Which mythical horse will win the race? This illustrated chapter book series set in Ancient Greece is perfect for young readers interested in mythical creatures and thrilling adventure stories! In Steeds of the Gods , Demon, the official Olympian beast keeper, is caught between Helios and Poseidon, who are planning a race to see which of their steeds is the fastest. Both vengeful gods have requested Demon’s help, but he can choose only one. Lucy Coats (www.lucycoats.com) studied English and Ancient History at Edinburgh University, then worked in children’s publishing and now writes full-time. She is a gifted children’s poet and has also written several picture book texts. She is widely respected for her lively retellings of myths. Her twelve-book series, Greek Beasts and Heroes, was published by Orion in the U.K. Beasts of Olympus is her first U.S. publication. You can also follow her on Twitter @lucycoats. Brett Bean has created art for TV, film, games, and books for clients such as Nickelodeon, Disney TV, Leapfrog, and Nerd Corps. He is working on his fifth art book, a graphic novel short story collection. Demon first found out about his latest Important Visitor when he heard Melanie the naiad shriek. He dropped his shovel in the poo barrow and rushed over to the spring outside the Stables of the Gods to see what was happening. Melanie stood shivering and curtsying at the side of her spring, her long blue hair streaming down her back. In the middle of the water stood a huge bearded figure wearing a crown of jeweled seashells. He held a large golden trident in his left hand. “Pah!” he spat, wringing out his robes and striding up to Demon. “Freshwater. Mimsy-flimsy stuff. Give me a pool of salty sea brine any day.” Demon’s heart sank into his sandals as he bowed low. An early morning visit from a god was never good news—and this was Zeus’s own brother. What could Poseidon, god of the sea, want with him at this hour? “How can I help you, Your Watery Wondrousness?” he asked. “Ha!” said Poseidon, bringing his hand down on Demon’s shoulder so hard, the young boy fell on his backside in the dust. “Watery Wondrousness. I like it. Up you get, now, stable boy. I need to talk to you.” He reached down and offered a hand wearing a glove that seemed to be made of sapphires the size and shape of barnacles. Demon took the hand cautiously. It felt cold and rather wet, and the jewel barnacles scraped his fingers, but he didn’t say anything. It was best not to with gods. They took offense very easily, he’d found, and that could lead to Bad Things. Poseidon was looking around him. The nine green heads of Doris the Hydra were peering shyly around the Stables’ door, long eyelashes fluttering. Demon could see the griffin lurking behind them. “That the beastie you cured for Hera?” the god asked. “Looks pretty healthy to me.” “Yes, Your Serene Saltiness,” said Demon. “It helps me out around the Stables now.” Doris fluttered its eighteen sets of eyelashes and rattled its buckets. “Snackies?” Doris asked hopefully. Demon ignored it. He’d only just cured its bellyache from eating too much ambrosia cake, and he wasn’t risking a repeat. “Show me around, stable boy,” said Poseidon. Demon took the god up and down the stalls. He warned him politely not to poke at the giant scorpion with the pointy end of his trident, and explained about the Cattle of the Sun not being able to eat ambrosia cake because of the terrible gas it gave them. By the time they’d almost finished, Demon was feeling a bit more optimistic. Poseidon seemed much friendlier than the scary Hera, and a lot nicer than sinister Hades. Demon shivered, remembering his recent trip down to the Underworld to save the life of Hades’s great beastdog, Cerberus. He’d only just escaped being eaten by the King of Death’s skeleton dragons, thanks to the help of Hermes, the gods’ chief messenger. Stopping at the last pen, he gestured at the creatures within. “These are the Ethiopian winged horses, Your Royal Godnificence,” he said, patting the shiny golden horns in the middle of the boss horse’s forehead. “I fly out on Keith here most days—they need a lot of exercise to keep their wings strong.” Keith neighed enthusiastically. “What do you know of Hippocamps, stable boy?” Poseidon asked abruptly. Demon racked his brain. Hippocamps? What in the name of Zeus’s toenails were they? “I-I-I’ve never met one, Your Outstanding Oceanosity,” he said. “No. I suppose you wouldn’t have. I don’t bring them up here much—no proper seawater, you see.” He clapped his hands together. “You’ll just have to come back to the Stables of the Ocean with me and examine them. Their scales are all falling off, and none of my sea people seem to know why.” Demon gulped and turned pale. He didn’t know what to do. How could he leave his own Stables again? If there was no one to clean them out and look after the beasts, the whole of Olympus would smell of poo. Then the goddesses would get furious and turn him into