This Dark Night ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase¹

―ii. an army of mutant butterflies

Thalia looked at the castle and shivered. "You're right. I wonder what he found here that made him send that distress call." 

"I doubt it's anything good," Naomi muttered. 

❊

The oak doors opened with a displeased groan, and the four half-bloods stepped into the entry hall in a swirl of snow. 

"Whoa," Percy said. 

Naomi couldn't help but agree. The school was huge. The walls were lined with battle flags and weapon displays: antique rifles, battleaxes, and a bunch of other stuff. 

Naomi twisted her ring, already uneasy. There was definitely something wrong about this place. 

Annabeth started to say, "I wonder where—" 

The doors slammed shut behind them. 

"Oo-kay," Percy mumbled. "Guess we'll stay a while." 

Naomi could hear music echoing from the other end of the hall. It sounded like dance music. 

They stashed their overnight bags behind a pillar and started down the hall. They hadn't gone very far when Naomi heard footsteps on the stone floor, and a man and woman marched out of the shadows to intercept them. 

They both had short gray hair and black military-style uniforms with red trim. They walked stiffly, like they had broomsticks taped to their spines. 

"Well?" the woman demanded. "What are you doing here?" 

"Um..." Percy scrambled for an explanation. "Ma'am, we're just—" 

"Ha!" the man snapped, which made Naomi jump. "Visitors are not allowed at the dance! You shall be eee-jected!" 

He had an accent—French, maybe. He pronounced his J like in Jacques. He was tall, with a hawkish face, his nostrils flaring when he spoke. His eyes were two different colors—one brown, one blue.

Naomi figured he was about to kick them out, but then Thalia stepped forward and did something strange. 

She snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp and loud. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Naomi felt a gust of wind ripple out of her hand, across the room. It washed over all of them, making the banners rustle on the walls. 

"Oh, but we're not visitors, sir," Thalia said. "We go to school here. You remember: I'm Thalia, and this is Annabeth, Naomi, and Percy. We're in the ninth grade." 

The male teacher narrowed his two-colored eyes, but he seemed hesitant. 

He looked at his colleague. "Ms. Gottschalk, do you know these students?"

She blinked, like she'd just woken from a trance. "I... yes. I believe I do, sir." She frowned at the teenagers. "Annabeth. Naomi. Thalia. Percy. What are you doing away from the gymnasium?"

Before anyone could answer, Naomi heard more footsteps, and Grover ran up, breathless. "You made it! You—" 

He stopped short when he saw the teachers. "Oh, Mrs. Gottschalk. Dr. Thorn! I, uh—"

"What is it, Mr. Underwood?" the man said. His tone made it clear he despised Grover. "What do you mean they made it? These students live here." 

Grover swallowed. "Yes, sir. Of course, Dr. Thorn. I just meant I'm so glad they made... the punch for the dance! The punch is great. And they made it!" 

Dr. Thorn glared at Naomi and her companions. He looked like he wanted to pitch them off the castle's highest tower, but then Mrs. Gottschalk said dreamily, "Yes, the punch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the gymnasium again!"