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“OWW!”

Li’l Killer had bitten her finger and clamped on. Annabeth yanked her hand back, shaking the fluffy little chick around like a sock with static cling, but Li’l Killer refused to let go.

“Remember not to hurt her,” I said.

“Really helpful,” Annabeth grumbled.

Blood dripped from her finger, but she cupped her free hand around the chick, holding it against her chest so it wouldn’t get away, assuming it ever got tired of the taste of human flesh. “Let’s get to the karaoke bar.”

“Is one chick enough?” I asked.

“If you’re jealous, you can have this one.”

“She is kinda cute for a killer chicken.”

From across the arcade came a sudden roar of customers cheering, hens screechingBAWK! BAWK!, and one panicked satyr yelling, “Incoming!”

How quickly I’d forgotten the herd of holy hens that wanted to tear us apart.

Annabeth and I raced for the karaoke bar, though with my newly youngified legs, it was more of a waddle. I didn’t even have the time or energy to make the diving pool explode as we ran by.

Grover reached the lounge at the same time we did. He had feathers stuck in his fur, and the back of his shirt was shredded like he’d been rolling around on a really dangerous mattress.

“That was super fun,” he wheezed.

“Get the doors!” Annabeth said.

Grover and I grabbed the big mahogany panels and started sliding them together. Why the karaoke bar had its own partition, I wasn’t sure—maybe to protect the rest of the center from the music, or to create a private event space for birthday parties or intimate interrogation sessions.

We’d just closed the doors when the flock slammed against them.

The hens squawked in outrage. The mahogany panels shuddered and creaked. I couldn’t imagine they’d hold for long under a full chicken onslaught.

“What now?” Grover asked, gasping for breath.

He looked so young and terrified that I felt bad for getting a little kid like him into this situation. Then I remembered I was also a little kid like him.

“Now comes the hard part,” Annabeth said.

“That was theeasypart?” I demanded.

Annabeth winced as she yanked Li’l Killer off her finger and set the chick on the floor.

Li’l Killer ruffled her blood-speckled feathers. She looked up at us with her shiny black eyes, peeped in a smug sort of way, like,Yeah, you best put me down,then wandered off, contentedly pecking pizza crumbs off the carpet.

Annabeth wrapped a napkin around her wounded finger. “This karaoke bar is Hebe’s temple, right? Her inner sanctum?”

I usually didn’t associate those words with karaoke bars, but I nodded. “And?”

“On Hebe’s holy days, petitioners used to come to her altar,” Annabeth continued.

“That’s right,” Grover said. “They’d ask forgiveness, and Hebe would give them sanctuary.”

“But this isn’t her holy day, is it?” I asked. “No way we could be that lucky.”

“Probably not,” Annabeth said. “But we’ll have to try.”

The doors shuddered, bending inward under the weight of the evil poultry.