I, the most important passenger, the youth who had once been the glorious god Apollo, was forced to sit in the back of the dragon. Cold wind blew her chestnut hair into my face, making me blink and spit. “Could we please get to the ground? Gently this time?”įor a formerly immortal sorceress who once controlled air spirits, Calypso was not a fan of flying. No blowtorching public monuments!”īehind him on the dragon’s spine, Calypso gripped Festus’s scales for balance. “Whoa, buddy!” Leo Valdez pulled the dragon’s reins. He landed on the cupola of the Indiana Statehouse, flapped his metallic wings, and blew a cone of fire that incinerated the state flag right off the flagpole. Yet for some reason, Festus decided he did not like Indiana. Ohio he tolerated, even after our encounter with Potina, the Roman goddess of childhood drinks, who pursued us in the form of a giant red pitcher emblazoned with a smiley face. Pennsylvania he seemed to enjoy, despite our battle with the Cyclopes of Pittsburgh. We’d been traveling west for six weeks, and Festus had never shown such hostility toward a state. WHEN OUR DRAGON declared war on Indiana, I knew it was going to be a bad day.

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