I wait, heart pounding, expecting the guard to reach out a beefy gold hand and grab me in its unyielding grip. But as much as I want to run, I stay utterly still. So does the guard.

It’s eyes swing side to side once, like it’s checking the area, and then glide shut.

I bite my lips to keep from exhaling a sigh of relief. I should have known. Old Heph’s creatures are never quite perfect. This one must have a vision weakness—like it can detect movement, not shapes.

Lucky me.

Tiptoeing lighter than I’ve ever stepped in my life, I inch my way out from in front of the guard, around its massive gold body, and make my way for the tall hedge that surrounds the outer wall of Olympus. The bushes are dangerous—thorns tipped with poison that is designed to torment more than kill. Anyone trying to sneak in this way is in for a serious hurt.

I only hope the password hasn’t changed.

Facing the section twenty paces from the front gate, I close my eyes, take a breath, and say, “Gia tin agapi.”

For love.

If I remember the story right, after a pair of human adventurers found their way into the hallowed halls of mythology, Zeus called for major renovation of the Olympic security system. The upgrade included doubling the height of the wall, activating non-Olympian sensors, and installing the poisonous hedge. At the time, one of the gods was having a love affair with human. That god convinced Hephaestus to leave an access point. A way for the human lover to get in and out of the palace without detection.

My mother told me it was Aphrodite, but I’ve always suspected it was Zeus himself. Total hypocrite.

After speaking the password, I wait a few seconds, kind of expecting something to happen—a movement or a sound. Nothing.

I can’t stand here all day. I have to risk it, to go on faith that the password worked. I’m not big on faith. I prefer action. But I don’t have a choice.

Reaching out, I brace myself for the scratch and sting of poison thorns as I shove my hand into the hedge. Instead of pain shooting up my arm, I see the hedge flicker like a bad computer screen.

My body sags with relief as I step through the false image. A hologram. The gods are getting computer savvy. One challenge down, about seventy thousand to go.