"Percy," Rachel muttered, as if she knew I was listening, "what is going on?"

 

The dream faded, and the last thing I remember was wishing I could answer her

question.

 

The next morning, I wanted to call her, but there were no phones at camp.

Dionysus and Chiron didn't need a landline. They just called Olympus with an

Iris-message whenever they needed something. And when demigods use cell phones,

the signals agitate every monster within a hundred miles. It's like sending up a

flare: Here I am! Please rearrange my face! Even within the safe borders of

camp, that's not the kind of advertising we wanted to do.

 

Most demigods (except for Annabeth and a few others) don't even own cell phones.

And I definitely couldn't tell Annabeth, "Hey, let me borrow your phone so I can

call Rachel!" To make the call, I would've had to leave camp and walk several

miles to the nearest convenience store. Even if Chiron let me go, by the time I

got there, Rachel would've been on the plane to St. Thomas.

 

I ate a depressing breakfast by myself at the Poseidon table. I kept staring at

the fissure in the marble floor where two years ago Nico had banished a bunch of

bloodthirsty skeletons to the Underworld. The memory didn't exactly improve my

appetite.

 

After breakfast, Annabeth and I walked down to inspect the cabins. Actually, it