I'm not usually a huge dancer, but something about the vibe of the night was getting me to feel some type of way. The music was blaring loudly in a pleasant way, my soda tasted perfect, and there were cute girls! If there was ever a party I was going to dance at, it was going to be this one.
Come on. You already know I went full-on crazy on the dance floor. Somehow, they were playing all the music I liked. Songs blended together before I knew it—Mr. Saxobeat into a few Usher tracks, then a couple of old-school Justin Bieber songs. The DJ here really knows what's up.
I danced with the nymphs for a few songs, then some random girls, and eventually ended up in one of those dance circles for the first time in my life, squaring off in a dance competition with some random dude. Exactly what I imagined it would be. Surprisingly, even the crowd's yells did little to deter me. I felt like a million bucks.
A while later—I couldn't tell how long—my stomach reminded me of reality. I excused myself from the dance floor in search of food. One of the waiters handed me a slice of pizza, with a stern warning to save room for the main course. Yeah, okay. I'd probably burn this off in a second once I got back to the floor.
I annihilated that slice and downed the rest of my soda. The pleasant feeling from before intensified, and I mentally slapped myself. Complacent, Percy. Focus.
I wasn't here to dance. I was here to find Carcinus' daughter. I'd danced with basically everyone there, and a quick little peek with [Observe] confirmed none of them were the girl I was looking for. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. My senses were addled.
I excused myself from the dining room and shimmied over to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face.
"Focus, Percy. Focus," I reminded myself, forcing the mission into the front of my mind. Carcinus' daughter. Right. Let's go.
I exited the bathroom a few seconds later but stopped myself from returning to the party floor. My senses were going haywire. My hand tensed. And then—she was standing right there.
I almost decapitated her when she lunged forward and grabbed my arm, pulling me into a janitor's closet. I didn't even ask questions. I grunted and instinctively grabbed her by the neck, holding her against the wall. She slapped my arm painfully.
"No… help… you…"
Having confirmed she wasn't a threat, I relaxed and took a closer look.
Oh. Oops. This was his daughter.
I dropped her gently to the ground and activated my healing powers, massaging her throat.
"Sorry about that. I had to be sure."
"It's fine," Malia replied quietly. "I should've been clearer. I'm glad you're here, though. I knew you were powerful, but leaving that dance floor just shows it. We need to move fast."
"What's going on?" I whispered, matching her volume. "Leaving the dance floor? What is your father planning?"
"He's been doing this for months," Malia's bottom lip trembled. I activated [Serenity Inducement] in short bursts to keep her calm.
"Doing what?"
I slapped a hand over her mouth as footsteps echoed outside. I whispered, "And why has Lady Amphitrite not lent you aid?"
She blinked a few times, processing.
"He always waits for her to leave. I'm sure you've noticed how hard it is to get off the dance floor—for almost anyone who isn't a goddess, it's impossible. There's compulsion magic keeping people from leaving."
"Malia, you need to tell me what he's planning. I'm here to help. I can't if you don't let me."
Tears leaked down her face. "It's so horrible. He… he…" I cut her off again as voices rose in the hallway. Carcinus, I think, but it sounded nothing like the weirdo from before—mean, angry, monstrous.
"The boy. Find him. We don't have much time before she wakes up."
"Yes, my lord."
As they disappeared, Malia's eyes widened in terror.
"This isn't a dinner party—it's an eating party."
"That's what the servant said from outside," I remembered. "What does that mean?"
"My father doesn't bring people here to feed them for the joy of it—he's fattening them up."
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks: the smell around the servant, the butcher room with crates, even what I thought was pizza sauce on Carcinus' chin. His shoes. The portraits of the giants with bones—they weren't animal bones. The red glasses. The merpeople insisting people drink whatever that stuff was. The compulsion magic Aphrodite had warned me about.
Unable to hold her emotions, Malia wailed.
"The guests here aren't just guests—they're the main course!"