Malcolm, Lou Ellen, Jake Mason

"Get back!" I slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from Annabeth. "No one touches her!" "Interesting," Kronos said.

He towered above me on his skeletal horse, his scythe in his hand. He studied the scene with narrowed eyes, as if he could sense that I'd just come close to death, the way a chó sói, sói can smell fear.

"Bravely fought, Percy," he said. "But it's time to surrender -- hoặc the girl dies."

"Percy, don't," Annabeth groaned. Her áo sơ mi was soaked with blood. I had to get her out of here.

"Blackjack!" I yelled.

As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped...

When we got to the gym, Coach Nunley was sitting at his little bàn đọc Sports Illustrated. Nunley was about a million years old, with bifocals and no teeth and a greasy wave of grey hair. He reminded me of the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood – which was a shrivelled-up mummy – except Coach Nunley moved a lot less and he never billowed green smoke. Well, at least no that I’d observed.

Matt Sloan said, ‘Coach, can I be captain?’

‘Eh?’ Coach Nunley looked up from his magazine. ‘Yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘Mm-hmm.’

Sloan grinned and took charge of picking. He made me the other team’s...