BRIAR WOULD'VE DIED five million times on the way to the front door if not for Leo.

First it was the motion-activated trapdoor on the sidewalk, then the lasers on the steps, then the nerve gas dispenser on the porch railing, the pressure-sensitive poison spikes in the welcome mat, and of course the exploding doorbell.

Leo deactivated all of them. It was like he could smell the traps, and he picked just the right tool out of his belt to disable them.

"You're amazing, Leo," Jason said.

Leo scowled as he examined the front door lock. "Yeah, amazing," he said. "Can't fix a dragon right, but I'm amazing."

"Hey, that wasn't your—"

"Front door's already unlocked," Leo announced.

Briar stared at the door. "It is? All those traps, and the door's unlocked?"

Leo turned the knob. The door swung open easily. He stepped inside without hesitation.

Before Jason could follow, Briar caught his arm. "He's going to need some time to get over Festus. Don't take it personally. He totally likes you."

"Yeah," Jason said. "Yeah, okay."

She sent him a reassuring smile, and made to go in when he stopped her.

"Briar," he said, "I know I was in a daze back in Chicago, but that stuff about Reyna — if she's in trouble, I want to help. I don't care if it's a trap or not."

Briar's smile faded. "Jason, you don't know what you're saying. Don't make me feel worse. Come on. We should stick together."

She ducked inside.

Her first impression of the house: Dark.

From the echo of her footsteps, she could tell the entry hall was enormous, even bigger than Boreas's penthouse; but the only illumination came from the yard lights outside. A faint glow peeked through the breaks in the thick velvet curtains. The windows rose about ten feet tall. Spaced between them along the walls were life-size metal statues. As Briar's eyes adjusted, she saw sofas arranged in a U in the middle of the room, with a central coffee table and one large chair at the far end. A massive chandelier glinted overhead. Along the back wall stood a row of closed doors.

"Where's the light switch?" Jason's voice echoed alarmingly through the room as he entered behind Briar.

"Don't see one," Leo said.

"Fire?" she suggested.

Leo held out his hand, but nothing happened. "It's not working."

"Your fire is out? Why?" Briar asked.

"Well, if I knew that—"

"Okay, okay," she said, raising her hands in surrender. "What do we do — explore? I like exploring. Dora the Explorer."

Leo shook his head. "After all those traps outside? Bad idea. And that was a shit show, and you know it."

Briar scoffed, but she knew he was right. On both counts.

She hated being a demigod. Looking around, she didn't see a comfortable room to hang out in. She imagined vicious storm spirits lurking in the curtains, dragons under the carpet, a chandelier made of lethal ice shards, ready to impale them. This wasn't like a Dora the Explorer episode.

"Leo's right," Jason said. "We're not separating again — not like in Detroit."

"Oh, thank you for reminding me of the Cyclopes." Briar huffed. "I needed that."

"It's a few hours until dawn," Jason guessed. "Too cold to wait outside. Let's bring the cages in and make camp in this room. Wait for daylight; then we can decide what to do."

Nobody offered a better idea, so they rolled in the cages with Coach Hedge and the storm spirits, then settled in. Thankfully, Leo didn't find any poison throw pillows or electric whoopee cushions on the sofas.

Leo didn't seem in the mood to make more tacos. Besides, they had no fire, so they settled for cold rations.

As Briar ate, she studied the metal statues along the walls. They looked like Greek gods or heroes. Maybe that was a good sign. Or maybe they were used for target practice. On the coffee table sat a tea service and a stack of glossy brochures, but she couldn't make out the words. Either way, she couldn't be able to, considering her dyslexia. The big chair at the other end of the table looked like a throne. None of them tried to sit in it, though she wanted to.

The canary cages didn't make the place any less creepy. The venti kept churning in their prison, hissing and spinning.

As for Coach Hedge, he was still frozen mid-shout, his cudgel raised. Leo was working on the cage, trying to open it with various tools, but the lock seemed to be giving him a hard time.

The couches were a little too comfortable — a lot better than a dragon's back — and Briar curled up, using Reyna's jacket as her blanket. She wished that she had more than her girlfriend's jacket to keep her company, because she was absolutely freezing. She wanted someone to cuddle with, and she wasn't keen on asking Leo or Jason.

With thoughts of waking up with the sun's rays in Briar's face and a low morning voice greeting her, she fell asleep.

Dogs barking. Arms wrapping around her. Pastries from a bakery. Putting lipstick marks on her face. Reciting Romeo and Juliet. Her carrying her when she got hurt.

Her telling Briar: "I will always put you first, Briar. All I have is you."

"Even if I'm being absolutely stupid?"

"Even if your stupidity pains me."

Briar had laughed and kissed her, and she'd done it again and again and again.

Briar only woke from her garbled dreams when the yelling started.

"Ahhhggggggh!"

Briar leaped to a sitting position, taking out one of her knives. She wasn't sure what was more jarring — the full sunlight that now bathed the room, or the screaming satyr.

"Coach is awake," Leo said, which was kind of unnecessary. Gleeson Hedge was capering around on his furry hindquarters, swinging his club and yelling, "Die!" as he smashed the tea set, whacked the sofas, and charged at the throne.

"Coach!" Jason yelled. He was on his feet, staring at the coach.

Hedge turned, breathing hard. His eyes were so wild, Briar was afraid he might attack. The satyr was still wearing his orange polo shirt and his coach's whistle, but his horns were clearly visible above his curly hair, and his beefy hindquarters were definitely all goat. Could you call a goat beefy? Briar didn't know.

"You're the new kid," Hedge said, lowering his club. "Jason." He looked at Leo, then Briar.

"Valdez, the other new kid," the coach said. "What's going on? We were at the Grand Canyon. The anemoi thuellai were attacking and—" He zeroed in on the storm spirit cage, and his eyes went back to DEFCON 1. "Die!"

"Whoa, Coach!" Leo stepped in the coach's path, which was pretty brave, even though Hedge was six inches shorter. "It's okay. They're locked up. We just sprang you from the other cage."

"Cage? Cage? What's going on? Just because I'm a satyr doesn't mean I can't have you doing plank push-ups, Valdez!"

Jason cleared his throat. "Coach — Gleeson — um, whatever you want us to call you. You saved us at the Grand Canyon. You were totally brave."

"Of course I was!"

"The extraction team came and took us to Camp Half-Blood. We thought we'd lost you. Then we got word the storm spirits had taken you back to their — um, operator, Medea." Briar continued. "Also, my name is Briar, thank you very much."

"That witch! Wait — that's impossible. She's mortal. She's dead."

"Yeah, well," Leo said, "somehow she got not dead anymore."

Hedge nodded, his eyes narrowing. "So! You were sent on a dangerous quest to rescue me. Excellent!"

"Um." Briar sheathed her knife, holding out her hands so Coach Hedge wouldn't attack her. "Actually, Glee — can I still call you Coach Hedge? Gleeson seems wrong. We're on a quest for something else. We kind of found you by accident."

"Oh." The coach's spirits seemed to deflate, but only for a second. Then his eyes lit up again. "But there are no accidents! Not on quests. This was meant to happen! So, this is the witch's lair, eh? Why is everything gold?"

"Gold?" Jason repeated. From the way Leo caught his breath, Briar guessed he hadn't noticed yet either.

The room was full of gold — the statues, the tea set Hedge had smashed, the chair that was definitely a throne. Even the curtains — which seemed to have opened by themselves at daybreak — appeared to be woven of gold fiber.

"Nice," Leo said. "No wonder they got so much security."

"This isn't—" Briar stammered. "This isn't Medea's place, Coach. It's some rich person's mansion in Omaha. We got away from Medea and crash-landed here."

"It's destiny, cupcakes!" Hedge insisted. "I'm meant to protect you. What's the quest?"

Before Briar could decide if she wanted to explain or just shove Coach Hedge back into his cage, a door opened at the far end of the room.

A pudgy man in a white bathrobe stepped out with a golden toothbrush in his mouth. He had a white beard and one of those long, old-fashioned sleeping caps pressed down over his white hair. He froze when he saw them, and the toothbrush fell out of his mouth.

He glanced into the room behind him and called, "Son? Lit, come out here, please. There are strange people in the throne room."

Coach Hedge did the obvious thing. He raised his club and shouted, "Die!"