Nereid counselor

“What did you do with the regular counselor?” I asked.
Eudora waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry about her. She couldn’t help you with New Rome. That’s why I’m here!”
Something about her tone made me feel . . . not reassured, exactly, but at least not personally threatened. Maybe she only ate other guidance counselors.
Her presence felt familiar, too—the salty tingle in my nostrils, the pressure in my ears as if I were a thousand feet underwater. I realized I’d encountered someone like her before, when I was twelve years old, at the bottom of the Mississippi River.
“You’re a sea spirit,” I said. “A Nereid.”
Eudora chuckled. “Yes, of course, Percy. Did you think I was a dryad?”
“So . . . my father sent you?”
She raised an eyebrow, as if she was starting to worry I might be a bit slow on the uptake. Weirdly, I get that look a lot.
“Yes, dear. Poseidon. Your father? My boss?”

CotG pg.11