My Dear, I'm A Cat. Everything I

The Other Thing That Troubled Me: Dad Was Clutching His Workbag. Usually When He Does That, It Means We're In Danger. Like The Time Gunmen Stormed Into Our Hotel In Cairo. I Heard Shots Coming From The Lobby And Ran Downstairs To Check On My Dad. By The Time I Got There, He Was Just Calmly Zipping Up His Workbag While Three Unconscious Gunmen Hung By Their Feet From The Chandelier, Their Robes Falling Over Their Heads So You Could See Their Boxer Shorts. Dad Claimed Not To Have Witnessed Anything, And In The End The Police Blamed A Freak Chandelier Malfunction.

Her Secret Fear? Maybe She Didn't Tried Hard Enough.

Which Meant His Only Assets Were One Whiny Imprisoned Goddess, One Sort-of-girlfriend With A Dagger, And Leo, Who Apparently Thought He Could Defeat The Armies Of Darkness With Breath Mints.

Even His Hair Was Bigger—a Massive Globe Of Blue-black Frizz So Thick That His Lobster-claw Horns Appeared To Be Drowning As They Tried To Swim Their Way To The Surface. “is That Why They Named You Aphros?” Leo Asked As They Glided Down The Path From The Cave. “because Of The Afro?” Aphros Scowled. “what Do You Mean?” “nothing,” Leo Said Quickly.

Annabeth’s Shoulders Ached. The Elevator’s Easy-listening Music Didn’t Help. If All Monsters Had To Hear That Song About Liking Piña Coladas And Getting Caught In The Rain, No Wonder They Were In The Mood For Carnage When They Reached The Mortal World.