We were in the backwoods of New Jersey, on a crumbling road lined with run-down

businesses and tattered billboard signs. A trampled fence ringed a big yard full

of cement statuary. The sign above the warehouse was hard to read because it was

in red cursive, but I knew what it said: AUNTY EM'S

 

GARDEN GNOME EMPORIUM.

 

I hadn't thought about the place in years. It was clearly abandoned. The statues

were broken and spray-painted with graffiti. A cement satyr — Grover's Uncle

Ferdinand — had lost his arm. Part of the warehouse roof had caved in. A big

yellow sign pasted on the door read: CONDEMNED.

 

Hundreds of tents and fires surrounded the property. Mostly I saw monsters, but

there were some human mercenaries in combat fatigues and demigods in armor, too.

A purple-and-black banner hung outside the emporium, guarded by two huge blue

Hyperboreans.

 

Ethan was crouched at the nearest campfire. A couple of other demigods sat with

him, sharpening their swords. The doors of the warehouse opened, and Prometheus

stepped out.

 

"Nakamura," he called. "The master would like to speak to you."

 

Ethan stood up warily. "Something wrong?"