I squeeze her back. She knows me well enough to realize that this isn’t just about me or my parents. It’s about Griffin’s parents, too.

I should have known I could count on Phoebe. She cares about him as much as I do, so it’s probably only right that she’s helping. With a descendant of the goddess of Victory on my side, how can I fail?

“What about a scuba tank?” Phoebe suggests.

I shake my head. “Not enough air time.”

“Besides,” Troy adds, “the atmospheric pressure would kill her long before she got to the seafloor.”

Phoebe and I both gawk at him.

“What?” He raises his hands in defeat. “I took physics.”

I kick a pebble off the path as we cross campus from the library to Phoebe’s house. We spent the morning working on the next step of the quest—getting a silver seashell from Poseidon’s underwater palace. All morning.

According to our research, the hard part isn’t getting the seashell—although I’m sure that won’t be a walk in the sea park. The gods don’t like making things easy for anyone, even their descendants.

No, the hard part is actually getting there.

The location of Poseidon’s palace is a carefully guarded secret. Which seems like overkill to me because it’s at the bottom of the seafloor and pretty much impossible to get to unless you belong there.

All I know is that it’s somewhere at the bottom of the Mediterranean.

“We could ask one of his descendants.” Troy chases after the pebble, kicking it back onto the concrete like he’s playing soccer.

My only response is a glare. Troy knows how I feel about those dumber-than-rocks surfer morons. I’d rather drink the entire Mediterranean, boats and all, than try to have a conversation with one of them. One disastrous science-project partnership back in Level 7 was enough togetherness to last my lifetime. And about eight more.

Phoebe ignores my irritation. “What about a submarine?”

“What about a submarine?” I echo. “Do you have one hidden away in the harbor?”

“No,” she says with a laugh. “Can’t we neofacture one?”

“Neofact—” Troy bursts out laughing.

I shake my head. “Not unless you have the complete schematics and the ability to memorize and understand them.”

Phoebe frowns.

“We would have to make sure every last bolt and wire was right,” Troy calms his laughter enough to explain. “None of us has ever built a submarine before, so it would be a huge risk.”

“That’s why it’s easier to neofacture small things, like fruit”—I hold out my palm, concentrate, and a moment later a perfect orange appears in my hand—“than big, complex things.”

“Too many variables,” Troy adds.

Phoebe blushes. “Well, how would I know?”

She’s still new to this whole powers-and-the-rules-that-bind-them world. She doesn’t know the ins and outs yet, but she’s learning.