls' room across the hall.
Annabeth opened the door, dressed in a hotel robe and slippers.
"What are you up to?" Percy asked.
"Nothing you would understand," Annabeth explained, as Percy stepped into the plush suite.
Percy looked around and couldn't see anyone else. "Where've they all gone?"
"The girls went downstairs to the arcade and Clarisse had a headache and went to bed early."
"How's she doing?" Percy asked, as he followed her back to the sofa.
"Loud. "
"Right."
"Oh right, I've got a few more design ideas to check out for you Annabeth, here, take a look."
He handed her some rolled up paper.
She accepted the blueprints graciously
"You still haven't told me where this genius is coming from, it's certainly not you."
"The source is closer than you think."
After two days of private planes and luxury suites came the harsh reality of a 5:30am checkout and a four-hour drive to the 'Area Fulminus' training compound in one of the remotest areas of the Nevada Desert.
Their ride was a shabby green bus, with UNITED STATES ARMY stenciled along each side. The driver was a heavy-set black man, who saluted Mr. D before issuing everyone with hospital style identity bracelets that included a microchip and a tiny photograph. Once fixed on, the plastic bands could only be removed with scissors.
The bus was large and everyone was still sleepy, so the demigods spread out and kept quiet as they cruised through the Vegas suburbs and into the open desert as the sun broke the horizon.
Percy ended up near the back of the bus with a rather sorry-looking Hermes sitting opposite. He kept coughing, so Percy passed over the bottle of mineral water from his day pack.
"Thank you, young one." He said, keeping his voice down because Luke was dozing in the row of seats in front. "So what did you make of Vegas?"
"Very cool,' Percy said. 'I'm definitely going back when I'm older. How did it go at the tables after dinner?'
"Not well, apparently not for Brother either."
"And his lady friend?"
"She left him and joined me later. She was totally in cahoots with Julio," Hermes said. "I was staggering back to my room just after one this morning and she says: 'Julio says you ain't gambled enough for a freebie, so it's six hundred dollars if you want to sleep with me'."
Percy laughed loud enough to make the son of Hemes open one eye. "Did you pay her?" he gasped.
"What kind of person do you think I am?" Hermes said incredulously. "I told her I'd rather have a nice cup of tea and sent her packing."
"Varlet."
"Yes?"
"He is lying."
"I know."