Demigods & Magicians 1 - The Son of Sobek by Rick Riordan

Author:Rick Riordan [Riordan, Rick]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi
ISBN: 9780141349992
Published: 2013-05-07T00:00:00+00:00

The last symbol didn’t actually represent a sound, I knew. It was the hieroglyph for god, indicating that the letters in front of it – SBK – stood for a deity’s name.

When in doubt, I thought, hit the god button.

I pushed the fourth symbol, but nothing happened.

The storm was failing. The crocodile started to turn against the current, facing Percy. Out of the corner of my eye, through the haze and mist, I saw Percy drop to one knee.

My fingers passed over the third hieroglyph – the wicker basket (Sadie always called it the ‘teacup’) that stood for the K sound. The hieroglyph felt slightly warm to the touch – or was that my imagination?

No time to think. I pressed it. Nothing happened.

The storm died. The crocodile bellowed in triumph, ready to feed.

I made a fist and slammed the basket hieroglyph with all my strength. This time the clasp made a satisfying click and sprang open. I dropped to the pavement, and several hundred pounds of gold and gems spilled on top of me.

The crocodile staggered, roaring like the guns of a battleship. What was left of the hurricane scattered in an explosion of wind, and I shut my eyes, ready to be smashed flat by the body of a falling monster.

Suddenly, the cul-de-sac was silent. No sirens. No crocodile roaring. The mound of gold jewellery disappeared. I was lying on my back in mucky water, staring up at the empty blue sky.

Percy’s face appeared above me. He looked like he’d just run a marathon through a typhoon, but he was grinning.

‘Nice work,’ he said. ‘Get the necklace.’

‘The necklace?’ My brain still felt sluggish. Where had all that gold gone? I sat up and put my hand on the pavement. My fingers closed round the strand of jewellery, now normal-sized … well, at least normal for something that could fit round the neck of an average crocodile.

‘The – the monster,’ I stammered. ‘Where –?’

Percy pointed. A few feet away, looking very disgruntled, was a baby crocodile not more than three feet long.

‘You can’t be serious,’ I said.

‘Maybe somebody’s abandoned pet?’ Percy shrugged. ‘You hear about those on the news sometimes.’

I couldn’t think of a better explanation, but how had a baby croc got hold of a necklace that turned him into a giant killing machine?

Down the street, voices started yelling, ‘Up here! There’s these two guys!’

It was the mortal kids. Apparently they’d decided the danger was over. Now they were leading the police straight towards us.

‘We have to go.’ Percy scooped up the baby crocodile, clenching one hand round his little snout. He looked at me. ‘You coming?’

Together, we ran back to the swamp.

Half an hour later, we were sitting in a diner off the Montauk Highway. I’d shared the rest of my healing potion with Percy, who for some reason insisted on calling it nectar. Most of our wounds had healed.

We’d tied the crocodile in the woods on a makeshift leash, just until we could figure out what to do with it.

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