said when I turned sixteen, bad things would happen.

 

"Percy," she said, "I know the timing is bad. But it's always bad for you,

right?"

 

She had a point.

 

"I really want to go," 1 promised. "It's just — "

 

"The war.”

 

I nodded. I didn't like talking about it, but Rachel knew. Unlike most mortals,

she could see through the Mist — the magic veil that distorts human vision.

She'd seen monsters. She'd met some of the other demigods who were fighting the

Titans and their allies. She'd even been there last su mm er when the chopped-up

Lord Kronos rose out of his coffin in a terrible new form, and she'd earned my

permanent respect by nailing him in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush.

 

She put her hand on my arm. "Just think about it, okay? We don't leave for a

couple of days. My dad .

 

. ." Her voice faltered.

 

"Is he giving you a hard time?" I asked.