The Staff of Serapis by Rick Riordan Page B

left ear was an orange price tag that read $99.99.
    Annabeth gripped the strap of her backpack. She was ready to swing it at the monster, but it wouldn’t make much of a weapon. Instead, she relied on her usual tactic when facing a stronger enemy. She started talking.
    “You’re made of two different parts,” she said. “You’re like . . . pieces of a statue that came to life. You’ve been fused together?”
    It was total conjecture, but the lion’s growl made Annabeth think she’d hit the mark. The wolf nipped at the lion’s cheek as if telling it to shut up.
    “You’re not used to working together,” Annabeth guessed. “Mr. Lion, you’ve got an ID code on your leg. You were an artefact in a museum. Maybe the Met?”
    The lion roared so loudly Annabeth’s knees wobbled.
    “I guess that’s a yes. And you, Mr. Wolf . . . that sticker on your ear . . . you were for sale in some antiques shop?”
    The wolf snarled and took a step towards her.
    Meanwhile, the train kept tunneling under the East River. Cold wind swirled through the broken windows and made Annabeth’s teeth chatter.
    All her instincts told her to run, but her joints felt as if they were dissolving. The monster’s aura kept getting brighter, filling the air with misty symbols and bloody light.
    “You . . . you’re getting stronger,” Annabeth noted. “You’re heading somewhere, aren’t you? And the closer you get—”
    The monster’s heads roared again in harmony. A wave of red energy rippled through the car. Annabeth had to fight to stay conscious.
    Crabby stepped closer. Its shell expanded, the fissure down the center burning like molten iron.
    “Hold up,” Annabeth croaked. “I—I get it now. You’re not finished yet. You’re looking for another piece. A third head?”
    The monster halted. Its eyes glinted warily, as if to say, 
Have you been reading my diary?
    Annabeth’s courage rose. Finally she was getting the measure of her enemy. She’d met lots of three-headed creatures before. When it came to mythical beings, 
three
 was sort of a magic number. It made sense that this monster would have another head.
    Crabby had been some kind of statue, divided into pieces. Now something had awakened it. It was trying to put itself back together.
    Annabeth decided she couldn’t let that happen. Those glowing red hieroglyphs and Greek letters floated around it like the burning cord of a fuse, radiating magic that felt fundamentally 
wrong
, as though it were slowly dissolving Annabeth’s cell structure.
    “You’re not exactly a Greek monster, are you?” she ventured. “Are you from Egypt?”
    Crabby didn’t like that comment. It bared its fangs and prepared to spring.
    “Whoa, boy,” she said. “You’re not at full strength yet, are you? Attack me now, and you’ll lose. After all, you two don’t trust each other.”
    The lion tilted its head and growled.
    Annabeth feigned a look of shock. “Mr. Lion! How can you say that about Mr. Wolf?”
    The lion blinked.
    The wolf glanced at the lion and snarled suspiciously.
    “And, Mr. Wolf!” Annabeth gasped. “You shouldn’t use that kind of language about your friend!”
    The two heads turned on each other, snapping and howling. The monster staggered as its forearms went in different directions.
    Annabeth knew she’d only bought herself a few seconds. She racked her brain, trying to figure out what this creature was and how she could defeat it, but it didn’t match anything she could remember from her lessons at Camp Half-Blood.
    She considered getting behind it, maybe trying to break its shell, but before she could the train slowed. They pulled into the High Street station, the first Brooklyn stop.
    The platform was strangely empty, but a flash of light by the exit stairwell caught Annabeth’s eye. A young blonde girl in white clothes was swinging a wooden staff, trying to hit a strange animal that weaved around her legs, barking angrily. From the