The Titan's Curse

a gift from Poseidon.
    I looked into the water and said, “Thanks, Dad.”
    The surface rippled. At the bottom of the pool, coins shimmered—a dozen or so golden drachma. I realized what the fountain was for. It was a reminder to keep in touch with my family.
    I opened the nearest window, and the wintry sunlight made a rainbow in the mist. Then I fished a coin out of the hot water.
    “Iris, O Goddess of the Rainbow,” I said, “accept my offering.”
    I tossed a coin into the mist and it disappeared. Then I realized I didn’t know who to contact first.
    My mom? That would’ve been the “good son” thing to do, but she wouldn’t be worried about me yet. She was used to me disappearing for days or weeks at a time.
    My father? It had been way too long, almost two years, since I’d actually talked to him. But could you even send an Iris-message to a god? I’d never tried. Would it make them mad, like a sales call or something?
    I hesitated. Then I made up my mind.
    “Show me Tyson,” I requested. “At the forges of the Cyclopes.”
    The mist shimmered, and the image of my half brother appeared. He was surrounded in fire, which would’ve been a problem if he weren’t a Cyclops. He was bent over an anvil, hammering a red-hot sword blade. Sparks flew and flames swirled around his body. There was a marble-framed window behind him, and it looked out onto dark blue water— the bottom of the ocean.
    “Tyson!” I yelled.
    He didn’t hear me at first because of the hammering and the roar of the flames.
    “TYSON!”
    He turned, and his one enormous eye widened. His face broke into a crooked yellow grin. “Percy!”
    He dropped the sword blade and ran at me, trying to give me a hug. The vision blurred and I instinctively lurched back. “Tyson, it’s an Iris-message. I’m not really here.”
    “Oh.” He came back into view, looking embarrassed. “Oh, I knew that. Yes.”
    “How are you?” I asked. “How’s the job?”
    His eye lit up. “Love the job! Look!” He picked up the hot sword blade with his bare hands. “I made this!”
    “That’s really cool.”
    “I wrote my name on it. Right there.”
    “Awesome. Listen, do you talk to Dad much?”
    Tyson’s smile faded. “Not much. Daddy is busy. He is worried about the war.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Tyson sighed. He stuck the sword blade out the window, where it made a cloud of boiling bubbles. When Tyson brought it back in, the metal was cool. “Old sea spirits making trouble. Aigaios. Oceanus. Those guys.”
    I sort of knew what he was talking about. He meant the immortals who ruled the oceans back in the days of the Titans. Before the Olympians took over. The fact that they were back now, with the Titan Lord Kronos and his allies gaining strength, was not good.
    “Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
    Tyson shook his head sadly. “We are arming the mermaids. They need a thousand more swords by tomorrow.” He looked at his sword blade and sighed. “Old spirits are protecting the bad boat.”
    “The Princess Andromeda ?” I said. “Luke’s boat?”
    “Yes. They make it hard to find. Protect it from Daddy’s storms. Otherwise he would smash it.”
    “Smashing it would be good.”
    Tyson perked up, as if he’d just had another thought. “Annabeth! Is she there?”
    “Oh, well . . .” My heart felt like a bowling ball. Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter (and he seriously loved peanut butter). I didn’t have the heart to tell him she was missing. He’d start crying so bad he’d probably put out his fires. “Well, no . . . she’s not here right now.”
    “Tell her hello!” He beamed. “Hello to Annabeth!”
    “Okay.” I fought back a lump in my throat. “I’ll do that.”
    “And, Percy, don’t worry about the bad boat. It is going away.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Panama Canal! Very far away.”
    I frowned. Why would Luke take his demon-infested cruise ship all the way down there? The last time we’d seen him, he’d been cruising along the East Coast, recruiting half-bloods and training his monstrous army.
    “All right,” I said, not feeling reassured. “That’s . . . good. I guess.”
    In the forges, a deep voice bellowed something I couldn’t make out. Tyson flinched. “Got to get back to work! Boss will get mad. Good luck, Brother!”
    “Ok, tell Dad—”
    But before I could finish, the vision shimmered and faded. I was alone again in my cabin, feeling