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“He’s—he was a satyr: half man, half goat. Satyrs work for the camp, finding demigods, protecting them, bringing them in when the time is right.”
    Piper had no trouble believing Coach Hedge was half goat. She’d seen the guy eat. She’d never liked the coach much, but she couldn’t believe he’d sacrificed himself to save them.
    “What happened to him?” she asked. “When we went up into the clouds, did he … is he gone for good?”
    “Hard to say.” Annabeth’s expression was pained. “Storm spirits … difficult to battle. Even our best weapons, Celestial bronze, will pass right through them unless you can catch them by surprise.”
    “Jason’s sword just turned them to dust,” Piper remembered.
    “He was lucky, then. If you hit a monster just right, you can dissolve them, send their essence back to Tartarus.”
    “Tartarus?”
    “A huge abyss in the Underworld, where the worst monsters come from. Kind of like a bottomless pit of evil. Anyway, once monsters dissolve, it usually takes months, even years before they can re-form again. But since this storm spirit Dylan got away—well, I don’t know why he’d keep Hedge alive. Hedge was a protector, though. He knew the risks. Satyrs don’t have mortal souls. He’ll be reincarnated as a tree or a flower or something.”
    Piper tried to imagine Coach Hedge as a clump of very angry pansies. That made her feel even worse.
    She gazed at the cabins below, and an uneasy feeling settled over her. Hedge had died to get her here safely. Her mom’s cabin was down there somewhere, which meant she had brothers and sisters, more people she’d have to betray. Do what we tell you, the voice had said. Or the consequences will be painful. She tucked her hands under her arms, trying to stop them from shaking.
    “It’ll be okay,” Annabeth promised. “You have friends here. We’ve all been through a lot of weird stuff. We know what you’re going through.”
    I doubt that, Piper thought.
    “I’ve been kicked out of five different schools the past five years,” she said. “My dad’s running out of places to put me.”
    “Only five?” Annabeth didn’t sound like she was teasing. “Piper, we’ve all been labeled troublemakers. I ran away from home when I was seven.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Oh, yeah. Most of us are diagnosed with attention deficit disorder or dyslexia, or both—”
    “Leo’s ADHD,” Piper said.
    “Right. It’s because we’re hardwired for battle. Restless, impulsive—we don’t fit in with regular kids. You should hear how much trouble Percy—” Her face darkened. “Anyway, demigods get a bad rep. How’d you get in trouble?”
    Usually when someone asked that question, Piper started a fight, or changed the subject, or caused some kind of distraction. But for some reason she found herself telling the truth.
    “I steal stuff,” she said. “Well, not really steal …”
    “Is your family poor?”
    Piper laughed bitterly. “Not even. I did it … I don’t know why. For attention, I guess. My dad never had time for me unless I got in trouble.”
    Annabeth nodded. “I can relate. But you said you didn’t really steal? What do you mean?”
    “Well … nobody ever believes me. The police, teachers—even the people I took stuff from: they’re so embarrassed, they’ll deny what happened. But the truth is, I don’t steal anything. I just ask people for things. And they give me stuff. Even a BMW convertible. I just asked. And the dealer said, ‘Sure. Take it.’ Later, he realized what he’d done, I guess. Then the police came after me.”
    Piper waited. She was used to people calling her a liar, but when she looked up, Annabeth just nodded.
    “Interesting. If your dad were the god, I’d say you’re a child of Hermes, god of thieves. He can be pretty convincing. But your dad is mortal…”
    “Very,” Piper agreed.
    Annabeth shook her head, apparently mystified. “I don’t know, then. With luck, your mom will claim