The Battle of The Labyrinth

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CHAPTER TWELVE: I TAKE A PERMANENT VACATION

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I woke up feeling like I was still on fire. My skin stung. My throat felt as

dry as sand.

I saw blue sky and trees above me. I heard a fountain gurgling, and

smelled juniper and cedar and a bunch of other sweet-scented plants. I heard

waves, too, gently lapping on a rocky shore. I wondered if I was dead, but I

knew better. I’d been to the Land of the Dead, and there was no blue sky.

I tried to sit up. My muscles felt like they were melting.

“Stay still,” a girl’s voice said. “You’re too weak to rise.”

She laid a cool cloth across my forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over

me and liquid was dribbled into my mouth. The drink soothed my throat and

left a warm chocolaty aftertaste. Nectar of the gods. Then the girl’s face

appeared above me.

She had almond eyes and caramel-color hair braided over one shoulder.

She was…fifteen? Sixteen? It was hard to tell. She had one of those faces

that just seemed timeless. She began singing, and my pain dissolved. She

was working magic. I could feel her music sinking into my skin, healing and

repairing my brain.

“Who?” I croaked.

“Shhh, brave one,” she said. “Rest and heal. No harm will come to you

here. I am Calypso.”

* * *

The next time I woke I was in a cave, but as far as caves go, I’d been in a

lot worse. The ceiling glittered with different-color crystal formations—

white and purple and green, like I was inside one of those cut geodes you see

in souvenir shops. I was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and

cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains.

Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp. Against the other wall were

shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the

ceiling: rosemary, thyme, and a bunch of other stuff. My mother could’ve

named them all.

There was a fireplace built into the cave wall, and a pot bubbling over the

flames. It smelled great, like beef stew.

I sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. I looked at my

arms, sure that they would be hideously scarred, but they seemed fine. A

little pinker than usual, but not bad. I was wearing a white cotton T-shirt and

cotton drawstring pants that weren’t mine. My feet were bare. In a moment

of panic, I wondered what happened to Riptide, but I felt my pocket and

there was my pen, right where it always reappeared.

Not only that but the Stygian ice dog whistle was back in my pocket, too.

Somehow it had followed me. And that didn’t exactly reassure me.

With difficulty, I stood. The stone floor was freezing under my feet. I

turned and found myself staring into a polished bronze mirror.

“Holy Poseidon,” I muttered. I looked as if I’d lost twenty pounds I

couldn’t afford to lose. My hair was a rat’s nest. It was singed at the edges

like Hephaestus’s beard. If I saw that face on somebody walking down a

highway intersection asking for money, I would’ve locked the car doors.

I turned away from the mirror. The cave entrance was to my left. I headed

toward the daylight.

The cave opened onto a green meadow. On the left was a grove of cedar

trees and on the right a huge flower garden. Four fountains gurgled in the

meadow, each shooting water from the pipes of stone satyrs. Straight ahead,

the grass sloped down to a rocky beach. The waves of a lake lapped against

the stones. I could tell it was a lake because…well, I just could. Fresh water.

Not salt. The sun sparkled on the water, and the sky was pure blue. It

seemed like a paradise, which immediately made me nervous. You deal with

mythological stuff for a few years, you learn that paradises are usually

places where you get killed.

The girl with the braided caramel hair, the one who’d called herself

Calypso, was standing at the beach, talking to someone. I couldn’t see him

very well in the shimmer from the sunlight off the water, but they appeared

to be arguing. I tried to remember what I knew about Calypso from the old

myths. I’d heard the name before, but…I couldn’t remember. Was she a

monster? Did she trap heroes and kill them? But if she was evil, why was I

still alive?

I walked toward her slowly because my legs were still stiff. When the

grass changed to gravel, I looked down to keep my balance, and when I

looked up again, the girl was alone. She wore a white sleeveless Greek dress

with a low circular neckline trimmed in gold. She brushed at her eyes like

she’d been crying.

“Well,” she said, trying for a smile, “the sleeper finally wakes.”

“Who were you talking to?” My voice sounded like a frog that had spent

time in a microwave.

“Oh…just a messenger,” she said. “How do you feel?”

“How long have I been out?”

“Time,” Calypso mused. “Time is always difficult here. I honestly don’t

know, Percy.”

“You know my name?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

I blushed. “Yeah. I’ve been…uh, told that before.”

“Yes. Who is Annabeth?”

“Oh, uh. A friend. We were together when—wait, how did I get here?

Where am I?”

Calypso reached up and ran her fingers through my mangled hair. I

stepped back nervously.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just grown used to caring for you. as to how

you got here, you fell from the sky. You landed in the water, just there.” She

pointed across the beach. “I do not know how you survived. The water

seemed to cushion your fall. As to where you are, you are in Ogygia.”

She pronounced it like oh-jee-jee-ah.

“Is that near Mount St. Helens?” I asked, because my geography is pretty

terrible.

Calypso laughed. It was a small restrained laugh, like she found me really

funny but didn’t want to embarrass me. She was cute when she laughed.

“It isn’t near anything, brave one,” she said. “Ogygia is my phantom

island. It exists by itself, anywhere and nowhere. You can heal here in safety.

Never fear.”

“But my friends—”

“Annabeth,” she said. “And Grover and Tyson?”

“Yes!” I said. “I have to get back to them. They’re in danger.

She touched my face, and I didn’t back away this time. “Rest first. You

are no good to your friends until you heal.”

As soon as she said it, I realized how tired I was. “You’re not…you’re not

an evil sorceress, are you?”

She smiled coyly. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, I met Circe once, and she had a pretty nice island, too. Except she

liked to turn men into guinea pigs.”

Calypso gave me that laugh again. “I promise I will not turn you into a

guinea pig.”

“Or anything else?”

“I am no evil sorceress,” Calypso said. “And I am not your enemy, brave

one. Now rest. Your eyes are already closing.”

She was right. My knees buckled, and I would’ve landed face-first in the

gravel if Calypso hadn’t caught me. Her hair smelled like cinnamon. She

was very strong, or maybe I was just really weak and thin. She walked me

back to a cushioned bench by the fountain and helped me lie down.

“Rest,” she ordered. And I fell asleep to the sound of the fountains and the

smell of cinnamon and juniper.

* * *

The next time I woke it was night, but I wasn’t sure if it was the same

night or many nights later. I was in the bed in the cave, but I rose and

wrapped a robe around myself and padded outside. The stars were

brilliant—thousands of them, like you only see way out in the country. I

could make out all the constellations Annabeth had taught me: Capricorn,

Pegasus, Sagittarius. And there, near the southern horizon, was a new

constellation: the Huntress, a tribute to a friend of ours who had died last

winter.

“Percy, what do you see?”

I brought my eyes back to earth. However amazing the stars were,

Calypso was twice as brilliant. I mean, I’ve seen the goddess of love herself,

Aphrodite, and I would never say this out loud or she’d blast me to ashes,

but for my money, Calypso was a lot more beautiful, because she just

seemed so natural, like she wasn’t trying to be beautiful and didn’t even care

about that. She just was. With her braided hair and white dress, she seemed

to glow in the moonlight. She was holding a tiny plant in her hands. Its

flowers were silver and delicate.

“I was just looking at…” I found myself staring at her face. “Uh…I

forgot.”

She laughed gently. “Well, as long as you’re up, you can help me plant

these.”

She handed me a plant, which had a clump of dirt and roots at the base.

The flowers glowed as I held them. Calypso picked up her gardening spade

and directed me to the edge of the garden, where she began to dig.

“That’s moonlace,” Calypso explained. “It can only be planted at night.”

I watched the silvery light flicker around the petals. “What does it do?”

“Do?” Calypso mused. “It doesn’t really do anything, I suppose. It lives, it

gives light, it provides beauty. Does it have to do anything else?”

“I suppose not,” I said.

She took the plant, and our hands met. Her fingers were warm. She

planted the moonlace and stepped back, surveying her work. “I love my

garden.”

“It’s awesome,” I agreed. I mean, I wasn’t exactly a gardening type, but

Calypso had arbors covered with six different colors of roses, lattices filled

with honeysuckle, rows of grapevines bursting with red and purple grapes

that would’ve made Dionysus sit up and beg.

“Back home,” I said, “my mom always wanted a garden.”

“Why did she not plant one?”

“Well, we live in Manhattan. In an apartment.”

“Manhattan? Apartment?”

I stared at her. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I fear not. I haven’t left Ogygia in…a long time.”

“Well, Manhattan’s a big city, with not much gardening space.”

Calypso frowned. “That is sad. Hermes visits from time to time. He tells

me the world outside has changed greatly. I did not realize it had changed so

much you cannot have gardens.”

“Why haven’t you left your island?”

She looked down. “It is my punishment.”

“Why? What did you do?”

“I? Nothing. But I’m afraid my father did a great deal. His name is Atlas.”

The name sent a shiver down my back. I’d met the Titan Atlas last winter,

and it had not been a happy time. He’d tried to kill pretty much everyone I

care about.

“Still,” I said hesitantly, “it’s not fair to punish you for what your father’s

done. I knew another daughter of Atlas. Her name was Zoë. She was one of

the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

Calypso studied me for a long time. Her eyes were sad.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Are—are you healed yet, my brave one? Do you think you’ll be ready to

leave soon?”

“What? I asked. “I don’t know.” I moved my legs. They were still stiff. I

was already getting dizzy from standing up so long. “You want me to go?”

“I…” Her voice broke. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

She ran off toward the beach. I was too confused to do anything but watch

until she disappeared in the dark.

* * *

I don’t know exactly how much time passed. Like Calypso said, it was

hard to keep track on the island. I knew I should be leaving. At the very least,

my friends would be worried. At worst, they could be in serious danger. I

didn’t even know if Annabeth had made it out of the volcano. I tried to use

my empathy link with Grover several times, but I couldn’t make contact. I

hated not knowing if they were all right.

On the other hand, I really was weak. I couldn’t stay on my feet more than

a few hours. Whatever I’d done in Mount St. Helens had drained me like

nothing else I’d ever expected.

I didn’t feel like a prisoner or anything. I remembered the Lotus Hotel and

Casino in Vegas, where I’d been lured into this amazing game world until I

almost forgot everything I cared about. But the island of Ogygia wasn’t like

that at all. I thought about Annabeth, Grover, and Tyson constantly. I

remembered exactly why I needed to leave. I just…couldn’t. and then there

was Calypso herself.

She never talked much about herself, but that just made me want to know

more. I would sit in the meadow, sipping nectar, and I would try to

concentrate on the flowers or the clouds or the reflections on the lake, but I

was really staring at Calypso as she worked, the way she brushed her hair

over her shoulder, and the little strand that fell in her face whenever she

knelt to dig in the garden. Sometimes she would hold out her hand and birds

would fly out of the woods to settle on her arm—lorikeets, parrots, doves.

She would tell them good morning, ask how it was going back at the nest,

and they would chirp for a while, then fly off cheerfully. Calypso’s eyes

gleamed. She would look at me and we’d share a smile, but almost

immediately she’d get that sad expression again and turn away. I didn’t

understand what was bothering her.

One night we were eating dinner together at the beach. Invisible servants

had set up a table with beef stew and apple cider, which may not sound all

that exciting, but that’s because you haven’t tasted it. I hadn’t even noticed

the invisible servants when I first got to the island, but that’s because you

haven’t tasted it. I hadn’t even noticed the invisible servants when I first got

to the island, but after a while I became aware of the beds making

themselves, meals cooking on their own, clothes being washed and folded by

unseen hands.

Anyway, Calypso and I were sitting at dinner, and she looked beautiful in

the candlelight. I was telling her about New York and Camp Half-Blood,

and then I started telling her about the time Grover had eaten an apple while

we were playing Hacky Sack with it. She laughed, showing off her amazing

smile, and our eyes met. Then she dropped her gaze.

“There it is again,” I said.

“What?”

“You keep pulling away, like you’re trying not to enjoy yourself.”

She kept her eyes on her glass of cider. “As I told you, Percy, I have been

punished. Cursed, you might say.”

“How? Tell me. I want to help.”

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

“Tell me what the punishment is.”

She covered her half-finished stew with a napkin, and immediately an

invisible servant whisked the bowl away. “Percy, this island, Ogygia, is my

home, my birthplace. But it is also my prison. I am under…house arrest, I

guess you would call it. I will never visit this Manhattan of yours. Or

anywhere else. I am alone here.”

“Because your father was Atlas.”

She nodded. “The gods do not trust their enemies. And rightly so. I should

not complain. Some of the prisons are not nearly as nice as mine.”

“But that’s not fair,” I said. “Just because you’re related doesn’t mean you

support him. This other daughter I knew, Zoë, Nightshade—she fought

against him. She wasn’t imprisoned.”

“But, Percy,” Calypso said gently, “I did support him in the first war. He

is my father.”

“What? But the Titans are evil!”

“Are they? All of them? All the time?” She pursed her lips. “Tell me,

Percy. I have no wish to argue with you. but do you support the gods

because they are good, or because they are your family?”

I didn’t answer. She had a point. Last winter, after Annabeth and I had

saved Olympus, the gods had had a debate about whether or not they should

kill me. That hadn’t been exactly good. But still, I felt like I supported them

because Poseidon was my dad.

“Perhaps I was wrong in the war,” Calypso said. “And in fairness, the

gods have treated me well. They visit me from time to time. They bring me

word of the outside world. But they can leave. And I cannot.”

“You don’t have any friends?” I asked. “I mean…wouldn’t anyone else

live here with you? it’s a nice place.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “I…I promised myself I wouldn’t speak

of this. But—”

She was interrupted by a rumbling sound somewhere out on the lake. A

glow appeared on the horizon. It got brighter and brighter, until I could see a

column of fire moving across the surface of the water, coming toward us.

I stood and reached for my sword. “What is that?”

Calypso sighed. “A visitor.”

As the column of fire reached the beach. Calypso stood and bowed to it

formally. The flames dissipated, and standing before us was a tall man in

gray overalls and a metal leg brace, his beard and hair smoldering with fire.

“Lord Hephaestus,” Calypso said. “This is a rare honor.”

The fire god grunted. “Calypso. Beautiful as always. Would you excuse

us, please, my dear? I need to have a word with our young Percy Jackson.”

* * *

Hephaestus sat down clumsily at the dinner table and ordered a Pepsi. The

invisible servant brought him one, opened it too suddenly, and sprayed soda

all over the gods work clothes. Hephaestus roared and spat a few curses and

swatted the can away.

“Stupid servants,” he muttered. “Good automatons are what she needs.

They never act up!”

“Hephaestus,” I said, “what’s going on? Is Annabeth—”

“She’s fine,” he said. “Resourceful girl, that one. Found her way back,

told me the whole story. She’s worried sick, you know.”

“You haven’t told her I’m okay?”

“That’s not for me to say,” Hephaestus said. “Everyone thinks you’re

dead. I had to be sure you were coming back before I s tarted telling

everyone where you were.”

“What do you mean?” I said. “Of course I’m coming back!”

Hephaestus studied me skeptically. He fished something out of his

pocket—a metal disk the size of an iPod. He clicked a button and it

expanded into a miniature bronze TV. On the screen was news footage of

Mount St. Helens, a huge plume of fire and ash trailing into the sky.

“Still uncertain about further eruptions,” the newscaster was saying.

“Authorities have ordered the evacuation of almost half a million people as

a precaution. Meanwhile, ash has fallen as far away as Lake Tahoe and

Vancouver, and the entire Mount St. Helens area is closed to traffic within a

hundred-mile radius. While no deaths have been reported, minor injuries

and illnesses include—”

Hephaestus switched it off. “You caused quite an explosion.”

I stared at the blank bronze screen. Half a million people evacuated?

Injuries. Illness. What had I done?

“The telekhines were scattered,” the god told me. “Some vaporized. Some

got away, no doubt. I don’t think they’ll be using my forge any time soon.

On the other hand, neither will I. the explosion caused Typon to stir in his

sleep. We’ll have to wait and see—”

“I couldn’t release him, could I? I mean, I’m not that powerful!”

The god grunted. “Not that powerful, eh? Could have fooled me. You’re

the son of the Earthshaker, lad. You don’t know your own strength.”

That’s the last thing I wanted him to say. I hadn’t been in control of

myself in that mountain. I’d released so much energy I’d almost vaporized

myself, drained all the life out of me. Now I found out I’d nearly destroyed

the Northwest U.S. and almost woken the most horrible monster ever

imprisoned by the gods. Maybe I was too dangerous. Maybe it was safer for

my friends to think I was dead.

“What about Grover and Tyson?” I asked.

Hephaestus shook his head. “No word, I’m afraid. I suppose the labyrinth

has them.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

Hephaestus winced. “Don’t ever ask an old cripple for advice, lad. But I’ll

tell you this. You’ve met my wife?”

“Aphrodite.”

“That’s her. She’s a tricky one, ad. Be careful of love. It’ll twist your

brain around and leave you thinking up is down and right is wrong.”

I thought about my meeting with Aphrodite, in the back of a white

Cadillac in the desert last winter. She’d told me that she had taken a special

interest in me, and she’d be making things hard for me in the romance

department, just because she liked me.

“Is this part of her plan?” I asked. “Did she land me here?”

“Possibly. Hard to say with her. But if you decide to leave this place—and

I don’t say what’s right or wrong—then I promised you an answer to your

quest. I promised you the way to Daedalus. Well now, here’s the thing. It

has nothing to do with Ariadne’s string. Not really. Sure, the string work.

That’s what the Titan’s army will be after. Btu the best way through the

maze…Theseus had the princess’s help. And the princess was a regular

mortal. Not a drop of god blood in her. But she was clever, and she could see,

lad. She could see very clearly. So what I’m saying—I think you know how

to navigate the maze.”

It finally sank in. why hadn’t I seen it before? Hera had been right. The

answer was there all the time.

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then you’ll need to decide whether or not you’re leaving.”

“I…” I wanted to say yes. Of course I would. But the words stuck in my

throat. I found myself looking out at the lake, and suddenly the idea of

leaving seemed very hard.

“Don’t decide yet,” Hephaestus advised. “Wait until daybreak. Daybreak

is a good time for decisions.”

“Will Daedalus even help us?” I asked. “I mean, if he gives Luke a way to

navigate the Labyrinth, we’re dead. I saw dreams about…Daedalus killed

his nephew. He turned bitter and angry and—”

“It isn’t easy being a brilliant inventor,” Hephaestus rumbled. “Always

alone. Always misunderstood. Easy to turn bitter, make horrible mistakes.

People are more difficult to work with than machines. And when you break

a person, he can’t be fixed.”

Hephaestus brushed the last drops of Pepsi off his work clothes.

“Daedalus started well enough. He helped the Princess Ariadne and Theseus

because he felt sorry for them. He tried to do a good deed. And everything in

his life went bad because of it. Was that fair?” The god shrugged. “I don’t

know if Daedalus will help you, lad, but don’t judge someone until you’ve

stood at his forge and worked with his hammer, eh?”

“I’ll—I’ll try.”

Hephaestus stood. “Good-bye, lad. You did well, destroying the

telekhines. I’ll always remember you for that.”

It sounded very final, that good-bye. Then he erupted into a column of

flame, and the fire moved over the water, heading back to the world outside.

* * *

I walked along the beach for several hours. When I finally came back to

the meadow, it was very late, maybe four or five in the morning, but Calypso

was still in her garden, tending the flowers by starlight. Her moonlace

glowed silver, and the other plants responded to the magic, glowing red and

yellow and blue.

“He has ordered you to return,” Calypso guessed.

“Well, not ordered. He gave me a choice.”

Her eyes met mine. “I promised I would not offer.”

“Offer what?”

“For you to stay.”

“Stay,” I said. “Like…forever?”

“You would be immortal on this island,” she said quietly. “You would

never age or die. You could leave the fight to others, Percy Jackson. You

could escape your prophecy.”

I stared at her, stunned. “Just like that?”

She nodded. “Just like that.”

“But…my friends.”

Calypso rose and took my hand. Her touch sent a warm current through

my body. “You asked about my curse, Percy. I did not want to tell you. the

truth is the gods send me companionship from time to time. Every thousand

years or so, they allow a hero to wash up on my shores, someone who needs

my help. I tend to him and befriend him, but it is never random. The Fates

make sure that the sort of hero they send…”

Her voice trembled, and she had to stop.

I squeezed her hand tighter. “What? What have I done to make you sad?”

“They send a person who can never stay,” she whispered. “Who can never

accept my offer of companionship for more than a little while. They send me

a hero I can’t help…just the sort of person I can’t help falling in love with.”

The night was quiet except for the gurgle of the fountains and waves

lapping on the shore. It took me a long time to realize what she was saying.

“Me?” I asked.

“If you could see your face.” She suppressed a smile, though her eyes

were still teary. “Of course, you.”

“That’s why you’ve been pulling away all this time?”

“I tried very hard. But I can’t help it. The Fates are cruel. They sent you to

me, my brave one, knowing that you would break my heart.”

“But…I’m just…I mean, I’m just me.”

“That is enough,” Calypso promised. “I told myself I would not even

speak of this. I would let you go without even offering. But I can’t. I

suppose the Fates knew that, too. You could stay with me, Percy. I’m afraid

that is the only way you could help me.”

I stared at the horizon. The first red streaks of dawn were lightening the

sky. I could stay here forever, disappear from the earth. I could live with

Calypso, with invisible servants tending to my every need. We could grow

flowers in the garden and talk to songbirds and walk on the beach under

perfect blue skies. No war. No prophecy. No more taking sides.

“I can’t,” I told her.

She looked down sadly.

“I would never do anything to hurt you,” I said, “but my friends need me.

I know how to help them now. I have to get back.”

She picked a flower from her garden—a sprig of silver moonlace. Its glow

faded as the sunrise came up. Daybreak is a good time for decisions,

Hephaestus had said. Calypso tucked the flower into my T-shirt pocket.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the forehead, like a blessing.

“Then come to the beach, my hero. And we will send you on your way.”

* * *

The raft was a ten-foot square of logs lashed together with a pole for a

mast and a simple white linen sail. It didn’t look like it would be very

seaworthy, or lakeworthy.

“This will take you wherever you desire,” Calypso promised. “It is quite

safe.”

I took her hand, but she let it slip out of mine.

“Maybe I can visit you,” I said.

She shook her head. “No man ever finds Ogygia twice, Percy. When you

leave, I will never see you again.”

“But—”

“Go, please.” Her voice broke. “The Fates are cruel, Percy. Just remember

me.” Then a little trace of her smile returned. “Plant a garden in Manhattan

for me, will you?”

“I promise.” I stepped onto the raft. Immediately it began to sail from the

shore.

As I sailed onto the lake I realized the Fates really were cruel. They sent

Calypso someone she couldn’t help but love. But it worked both ways. For

the rest of my life I would always be thinking about her. She would always

be my biggest what if.

Within minutes the island of Ogygia was lost in the mist. I was sailing

alone over the water toward the sunrise.

Then I told the raft what to do. I said the only place I could think of,

because I needed comfort and friends.

“Camp Half-Blood,” I said. “Sail me home.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: WE HIRE A NEW GUIDE

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Hours later, my raft washed up at Camp Half-Blood. How I got there, I

have no idea. At some point the lake water just changed to salt water. The

familiar shoreline of Long Island appeared up ahead, and a couple of

friendly great white sharks surfaced and steered me toward the beach.

When I landed, the camp seemed deserted. It was late afternoon, but the

archery range was empty. The climbing wall poured lava and rumbled all by

itself. Pavilion: nothing. Cabins: all vacant. Then I noticed smoke rising

from the amphitheater. Too early for a campfire, and I didn’t figure they

were roasting marshmallows. I ran toward it.

Before I even got there I heard Chiron making an announcement. When I

realized what he was saying, I stopped dead in my tracks.

“—assume he is dead,” Chiron said. “After so long a silence, it is unlikely

our prayers will be answered. I have asked his best surviving friend to do the

final honors.”

I came up on the back of the amphitheater. Nobody noticed me. They

were all looking forward, watching as Annabeth took a long green silk burial

cloth, embroidered with a trident, and set it on the flames. They were

burning my shroud.

Annabeth turned to face the audience. She looked terrible. Her eyes were

puffy from crying, but she managed to say, “He was probably the bravest

friend I’ve ever had. He…” Then she saw me. Her face went blood red.

“He’s right there!”

Heads turned. People gasped.

“Percy!” Beckendorf grinned. A bunch of other kids crowded around me

and clapped me on the back. I heard a few curses from the Ares cabin, but

Clarisse just rolled her eyes, like she couldn’t believe I’d had the nerve to

survive. Chiron cantered over and everyone made way for him.

“Well,” he sighed with obvious relief. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been

happier to see a camper return. But you must tell me—”

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” Annabeth interrupted, shoving aside the

other campers. I thought she was going to punch me, but instead she hugged

me so fiercely she nearly cracked my ribs. The other campers fell silent.

Annabeth seemed to realize she was making a scene and pushed me away.

“I—we thought you were dead, Seaweed Brain!”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I got lost.”

“LOST?” she yelled. “Two weeks, Percy? Where in the world—”

“Annabeth,” Chiron interrupted. “Perhaps we should discuss this

somewhere more private, shall we? The rest of you, back to your normal

activities!”

Without waiting for us to protest, he picked up Annabeth and me as easily

as if we were kittens, slung us both on his back, and galloped off toward the

Big House.

* * *

I didn’t tell them the whole story. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk

about Calypso. I explained how I’d caused the explosion at Mount St.

Helens and gotten blasted out of the volcano. I told them I’d been marooned

on an island. Then Hephaestus had found me and told me I could leave. A

magic raft had carried me back to camp.

All that was true, but as I said it my palms felt sweaty.

“You’ve been gone two weeks.” Annabeth’s voice was steadier now, but

she still looked pretty shaken up. “When I heard the explosion, I thought—”

“I know,” I said. “I’m sorry. But I figured out how to get through the

Labyrinth. I talked to Hephaestus.”

“He told you the answer?”

“Well, he sort of told me that I already knew. And I do. I understand

now.”

I told them my idea.

Annabeth’s jaw dropped. “Percy, that’s crazy!”

Chiron sat back in his wheelchair and stroked his beard. “There is

precedent, however. Theseus had the help of Ariadne. Harriet Tubman,

daughter of Hermes, used many mortals on her Underground Railroad for

just this reason.”

“But this is my quest,” Annabeth said. “I need to lead it.”

Chiron looked uncomfortable. “My dear, it is your quest. But you need

help.”

“And this is supposed to help? Please! It’s wrong. It’s cowardly. It’s—”

“Hard to admit we need a mortal’s help,” I said. “But it’s true.”

Annabeth glared at me. “You are the single most annoying person I have

ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being

the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

“She will calm down,” Chiron promised. “She’s jealous, my boy.”

“That’s stupid. She’s not…it’s not like…”

Chiron chuckled. “It hardly matters. Annabeth is very territorial about her

friends, in case you haven’t noticed. She was quite worried about you. And

now that you’re back, I think she suspects where you were marooned.”

I met his eyes, and I knew Chiron had guessed about Calypso. It was hard

to hide anything from a guy who’s been training heroes for three thousand

years. He’s pretty much seen it all.

“We won’t dwell on your choices,” Chiron said. “You came back. That is

what matters.”

“Tell that to Annabeth.”

Chiron smiled. “In the morning I will have Argus take the two of you into

Manhattan. You might stop by your mother’s, Percy. She

is…understandably distraught.”

My heart skipped a beat. All that time on Calypso’s island, I’d never even

thought how my mom would be feeling. She’d think I was dead. She’d be

devastated. What was wrong with me that I hadn’t even considered that?

“Chiron,” I said, “what about Grover and Tyson? Do you think—”

“I don’t know, my boy.” Chiron gazed into the empty fireplace. “Juniper

is quite distressed. All her branches are turning yellow. The Council of

Cloven Elders had revoked Grover’s searcher license in absentia. Assuming

he comes back alive, they will force him into a shameful exile.” He sighed.

“Grover and Tyson are very resourceful, however. We can still hope.”

“I shouldn’t have let them run off.”

“Grover has his own destiny, and Tyson was brave to follow him. You

would know if Grover was in mortal danger, don’t you think?”

“I suppose. The empathy link. But—”

“There is something else I should tell you, Percy,” he said. “Actually two

unpleasant things.”

“Great.”

“Chris Rodriguez, our guest…”

I remembered what I’d seen in the basement, Clarisse trying to talk to him

while he babbled about the Labyrinth. “Is he dead?”

“Not yet,” Chiron said grimly. “But he’s much worse. He’s in the

infirmary now, too weak to move. I had to order Clarisse back to her regular

schedule, because she was at his bedside constantly. He doesn’t respond to

anything. He won’t take food or drink. None of my medicines help. He has

simply lost the will to live.”

I shuddered. Despite all the run-ins I’d had with Clarisse, I felt horrible

for her. She’d tried so hard to help him. And now that I’d been in the

Labyrinth, I could understand why it had been so easy for the ghost of Minos

to drive Chris mad. If I’d been wandering around down there alone, without

my friends to help, I’d never have made it out.

“I’m sorry to say,” Chiron continued, “the other news is less pleasant still.

Quintus has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? How?”

“Three nights ago he slipped into the Labyrinth. Juniper watched him go.

It appears you may have been right about him.”

“He’s a spy for Luke.” I told Chiron about the Triple G Ranch—how

Quintus had bought his scorpions there and Geryon had been supplying

Kronos’s army. “It can’t be a coincidence.”

Chiron sighed heavily. “So many betrayals. I had hoped Quintus would

prove a friend. It seems my judgment was bad.”

“What about Mrs. O’Leary?” I asked.

“The hellhound is still in the arena. It won’t let anyone approach. I did not

have the heart to force it into a cage…or destroy it.”

“Quintus wouldn’t just leave her.”

“As I said, Percy, we seem to have been wrong about him. Now, you

should prepare yourself for the morning. You and Annabeth still have much

to do.”

I left him in his wheelchair, staring sadly into the fireplace. I wondered

how many times he’d sat here, waiting for heroes that never came back.

* * *

Before dinner I stopped by the sword arena. Sure enough, Mrs. O’Leary

was curled up in an enormous black furry mound in the middle of the

stadium, chewing halfheartedly on the head of a warrior dummy.

When she saw me, she barked and came bounding toward me. I thought I

was dead meat. I just had time to say, “Whoa!” before she bowled me over

and started licking my face. Now usually, being the son of Poseidon and all,

I only get wet if I want to, but my powers apparently did not extend to dog

saliva, because I got a pretty good bath.

“Whoa, girl!” I yelled. “Can’t breathe. Lemme up!”

Eventually I managed to get her off me. I scratched her ears and found her

an extra-gigantic dog biscuit.

“Where’s your master?” I asked. Her. “How could he just leave you,

huh?”

She whimpered like she wanted to know that, too. I was ready to believe

Quintus was an enemy, but still I couldn’t understand why he’d leave Mrs.

O’Leary behind. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was that he really

cared for his megadog.

I was thinking about that and toweling the dog spit off my face when a

girl’s voice said, “You’re lucky she didn’t bite your head off.”

Clarisse was standing at the other end of the arena with her sword and

shield. “Came here to practice yesterday,” she grumbled. “Dog tried to chew

me up.”

“She’s an intelligent dog,” I said.

“Funny.”

She walked toward us. Mrs. O’Leary growled, but I patted her on the head

and calmed her down.

“Stupid hellhound,” Clarisse said. “Not going to keep me from

practicing.”

“I heard about Chris,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

Clarisse paced a circle around the arena. When she came to the nearest

dummy, she attacked viciously, chopping its head off with a single blow and

driving her sword through its guts. She pulled the sword out and kept

walking.

“Yeah, well. Sometimes things go wrong.” Her voice was shaky. “Heroes

get hurt. They…they die, and the monsters just keep coming back.”

She picked up a javelin and threw it across the arena. It nailed a dummy

straight between the eyeholes of its helmet.

She had called Chris a hero, like he had never gone over to the Titan’s

side. It reminded me of the way Annabeth sometimes talked about Luke. I

decided not to bring that up.

“Chris was brave,” I said. “I hope he gets better.”

She glared at me as if I were her next target. Mrs. O’Leary growled.

“Do me a favor,” Clarisse told me.

“Yeah, sure.”

“If you find Daedalus, don’t trust him. Don’t ask him for help. Just kill

him.”

“Clarisse—”

“Because anybody who can make something like the Labyrinth, Percy?

That person is evil. Plain evil.”

For a second she reminded me of Eurytion the cowherd, her much older

half brother. She had the same hard look in her eyes, as if she’d been used

for the past two thousand years and was getting tired of it. She sheathed her

sword. “Practice time is over. From now on, it’s for real.”

* * *

That night I slept in my own bunk, and for the first time since Calypso’s

Island, dreams found me.

I was in a king’s courtroom—a big white chamber with marble columns

and a wooden throne. Sitting on it was a plump guy with curly red hair and a

crown of laurels. At his side stood three girls who looked like his daughters.

They all had his red hair and were dressed in blue robes.

The doors creaked open and a herald announced, “Minos, King of Crete!”

I tensed, but the man on the throne just smiled at his daughters. “I can’t

wait to see the expression on his face.”

Minos, the royal creep himself, swept into the room. He was so tall and

serious he made the other king look silly. Minos’s pointed beard had gone

gray. He looked thinner than the last time I’d dreamed of him, and his

sandals were splattered with mud, but the same cruel light shined in his eyes.

He bowed stiffly to the man on the throne. “King Cocalus. I understand

you have solved my little riddle?”

Cocalus smiled. “Hardly little, Minos. Especially when you advertise

across the world that you are willing to pay a thousand gold talents to the

one who can solve it. Is the offer genuine?”

Minos clapped his hands. Two buff guards walked in, struggling with a

big wooden crate. They set it at Cocalus’s feet and opened it. Stacks of gold

bars glittered. It had to be worth like a gazillion dollars.

Cocalus whistled appreciatively. “You must have bankrupted your

kingdom for such a reward, my friend.”

“That is not your concern.”

Cocalus shrugged. “The riddle was quite simple, really. One of my

retainers solved it.”

“Father,” one of the girls warned. She looked like the oldest—a little taller

than her sisters.

Cocalus ignored her. He took a spiral seashell from the folds of his robe.

A silver string had been threaded through it, so it hung like a huge bead on a

necklace.

Minos stepped forward and took the shell. “One of your retainers, you say?

How did he thread the string without breaking the shell?”

“He used an ant, if you can believe it. Tied a silk string to the little

creature and coaxed it through the shell by putting honey at the far end.”

“Ingenious man,” Minos said.

“Oh, indeed. My daughters’ tutor. They are quite fond of him.”

Minos’s eyes turned cold. “I would be careful of that.”

I wanted to warn Cocalus: Don’t trust this guy! Throw him in the dungeon

with some man-eating lions or something! But the redheaded king just

chuckled. “Not to worry, Minos. My daughters are wise beyond their years.

Now, about my gold—”

“Yes,” Minos said. “But you see the gold is for the man who solved the

riddle. And there can be only one such man. You are harboring Daedalus.”

Cocalus shifted uncomfortably on his throne. “How is that you know his

name?”

“He is a thief,” Minos said. “He once worked in my court, Cocalus. He

turned my own daughter against me. He helped a usurper make a fool of me

in my own palace. And then he escaped justice. I have been pursuing him for

ten years.”

“I knew nothing of this. But I have offered the man my protection. He has

been a most useful—”

“I offer you a choice,” Minos said. “Turn over the fugitive to me, and this

gold is yours. Or risk making me your enemy. You do not want Crete as

your enemy.”

Cocalus paled. I thought it was stupid for him to look so scared in the

middle of his own throne room. He should’ve summoned his army or

something. Minos only had two guards. But Cocalus just sat there sweating

on his throne.

“Father,” his oldest daughter said, “you can’t—”

“Silence, Aelia.” Cocalus twisted his beard. He looked again at the

glittering gold. “This pains me, Minos. The gods do not love a man who

breaks his oath of hospitality.”

“The gods do not love those who harbor criminals, either.”

Cocalus nodded. “Very well. You shall have your man in chains.”

“Father!” Aelia said again. Then she caught herself, and changed her

voice to a sweeter tone. “At—at least let us feast our gust first. After his long

journey, he should be treated to a hot bath, new clothes, and a decent meal. I

would be honored to draw the bath myself.”

She smiled prettily at Minos, and the old king grunted. “I suppose a bath

would not be amiss.” He looked at Cocalus. “I will see you at dinner, my

lord. With the prisoner.”

“This way, Your Majesty,” said Aelia. She and her sisters led Minos out

of the chamber.

I followed them into a bath chamber decorated with mosaic tiles. Steam

filled the air. A running-water faucet poured hot water into the tub. Aelia

and her sisters filled it with rose petals and something that must’ve been

Ancient Greek Mr. Bubble, because soon the water was covered with

multicolored foam. The girls turned aside as Minos dropped his roves and

slipped into the bath.

“Ahh.” He smiled. “An excellent bath. Thank you, my dears. The journey

has been long indeed.”

“You have been chasing your prey ten years, my lord?” Aelia asked,

batting her eyelashes. “You must be very determined.”

“I never forget a debt.” Minos grinned. “Your father was wise to agree to

my demands.”

“Oh, indeed, my lord!” Aelia said. I thought she was laying on the flattery

pretty thick, but the old guy was eating it up. Aelia’s sisters trickled scented

oil over the king’s head.

“You know, my lord,” Aelia said, “Daedalus thought you would come. He

thought the riddle might be a trap, but he couldn’t resist solving it.”

Minos frowned. “Daedalus spoke to you about me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“He is a bad man, princess. My own daughter fell under his spell. Do not

listen to him.”

“He is a genius,” Aelia said. “And he believes a woman is just as smart as

a man. He was the first to ever teach us as if we had minds of our own.

Perhaps your daughter felt the same way.”

Minos tried to sit up, but Aelia’s sisters pushed him back into the water.

Aelia came up behind him. She held three tiny orbs in her palm. At first I

thought they were bath beads. But she threw them in the water and the beads

sprouted bronze threads that began wrapping around the king, tying him up

at the ankles, binding his wrists to his sides, circling his neck. Even though I

hated Minos, it was pretty horrible to watch. He thrashed and cried out, but

the girls were much stronger. Soon he was helpless, lying in the bath with

his chin just above the water. The bronze strands were still wrapping around

him like a cocoon, tightening across his body.

“What do you want?” Minos demanded. “Why do you do this?”

Aelia smiled. “Daedalus has been kind to us, Your Majesty. And I do not

like you threatening our father.”

“You tell Daedalus,” Minos growled. “You tell him I will hound him even

after death! If there is any justice in the Underworld, my soul will haunt him

for eternity!”

“Brave words, Your Majesty,” Aelia said. “I wish you luck finding your

justice in the Underworld.”

And with that, the bronze threads wrapped around Minos’s face, making

him a bronze mummy.

The door of the bathhouse opened. Daedalus stepped in, carrying a

traveler’s bag.

He’d trimmed his hair short. His beard was pure white. He looked frail

and sad, but he reached down and touched the mummy’s forehead. The

threads unraveled and sank to the bottom of the tub. There was nothing

inside them. It was as if King Minos had just dissolved.

“A painless death,” Daedalus mused. “More than he deserved. Thank you,

my princesses.”

Aelia hugged him. “You cannot stay here, teacher. When our father finds

out—”

“Yes,” Daedalus said. “I fear I have brought you trouble.”

“Oh, do not worry for us. Father will be happy enough taking that old

man’s gold. And Crete is a very long way away. But he will blame you for

Minos’s death. You must flee to somewhere safe.”

“Somewhere safe,” the old man repeated. “For years I have fled from

kingdom to kingdom, looking for somewhere safe. I fear Minos told the

truth. Death will not stop him from hounding me. There is no place under

the sun that will harbor me, once word of this crime gets out.”

“Then where will you go?” Aelia said.

“A place I swore never to enter again,” Daedalus said. “My prison may be

my only sanctuary.”

“I do not understand,” Aelia said.

“It’s best you did not.”

“But what of the Underworld?” one of her sisters asked. “Terrible

judgment will await you! Every man must die.”

“Perhaps,” Daedalus said. Then he brought a scroll from his traveling

bag—the same scroll I’d seen in my last dream, with his nephews notes. “Or

perhaps not.”

He patted Aelia’s shoulder, then blessed her and her sisters. He looked

down once more at the coppery threads glinting in the bottom of the bath.

“Find me if you dare, king of the ghosts.”

He turned toward the mosaic wall and touched a tile. A glowing mark

appeared—a Greek _—and the wall slid aside. The princesses gasped.

“You never told us of secret passages!” Aelia said. “You have been busy.”

“The Labyrinth has been busy,” Daedalus corrected. “Do not try to follow

me, my dears, if you value your sanity.”

* * *

My dream shifted. I was underground in a stone chamber. Luke and

another half-blood warrior were studying a map by flashlight.

Luke cursed. “It should’ve been the last turn.” He crumpled up the map

and tossed it aside.

“Sir!” his companion protested.

“Maps are useless here,” Luke said. “Don’t worry. I’ll find it.”

“Sir, is it true that the larger the group—”

“The more likely you get lost? Yes, that’s true. Why do you think we sent

out solo explorers to begin with? But don’t worry. As soon we have the

thread, we can lead the vanguard through.”

“But how will we get the thread?”

Luke stood, flexing his fingers. “Oh, Quintus will come through. All we

have to do is reach the arena, and it’s at the juncture. Impossible to get

anywhere without passing it. That’s why we must have a truce with its

master. We just have to stay alive until—”

“Sir!” a new voice came from the corridor. Another guy in Greek armor

ran forward, carrying a torch. “The dracaenae found a half-blood!”

Luke scowled. “Alone? Wandering the maze?”

“Yes, sir! You’d better come quick. They’re in the next chamber. They’ve

got him cornered.”

“Who is it?”

“No one I’ve ever seen before, sir.”

Luke nodded. “A blessing from Kronos. We may be able to use this halfblood.

Come!”

They ran down the corridor, and I woke with a start, staring into the dark.

A lone half-blood, wandering in the maze. It was a long time before I got to

sleep again.

* * *

The next morning I made sure Mrs. O’Leary had enough dog biscuits. I

asked Beckendorf to keep an eye on her, which he didn’t seem too happy

about. Then I hiked over Half-Blood Hill and met Annabeth and Argus on

the road.

Annabeth and I didn’t talk much in the van. Argus never spoke, probably

because he had eyes all over his body, including—so I’d heard—at the tip of

his tongue, and he didn’t like to show that off.

Annabeth looked queasy, as if she’d slept even worse than me.

“Bad dreams? I asked at last.

She shook her head. “An Iris-message from Eurytion.”

“Eurytion! Is something wrong with Nico?”

“He left the ranch last night, heading back into the maze.”

“Nico was gone before he woke up. Orthus tracked his scent as far as the

cattle guard. Eurytion said he’d been hearing Nico talk to himself the last

few nights. Only now he thinks Nico was talking with the ghost again,

Minos.”

“He’s in danger,” I said.

“No kidding. Minos is one of the judges of the dead, but he’s got a vicious

streak a mile wide. I don’t know what he wants with Nico, but—”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said. “I had this dream last night…” I told

her about Luke, how he’d mentioned Quintus, and how his men had found a

half-blood alone in the maze.

Annabeth’s jaw clenched. “That’s very, very bad.”

“So what do we do?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’s a good thing you have a plan to guide

us, huh?”

* * *

It was Saturday, and traffic was heavy going into the city. We arrived at

my mom’s apartment around noon. When she answered the door, she gave

me a hug only a little less overwhelming than having a hellhound jump on

you.

“I told them you were all right,” my mom said, but she sounded like the

weight of the sky had just been lifted off her shoulders—and believe me, I

know firsthand how that feels.

She sat us down at the kitchen table and insisted on feeding us her special

blue chocolate-chip cookies while we caught her up on the quest. As usual, I

tried to water down the frightening parts (which was pretty much

everything), but somehow that just made it sound more dangerous.

When I got to the part about Geryon and the stables, my mom pretended

like she was going to strangle me. “I can’t get him to clean his room, but

he’ll clean a hundred tons of horse manure out of some monster’s stables?”

Annabeth laughed. It was the first time I’d heard her laugh in a long time,

and it was nice to hear.

“So,” my mom said when I was done with the story, “you wrecked

Alcatraz Island, made Mount St. Helens explode, and displaced half a

million people, but at least you’re safe.” That’s my mom, always looking on

the bright side.

“Yep,” I agreed. “That pretty much covers it.”

“I wish Paul were here,” she said, half to herself. “He wanted to talk to

you.”

“Oh, right. The school.”

So much had happened since then that I’d almost forgotten about the high

school orientation at Goode—the fact I’d left the band hall in flames, and

my mom’s boyfriend had last seen me jumping through a window like a

fugitive.

“What did you tell him?” I asked.

My mom shook her head. “What could I say? He knows something is

different about you, Percy. He’s a smart man. He believes that you’re not a

bad person. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but the school is pressuring

him. After all, he got you admitted there. He needs to convince them the fire

wasn’t your fault. And since you ran away, that looks bad.”

Annabeth was studying me. She looked pretty sympathetic. I knew she’d

been in similar situations. It’s never easy for a half-blood in the mortal world.

“I’ll talk to him,” I promised. “After we’re done with the quest. I’ll even

tell him the truth if you want.”

My mom put her hand on my shoulder. “You would do that?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, he’ll think we’re crazy.”

“He already thinks that.”

“Then there’s nothing to lose.”

“Thank you, Percy. I’ll tell him you’ll be home…” She frowned. “When?

What happens now?”

Annabeth broke her cookie in half. “Percy has this plan.”

Reluctantly I told my mom.

She nodded slowly. “It sounds very dangerous. But it might work.”

“You have the same abilities, don’t you?” I asked. “You can see through

the Mist.”

My mom sighed. “Not so much now. When I was younger it was easier.

But yes, I’ve always been able to see more than was good for me. It’s one of

the things that caught your father’s attention, when we first met. Just be

careful. Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“We’ll try, Ms. Jackson,” Annabeth said. “Keeping your son safe is a big

job, though.” She folded her arms and glared out the kitchen window. I

picked at my napkin and tried not to say anything.

My mom frowned. “What’s going on with you two? Have you been

fighting?”

Neither of us said anything.

“I see,” my mom said, and I wondered if she could see through more than

just the Mist. It sounded like she understood what was going on with

Annabeth and me, but I sure as heck didn’t. “Well, remember,” she said,

“Grover and Tyson are counting on you two.”

“I know,” Annabeth and I said at the same time, which embarrassed me

even more.

My mom smiled. “Percy, you’d better use the phone in the hall. Good

luck.”

I was relieved to get out of the kitchen, even though I was nervous about

what I was about to do. I went to the phone and placed the call. The number

had washed off my hand a long time ago, but that was okay. Without

meaning to, I’d memorized it.

* * *

We arranged a meeting in Times Square. We found Rachel Elizabeth Dare

in front of the Marriott Marquis, and she was completely painted gold.

I mean, her face, her hair, her clothes—everything. She looked like she’d

been touched by King Midas. She was standing like a statue with five other

kids all painted metallic—copper, bronze, silver. They were frozen in

different poses while tourists hustled past or stopped to stare. Some passerby

threw money at the tarp on the sidewalk.

The sign at Rachel’s feet said, URBAN ART FOR KIDS, DONATIONS

APPRECIATED.

Annabeth and I stood there for like five minutes, staring at Rachel, but if

she noticed us she didn’t let on. She didn’t move or even blink that I could

see. Being ADHD and all, I could not have done that. Standing still that long

would’ve driven me crazy. It was weird to see Rachel in gold, too. She

looked like a statue of somebody famous, an actress or something. Only her

eyes were normal green.

“Maybe if we push her over,” Annabeth suggested.

I thought that was a little mean, but Rachel didn’t respond. After another

few minutes, a kid in silver walked up from the hotel taxi stand, where he’d

been taking a break. He took a pose like he was lecturing the crowd, right

next to Rachel. Rachel unfroze and stepped off the tarp.

“Hey, Percy.” She grinned. “Good timing! Let’s get some coffee.”

We walked down to a place called the Java Moose on West 43rd. Rachel

ordered an Espresso Extreme, the kind of stuff Grover would like. Annabeth

and I got fruit smoothies and we sat at a table right under the stuffed moose.

Nobody even looked twice at Rachel in her golden outfit.

“So,” she said, “it’s Annabell, right?”

“Annabeth,” Annabeth corrected. “Do you always dress in gold?”

“Not usually,” Rachel said. “We’re raising money for our group. We do

volunteer art projects for elementary kids ’cause they’re cutting art from the

schools, you know? We do this once a month, take in about five hundred

dollars on a good weekend. But I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about

that. You’re a half-blood, too?”

“Shhh!” Annabeth said, looking around. “Just announce it to the world,

how about?”

“Okay.” Rachel stood up and said really loud, “Hey, everybody! These

two aren’t human! They’re half Greek god!”

Nobody even looked over. Rachel shrugged and sat down. “They don’t

seem to care.”

“That’s not funny,” Annabeth said. “This isn’t a joke, mortal girl.”

“Hold it, you two,” I said. “Just calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Rachel insisted. “Every time I’m around you, some monster

attacks us. What’s to be nervous about?”

“Look,” I said. “I’m really sorry about the band room. I hope they didn’t

kick you out or anything.”

“Nah. They asked me a lot of questions about you. I played dumb.”

“Was it hard?” Annabeth asked.

“Okay, stop!” I intervened. “Rachel, we’ve got a problem. And we need

your help.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Annabeth. “You need my help?”

Annabeth stirred her straw in her smoothie. “Yeah,” she said suddenly.

“Maybe.”

I told Rachel about the Labyrinth, and how we needed to find Daedalus. I

told her what had happened the last few times we’d gone in.

“So you want me to guide you,” she said. “Through a place I’ve never

been.”

“You can see through the Mist,” I said. “Just like Ariadne. I’m betting you

can see the right path. The Labyrinth won’t be able to fool you as easily.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“Then we’ll get lost. Either way, it’ll be dangerous. Very, very

dangerous.”

“I could die?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you said monsters don’t care about mortals. That sword of

yours—”

“Yeah,” I said. “Celestial bronze doesn’t hurt mortals. Most monsters

would ignore you. But Luke…he doesn’t care. He’ll use mortals, demigods,

monsters, whatever. And he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.”

“Nice guy,” Rachel said.

“He’s under the influence of a Titan,” Annabeth said defensively. “He’s

been deceived.”

Rachel looked back and forth between us. “Okay,” she said. “I’m in.”

I blinked. I hadn’t figured it would be so easy. “Are you sure?”

“Hey, my summer was going to be boring. This is the best offer I’ve

gotten yet. So what do I look for?”

“We have to find an entrance to the Labyrinth,” Annabeth said. “There’s

an entrance at Camp Half-Blood, but you can’t go there. It’s off-limits to

mortals.”

She said mortals like it was some sort of terrible condition, but Rachel

just nodded. “Okay. What does an entrance to the Labyrinth look like?”

“It could be anything,” Annabeth said. “A section of wall. A boulder. A

doorway. A sewer entrance. But it would have the mark of Daedalus on it. A

Greek _, glowing in blue.”

“Like this?” Rachel drew the symbol Delta in water on our table.

“That’s it,” Annabeth said. “You know Greek?”

“No,” Rachel said. She pulled a big blue plastic hairbrush from her pocket

and started brushing the gold out of her hair. “Let me get changed. You’d

better come with me to the Marriott.”

“Why?” Annabeth said.

“Because there’s an entrance like that in the hotel basement, where we

store our costumes. It’s got the mark of Daedalus.”

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: MY BROTHER DUELS ME TO DEATH

Click here to Go To Index

The metal door was half hidden behind a laundry bin full of dirty hotel

towels. I didn’t see anything strange about it, but Rachel showed me where

to look, and I recognized the faint blue symbol etched in the metal.

“It hasn’t been used in a long time,” Annabeth said.

“I tried to open it once,” Rachel said, “just out of curiosity. It’s rusted

shut.”

“No.” Annabeth stepped forward. “It just needs the touch of a half-blood.”

Sure enough, as soon as Annabeth put her hand on the mark, it glowed

blue. The metal door unsealed and creaked open, revealing a dark staircase

leading down.

“Wow.” Rachel looked calm, but I couldn’t tell if she was pretending or

not. She’d changed into a ratty Museum of Modern Art T-shirt and her

regular marker-colored jeans, her blue plastic hairbrush sticking out of her

pocket. Her red hair was tied back, but she still had flecks of gold in it, and

traces of the gold glitter on her face. “So…after you?”

“You’re the guide,” Annabeth said with mock politeness. “Lead on.”

The stairs led down to a large brick tunnel. It was so dark I couldn’t see

two feet in front of us, but Annabeth and I had restocked on flashlights. As

soon as we switched them on, Rachel yelped.

A skeleton was grinning at us. It wasn’t human. It was huge, for one

thing—at least ten feet tall. It had been strung up, chained by its wrists and

ankles so it made a kind of giant X over the tunnel. But what really sent

shivers down my spine was the single black eye socket in the center of its

skull.

“A Cyclops,” Annabeth said. “It’s very old. It’s not…anybody we know.”

It wasn’t Tyson, she meant. But that didn’t make me feel much better. I

still felt like it had been put here as a warning. Whatever could kill a grown

Cyclops, I didn’t want to meet.

Rachel swallowed. “You have a friend who’s a Cyclops?”

“Tyson,” I said. “My half brother.”

“Your half brother.”

“Hopefully we’ll find him down here,” I said. “And Grover. He’s a satyr.”

“Oh.” Her voice was small. “Well then, we’d better keep moving.”

She stepped under the skeleton’s left arm and kept walking. Annabeth and

I exchanged looks. Annabeth shrugged. We followed Rachel deeper into the

maze.

After fifty feet we came to a crossroads. Ahead, the brick tunnel

continued. To the right, the walls were made of ancient marble slabs. To the

left, the tunnel was dirt and tree roots.

I pointed left. “That looks like the tunnel Tyson and Grover took.”

Annabeth frowned. “Yeah, but the architecture to the right—those old

stones—that’s more likely to lead to an ancient part of the maze, toward

Daedalus’s workshop.”

“We need to go straight,” Rachel said.

Annabeth and I both looked at her.

“That’s the least likely choice,” Annabeth said.

“You don’t see it?” Rachel asked. “Look at the floor.”

I saw nothing except well-worn bricks and mud.

“There’s a brightness there,” Rachel insisted. “Very faint. But forward is

the correct way. To the left, farther down the tunnel, those tree roots are

moving like feelers. I don’t like that. To the right, there’s a trap about twenty

feet down. Holes in the walls, maybe for spikes. I don’t think we should risk

it.”

I didn’t see anything like she was describing, but I nodded. “Okay.

Forward.”

“You believe her?” Annabeth asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Don’t you?”

Annabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but she waved at Rachel to

lead on. Together we kept walking down the brick corridor. It twisted and

turned, but there were no more side tunnels. We seemed to be angling down,

heading deeper underground.

“No traps?” I asked anxiously.

“Nothing.” Rachel knit her eyebrows. “Should it be this easy?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It never was before.”

“So, Rachel,” Annabeth said, “where are you from, exactly?”

She said it like, What planet are you from? But Rachel didn’t look

offended.

“Brooklyn,” she said.

“Aren’t your parents going to be worried if you’re out late?”

Rachel exhaled. “Not likely. I could be gone a week and they’d never

notice.”

“Why not?” This time Annabeth didn’t sound as sarcastic. Having trouble

with parents was something she understood.

Before Rachel could answer, there was a creaking noise in front of us, like

huge doors opening.

“What was that?” Annabeth asked.

“I don’t know,” Rachel said. “Metal hinges.”

“Oh, that’s very helpful. I mean, what is it?”

Then I heard heavy footsteps shaking the corridor—coming toward us.

“Run?” I asked.

“Run,” Rachel agreed.

We turned and fled the way we’d come, but we didn’t make it twenty feet

before we ran straight into some old friends. Two dracaenae—snake women

in Greek armor—leveled their javelins at our chests. Standing between them

was Kelli, the empousa cheerleader.

“Well, well,” Kelli said.

I uncapped Riptide, and Annabeth pulled her knife; but before my sword

was even out of pen form, Kelli pounced on Rachel. Her hand turned into a

claw and she spun Rachel around, holding her tight with her talons at

Rachel’s neck.

“Taking your little mortal pet for a walk?” Kelli asked me. “They’re such

fragile things. So easy to break!”

Behind us, the footsteps came closer. A huge form appeared out of the

gloom—an eight-foot-tall Laistrygonian giant with red eyes and fangs.

The giant licked his lips when he saw us. “Can I eat them?”

“No,” Kelli said. “Your master will want these. They will provide a great

deal of entertainment.” She smiled at me. “Now march, half-bloods. Or you

all die here, starting with the mortal girl.”

* * *

It was pretty much my worst nightmare. And believe me, I’ve had plenty

of nightmares. We were marched down the tunnel, flanked by dracaenae,

with Kelli and the giant in back, just in case we tried to run for it. Nobody

seemed to worry about us running forward. That was the direction they

wanted us to go.

Up ahead I could see bronze doors. They were about ten feet tall,

emblazoned with a pair of crossed swords. From behind them came a

muffled roar, like from a crowd.

“Oh, yessssss,” said the snake woman on my left. “You’ll be very popular

with our hossssst.”

I’d never gotten to look at a dracaena up close before, and I wasn’t real

thrilled to have the opportunity. She would’ve had a beautiful face, except

her tongue was forked and her eyes were yellow with black slits for pupils.

She wore bronze armor that stopped at her waist. Below that, where her legs

should’ve been, were two massive snake trunks, mottled bronze and green.

She moved by a combination of slithering and walking, as if she were on

living skis.

“Who’s your host?” I asked.

She hissed, which might have been a laugh. “Oh, you’ll sssssee. You’ll

get along furiousssly. He’ssss your brother, after all.”

“My what?” Immediately I thought of Tyson, but that was impossible.

What was she talking about?

The giant pushed past us and opened the doors. He picked up Annabeth

by her shirt and said, “You stay here.”

“Hey!” she protested, but the guy was twice her size and he’d already

confiscated her knife and my sword.

Kelli laughed. She still had her claws at Rachel’s neck. “Go on, Percy.

Entertain us. We’ll wait here with your friends to make sure you behave.”

I looked at Rachel. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you out of this.”

She nodded as much as she could with a demon at her throat. “That would

be nice.”

The dracaenae prodded me toward the doorway at javelin-point, and I

walked out onto the floor of an arena.

* * *

I guess it wasn’t the largest arena I’d ever been in, but it seemed pretty

spacious considering the whole place was underground. The dirt floor was

circular, just big enough that you could drive a car around the rim if you

pulled it really tight. In the center of the arena, a fight was going on between

a giant and a centaur. The centaur looked panicked. He was galloping

around his enemy, using sword and shield, while the giant swing a javelin

the size of a telephone pole and the crowd cheered.

The first tier of seats was twelve feet above the arena floor. Plain stone

benches wrapped all the way around, and every seat was full. There were

giants, dracaenae, demigods, telekhines, and stranger things: bat-winged

demons and creatures that seemed half human and half you name it—bird,

reptile, insect, mammal.

But the creepiest things were the skulls. The arena was full of them. They

ringed the edge of the railing. Three-foot-high piles of them decorated the

steps between the benches. They grinned from pikes at the back of the stands

and hung on chains from the ceiling like horrible chandeliers. Some of them

looked very old—nothing but bleached-white bone. Others looked a lot

fresher. I’m not going to describe them. Believe me, you don’t want me to.

In the middle of all this, proudly displayed on the side of the spectator’s

wall, was something that made no sense to me—a green banner with the

trident of Poseidon in the center. What was that doing in a horrible place like

this?

Above the banner, sitting in a seat of honor, was an old enemy.

“Luke,” I said.

I’m not sure he could hear me over the roar of the crowd, but he smiled

coldly. He was wearing camouflage pants, a white T-shirt, and bronze

breastplate, just like I’d seen in my dream. But he still wasn’t wearing his

sword, which I thought was strange. Next to him sat the largest giant I’d

ever seen, much larger than the one on the floor fighting the centaur. The

giant next to Luke must’ve been fifteen feet tall, easy, and so wide he took

up three seats. He wore only a loincloth, like a sumo wrestler. His skin was

dark red and tattooed with blue wave designs. I figured he must be Luke’s

new bodyguard or something.

There was a cry from the arena floor, and I jumped back as the centaur

crashed to the dirt beside me.

He met my eyes pleadingly. “Help!”

I reached for my sword, but it had been taken from me and hadn’t

reappeared in my pocket yet.

The centaur struggled to get up as the giant approached, his javelin ready.

A taloned hand gripped my shoulder. “If you value your friendsss’

livesss,” my dracaena guard said, “you won’t interfere. This isssn’t your

fight. Wait your turn.”

The centaur couldn’t get up. One of his legs was broken. The giant put his

huge foot on the horseman’s chest and raised the javelin. He looked up at

Luke. The crowd cheered, “DEATH! DEATH!”

Luke didn’t do anything, but the tattooed sumo dude sitting next to him

arose. He smiled down at the centaur, who was whimpering, “Please! No!”

Then the sumo dude held out his hand and gave the thumbs down sign.

I closed my eyes as the gladiator giant thrust his javelin. When I looked

again, the centaur was gone, disintegrated to ashes. All that was left was a

single hoof, which the giant took up as a trophy and showed the crowd. They

roared their approval.

A gate opened at the opposite end of the stadium and the giant marched

out in triumph.

In the stands, the sumo dude raised his hands for silence.

“Good entertainment!” he bellowed. “But nothing I haven’t seen before.

What else do you have, Luke, Son of Hermes?”

Luke’s jaw tightened. I could tell he didn’t like being called son of

Hermes. He hated his father. But he rose calmly to his feet. His eyes

glittered. In fact, he seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

“Lord Antaeus,” Luke said, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “You have

been an excellent host! We would be happy to amuse you, to repay the favor

of passing through your territory.”

“A favor I have not yet granted,” Antaeus growled. “I want

entertainment!”

Luke bowed. “I believe I have something better than centaurs to fight in

your arena now. I have a brother of yours.” He pointed at me. “Percy

Jackson, son of Poseidon.”

The crowd began jeering at me and throwing stones, most of which I

dodged, but one caught me on the cheek and made a good-sized cut.

Antaeus’s eyes lit up. “A son of Poseidon? Then he should fight well! Or

die well!”

“If his death pleases you,” Luke said, “will you let our armies cross your

territory?”

“Perhaps!” Antaeus said.

Luke didn’t look too pleased about the “perhaps.” He glared down at me,

as if warning me that I’d better die in a really spectacular way or I’d be in

big trouble.

“Luke!” Annabeth yelled. “Stop this. Let us go!”

Luke seemed to notice her for the first time. He looked stunned for a

moment. “Annabeth?”

“Enough time for the females to fight afterward,” Antaeus interrupted.

“First, Percy Jackson, what weapons will you choose?”

The dracaenae pushed me into the middle of the arena.

I stared up at Antaeus. “How can you be a son of Poseidon?”

“I am his favorite son!” Antaeus boomed. “Behold, my temple to the

Earthshaker, built from the skulls of all those I’ve killed in his name! Your

skull shall join them!”

I stared in horror at all the skulls—hundreds of them—and the banner of

Poseidon. How could this be a temple for my dad? My dad was a nice guy.

He’d never ask me for a Father’s Day card, much less somebody’s skull.

“Percy!” Annabeth yelled at me. “His mother is Gaea! Gae—”

Her Laistrygonian captor clamped his hand over her mouth. His mother is

Gaea. The earth goddess. Annabeth was trying to tell me that was important,

but I didn’t know why. Maybe just because the guy had two godly parents.

That would make him even harder to kill.

“You’re crazy, Antaeus,” I said. “If you think this is a good tribute, you

know nothing about Poseidon.”

The crowd screamed insults at me, but Antaeus raised his hand for silence.

“Weapons,” he insisted. “And then we will see how you die. Will you

have axes? Shields? Nets? Flamethrowers?”

“Just my sword,” I said.

Laughter erupted from the monsters, but immediately Riptide appeared in

my hands, and some of the voices in the crowd turned nervous. The bronze

blade glowed with a faint light.

“Round one!” Antaeus announced. The gates opened, and a dracaena

slithered out. She had a trident in one hand and a weighted net in the other—

classic gladiator style. I’d trained against those weapons at camp for years.

She jabbed at me experimentally. I stepped away. She threw her net,

hoping to tangle my sword hand, but I sidestepped easily, sliced her spear in

half, and stabbed Riptide through a chink in her armor. With a painful wail,

she vaporized into nothing, and the cheering of the crowd died.

“No!” Antaeus bellowed. “Too fast! You must wait for the kill. Only I

give that order!”

I glanced over at Annabeth and Rachel. I had to find a way to get them

free, maybe distract their guards.

“Nice job, Percy.” Luke smiled. “You’ve gotten better with the sword. I’ll

grant you that.”

“Round two!” Antaeus yelled. “And slower this time! More entertainment!

Wait for my call before killing anybody. OR ELSE!”

The gates opened again, and this time a young warrior came out. He was a

little older than me, about sixteen. He had glossy black hair, and his left eye

was covered with an eye patch. He was thin and wiry so his Greek armor

hung on him loosely. He stabbed his sword into the dirt, adjusted his shield

straps, and pulled on his horsehair helmet.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Ethan Nakamura,” he said. “I have to kill you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Hey!” a monster jeered from the stands. “Stop talking and fight already!”

The others took up the call.

“I have to prove myself,” Ethan told me. “Only way to join up.”

And with that he charged. Our swords met in midair and the crowd roared.

It didn’t seem right. I didn’t want to fight to entertain a bunch of monsters,

but Ethan Nakamura wasn’t giving me much choice.

He pressed forward. He was good. He’d never been at Camp Half-Blood,

as far as I knew, but he’d been trained. He parried my strike and almost

slammed me with his shield, but I jumped back. He slashed. I rolled to one

side. We exchanged thrusts and parries, getting a fell for each other’s

fighting style. I tried to keep on Ethan’s blind side, but it didn’t help much.

He’d apparently been fighting with only one eye for a long time, because he

was excellent at guarding his left.

“Blood!” the monsters cried.

My opponent glanced up at the stands. That was his weakness, I realized.

He needed to impress them. I didn’t.

He yelled an angry battle cry and charged me, but I parried his blade and

backed away, letting him come after me.

“Boo!” Antaeus said. “Stand and fight!”

Ethan pressed me, but I had no trouble defending, even without a shield.

He was dressed for defense—heavy armor and shield—which made it very

tiring to play offense. I was a softer target, but I also was lighter and faster.

The crowd went nuts, yelling complaints and throwing rocks. We’d been

fighting for almost five minutes and there was no blood.

Finally Ethan made his mistake. He tried to jab at my stomach, and I

locked his sword hilt in mine and twisted. His sword dropped into the dirt.

Before he could recover, I slammed the butt of my sword into his helmet and

pushed him down. His heavy armor helped me more than him. He fell on his

back, dazed and tired. I put the tip of my sword on his chest.

“Get it over with,” Ethan groaned.

I looked up at Antaeus. His red face was stony with displeasure, but he

held up his hand and put it thumbs down.

“Forget it.” I sheathed my sword.

“Don’t be a fool,” Ethan groaned. “They’ll just kill us both.”

I offered him my hand. Reluctantly, he took it. I helped him up.

“No one dishonors the games!” Antaeus bellowed. “Your heads shall both

be tributes to Poseidon!”

I looked at Ethan. “When you see your chance, run.” Then I turned back

to Antaeus. “Why don’t you fight me yourself? If you’ve got Dad’s favor,

come down here and prove it!”

The monsters grumbled in the stands. Antaeus looked around, and

apparently realized he had no choice. He couldn’t say no without looking

like a coward.

“I am the greatest wrestler in the world, boy,” he warned. “I have been

wrestling since the first pankration!”

“Pankration?” I asked.

“He means fighting to the death,” Ethan said. “No rules. No holds barred.

It used to be an Olympic sport.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said.

“Don’t mention it.”

Rachel was watching me with wide eyes. Annabeth shook her head

emphatically, the Laistrygonian’s hand still clamped over her mouth.

I pointed my sword at Antaeus. “Winner takes all! I win, we all go free.

You win, we die. Swear upon the River Styx.”

Antaeus laughed. “This shouldn’t take long. I swear to your terms!”

He leaped off the railing, into the arena.

“Good luck,” Ethan told me. “You’ll need it.” Then he backed up quickly.

Antaeus cracked his knuckles. He grinned, and I saw that even his teeth

were etched in wave patterns, which must’ve made brushing after meals a

real pain.

“Weapons?” he asked.

“I’ll stick with my sword. You?”

He held up his huge hands and wiggled his fingers. “I don’t need anything

else! Master Luke, you will referee this one.”

Luke smiled down at me. “With pleasure.”

Antaeus lunged. I rolled under his legs and stabbed him in the back of the

thigh.

“Argggh!” he yelled. But where blood should’ve come out, there was a

spout of sand, like I’d busted the side of an hourglass. It spilled into the dirt

floor, and the dirt collected around his leg, almost like a cast. When the dirt

fell away, the wound was gone.

He charged again. Fortunately I’d had some experience fighting giants. I

dodged sideways this time and stabbed him under the arm. Riptide’s blade

was buried to the hilt in his ribs. That was the good news. The bad news was

that it was wrenched out of my hand when the giant turned, and I was

thrown across the arena, weaponless.

Antaeus bellowed in pain. I waited for him to disintegrate. No monster

had ever withstood a direct hit from my sword like that. The celestial bronze

blade had to be destroying his essence. But Antaeus groped for the hilt,

pulled out the sword, and tossed it behind him. More snad poured from the

wound, but again the earth rose up to cover him. Dirt coated his body all the

way to his shoulders. As soon as the dirt spilled away, Antaeus was fine.

“Now you see why I never lose, demigod!” Antaeus gloated. “Come here

and let me crush you. I’ll make it quick!”

Antaeus stood between me and my sword. Desperately, I glanced to either

side, and I caught Annabeth’s eye.

The earth, I thought. What had Annabeth been trying to tell me?

Antaeus’s mother was Gaea the earth mother, the most ancient goddess of all.

Antaeus’s father might have been Poseidon, but Gaea was keeping him alive.

I couldn’t hurt him as long as he was touching the ground.

I tried to skirt around him, but Antaeus anticipated my move. He blocked

my path, chuckling. He was just toying with me now. He had me cornered.

I looked up at the chains hanging from the ceiling, dangling the skulls of

his enemies on hooks. Suddenly I had an idea.

I feinted to the other side. Antaeus blocked me. The crowd jeered and

screamed at Antaeus to finish me off, but he was having too much fun.

“Puny boy,” he said. “Not a worthy son of the sea god!”

I felt my pen return to my pocket, but Antaeus wouldn’t know about that.

He would think riptide was still in the dirt behind him. He would think my

goal was to get my sword. It wasn’t much of an advantage, but it was all I

had.

I charged straight ahead, crouching low so he would think I was going to

roll between his legs again. While he was stooping, ready to catch me like a

grounder, I jumped for all I was worth—kicking off his forearm, scrambling

up his shoulder like it was a ladder, placing my shoe on his head. He did the

natural thing. He straightened up indignantly and yelled “HEY!” I pushed

off, using his force to catapult me toward the ceiling. I caught the top of a

chain, and the skulls and hooks jangled beneath me. I wrapped my legs

around the chain, just like I used to do at the ropes course in gym class. I

drew Riptide and sawed off the chain next to me.

“Come down here, coward!” Antaeus bellowed. He tried to grab me, but I

was just out of reach. Hanging on for dear life, I yelled, “Come up and get

me! Or are you too slow and fat?”

He howled and made another grab for me. He caught a chain and tried to

pull himself up. While he was struggling, I lowered my sawed-off chain,

hook first. It took me two tries, but finally I snagged Antaeus’s loincloth.

“WAAA!” he yelled. Quickly I slipped the free chain through the

fastening link on my own chain, pulled it taut, and secured it the best I could.

Antaeus tried to slip back to the ground, but his but stayed suspended by his

loincloth. He had to hold on to the other chains with both hands to avoid

getting flipped upside down. I prayed the loincloth and the chain would hold

up for a few more seconds. While Antaeus cursed and flailed, I scrambled

around the chains, swinging and cutting like I was some sort of crazed

monkey. I made loops with hooks and metal links. I don’t know how I did it.

My mom always said I have a gift for getting stuff tangled up. Plus I was

desperate to save my friends. Anyway, within a couple of minutes the giant

was suspended above the ground, hopelessly snarled in chains and hooks. I

dropped to the floor, panting and sweaty. My hands were raw from climbing.

“Get me down!” Antaeus demanded.

“Free him!” Luke ordered. “He is our host!”

I uncapped Riptide. “I’ll free him.”

And I stabbed the giant in the stomach. He bellowed, and sand poured out,

but he was too far up to touch the earth, and the dirt did not rise to hep him.

Antaeus just dissolved, pouring out bit by bit, until there was nothing left but

empty swinging chains, a really big loincloth on a hook, and a bunch of

grinning skulls dancing above me like they had finally had something to

smile about.

“Jackson!” Luke yelled. “I should have killed you long ago!”

“You tired,” I reminded him. “Let us go, Luke. We had a sworn

agreement with Antaeus. I’m the winner.”

He did just what I expected. He said, “Antaeus is dead. His oath dies with

him. But since I’m feeling merciful today, I’ll have you killed quickly.”

He pointed at Annabeth. “Spare the girl.” His voice quavered just a little.

“I would speak to her before—before our great triumph.”

Every monster in the audience drew a weapon or extended its claws. We

were trapped. Hopelessly outnumbered.

Then I felt something in my pocket—a freezing sensation, growing colder

and colder. The dog whistle. My fingers closed around it. For days I’d

avoided using Quintus’s gift. It had to be a trap. But now…I had no choice. I

took it out of my pocket and blew. It made no audible sound as I shattered

into shards of ice, melting in my hand.

Luke laughed. “What was that supposed to do?”

From behind me came a surprised yelp. The Laistrygonian giant who’d

been guarding Annabeth flew past me and smashed into the wall.

“AROOOOF”

Kelli the empousa screamed as a five-hundred-pound black mastiff picked

her up like a chew toy and tossed her through the air, straight into Luke’s lap.

Mrs. O’Leary snarled, and the two dracaenae guards backed away. For a

moment the monsters in the audience were caught completely by surprise.

“Let’s go!” I yelled at my friends. “Heel, Mrs. O’Leary!”

“The far exit!” Rachel cried. “That’s the right way!”

Ethan Nakamura took his cue. Together we raced across the arena and out

the far exit, Mrs. O’Leary right behind us. As we ran, I could hear the

disorganized sounds of an entire army trying to jump out of the stands and

follow us.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: WE STEAL SOME SLIGHTLY USED WINGS

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“This way!” Rachel yelled.

“Why should we follow you?” Annabeth demanded. “You led us straight

into that death trap!”

“It was the way you needed to go,” Rachel said. “And so is this. Come

on!”

Annabeth didn’t look happy about it, but she ran along with the rest of us.

Rachel seemed to know exactly where she was going. She whipped around

corners and didn’t even hesitate at crossroads. Once she said, “Duck!” and

we all crouched as a huge axe swung over our heads. Then we kept going as

if nothing had happened.

I lost track of how many turns we made. We didn’t stop to rest until we

came to a room the size of a gymnasium with old marble columns holding

up the roof. I stood at the doorway, listening for sounds of pursuit, but I

heard nothing. Apparently we’d lost Luke and his minions in the maze.

Then I realized something else: Mrs. O’Leary was gone. I didn’t know

when she’d disappeared. I didn’t know of she’d gotten lost or been overrun

by monsters or what. My heart turned to lead. She’d saved our lives, and I

hadn’t even waited to make sure she was following us.

Ethan collapsed on the floor. “You people are crazy.” He pulled off his

helmet. His face gleamed with sweat.

Annabeth gasped. “I remember you! You were one of the undetermined

kids in the Hermes cabin, years ago.”

He glared at her. “Yeah, and you’re Annabeth. I remember.”

“What—what happened to your eye?”

Ethan looked away, and I got the feeling that was one subject he would

not discuss.

“You must be the half-blood from my dream,” I said. “The one Luke’s

people cornered. It wasn’t Nico after all.”

“Who’s Nico?”

“Never mind,” Annabeth said quickly. “Why were you trying to join up

with the wrong side?”

Ethan sneered. “There’s no right side. The gods never cared about us.

Why shouldn’t I—”

“Sign up with an army that makes you fight to the death for

entertainment?” Annabeth said. “Gee, I wonder.”

Ethan struggled to his feet. “I’m not going to argue with you. Thanks for

the help, but I’m out of here.”

“We’re going after Daedalus,” I said. “Come with us. Once we get

through, you’d be welcome back at camp.”

“You really are crazy if you think Daedalus will help you.”

“He has to,” Annabeht said. “We’ll make him listen.”

Ethan snorted. “Yeah, well. Good luck with that.”

I grabbed his arm. “You’re just going to head off alone into the maze?

That’s suicide.”

He looked at me with barely controlled anger. His eye patch was frayed

around the edges and the black cloth was faded, like he’d been wearing it a

long, long time. “You shouldn’t have spared me, Jackson. Mercy has no

place in this war.”

Then he ran off into the darkness, back the way we’d come.

* * *

Annabeth, Rachel, and I were so exhausted we made camp right there in

the huge room. I found some scrap wood and we started a fire. Shadows

danced off the columns rising around us like trees.

“Something was wrong with Luke,” Annabeth muttered, poking at the fire

with her knife. “Did you notice the way he was acting?”

“He looked pretty pleased to me,” I said. “Like he’d spent a nice day

torturing heroes.”

“That’s not true! There was something wrong with him. He

looked…nervous. He told his monsters to spare me. He wanted to tell me

something.”

“Probably, ‘Hi, Annabeth! Sit here with me and watch while I tear your

friends apart. It’ll be fun!’”

“You’re impossible,” Annabeth grumbled. She sheathed her dagger and

looked at Rachel. “So which way now, Sacagawea?”

Rachel didn’t respond right away. She’d become quieter since the arena.

Now, whenever Annabeth made a sarcastic comment, Rachel hardly

bothered to answer. She’d burned the tip of a stick in the fire and was using

it to draw ash figures on the floor, images of the monsters we’d seen. With a

few strokes, she caught the likeness of a dracaena perfectly.

“We’ll follow the path,” she said. “The brightness on the floor.”

“The brightness that led us straight into a trap?” Annabeth asked.

“Lay off her, Annabeth,” I said. “She’s doing the best she can.”

Annabeth stood. “The fire’s getting low. I’ll go look for some more scraps

while you guys talk strategy.” And she marched off into the shadows.

Rachel drew another figure with her stick—an ashy Antaeus dangling

from his chains.

“Annabeth’s usually not like this,” I told her. “I don’t know what her

problem is.”

Rachel raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t know?”

“What do you mean?”

“Boys,” she muttered. “Totally blind.”

“Hey, don’t you get on my case, too! Look, I’m sorry I got you involved

in this.”

“No, you were right,” she said. “I can see the path. I can’t explain it, but

it’s really clear.” She pointed toward the other end of the room, into the

darkness. “The workshop is that way. The heart of the maze. We’re very

close now. I don’t know why the path led through that arena. I—I’m sorry

about that. I thought you were going to die.”

She sounded like she was close to crying.

“Hey, I’m usually about to die,” I promised. “Don’t feel bad.”

She studied my face. “So you do this every summer? Fight monsters?

Save the world? Don’t you ever get to do just, you know, normal stuff?”

I’d never really thought about it like that. The last time I’d had something

like a normal life had been…well, never. “Half-bloods get used to it, I guess.

Or maybe not used to it, but…” I shifted uncomfortably. “What about you?

What do you do normally?”

Rachel shrugged. “I paint. I read a lot.”

Okay, I thought. So far we are scoring a zero on the similarities chart.

“What about your family?”

I could sense her mental shields going up, like this was not a safe subject.

“Oh…they’re just, you know, family.”

“You said they wouldn’t notice if you were gone.”

She set down her drawing stick. “Wow, I’m really tired. I may sleep for a

while, okay?”

“Oh, sure. Sorry if…”

But Rachel was already curling up, using her backpack as a pillow. She

closed her eyes and lay very still, but I got the feeling she wasn’t really

asleep.

A few minutes later, Annabeth came back. She tossed some more sticks

on the fire. She looked at Rachel, then at me.

“I’ll take first watch,” she said. “You should sleep, too.”

“You don’t have to act like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like…never mind.” I lay down, feeling miserable. I was so tired I fell

asleep as soon as my eyes closed.

* * *

In my dreams I heard laughter. Cold, harsh laughter, like knives being

sharpened.

I was standing at the edge of a pit in the depths of Tartarus. Below me the

darkness seethed like inky soup.

“So close to your own destruction, little hero,” the voice of Kronos chided.

“And still you are blind.”

The voice was different than it had been before. It seemed almost physical

now, as if it were speaking from a real body instead of…whatever he’d been

in his chopped-up condition.

“I have much to thank you for,” Kronos said. “You have assured my rise.”

The shadows in the cavern became deeper and heavier. I tried to back

away from the edge of the pit, but it was like swimming through oil. Time

slowed down. My breathing almost stopped.

“A favor,” Kronos said. “The Titan lord always pays his debts. Perhaps a

glimpse of the friends you abandoned…”

The darkness rippled around me, and I was in a different cave.

“Hurry!” Tyson said. He came barreling into the room. Grover stumbled

along behind him. There was a rumbling in the corridor they’d come from,

and the head of an enormous snake burst into the cave. I mean, this thing

was so big its body barely fit through the tunnel. Its scales were coppery. Its

head was diamond-shaped like a rattler, and its yellow eyes glowed with

hatred. When it opened its mouth, its fangs were as tall as Tyson.

It lashed at Grover, but Grover scampered out of the way. The snake got a

mouthful of dirt. Tyson picked up a boulder and threw it at the monster,

smacking it between the eyes, but the snake just recoiled and hissed.

“It’s going to eat you!” Grover yelled at Tyson.

“How do you know?”

“It just told me! Run!”

Tyson darted to one side, but the snake used its head like a club and

knocked him off his feet.

“No!” Grover yelled. But before Tyson could regain his balance, the

snake wrapped around him and started to squeeze.

Tyson strained, pushing with all his immense strength, but the snake

squeezed tighter. Grover frantically hit the snake with his reed pipes, but he

might as well have been banging on a stone wall.

The whole room shook as the snake flexed its muscles, shuddering to

overcome Tyson’s strength.

Grover began to play with pipes, and stalactites rained down from the

ceiling. The whole cave seemed about to collapse…

* * *

I woke with Annabeth shaking my shoulder. “Percy, wake up!”

“Tyson—Tyson’s in trouble!” I said. “We have to help him!”

“First things first,” she said. “Earthquake!”

Sure enough, the room was rumbling. “Rachel!” I yelled.

Her eyes opened instantly. She grabbed her pack, and the three of us ran.

We were almost to the far tunnel when a column next to us groaned and

buckled. We kept going as a hundred tons of marble crashed down behind us.

We made it to the corridor and turned just in time to see the other columns

toppling. A cloud of white dust billowed over us, and we kept running.

“You know what?” Annabeth said. “I like this way after all.”

It wasn’t long before we saw light up ahead—like regular electric lighting.

“There,” Rachel said.

We followed her into a stainless steel hallway, like I imagined they’d

have on a space station or something. Fluorescent lights glowed from the

ceiling. The floor was a metal grate.

I was so used to being in the darkness that I had to squint. Annabeth and

Rachel both looked pale in the harsh illumination.

“This way,” Rachel said, beginning to run. “We’re close!”

“This is so wrong!” Annabeth said. “The workshop should be in the oldest

section of the maze. This can’t—”

She faltered, because we’d arrived at a set of metal double doors.

Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek _.

“We’re here,” Rachel announced. “Daedalus’s workshop.”

* * *

Annabeth pressed the symbol on the doors and they hissed open.

“So much for ancient architecture,” I said.

Annabeth scowled. Together we walked inside.

The first thing that struck me was the daylight—blazing sun coming

through giant windows. Not the kind of thing you expect in the heart of a

dungeon. The workshop was like an artist’s studio, with thirty-foot ceilings

and industrial lighting, polished stone floors, and workbenches along with

windows. A spiral staircase led up to a second-story loft. Half a dozen easels

displayed hand-drawn diagrams for buildings and machines that looked like

Leonardo da Vinci sketches. Several laptop computers were scattered around

on the tables. Glass jars of green oil—Greek fire—lined one shelf. There

were inventions, too—weird metal machines I couldn’t make sense of. One

was a bronze chair with a bunch of electrical wires attached to it, like some

kind of torture device. In another corner stood a giant metal egg about the

size of a man. There was a grandfather clock that appeared to be made

entirely of glass, so you could see all the gears turning. And hanging on the

wall were several sets of bronze and silver wings.

“Di immortals,” Annabeth muttered. She ran to the nearest easel and

looked at the sketch. “He’s a genius. Look at the curves on this building!”

“And an artist,” Rachel said in amazement. “These wings are amazing!”

The wings looked more advanced than the ones I’d seen in my dreams.

The feathers were more tightly interwoven. Instead of wax seals, selfadhesive

strips ran down the sides.

I kept my hand on Riptide. Apparently Daedalus was not at home, but the

workshop looked like it had been recently used. The laptops were running

their screen savers. A half-eaten blueberry muffin and a coffee cup sat on a

workbench.

I walked to the window. The view outside was amazing. I recognized the

Rocky Mountains in the distance. We were high up in the foothills, at least

five hundred feet, and down below a valley spread out, filled with a tumbled

collection of red mesas and boulders and spires of stone. It looked like some

huge kid had been building a toy city with skyscraper-size blocks, and then

decided to knock it over.

“Where are we?” I wondered.

“Colorado Springs,” A voice said behind us. “The Garden of the Gods.”

Standing on the spiral staircase above us, with his weapon drawn, was our

missing sword master Quintus.

* * *

“You,” Annabeth said. “What have you done with Daedalus?”

Quintus smiled faintly. “Trust me, my dear. You don’t want to meet him.”

“Look, Mr. Traitor,” she growled, “I didn’t fight a dragon woman and a

three-bodied man and a psychotic Sphinx to see you. Now where is

DAEDALUS?”

Quintus came down the stairs, holding his sword at his side. He was

dressed in jeans and boots and his counselor’s T-shirt from Camp Half-

Blood, which seemed like an insult now that we knew he was a spy. I didn’t

know if I could beat him in a sword fight. He was pretty good. But I figured

I would have to try.

“You think I’m an agent of Kronos,” he said. “That I work for Luke.”

“Well, duh,” said Annabeth.

“You’re an intelligent girl,” he said. “But you’re wrong. I work only for

myself.”

“Luke mentioned you,” I said. “Geryon knew about you, too. You’ve

been to his ranch.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ve been almost everywhere. Even here.”

He walked past me like I was no threat at all and stood by the window.

“The view changes from day to day,” he mused. “It’s always some place

high up. Yesterday it was from a skyscraper overlooking Manhattan. The

day before that, there was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. But it keeps

coming back to the Garden of the Gods. I think the Labyrinth likes it here. A

fitting name, I suppose.”

“You’ve been here before,” I said.

“Oh, yes.”

“That’s an illusion out there?” I asked. “A projection or something?”

“No,” Rachel murmured. “It’s real. We’re really in Colorado.”

Quintus regarded her. “You have clear vision, don’t you? you remind me

of another mortal girl I once knew. Another princess who came to grief.”

“Enough games,” I said. “What have you done with Daedalus?”

Quintus stared at me. “My boy, you need lessons from your friend on

seeing clearly. I am Daedalus.”

* * *

There were a lot of answers I might’ve given, from “I knew that” to

“LIAR!” to “Yeah right, and I’m Zeus.”

The only thing I could think to say was, “But you’re not an inventor!

You’re a swordsman!”

“I am both,” Quintus said. “And an architect. And a scholar. I also play

basketball pretty well for a guy who didn’t start until he was two thousand

years old. A real artist must be good at many things.”

“That’s true,” Rachel said. “Like I can paint with my feet as well as my

hands.”

“You see?” Quintus said. “A girl of many talents.”

“But you don’t even look like Daedalus,” I protested. “I saw him in a

dream, and…” Suddenly a horrible thought dawned on me.

“Yes,” Quintus said. “You’ve finally guessed the truth.”

“You’re an automaton. You made yourself a new body.”

“Percy,” Annabeth said uneasily, “that’s not possible. That—that can’t be

an automaton.”

Quintus chuckled. “Do you know what Quintus means, my dear?”

“The fifth, in Latin. But—”

“This is my fifth body.” The swordsman held out his forearm. He pressed

his elbow and part of his wrist popped open—a rectangular hatch in his skin.

Underneath, bronze gears whirred. Wires glowed.

“That’s amazing!” Rachel said.

“That’s weird,” I said.

“You found a way to transfer your animus into a machine?” Annabeth

said. “That’s…not natural.”

“Oh, I assure you, my dear, it’s still me. I’m still very much Daedalus.

Our mother, Athena, makes sure I never forget that.” He tugged back the

collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was the mark I’d seen before—the

dark shape of a bird grafted to his skin.

“A murderer’s brand,” Annabeth said.

“For your nephew, Perdix,” I guessed. “The boy you pushed off the

tower.”

Quintus’s face darkened. “I did not push him. I simply—”

“Made him lose his balance,” I said. “Let him die.”

Quintus gazed out the windows at the purple mountains. “I regret what I

did, Percy. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and Athena

never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird—a

partridge. She branded the bird’s shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter

what body I take, the brand appears on my skin.”

I looked into his eyes, and I realized he was the same man I’d seen in my

dreams. His face might be totally different, but the same soul was in there—

the same intelligence and all the sadness.

“You really are Daedalus,” I decided. “But why did you come to the camp?

Why spy on us?”

“To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke had given me one story. I

preferred to come to my own conclusions.”

“So you have talked to Luke.”

“Oh, yes. Several times. He is quite persuasive.”

“But now you’ve seen the camp!” Annabeth persisted. “So you know we

need your help. You can’t let Luke through the maze!”

Daedalus set his sword on the workbench. “The maze is no longer mine to

control, Annabeth. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I

have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for

privacy.”

“Privacy from what?”

“The gods,” he said. “And death. I have been alive for two millennia, my

dear, hiding from death.”

“But how can you hide from Hades?” I asked. “I mean…Hades has the

Furies.”

“They do not know everything,” he said. “Or see everything. You have

encountered them, Percy. You know this is true. A clever man can hide quite

a long time, and I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy

has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted.”

“You mean Minos,” I said.

Daedalus nodded. “He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a judge of

the dead, he would like nothing better than for me to come before him so he

can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him,

Minos’s ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would

hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world

completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my

ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death.”

“And you did,” Annabeth marveled, “for two thousand years.” She

sounded kind of impressed, despite the horrible things Daedalus had done.

Just then a loud bark echoed from the corridor. I heard the ba-BUMP, ba-

BUMP, ba-BUMP of huge paws, and Mrs. O’Leary bounded into the

workshop. She licked my face once, then almost knocked Daedalus over

with an enthusiastic leap.

“There is my old friend!” Daedalus said, scratching Mrs. O’Leary behind

the ears. “My only companion all these long lonely years.”

“You let her save me,” I said. “That whistle actually worked.”

Daedalus nodded. “Of course it did, Percy. You have a good heart. And I

knew Mrs. O’Leary liked you. I wanted to help you. Perhaps I—I felt guilty,

as well.”

“Guilty about what?”

“That your quest would be in vain.”

“What?” Annabeth said. “But you can still help us. You have to! Give us

Ariadne’s string so Luke can’t get it.”

“Yes…the string. I told Luke that the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are

the best guide, but he did not trust me. He was so focused on the idea of a

magic item. And the string works. It’s not as accurate as your mortal friend

here, perhaps. But good enough. Good enough.”

“Where is it?” Annabeth said.

“With Luke,” Daedalus said sadly. “I’m sorry, my dear. But you are

several hours too late.”

With a chill I realized why Luke had been in such a good mood in the

arena. He’d already gotten the string from Daedalus. His only obstacle had

been the arena master, and I’d taken care of that for him by killing Antaeus.

“Kronos promised me freedom,” Quintus said. “Once Hades is

overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son

Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos’s

soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no

longer have to run from death.”

“That’s your brilliant idea?” Annabeth yelled. “You’re going to let Luke

destroy your camp, kill hundreds of demigods, and then attack Olympus?

You’re going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want?”

“Your cause is doomed, my dear. I saw that as soon as I began to work at

your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of Kronos.”

“That’s not true!” she cried.

“I am doing what I must, my dear. The offer was too sweet to refuse. I’m

sorry.”

Annabeth pushed over an easel. Architectural drawing scattered across the

floor. “I used to respect you. You were my hero! You—you built amazing

things. You solved problems. Now…I don’t know what you are. Children of

Athena are supposed to be wise, not just clever. Maybe you are just a

machine. You should have died two thousand years ago.”

Instead of getting mad, Daedalus hung his head. “You should go warn

your camp. Now that Luke has the string—”

Suddenly Mrs. O’Leary pricked up her ears.

“Someone’s coming!” Rachel warned.

The doors of the workshop burst open, and Nico was pushed inside, his

hands in chains. Then Kelli and two Laistrygonians marched in behind him,

followed by the ghost of Minos. He looked almost solid now—a pale

bearded king with cold eyes and tendrils of Mist coiling off his robes.

He fixed his gaze on Daedalus. “There you are, my old friend.”

Daedalus’s jaw clenched. He looked at Kelli. “What is the meaning of

this?”

“Luke sends his compliments,” Kelli said. “He thought you might like to

see your old employer Minos.”

“This was not part of our agreement,” Daedalus said.

“No indeed,” Kelli said. “But we already have what we want from you,

and we have other agreements to honor. Minos required something else from

us, in order to turn over this fine young demigod.” She ran a finger under

Nico’s chin. “He’ll be quite useful. And all Minos asked in return was your

head, old man.”

Daedalus paled. “Treachery.”

“Get used to it,” Kelli said.

“Nico,” I said. “Are you okay?”

He nodded morosely. “I—I’m sorry, Percy. Minos told me you were in

danger. He convinced me to go back into the maze.”

“You were trying to help us?”

“I was tricked,” he said. “He tricked all of us.”

I glared at Kelli. “Where’s Luke? Why isn’t he here?”

The she-demon smiled like we were sharing a private joke. “Luke

is…busy. He is preparing for the assault. But don’t worry. We have more

friends on the way. And in the meantime, I think I’ll have a wonderful

snack!” Her hands changed into claws. Her hair burst into flame and her legs

turned to their true form—one donkey leg, one bronze.

“Percy,” Rachel whispered, “the wings. Do you think—”

“Get them,” I said. “I’ll try to buy you some time.”

And with that, all Hades broke loose. Annabeth and I charged at Kelli.

The giants came right at Daedalus, but Mrs. O’Leary leaped to his defense.

Nico got pushed to the ground and struggled with his chains while the spirit

of Minos wailed, “Kill the inventor! Kill him!”

Rachel grabbed the wings off the wall. Nobody paid her any attention.

Kelli slashed at Annabeth. I tried to get to her, but the demon was quick and

deadly. She turned over tables, smashed inventions, and wouldn’t let us get

close. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs. O’Leary chomp her fangs into

a giant’s arm. He wailed in pain and flung her around, trying to shake her.

Daedalus grabbed for his sword, but the second giant smashed the

workbench with his fist, and the sword went flying. A clay jar of Greek fire

broke on the floor and began to burn, green flames spreading quickly.

“To me!” Minos cried. “Spirits of the dead!” He raised his ghostly hands

and the air began to hum.

“No!” Nico cried. He was on his feet now. He’d somehow managed to

remove his shackles.

“You do not control me, young fool,” Minos sneered. “All this time, I

have been controlling you! A soul for a soul, yes. But it is not your sister

who will return from the dead. It is I, as soon as I slay the inventor!”

Spirits began to appear around Minos—shimmering forms that slowly

multiplied, solidifying into Cretan soldiers.

“I am the son of Hades,” Nico insisted. “Be gone!”

Minos laughed. “You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The

ghost king!”

“No.” Nico drew his sword. “I am.”

He stabbed his black blade into the floor, and it cleaved through the stone

like butter.

“Never!” Minos’s form rippled. “I will not—”

The ground rumbled. The windows cracked and shattered to pieces,

letting in a blast of fresh air. A fissure opened in the stone floor of the

workshop, and Minos and all his spirits were sucked into the void with a

horrible wail.

The bad news: the fight was still going on all around us, and I let myself

get distracted. Kelli pounced on me so fast I had no time to defend myself.

My sword skittered away and I hit my head hard on a worktable as I fell. My

eyesight went fuzzy. I couldn’t raise my arms.

Kelli laughed. “You will taste wonderful!”

She bared her fangs. Then suddenly her body went rigid. Her red eyes

widened. She gasped, “No…school…spirit…”

And Annabeth took her knife out of the empousa’s back. With an awful

screech, Kelli dissolved into yellow vapor.

Annabeth helped me up. I still felt dizzy, but we had no time to lose. Mrs.

O’Leary and Daedalus were still locked in combat with the giants, and I

could hear shouting in the tunnel. More monsters were coming toward the

workshop.

“We have to help Daedalus!” I said.

“No time,” Rachel said. “Too many coming!”

She’d already fitted herself with wings and was working on Nico, who

looked pale and sweaty from his struggle with Minos. The wings grafted

instantly to his back and arms.

“Now you!” she told me.

In seconds, Nico, Annabeth, Rachel, and I had fitted ourselves with

coppery wings. Already I could feel myself being lifted by the wind coming

through the window. Greek fire was burning the tables and furniture,

spreading up the circular stairs.

“Daedalus!” I yelled. “Come on!”

He was cut in a hundred places—but he was bleeding golden oil instead

of blood. He’d found his sword and was using part of a smashed table as a

shield against the giants. “I won’t leave Mrs. O’Leary!” he said. “Go!”

There was no time to argue. Even if we stayed, I wasn’t sure we could

help.

“None of us know how to fly!” Nico protested.

“Great time to find out,” I said. And together, the four of us jumped out

the window into open sky.

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: I OPEN A COFFIN

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Jumping out a window five hundred feet aboveground is not usually my

idea of fun. Especially when I’m wearing bronze wings and flapping my

arms like a duck.

I plummeted toward the valley and the red rocks below. I was pretty sure I

was going to become a grease spot in the Garden of the Gods, as Annabeth

yelled from somewhere above me, “Spread your arms! Keep them

extended.”

The small part of my brain that wasn’t engulfed in panic heard her, and

my arms responded. As soon as I spread them out, the wings stiffened,

caught the wind, and my descent slowed. I soared downward, but at a

controlled angle, like a kite in a dive.

Experimentally, I flapped my arms once. I arced into the sky, the wind

whistling in my ears.

“Yeah!” I yelled. The feeling was unbelievable. After getting the hang of

it, I felt like the wings were part of my body. I could soar and swoop and

dive anywhere I wanted to.

I turned and saw my friends—Rachel, Annabeth, and Nico—spiraling

above me, glinting in the sunlight. Behind them, smoke billowed from the

windows of Daedalus’s workshop.

“Land!” Annabeth yelled. “These wings won’t last forever.”

“How long?” Rachel asked.

“I don’t want to find out!” Annabeth said.

We swooped down toward the Garden of the Gods. I did a complete circle

around one of the rock spires and freaked out a couple of climbers. Then the

four of us soared across the valley, over a road, and landed on the terrace of

the visitor center. It was late afternoon and the place looked pretty empty,

but we ripped off our wings as quickly as we could. Looking at them, I could

see Annabeth was right. The self-adhesive seals that bound the wings to our

backs were already melting, and we were shedding bronze feathers. It

seemed a shame, but we couldn’t fix them, and couldn’t leave them around

for the mortals, so we stuffed the wings in trash bins outside the cafeteria.

I used the tourist binocular camera to look up at the hill where Daedalus’s

workshop had been, but it had vanished. No more smoke. No broken

windows. Just the side of a hill.

“The workshop moved,” Annabeth guessed. “There’s no telling where.”

“So what do we do now?” I asked. “How do we get back in the maze?”

Annabeth gazed at the summit of Pikes Peak in the distance. “Maybe we

can’t. If Daedalus died…he said his life force was tied into the Labyrinth.

The whole thing might’ve been destroyed. Maybe that will stop Luke’s

invasion.”

I thought about Grover and Tyson, still down there somewhere. And

Daedalus…even though he’d done some terrible things and put everybody I

cared about at risk, it seemed like a pretty horrible way to die.

“No,” Nico said. “He isn’t dead.”

“How can you be sure?” I asked.

“I know when people die. It’s this feeling I get, like a buzzing in my ears.”

“What about Tyson and Grover, then?”

Nico shook his head. “That’s harder. They’re not humans or half-bloods.

They don’t have mortal souls.”

“We have to get into town,” Annabeth decided. “Our chances will be

better of finding an entrance to the Labyrinth. We have to make it back to

camp before Luke and his army.”

“We could just take a plane,” Rachel said.

I shuddered. “I don’t fly.”

“But you just did.”

“That was low flying,” I said, “and even that’s risky. Flying up really

high—that’s Zeus’s territory. I can’t do it. Besides, we don’t even have time

for a flight. The labyrinth is the quickest way back.”

I didn’t want to say it, but I was also hoping that maybe, just maybe, we

would find Grover and Tyson along the way.

“So we need a car to take us into the city,” Annabeth said.

Rachel looked down into the parking lot. She grimaced, as if she were

about to do something she regretted. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How?” Annabeth asked.

“Just trust me.”

Annabeth looked uneasy, but she nodded. “Okay, I’m going to buy a

prism in the gift shop, try to make a rainbow, and send an Iris-message to

camp.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nico said. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll stick with Rachel, then,” I said. “Meet you guys in the parking lot.”

Rachel frowned like she didn’t want me with her. That made me feel kind

of bad, but I followed her down to the parking lot anyway.

She headed toward a big black car parked at the edge of the lot. It was a

chauffeured Lexus, like the kind I always saw driving around Manhattan.

The driver was out front, reading a newspaper. He wore a dark suit and tie.

“What are you going to do?” I asked Rachel.

“Just wait here,” she said miserably. “Please.”

Rachel marched straight up to the driver and talked to him. He frowned.

Rachel said something else. He turned pale and hastily folded up his

magazine. He nodded and fumbled for his cell phone. After a brief call, he

opened the back door of the car for Rachel to get in. She pointed back in my

direction, and the driver bobbed his head some more, like Yes, ma’am.

Whatever you want.

I couldn’t figure out why he was acting so flustered.

Rachel came back to get me just as Nico and Annabeth appeared from the

gift shop.

“I talked to Chiron,” Annabeth said. “They’re doing their best to prepare

for battle, but he still wants us back. They’re going to need every hero they

can get. Did we find a ride?”

“The driver’s ready when we are,” Rachel said.

The chauffeur was now talking to another guy in khakis and a polo shirt,

probably his client who’d rented the car. The client was complaining, but I

could hear the driver saying, “I’m sorry, sir. Emergency. I’ve ordered

another car for you.”

“Come on,” Rachel said. She led us to the car and got in without even

looking at the flustered guy who’d rented it. A minute later we were cruising

down the road. The seats were leather. There was plenty of legroom. The

backseat had flat-panel TVs built into the headrests and a mini-fridge

stocked with bottled water, sodas, and snacks. We started pigging out.

“Where to, Miss Dare?” the driver asked.

“I’m not sure yet, Robert,” she said. “We just need to drive through town

and, uh, look around.”

“Whatever you say, miss.”

I looked at Rachel. “Do you know this guy?”

“No.”

“But he dropped everything to help you. Why?”

“Just keep your eyes peeled,” she said. “Help me look.”

Which didn’t exactly answer my question.

We drove through Colorado Springs for about half an hour and saw

nothing that Rachel considered a possible Labyrinth entrance. I was very

aware of Rachel’s shoulder pressing against mine. I kept wondering who she

was exactly, and how she could walk up to some random chauffeur and

immediately get a ride.

After about an hour we decided to head north toward Denver, thinking

that maybe a bigger city would be more likely to have a Labyrinth entrance,

but we were all getting nervous. We were losing time.

Then right as we were leaving Colorado Springs, Rachel sat bolt upright.

“Get off the highway!”

The driver glanced back. “Miss?”

“I saw something, I think. Get off here.”

The driver swerved across traffic and took the exit.

“What did you see?” I asked, because we were pretty much out of the city

now. There wasn’t anything around except hills, grassland, and some

scattered farm buildings. Rachel had the driver turn down this unpromising

dirt road. We drove by a sign too fast for me to read it, but Rachel said,

“Western Museum of Mining & Industry.”

For a museum, it didn’t look like much—a little house like an oldfashioned

railroad station, some drills and pumps and old steam shovels on

display outside.

“There.” Rachel pointed to a hole in the side of a nearby hill—a tunnel

that was boarded up and chained. “An old mine entrance.”

“A door to the Labyrinth?” Annabeth asked. “How can you be sure?”

“Well, look at it!” Rachel said. “I mean…I can see it, okay?”

She thanked the driver and we all got out. He didn’t ask for money or

anything. “Are you sure you’ll be all right, Miss Dare? I’d be happy to call

your—”

“No!” Rachel said. “No, really. Thanks, Robert. But we’re fine.”

The museum seemed to be closed, so nobody bothered us as we climbed

the hill to the mine shaft. When we got to the entrance, I saw the mark of

Daedalus engraved on the padlock, though how Rachel had seen something

so tiny all the way from the highway I had no idea. I touched the padlock

and the chains fell away. We kicked down a few boards and walked inside.

For better or worse, we were back in the Labyrinth.

* * *

The dirt tunnels turned to stone. They wound around and split off and

basically tried to confuse us, but Rachel had no trouble guiding us. We told

her we needed to get back to New York, and she hardly even paused when

the tunnels offered a choice.

To my surprise, Rachel and Annabeth started up a conversation as we

walked. Annabeth asked her more about her background, but Rachel was

evasive, so they started talking about architecture. It turned out that Rachel

knew something about it from studying art. They talked about different

facades on buildings around New York—“Have you seen this one,” blah,

blah, blah, so I hung back and walked next to Nico in uncomfortable silence.

“Thanks for coming after us,” I told him at last.

Nico’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t seem as angry as he used to—just

suspicious, careful. “I owed you for the ranch, Percy. Plus…I wanted to see

Daedalus for myself. Minos was right, in a way. Daedalus should die.

Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It’s not natural.”

“That’s what you were after all along,” I said. “Trading Daedalus’s soul

for your sister’s.”

Nico walked for another fifty yards before answering. “It hasn’t been easy,

you know. Having only the dead for company. Knowing that I’ll never be

accepted by the living. Only the dead respect me, and they only do that out

of fear.”

“You could be accepted,” I said. “You could have friends at camp.”

He stared at me. “Do you really believe that, Percy?”

I didn’t answer. The truth was, I didn’t know. Nico had always been a

little different, but since Bianca’s death, he’d gotten almost…scary. He had

his father’s eyes—that intense, manic fire that made you suspect he was

either a genius or a madman. And the way he’d banished Minos, and called

himself the king of ghosts—it was kind of impressive, but it made me

uncomfortable too.

Before I could figure out what to tell him, I ran into Rachel, who’d

stopped in front of me. We’d come to a crossroads. The tunnel continued

straight ahead, but a side tunnel T’d off to the right—a circular shaft carved

from volcanic rock.

“What is it?” I asked.

Rachel stared down the dark tunnel. In the dim flashlight beam, her face

looked like one of Nico’s specters.

“Is it that way?” Annabeth asked.

“No,” Rachel said nervously. “Not at all.”

“Why are we stopping then?” I asked.

“Listen,” Nico said.

I heard wind coming down the tunnel, as if the exit were close. And I

smelled something vaguely familiar—something that brought back bad

memories.

“Eucalyptus trees,” I said. “Like in California.”

Last winter, when we’d faced Luke and the Titan Atlas on top of Mount

Tamalpais, the air had smelled like that.

“There’s something evil down that tunnel,” Rachel said. “Something very

powerful.”

“And the smell of death,” Nico added, which made me feel a whole lot

better.

Annabeth and I exchanged glances.

“Luke’s entrance,” she guessed. “The one to Mount Othrys—the Titans’

palace.”

“I have to check it out,” I said.

“Percy, no.”

“Luke could be right here,” I said. “Or…or Kronos. I have to find out

what’s going on.”

Annabeth hesitated. “Then we’ll all go.”

“No,” I said. “It’s too dangerous. If they got hold of Nico, or Rachel for

that matter, Kronos could use them. You stay here and guard them.”

What I didn’t say: I was also worried about Annabeth. I didn’t trust what

she would do if she saw Luke again. He had fooled her and manipulated her

too many times before.

“Percy, don’t,” Rachel said. “Don’t go up there alone.”

“I’ll be quick,” I promised. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

Annabeth took her Yankees cap out of her pocket. “At least take this. And

be careful.”

“Thanks.” I remembered the last time Annabeth and I had parted ways,

when she’d given me a kiss for luck in Mount St. Helens. This time, all I got

was the hat.

I put it on. “Here goes nothing.” And I sneaked invisibly down the dark

stone tunnel.

* * *

Before I even got to the exit I heard voices: the growling, barking sounds

of sea-demon smiths, the telekhines.

“At least we salvaged the blade,” one said. “The master will still reward

us.”

“Yes! Yes!” a second shrieked. “Rewards beyond measure!”

Another voice, this one more human, said: “Um, yeah, well that’s great.

Now, if you’re done with me—”

“No, half-blood!” a telekhine said. “You must help us make the

presentation. It is a great honor!”

“Gee, thanks,” the half-blood said, and I realized it was Ethan Nakamura,

the guy who’d run away after I’d saved his sorry life in the arena.

I crept toward the end of the tunnel. I had to remind myself I was invisible.

They shouldn’t be able to see me.

A blast of cold air hit me as I emerged. I was standing near the top of

Mount Tam. The Pacific Ocean spread out below, gray under a cloudy sky.

About twenty feet downhill, two telekhines were placing something on a big

rock—something long and thin and wrapped in a black cloth. Ethan was

helping them open it.

“Careful, fool,” the telekhine scolded. “One touch, and the blade will

sever your soul from your body.”

Ethan swallowed nervously. “Maybe I’ll let you unwrap it, then.”

I glanced up at the mountain’s peak, where a black marble fortress

loomed, just like I’d seen in my dreams. It reminded me of an oversized

mausoleum, with walls fifty feet high. I had no idea how mortals could miss

the fact that it was here. But then again, everything below the summit

seemed fuzzy to me, as if there were a thick veil between me and the lower

half of the mountain. There was magic going on here—really powerful Mist.

Above me, the sky swirled into a huge funnel cloud. I couldn’t see Atlas, but

I could hear him groaning in the distance, still laboring under the weight of

the sky, just beyond the fortress.

“There!” the telekhine said. Reverently, he lifted the weapon, and my

blood turned to ice.

It was a scythe—a six foot-long blade curved like a crescent moon, with a

wooden handle wrapped in leather. The blade glinted two different colors—

steel and bronze. It was the weapon of Kronos, the one he’d used to slice up

his father, Ouranos, before the gods had taken it away from him and cut

Kronos to pieces, casting him into Tartarus. Now the weapon was re-forged.

“We must sanctify it in blood,” the telekhine said. “Then you, half-blood,

shall help present it when the lord awakes.”

I ran toward the fortress, my pulse pounding in my ears. I didn’t want to

get anywhere close to that horrible black mausoleum, but I knew what I had

to do. I had to stop Kronos from rising. This might be my only chance.

I dashed through a dark foyer and into the main hall. The floor shined like

a mahogany piano—pure black and yet full of light. Black marble statues

lined the walls. I didn’t recognize the faces, but I knew I was looking at

images of the Titans who’d ruled before the gods. At the end of the room,

between two bronze braziers, was a dais. And on the dais, the golden

sarcophagus.

The room was silent except for the crackle of the fires. Luke wasn’t here.

No guards. Nothing.

It was too easy, but I approached the dais.

The sarcophagus was just like I remembered—about ten feet long, much

too big for a human. It was carved with elaborate scenes of death and

destruction, pictures of the gods being trodden under chariots, temples and

famous world landmarks being smashed and burned. The whole coffin gave

off an aura of extreme cold, like I was walking into a freezer. My breath

began to steam.

I drew Riptide and too a little comfort from the familiar weight of the

sword in my hand.

Whenever I’d approached Kronos before, his evil voice had spoken in my

mind. Why was he silent now? He’d been shred into a thousand pieces, cut

with his own scythe. What would I find if I opened that lid? How could they

make a new body for him?

I had no answers. I just knew that if he was about to rise, I had to strike

him down before he got his scythe. I had to figure out a way to stop him.

I stood over the coffin. The lid was decorated even more intricately than

the sides—with scenes of carnage and power. In the middle was an

inscription carved in letters even older than Greek, a language of magic. I

couldn’t read it, exactly, but I knew what it said: KRONOS, LORD OF

TIME.

My hand touched the lid. My fingertips turned blue. Frost gathered on my

sword.

Then I heard noises behind me—voices approaching. It was now or never.

I pushed back the golden lid and it fell to the floor with a huge WHOOOOM!

I lifted my sword, ready to strike. But when I looked inside, I didn’t

comprehend what I was seeing. Mortal legs, dressed in gray pants. A white

T-shirt, hands folded over his stomach. One piece of his chest was

missing—a clean black hole about the size of a bullet wound, right where his

heart should’ve been. His eyes were closed. His skin was pale. Blond

hair…and a scar running along the left side of his face.

The body in the coffin was Luke’s.

* * *

I should have stabbed him right then. I should’ve brought the point of

Riptide down with all my strength.

But I was too stunned. I didn’t understand. As much as I hated Luke, as

much as he had betrayed me, I just didn’t get why he was in the coffin, and

why he looked so very, very dead.

Then the voices of the telekhines were right behind me.

“What has happened!” one of the demons screamed when he saw the lid. I

stumbled away from the dais, forgetting that I was invisible, and hid behind

a column as they approached.

“Careful!” the other demon warned. “Perhaps he stirs. We must present

the gifts now. Immediately!”

The two telekhines shuffled forward and knelt, holding up the scythe on

its wrapping cloth. “My lord,” one said. “Your symbol of power is remade.”

Silence. Nothing happened in the coffin.

“You fool,” the other telekhine muttered. “He requires the half-blood

first.”

Ethan stepped back. “Whoa, what do you mean, he requires me?”

“Don’t be a coward!” the first telekhine hissed. “He does not require your

death. Only your allegiance. Pledge him your service. Renounce the gods.

That is all.”

“No!” I yelled. It was a stupid thing to do, but I charged into the room and

took off the cap. “Ethan, don’t!”

“Trespasser!” The telekhines bared their seal teeth. “The master will deal

with you soon enough. Hurry, boy!”

“Ethan,” I pleaded, “don’t listen to them. Help me destroy it.”

Ethan turned toward me, his eye patch blending in with the shadows on

his face. His expression was something like pity. “I told you not to spare me,

Percy. ‘An eye for an eye.’ You ever hear that saying? I learned what it

means the hard way—when I discovered my godly parent. I’m the child of

Nemesis, Goddess of Revenge. And this is what I was made to do.”

He turned toward the dais. “I renounce the gods! What have they ever

done for me? I will see them destroyed. I will serve Kronos.”

The building rumbled. A wisp of blue light rose from the floor at Ethan

Nakamura’s feet. It drifted toward the coffin and began to shimmer, like a

cloud of pure energy. Then it descended on the sarcophagus.

Luke sat bolt upright. His eyes opened, and they were no longer blue.

They were golden, the same color as the coffin. The hole in his chest was

gone. He was complete. He leaped out of the coffin with ease, and where his

feet touched the floor, the marble froze like craters of ice.

He looked at Ethan and the telekhines with htose horrible golden eyes, as

if he were a newborn baby, not sure what he was seeing. Then he looked at

me, and a smile of recognition crept across his mouth.

“This body has been well prepared.” His voice was like a razor blade

running over my skin. It was Luke’s, but not Luke’s. underneath his voice

was another, more horrible sound—an ancient, cold sound like metal

scraping against rock. “Don’t you think so, Percy Jackson?”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t answer.

Kronos threw back his head and laughed. The scar on his face rippled.

“Luke feared you,” the Titan’s voice said. “His jealously and hatred have

been powerful tools. It has kept him obedient. For that I thank you.”

Ethan collapsed in terror. He covered his face with his hands. The

telekhines trembled, holding up the scythe.

Finally I found my nerve. I lunged at the thing that used to be Luke,

thrusting my blade straight at his chest, but his skin deflected the blow like

he was made of pure steel. He looked at me with amusement. Then he

flicked his hand, and I flew across the room.

I slammed against a pillar. I struggled to my feet, blinking the stars out of

my eyes, but Kronos had already grasped the handle of his scythe.

“Ah…much better,” he said. “Backbiter, Luke called it. An appropriate

name. now that it is re-forged completely, it shall indeed bite back.”

“What have you done to Luke?” I groaned.

Kronos raised his scythe. “He serves me with his whole being, as I require.

The difference is, he feared you, Percy Jackson. I do not.”

That’s when I ran. There wasn’t even any thought to it. No debate in my

mind about—gee, should I stand up to him and try to fight again? Nope, I

simply ran.

But my feet felt like lead. Time slowed down around me, like the world

was turning to Jell-O. I’d had this feeling once before, and I knew it was the

power of Kronos. His presence was so strong it could bend time itself.

“Run, little hero,” he laughed. “Run!”

I glanced back and saw him approaching leisurely, swinging his scythe as

if he were enjoying the feel of having it in his hands again. No weapon in the

world could stop him. No amount of celestial bronze.

He was ten feet away when I heard, “PERCY!”

Rachel’s voice.

Something flew past me, and a blue plastic hairbrush hit Kronos in the eye.

“Ow!” he yelled. For a moment it was only Luke’s voice, full of surprise

and pain. My limbs were freed and I ran straight into Rachel, Nico, and

Annabeth, who were standing in the entry hall, their eyes filled with dismay.

“Luke?” Annabeth called. “What—”

I grabbed her by the shirt and hauled her after me. I ran as fast as I’ve ever

run, straight out of the fortress. We were almost back to the Labyrinth

entrance when I heard the loudest bellow in the world—the voice of Kronos,

coming back into control. “AFTER THEM!”

“No!” Nico yelled. He clapped his hands together, and a jagged spire of

rock the size of an eighteen-wheeler erupted from the ground right in front

of the fortress. The tremor it caused was so powerful the front columns of

the building came crashing down. I heard muffled screams from the

telekhines inside. Dust billowed everywhere.

We plunged into the Labyrinth and kept running, the howl of the Titan

lord shaking the entire world behind us.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE LOST GOD SPEAKS

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We ran until we were exhausted. Rachel steered us away from traps, but

we had no destination in mind—only away from that dark mountain and the

roar of Kronos.

We stopped in a tunnel of wet white rock, like part of a natural cave. I

couldn’t hear anything behind us, but I didn’t feel any safer. I could still

remember those unnatural golden eyes staring out of Luke’s face, and the

feeling that my limbs were slowly turning to stone.

“I can’t go any farther,” Rachel gasped, hugging her chest.

Annabeth had been crying the entire time we’d been running. Now she

collapsed and put her head between her knees. Her sobs echoed in the tunnel.

Nico and I sat next to each other. He dropped his sword next to mine and

took a shaky breath.

“That sucked,” he said, which I thought summed things up pretty well.

“You saved our lives,” I said.

Nico wiped the dust off his face. “Blame the girls for dragging me along.

That’s the only thing they could agree on. We needed to help you or you’d

mess things up.”

“Nice that they trust me so much,” I shined my flashlight across the

cavern. Water dripped from the stalactites like a slow-motion rain.

“Nico…you, uh, kind of gave yourself away.”

“What do you mean?”

“That wall of black stone? That was pretty impressive. If Kronos didn’t

know who you were before, he does now—a child of the Underworld.”

Nico frowned. “Big deal.”

I let it drop. I figured he was just trying to hide how scared he was, and I

couldn’t blame him.

Annabeth lifted her head. Her eyes were red from crying. “What…what

was wrong with Luke? What did they do to him?”

I told her what I’d seen in the coffin, the way the last piece of Kronos’s

spirit had entered Luke’s body when Ethan Nakamura pledged his service.

“No,” Annabeth said. “That can’t be true. He couldn’t—”

“He gave himself over to Kronos,” I said. “I’m sorry, Annabeth. But Luke

is gone.”

“No!” she insisted. “You saw when Rachel hit him.”

I nodded, looking at Rachel with respect. “You hit the Lord of the Titans

in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush.”

Rachel looked embarrassed. “It was the only thing I had.”

“But you saw,” Annabeth insisted. “When it hit him, just for a second, he

was dazed. He came back to his senses.”

“So maybe Kronos wasn’t completely settled in the body, or whatever,” I

said. “It doesn’t mean Luke was in control.”

“You want him to be evil, is that it?” Annabeth yelled. “You didn’t know

him before, Percy. I did!”

“What is it with you?” I snapped. “Why do you keep defending him?”

“Whoa, you two,” Rachel said. “Knock it off!”

Annabeth turned on her. “Stay out of it, mortal girl! If it wasn’t for

you…”

Whatever she was going to say, her voice broke. She put her head down

and sobbed miserably. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. I still

felt stunned, like Kronos’s time-slow effect had affected my brain. I just

couldn’t comprehend what I’d seen. Kronos was alive. He was armed. And

the end of the world was probably close at hand.

“We have to keep moving,” Nico said. “He’ll send monsters after us.”

Nobody was in any shape to run, but Nico was right. I hauled myself up

and helped Rachel to her feet.

“You did good back there,” I told her.

She managed a weak smile. “Yeah, well. I didn’t want you to die.” She

blushed. “I mean…just because, you know. You owe me too many favors.

How am I going to collect if you die?”

I knelt next to Annabeth. “Hey, I’m sorry. We need to move.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m…I’m all right.”

She was clearly not all right. But she got to her feet, and we started

straggling back through the Labyrinth again.

“Back to New York,” I said. “Rachel, can you—”

I froze. A few feet in front of us, my flashlight beam fixed on a trampled

clump of red fabric lying on the ground. It was a Rasta cap: the one Grover

always wore.

* * *

My hands shook as I picked up the cap. It looked like it had been stepped

on by a huge muddy boot. After all that I’d gone through today, I couldn’t

stand the thought that something might’ve happened to Grover, too.

Then I noticed something else. The cave floor was mushy and wet from

the water dripping off the stalactites. There were large footprints like

Tyson’s, and smaller ones—goat hooves—leading off to the left.

“We have to follow them,” I said. “They went that way. It must have been

recently.”

“What about Camp Half-Blood?” Nico said. “There’s no time.”

“We have to find them,” Annabeth insisted. “They’re our friends.”

She picked up Grover’s smashed cap and forged ahead.

I followed bracing myself for the worst. The tunnel was treacherous. It

sloped at weird angles and was slimy with moisture. Half the time we were

slipping and sliding rather than walking.

Finally we got to the bottom of a slope and found ourselves in a large

cave with huge stalagmite columns. Through the center of the room ran an

underground river, and Tyson was sitting by the banks, cradling Grover in

his lap. Grover’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving.

“Tyson!” I yelled.

“Percy! Come quick!”

We ran over to him. Grover wasn’t dead, thank the gods, but his whole

body trembled like he was freezing to death.

“What happened?” I asked.

“So many things,” Tyson murmured. “Large snake. Large dogs. Men with

swords. But then…we got close to here. Grover was excited. He ran. Then

we reached this room, and he fell. Like this.”

“Did he say anything?” I asked.

“He said, ‘We’re close.’ Then hit his head on rocks.”

I knelt next to him. The only other time I’d seen Grover pass out was New

Mexico, when he’d felt the presence of Pan.

I shined my flashlight around the cavern. The rocks glittered. At the far

end was the entrance to another cave, flanked by gigantic columns of crystal

that looked like diamonds. And beyond that entrance…

“Grover,” I said. “Wake up.”

“Uhhhhhhhh.”

Annabeth knelt next to him and splashed icy cold river water in his face.

“Splurg!” His eyelids fluttered. “Percy? Annabeth? Where…”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You passed out. The presence was too much for you.”

“I—I remember. Pan.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Something powerful is just beyond that doorway.”

* * *

I made quick introductions, since Tyson and Grover had never met Rachel.

Tyson told Rachel she was pretty, which made Annabeth’s nostrils flare like

she was going to blow fire.

“Anyway,” I said. “Come on, Grover. Lean on me.”

Annabeth and I helped him up, and together we waded across the

underground river. The current was strong. The water came up to our waists.

I willed myself to stay dry, which is a handy little ability, but that didn’t help

the others, and I could still feel the cold, like wading through a snowdrift.

“I think we’re in Carlsbad Caverns,” Annabeth said, her teeth chattering.

“Maybe an unexplored section.”

“How do you know?”

“Carlsbad is in New Mexico,” she said. “That would explain last winter.”

I nodded. Grover’s swooning episode had happened when we passed

through New Mexico. That’s where he’d felt closest to the power of Pan.

We got out of the water and kept walking. As the crystal pillars loomed

larger, I started to feel the power emanating from the next room. I’d been in

the presence of gods before, but this was different. My skin tingled with

living energy. My weariness fell away, as if I’d just gotten a good night’s

sleep. I could feel myself growing stronger, like one of those plants in a

time-lapse video. And the scent coming from the cave was nothing like the

dank wet underground. It smelled of trees and flowers and a warm summer

day.

Grover whimpered with excitement. I was too stunned to talk. Even Nico

seemed speechless. We stepped into the cave, and Rachel said, “Oh, wow.”

The walls glittered with crystals—red, green, and blue. In the strange light,

beautiful plants grew—giant orchids, star-shaped flowers, vines bursting

with orange and purple berries that crept among the crystals. The cave floor

was covered with green moss. Overhead, the ceiling was higher than a

cathedral, sparkling like a galaxy of stars. In the center of the cave stood a

Roman-style bed, gilded wood shaped like a curly U, with velvet cushions.

Animals lounged around it—but they were animals that shouldn’t have been

alive. There was a dodo bird, something that looked like a cross between a

wolf and a tiger, a huge rodent like the mother of all guinea pigs, and

roaming behind the bed, picking berries with its trunk, was a wooly

mammoth.

On the bed lay an old satyr. He watched us as we approached, his eyes as

blue as the sky. His curly hair was white and so was his pointed beard. Even

the goat fur on his legs was frosted with gray. His horns were enormous—

glossy brown and curved. There was no way he could’ve hidden those under

a hat the way Grover did. Around his neck hung a set of reed pipes.

Grover fell to his knees in front of the bed. “Lord Pan!”

The god smiled kindly, but there was sadness in his eyes. “Grover, my

dear, brave satyr. I have waited a very long time for you.”

“I…got lost,” Grover apologized.

Pan laughed. It was a wonderful sound, like the first breeze of springtime,

filling the whole cavern with hope. The tiger-wolf sighed and rested his head

on the god’s knee. The dodo bird pecked affectionately at the god’s hooves,

making a strange sound in the back of its bill. I could swear it was humming

“It’s a Small World.”

Still, Pan looked tired. His whole form shimmered as if he were made of

Mist.

I noticed my other friends were kneeling. They had awed looks on their

faces. I got to my knees.

“You have a humming dodo bird,” I said stupidly.

The god’s eyes twinkled. “Yes, that’s Dede. My little actress.”

Dede the dodo looked offended. She pecked at Pan’s knee and hummed

something that sounded like a funeral dirge.

“This is the most beautiful place!” Annabeth said. “It’s better than any

building ever designed.”

“I am glad you like it, dear,” Pan said. “It is one of the last wild places.

My realm above is gone, I’m afraid. Only pockets remain. Tiny pieces of life.

This one shall stay undisturbed…for a little longer.”

“My lord,” Grover said, “please, you must come back with me! The

Elders will never believe it! They’ll be overjoyed! You can save the wild!”

Pan placed his hand on Grover’s head and ruffled his curly hair. “You are

so young, Grover. So good and true. I think I chose well.”

“Chose?” Grover said. “I—I don’t understand.”

Pan’s image flickered, momentarily turning to smoke. The giant guinea

pig scuttled under the bed with a terrified squeal. The wooly mammoth

grunted nervously. Dede stuck her head under her wing. Then Pan re-formed.

“I have slept many eons,” the god said forlornly. “My dreams have been

dark. I wake fitfully, and each time my waking is shorter. Now we are near

the end.”

“What?” Grover cried. “But no! You’re right here!”

“My dear satyr,” Pan said. “I tried to tell the world, two thousand years

ago. I announced it to Lysas, a satyr very much like you. he lived in Ephesos,

and he tried to spread the word.”

Annabeth’s eyes widened. “The old story. A sailor passing by the coast of

Ephesos heard a voice crying from the shore, ‘Tell them the great god Pan is

dead.’”

“But that wasn’t true!” Grover said.

“Your kind never believed it,” Pan said. “You sweet, stubborn satyrs

refused to accept my passing. And I love you for that, but you only delayed

the inevitable. You only prolonged my long, painful passing, my dark

twilight sleep. It must end.”

“No!” Grover’s voice trembled.

“Dear Grover,” Pan said. “You must accept the truth. Your companion,

Nico, he understands.”

Nico nodded slowly. “He’s dying. He should have died long ago.

This…this is more like a memory.”

“But gods can’t die,” Grover said.

“They can fade,” Pan said, “when everything they stood for is gone.

When they cease to have power, and their sacred places disappear. The wild,

my dear Grover, is so small now, so shattered, that no god can save it. My

realm is gone. That is why I need you to carry a message. You must go back

to the council. You must tell the satyrs, and the dryads, and the other spirits

of nature, that the great god Pan is dead. Tell them of my passing. Because

they must stop waiting for me to save them. I cannot. The only salvation you

must make yourself. Each of you must—”

He stopped and frowned at the dodo bird, who had started humming again.

“Dede, what are you doing?” Pan demanded. “Are you singing Kumbaya

again?”

Dede looked up innocently and blinked her yellow eyes.

Pan sighed. “Everybody’s a cynic. But as I was saying, my dear Grover,

each of you must take up my calling.”

“But…no!” Grover whimpered.

“Be strong,” Pan said. “You have found me. And now you must release

me. You must carry on my spirit. It can no longer be carried by a god. It

must be taken up by all of you.”

Pan looked straight at me with his clear blue eyes, and I realized he

wasn’t just talking about satyrs. He meant half-bloods, too, and humans.

Everyone.

“Percy Jackson,” the god said. “I know what you have seen today. I know

your doubts. But I give you this news: when the time comes, you will not be

ruled by fear.”

He turned to Annabeth. “Daughter of Athena, your time is coming. You

will play a great role, though it may not be the role you imagined.”

Then he looked at Tyson. “Master Cyclops, do not despair. Heroes rarely

live up to our expectations. But you, Tyson—your name shall live among

the Cyclopes for generations. And Miss Rachel Dare…”

Rachel flinched when he said her name. She backed up like she was guilty

of something, but Pan only smiled. He raised his hand in a blessing.

“I know you believe you cannot make amends,” he said. “But you are just

as important as your father.”

“I—” Rachel faltered. A tear traced her cheek.

“I know you don’t believe this now,” Pan said. “But look for

opportunities. They will come.”

Finally he turned back toward Grover. “My dear satyr,” Pan said kindly,

“will you carry my message?”

“I—I can’t.”

“You can,” Pan said. “You are the strongest and the bravest. Your heart is

true. You have believed in me more than anyone ever has, which is why you

must bring the message, and why you must be the first to release me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know,” the god said. “But my name, Pan…originally it meant rustic.

Did you know that? But over the years it has come to mean all. The spirit of

the wild must pass to all of you now. You must tell each one you meet: if

you would find Pan, take up Pan’s spirit. Remake the wild, a little at a time,

each in your own corner of the world. You cannot wait for anyone else, even

a god, to do that for you.”

Grover wiped his eyes. Then slowly he stood. “I’ve spent my whole life

looking for you. Now…I release you.”

Pan smiled. “Thank you, dear satyr. My final blessing.”

He closed his eyes, and the god dissolved. White mist divided into wisps

of energy, but this kind of energy wasn’t scary like the blue power I’d seen

from Kronos. It filled the room. A curl of smoke went straight into my

mouth, and Grover’s and the others. But I think a little more of it went into

Grover. The crystals dimmed. The animals gave us a sad look. Dede the

dodo sighed. Then they all turned gray and crumbled to dust. The vines

withered. And we were alone in a dark cave, with an empty bed.

I switched on my flashlight.

Grover took a deep breath.

“Are…are you okay?” I asked him.

He looked older and sadder. He took his cap from Annabeth, brushed off

the mud, and stuck it firmly on his curly head.

“We should go now,” he said, “and tell them. The great god Pan is dead.”

 

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