I Get Extra Time and Candy Corn I did not do well.
Not on the quiz. Not on the rest of my school day. Not on getting back to the mansion after swim practice.
What is it about gods on the subway? I was on the W train halfway to Union Square when Hecate decided to check up on me. Fortunately, there weren’t many other people in my train car. Nobody else seemed to notice the bench across from me turning black like a withering plant, then the
whole side of the train melting into a rippling, bubbling mirror of shadows.
The three beastly faces of Hecate emerged from the gloom—the horse, the lion, the dog all staring at me with their blazing eyes.
“Did you try to call?” Hecate asked, her voice whinnying from the horse’s mouth.
Still, nobody else on the train reacted. I was reluctant to answer the goddess, since I would probably look like I was talking to myself. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be the first time New York commuters had seen that on the train. I really needed to start carrying a dummy pair of headphones with me. Then people would think I was just talking to a friend and not communing with otherworldly forces.
“No, I didn’t call,” I said. “Why?”
“I heard you speak my name,” said the lion. “More times than usual. Is everything all right?”
I should have known better than to use her name so often. That tends to get a god’s attention. It’s the divine equivalent of a butt-dial.
Now I’d have to be careful what I said. If I lied, she would probably sense that. But I also couldn’t tell her the truth. The truth would get me trampled faster than a raging strawberry goat monster would.
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I was just talking about you in my Ancient Cultures class.”
Her six fiery eyes burned into my soul. “I see,” the dog’s head growled. “I am considered ancient, now, am I?”
“No! I mean—”
Her three heads laughed, which was really disturbing.
“Relax, Percy Jackson.” Hecate morphed into a middle-aged woman in a black dress—her default evil-principal look. She sat on an obsidian throne in the middle of her shadowy gateway, munching from a bag of candy corn.
“I am just teasing you.”
“I knew that.” I forced a smile. “Ha-ha.” “Everything is fine at home, then?” she asked.
Evasive maneuvers! I thought. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t tell the truth.
Maybe I should follow the lead of the third door knocker and spout something random like Fahrvergnügen!
“Just heading back now,” I said. “Wow, Hecuba and Gale sure love their walks. They really surprised us the first night.”
Hecate chuckled. “Yes, my little babies.” She bit off the tip of a candy corn with her sharp white teeth, which made me think of guillotines. “I hope
they’re not being too much trouble.”
“How’s the trip going?” I asked, changing the topic all subtle-like. “Where are you today?”
When in doubt, I’ve found the best way to distract someone is to get them talking about themselves. That seems to be a source of endless fascination for selves everywhere.
“Ireland!” Hecate said. “Helping them prepare for the Púca Festival.
They have an entire night of torch dancing, obviously in honor of me, though they’ve gotten their traditions a bit mixed up over the millennia, bless their hearts.”
“Right,” I said. “With candy corn?”
“Oh, no, I brought that with me,” Hecate said. “I always travel with a bag of candy corn.”
This was horrifying, but somehow not surprising.
“Glad you’ve having fun,” I said. “Hey, just curious, you would never
…”
I stopped myself. I’d been thinking about Chiron’s comment that maybe
Hecate was setting us up. Now that she was right here in front of me, I was itching to confront her about that. I’d almost asked You would never want us to fail, lose your pets, and destroy your house, would you? That was a
Percy-level bad idea. It would lead to questions about how we had, actually, lost her pets and destroyed her house.
“I would never do what?” Hecate asked.
I needed to pivot—turn my question into something that would help us, not get us killed more quickly.
“Uh, you would never consider extending your trip, would you? Couple of days? An extra week?”
Hecate narrowed her eyes. “Why would I do that?”
I felt like I was sweating into my bench, melting into my own puddle of shadows. “Well, you’re having such fun. You don’t get much time off. I imagine there’s a lot of festivals you won’t be able to make.”
A tense moment passed. I waited for Hecate to snap her fingers, teleport to her mansion, learn what was going on, then come back and hurl my W
train straight to Tartarus.
She laughed. “So, you do like my pets. I knew they would grow on you!
Don’t worry, Percy Jackson. If you do a good job this week, I will put you on my list of preferred pet-sitters for the future.”
“I mean, yay.”
“But I would feel bad coming home any later.”
“I get it. Maybe just … aim for Saturday morning? Friday night is Halloween, after all. It would be a shame to cut that short. We don’t mind.”
She nibbled pensively on a candy corn. “Well … I have always wanted to attend that festival in Transylvania.”
“Transylvania!” I nodded. “I love that for you.”
“The Ritual Killing of the Living Dead, you know.” “Sounds fun!”
“They know me so well there. Plus they have yummy kürtőskalács.”
I thought she’d said conniption fits, but I used my context clues and decided that couldn’t be right. Unless Hecate found Transylvanian temper tantrums tasty.
“Yum!” I said.
“Very well,” Hecate decided. “I will return on Saturday morning. Thank you, Percy Jackson!”
“Don’t mention it.”
“And when I return, if everything isn’t just as I left it …”
“Oh, don’t worry!” I said. “Worrying is my job. I am excellent at worrying.” No lies detected, obviously.
Hecate laughed. “Onward, then!”
She disappeared in an implosion of darkness, leaving behind her bag of candy corn, as if I needed another threat.
When I got back to Gramercy Park, Grover’s first comment was “Is that candy corn?”
“Yeah.” I handed him the bag. “It’s gross. Enjoy.”
As Grover chowed down, I joined him and Annabeth on the great-room floor and told them about my terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad goddess- butt-dial day. Hellpuppy Nope curled up in Annabeth’s lap and listened.
When I was done, Annabeth said, “I’m jealous. Chiron never substitutes at School of Design. You are so lucky.”
I imagined the centaur rolling up to Advanced Dressmaking with a sparkly tie, rhinestone glasses, and sequins on his wheel rims. He could have totally pulled it off.
“Nope!” offered Nope.
“I know,” Grover told him. “But I don’t think Percy will like that name.” “Excuse me?” I asked.
Grover shifted anxiously, like someone might take away his candy bag. “Nope made up names for all of us. Annabeth is Mom.”
Annabeth beamed. “What a good dog!”
“I’m Chew Toy,” Grover said. Then, before I could laugh, he added, “You’re Alley Boy.”
Annabeth kept a straight face. “It’s perfect.”
“Seaweed Brain is bad enough,” I grumbled. “Alley Boy sounds like some sort of D-list superhero sidekick.”
“The Adventures of Mom, Chew Toy, and Alley Boy,” Annabeth mused.
“We should pitch that to Hollywood.”
I wasn’t sure if she was kidding, which always made me nervous.
“Anyway,” I said, “I managed to buy us a few more hours. Hecate won’t be back until Saturday morning.”
“That’s good.” Grover gazed forlornly around the damaged house. He’d
done what he could to clean up the debris. The front door was covered with a plastic shower curtain. The knockers had been wrapped in paper towels and tucked in a cardboard box. Most of the broken furniture had been cleared away. But there wasn’t much he could do to hide the broken
stained-glass windows and the massive goat-hoof craters in the walls. “Maybe if we find some duct tape …”
“One thing at a time,” Annabeth reminded him. “Tonight, our mission is Hecuba. She’s the biggest, most dangerous pet. If Chiron is right, she’ll be out there hunting Greeks as soon as the sun goes down.”
She turned to me. “I spent all day in the library, and I learned … well, pretty much what Chiron told you. Which is annoying, since I had to translate most of the information from Greek and Latin.”
“On the bright side,” I said, “you didn’t turn into a flaming purple armadillo.”
“Not yet,” she agreed. “Though some of the books in that room …” She shook her head in amazement. “I could swear they were calling to me, urging me to read them.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said. “I fear Hecate may be tempting us to make bad choices.”
I told them what I’d been thinking about the strawberry concoction, the library, and the torches. I wasn’t sure if the moray eels were supposed to be a temptation—unless they were a temptation for me to strangle a moray eel.
In which case, well played, Hecate.
Grover sniffled. “I appreciate you saying all that, Percy. But this is still my fault. I was weak!”
“Hey.” I patted his knee. “One thing at a time, G-man, like Annabeth said. Let’s get over to Astoria. Lots of Greeks there for Hecuba to terrorize.
Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
Annabeth nodded. “We’ll bring her leash, lots of treats, and chew toys.” “Nope!” said Nope.
“He means actual chew toys, not me,” Grover explained to him. “Though I’m going, too.”
“Nope!”
“And we’ll bring the puppy,” I said. “Maybe Hecuba will be feeling maternal.”
Nope must’ve understood. He wagged his tail with such excitement he peed in Annabeth’s lap.
She took it better than I would have. She just sighed and moved the dog to the floor. “Let me change my pants. Then we’ll head to Queens.”
“And if the treats don’t work?” Grover asked. “Or the chew toys or the pup?”
I tried to think of an optimistic answer. The three of us would be scouring New York for a hellhound we couldn’t fight and that we would have to
convince to come home, and she would definitely smell us coming because we all reeked of hellpuppy pee.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. Then I said the words that would come back to haunt me in a not-so-fun, non-Halloween-ish way. “Alley Boy will have to figure something out.”
