The Last olympian

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CHAPTER TWENTY: BLACKJACK GETS JACKED

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Annabeth and I were on our way out when I spotted Hermes in a side courtyard of the palace. He was

staring at an Iris-message in the mist of a fountain.

I glanced at Annabeth. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

"You sure?" Then she studied my face. "Yeah, you're sure."

Hermes didn't seem to notice me approach. The Iris-message images were going so fast I could hardly

understand them. Mortal newscasts from all over the country flashed by: scenes of Typhon's destruction,

the wreckage our battle had left across Manhattan, the president doing a news conference, the mayor of

New York, some army vehicles riding down the Avenue of the Americas.

"Amazing," Hermes murmured. He turned toward me. "Three thousand years, and I will never get

over the power of the Mist . . . and mortal ignorance."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality."

"It was the right choice."

Hermes looked at me curiously, then returned his attention to the Iris-message. "Look at them.

They've already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how

all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep

showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up

with a logical explanation for that."

"How bad is the city?"

Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New

York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few

weeks; and of course I'll be helping."

"You?"

"I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary,

help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak

earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth."

He sounded bitter. George and Martha curled around his caduceus, but they were silent, which made

me think that Hermes was really really angry. I probably should've kept quiet, but I said, "I owe you an

apology."

Hermes gave me a cautious look. "And why is that?"

"I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his

future and didn't do anything to stop it."

"I did know his future," Hermes said miserably.

"But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he'd turn evil. You understood what he would do in

the end. You knew he'd make the right choice. But you couldn't tell him, could you?"

Hermes stared at the fountain. "No one can tamper with fate, Percy, not even a god. If I had warned

him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would've made things even worse. Staying

silent, staying away from him . . . that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"You had to let him find his own path," I said, "and play his part in saving Olympus."

Hermes sighed. "I should not have gotten mad at Annabeth. When Luke visited her in San Francisco .

. . well, I knew she would have a part to play in his fate. I foresaw that much. I thought perhaps she could

do what I could not and save him. When she refused to go with him, I could barely contain my rage. I

should have known better. I was really angry with myself."

"Annabeth did save him," I said. "Luke died a hero. He sacrificed himself to kill Kronos."

"I appreciate your words, Percy. But Kronos isn't dead. You can't kill a Titan."

"Then—"

"I don't know," Hermes grumbled. "None of us do. Blown to dust. Scattered to the wind. With luck,

he's spread so thin that he'll never be able to form a consciousness again, much less a body. But don't

mistake him for dead, Percy."

My stomach did a queasy somersault. "What about the other Titans?"

"In hiding," Hermes said. "Prometheus sent Zeus a message with a bunch of excuses for supporting

Kronos. 'I was just trying to minimize the damage,' blah, blah. He'll keep his head low for a few centuries

if he's smart. Krios has fled, and Mount Othrys has crumbled into ruins. Oceanus slipped back into the

deep ocean when it was clear Kronos had lost. Meanwhile, my son Luke is dead. He died believing I

didn't care about him. I will never forgive myself."

Hermes slashed his caduceus through the mist. The Iris-picture disappeared.

"A long time ago," I said, "you told me the hardest thing about being a god was not being able to help

your children. You also told me that you couldn't give up on your family, no matter how tempting they

made it."

"And now you know I'm a hypocrite?"

"No, you were right, Luke loved you. At the end, he realized his fate. I think he realized why you

couldn't help him. He remembered what was important."

"Too late for him and me."

"You have other children. Honor Luke by recognizing them. All the gods can do that."

Hermes's shoulders sagged. "They'll try, Percy. Oh, we'll all try to keep our promise. And maybe for a

while things will get better. But we gods have never been good at keeping oaths. You were born because

of a broken promise, eh? Eventually we'll become forgetful. We always do."

"You can change."

Hermes laughed. "After three thousand years, you think the gods can change their nature?"

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

Hermes seemed surprised by that. "You think . . . Luke actually loved me? After all that happened?"

"I'm sure of it."

Hermes stared at the fountain. "I'll give you a list of my children. There's a boy in Wisconsin. Two

girls in Los Angeles. A few others. Will you see that they get to camp?"

"I promise," I said. "And I won't forget."

George and Martha twirled around the caduceus. I know snakes can't smile, but they seemed to be

trying.

"Percy Jackson," Hermes said, "you might just teach us a thing or two."

Another god was waiting for me on the way out of Olympus. Athena stood in the middle of the road with

her arms crossed and a look on her face that made me think Uh-oh. She'd changed out of her armor, into

jeans and a white blouse, but she didn't look any less warlike. Her gray eyes blazed.

"Well, Percy," she said. "You will stay mortal."

"Um, yes, ma'am."

"I would know your reasons."

"I want to be a regular guy. I want to grow up. Have, you know, a regular high school experience."

"And my daughter?"

"I couldn't leave her," I admitted, my throat dry. "Or Grover," I added quickly. "Or—"

"Spare me." Athena stepped close to me, and I could feel her aura of power making my skin itch. "I

once warned you, Percy Jackson, that to save a friend you would destroy the world. Perhaps I was

mistaken. You seem to have saved both your friends and the world. But think very carefully about how

you proceed from here. I have given you the benefit of the doubt. Don't mess up."

Just to prove her point, she erupted in a column of flame, charring the front of my shirt.

Annabeth was waiting for me at the elevator. "Why do you smell like smoke?"

"Long story," I said. Together we made our way down to the street level. Neither of us said a word.

The music was awful—Neil Diamond or something. I should've made that part of my gift from the gods:

better elevator tunes.

When we got into the lobby, I found my mother and Paul arguing with the bald security guy, who'd

returned to his post.

"I'm telling you," my mom yelled, "we have to go up! My son—" Then she saw me and her eyes

widened. "Percy!"

She hugged the breath right out of me.

"We saw the building lit up blue," she said. "But then you didn't come down. You went up hours

ago!"

"She was getting a bit anxious," Paul said drily.

"I'm all right," I promised as my mom hugged Annabeth. "Everything's okay now."

"Mr. Blofis," Annabeth said, "that was wicked sword work."

Paul shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do. But Percy, is this really . . . I mean, this story about the

six hundredth floor?"

"Olympus," I said. "Yeah."

Paul looked at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. "I'd like to see that."

"Paul," my mom chided. "It's not for mortals. Anyway, the important thing is we're safe. All of us."

I was about to relax. Everything felt perfect. Annabeth and I were okay. My mom and Paul had

survived. Olympus was saved.

But the life of a demigod is never so easy. Just then Nico ran in from the street, and his face told me

something was wrong.

"It's Rachel," he said. "I just ran into her down on 32nd Street."

Annabeth frowned. "What's she done this time?"

"It's where she's gone," Nico said. "I told her she would die if she tried, but she insisted. She just took

Blackjack and—"

"She took my pegasus?" I demanded.

Nico nodded. "She's heading to Half-Blood Hill. She said she had to get to camp."

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE: I AM DUMPED

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Nobody steals my pegasus. Not even Rachel. I wasn't sure if I was more angry or amazed or worried.

"What was she thinking?" Annabeth said as we ran for the river. Unfortunately, I had a pretty good

idea, and it filled me with dread.

The traffic was horrible. Everybody was out on the streets gawking at the war zone damage. Police

sirens wailed on every block. There was no possibility of catching a cab, and the pegasi had flown away. I

would've settled for some Party Ponies, but they had disappeared along with most of the root beer in

Midtown. So we ran, pushing through mobs of dazed mortals that clogged the sidewalks.

"She'll never get through the defenses," Annabeth said. "Peleus will eat her."

I hadn't considered that. The Mist wouldn't fool Rachel like it would most people. She'd be able to

find the camp no problem, but I'd been hoping the magical boundaries would just keep her out like a force

field. It hadn't occurred to me that Peleus might attack.

"We've got to hurry." I glanced at Nico. "I don't suppose you could conjure up some skeleton horses."

He wheezed as he ran. "So tired . . . couldn't summon a dog bone."

Finally we scrambled over the embankment to the shore, and I let out a loud whistle. I hated doing it.

Even with the sand dollar I'd given the East River for a magic cleaning, the water here was pretty

polluted. I didn't want to make any sea animals sick, but they came to my call.

Three wake lines appeared in the gray water, and a pod of hippocampi broke the surface. They

whinnied unhappily, shaking the river muck from their manes. They were beautiful creatures, with

multicolored fish tails, and the heads and forelegs of white stallions. The hippocampus in front was much

bigger than the others—a ride fit for a Cyclops.

"Rainbow!" I called. "How's it going, buddy?"

He neighed a complaint.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I said. "But it's an emergency. We need to get to camp."

He snorted.

"Tyson?" I said. "Tyson is fine! I'm sorry he's not here. He's a big general now in the Cyclops army."

"NEEEEIGGGGH!"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll still bring you apples. Now, about that ride . . ."

In no time, Annabeth, Nico, and I were zipping up the East River faster than Jet Skis. We sped under

the Throgs Neck Bridge and headed for Long Island Sound.

It seemed like forever until we saw the beach at camp. We thanked the hippocampi and waded ashore,

only to find Argus waiting for us. He stood in the sand with his arms crossed, his hundred eyes glaring at

us.

"Is she here?" I asked.

He nodded grimly.

"Is everything okay?" Annabeth said.

Argus shook his head.

We followed him up the trail. It was surreal being back at camp, because everything looked so

peaceful: no burning buildings, no wounded fighters. The cabins were bright in the sunshine, and the

fields glittered with dew. But the place was mostly empty.

Up at the Big House, something was definitely wrong. Green light was shooting out all the windows,

just like I'd seen in my dream about May Castellan. Mist—the magical kind—swirled around the yard.

Chiron lay on a horse-size stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing around him.

Blackjack cantered nervously in the grass.

Don't blame me, boss! he pleaded when he saw me. The weird girl made me do it!

Rachel Elizabeth Dare stood at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms were raised like she was

waiting for someone inside the house to throw her a ball.

"What's she doing?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get past the barriers?"

"She flew," one of the satyrs said, looking accusingly at Blackjack. "Right past the dragon, right

through the magic boundaries."

"Rachel!" I called, but the satyrs stopped me when I tried to go any closer.

"Percy, don't," Chiron warned. He winced as he tried to move. His left arm was in a sling, his two

back legs were in splints, and his head was wrapped in bandages. "You can't interrupt."

"I thought you explained things to her!"

"I did. And I invited her here."

I stared at him in disbelief. "You said you'd never let anyone try again! You said—"

"I know what I said, Percy. But I was wrong. Rachel had a vision about the curse of Hades. She

believes it may be lifted now. She convinced me she deserves a chance."

"And if the curse isn't lifted? If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!"

The Mist swirled around Rachel. She shivered like she was going into shock.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Stop!"

I ran toward her, ignoring the satyrs. I got within ten feet and hit something like an invisible beach

ball. I bounced back and landed in the grass.

Rachel opened her eyes and turned. She looked like she was sleepwalking—like she could see me,

but only in a dream.

"It's all right." Her voice sounded far away. "This is why I've come."

"You'll be destroyed!"

She shook her head. "This is where I belong, Percy. I finally understand why."

It sounded too much like what May Castellan had said. I had to stop her, but I couldn't even get to my

feet.

The house rumbled. The door flew open and green light poured out. I recognized the warm musty

smell of snakes.

Mist curled into a hundred smoky serpents, slithering up the porch columns, curling around the house.

Then the Oracle appeared in the doorway.

The withered mummy shuffled forward in her rainbow dress. She looked even worse than usual,

which is saying a lot. Her hair was falling out in clumps. Her leathery skin was cracking like the seat of a

worn-out bus. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into space, but I got the creepiest feeling she was being

drawn straight toward Rachel.

Rachel held out her arms. She didn't look scared.

"You've waited too long," Rachel said. "But I'm here now."

The sun blazed more brightly. A man appeared above the porch, floating in the air—a blond dude in a

white toga, with sunglasses and a cocky smile.

"Apollo," I said.

He winked at me but held up his finger to his lips.

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he said. "You have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are you sure

you want this?"

Rachel nodded. "It's my destiny."

"Do you accept the risks?"

"I do."

"Then proceed," the god said.

Rachel closed her eyes. "I accept this role. I pledge myself to Apollo, God of Oracles. I open my eyes

to the future and embrace the past. I accept the spirit of Delphi, Voice of the Gods, Speaker of Riddles,

Seer of Fate."

I didn't know where she was getting the words, but they flowed out of her as the Mist thickened. A

green column of smoke, like a huge python, uncoiled from the mummy's mouth and slithered down the

stairs, curling affectionately around Rachel's feet. The Oracle's mummy crumbled, falling away until it

was nothing but a pile of dust in an old tie-dyed dress. Mist enveloped Rachel in a column.

For a moment I couldn't see her at all. Then the smoke cleared.

Rachel collapsed and curled into the fetal position. Annabeth, Nico, and I rushed forward, but Apollo

said, "Stop! This is the most delicate part."

"What's going on?" I demanded. "What do you mean?"

Apollo studied Rachel with concern. "Either the spirit takes hold, or it doesn't."

"And if it doesn't?" Annabeth asked.

"Five syllables," Apollo said, counting them on his fingers. "That would be real bad."

Despite Apollo's warning, I ran forward and knelt over Rachel. The smell of the attic was gone. The

Mist sank into the ground and the green light faded. But Rachel was still pale. She was barely breathing.

Then her eyes fluttered open. She focused on me with difficulty. "Percy."

"Are you okay?"

She tried to sit up. "Ow." She pressed her hands to her temples.

"Rachel," Nico said, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could see you dying."

"I'm all right," she murmured. "Please, help me up. The visions—they're a little disorienting."

"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

Apollo drifted down from the porch. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Oracle of

Delphi."

"You're kidding," Annabeth said.

Rachel managed a weak smile. "It's a little surprising to me too, but this is my fate. I saw it when I

was in New York. I know why I was born with true sight. I was meant to become the Oracle."

I blinked. "You mean you can tell the future now?"

"Not all the time," she said. "But there are visions, images, words in my mind. When someone asks

me a question, I . . . Oh no—"

"It's starting," Apollo announced.

Rachel doubled over like someone had punched her. Then she stood up straight and her eyes glowed

serpent green.

When she spoke, her voice sounded tripled—like three Rachels were talking at once:

"Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.

To storm or fire, the world must fall.

An oath to keep with a final breath,

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

At the last word, Rachel collapsed. Nico and I caught her and helped her to the porch. Her skin was

feverish.

"I'm all right," she said, her voice returning to normal.

"What was that?" I asked.

She shook her head, confused. "What was what?"

"I believe," Apollo said, "that we just heard the next Great Prophecy."

"What does it mean?" I demanded.

Rachel frowned. "I don't even remember what I said."

"No," Apollo mused. "The spirit will only speak through you occasionally. The rest of the time, our

Rachel will be much as she's always been. There's no point in grilling her, even if she has just issued the

next big prediction for the future of the world."

"What?" I said. "But—"

"Percy," Apollo said, "I wouldn't worry too much. The last Great Prophecy about you took almost

seventy years to complete. This one may not even happen in your lifetime."

I thought about the lines Rachel had spoken in that creepy voice: about storm and fire and the Doors

of Death. "Maybe," I said, "but it didn't sound so good."

"No," said Apollo cheerfully. "It certainly didn't. She's going to make a wonderful Oracle!"

It was hard to drop the subject, but Apollo insisted that Rachel needed to rest, and she did look pretty

disoriented.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said. "Back on Olympus, I didn't explain everything to you, but the calling

frightened me. I didn't think you'd understand."

"I still don't," I admitted. "But I guess I'm happy for you."

Rachel smiled. "Happy probably isn't the right word. Seeing the future isn't going to be easy, but it's

my destiny. I only hope my family . . ."

She didn't finish her thought.

"Will you still go to Clarion Academy?" I asked.

"I made a promise to my father. I guess I'll try to be a normal kid during the school year, but—"

"But right now you need sleep," Apollo scolded. "Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for

our new Oracle, do you?"

"No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him.

"Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought."

"I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the

entrance . . . really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those

home theater systems."

Chiron cleared his throat loudly.

"What?" Apollo demanded.

Rachel kissed me on the cheek. "Good-bye, Percy," she whispered. "And I don't have to see the future

to tell you what to do now, do I?"

Her eyes seemed more piercing than before.

I blushed. "No."

"Good," she said. Then she turned and followed Apollo into the Big House.

The rest of the day was as strange as the beginning. Campers trickled in from New York by car, pegasus,

and chariot. The wounded were cared for. The dead were given proper funeral rites at the campfire.

Silena's shroud was hot pink, but embroidered with an electric spear. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins

both claimed her as a hero, and lit the shroud together. No one mentioned the word spy. That secret

burned to ashes as the designer perfume smoke drifted into the sky.

Even Ethan Nakamura was given a shroud—black silk with a logo of swords crossed under a set of

scales. As his shroud went up in flames, I hoped Ethan knew he had made a difference in the end. He'd

paid a lot more than an eye, but the minor gods would finally get the respect they deserved.

Dinner at the pavilion was low-key. The only highlight was Juniper the tree nymph, who screamed,

"Grover!" and gave her boyfriend a flying tackle hug, making everybody cheer. They went down to the

beach to take a moonlit walk, and I was happy for them, though the scene reminded me of Silena and

Beckendorf, which made me sad.

Mrs. O'Leary romped around happily, eating everybody's table scraps. Nico sat at the main table with

Chiron and Mr. D, and nobody seemed to think this was out of place. Everybody was patting Nico on the

back, complimenting him on his fighting. Even the Ares kids seemed to think he was pretty cool. Hey,

show up with an army of undead warriors to save the day, and suddenly you're everybody's best friend.

Slowly, the dinner crowd trickled away. Some went to the campfire for a sing-along. Others went to

bed. I sat at the Poseidon table by myself and watched the moonlight on Long Island Sound. I could see

Grover and Juniper at the beach, holding hands and talking. It was peaceful.

"Hey." Annabeth slid next to me on the bench. "Happy birthday."

She was holding a huge misshapen cupcake with blue icing.

I stared at her. "What?"

"It's August 18th," she said. "Your birthday, right?"

I was stunned. It hadn't even occurred to me, but she was right. I had turned sixteen this morning—

the same morning I'd made the choice to give Luke the knife. The prophecy had come true right on

schedule, and I hadn't even thought about the fact that it was my birthday.

"Make a wish," she said.

"Did you bake this yourself?" I asked.

"Tyson helped."

"That explains why it looks like a chocolate brick," I said. "With extra blue cement."

Annabeth laughed.

I thought for a second, then blew out the candle.

We cut it in half and shared, eating with our fingers. Annabeth sat next to me, and we watched the

ocean. Crickets and monsters were making noise in the woods, but otherwise it was quiet.

"You saved the world," she said.

"We saved the world."

"And Rachel is the new Oracle, which means she won't be dating anybody."

"You don't sound disappointed," I noticed.

Annabeth shrugged. "Oh, I don't care."

"Uh-huh."

She raised an eyebrow. "You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?"

"You'd probably kick my butt."

"You know I'd kick your butt."

I brushed the cake off my hands. "When I was at the River Styx, turning invulnerable . . . Nico said I

had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."

Annabeth kept her eyes on the horizon. "Yeah?"

"Then up on Olympus," I said, "when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking—"

"Oh, you so wanted to."

"Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought—I didn't want things to stay the same for

eternity, because things could always get better. And I was thinking . . ." My throat felt really dry.

"Anyone in particular?" Annabeth asked, her voice soft.

I looked over and saw that she was trying not to smile.

"You're laughing at me," I complained.

"I am not!"

"You are so not making this easy."

Then she laughed for real, and she put her hands around my neck. "I am never, ever going to make

things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it."

When she kissed me, I had the feeling my brain was melting right through my body.

I could've stayed that way forever, except a voice behind us growled, "Well, it's about time!"

Suddenly the pavilion was filled with torchlight and campers. Clarisse led the way as the

eavesdroppers charged and hoisted us both onto their shoulders.

"Oh, come on!" I complained. "Is there no privacy?"

"The lovebirds need to cool off!" Clarisse said with glee.

"The canoe lake!" Connor Stoll shouted.

With a huge cheer, they carried us down the hill, but they kept us close enough to hold hands.

Annabeth was laughing, and I couldn't help laughing too, even though my face was completely red.

We held hands right up to the moment they dumped us in the water.

Afterward, I had the last laugh. I made an air bubble at the bottom of the lake. Our friends kept

waiting for us to come up, but hey—when you're the son of Poseidon, you don't have to hurry.

And it was pretty much the best underwater kiss of all time.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: WE SAY GOOD-BYE, SORT OF

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Camp went late that summer. It lasted two more weeks, right up to the start of a new school year, and I

have to admit they were the best two weeks of my life.

Of course, Annabeth would kill me if I said anything different, but there was a lot of other great stuff

going on too. Grover had taken over the satyr seekers and was sending them out across the world to find

unclaimed half-bloods. So far, the gods had kept their promise. New demigods were popping up all over

the place—not just in America, but in a lot of other countries as well.

"We can hardly keep up," Grover admitted one afternoon as we were taking a break at the canoe lake.

"We're going to need a bigger travel budget, and I could use a hundred more satyrs."

"Yeah, but the satyrs you have are working super hard," I said. "I think they're scared of you."

Grover blushed. "That's silly. I'm not scary."

"You're a lord of the Wild, dude. The chosen one of Pan. A member of the Council of—"

"Stop it!" Grover protested. "You're as bad as Juniper. I think she wants me to run for president next."

He chewed on a tin can as we stared across the pond at the line of new cabins under construction. The

U-shape would soon be a complete rectangle, and the demigods had really taken to the new task with

gusto.

Nico had some undead builders working on the Hades cabin. Even though he was still the only kid in

it, it was going to look pretty cool: solid obsidian walls with a skull over the door and torches that burned

with green fire twenty-four hours a day. Next to that were the cabins of Iris, Nemesis, Hecate, and several

others I didn't recognize. They kept adding new ones to the blueprints every day. It was going so well,

Annabeth and Chiron were talking about adding an entirely new wing of cabins just so they could have

enough room.

The Hermes cabin was a lot less crowded now, because most of the unclaimed kids had received

signs from their godly parents. It happened almost every night, and every night more demigods straggled

over the property line with the satyr guides, usually with some nasty monsters pursuing them, but almost

all of them made it through.

"It's going to be a lot different next summer," I said. "Chiron's expecting we'll have twice as many

campers."

"Yeah," Grover agreed, "but it'll be the same old place."

He sighed contentedly.

I watched as Tyson led a group of Cyclops builders. They were hoisting huge stones in place for the

Hecate cabin, and I knew it was a delicate job. Each stone was engraved with magical writing, and if they

dropped one, it would either explode or turn everyone within half a mile into a tree. I figured nobody but

Grover would like that.

"I'll be traveling a lot," Grover warned, "between protecting nature and finding half-bloods. I may not

see you as much."

"Won't change anything," I said. "You're still my best friend."

He grinned. "Except for Annabeth."

"That's different."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It sure is."

In the late afternoon, I was taking one last walk along the beach when a familiar voice said, "Good day

for fishing."

My dad, Poseidon, was standing knee-deep in the surf, wearing his typical Bermuda shorts, beat-up

cap, and a real subtle pink-and-green Tommy Bahama shirt. He had a deep-sea fishing rod in his hands,

and when he cast it the line went way out—like halfway across Long Island Sound.

"Hey, Dad," I said. "What brings you here?"

He winked. "Never really got to talk in private on Olympus. I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me? You came to the rescue."

"Yes, and I got my palace destroyed in the process, but you know—palaces can be rebuilt. I've gotten

so many thank-you cards from the other gods. Even Ares wrote one, though I think Hera forced him to.

It's rather gratifying. So, thank you. I suppose even the gods can learn new tricks."

The Sound began to boil. At the end of my dad's line, a huge green sea serpent erupted from the

water. It thrashed and fought, but Poseidon just sighed. Holding his fishing pole with one hand, he

whipped out his knife and cut the line. The monster sank below the surface.

"Not eating size," he complained. "I have to release the little ones or the game wardens will be all

over me."

"Little ones?"

He grinned. "You're doing well with those new cabins, by the way. I suppose this means I can claim

all those other sons and daughters of mine and send you some siblings next summer."

"Ha-ha."

Poseidon reeled in his empty line.

I shifted my feet. "Um, you were kidding, right?"

Poseidon gave me one of his inside-joke winks, and I still didn't know whether he was serious or not.

"I'll see you soon, Percy. And remember, know which fish are big enough to land, eh?"

With that he dissolved in the sea breeze, leaving a fishing pole lying in the sand.

That evening was the last night of camp—the bead ceremony. The Hephaestus cabin had designed the

bead this year. It showed the Empire State Building, and etched in tiny Greek letters, spiraling around the

image, were the names of all the heroes who had died defending Olympus. There were too many names,

but I was proud to wear the bead. I put it on my camp necklace—four beads now. I felt like an old-timer. I

thought about the first campfire I'd ever attended, back when I was twelve, and how I'd felt so at home.

That at least hadn't changed.

"Never forget this summer!" Chiron told us. He had healed remarkably well, but he still trotted in

front of the fire with a slight limp. "We have discovered bravery and friendship and courage this summer.

We have upheld the honor of the camp."

He smiled at me, and everybody cheered. As I looked at the fire, I saw a little girl in a brown dress

tending the flames. She winked at me with red glowing eyes. No one else seemed to notice her, but I

realized maybe she preferred it that way.

"And now," Chiron said, "early to bed! Remember, you must vacate your cabins by noon tomorrow

unless you've made arrangements to stay the year with us. The cleaning harpies will eat any stragglers,

and I'd hate to end the summer on a sour note!"

The next morning, Annabeth and I stood at the top of Half-Blood Hill. We watched the buses and vans

pull away, taking most of the campers back to the real world. A few old-timers would be staying behind,

and a few of the newcomers, but I was heading back to Goode High School for my sophomore year—the

first time in my life I'd ever done two years at the same school.

"Good-bye," Rachel said to us as she shouldered her bag. She looked pretty nervous, but she was

keeping a promise to her father and attending Clarion Academy in New Hampshire. It would be next

summer before we got our Oracle back.

"You'll do great." Annabeth hugged her. Funny, she seemed to get along fine with Rachel these days.

Rachel bit her lip. "I hope you're right. I'm a little worried. What if somebody asks what's on the next

math test and I start spouting a prophecy in the middle of geometry class? The Pythagorean theorem shall

be problem two. . . . Gods, that would be embarrassing."

Annabeth laughed, and to my relief, it made Rachel smile.

"Well," she said, "you two be good to each other." Go figure, but she looked at me like I was some

kind of troublemaker. Before I could protest, Rachel wished us well and ran down the hill to catch her

ride.

Annabeth, thank goodness, would be staying in New York. She'd gotten permission from her parents

to attend a boarding school in the city so she could be close to Olympus and oversee the rebuilding

efforts.

"And close to me?" I asked.

"Well, someone's got a big sense of his own importance." But she laced her fingers through mine. I

remembered what she'd told me in New York, about building something permanent, and I thought—just

maybe—we were off to a good start.

The guard dragon Peleus curled contentedly around the pine tree underneath the Golden Fleece and

began to snore, blowing steam with every breath.

"You've been thinking about Rachel's prophecy?" I asked Annabeth.

She frowned. "How did you know?"

"Because I know you."

She bumped me with her shoulder. "Okay, so I have. Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. I

wonder who they'll be. We're going to have so many new faces next summer."

"Yep," I agreed. "And all that stuff about the world falling in storm or fire."

She pursed her lips. "And foes at the Doors of Death. I don't know, Percy, but I don't like it. I thought

. . . well, maybe we'd get some peace for a change."

"Wouldn't be Camp Half-Blood if it was peaceful," I said.

"I guess you're right . . . Or maybe the prophecy won't happen for years."

"Could be a problem for another generation of demigods," I agreed. "Then we can kick back and

enjoy."

She nodded, though she still seemed uneasy. I didn't blame her, but it was hard to feel too upset on a

nice day, with her next to me, knowing that I wasn't really saying good-bye. We had lots of time.

"Race you to the road?" I said.

"You are so going to lose." She took off down Half-Blood Hill and I sprinted after her.

For once, I didn't look back.