monster. The squid descended on the palace and swatted its tentacles, smashing a

whole column of warriors. Then a brilliant arc of blue light shot from the

rooftop of one of the tallest buildings. The light hit the giant squid, and the

monster dissolved like food coloring in water.

 

"Daddy," Tyson said, pointing to where the light had come from.

 

"He did that?" I suddenly felt more hopeful. My dad had unbelievable powers. He

was the god of the sea. He could deal with this attack, right? Maybe he'd let me

help.

 

"Have you been in the fight?" I asked Tyson in awe. "Like bashing heads with

your awesome Cyclops strength and stuff?"

 

Tyson pouted, and immediately I knew I'd asked a bad question, "I have been . .

. fixing weapons," he mumbled. "Come. Let's go find Daddy."

 

I know this might sound weird to people with, like, regular parents, but I'd

only seen my dad four or five times in my life, and never for more than a few

minutes. The Greek gods don't exactly show up for their kids' basketball games.

Still, I thought I would recognize Poseidon on sight.

 

I was wrong.

 

The roof of the temple was a big open deck that had been set up as a command