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It was the kind of room a god would design: grandiose, impractical, and uncomfortable, like Hecate had thought,This is probably how humans live, right? Sure!I couldn’t imagine spending four nights here without developing an anxiety disorder. Unfortunately, that was my quest. Bummer.

The hellhound padded over to the dais and barked.

A smaller animal, who’d been curled up asleep on the lectern, lifted its head. Judging from its noodlelike body, triangular face, and the mask of black fur around its beady eyes, I guessed it was a polecat.

It yawned, stretched, and then farted with a sound like air being pinched from a balloon.

“Hi!” Grover strolled up to the varmint with a total disregard for toxic fumes. “I’m Grover. How do you do?”

I wouldn’t have offered my hand to the polecat. It had pointy teeth. Nevertheless, the polecat stood on its high legs and extended one dainty paw, shaking politely with Grover. Then it farted again, because etiquette.

“Gale?” Grover asked. (I seriously hoped he wasn’t translating the polecat’s flatulence.) “That’s a lovely name. These are my friends, Annabeth and Percy.”

Before I could say anything likeHelloorWhat in the gods’ names have you been eating?the smell hit me. My eyes watered. If I was going to spend a school week with Gale, I’d need to go shopping for deodorizers. Maybe I could tie a new-car-scented air freshener to her tail.

Then from above us, a voice called, “Ah, there you are!”

Standing on the balcony at the top of the staircase was the goddess Hecate.

To answer your burning question—What do gods wear at home?—I can now confirm: yoga pants and an oversize sleep shirt. Hecate’s hair was tied back in a loose bun, and her face and shirt were covered with dark smudges, like my mom when she’s been cleaning the oven. (Sorry, Mom.) She definitely did not look ready for visitors.

“Are we early?” I asked. “We can come back—”

“No, no!” Hecate gave me a smile that was about as warm and welcoming as her decor. “You’re just in time. I can give you the three-drachma tour of the house.”

“Cool!” Grover said.

Hecate stared at us expectantly.

I wondered if I was supposed to bow, or offer my hand, or fart with gusto.

“Oh,” Annabeth said at last. “You’re not joking about the three drachmas.”

The goddess’s eyes glinted. “I never joke about drachmas, my dear.”

Annabeth fished around in her pockets. She came up with three golden coins. As usual, I was grateful she was so prepared. Otherwise, I would’ve had to get into the whole awkward conversation about whether Hecate took IOUs.

“Just put them on the piano,” Hecate said.

Once Annabeth had made her offering, Hecate’s smile warmed just a bit. “Right, then. Come on up! The eels won’t feed themselves!”

Yes, eels.

In Hecate’s second-floor hallway, she kept a massive freestanding glass column of salt water filled with morays because, she told us, their toxic mucus was good for potions. That was more information than I needed to know.

Four long yellow monsters glided through the tank, wriggling around coral and fixing me with their soulless blue eyes. Hecate showed us how to feed them from a nearby freezer full of dead fish, but she needn’t have bothered. The eels were telling me all about it telepathically. Their thoughts chiseled their way into my skull like ice picks.

She feeds us six times a day, said the one who thought of himself as Larry.

“Only feed them once a day,” Hecate said.

We get twenty fish each, said another eel, Fortunato.

“One fish each,” Hecate instructed.

And the polecat looks tasty, too, said the eel called Bigwig.We can eat the polecat.

“We’ll figure it out,” I told the goddess. “I get along great with sea creatures.”