Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
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She was too busy jotting down notes to answer.
"Right!" She said with a breezy smile. "Well, I'm sure C.C. will want to speak with you
personally before the luau. Come, please."
Now here's the thing. Annabeth and I were used to traps, and usually those traps looked
good at first. So I expected the clipboard lady to turn into a snake or a demon, or something, any
minute. But on the other hand, we'd been floating in a rowboat for most of the day. I was hot, tired,
and hungry, and when this lady mentioned a luau, my stomach sat up on its hind legs and begged
like a dog.
"I guess it couldn't hurt," Annabeth muttered.
Of course it could, but we followed the lady anyway. I kept my hands in my pockets where I'd
stashed my only magic defenses—Hermes's multivitamins and Riptide— but the farther we
wandered into the resort, the more I forgot about them.
The place was amazing. There was white marble and blue water everywhere I looked.
Terraces climbed up the side of the mountain, with swimming pools on every level, connected by
watersides and waterfalls and underwater tubes you could swim through. Fountains sprayed water
into the air, forming impossible shapes, like flying eagles and galloping horses.
Tyson loved horses, and I knew he'd love those fountains. I almost turned around to see the
expression on his face before I remembered: Tyson was gone.
"You okay?" Annabeth asked me. "You look pale."
"I'm okay," I lied. "Just ... let's keep walking."
We passed all kinds of tame animals. A sea turtle napped in a stack of beach towels. A
leopard stretched out asleep on the diving board. The resort guests—only young women, as far as I
could see—lounged in deck chairs, drinking fruit smoothies or reading magazines while herbal gunk
dried on their faces and manicurists in white uniforms did their nails.
As we headed up a staircase toward what looked like the main building, I heard a woman
singing. Her voice drifted through the air like a lullaby. Her words were in some language other than
Ancient Greek, but just as old—Minoan, maybe, or something like that. I could understand what she
sang about—moonlight in the olive groves, the colors of the sunrise. And magic. Something about
magic. Her voice seemed to lift me off the steps and carry me toward her.
We came into a big room where the whole front wall was windows. The back wall was
covered in mirrors, so the room seemed to go on forever. There was a bunch of expensive-looking
white furniture, and on a table in one corner was a large wire pet cage. The cage seemed out of
place, but I didn't think about it too much, because just then I saw the lady who'd been singing ...
and whoa.
She sat at a loom the size of a big screen TV, her hands weaving colored thread back and
forth with amazing skill. The tapestry shimmered like it was three dimensional—a waterfall scene so
real I could see the water moving and clouds drifting across a fabric sky.
Annabeth caught her breath. "It's beautiful."
The woman turned. She was even prettier than her fabric. Her long dark hair was braided
with threads of gold. She had piercing green eyes and she wore a silky black dress with shapes that
seemed to move in the fabric: animal shadows, black upon black, like deer running through a forest
at night.
"You appreciate weaving, my dear?" the woman asked.
"Oh, yes, ma'am!" Annabeth said. "My mother is—"
She stopped herself. You couldn't just go around announcing that your mom was Athena,
the goddess who invented the loom. Most people would lock you in a rubber room.
Our hostess just smiled. "You have good taste, my dear. I'm so glad you've come. My name
is C.C."
The animals in the corner cage started squealing. They must've been guinea pigs, from the
sound of them.
We introduced ourselves to C.C. She looked me over with a twinge of disapproval, as if I'd
failed some kind of test. Immediately, I felt bad. For some reason, I really wanted to please this lady.
"Oh, dear," she sighed. "You do need my help."
"Ma'am?" I asked.
C.C. called to the lady in the business suit. "Hylla, take Annabeth on a tour, will you? Show