The Son of Neptune

Hazel stepped closer to him. “They keep doing that. Why are they yelling your name?”

 

 

“Never mind,” Frank said. “Listen, we’ve got to protect Ella, take her with us.”

 

“Of course,” Hazel said. “The poor thing needs our help.”

 

“No,” Frank said. “I mean yes, but it’s not just that. She recited a prophecy downstairs. I think…I think it was about this quest.”

 

He didn’t want to tell Percy the bad news, about a son of Neptune drowning, but he repeated the lines.

 

Percy’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know how a son of Neptune can drown. I can breathe underwater. But the crown of the legion—”

 

“That’s got to be the eagle,” Hazel said.

 

Percy nodded. “And Ella recited something like this once before, in Portland—a line from the old Great Prophecy.”

 

“The what?” Frank asked.

 

“Tell you later.” Percy turned his garden hose and shot another cannonball out of the sky.

 

It exploded in an orange fireball. The ogres clapped with appreciation and yelled, “Pretty! Pretty!”

 

“The thing is,” Frank said, “Ella remembers everything she reads. She said something about the page being burned, like she’d read a damaged text of prophecies.”

 

Hazel’s eyes widened. “Burned books of prophecy? You don’t think—but that’s impossible!”

 

“The books Octavian wanted, back at camp?” Percy guessed.

 

Hazel whistled under her breath. “The lost Sibylline books that outlined the entire destiny of Rome. If Ella actually read a copy somehow, and memorized it—”

 

“Then she’s the most valuable harpy in the world,” Frank said. “No wonder Phineas wanted to capture her.”

 

“Frank Zhang!” an ogre shouted from below. He was bigger than the rest, wearing a lion’s cape like a Roman standard bearer and a plastic bib with a lobster on it. “Come down, son of Mars! We’ve been waiting for you. Come, be our honored guest!”

 

Hazel gripped Frank’s arm. “Why do I get the feeling that ‘honored guest’ means the same thing as ‘dinner’?”

 

Frank wished Mars were still there. He could use somebody to snap his fingers and make his battle jitters go away.

 

Hazel believes in me, he thought. I can do this.

 

He looked at Percy. “Can you drive?”

 

“Sure. Why?”

 

“Grandmother’s car is in the garage. It’s an old Cadillac. The thing is like a tank. If you can get it started—”

 

“We’ll still have to break through a line of ogres,” Hazel said.

 

“The sprinkler system,” Percy said. “Use it as a distraction?”

 

“Exactly,” Frank said. “I’ll buy you as much time as I can. Get Ella, and get in the car. I’ll try to meet you in the garage, but don’t wait for me.”

 

Percy frowned. “Frank—”

 

“Give us your answer, Frank Zhang!” the ogre yelled up. “Come down, and we will spare the others—your friends, your poor old granny. We only want you!”

 

“They’re lying,” Percy muttered.

 

“Yeah, I got that,” Frank agreed. “Go!”

 

His friends ran for the ladder.

 

Frank tried to control the beating of his heart. He grinned and yelled, “Hey, down there! Who’s hungry?” The ogres cheered as Frank paced along the widow’s walk and waved like a rock star.

 

Frank tried to summon his family power. He imagined himself as a fire-breathing dragon. He strained and clenched his fist and thought about dragons so hard, beads of sweat popped up on his forehead. He wanted to sweep down on the enemy and destroy them. That would be extremely cool. But nothing happened. He had no clue how to change himself. He had never even seen a real dragon. For a panicky moment, he wondered if Grandmother had played some sort of cruel joke on him. Maybe he’d misunderstood the gift. Maybe Frank was the only member of the family who hadn’t inherited it. That would be just his luck.

 

The ogres started to become restless. The cheering turned to catcalls. A few Laistrygonians hefted their cannonballs.

 

“Hold on!” Frank yelled. “You don’t want to char me, do you? I won’t taste very good that way.”

 

“Come down!” they yelled. “Hungry!”

 

Time for Plan B. Frank just wished he had one.

 

“Do you promise to spare my friends?” Frank asked. “Do you swear on the River Styx?”

 

The ogres laughed. One threw a cannonball that arced over Frank’s head and blew up the chimney. By some miracle, Frank wasn’t hit with shrapnel.

 

“I’ll take that as a no,” he muttered. Then he shouted down:

 

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