"Hold it, Percy," Jake Mason said. "You forgot the Lincoln Tunnel."

 

I bit back a curse. He was right. A Sherman ta nk and a hundred monsters were

marching through that tunnel right now, and I'd positioned our forces everywhere

else.

 

Then a girl's voice called from across the street: "How about you leave that to

us?"

 

I'd never been happier to hear anyone in my life. A band of thirty adolescent

girls crossed Fifth Avenue. They wore white shirts, silvery camouflage pants,

and combat boots. They all had swords at their sides, quivers on their backs,

and bows at the ready. A pack of white timber wolves milled around their feet,

and many of the girls had hunting falcons on their arms.

 

The girl in the lead had spiky black hair and a black leather jacket. She wore a

silver circlet on her head like a princess's tiara, which didn't match her skull

earrings or her Death to Barbie T-shirt showing a little Barbie doll with an

arrow through its head.

 

"Thalia!" Annabeth cried.

 

The daughter of Zeus grinned. "The Hunters of Artemis, reporting for duty."