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I stopped. “Fragrances.”

Grover’s eyes widened. “And we’re searching for Gale, the smelliest polecat in the world. That can’t be a coincidence. You think she’s hiding down here to camouflage her scent?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. But what do naiads have to do with it?”

Grover had no answers, and I wasn’t going to let him summon an army of squirrels to find out. Instead, we kept going, paying more attention to the perfume shops.

Once you noticed them, you couldn’t unsee them. They were everywhere, like the gold and jewelry businesses along East 47th Street. It never made sense to me why all the shops for a single commodity would be crammed together like that. Wouldn’t you get gold fatigue looking at so many jewelry places at once? Wouldn’t your nose fall off if you tried to sniff all these different perfumes in one trip? Then again, I’d never understood how anyone could operateanybusiness in Manhattan without going broke. I mentally crossed offopen a surf shopfrom my list of potential future careers.

Another block, and I froze. Across the street stood yet another perfumery. This one’s doorway was gold-plated and decorated with Greek key patterns, which seemed like a clue that something magical and Greek might be going on inside. The windows were filled with colored vials of every size and shape and a big water fixture that bubbled liquids through pipes. Dry ice smoked from a large cauldron. Maybe it was their Halloween display? Or maybe it was like that all the time. The name of the place glittered in pearly white over the door:AEAEA. I guess they’d spent all their money on the storefront decorations and hadn’t been able to afford any consonants for their sign.

“What is it?” Grover asked.

“Not sure,” I said. “The name of that place mean anything to you?”

Grover tried to pronounce it. “It looks like something Hephaestus might scream when he drops a hammer on his foot.”

I really hoped Hephaestus hadn’t heard Grover’s comment, because we didn’t need another god mad at us.

“Something feels…off,” I said.

Then I noticed the woman behind the sales counter, talking with a customer. She looked like a typical salesperson in a high-end store. She wore an elegant deep blue dress and gold dangle earrings. Her dark hair was cut in a kind of Cleopatra-style wedge. She smiled at her customer coolly, all aloof and fashionable, like she was sending the messageBuy my products, and maybe you’ll look as beautiful as I do.

Something about her was familiar…like we were standing in the same river, the current running straight from her to me.

“She’s a naiad,” I said.

Grover nodded. “You’re right. I can sense it now. Wow, you’re good.”

“What do we do now? Go ask nicely if she’s seen a farting polecat?”

“If you can senseher,” Grover said, stepping back, “do you think she can sense you?”

I wished he hadn’t said that. I think it made me send out extra sea-god-kid radiation or something. The lady turned and looked out the window as if she’d heard somebody call her name.

Our eyes locked. Her face turned into a mask of pure hatred. She said something to her client—probablyExcuse me, I have to kill someone.Then she snatched up a few perfume samples and marched straight toward us.

The naiad stormed out of her store and across the street, ignoring a honking cab and a swerving delivery truck. I didn’t like the many vials she carried in either hand, or the murderous look on her face. She was definitely targeting me, not Grover.

“Maybe step away from me,” I told him. “If she starts splashing that stuff around—”

“Not happening.” Grover stood firm, his fists clenched, like today was his day to laugh in the face of death, squirrels, and also perfume.

I deliberated whether to draw my sword. I didn’t want to escalate things. Also, swords aren’t much good at repelling liquids. I had other ways to do that.

The woman stopped at the curb a few feet away from us.

She snarled, “You shall not pass!”

“Wait, I know that line,” I said. “It’s from the wizard guy in Lord of the Rings.”

She momentarily lost her murderous look in confusion. “What?”

“What?” I repeated.

“Maybe it’s the other wizard,” Grover offered. “From that other movie.”

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s—”