Free The Heroes of Olympus: The Demigod Diaries by Rick Riordan Page A

muddy. I didn’t want to know what was in that water.
    There wasn’t much light, but the cavern looked like a cross between a construction zone and a flea market. Scattered around the cave were crates, toolboxes, pallets of timber, and stacks of steel pipe. There was even a bulldozer half-sunken in the mud.
    Even stranger: several old cars had somehow been brought from the surface, each filled with suitcases and mounds of purses. Racks of clothing had been carelessly tossed around like somebody had cleaned out a department store. Worst of all, hanging from meat hooks on a stainless steel scaffold was a row of cow carcasses—skinned, gutted, and ready for butchering. Judging from the smell and the flies, they weren’t very fresh. It was almost enough to make me turn vegetarian, except for the pesky fact that I loved cheeseburgers.
    No sign of a giant. I hoped he wasn’t home. Then Annabeth pointed to the far end of the cave. “Maybe down there.”
    Leading into the darkness was a twenty-foot-diameter tunnel, perfectly round, as if made by a huge snake. Oh…bad thought.
    I didn’t like the idea of walking to the other side of the cave, especially through that flea market of heavy machinery and cow carcasses.
    “How did all this stuff get down here?” I felt the need to whisper, but my voice echoed anyway.
    Annabeth scanned the scene. She obviously didn’t like what she saw. “They must’ve lowered the bulldozer in pieces and assembled it down here,” she decided. “I think that’s how they dug the subway system a long time ago.”
    “What about the other junk?” I asked. “The cars and, um, meat products?”
    She furrowed her eyebrows. “Some of it looks like street vendor merchandise. Those purses and coats…the giant must’ve brought them down here for some reason.” She gestured toward the bulldozer. “That thing looks like it’s been through combat.”
    As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw what she meant. The machine’s caterpillar treads were busted. The driver’s seat was charred to a crisp. In the front of the rig, the big shovel blade was dented as if it had run into something…or been punched.
    The silence was eerie. Looking up at the tiny speck of daylight above us, I got vertigo. How could a cave this big exist under Manhattan without the city block collapsing, or the Hudson River flooding in? We had to be hundreds of feet below sea level.
    What really disturbed me was that tunnel on the far side of the cave.
    I’m not saying I can smell monsters the way my friend Grover the satyr can. But suddenly I understood why he hated being underground. It felt oppressive and dangerous. Demigods didn’t belong here. Something was waiting down that tunnel.
    I glanced at Annabeth, hoping she had a great idea—like running away. Instead, she started toward the bulldozer.
    We’d just reached the middle of the cave when a groan echoed from the far tunnel. We ducked behind the bulldozer just as the giant appeared from the darkness, stretching his massive arms.
    “Breakfast,” he rumbled.
    I could see him clearly now, and I wished I couldn’t.
    How ugly was he? Let’s put it this way: Secaucus, New Jersey, was a lot nicer-looking than Cacus the giant, and that’s not a compliment to anybody.
    As Hermes had said, the giant was about ten feet tall, which made him small compared to some other giants I’d seen. But Cacus made up for it by being bright and gaudy. He had curly orange hair, pale skin, and orange freckles. His face was smeared upward with a permanent pout, upturned nose, wide eyes, and arched eyebrows, so he appeared both startled and unhappy. He wore a red velour housecoat with matching slippers. The housecoat was open, revealing silky Valentine-patterned boxer shorts and luxurious chest hair of a red/pink/orange color not found in nature.
    Annabeth made a small gagging sound. “It’s the ginger giant.”
    Unfortunately, the giant had extremely good hearing. He frowned and scanned