by Rick Riordan
Will showed him the cabins, the dining pavilion, and the sword arena.
“Do I get a sword?” Leo asked.
Will glanced at him like he found the idea disturbing. “You’ll probably make your own, seeing as how you’re in Cabin Nine.”
“Yeah, what’s up with that? Vulcan?”
“Usually we don’t call the gods by their Roman names,” Will said. “The original names are Greek. Your dad is Hephaestus.”
“Festus?” Leo had heard somebody say that before, but he was still dismayed. “Sounds like the god of cowboys.”
“He-phaestus,” Will corrected. “God of blacksmiths and fire.”
Leo had heard that too, but he was trying not to think about it. The god of fire … seriously? Considering what had happened to his mom, that seemed like a sick joke.
“So the flaming hammer over my head,” Leo said. “Good thing, or bad thing?”
Will took a while to answer. “You were claimed almost immediately. That’s usually good.”
“But that Rainbow Pony dude, Butch—he mentioned a curse.”
“Ah … look, it’s nothing. Since Cabin Nine’s last head counselor died—”
“Died? Like, painfully?”
“I ought to let your bunkmates tell you about it.”
“Yeah, where are my home dawgs? Shouldn’t their counselor be giving me the VIP tour?”
“He, um, can’t. You’ll see why.” Will forged ahead before Leo could ask anything else.
“Curses and death,” Leo said to himself. “This just gets better and better.”
He was halfway across the green when he spotted his old babysitter. And she was not the kind of person he expected to see at a demigod camp.
Leo froze in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Will asked.
Tía Callida—Auntie Callida. That’s what she’d called herself, but Leo hadn’t seen her since he was five years old. She was just standing there, in the shadow of a big white cabin at the end of the green, watching him. She wore her black linen widow’s dress, with a black shawl pulled over her hair. Her face hadn’t changed—leathery skin, piercing dark eyes. Her withered hands were like claws. She looked ancient, but no different than Leo remembered.
“That old lady …” Leo said. “What’s she doing here?”
Will tried to follow his gaze. “What old lady?”
“Dude, the old lady. The one in black. How many old ladies do you see over there?”
Will frowned. “I think you’ve had a long day, Leo. The Mist could still be playing tricks on your mind. How about we head straight to your cabin now?”
Leo wanted to protest, but when he looked back toward the big white cabin, Tía Callida was gone. He was sure she’d been there, almost as if thinking about his mom had summoned Callida back from the past.
And that wasn’t good, because Tía Callida had tried to kill him.
“Just messing with you, man.” Leo pulled some gears and levers from his pockets and started fiddling with them to calm his nerves. He couldn’t have everybody at camp thinking he was crazy. At least, not crazier than he really was.
“Let’s go see Cabin Nine,” he said. “I’m in the mood for a good curse.”
From the outside, the Hephaestus cabin looked like an oversize RV with shiny metal walls and metal-slatted windows. The entrance was like a bank vault door, circular and several feet thick. It opened with lots of brass gears turning and hydraulic pistons blowing smoke.
Leo whistled. “They got a steampunk theme going on, huh?”
Inside, the cabin seemed deserted. Steel bunks were folded against the walls like high-tech Murphy beds. Each had a digital control panel, blinking LED lights, glowing gems, and interlocking gears. Leo figured each camper had his own combination lock to release his bed, and there was probably an alcove behind it with storage, maybe some traps to keep out unwanted visitors. At least, that’s the way Leo would’ve designed it. A fire pole came down from the second floor, even though the cabin didn’t appear to have a second floor from the outside. A circular staircase led down into some kind of basement. The walls were lined with every kind of power tool Leo could imagine, plus a huge assortment of knives, swords, and other implements of destruction. A large workbench overflowed with scrap metal—screws, bolts, washers, nails, rivets, and a million other machine parts. Leo had a strong urge to shovel them all into his coat pockets. He loved that kind of stuff. But he’d need a hundred more coats to fit it all.
Looking around, he could almost imagine he was back in his mom’s machine shop. Not the weapons, maybe—but the tools, the piles of scrap, the smell of grease and metal and hot engines. She would’ve loved this place.
He pushed that thought away. He didn’t like painful memories. Keep moving—that was his motto. Don’t dwell on things. Don’t stay in one place too long. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.
He picked a long implement from the wall. “A weed whacker? What’s the god of fire want with a weed whacker?”
A voice in the shadows said, “You’d be surprised.”
At the back of the room, one of the bunk beds was occupied. A curtain of dark camouflage material retracted, and Leo could see the guy who’d been invisible a second before. It was hard to tell much about him because he was covered in a body cast. His head was wrapped in gauze except for his face, which was puffy and bruised. He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy after a beat-down.
“I’m Jake Mason,” the guy said. “I’d shake your hand, but …”
“Yeah,” Leo said. “Don’t get up.”
The guy cracked a smile, then winced like it hurt to move his face. Leo wondered what had happened to him, but he was afraid to ask.
“Welcome to Cabin Nine,” Jake said. “Been almost a year since we had any new kids. I’m head counselor for now.”
“For now?” Leo asked.
Will Solace cleared his throat. “So where is everybody, Jake?”
“Down at the forges,” Jake said wistfully. “They’re working on … you know, that problem.”
“Oh.” Will changed the subject. “So, you got a spare bed for Leo?”
Jake studied Leo, sizing him up. “You believe in curses, Leo? Or ghosts?”
I just saw my evil babysitter Tía Callida, Leo thought. She’s got to be dead after all these years. And I can’t go a day without remembering my mom in that machine shop fire. Don’t talk to me about ghosts, doughboy.
But aloud, he said, “Ghosts? Pfft. Nah. I’m cool. A storm spirit chucked me down the Grand Canyon this morning, but you know, all in a day’s work, right?”
Jake nodded. “That’s good. Because I’ll give you the best bed in the cabin—Beckendorf’s.”
“Whoa, Jake,” Will said. “You sure?”
Jake called out: “Bunk 1-A, please.”
The whole cabin rumbled. A circular section of the floor spiraled open like a camera lens, and a full-size bed popped up. The bronze frame had a built-in game station at the footboard, a stereo system in the headboard, a glass-door refrigerator mounted into the base, and a whole bunch of control panels running down the side.
Leo jumped right in and lay back with arms behind his head. “I can handle this.”
“It retracts into a private room below,” Jake said.
“Oh, heck, yes,” Leo said. “See y’all. I’ll be down in the Leo Cave. Which button do I press?”
“Hold on,” Will Solace protested. “You guys have private underground rooms?”
Jake probably would’ve smiled if it didn’t hurt so much. “We got lots of secrets, Will. You Apollo guys can’t have all the fun. Our campers have been excavating the tunnel system under Cabin Nine for almost a century. We still haven’t found the end. Anyway, Leo, if you don’t mind sleeping in a dead man’s bed, it’s yours.”
Suddenly Leo didn’t feel like kicking back. He sat up, careful not to touch any of the buttons. “The counselor who died—this was his bed?”
“Yeah,
” Jake said. “Charles Beckendorf.”
Leo imagined saw blades coming through the mattress, or maybe a grenade sewn inside the pillows. “He didn’t, like, die in this bed, did he?”
“No,” Jake said. “In the Titan War, last summer.”
“The Titan War,” Leo repeated, “which has nothing to do with this very fine bed?”
“The Titans,” Will said, like Leo was an idiot. “The big powerful guys that ruled the world before the gods. They tried to make a comeback last summer. Their leader, Kronos, built a new palace on top of Mount Tam in California. Their armies came to New York and almost destroyed Mount Olympus. A lot of demigods died trying to stop them.”
“I’m guessing this wasn’t on the news?” Leo said.
It seemed like a fair question, but Will shook his head in disbelief. “You didn’t hear about Mount St. Helens erupting, or the freak storms across the country, or that building collapsing in St. Louis?”
Leo shrugged. Last summer, he’d been on the run from another foster home. Then a truancy officer caught him in New Mexico, and the court sentenced him to the nearest correctional facility—the Wilderness School. “Guess I was busy.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jake said. “You were lucky to miss it. The thing is, Beckendorf was one of the first casualties, and ever since then—”
“Your cabin’s been cursed,” Leo guessed.
Jake didn’t answer. Then again, the dude was in a body cast. That was an answer. Leo started noticing little things that he hadn’t seen before—an explosion mark on the wall, a stain on the floor that might’ve been oil … or blood. Broken swords and smashed machines kicked into the corners of the room, maybe out of frustration. The place did feel unlucky.
Jake sighed halfheartedly. “Well, I should get some sleep. I hope you like it here, Leo. It used to be … really nice.”
He closed his eyes, and the camouflage curtain drew itself across the bed.
“Come on, Leo,” Will said. “I’ll take you to the forges.”
As they were leaving, Leo looked back at his new bed, and he could almost imagine a dead counselor sitting there—another ghost who wasn’t going to leave Leo alone.
VI
LEO
“HOW DID HE DIE?” LEO ASKED. “I mean Beckendorf.”
Will Solace trudged ahead. “Explosion. Beckendorf and Percy Jackson blew up a cruise ship full of monsters. Beckendorf didn’t make it out.”
There was that name again—Percy Jackson, Annabeth’s missing boyfriend. That guy must’ve been into everything around here, Leo thought.
“So Beckendorf was pretty popular?” Leo asked. “I mean —before he blew up?”
“He was awesome,” Will agreed. “It was hard on the whole camp when he died. Jake—he became head counselor in the middle of the war. Same as I did, actually. Jake did his best, but he never wanted to be leader. He just likes building stuff. Then after the war, things started to go wrong. Cabin Nine’s chariots blew up. Their automatons went haywire. Their inventions started to malfunction. It was like a curse, and eventually people started calling it that—the Curse of Cabin Nine. Then Jake had his accident—”
“Which had something to do with the problem he mentioned,” Leo guessed.
“They’re working on it,” Will said without enthusiasm. “And here we are.”
The forge looked like a steam-powered locomotive had smashed into the Greek Parthenon and they had fused together. White marble columns lined the soot-stained walls. Chimneys pumped smoke over an elaborate gable carved with a bunch of gods and monsters. The building sat at the edge of a stream, with several waterwheels turning a series of bronze gears. Leo heard machinery grinding inside, fires roaring, and hammers ringing on anvils.
They stepped through the doorway, and a dozen guys and girls who’d been working on various projects all froze. The noise died down to the roar of the forge and the click-click-click of gears and levers.
“’Sup, guys,” Will said. “This is your new brother, Leo—um, what’s your last name?”
“Valdez.” Leo looked around at the other campers. Was he really related to all of them? His cousins came from some big families, but he’d always just had his mom—until she died.
Kids came up and started shaking hands and introducing themselves. Their names blurred together: Shane, Christopher, Nyssa, Harley (yeah, like the motorcycle). Leo knew he’d never keep everybody straight. Too many of them. Too overwhelming.
None of them looked like the others—all different face types, skin tone, hair color, height. You’d never think, Hey, look, it’s the Hephaestus Bunch! But they all had powerful hands, rough with calluses and stained with engine grease. Even little Harley, who couldn’t have been more than eight, looked like he could go six rounds with Chuck Norris without breaking a sweat.
And all the kids shared a sad kind of seriousness. Their shoulders slumped like life had beaten them down pretty hard. Several looked like they’d been physically beaten up, too. Leo counted two arm slings, one pair of crutches, an eye patch, six Ace bandages, and about seven thousand Band-Aids.
“Well, all right!” Leo said. “I hear this is the party cabin!”
Nobody laughed. They all just stared at him.
Will Solace patted Leo’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you guys to get acquainted. Somebody show Leo to dinner when it’s time?”
“I got it,” one of the girls said. Nyssa, Leo remembered. She wore camo pants, a tank top that showed off her buffarms, and a red bandanna over a mop of dark hair. Except for the smiley-face Band-Aid on her chin, she looked like one of those female action heroes, like any second she was going to grab a machine gun and start mowing down evil aliens.
“Cool,” Leo said. “I always wanted a sister who could beat me up.”
Nyssa didn’t smile. “Come on, joker boy. I’ll show you around.”
* * *
Leo was no stranger to workshops. He’d grown up around grease monkeys and power tools. His mom used to joke that his first pacifier was a lug wrench. But he’d never seen any place like the camp forge.
One guy was working on a battle-ax. He kept testing the blade on a slab of concrete. Each time he swung, the ax cut into the slab like it was warm cheese, but the guy looked unsatisfied and went back to honing the edge.
“What’s he planning to kill with that thing?” Leo asked Nyssa. “A battleship?”
“You never know. Even with Celestial bronze—”
“That’s the metal?”
She nodded. “Mined from Mount Olympus itself. Extremely rare. Anyway, it usually disintegrates monsters on contact, but big powerful ones have notoriously tough hides. Drakons, for instances—”
“You mean dragons?”
“Similar species. You’ll learn the difference in monster-fighting class.”
“Monster-fighting class. Yeah, I already got my black belt in that.”
She didn’t crack a smile. Leo hoped she wasn’t this serious all the time. His dad’s side of the family had to have some sense of humor, right?
They passed a couple of guys making a bronze windup toy. At least that’s what it looked like. It was a six-inch-tall centaur—half man, half horse—armed with a miniature bow. One of the campers cranked the centaur’s tail, and it whirred to life. It galloped across the table, yelling, “Die, mosquito! Die, mosquito!” and shooting everything in sight.
Apparently this had happened before, because everybody knew to hit the floor except Leo. Six needle-sized arrows embedded themselves in his shirt before a camper grabbed a hammer and smashed the centaur to pieces.
“Stupid curse!” The camper waved his hammer at the sky. “I just want a magic bug killer! Is that too much to ask?”
“Ouch,” Leo said.
Nyssa pulled the needles out of his shirt. “Ah, you’re fine. Let’s move on before they rebuild it.”
Leo rubbed his chest as they walked. “That sort of thing happen a lot?”
“Lately,” Nyssa said, “everyt
hing we build turns to junk.”
“The curse?”
Nyssa frowned. “I don’t believe in curses. But something’s wrong. And if we don’t figure out the dragon problem, it’s gonna get even worse.”
“The dragon problem?” Leo hoped she was talking about a miniature dragon, maybe one that killed cockroaches, but he got the feeling he wasn’t going to be so lucky.
Nyssa took him over to a big wall map that a couple of girls were studying. The map showed the camp—a semicircle of land with Long Island Sound on the north shore, the woods to the west, the cabins to the east, and a ring of hills to the south.
“It’s got to be in the hills,” the first girl said.
“We looked in the hills,” the second argued. “The woods are a better hiding place.”
“But we already set traps—”
“Hold up,” Leo said. “You guys lost a dragon? A real full-size dragon?”
“It’s a bronze dragon,” Nyssa said. “But yes, it’s a life-size automaton. Hephaestus cabin built it years ago. Then it was lost in the woods until a few summers back, when Beckendorf found it in pieces and rebuilt it. It’s been helping protect the camp, but, um, it’s a little unpredictable.”
“Unpredictable,” Leo said.
“It goes haywire and smashes down cabins, sets people on fire, tries to eat the satyrs.”
“That’s pretty unpredictable.”
Nyssa nodded. “Beckendorf was the only one who could control it. Then he died, and the dragon just got worse and worse. Finally it went berserk and ran off. Occasionally it shows up, demolishes something, and runs away again. Everyone expects us to find it and destroy it—”
“Destroy it?” Leo was appalled. “You’ve got a life-size bronze dragon, and you want to destroy it?”
“It breathes fire,” Nyssa explained. “It’s deadly and out of control.”
“But it’s a dragon! Dude, that’s so awesome. Can’t you try talking to it, controlling it?”
“We tried. Jake Mason tried. You saw how well that worked.”
Leo thought about Jake, wrapped in a body cast, lying alone on his bunk. “Still—”