The Titan's Curse

with red highlighted hair tied in a bun.
    “Who are our guests?” she asked.
    “Oh,” Dr. Chase said. “This is . . .”
    He stared at us blankly.
    “Frederick,” she chided. “You forgot to ask them their names?”
    We introduced ourselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seemed really nice. She asked if we were hungry. We admitted we were, and she told us she’d bring us some cookies and sandwiches and sodas.
    “Dear,” Dr. Chase said. “They came about Annabeth.”
    I half expected Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just pursed her lips and looked concerned. “All right. Go on up to the study and I’ll bring you some food.” She smiled at me. “Nice meeting you, Percy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
    Upstairs, we walked into Dr. Chase’s study and I said, “Whoa!”
    The room was wall-to-wall books, but what really caught my attention were the war toys. There was a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hung on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.
    Dr. Chase smiled. “Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I’m writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they’ve been given credit for.”
    He plucked a biplane from its string and swept it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocked down little German soldiers.
    “Oh, right,” I said. I knew Annabeth’s dad was a professor of military history. She’d never mentioned he played with toy soldiers.
    Zoë came over and studied the battlefield. “The German lines were farther from the river.”
    Dr. Chase stared at her. “How do you know that?”
    “I was there,” she said matter-of-factly. “Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste.”
    Dr. Chase opened his mouth in shock. “You—”
    “She’s a Hunter, sir,” Thalia said. “But that’s not why we’re here. We need—”
    “You saw the Sopwith Camels?” Dr. Chase said. “How many were there? What formations did they fly?”
    “Sir,” Thalia broke in again. “Annabeth is in danger.”
    That got his attention. He set the biplane down.
    “Of course,” he said. “Tell me everything.”
    It wasn’t easy, but we tried. Meanwhile, the afternoon light was fading outside. We were running out of time.
    When we’d finished, Dr. Chase collapsed in his leather recliner. He laced his hands. “My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry.”
    “Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais,” Zoë said. “And we need it immediately.”
    “I’ll drive you. Hmm, it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two.”
    “Whoa, you have an actual biplane?” I said.
    “Down at Crissy Field,” Dr. Chase said proudly. “That’s the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—”
    “Sir,” Thalia said. “Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It’s too dangerous.”
    Dr. Chase frowned uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I . . . I can’t just—”
    “Snacks,” Mrs. Chase announced. She pushed through the door with a tray full of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Thalia and I inhaled a few cookies while Zoë said, “I can drive, sir. I’m not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car.”
    Mrs. Chase knit her eyebrows. “What’s this about?”
    “Annabeth is in danger,” Dr. Chase said. “On Mount Tam. I would drive them, but . . . apparently it’s no place for mortals.”
    It sounded like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.
    I waited for Mrs. Chase to say no. I mean, what mortal parent would allow three underage teenagers to borrow their car? To my surprise, Mrs. Chase nodded. “Then they’d better get going.”
    “Right!” Dr. Chase jumped up and started patting his pockets. “My keys . . .”
    His wife sighed. “Frederick, honestly. You’d lose your head if it weren’t wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front