"Beckendorf?" 1 asked hopefully.

 

"No, brother."

 

My eyes refocused. 1 was looking at a Cyclops — a misshapen face, ratty brown

hair, one big brown eye full of concern. "Tyson?"

 

My brother broke into a toothy grin. "Yay! Your brain works!" 1 wasn't so sure.

My body felt weightless and cold. My voice sounded wrong. 1 could hear Tyson,

but it was more like I was hearing vibrations inside my skull, not the regular

sounds. 1 sat up, and a gossamer sheet floated away. 1 was on a bed made of

silky woven kelp, in a room paneled with abalone shell. Glowing pearls the size

of basketballs floated around the ceiling, providing light. 1 was under water.

 

Now, being the son of Poseidon and all, 1 was okay with this. 1 can breathe

underwater just fine, and my clothes don't even get wet unless I want them to.

But it was still a bit of a shock when a hammerhead shark drifted through the

bedroom window, regarded me, and then swam calmly out the opposite side of the

room.

 

"Where—"

 

"Daddy's palace," Tyson said.

 

Under different circumstances, 1 would've been excited. I'd never visited