The apartment complex’s pool was packed. The party had taken over the courtyard, the pool area, the lobby—pretty much everywhere. Savannah, who had gone all-out with decorating, was floating in the pool on a raft in the shape of a clamshell, dressed as Venus in a golden bikini. She was beaming at the crowd and waving and tossing out snacks like some sort of sexy river spirit.

Savannah had been thrilled when some of her demigod friends from camp had agreed to visit for spring break, and she’d been unable to resist the opportunity for a party. She’d invited her mortal friends from school along with every teenager in the apartment complex — the more, the merrier, after all — and perhaps it was this extensive guest list that allowed the party to be infiltrated without the demigods immediately noticing.

Savannah threw a snack-sized bag of Doritos to a tall, heavily tattooed boy with skin a similar shade of orange.

“There’s sunscreen in my bag if you need it!” she shouted to him. “Or anyone else,” she added; looking around, it was clear he wasn’t the only one with questionable skincare.

“Does sunscreen make demigods taste more delicious?” the boy asked.

Savannah bit back a scream as the Mist’s distortions gave way to reveal that he wasn’t just tall. He — and the other sunburnt guests — had a good three feet on her.

Because they weren’t teenagers at all.

They were Laistrygonians.