“Anything?”
“Within reason,” Grandmother said. “Living things. It helps if you know the creature well. It also helps if you are in a life-and-death situation, such as combat. Why do you look so surprised, Fai? You have always said you are not comfort able in your own body. We all feel that way—all of us with the blood of Pylos. This gift was only given once to a mortal family. We are unique among demigods. Poseidon must have been feeling especially generous when he blessed our ancestor—or especially spiteful. The gift has often proven a curse. It did not save your mother.…”
Outside, a cheer went up from the ogres. Someone shouted, “Zhang! Zhang!”
“You must go, silly boy,” Grandmother said. “Our time is up.”
“But—I don’t know how to use my power. I’ve never—I can’t—”
“You can,” Grandmother said. “Or you will not survive to realize your destiny. I don’t like this Prophecy of Seven that Mars told me about. Seven is an unlucky number in Chinese—a ghost number. But there is nothing we can do about that. Now, go! Tomorrow evening is the Feast of Fortuna. You have no time to waste. Don’t worry about me. I will die in my own time, in my own way. I have no intention of being devoured by those ridiculous ogres. Go!”
Frank turned at the door. He felt like his heart was being squeezed through a juicer, but he bowed formally. “Thank you, Grandmother,” he said. “I will make you proud.”
She muttered something under her breath. Frank almost thought she had said, You have.
He stared at her, dumbfounded, but her expression immediately soured. “Stop gaping, boy! Go shower and dress!Comb your hair! My last image of you, and you show me messy hair?”
He patted down his hair and bowed again.
His last image of Grandmother was of her glaring out the window, as if thinking about the terrible scolding she would give the ogres when they invaded her home.
FRANK TOOK THE QUICKEST POSSIBLE SHOWER, put on the clothes Hazel had set out—an olive-green shirt with beige cargo pants, really?—then grabbed his spare bow and quiver and bounded up the attic stairs.
The attic was full of weapons. His family had collected enough ancient armaments to supply an army. Shields, spears, and quivers of arrows hung along one wall—almost as many as in the Camp Jupiter armory. At the back window, a scorpion crossbow was mounted and loaded, ready for action. At the front window stood something that looked like a machine gun with a cluster of barrels.
“Rocket launcher?” he wondered aloud.
“Nope, nope,” said a voice from the corner. “Potatoes. Ella doesn’t like potatoes.”
The harpy had made a nest for herself between two old steamer trunks. She was sitting in a pile of Chinese scrolls, reading seven or eight at once.
“Ella,” Frank said, “where are the others?”
“Roof.” She glanced upward, then returned to her reading, alternately picking at her feathers and turning pages. “Roof. Ogre-watching. Ella doesn’t like ogres. Potatoes.”
“Potatoes?” Frank didn’t understand until he swiveled the machine gun around. Its eight barrels were loaded with spuds. At the base of the gun, a basket was filled with more edible ammunition.
He looked out the window—the same window his mom had watched him from when he had met the bear. Down in the yard, the ogres were milling around, shoving each other, occasionally yelling at the house, and throwing bronze cannonballs that exploded in midair.
“They have cannonballs,” Frank said. “And we have a potato gun.”
“Starch,” Ella said thoughtfully. “Starch is bad for ogres.”
The house shook from another explosion. Frank needed to reach the roof and see how Percy and Hazel were doing, but he felt bad leaving Ella alone.
He knelt next to her, careful not to get too close. “Ella, it’s not safe here with the ogres. We’re going to be flying to Alaska soon. Will you come with us?”
Ella twitched uncomfortably. “Alaska. Six hundred twenty-six thousand, four hundred twenty-five square miles.
State mammal: the moose.”
Suddenly she switched to Latin, which Frank could just barely follow thanks to his classes at Camp Jupiter:
“To the north, beyond the gods, lies the legion’s crown. Falling from ice, the son of Neptune shall drown—” She stopped and scratched her disheveled red hair. “Hmm. Burned. The rest is burned.”
Frank could hardly breathe. “Ella, was…was that a prophecy? Where did you read that?”
“Moose,” Ella said, savoring the word. “Moose. Moose. Moose.”
The house shook again. Dust rained down from the rafters. Outside, an ogre bellowed, “Frank Zhang! Show yourself!”
“Nope,” Ella said. “Frank shouldn’t. Nope.”
“Just…stay here, okay?” Frank said. “I’ve got to go help Hazel and Percy.”