The Titan's Curse

Hunters. Her dark hair was braided like Zoë’s now, so you could actually see her face. She had a splash of freckles across her nose, and her dark eyes vaguely reminded me of someone famous, but I couldn’t think who. She looked like she’d been working out, and her skin glowed faintly, like the other Hunters, as if she’d been taking showers in liquid moonlight. “You heard the prophecy. Five shall go west to the goddess in chains. We can get five hunters and go.”
    “Yes,” Zoë agreed. “Artemis is being held hostage! We must find her and free her.”
    “You’re missing something, as usual,” Thalia said. “ Campers and Hunters combined prevail. We’re supposed to do this together.”
    “No!” Zoë said. “The Hunters do not need thy help.”
    “Your,” Thalia grumbled. “Nobody has said thy in, like, three hundred years, Zoë. Get with the times.”
    Zoë hesitated, like she was trying to form the word correctly. “ Yerrr . We do not need yerrr help.”
    Thalia rolled her eyes. “Forget it.”
    “I fear the prophecy says you do need our help,” Chiron said. “Campers and Hunters must cooperate.”
    “Or do they?” Mr. D mused, swirling his Diet Coke under his nose like it had a fine bouquet. “ One shall be lost. One shall perish. That sounds rather nasty, doesn’t it? What if you fail because you try to cooperate?”
    “Mr. D,” Chiron sighed, “with all due respect, whose side are you on?”
    Dionysus raised his eyebrows. “Sorry, my dear centaur. Just trying to be helpful.”
    “We’re supposed to work together,” Thalia said stubbornly. “I don’t like it either, Zoë, but you know prophecies. You want to fight against one?”
    Zoë grimaced, but I could tell Thalia had scored a point.
    “We must not delay,” Chiron warned. “Today is Sunday. This very Friday, December twenty-first, is the winter solstice.”
    “Oh, joy,” Dionysus muttered. “Another dull annual meeting.”
    “Artemis must be present at the solstice,” Zoë said. “She has been one of the most vocal on the council arguing for action against Kronos’s minions. If she is absent, the gods will decide nothing. We will lose another year of war preparations.”
    “Are you suggesting that the gods have trouble acting together, young lady?” Dionysus asked.
    “Yes, Lord Dionysus.”
    Mr. D nodded. “Just checking. You’re right, of course. Carry on.”
    “I must agree with Zoë,” said Chiron. “Artemis’s presence at the winter council is critical. We have only a week to find her. And possibly even more important: to locate the monster she was hunting. Now, we must decide who goes on this quest.”
    “Three and two,” I said.
    Everybody looked at me. Thalia even forgot to ignore me.
    “We’re supposed to have five,” I said, feeling self-conscious. “Three Hunters, two from Camp Half-Blood. That’s more than fair.”
    Thalia and Zoë exchanged looks.
    “Well,” Thalia said. “It does make sense.”
    Zoë grunted. “I would prefer to take all the Hunters. We will need strength of numbers.”
    “You’ll be retracing the goddess’s path,” Chiron reminded her. “Moving quickly. No doubt Artemis tracked the scent of this rare monster, whatever it is, as she moved west. You will have to do the same. The prophecy was clear: The bane of Olympus shows the trail. What would your mistress say? ‘Too many Hunters spoil the scent.’ A small group is best.”
    Zoë picked up a Ping-Pong paddle and studied it like she was deciding who she wanted to whack first. “This monster—the bane of Olympus. I have hunted at Lady Artemis’s side for many years, yet I have no idea what this beast might be.”
    Everybody looked at Dionysus, I guess because he was the only god present and gods are supposed to know things. He was flipping through a wine magazine, but when everyone got silent he glanced up. “Well, don’t look at me. I’m a young god, remember? I don’t keep track of all those ancient monsters and dusty titans. They make for terrible party conversation.”
    “Chiron,” I said, “you don’t have any ideas about the monster?”
    Chiron pursed his lips. “I have several ideas, none of them good. And none of them quite make sense. Typhon, for instance, could fit this description. He was truly a bane of Olympus. Or the sea monster Keto. But if either of these were stirring, we would know it. They are ocean monsters the size of skyscrapers. Your father, Poseidon, would already