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That made me kind of sad. She’d been with me for, like, thirty seconds, and now she was gone again. But like I said before, she’s her own person. If she wanted to dissolve into shadows and reappear back at Camp Jupiter, all comfy and cozy in her usual giant doggie bed, who was I to stop her?

“Nope?” asked the puppy.

“I’m not crying,” I said, wiping my eyes.

The cut on Nope’s back looked infected. I could feel his ribs under his fur. Hopefully, Grover would know some hellhound first aid.

“You want to get out of here?” I asked Nope. “You can meet my friends, have a nice warm place to sleep. We’ll get you all better.”

The puppy half-heartedly licked my hand. He was still trembling, but not as bad as before.

I took that as a yes.

I knew this wouldn’t solve our problems. Hecuba and Gale were still on the loose. The manse was still a wreck. Hecate was still going to incinerate us. In fact, this was the most ADHD move I’d ever made in a career of ADHD moves. I’d gone out to find two missing pets and was coming home with a different dog instead. But anytime you can help a puppy, you should help a puppy. I picked up Nope as gently as I could, draped him over one shoulder like a baby, and started back toward Gramercy Park.

“Nope,” I said, holding out the dog for Annabeth and Grover to see.

Nope was so excited he peed on my shoes.

Annabeth moved back out of the splash zone. She looked exhausted. She had a mop in her hand, rubble in her hair, and smears of strawberry ice cream all over her clothes. Grover was standing up now, at least, but he still looked like he’d been punched repeatedly in the stomach.

“Adorable pup,” Annabeth said. “But I don’t think we can pass him off as Hecuba. Where did you find him?”

I told them the story while Annabeth mopped up the pee. I guess always being prepared has its disadvantages. When you’re the one who happens to be holding the mop, you get to mop.

Neither Annabeth nor Grover scolded me for failing to find Hecuba and Gale. Maybe they were just too tired, or maybe they figured we were doomed anyway, so we might as well be doomed with a cute puppy.

“Poor little guy,” Grover said. “That’s a nasty cut on his back.”

“Nope!” barked Nope.

“Yeah,” Grover agreed. “That’s okay.”

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Well, he’s just a pup,” Grover explained. “He isn’t barking in complete sentences yet. Basically, he saidI pee on boy, boy is mine.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “Uh, anyone else want to hold him?”

Annabeth leaned her mop against the wall and came to get the puppy. He squirmed, pushing himself off my chest, apparently anxious to get to his new mama. I didn’t blame him.

“There we go,” Annabeth said, embracing the dark mass of hell-fluff. “Who’s a good Nope?”

The dog licked the side of her face and peed some more.

“Okay, we’re going to have to work on the bladder control,” Annabeth said. “But you’re too sweet to get mad at.”

“Nope!” Nope concurred.

Annabeth set down the dog and off he went, exploring his new digs. Every time his nose bumped into something that startled him—a chair, a menacing-looking coffee table—he leaped back and barked at it until he was sure it had submitted to his puppy dominance.

“Grover, can you get him healed up?” I asked. “I figured you were his best hope.”

Grover had trouble meeting my eyes. Our emotions had been connected for years, ever since he formed an empathy link with me in seventh grade. He was well aware of how mad I’d been earlier. I could tell he was still weighed down by a strawberry-scented cloud of guilt. Nevertheless, he seemed to realize I was making a peace offering.

“Sure thing,” he said. “A little nature magic and a warm bath, he’ll be good as new. Come on, Nope.”

“Nope!” He obediently followed Grover toward the kitchen, barking and snapping at the satyr’s hooves.