"Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III," Percy paused, then added with a small shrug. "Of Whitestone." He doubted that this man who spoke of California would have heard of Whitestone, and if this was a trick of the green dragon's, he already knew that answer.

Finally, Percy realized that through the rain there was a massive hulking building with the most extraordinary architecture. It was astonishingly ugly, a hodgepodge of design that never really settled on one style. "I take it that's the shitty hotel?"