The last olympian

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: WE BREAK A BRIDGE

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Fortunately, Blackjack was on duty.

I did my best taxicab whistle, and within a few minutes two dark shapes circled out of the sky. They

looked like hawks at first, but as they descended I could make out the long galloping legs of pegasi.

Yo, boss. Blackjack landed at a trot, his friend Porkpie right behind him. Man, I thought those wind

gods were gonna knock us to Pennsylvania until we said we were with you!

"Thanks for coming," I told him. "Hey, why do pegasi gallop as they fly, anyway?"

Blackjack whinnied. Why do humans swing their arms as they walk? I dunno, boss. It just feels right.

Where to?

"We need to get to the Williamsburg Bridge," I said.

Blackjack lowered his neck. You're darn right, boss. We flew over it on the way here, and it don't look

good. Hop on!

On the way to the bridge, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. The Minotaur was one of the first

monsters I'd ever defeated. Four years ago he'd nearly killed my mother on Half-Blood Hill. I still had

nightmares about that.

I'd been hoping he would stay dead for a few centuries, but I should've known my luck wouldn't hold.

We saw the battle before we were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after

midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both

directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.

We came in for a low pass, and I saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and

snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, building

fiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's

way. But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields

locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky

trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of

the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched

behind them.

Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got

hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. I didn't see what happened to him next. I didn't want to

know.

"There!" Annabeth called from the back of her pegasus.

Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was Old Beefhead himself.

The last time I'd seen the Minotaur, he'd been wearing nothing but his tighty whities. I don't know

why. Maybe he'd been shaken out of bed to chase me. This time, he was prepared for battle.

From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear—a kiltlike apron of leather and metal flaps,

bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull—hair and hide

and muscle leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns. He

seemed larger than the last time I'd seen him—ten feet tall at least. A double-bladed axe was strapped to

his back, but he was too impatient to use it. As soon as he saw me circling overhead (or sniffed me, more

likely, since his eyesight was bad), he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.

"Blackjack, dive!" I yelled.

What? The pegasus asked. No way could he . . . Holy horse feed!

We were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward us, flipping fender over fender

like a two-ton boomerang. Annabeth and Porkpie swerved madly to the left, while Blackjack tucked in his

wings and plunged. The limo sailed over my head, missing by maybe two inches. It cleared the

suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.

Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car.

"Drop us behind the lines with the Apollo cabin," I told Blackjack. "Stay in earshot but get out of

danger!"

I ain't gonna argue, boss!

Blackjack swooped down behind an overturned school bus, where a couple of campers were hiding.

Annabeth and I leaped off as soon as our pegasi's hooves touched the pavement. Then Blackjack and

Porkpie soared into the night sky.

Michael Yew ran up to us. He was definitely the shortest commando I'd ever seen. He had a bandaged

cut on his arm. His ferrety face was smeared with soot and his quiver was almost empty, but he was

smiling like he was having a great time.

"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

"For now, we're it," I said.

"Then we're dead," he said.

"You still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked.

"Nah," Michael said. "Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not

worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or

some stupid thing."

"Least you tried," I said.

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I

doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"

He drew an arrow and launched it toward the enemy. The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew.

When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's

largest speakers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in

pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said.

"A gift from your dad?" I asked. "God of music?"

Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."

Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion.

"We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the

bridge."

"No," I said. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to

drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?"

I drew my sword.

"Percy," Annabeth said, "let me come with you."

"Too dangerous," I said. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll

distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start

picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."

Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot."

I kept my eyes on Annabeth.

She nodded reluctantly. "All right. Get moving."

Before I could lose my courage, I said, "Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?"

I figured she would punch me. Instead, she drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward us.

"Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see."

I figured it was the best offer I would get, so I stepped out from behind the school bus. I walked up

the bridge in plain sight, straight toward the enemy.

When the Minotaur saw me, his eyes burned with hate. He bellowed—a sound that was somewhere

between a yell, a moo, and a really loud belch.

"Hey, Beef Boy," I shouted back. "Didn't I kill you already?"

He pounded his fist into the hood of a Lexus, and it crumpled like aluminum foil.

A few dracaenae threw flaming javelins at me. I knocked them aside. A hellhound lunged, and I

sidestepped. I could have stabbed it, but I hesitated.

This is not Mrs. O'Leary, I reminded myself. This is an untamed monster. It will kill me and all my

friends.

It pounced again. This time I brought Riptide up in a deadly arc. The hellhound disintegrated into dust

and fur.

More monsters surged forward—snakes and giants and telkhines—but the Minotaur roared at them,

and they backed off

"One on one?" I called. "Just like old times?"

The Minotaur's nostrils quivered. He seriously needed to keep a pack of Aloe Vera Kleenex in his

armor pocket, because that nose was wet and red and pretty gross. He unstrapped his axe and swung it

around.

It was beautiful in a harsh I’m~going~to-gut~you~like~a~fish kind of way. Each of its twin blades

was shaped like an omega: Ω—the last letter of the Greek alphabet. Maybe that was because the axe

would be the last thing his victims ever saw. The shaft was about the same height as the Minotaur, bronze

wrapped in leather. Tied around the base of each blade were lots of bead necklaces. I realized they were

Camp Half-Blood beads—necklaces taken from defeated demigods.

I was so mad, I imagined my eyes glowing just like the Minotaur's. I raised my sword. The monster

army cheered for the Minotaur, but the sound died when I dodged his first swing and sliced his axe in

half, right between the handholds.

"Moo?" he grunted.

"HAAA!" I spun and kicked him in the snout. He staggered backward, trying to regain his footing,

then lowered his head to charge.

He never got the chance. My sword flashed—slicing off one horn, then the other. He tried to grab me.

I rolled away, picking up half of his broken axe. The other monsters backed up in stunned silence, making

a circle around us. The Minotaur bellowed in rage. He was never very smart to begin with, but now his

anger made him reckless. He charged me, and I ran for the edge of the bridge, breaking through a line of

dracaenae.

The Minotaur must've smelled victory. He thought I was trying to get away. His minions cheered. At

the edge of the bridge, I turned and braced the axe against the railing to receive his charge. The Minotaur

didn't even slow down.

CRUNCH.

He looked down in surprise at the axe handle sprouting from his breastplate.

"Thanks for playing," I told him.

I lifted him by his legs and tossed him over the side of the bridge. Even as he fell, he was

disintegrating, turning back into dust, his essence returning to Tartarus.

I turned toward his army. It was now roughly one hundred and ninety-nine to one. I did the natural

thing. I charged them.

You're going to ask how the "invincible" thing worked: if I magically dodged every weapon, or if the

weapons hit me and just didn't harm me. Honestly, I don't remember. All I knew was that I wasn't going

to let these monsters invade my hometown.

I sliced through armor like it was made of paper. Snake women exploded. Hellhounds melted to

shadow. I slashed and stabbed and whirled, and I might have even laughed once or twice—a crazy laugh

that scared me as much as it did my enemies. I was aware of the Apollo campers behind me shooting

arrows, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled—about

twenty left alive out of two hundred.

I followed with the Apollo campers at my heels.

"Yes!" yelled Michael Yew. "That's what I'm talking about!"

We drove them back toward the Brooklyn side of the bridge. The sky was growing pale m the east. I

could see the toll stations ahead.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!"

Some part of me knew she was right, but I was doing so well, I wanted to destroy every last monster.

Then I saw the crowd at the base of the bridge. The retreating monsters were running straight toward

their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armor, mounted on

skeletal horses. One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design.

The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm, and I recognized Kronos himself, his eyes

like molten gold.

Annabeth and the Apollo campers faltered. The monsters we'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line

and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in our direction. He was a quarter mile away, but I

swear I could see him smile.

"Now," I said, "we pull back."

The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered

against the pavement. Our archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept

riding.

"Retreat!" I told my friends. "I'll hold them.'"

In a matter of seconds they were on me.

Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but Annabeth stayed right beside me, fighting with her knife

and mirrored shield as we slowly backed up the bridge.

Kronos's cavalry swirled around us, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced

leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Being the lord of time, I guess he did.

I tried to wound his men, not kill. That slowed me down, but these weren't monsters. They were

demigods who'd fallen under Kronos's spell. I couldn't see faces under l heir battle helmets, but some of

them had probably been my friends. I slashed the legs off their horses and made the skeletal mounts

disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured out they'd better dismount and fight

me on foot.

Annabeth and I stayed shoulder to shoulder, facing opposite directions. A dark shape passed over me,

and I dared to glance up. Blackjack and Porkpie were swooping in, kicking our enemies in the helmets

and flying away like very large kamikaze pigeons.

We'd almost made it to the middle of the bridge when something strange happened. I felt a chill down

my spine—like that old saying about someone walking on your grave. Behind me, Annabeth cried out in

pain.

"Annabeth!" I turned in time to see her fall, clutching her arm. A demigod with a bloody knife stood

over her.

In a flash I understood what had happened. He'd been trying to stab me. Judging from the position of

his blade, he would've taken me—maybe by sheer luck—in the small of my back, my only weak point.

Annabeth had intercepted the knife with her own body.

But why? She didn't know about my weak spot. No one did.

I locked eyes with the enemy demigod. He wore an eye patch under his war helm: Ethan Nakamura,

the son of Nemesis. Somehow he'd survived the explosion on the Princess Andromeda. I slammed him in

the face with my sword hilt so hard I dented his helm.

"Get back!" I slashed the air in a wide arc, driving the rest of the demigods away from Annabeth.

"No one touches her!"

"Interesting," Kronos said.

He towered above me on his skeletal horse, his scythe in one hand. He studied the scene with

narrowed eyes as if he could sense that I'd just come close to death, the way a wolf can smell fear.

"Bravely fought, Percy Jackson," he said. "But it's time to surrender . . . or the girl dies."

"Percy, don't," Annabeth groaned. Her shirt was soaked with blood. I had to get her out of here.

"Blackjack!" I yelled.

As fast as light, the pegasus swooped down and clamped his teeth on the straps of Annabeth's armor.

They soared away over the river before the enemy could even react.

Kronos snarled. "Some day soon, I am going to make pegasus soup. But in the meantime . . ." He

dismounted, his scythe glistening in the dawn light. "I'll settle for another dead demigod."

I met his first strike with Riptide. The impact shook the entire bridge, but I held my ground. Kronos's

smile wavered.

With a yell, I kicked his legs out from under him. His scythe skittered across the pavement. I stabbed

downward, but he rolled aside and regained his footing. His scythe flew back to his hands.

"So . . ." He studied me, looking mildly annoyed. "You had the courage to visit the Styx. I had to

pressure Luke in many ways to convince him. If only you had supplied my host body instead . . . But no

matter. I am still more powerful. I am a TITAN."

He struck the bridge with the butt of his scythe, and a wave of pure force blasted me backward. Cars

went careening. Demigods—even Luke's own men—were blown off the edge of the bridge. Suspension

cords whipped around, and I skidded halfway back to Manhattan.

I got unsteadily to my feet. The remaining Apollo campers had almost made it to the end of the

bridge, except for Michael Yew, who was perched on one of the suspension cables a few yards away

from me, His last arrow was notched in his bow.

"Michael, go!" I screamed.

"Percy, the bridge!" he called. "It's already weak!"

At first I didn't understand. Then I looked down and saw fissures in the pavement. Patches of the road

were half melted from Greek fire. The bridge had taken a beating from Kronos's blast and the exploding

arrows.

"Break it!" Michael yelled. "Use your powers!"

It was a desperate thought—no way it would work— but I stabbed Riptide into the bridge. The magic

blade sank to its hilt m asphalt. Salt water shot from the crack like I'd hit a geyser. I pulled out my blade

and the fissure grew. The bridge shook and began to crumble. Chunks the size of houses fell into the East

River. Kronos's demigods cried out in alarm and scrambled backward. Some were knocked off their feet.

Within a few seconds, a fifty-foot chasm opened in the Williamsburg Bridge between Kronos and me.

The vibrations died. Kronos's men crept to the edge and looked at the hundred-and-thirty-foot drop

into the river.

I didn't feel safe, though. The suspension cables were still attached. The men could get across that

way if they were brave enough. Or maybe Kronos had a magic way to span the gap.

The Titan lord studied the problem. He looked behind him at the rising sun, then smiled across the

chasm. He raised his scythe in a mock salute. "Until this evening, Jackson."

He mounted his horse, whirled around, and galloped back to Brooklyn, followed by his warriors.

I turned to thank Michael Yew, but the words died in my throat. Twenty feet away, a bow lay in the

street. Its owner was nowhere to be seen.

"No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river. Nothing.

I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. I was about to

whistle for Blackjack to help me search, when my mom's phone rang. The LCD display said I had a call

from Finklestein & Associates—probably a demigod calling on a borrowed phone.

I picked up, hoping for good news. Of course I was wrong.

"Percy?" Silena Beauregard sounded like she'd been crying. "Plaza Hotel. You'd better come quickly

and bring a healer from Apollo's cabin. It's . . . it's Annabeth."

CHAPTER TWELVE: RACHEL MAKES A BAD DEAL

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I grabbed Will Solace from the Apollo cabin and told the rest of his siblings to keep searching for

Michael Yew. We borrowed a Yamaha FZI from a sleeping biker and drove to the Plaza Hotel at speeds

that would've given my mom a heart attack. I'd never driven a motorcycle before, but it wasn't any harder

than riding a pegasus.

Along the way, I noticed a lot of empty pedestals that usually held statues. Plan twenty-three seemed

to be working. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

It only took us five minutes to reach the Plaza—an old-fashioned white stone hotel with a gabled blue

roof, sitting at the southeast corner of Central Park.

Tactically speaking, the Plaza wasn't the best place for a headquarters. It wasn't the tallest building in

town, or the most centrally located. But it had old-school style and had attracted a lot of famous demigods

over the years, like the Beatles and Alfred Hitchcock, so I figured we were in good company.

I gunned the Yamaha over the curb and swerved to a stop at the fountain outside the hotel.

Will and I hopped off. The statue at the top of the fountain called down, "Oh, fine. I suppose you

want me to watch your bike too!"

She was a life-size bronze standing in the middle of a granite bowl. She wore only a bronze sheet

around her legs, and she was holding a basket of metal fruit. I'd never paid her too much attention before.

Then again, she'd never talked to me before.

"Are you supposed to be Demeter?" I asked.

A bronze apple sailed over my head.

"Everyone thinks I'm Demeter.'" she complained. "I'm Pompona, the Roman Goddess of Plenty, but

why should you care? Nobody cares about the minor gods. If you cared about the minor gods, you

wouldn't be losing this war! Three cheers for Morpheus and Hecate, I say!"

"Watch the bike," I told her.

Pompona cursed in Latin and threw more fruit as Will and I ran toward the hotel.

I'd never actually been inside the Plaza. The lobby was impressive, with the crystal chandeliers and the

passed-out rich people, but I didn't pay much attention. A couple of Hunters gave us directions to the

elevators, and we rode up to the penthouse suites.

Demigods had completely taken over the top floors. Campers and Hunters were crashed out on sofas,

washing up in the bathrooms, ripping silk draperies to bandage their wounds, and helping themselves to

snacks and sodas from the minibars. A couple of timber wolves were drinking out of the toilets. I was

relieved to see that so many of my friends had made it through the night alive, but everybody looked beat

up.

"Percy!" Jake Mason clapped me on the shoulder. "We're getting reports—"

"Later," I said. "Where's Annabeth?"

"The terrace. She's alive, man, but . . ."

I pushed past him.

Under different circumstances I would've loved the view from the terrace. It looked straight down

onto Central Park. The morning was clear and bright—perfect for a picnic or a hike, or pretty much

anything except fighting monsters.

Annabeth lay on a lounge chair. Her face was pale and beaded with sweat. Even though she was

covered in blankets, she shivered. Silena Beauregard was wiping her forehead with a cool cloth.

Will and I pushed through a crowd of Athena kids. Will unwrapped Annabeth's bandages to examine

the wound, and I wanted to faint. The bleeding had stopped but the gash looked deep. The skin around the

cut was a horrible shade of green.

"Annabeth . . ." I choked up. She'd taken that knife for me. How could I have let that happen?

"Poison on the dagger," she mumbled. "Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

Will Solace exhaled with relief. "It's not so bad, Annabeth. A few more minutes and we would've

been in trouble, but the venom hasn't gotten past the shoulder yet. Just lie still. Somebody hand me some

nectar."

I grabbed a canteen. Will cleaned out the wound with the godly drink while I held Annabeth's hand.

"Ow," she said. "Ow, ow!" She gripped my fingers so tight they turned purple, but she stayed still,

like Will asked. Silena muttered words of encouragement. Will put some silver paste over the wound and

hummed words in Ancient Greek—a hymn to Apollo. Then he applied fresh bandages and stood up

shakily.

The healing must've taken a lot of his energy. He looked almost as pale as Annabeth.

"That should do it," he said. "But we're going to need some mortal supplies."

He grabbed a piece of hotel stationery, jotted down some notes, and handed it to one of the Athena

guys. "There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal—"

"I would," Travis volunteered.

Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency.

I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot more people to treat."

Nobody disagreed. There was hardly a single demigod who hadn't already been wounded . . . except

me.

"Come on, guys," Travis Stoll said. "Let's give Annabeth some space. We've got a drugstore to raid . .

. I mean, visit."

The demigods shuffled back inside. Jake Mason grabbed my shoulder as he was leaving. "We'll talk

later, but it's under control. I'm using Annabeth's shield to keep an eye on things. The enemy withdrew at

sunrise; not sure why. We've got a lookout at each bridge and tunnel."

"Thanks, man," I said.

He nodded. "Just take your time."

He closed the terrace doors behind him, leaving Silena, Annabeth, and me alone.

Silena pressed a cool cloth to Annabeth's forehead. "This is all my fault."

"No," Annabeth said weakly. "Silena, how is it your fault?"

"I've never been any good at camp," she murmured. "Not like you or Percy. If I was a better fighter . .

."

Her mouth trembled. Ever since Beckendorf died she'd been getting worse, and every time I looked at

her, it made me angry about his death all over again. Her expression reminded me of glass—like she

might break any minute. I swore to myself that if I ever found the spy who'd cost her boyfriend his life, I

would give him to Mrs. O'Leary as a chew toy.

"You're a great camper," I told Silena. "You're the best pegasus rider we have. And you get along

with people. Believe me, anyone who can make friends with Clarisse has talent."

She stared at me like I'd just given her an idea. "That's it! We need the Ares cabin. I can talk to

Clarisse. I know I can convince her to help us."

"Whoa, Silena. Even if you could get off the island, Clarisse is pretty stubborn. Once she gets

angry—"

"Please," Silena said. "I can take a pegasus. I know I can make it back to camp. Let me try."

I exchanged looks with Annabeth. She nodded slightly.

I didn't like the idea. I didn't think Silena stood a chance of convincing Clarisse to fight. On the other

hand, Silena was so distracted right now that she would just get herself hurt in battle. Maybe sending her

back to camp would give her something else to focus on.

"All right," I told her. "I can't think of anybody better to try."

Silena threw her arms around me. Then she pushed back awkwardly, glancing at Annabeth. "Um,

sorry. Thank you, Percy! I won't let you down!"

Once she was gone, I knelt next to Annabeth and felt her forehead. She was still burning up.

"You're cute when you're worried," she muttered. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."

"You are not going to die while I owe you a favor," I said. "Why did you take that knife?"

"You would've done the same for me."

It was true. I guess we both knew it. Still, I felt like somebody was poking my heart with a cold metal

rod. "How did you know?"

"Know what?"

I looked around to make sure we were alone. Then I leaned in close and whispered: "My Achilles

spot. If you hadn't taken that knife, I would've died."

She got a faraway look in her eyes. Her breath smelled of grapes, maybe from the nectar. "I don't

know, Percy. I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where . . . where is the spot?"

I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. But this was Annabeth. If I couldn't trust her, I couldn't trust anyone.

"The small of my back."

She lifted her hand. "Where? Here?"

She put her hand on my spine, and my skin tingled. I moved her fingers to the one spot that grounded

me to my mortal life. A thousand volts of electricity seemed to arc through my body.

"You saved me," I said. "Thanks."

She removed her hand, but I kept holding it.

"So you owe me," she said weakly. "What else is new?"

We watched the sun come up over the city. The traffic should've been heavy by now, but there were

no cars honking, no crowds bustling along the sidewalks.

Far away, I could hear a car alarm echo through the streets. A plume of black smoke curled into the

sky somewhere over Harlem. I wondered how many ovens had been left on when the Morpheus spell hit;

how many people had fallen asleep in the middle of cooking dinner. Pretty soon there would be more

fires. Everyone in New York was in danger—and all those lives depended on us.

"You asked me why Hermes was mad at me," Annabeth said.

"Hey, you need to rest—"

"No, I want to tell you. It's been bothering me for a long time." She moved her shoulder and winced.

"Last year, Luke came to see me in San Francisco."

"In person?" I felt like she'd just hit me with a hammer. "He came to your house?"

"This was before we went into the Labyrinth, before . . ." She faltered, but I knew what she meant:

before be turned into Kronos. "He came under a flag of truce. He said he only wanted five minutes to

talk. He looked scared, Percy. He told me Kronos was going to use him to take over the world. He said he

wanted to run away, like the old days. He wanted me to come with him."

"But you didn't trust him."

"Of course not. I thought it was a trick. Plus . . . well, a lot of things had changed since the old days. I

told Luke there was no way. He got mad. He said . . . he said I might as well fight him right there,

because it was the last chance I'd get."

Her forehead broke out in sweat again. The story was taking too much of her energy.

"It's okay," I said. "Try to get some rest."

"You don't understand, Percy. Hermes was right. Maybe if I'd gone with him, I could've changed his

mind. Or—or I had a knife. Luke was unarmed. I could've—"

"Killed him?" I said. "You know that wouldn't have been right."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Luke said Kronos would use him like a stepping stone. Those were his

exact words. Kronos would use Luke, and become even more powerful."

"He did that," I said. "He possessed Luke's body."

"But what if Luke's body is only a transition? What if Kronos has a plan to become even more

powerful? I could've stopped him. The war is my fault."

Her story made me feel like I was back in the Styx, slowly dissolving. I remembered last summer,

when the two-headed god, Janus, had warned Annabeth she would have to make a major choice—and

that had happened after she saw Luke. Pan had also said something to her: You will play a great role,

though it may not be the role you imagined.

I wanted to ask her about the vision Hestia had shown me, about her early days with Luke and Thalia.

I knew it had something to do with my prophecy, but I didn't understand what.

Before I could get up my nerve, the terrace door opened. Connor Stoll stepped through.

"Percy." He glanced at Annabeth like he didn't want to say anything bad in front of her, but I could

tell he wasn't bringing good news. "Mrs. O'Leary just came back with Grover. I think you should talk to

him."

Grover was having a snack in the living room. He was dressed for battle in an armored shirt made from

tree bark and twist ties, with his wooden cudgel and his reed pipes hanging from his belt.

The Demeter cabin had whipped up a whole buffet in the hotel kitchens—everything from pizza to

pineapple ice cream. Unfortunately, Grover was eating the furniture. He'd already chewed the stuffing off

a fancy chair and was now gnawing the armrest.

"Dude," I said, "we're only borrowing this place."

"Blah-ha-ha!" He had stuffing all over his face. "Sorry, Percy. It's just . . . Louis the Sixteenth

furniture. Delicious. Plus I always eat furniture when I get—"

"When you get nervous," I said. "Yeah, I know. So what's up?"

He clopped on his hooves. "I heard about Annabeth. Is she . . .?"

"She's going to be fine. She's resting."

Grover took a deep breath. "That's good. I've mobilized most of the nature spirits in the city—well,

the ones that will listen to me, anyway." He rubbed his forehead. "I had no idea acorns could hurt so

much. Anyway, we're helping out as much as we can."

He told me about the skirmishes they'd seen. Mostly they'd been covering uptown, where we didn't

have enough demigods. Hellhounds had appeared in all sorts of places, shadow-traveling inside our lines,

and the dryads and satyrs had been fighting them off. A young dragon had appeared in Harlem, and a

dozen wood nymphs died before the monster was finally defeated.

As Grover talked, Thalia entered the room with two of her lieutenants. She nodded to me grimly,

went outside to check on Annabeth, and came back in. She listened while Grover completed his report—

the details getting worse and worse.

"We lost twenty satyrs against some giants at Fort Washington," he said, his voice trembling. "Almost

half my kinsmen. River spirits drowned the giants in the end, but . . ."

Thalia shouldered her bow. "Percy, Kronos's forces are still gathering at every bridge and tunnel. And

Kronos isn't the only Titan. One of my Hunters spotted a huge man in golden armor mustering an army on

the Jersey shore. I'm not sure who he is, but he radiates power like only a Titan or god."

I remembered the golden Titan from my dream—the one on Mount Othrys who erupted into flames.

"Great," I said. "Any good news?"

Thalia shrugged. "We've sealed off the subway tunnels into Manhattan. My best trappers took care of

it. Also, it seems like the enemy is waiting for tonight to attack. I think Luke"—she caught herself—"I

mean Kronos needs time to regenerate after each fight. He's still not comfortable with his new form. It's

taking a lot of his power to slow time around the city."

Grover nodded. "Most of his forces are more powerful at night, too. But they'll be back after

sundown."

I tried to think clearly. "Okay. Any word from the gods?"

Thalia shook her head. "I know Lady Artemis would be here if she could. Athena, too. But Zeus has

ordered them to stay at his side. The last I heard, Typhon was destroying the Ohio River valley. He

should reach the Appalachian Mountains by midday."

"So at best," I said, "we've got another two days before he arrives."

Jake Mason cleared his throat. He'd been standing there so silently I'd almost forgotten he was in the

room.

"Percy, something else," he said. "The way Kronos showed up at the Williamsburg Bridge, like he

knew you were going there. And he shifted his forces to our weakest points. As soon as we deployed, he

changed tactics. He barely touched the Lincoln Tunnel, where the Hunters were strong. He went for our

weakest spots, like he knew."

"Like he had inside information," I said. "The spy."

"What spy?" Thalia demanded.

I told her about the silver charm Kronos had shown me, the communication device.

"That's bad," she said. "Very bad."

"It could be anyone," Jake said. "We were all standing there when Percy gave the orders."

"But what can we do?" Grover asked. "Frisk every demigod until we find a scythe charm?"

They all looked at me, waiting for a decision. I couldn't afford to show how panicked I felt, even if

things seemed hopeless.

"We keep fighting," I said. "We can't obsess about this spy. If we're suspicious of each other, we'll

just tear ourselves apart. You guys were awesome last night. I couldn't ask for a braver army. Let's set up

a rotation for the watches. Rest up while you can. We've got a long night ahead of us."

The demigods mumbled agreement. They went their separate ways to sleep or eat or repair their

weapons.

"Percy, you too," Thalia said. "We'll keep an eye on things. Go lie down. We need you in good shape

for tonight."

I didn't argue too hard. I found the nearest bedroom and crashed on the canopied bed. I thought I was

too wired to sleep, but my eyes closed almost immediately.

In my dream, I saw Nico di Angelo alone in the gardens of Hades. He'd just dug a hole in one of

Persephone's flower beds, which I didn't figure would make the queen very happy.

He poured a goblet of wine into the hole and began to chant. "Let the dead taste again. Let them rise

and take this offering. Maria di Angelo, show yourself!"

White smoke gathered. A human figure formed, but it wasn't Nico's mother. It was a girl with dark

hair, olive skin, and the silvery clothes of a Hunter.

"Bianca," Nico said. "But—"

Don't summon our mother, Nico, she warned. She is the one spirit you are forbidden to see.

"Why?" he demanded. "What's our father hiding?"

Pain, Bianca said. Hatred. A curse that stretches back to the Great Prophecy.

"What do you mean?" Nico said. "I have to know!"

The knowledge will only hurt you. Remember what I said: holding grudges is a fatal flaw for children

of Hades.

"I know that," Nico said. "But I'm not the same as I used to be, Bianca. Stop trying to protect me!"

Brother, you don't understand—

Nico swiped his hand through the mist, and Bianca s image dissipated.

"Maria di Angelo," he said again. "Speak to me!"

A different image formed. It was a scene rather than a single ghost. In the mist, I saw Nico and

Bianca as little children, playing in the lobby of an elegant hotel, chasing each other around marble

columns.

A woman sat on a nearby sofa. She wore a black dress, gloves, and a black veiled hat like a star from

an old 1940s movie. She had Bianca's smile and Nico's eyes.

On a chair next to her sat a large oily man in a black pinstripe suit. With a shock, I realized it was

Hades. He was leaning toward the woman, using his hands as he talked, like he was agitated.

"Please, my dear," he said. "You must come to the Underworld. I don't care what Persephone thinks!

I can keep you safe there."

"No, my love." She spoke with an Italian accent. "Raise our children in the land of the dead? I will

not do this."

"Maria, listen to me. The war in Europe has turned the other gods against me. A prophecy has been

made. My children are no longer safe. Poseidon and Zeus have forced me into an agreement. None of us

are to have demigod children ever again."

"But you already have Nico and Bianca. Surely—"

"No! The prophecy warns of a child who turns sixteen. Zeus has decreed that the children I currently

have must be turned over to Camp Half-Blood for proper training, but I know what he means. At best

they'll be watched, imprisoned, turned against their father. Even more likely, he will not take a chance. He

won't allow my demigod children to reach sixteen. He'll find a way to destroy them, and I won't risk that!"

"Certamente," Maria said. "We will stay together. Zeus is un imbecile."

I couldn't help admiring her courage, but Hades glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Maria, please. I

told you, Zeus gave me a deadline of last week to turn over the children. His wrath will be horrible, and I

cannot hide you forever. As long as you are with the children, you are in danger too."

Maria smiled, and again it was creepy how much she looked like her daughter. "You are a god, my

love. You will protect us. But I will not take Nico and Bianca to the Underworld."

Hades wrung his hands. "Then, there is another option. I know a place in the desert where time stands

still. I could send the children there, just for a while, for their own safety, and we could be together. I will

build you a golden palace by the Styx."

Maria di Angelo laughed gently. "You are a kind man, my love. A generous man. The other gods

should see you as I do, and they would not fear you so. But Nico and Bianca need their mother. Besides,

they are only children. The gods wouldn't really hurt them."

"You don't know my family," Hades said darkly. "Please, Maria, I can't lose you."

She touched his lips with her fingers. "You will not lose me. Wait for me while I get my purse. Watch

the children."

She kissed the lord of the dead and rose from the sofa. Hades watched her walk upstairs as if her

every step away caused him pain.

A moment later, he tensed. The children stopped playing as if they sensed something too.

"No!" Hades said. But even his godly powers were too slow. He only had time to erect a wall of black

energy around the children before the hotel exploded.

The force was so violent, the entire mist image dissolved.

When it came into focus again, I saw Hades kneeling in the ruins, holding the broken form of Maria

di Angelo. Fires still burned all around him. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled.

Little Nico and Bianca stared at their mother uncomprehendingly. The Fury Alecto appeared behind

them, hissing and flapping her leathery wings. The children didn't seem to notice her.

"Zeus!" Hades shook his fist at the sky. "I will crush you for this! I will bring her back!"

"My lord, you cannot," Alecto warned. "You of all immortals must respect the laws of death."

Hades glowed with rage. I thought he would show his true form and vaporize his own children, but at

the last moment he seemed to regain control.

"Take them," he told Alecto, choking back a sob. "Wash their memories clean m the Lethe and bring

them to the Lotus Hotel. Zeus will not harm them there."

"As you wish, my lord," Alecto said. "And the woman's body?

"Take her as well," he said bitterly. "Give her the ancient rites."

Alecto, the children, and Maria's body dissolved into shadows, leaving Hades alone in the ruins.

"I warned you," a new voice said.

Hades turned. A girl in a multicolored dress stood by the smoldering remains of the sofa. She had

short black hair and sad eyes. She was no more than twelve. I didn't know her, but she looked strangely

familiar.

"You dare come here?" Hades growled. "I should blast you to dust!"

"You cannot," the girl said. "The power of Delphi protects me."

With a chill, I realized I was looking at the Oracle of Delphi, back when she was alive and young.

Somehow, seeing her like this was even spookier than seeing her as a mummy.

"You've killed the woman I loved!" Hades roared. "Your prophecy brought us to this.'"

He loomed over the girl, but she didn't flinch.

"Zeus ordained the explosion to destroy the children," she said, "because you defied his will. I had

nothing to do with it. And I did warn you to hide them sooner."

"I couldn't! Maria would not let me! Besides, they were innocent."

"Nevertheless, they are your children, which makes them dangerous. Even if you put them away in

the Lotus Hotel, you only delay the problem. Nico and Bianca will never be able to rejoin the world lest

they turn sixteen."

"Because of your so-called Great Prophecy. And you have forced me into an oath to have no other

children. You have left me with nothing!"

"I foresee the future," the girl said. "I cannot change it."

Black fire lit the god's eyes, and I knew something bad was coming. I wanted to yell at the girl to hide

or run.

"Then, Oracle, hear the words of Hades," he growled. "Perhaps I cannot bring back Maria. Nor can I

bring yon an early death. But your soul is still mortal, and I can curse you."

The girl's eyes widened. "You would not—"

"I swear," Hades said, "as long as my children remain outcasts, as long as I labor under the curse of

your Great Prophecy, the Oracle of Delphi will never have another mortal host. You will never rest in

peace. No other will take your place. Your body will wither and die, and still the Oracle's spirit will be

locked inside you. You will speak your bitter prophecies until you crumble to nothing. The Oracle will

die with you!"

The girl screamed, and the misty image was blasted to shreds. Nico fell to his knees in Persephone's

garden, his face white with shock. Standing in front of him was the real Hades, towering in his black

robes and scowling down at his son.

"And just what," he asked Nico, "do you think you're doing?"

A black explosion filled my dreams. Then the scene changed.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare was walking along a white sand beach. She wore a swimsuit with a T-shirt

wrapped around her waist. Her shoulders and face were sunburned.

She knelt and began writing in the surf with her finger. I tried to make out the letters. I thought my

dyslexia was acting up until I realized she was writing in Ancient Greek.

That was impossible. The dream had to be false.

Rachel finished writing a few words and muttered, "What in the world?"

I can read Greek, but I only recognized one word before the sea washed it away: Περσεύς. My name:

Perseus.

Rachel stood abruptly and backed away from the surf.

"Oh, gods," she said. "That's what it means."

She turned and ran, kicking up sand as she raced back to her family's villa.

She pounded up the porch steps, breathing hard. Her father looked up from his Wall Street Journal

"Dad." Rachel marched up to him. "We have to go back."

Her dad's mouth twitched, like he was trying to remember how to smile. "Back? We just got here."

"There's trouble in New York. Percy's in danger."

"Did he call you?"

"No . . . not exactly. But I know. It's a feeling."

Mr. Dare folded his newspaper. "Your mother and I have been looking forward to this vacation for a

long time."

"No you haven't! You both hate the beach! You're just too stubborn to admit it."

"Now, Rachel—"

"I'm telling you something is wrong in New York! The whole city . . . I don't know what exactly, but

it's under attack."

Her father sighed. "I think we would've heard some thing like that on the news."

"No," Rachel insisted. "Not this kind of attack. Have you had any calls since we got here?"

Her father frowned. "No . . . but it is the weekend, in the middle of the summer."

"You always get calls," Rachel said. "You've got to admit that's strange."

Her father hesitated. "We can't just leave. We've spent a lot of money."

"Look," Rachel said. "Daddy . . . Percy needs me. I have to deliver a message. It's life or death."

"What message? What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you.

"Then you can't go."

Rachel closed her eyes like she was getting up her courage. "Dad . . . let me go, and I'll make a deal

with you."

Mr. Dare sat forward. Deals were something he understood. "I'm listening."

"Clarion Ladies Academy. I'll—I'll go there in the fall. I won't even complain. But you have to get me

back to New York right now."

He was silent for a long time. Then he opened his phone and made a call.

"Douglas? Prep the plane. We're leaving for New York. Yes . . . immediately."

Rachel flung her arms around him, and her father seemed surprised, like she'd never hugged him

before.

"I'll make it up to you, Dad!"

He smiled, but his expression was chilly. He studied her like he wasn't seeing his daughter—just the

young lady he wanted her to be, once Clarion Academy got through with her.

"Yes, Rachel," he agreed. "You most certainly will."

The scene faded. I mumbled in my sleep: "Rachel, no!"

I was still tossing and turning when Thalia shook me awake.

"Percy," she said. "Come on. It's late afternoon. We've got visitors."

I sat up, disoriented. The bed was too comfortable, and I hated sleeping in the middle of the day.

"Visitors?" I said.

Thalia nodded grimly. "A Titan wants to see you, under a flag of truce. He has a message from

Kronos."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A TITAN BRINGS ME A PRESENT

Click here to Go to Index

We could see the white flag from half a mile away. It was as big as a soccer field, carried by a thirty-foottall

giant with bright blue skin and icy gray hair.

"A Hyperborean," Thalia said. "The giants of the north. It's a bad sign that they sided with Kronos.

They're usually peaceful."

"You've met them?" I said.

"Mmm. There's a big colony in Alberta. You do not want to get into a snowball fight with those

guys."

As the giant got closer, I could see three human-size envoys with him: a half-blood in armor, an

empousa demon with a black dress and flaming hair, and a tall man in a tuxedo. The empousa held the tux

dude's arm, so they looked like a couple on their way to a Broadway show or something—

except for her flaming hair and fangs.

The group walked leisurely toward the Heckscher Playground. The swings and ball courts were

empty. The only sound was the fountain on Umpire Rock.

I looked at Grover. "The tux dude is the Titan?"

He nodded nervously. "He looks like a magician. I hate magicians. They usually have rabbits."

I stared at him. "You're scared of bunnies?"

"Blah-hah-hah! They're big bullies. Always stealing celery from defenseless satyrs!"

Thalia coughed.

"What?" Grover demanded.

"We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later," I said. "Here they come."

The man in the tux stepped forward. He was taller than an average human—about seven feet. His

black hair was tied in a ponytail. Dark round glasses covered his eyes, but what really caught my

attention was the skin on his face. It was covered in scratches, like he'd been attacked by a small animal—

a really, really mad hamster, maybe.

"Percy Jackson," he said in a silky voice. "It's a great honor."

His lady friend the empousa hissed at me. She'd probably heard how I'd destroyed two of her sisters

last summer.

"My dear," Tux Dude said to her. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable over there, eh?"

She released his arm and drifted over to a park bench.

I glanced at the armed demigod behind Tux Dude. 1 hadn't recognized him in his new helmet, but it

was my old backstabbing buddy Ethan Nakamura. His nose looked like a squashed tomato from our fight

on the Williamsburg Bridge. That made me feel better.

"Hey, Ethan," I said. "You're looking good."

Ethan glared at me.

"To business." Tux Dude extended his hand. "I am Prometheus."

I was too surprised to shake. "The fire-stealer guy? The chained-to-the-rock-with-the-vultures guy?"

Prometheus winced. He touched the scratches on his face. "Please, don't mention the vultures. But

yes, I stole fire from the gods and gave it to your ancestors. In return, the ever merciful Zeus had me

chained to a rock and tortured for all eternity."

"But—"

"How did I get free? Hercules did that, eons ago. So you see, I have a soft spot for heroes. Some of

you can be quite civilized."

"Unlike the company you keep," I noticed.

I was looking at Ethan, but Prometheus apparently thought I meant the empousa.

"Oh, demons aren't so bad," he said. "You just have to keep them well fed. Now, Percy Jackson, let

us parley."

He waved me toward a picnic table and we sat down. Thalia and Grover stood behind me.

The blue giant propped his white flag against a tree and began absently playing on the playground. He

stepped on the monkey bars and crushed them, but he didn't seem angry. He just frowned and said, "Uhoh."

Then he stepped in the fountain and broke the concrete bowl in half. "Uh-oh." The water froze where

his foot touched it. A bunch of stuffed animals hung from his belt—the huge kind you get for grand prizes

at an arcade. He reminded me of Tyson, and the idea of fighting him made me sad.

Prometheus sat forward and laced his fingers. He looked earnest, kindly, and wise. "Percy, your

position is weak. You know you can't stop another assault."

"We'll see."

Prometheus looked pained, like he really cared what happened to me. "Percy, I'm the Titan of

forethought. I know what's going to happen."

"Also the Titan of crafty counsel," Grover put in. "Emphasis on crafty."

Prometheus shrugged. "True enough, satyr. But I supported the gods in the last war. I told Kronos:

'You don't have the strength. You'll lose.' And I was right. So you see, I know how to pick the winning

side. This time, I'm backing Kronos."

"Because Zeus chained you to a rock," I guessed.

"Partly, yes. I won't deny I want revenge. But that's not the only reason I'm supporting Kronos. It's

the wisest choice. I'm here because I thought you might listen to reason."

He drew a map on the table with his finger. Wherever he touched, golden lines appeared, glowing on

the concrete. "This is Manhattan. We have armies here, here, here, and here. We know your numbers. We

outnumber you twenty to one."

"Your spy has been keeping you posted," I guessed.

Prometheus smiled apologetically. "At any rate, our forces are growing daily. Tonight, Kronos will

attack. You will be overwhelmed. You've fought bravely, but there's just no way you can hold all of

Manhattan. You'll be forced to retreat to the Empire State Building. There you'll be destroyed. I have seen

this. It will happen."

I thought about the picture Rachel had drawn in my dreams—an army at the base of the Empire State

Building. I remembered the words of the young girl Oracle in my dream: I foresee the future. I cannot

change it. Prometheus spoke with such certainty it was hard not to believe him.

"I won't let it happen," I said.

Prometheus brushed a speck off his tux lapel. "Understand, Percy. You are refighting the Trojan War

here. Patterns repeat themselves in history. They reappear just as monsters do. A great siege. Two armies.

The only difference is, this time you are defending. You are Troy. And you know what happened to the

Trojans, don't you?"

"So you're going to cram a wooden horse into the elevator at the Empire State Building?" I asked.

"Good luck."

Prometheus smiled. "Troy was completely destroyed, Percy. You don't want that to happen here.

Stand down, and New York will be spared. Your forces will be granted amnesty. I will personally assure

your safety. Let Kronos take Olympus. Who cares? Typhon will destroy the gods .my way."

"Right," I said. "And I'm supposed to believe Kronos would spare the city."

"All he wants is Olympus," Prometheus promised. "The might of the gods is tied to their seats of

power. You saw what happened to Poseidon once his undersea palace was attacked."

I winced, remembering how old and decrepit my father looked.

"Yes," Prometheus said sadly. "I know that was hard for you. When Kronos destroys Olympus, the

gods will fade. They will become so weak they will be easily defeated. Kronos would rather do this while

Typhon has the Olympians distracted in the west. Much easier. Fewer lives lost. But make no mistake, the

best you can do is slow us down. The day after tomorrow, Typhon arrives in New York, and you will

have no chance at all. The gods and Mount Olympus will still be destroyed, but it will be much messier.

Much, much worse for you and your city. Either way, the Titans will rule."

Thalia pounded her fist on the table. "I serve Artemis. The Hunters will fight to our last breath. Percy,

you're not seriously going to listen to this slimeball, are you?"

I figured Prometheus was going to blast her, but he just smiled. "Your courage does you credit, Thalia

Grace."

Thalia stiffened. "That's my mother's surname. I don't use it."

"As you wish," Prometheus said casually, but I could tell he'd gotten under her skin. I'd never even

heard Thalia's last name before. Somehow it made her seem almost normal. Less mysterious and

powerful.

"At any rate," the Titan said, "you need not be my enemy. I have always been a helper of mankind."

"That's a load of Minotaur dung," Thalia said. "When mankind first sacrificed to the gods, you

tricked them into giving you the best portion. You gave us fire to annoy the gods, not because you cared

about us."

Prometheus shook his head. "You don't understand. I helped shape your nature."

A wiggling lump of clay appeared in his hands. He fashioned it into a little doll with legs and arms.

The lump man didn't have any eyes, but it groped around the table, stumbling over Prometheus's fingers.

"I have been whispering in man's ear since the beginning of your existence. I represent your curiosity,

your sense of exploration, your inventiveness. Help me save you, Percy. Do this, and I will give mankind

a new gift—a new revelation that will move you as far forward as fire did. You can't make that kind of

advance under the gods. They would never allow it. But this could be a new golden age for you. Or . . ."

He made a fist and smashed the clay man into a pancake.

The blue giant rumbled, "Uh-oh." Over at the park bench, the empousa bared her fangs in a smile.

"Percy, you know the Titans and their offspring are not all bad," Prometheus said. "You've met

Calypso."

My face felt hot. "That's different."

"How? Much like me, she did nothing wrong, and yet she was exiled forever simply because she was

Atlas's daughter. We are not your enemies. Don't let the worst happen," he pleaded. "We offer you

peace."

I looked at Ethan Nakamura. "You must hate this."

"I don't know what you mean."

"If we took this deal, you wouldn't get revenge. You wouldn't get to kill us all. Isn't that what you

want?"

His good eye flared. "All I want is respect, Jackson. The gods never gave me that. You wanted me to

go to your stupid camp, spend my time crammed into the Hermes cabin because I'm not important? Not

even recognized?"

He sounded just like Luke when he'd tried to kill me in the woods at camp four years ago. The

memory made my hand ache where the pit scorpion had stung me.

"Your mom's the goddess of revenge," I told Ethan. "We should respect that?"

"Nemesis stands for balance! When people have too much good luck, she tears them down."

"Which is why she took your eye?"

"It was payment," he growled. "In exchange, she swore to me that one day I would tip the balance of

power. I would bring the minor gods respect. An eye was a small price to pay."

"Great mom."

"At least she keeps her word, unlike the Olympians. She always pays her debts—good or evil."

"Yeah," I said. "So I saved your life, and you repaid me by raising Kronos. That's fair."

Ethan grabbed the hilt of his sword, but Prometheus stopped him.

"Now, now," the Titan said. "We're on a diplomatic mission."

Prometheus studied me as if trying to understand my anger. Then he nodded like he'd just picked a

thought from my brain.

"It bothers you what happened to Luke," he decided. "Hestia didn't show you the full story. Perhaps if

you understood . . ."

The Titan reached out.

Thalia cried a warning, but before I could react, Prometheus's index finger touched my forehead.

* * *

Suddenly I was back in May Castellan's living room. Candles flickered on the fireplace mantel, reflected

in the mirrors along the walls. Through the kitchen doorway I could see Thalia sitting at the table while

Ms. Castellan bandaged her wounded leg. Seven-year-old Annabeth sat next to her, playing with a

Medusa beanbag toy.

Hermes and Luke stood apart in the living room.

The god's face looked liquid in the candlelight, like he couldn't decide what shape to adopt. He was

dressed in a navy blue jogging outfit with winged Reeboks.

"Why show yourself now?" Luke demanded. His shoulders were tense, as if he expected a fight. "All

these years I've been calling to you, praying you'd show up, and nothing. You left me with her." He

pointed toward the kitchen like he couldn't bear to look at his mother, much less say her name.

"Luke, do not dishonor her," Hermes warned. "Your mother did the best she could. As for me, I could

not interfere with your path. The children of the gods must find their own way."

"So it was for my own good. Growing up on the streets, fending for myself, fighting monsters."

"You're my son," Hermes said. "I knew you had the ability. When I was only a baby, I crawled from

my cradle and set out for—"

"I'm not a god! Just once, you could've said something. You could've helped when"—he took an

unsteady breath, lowering his voice so no one in the kitchen could overhear—"when she was having one

of her fits, shaking me and saying crazy things about my fate. When I used to hide in the closet so she

wouldn't find me with those . . . those glowing eyes. Did you even care that I was scared? Did you even

know when I finally ran away?"

In the kitchen, Ms. Castellan chattered aimlessly, pouring Kool-Aid for Thalia and Annabeth as she

told them stories about Luke as a baby. Thalia rubbed her bandaged leg nervously. Annabeth glanced into

the living room and held up a burned cookie for Luke to see. She mouthed, Can we go now?

"Luke, I care very much," Hermes said slowly, "but gods must not interfere directly in mortal affairs.

It is one of our Ancient Laws. Especially when your destiny . . ." His voice trailed off. He stared at the

candles as if remembering something unpleasant.

"What?" Luke asked. "What about my destiny?"

"You should not have come back," Hermes muttered. "It only upsets you both. However, I see now

that you are getting too old to be on the run without help. I'll speak with Chiron at Camp Half-Blood and

ask him to send a satyr to collect you."

"We're doing fine without your help," Luke growled. "Now, what were you saying about my

destiny?"

The wings on Hermes's Reeboks fluttered restlessly. He studied his son like he was trying to

memorize his face, and suddenly a cold feeling washed through me. I realized Hermes knew what May

Castellan's mutterings meant. I wasn't sure how, but looking at his face I was absolutely certain. Hermes

understood what would happen to Luke someday, how he would turn evil.

"My son," he said, "I'm the god of travelers, the god of loads. If I know anything, I know that you

must walk your own path, even though it tears my heart."

"You don't love me."

"I promise I . . . I do love you. Go to camp. I will see that you get a quest soon. Perhaps you can

defeat the Hydra, or steal the apples of Hesperides. You will get a chance to be a great hero before . . ."

"Before what?" Luke's voice was trembling now. "What did my mom see that made her like this?

What's going to happen to me? If you love me, tell me."

Hermes's expression tightened. "I cannot."

"Then you don't care!" Luke yelled.

In the kitchen, the talking died abruptly.

"Luke?" May Castellan called. "Is that you? Is my boy all right?"

Luke turned to hide his face, but I could see the tears in his eyes. "I'm fine. I have a new family. I

don't need either of you."

"I'm your father," Hermes insisted.

"A father is supposed to be around. I've never even met you. Thalia, Annabeth, come on! We're

leaving!"

"My boy, don't go!" May Castellan called after him. "I have your lunch ready!"

Luke stormed out the door, Thalia and Annabeth scrambling after him. May Castellan tried to follow,

but Hermes held her back.

As the screen door slammed, May collapsed in Hermes's arms and began to shake. Her eyes

opened—glowing green—and she clutched desperately at Hermes's shoulders.

"My son," she hissed in a dry voice. "Danger. Terrible fate!"

"I know, my love," Hermes said sadly. "Believe me, I know."

The image faded. Prometheus pulled his hand away from my forehead.

"Percy?" Thalia asked. "What . . . what was that?"

I realized I was clammy with sweat.

Prometheus nodded sympathetically. "Appalling, isn't it? The gods know what is to come, and yet

they do nothing, even for their children. How long did it take for them to tell you your prophecy, Percy

Jackson? Don't you think your father knows what will happen to you?"

I was too stunned to answer.

"Perrrcy," Grover warned, "he's playing with your mind. Trying to make you angry."

Grover could read emotions, so he probably knew Prometheus was succeeding.

"Do you really blame your friend Luke?" the Titan asked me. "And what about you, Percy? Will you

be controlled by your fate? Kronos offers you a much better deal."

I clenched my fists. As much as I hated what Prometheus had shown me, I hated Kronos a lot more.

"I'll give you a deal. Tell Kronos to call off his attack, leave Luke Castellan's body, and return to the pits

of Tartarus. Then maybe I won't have to destroy him,"

The empousa snarled. Her hair erupted in fresh flames, but Prometheus just sighed.

"If you change your mind," he said, "I have a gift for you."

A Greek vase appeared on the table. It was about three feet high and a foot wide, glazed with blackand-

white geometric designs. The ceramic lid was fastened with a leather harness.

Grover whimpered when he saw it.

Thalia gasped. "That's not—"

"Yes," Prometheus said. "You recognize it."

Looking at the jar, I felt a strange sense of fear, but I had no idea why.

"This belonged to my sister-in-law," Prometheus explained. "Pandora."

A lump formed in my throat. "As in Pandora's box?"

Prometheus shook his head. "I don't know how this box business got started. It was never a box. It

was a pithos, a storage jar. I suppose Pandora's pithos doesn't have the same ring to it, but never mind

that. Yes, she did open this jar, which contained most of the demons that now haunt mankind—fear,

death, hunger, sickness."

"Don't forget me," the empousa purred.

"Indeed," Prometheus conceded. "The first empousa was also trapped in this jar, released by Pandora.

But what I find curious about the story—Pandora always gets the blame. She is punished for being

curious. The gods would have you believe that this is the lesson: mankind should not explore. They

should not ask questions. They should do what they are told. In truth, Percy, this jar was a trap designed

by Zeus and the other gods. It was revenge on me and my entire family—my poor simple brother

Epimetheus and his wife Pandora. The gods knew she would open the jar. They were willing to punish

the entire race of humanity along with us."

I thought about my dream of Hades and Maria di Angelo. Zeus had destroyed an entire hotel to

eliminate two demigod children—just to save his own skin, because he was scared of a prophecy. He'd

killed an innocent woman and probably hadn't lost any sleep over it. Hades was no better. He wasn't

powerful enough to take his revenge on Zeus, so he cursed the Oracle, dooming a young girl to a horrible

fate. And Hermes . . . why had he abandoned Luke? Why hadn't he at least warned Luke, or tried to raise

him better so he wouldn't turn evil?

Maybe Prometheus was toying with my mind.

But what if he's right? part of me wondered. How are the gods any better than the Titans?

Prometheus tapped the lid of Pandora's jar. "Only one spirit remained inside when Pandora opened

it."

"Hope," I said.

Prometheus looked pleased. "Very good, Percy. Elpis, the Spirit of Hope, would not abandon

humanity. Hope does not leave without being given permission. She can only be released by a child of

man."

The Titan slid the jar across the table.

"I give you this as a reminder of what the gods are like," he said. "Keep Elpis, if you wish. But if you

decide that you have seen enough destruction, enough futile suffering, then open the jar. Let Elpis go.

Give up Hope, and I will know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient. He will spare

the survivors."

I stared at the jar and got a very bad feeling. I figured Pandora had been completely ADHD, like me. I

could never leave things alone. I didn't like temptation. What if this was my choice? Maybe the prophecy

all came down to my keeping this jar closed or opening it.

"I don't want the thing," I growled.

"Too late," Prometheus said. "The gift is given. It cannot be taken back."

He stood. The empousa came forward and slipped her arm through his.

"Morrain!" Prometheus called to the blue giant. "We are leaving. Get your flag."

"Uh-oh," the giant said.

"We will see you soon, Percy Jackson," Prometheus promised. "One way or another."

Ethan Nakamura gave me one last hateful look. Then the truce party turned and strolled up the lane

through Central Park, like it was just a regular sunny Sunday afternoon.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: PIGS FLY

Click here to Go to Index

Back at the Plaza, Thalia pulled me aside. "What did Prometheus show you?"

Reluctantly, I told her about the vision of May Castellan's house. Thalia rubbed her thigh like she was

remembering the old wound.

"That was a bad night," she admitted. "Annabeth was so little, I don't think she really understood

what she saw. She just knew Luke was upset."

I looked out the hotel windows at Central Park. Small fires were still burning in the north, but

otherwise the city seemed unnaturally peaceful. "Do you know what happened to May Castellan? I

mean—"

"I know what you mean," Thalia said. "I never saw her have an, um, episode, but Luke told me about

the glowing eyes, the strange things she would say. He made me promise never to tell. What caused it, I

have no idea. If Luke knew, he never told me."

"Hermes knew," I said. "Something caused May to see parts of Luke's future, and Hermes understood

what would happen—how Luke would turn into Kronos."

Thalia frowned. "You can't be sure of that. Remember Prometheus was manipulating what you saw,

Percy, showing you what happened in the worst possible light. Hermes did love Luke. I could tell just by

looking at his face. And Hermes was there that night because he was checking up on May, taking care of

her. He wasn't all bad."

"It's still not right," I insisted. "Luke was just a little kid. Hermes never helped him, never stopped

him from running away."

Thalia shouldered her bow. Again it struck me how much stronger she looked now that she'd stopped

aging. You could almost see a silvery glow around her—the blessing of Artemis.

"Percy," she said, "you can't start feeling sorry for Luke. We all have tough things to deal with. All

demigods do. Our parents are hardly ever around. But Luke made bad choices. Nobody forced him to do

that. In fact—"

She glanced down the hall to make sure we were alone. "I'm worried about Annabeth. If she has to

face Luke in battle, I don't know if she can do it. She's always had a soft spot for him."

Blood rose to my face. "She'll do fine."

"I don't know. After that night, after we left his mom's house? Luke was never the same. He got

reckless and moody, like he had something to prove. By the time Grover found us and tried to get us to

camp . . . well, part of the reason we had so much trouble was because Luke wouldn't be careful. He

wanted to pick a fight with every monster we crossed. Annabeth didn't see that as a problem. Luke was

her hero. She only understood that his parents had made him sad, and she got very defensive of him. She

still is defensive. All I'm saying . . . don't you fall into the same trap. Luke has given himself to Kronos

now. We can't afford to be soft on him."

I looked out at the fires in Harlem, wondering how many sleeping mortals were in danger right now

because of Luke's bad choices.

"You're right," I said.

Thalia patted my shoulder. "I'm going to check on the Hunters, then get some more sleep before

nightfall. You should crash too."

"The last thing I need is more dreams."

"I know, believe me." Her dark expression made me wonder what she'd been dreaming about. It was

a common demigod problem: the more dangerous our situation became, the worse and more frequent our

dreams got. "But Percy, there's no telling when you'll get another chance for rest. It's going to be a long

night—maybe our last night."

I didn't like it, but I knew she was right. I nodded wearily and gave her Pandora's jar. "Do me a favor.

Lock this in the hotel vault, will you? I think I'm allergic to pithos."

Thalia smiled. "You got it."

I found the nearest bed and passed out. But of course sleep only brought more nightmares.

I saw the undersea palace of my father. The enemy army was closer now, entrenched only a few

hundred yards outside the palace. The fortress walls were completely destroyed. The temple my dad had

used as his headquarters was burning with Greek fire.

I zoomed in on the armory, where my brother and some other Cyclopes were on lunch break, eating

from huge jars of Skippy extra-chunky peanut butter (and don't ask me how it tasted underwater, because

I don't want to know). As I watched, the outer wall of the armory exploded. A Cyclops warrior stumbled

inside, collapsing on the lunch table. Tyson knelt down to help, but it was too late. The Cyclops dissolved

into sea silt.

Enemy giants moved toward the breach, and Tyson picked up the fallen warrior's club. He yelled

something to his fellow blacksmiths—probably "For Poseidon!"—but with his mouth full of peanut butter

it sounded like "PUH PTEH BUN!" His brethren all grabbed hammers and chisels, yelled, "PEANUT

BUTTER!" and charged behind Tyson into battle.

Then the scene shifted. I was with Ethan Nakamura at the enemy camp. What I saw made me shiver,

partly because the army was so huge, partly because I recognized the place.

We were in the backwoods of New Jersey, on a crumbling road lined with run-down businesses and

tattered billboard signs. A trampled fence ringed a big yard full of cement statuary. The sign above the

warehouse was hard to read because it was in red cursive, but I knew what it said: AUNTY EM'S

GARDEN GNOME EMPORIUM.

I hadn't thought about the place in years. It was clearly abandoned. The statues were broken and

spray-painted with graffiti. A cement satyr—Grover's Uncle Ferdinand—had lost his arm. Part of the

warehouse roof had caved in. A big yellow sign pasted on the door read: CONDEMNED.

Hundreds of tents and fires surrounded the property. Mostly I saw monsters, but there were some

human mercenaries in combat fatigues and demigods in armor, too. A purple-and-black banner hung

outside the emporium, guarded by two huge blue Hyperboreans.

Ethan was crouched at the nearest campfire. A couple of other demigods sat with him, sharpening

their swords. The doors of the warehouse opened, and Prometheus stepped out.

"Nakamura," he called. "The master would like to speak to you."

Ethan stood up warily. "Something wrong?"

Prometheus smiled. "You'll have to ask him."

One of the other demigods snickered. "Nice knowing you."

Ethan readjusted his sword belt and headed into the warehouse.

Except for the hole in the roof, the place was just as 1 remembered. Statues of terrified people stood

frozen in midscream. In the snack bar area, the picnic tables had been moved aside. Right between the

soda dispenser and pretzel warmer stood a golden throne. Kronos lounged on it, his scythe across his lap.

He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and with his brooding expression he looked almost human—like the younger

version of Luke I'd seen in the vision, pleading with Hermes to tell him his fate. Then Luke saw Ethan,

and his face contorted into a very inhuman smile. His golden eyes glowed.

"Well, Nakamura. What did you think of the diplomatic mission?"

Ethan hesitated. "I'm sure Lord Prometheus is better suited to speak—"

"But I asked you."

Ethan's good eye darted back and forth, noting the guards that stood around Kronos. "I . . . I don't

think Jackson will surrender. Ever."

Kronos nodded. "Anything else you wanted to tell me?"

"N-no, sir.

"You look nervous, Ethan."

"No, sir. It's just . . . I heard this was the lair of —"

"Medusa? Yes, quite true. Lovely place, eh? Unfortunately, Medusa hasn't re-formed since Jackson

killed her, so you needn't worry about joining her collection. Besides, there are much more dangerous

forces in this room."

Kronos looked over at a Laistrygonian giant who was munching noisily on some french fries. Kronos

waved his hand and the giant froze. A french fry hung suspended in midair halfway between his hand and

his mouth.

"Why turn them to stone," Kronos asked, "when you can freeze time itself?"

His golden eyes bored into Ethan's face. "Now, tell me one more thing. What happened last night on

the Williamsburg Bridge?"

Ethan trembled. Beads of perspiration were popping up on his forehead. "I . . . I don't know, sir."

"Yes, you do." Kronos rose from his seat. "When you attacked Jackson, something happened.

Something was not quite right. The girl, Annabeth, jumped in your way."

"She wanted to save him."

"But he is invulnerable," Kronos said quietly. "You saw that yourself."

"I can't explain it. Maybe she forgot."

"She forgot," Kronos said. "Yes, that must've been it. Oh dear, I forgot my friend is invulnerable and

took a knife for him. Oops. Tell me, Ethan, where were you aiming when you stabbed at Jackson?"

Ethan frowned. He clasped his hand as if he were holding a blade, and mimed a thrust. "I'm not sure,

sir. It all happened so fast. I wasn't aiming for any spot in particular.'

Kronos's fingers tapped the blade of his scythe. "I see," he said in a chilly tone. "If your memory

improves, I will expect—"

Suddenly the Titan lord winced. The giant in the corner unfroze and the french fry fell into his mouth.

Kronos stumbled backward and sank into his throne.

"My lord?" Ethan started forward.

"I—" The voice was weak, but just for a moment it was Luke's. Then Kronos's expression hardened.

He raised his hand and flexed his fingers slowly as if forcing them to obey.

"It is nothing," he said, his voice steely and cold again. "A minor discomfort."

Ethan moistened his lips. "He's still fighting you, isn't he? Luke—"

"Nonsense," Kronos spat. "Repeat that lie, and I will cut out your tongue. The boy's soul has been

crushed. I am simply adjusting to the limits of this form. It requires rest. It is annoying, but no more than

a temporary inconvenience."

"As . . . as you say, my lord."

"You!" Kronos pointed his scythe at a dracaena with green armor and a green crown. "Queen Sess, is

it?"

"Yesssss, my lord."

"Is our little surprise ready to be unleashed?"

The dracaena queen bared her fangs. "Oh, yessss, my lord. Quite a lovely sssssurprissse."

"Excellent," Kronos said. "Tell my brother Hyperion to move our main force south into Central Park.

The half-bloods will be in such disarray they will not be able to defend themselves. Go now, Ethan. Work

on improving your memory. We will talk again when we have taken Manhattan."

Ethan bowed, and my dreams shifted one last time. I saw the Big House at camp, but it was a different

era. The house was painted red instead of blue. The campers down at the volleyball pit had early '90s

hairstyles, which were probably good for keeping monsters away.

Chiron stood by the porch, talking to Hermes and a woman holding a baby. Chiron's hair was shorter

and darker. Hermes wore his usual jogging suit with his winged high-tops. The woman was tall and

pretty. She had blond hair, shining eyes and a friendly smile. The baby in her arms squirmed in his blue

blanket like Camp Half-Blood was the last place he wanted to be.

"It's an honor to have you here," Chiron told the woman, though he sounded nervous. "It's been a long

time since a mortal was allowed at camp."

"Don't encourage her," Hermes grumbled. "May, you can't do this."

With a shock, I realized I was seeing May Castellan. She looked nothing like the old woman I'd met.

She seemed full of life—the kind of person who could smile and make everyone around her feel good.

"Oh, don't worry so much," May said, rocking the baby. "You need an Oracle, don't you? The old

one's been dead for, what, twenty years?"

"Longer," Chiron said gravely.

Hermes raised his arms in exasperation. "I didn't tell you that story so you could apply. It's dangerous.

Chiron, tell her."

"It is," Chiron warned. "For many years, I have forbidden anyone from trying. We don't know exactly

what's happened. Humanity seems to have lost the ability to host the Oracle."

"We've been through that," May said. "And I know I can do it. Hermes, this is my chance to do

something good. I've been given the gift of sight for a reason."

I wanted to yell at May Castellan to stop. I knew what was about to happen. I finally understood how

her life had been destroyed. But I couldn't move or speak.

Hermes looked more hurt than worried. "You couldn't marry if you became the Oracle," he

complained. "You couldn't see me anymore."

May put her hand on his arm. "I can't have you forever, can I? You'll move on soon. You're

immortal."

He started to protest, but she put her hand on his chest. "You know it's true! Don't try to spare my

feelings. Besides, we have a wonderful child. I can still raise Luke if I'm the Oracle, right?"

Chiron coughed. "Yes, but in all fairness, I don't know how that will affect the spirit of the Oracle. A

woman who has already borne a child—as far as I know, this has never been done before. If the spirit

does not take—"

"It will," May insisted.

No, I wanted to shout. It won't.

May Castellan kissed her baby and handed the bundle to Hermes. "I'll be right back."

She gave them one last confident smile and climbed the steps.

Chiron and Hermes paced in silence. The baby squirmed.

A green glow lit the windows of the house. The campers stopped playing volleyball and stared up at

the attic. A cold wind rushed through the strawberry fields.

Hermes must've felt it too. He cried, "No! NO!"

He shoved the baby into Chiron's arms and ran for the porch. Before he reached the door, the sunny

afternoon was shattered by May Castellan's terrified scream.

I got up so fast I banged my head on somebody's shield.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Percy." Annabeth was standing over me. "I was just about to wake you."

I rubbed my head, trying to clear the disturbing visions. Suddenly a lot of things made sense to me:

May Castellan had tried to become the Oracle. She hadn't known about Hades's curse preventing the spirit

of Delphi from taking another host. Neither had Chiron or Hermes. They hadn't realized that by trying to

take the job, May would be driven mad, plagued with fits in which her eyes would glow green and she

would have shattered glimpses of her child's future.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied. "What . . . what are you doing in armor? You should be resting."

"Oh, I'm fine," she said, though she still looked pale. She was barely moving her right arm. "That

nectar and ambrosia fixed me up."

"Uh-huh. You can't seriously go out and fight."

She offered me her good hand and helped me up. My head was pounding. Outside, the sky was purple

and red.

"You're going to need every person you have," she said. "I just looked in my shield. There's an

army—"

"Heading south into Central Park," I said. "Yeah, I know."

I told her part of my dreams. I left out the vision of May Castellan, because it was too disturbing to

talk about. I also left out Ethan's speculation about Luke fighting Kronos inside his body. I didn't want to

get Annabeth's hopes up.

"Do you think Ethan suspects about your weak spot?" she asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "He didn't tell Kronos anything, but if he figures it out—"

"We can't let him."

"I'll bonk him on the head harder next time," I suggested. "Any idea what surprise Kronos was talking

about?"

She shook her head. "I didn't see anything in the shield, but I don't like surprises."

"Agreed."

"So," she said, "are you going to argue about me coming along?"

"Nah. You'd just beat me up."

She managed a laugh, which was good to hear. I grabbed my sword, and we went to rally the troops.

Thalia and the head counselors were waiting for us at the Reservoir. The lights of the city were blinking

on at twilight. I guess a lot of them were on automatic timers. Streetlamps glowed around the shore of the

lake, making the water and trees look even spookier.

"They're coming," Thalia confirmed, pointing north with a silver arrow. "One of my scouts just

reported they've crossed the Harlem River. There was no way to hold them back. The army . . ." She

shrugged. "It's huge."

"We'll hold them at the park," I said. "Grover, you ready?"

He nodded. "As ready as we'll ever be. If my nature spirits can stop them anywhere, this is the place."

"Yes, we will!" said another voice. A very old, fat satyr pushed through the crowd, stumbling over his

own spear. He was dressed in wood-bark armor that only covered half of his belly.

"Leneus?" I said.

"Don't act so surprised," he huffed. "I am a leader of the Council, and you did tell me to find Grover.

Well, I found him, and I'm not going to let a mere outcast lead the satyrs without my help!"

Behind Leneus's back, Grover made gagging motions, but the old satyr grinned like he was the savior

of the day. "Never fear! We'll show those Titans!"

I didn't know whether to laugh or be angry, but I managed to keep a straight face. "Um . . . yeah.

Well, Grover, you won't be alone. Annabeth and the Athena cabin will make their stand here. And me,

and . . . Thalia?"

She patted me on the shoulder. "Say no more. The Hunters are ready."

I looked at the other counselors. "That leaves the rest of you with a job just as important. You have to

guard the other entrances to Manhattan. You know how tricky Kronos is. He'll hope to distract us with

this big army and sneak another force in somewhere else. It's up to you to make sure that doesn't happen.

Has each cabin chosen a bridge or tunnel?"

The counselors nodded grimly.

"Then let's do it," I said. "Good hunting, everybody!"

We heard the army before we saw it.

The noise was like a cannon barrage combined with a football stadium crowd—like every Patriots fan

in New England was charging us with bazookas.

At the north end of the reservoir, the enemy vanguard broke through the woods—a warrior in golden

armor leading a battalion of Laistrygonian giants with huge bronze axes. Hundreds of other monsters

poured out behind them.

"Positions!" Annabeth yelled.

Her cabinmates scrambled. The idea was to make the enemy army break around the reservoir. To get

to us, they'd have to follow the trails, which meant they'd be marching in narrow columns on either side

of the water.

At first, the plan seemed to work. The enemy divided and streamed toward us along the shore. When

they were halfway across, our defenses kicked in. The jogging trail erupted in Greek fire, incinerating

many of the monsters instantly. Others flailed around, engulfed in green flames. Athena campers threw

grappling hooks around the largest giants and pulled them to the ground.

In the woods on the right, the Hunters sent a volley of silver arrows into the enemy line, destroying

twenty or thirty dracaenae, but more marched behind them. A bolt of lightning crackled out of the sky

and fried a Laistrygonian giant to ashes, and I knew Thalia must be doing her daughter of Zeus thing.

Grover raised his pipes and played a quick tune. A roar went up from the woods on both sides as

every tree, rock, and bush seemed to sprout a spirit. Dryads and satyrs raised their clubs and charged. The

trees wrapped around the monsters, strangling them. Grass grew around the feet of the enemy archers.

Stones flew up and hit dracaenae in the faces.

The enemy slogged forward. Giants smashed through the trees, and naiads faded as their life sources

were destroyed. Hellhounds lunged at the timber wolves, knocking them aside. Enemy archers returned

fire, and a Hunter fell from a high branch.

"Percy!" Annabeth grabbed my arm and pointed at the reservoir. The Titan in the gold armor wasn't

waiting for his forces to advance around the sides. He was charging toward us, walking straight over the

top of the lake.

A Greek firebomb exploded right on top of him, but he raised his palm and sucked the flames out of

the air.

"Hyperion," Annabeth said in awe. "The lord of light. Titan of the east."

"Bad?" I guessed.

"Next to Atlas, he's the greatest Titan warrior. In the old days, four Titans controlled the four corners

of the world. Hyperion was the east—the most powerful. He was the father of Helios, the first sun god."

"I'll keep him busy," I promised.

"Percy, even you can't—"

"Just keep our forces together."

We'd set up at the reservoir for good reason. I concentrated on the water and felt its power surging

through me.

I advanced toward Hyperion, running over the top of the water. Yeah, buddy. Two can play that game.

Twenty feet away, Hyperion raised his sword. His eyes were just like I'd seen in my dream—as gold

as Kronos's but brighter, like miniature suns.

"The sea god's brat," he mused. "You're the one who trapped Atlas beneath the sky again?"

"It wasn't hard," I said. "You Titans are about as bright as my gym socks."

Hyperion snarled. "You want bright?"

His body ignited in a column of light and heat. I looked away, but I was still blinded.

Instinctively I raised Riptide—just in time. Hyperion's blade slammed against mine. The shock wave

sent a ten-foot ring of water across the surface of the lake.

My eyes still burned. I had to shut off his light.

I concentrated on the tidal wave and forced it to reverse. Just before impact, I jumped upward on a jet

of water.

"AHHHHH!" The waves smashed into Hyperion and he went under, his light extinguished.

I landed on the lake's surface just as Hyperion struggled to his feet. His golden armor was dripping

wet. His eyes no longer blazed, but they still looked murderous.

"You will burn, Jackson!" he roared.

Our swords met again and the air charged with ozone.

The battle still raged around us. On the right flank, Annabeth was leading an assault with her siblings.

On the left flank, Grover and his nature spirits were regrouping, entangling the enemies with bushes and

weeds.

"Enough games," Hyperion told me. "We fight on land."

I was about to make some clever comment, like "No," when the Titan yelled. A wall of force

slammed me through the air—just like the trick Kronos had pulled on the bridge. I sailed backward about

three hundred yards and smashed into the ground. If it hadn't been for my new invulnerability, I would've

broken every bone in my body.

I got to my feet, groaning. "I really hate it when you Titans do that."

Hyperion closed on me with blinding speed.

I concentrated on the water, drawing strength from it.

Hyperion attacked. He was powerful and fast, but he couldn't seem to land a blow. The ground around

his feet kept erupting in flames, but I kept dousing it just as quickly.

"Stop it!" the Titan roared. "Stop that wind!"

I wasn't sure what he meant. I was too busy fighting.

Hyperion stumbled like he was being pushed away. Water sprayed his face, stinging his eyes. The

wind picked up, and Hyperion staggered backward.

"Percy!" Grover called in amazement. "How are you doing that?"

Doing what? I thought.

Then I looked down, and I realized I was standing in the middle of my own personal hurricane.

Clouds of water vapor swirled around me, winds so powerful they buffeted Hyperion and flattened the

grass in a twenty-yard radius. Enemy warriors threw javelins at me, but the storm knocked them aside.

"Sweet," I muttered. "But a little more!"

Lightning flickered around me. The clouds darkened and the rain swirled faster. I closed in on

Hyperion and blew him off his feet.

"Percy!" Grover called again. "Bring him over here!"

I slashed and jabbed, letting my reflexes take over, Hyperion could barely defend himself. His eyes

kept trying to ignite, but the hurricane quenched his flames.

I couldn't keep up a storm like this forever, though. I could feel my powers weakening. With one last

effort, I propelled Hyperion across the field, straight to where Grover was waiting.

"I will not be toyed with!" Hyperion bellowed.

He managed to get to his feet again, but Grover put his reed pipes to his lips and began to play.

Leneus joined him. Around the grove, every satyr took up the song—an eerie melody, like a creek

flowing over stones. The ground erupted at Hyperion's feet. Gnarled roots wrapped around his legs.

"What's this?" he protested. He tried to shake off the roots, but he was still weak. The roots thickened

until he looked like he was wearing wooden boots.

"Stop this!" he shouted. "Your woodland magic is no match for a Titan!"

But the more he struggled, the faster the roots grew. They curled about his body, thickening and

hardening into bark. His golden armor melted into the wood, becoming part of a large trunk.

The music continued. Hyperion's forces backed up in astonishment as their leader was absorbed. He

stretched out his arms and they became branches, from which smaller branches shot out and grew leaves.

The tree grew taller and thicker, until only the Titan's face was visible in the middle of the trunk.

"You cannot imprison me!" he bellowed. "I am Hyperion! I am—"

The bark closed over his face.

Grover took his pipes from his mouth. "You are a very nice maple tree."

Several of the other satyrs passed out from exhaustion, but they'd done their job well. The Titan lord

was completely encased in an enormous maple. The trunk was at least twenty feet in diameter, with

branches as tall as any in the park. The tree might've stood there for centuries.

The Titan's army started to retreat. A cheer went up from the Athena cabin, but our victory was shortlived.

Because just then Kronos unleashed his surprise.

"REEEEET!"

The squeal echoed through upper Manhattan. Demigods and monsters alike froze in terror.

Grover shot me a panicked look. "Why does that sound like . . . It can't be!"

I knew what he was thinking. Two years ago we'd gotten a "gift" from Pan—a huge boar that carried

us across the Southwest (after it tried to kill us). The boar had a similar squeal, but what we were hearing

now seemed higher pitched, shriller, almost like . . . like if the boar had an angry girlfriend.

"REEEEEET!" A huge pink creature soared over the reservoir—a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade

nightmare blimp with wings.

"A sow!" Annabeth cried. "Take cover!"

The demigods scattered as the winged lady pig swooped down. Her wings were pink like a

flamingo's, which matched her skin beautifully, but it was hard to think of her as cute when her hooves

slammed into the ground, barely missing one of Annabeth's siblings. The pig stomped around and tore

down half an acre of trees, belching a cloud of noxious gas. Then it took off again, circling around for

another strike.

"Don't tell me that thing is from Greek mythology," I complained.

"Afraid so," Annabeth said. "The Clazmonian Sow. It terrorized Greek towns back in the day."

"Let me guess," I said. "Hercules beat it."

"Nope," Annabeth said. "As far as I know, no hero has ever beaten it."

"Perfect," I muttered.

The Titan's army was recovering from its shock. I guess they realized the pig wasn't after them.

We only had seconds before they were ready to fight, and our forces were still in a panic. Every time

the sow belched, Grover's nature spirits yelped and faded back into their trees.

"That pig has to go." I grabbed a grappling hook from one of Annabeth's siblings. "I'll take care of it.

You guys hold the rest of the enemy. Push them back!"

"But, Percy," Grover said, "what if we can't?"

I saw how tired he was. The magic had really drained him. Annabeth didn't look much better from

fighting with a bad shoulder wound. I didn't know how the Hunters were doing, but the right flank of the

enemy army was now between them and us.

I didn't want to leave my friends in such bad shape, but that sow was the biggest threat. It would

destroy everything: buildings, trees, sleeping mortals. It had to be stopped.

"Retreat if you need to," I said. "Just slow them down. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Before I could change my mind, I swung the grappling hook like a lasso. When the sow came down

for its next pass, I threw with all my strength. The hook wrapped around the base of the pig's wing. It

squealed in rage and veered off, yanking the rope and me into the sky.

If you're heading downtown from Central Park, my advice is to take the subway. Flying pigs are faster,

but way more dangerous.

The sow soared past the Plaza Hotel, straight into the canyon of Fifth Avenue. My brilliant plan was

to climb the rope and get on the pig's back. Unfortunately I was too busy swinging around dodging

streetlamps and the sides of buildings.

Another thing I learned: it's one thing to climb a rope in gym class. It's a completely different thing to

climb a rope attached to a moving pig's wing while you're flying at a hundred miles an hour.

We zigzagged along several blocks and continued south on Park Avenue.

Boss! Hey, boss! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blackjack speeding along next to us, darting back

and forth to avoid the pig's wings.

"Watch out!" I told him.

Hop on! Blackjack whinnied. I can catch you . . . probably.

That wasn't very reassuring. Grand Central lay dead ahead. Above the main entrance stood the giant

statue of Hermes, which I guess hadn't been activated because it was so high up. I was flying right toward

him at the speed of demigod-smashing.

"Stay alert!" I told Blackjack. "I've got an idea."

Oh, I hate your ideas.

I swung outward with all my might. Instead of smashing into the Hermes statue, I whipped around it,

circling the rope under its arms. I thought this would tether the pig, but I'd underestimated the momentum

of a thirty-ton sow in flight. Just as the pig wrenched the statue loose from its pedestal, I let go. Hermes

went for a ride, taking my place as the pig's passenger, and I free-fell toward the street.

In that split second I thought about the days when my mom used to work at the Grand Central candy

shop. I thought how bad it would be if I ended up as a grease spot on the pavement.

Then a shadow swooped under me, and thump—I was on Blackjack's back. It wasn't the most

comfortable landing. In fact, when I yelled "OW!" my voice was an octave higher than usual.

Sorry, boss, Blackjack murmured.

"No problem," I squeaked. "Follow that pig!"

The porker had taken a right at East 42nd and was flying back toward Fifth Avenue. When it flew

above the rooftops, I could see fires here and there around the city. It looked like my friends were having

a rough time. Kronos was attacking on several fronts. But at the moment, I had my own problems.

The Hermes statue was still on its leash. It kept bonking into buildings and spinning around. The pig

swooped over an office building, and Hermes plowed into a water tower on the roof, blasting water and

wood everywhere.

Then something occurred to me.

"Get closer," I told Blackjack.

He whinnied in protest.

"Just within shouting distance," I said. "I need to talk to the statue."

Now I'm sure you've lost it, boss, Blackjack said, but he did what I asked. When I was close enough to

see the statue's face clearly, I yelled, "Hello, Hermes! Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Kill

Flying Pigs! Begin Activation!"

Immediately the statue moved its legs. It seemed confused to find that it was no longer on top of

Grand Central Terminal. It was, instead, being given a sky-ride on the end of a rope by a large winged

sow. It smashed through the side of a brick building, which I think made it a little mad. It shook its head

and began to climb the rope.

I glanced down at the street. We were coming up on the main public library, with the big marble lions

flanking the steps. Suddenly I had a weird thought: Could stone statues be automatons too? It seemed like

a long shot, but . . .

"Faster!" I told Blackjack. "Get in front of the pig, Taunt him!"

Um, boss—

"Trust me," I said. "I can do this . . . probably."

Oh, sure. Mock the horse.

Blackjack burst through the air. He could fly pretty darned fast when he wanted to. He got in front of

the pig, which now had a metal Hermes on its back.

Blackjack whinnied, You smell like ham! He kicked the pig in the snout with his back hooves and

went into a steep dive. The pig screamed in rage and followed.

We barreled straight for the front steps of the library. Blackjack slowed down just enough for me to

hop off, then he kept flying toward the main doors.

I yelled out, "Lions! Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Kill Flying Pigs! Begin

Activation!"

The lions stood up and looked at me. They probably thought I was teasing them. But just then:

"REEEEEET!"

The massive pink pork monster landed with a thud, cracking the sidewalk. The lions stared at it, not

believing their luck, and pounced. At the same time, a very beat-up Hermes statue leaped onto the pig's

head and started banging it mercilessly with a caduceus. Those lions had some nasty claws.

I drew Riptide, but there wasn't much for me to do. The pig disintegrated before my eyes. I almost felt

sorry for it. I hoped it got to meet the boar of its dreams down in Tartarus.

When the monster had completely turned to dust, the lions and the Hermes statue looked around in

confusion.

"You can defend Manhattan now," I told them, but they didn't seem to hear. They went charging

down Park Avenue, and I imagined they would keep looking for flying pigs until someone deactivated

them.

Hey, boss, said Blackjack. Can we take a donut break?

I wiped the sweat off my brow. "I wish, big guy, but the fight's still going on."

In fact, I could hear it getting closer. My friends needed help. I jumped on Blackjack, and we flew

north toward the sound of explosions.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:  CHIRON THROWS A PARTY

Click here to Go to Index

Midtown was a war zone. We flew over little skirmishes everywhere. A giant was ripping up trees in

Bryant Park while dryads pelted him with nuts. Outside the Waldorf Astoria, a bronze statue of Benjamin

Franklin was whacking a hellhound with a rolled-up newspaper. A trio of Hephaestus campers fought a

squad of dracaenae in the middle of Rockefeller Center.

I was tempted to stop and help, but I could tell from the smoke and noise that the real action had

moved farther south. Our defenses were collapsing. The enemy was closing in on the Empire State

Building.

We did a quick sweep of the surrounding area. The Hunters had set up a defensive line on 37th, just

three blocks north of Olympus. To the east on Park Avenue, Jake Mason and some other Hephaestus

campers were leading an army of statues against the enemy. To the west, the Demeter cabin and Grover's

nature spirits had turned Sixth Avenue into a jungle that was hampering a squadron of Kronos's

demigods. The south was clear for now, but the flanks of the enemy army were swinging around. A few

more minutes and we'd be totally surrounded.

"We have to land where they need us most," I muttered.

That's everywhere, boss.

I spotted a familiar silver owl banner in the southeast corner of the fight, 33rd at the Park Avenue

tunnel. Annabeth and two of her siblings were holding back a Hyperborean giant.

"There!" I told Blackjack. He plunged toward the battle.

I leaped off his back and landed on the giant's head. When the giant looked up, I slid off his face,

shield-bashing his nose on the way down.

"RAWWWR!' The giant staggered backward, blue blood trickling from his nostrils.

I hit the pavement running. The Hyperborean breathed a cloud of white mist, and the temperature

dropped. The spot where I'd landed was now coated with ice, and I was covered in frost like a sugar

donut.

"Hey, ugly!" Annabeth yelled. I hoped she was talking to the giant, not me.

Blue Boy bellowed and turned toward her, exposing the unprotected back of his legs. I charged and

stabbed him behind the knee.

"WAAAAH!" The Hyperborean buckled. I waited for him to turn, but he froze. I mean he literally

turned to solid ice. From the point where I'd stabbed him, cracks appeared in his body. They got larger

and wider until the giant crumbled in a mountain of blue shards.

"Thanks." Annabeth winced, trying to catch her breath. "The pig?"

"Pork chops," I said.

"Good." She flexed her shoulder. Obviously, the wound was still bothering her, but she saw my

expression and rolled her eyes. "I'm fine, Percy. Come on! We've got plenty of enemies left."

She was right. The next hour was a blur. I fought like I'd never fought before—wading into legions of

dracaenae, taking out dozens of telkhines with every strike, destroying empousai and knocking out

enemy demigods. No matter how many I defeated, more took their place.

Annabeth and I raced from block to block, trying to shore up our defenses. Too many of our friends

lay wounded in the streets. Too many were missing.

As the night wore on and the moon got higher, we were backed up foot by foot until we were only a

block from the Empire State Building in any direction. At one point Grover was next to me, bonking

snake women over the head with his cudgel. Then he disappeared in the crowd, and it was Thalia at my

side, driving the monsters back with the power of her magic shield. Mrs. O'Leary bounded out of

nowhere, picked up a Laistrygonian giant in her mouth, and flung him into the air like a Frisbee.

Annabeth used her invisibility cap to sneak behind the enemy lines. Whenever a monster disintegrated for

no apparent reason with a surprised look on his face, I knew Annabeth had been there.

But it still wasn't enough.

"Hold your lines!" Katie Gardner shouted, somewhere off to my left.

The problem was there were too few of us to hold anything. The entrance to Olympus was twenty feet

behind me. A ring of brave demigods, Hunters, and nature spirits guarded the doors. I slashed and hacked,

destroying everything m my path, but even I was getting tired, and I couldn't be everywhere at once.

Behind the enemy troops, a few blocks to the east, a bright light began to shine. I thought it was the

sunrise. Then I realized Kronos was riding toward us on a golden chariot. A dozen Laistrygonian giants

bore torches before him. Two Hyperboreans carried his black-and-purple banners. The Titan lord looked

fresh and rested, his powers at full strength. He was taking his time advancing, letting me wear myself

down.

Annabeth appeared next to me. "We have to fall back to the doorway. Hold it at all costs!"

She was right. I was about to order a retreat when I heard the hunting horn.

It cut through the noise of the battle like a fire alarm. A chorus of horns answered from all around us,

echoing off the buildings of Manhattan.

I glanced at Thalia, but she just frowned.

"Not the Hunters," she assured me. "We're all here."

"Then who?"

The horns got louder. I couldn't tell where they were coming from because of the echo, but it sounded

like an entire army was approaching.

I was afraid it might be more enemies, but Kronos's forces looked as confused as we were. Giants

lowered their clubs. Dracaenae hissed. Even Kronos's honor guard looked uneasy.

Then, to our left, a hundred monsters cried out at once. Kronos's entire northern flank surged forward.

I thought we were doomed, but they didn't attack. They ran straight past us and crashed into their southern

allies.

A new blast of horns shattered the night. The air shimmered. In a blur of movement, an entire cavalry

appeared as if dropping out of light speed.

"Yeah, baby!" a voice wailed. "PARTY!"

A shower of arrows arced over our heads and slammed into the enemy, vaporizing hundreds of

demons. But these weren't regular arrows. They made whizzy sounds as they flew, like WHEEEEEE!

Some had pinwheels attached to them. Others had boxing gloves rather than points.

"Centaurs!" Annabeth yelled.

The Party Pony army exploded into our midst in a riot of colors: tie-dyed shirts, rainbow Afro wigs,

oversize sunglasses, and war-painted faces. Some had slogans scrawled across their flanks like HORSEZ

PWN or KRONOS SUX.

Hundreds of them filled the entire block. My brain couldn't process everything I saw, but I knew if I

were the enemy, I'd be running.

"Percy!" Chiron shouted across the sea of wild centaurs. He was dressed in armor from the waist up,

his bow in his hand, and he was grinning in satisfaction. "Sorry we're late!"

"DUDE!" Another centaur yelled. "Talk later. WASTE MONSTERS NOW!"

He locked and loaded a double-barrel paint gun and blasted an enemy hellhound bright pink. The

paint must've been mixed with Celestial bronze dust or something, because as soon as it splattered the

hellhound, the monster yelped and dissolved into a pink-and-black puddle.

"PARTY PONIES.'" a centaur yelled. "SOUTH FLORIDA!"

Somewhere across the battlefield, a twangy voice yelled back, "HEART OF TEXAS CHAPTER!"

"HAWAII OWNS YOUR FACES!" a third one shouted.

It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. The entire Titan army turned and fled, pushed back by a

flood of paintballs, arrows, swords, and NERF baseball bats. The centaurs trampled everything in their

path.

"Stop running, you fools!" Kronos yelled. "Stand and ACKK!"

That last part was because a panicked Hyperborean giant stumbled backward and sat on top of him.

The lord of time disappeared under a giant blue butt.

We pushed them for several blocks until Chiron yelled, "HOLD! On your promise, HOLD!"

It wasn't easy, but eventually the order got relayed up and down the ranks of centaurs, and they

started to pull back, letting the enemy flee.

"Chiron's smart," Annabeth said, wiping the sweat off her face. "If we pursue, we'll get too spread

out. We need to regroup."

"But the enemy—"

"They're not defeated," she agreed. "But the dawn is coming. At least we've bought some time."

I didn't like pulling back, but I knew she was right. I watched as the last of the telkhines scuttled

toward the East River. Then reluctantly I turned and headed back toward the Empire State Building.

We set up a two-block perimeter, with a command tent at the Empire State Building. Chiron informed us

that the Party Ponies had sent chapters from almost every state in the Union: forty from California, two

from Rhode Island, thirty from Illinois . . . Roughly five hundred total had answered his call, but even

with that many, we couldn't defend more than a few blocks.

"Dude," said a centaur named Larry. His T-shirt identified him as BIG CHIEF UBER GUY, NEW

MEXICO CHAPTER. "That was more fun than our last convention in Vegas!"

"Yeah," said Owen from South Dakota. He wore a black leather jacket and an old WWII army

helmet. "We totally wasted them!"

Chiron patted Owen on the back. "You did well, my friends, but don't get careless. Kronos should

never be underestimated. Now why don't you visit the diner on West 33rd and get some breakfast? I hear

the Delaware chapter found a stash of root beer."

"Root beer!" They almost trampled each other as they galloped off.

Chiron smiled. Annabeth gave him a big hug, and Mrs. O'Leary licked his face.

"Ack," he grumbled. "Enough of that, dog. Yes, I'm glad to see you too."

"Chiron, thanks," I said. "Talk about saving the day."

He shrugged. "I'm sorry it took so long. Centaurs travel fast, as you know. We can bend distance as

we ride. Even so, getting all the centaurs together was no easy task. The Party Ponies are not exactly

organized."

"How'd you get through the magic defenses around the city?" Annabeth asked.

"They slowed us down a bit," Chiron admitted, "but I think they're intended mostly to keep mortals

out. Kronos doesn't want puny humans getting in the way of his great victory."

"So maybe other reinforcements can get through," I said hopefully.

Chiron stroked his beard. "Perhaps, though time is short. As soon as Kronos regroups, he will attack

again. Without the element of surprise on our side . . ."

I understood what he meant. Kronos wasn't beaten. Not by a long shot. I half hoped Kronos had been

squashed under that Hyperborean giant's butt, but I knew better. He'd be back, tonight at the latest.

"And Typhon?" I asked.

Chiron's face darkened. "The gods are tiring. Dionysus was incapacitated yesterday. Typhon smashed

his chariot, and the wine god went down somewhere m the Appalachians. No one has seen him since.

Hephaestus is out of action as well. He was thrown from the battle so hard he created a new lake in West

Virginia. He will heal, but not soon enough to help. The others still fight. They've managed to slow

Typhon's approach. But the monster can not be stopped. He will arrive in New York by this time

tomorrow. Once he and Kronos combine forces—"

"Then what chance do we have?" I said. "We can't hold out another day."

"We'll have to," Thalia said. "I'll see about setting some new traps around the perimeter."

She looked exhausted. Her jacket was smeared in grime and monster dust, but she managed to get to

her feet and stagger off.

"I will help her," Chiron decided. "I should make sure my brethren don't go too overboard with the

root beer."

I thought "too overboard" pretty much summed up the Party Ponies, but Chiron cantered off, leaving

Annabeth and me alone.

She cleaned the monster slime off her knife. I'd seen her do that hundreds of times, but I'd never

thought about why she cared so much about the blade.

"At least your mom is okay," I offered.

"If you call fighting Typhon okay." She locked eyes with me. "Percy, even with the centaurs' help, I'm

starting to think—"

"I know." I had a bad feeling this might be our last chance to talk, and I felt like there were a million

things I hadn't told her. "Listen, there were some . . . some visions Hestia showed me."

"You mean about Luke?"

Maybe it was just a safe guess, but I got the feeling Annabeth knew what I'd been holding back.

Maybe she'd been having dreams of her own.

"Yeah," I said. "You and Thalia and Luke. The first time you met. And the time you met Hermes."

Annabeth slipped her knife back into its sheath. "Luke promised he'd never let me get hurt. He said . .

. he said we'd be a new family, and it would turn out better than his."

Her eyes reminded me of that seven-year-old girl's in the alley—angry, scared, desperate for a friend.

"Thalia talked to me earlier," I said. "She's afraid—"

"That I can't face Luke," she said miserably.

I nodded. "But there's something else you should know. Ethan Nakamura seemed to think Luke was

still alive inside his body, maybe even fighting Kronos for control."

Annabeth tried to hide it, but I could almost see her mind working on the possibilities, maybe starting

to hope.

"I didn't want to tell you," I admitted.

She looked up at the Empire State Building. "Percy, for so much of my life, I felt like everything was

changing, all the time. I didn't have anyone I could rely on."

I nodded. That was something most demigods could understand.

"I ran away when I was seven," she said. "Then with Luke and Thalia, I thought I'd found a family,

but it fell apart almost immediately. What I'm saying . . . I hate it when people let me down, when things

are temporary. I think that's why I want to be an architect."

"To build something permanent," I said. "A monument to last a thousand years."

She held my eyes. "I guess that sounds like my fatal flaw again."

Years ago in the Sea of Monsters, Annabeth had told me her biggest flaw was pride—thinking she

could fix anything. I'd even seen a glimpse of her deepest desire, shown to her by the Sirens' magic.

Annabeth had imagined her mother and father together, standing in front of a newly rebuilt Manhattan,

designed by Annabeth. And Luke had been there too—good again, welcoming her home.

"I guess I understand how you feel," I said. "But Thalia's right. Luke has already betrayed you so

many times. He was evil even before Kronos. I don't want him to hurt you anymore."

Annabeth pursed her lips. I could tell she was trying not to get mad. "And you'll understand if I keep

hoping there's a chance you're wrong."

I looked away. I felt like I'd done my best, but that didn't make me feel any better.

Across the street, the Apollo campers had set up a field hospital to tend the wounded—dozens of

campers and almost as many Hunters. I was watching the medics work, and thinking about our slim

chances for holding Mount Olympus. . . .

And suddenly: I wasn't there anymore.

I was standing in a long dingy bar with black walls, neon signs, and a bunch of partying adults. A

banner across the bar read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BOBBY EARL. Country music played on the speakers.

Big guys in jeans and work shirts crowded the bar. Waitresses carried trays of drinks and shouted at each

other. It was pretty much exactly the kind of place my mom would never let me go.

I was stuck in the very back of the room, next to the bathrooms (which didn't smell so great) and a

couple of antique arcade games.

"Oh good, you're here," said the man at the Pac-Man machine. "I'll have a Diet Coke."

He was a pudgy guy in a leopard-skin Hawaiian shirt, purple shorts, red running shoes, and black

socks, which didn't exactly make him blend in with the crowd. His nose was bright red. A bandage was

wrapped around his curly black hair like he was recovering from a concussion.

I blinked. "Mr. D?"

He sighed, not taking his eyes from the game. "Really, Peter Johnson, how long will it take for you to

recognize me on sight?"

"About as long as it'll take for you to figure out my name," I muttered. "Where are we?"

"Why, Bobby Earl's birthday party," Dionysus said. "Somewhere in lovely rural America."

"I thought Typhon swatted you out of the sky. They said you crash-landed."

"Your concern is touching. I did crash-land. Very painfully. In fact, part of me is still buried under a

hundred feet of rubble in an abandoned coal mine. It will be several more hours before I have enough

strength to mend. But in the meantime, part of my consciousness is here."

"At a bar, playing Pac-Man."

"Party time," Dionysus said. "Surely you've heard of it. Wherever there is a party, my presence is

invoked. Because of this, I can exist in many different places at once. The only problem was finding a

party. I don't know if you're aware how serious things are outside your safe little bubble of New York—"

"Safe little bubble?"

"—but believe me, the mortals out here in the heartland are panicking. Typhon has terrified them.

Very few are throwing parties. Apparently Bobby Earl and his friends, bless them, are a little slow. They

haven't yet figured out that the world is ending."

"So . . . I'm not really here?"

"No. In a moment I'll send you back to your normal insignificant life, and it will be as if nothing had

happened."

"And why did you bring me here?"

Dionysus snorted. "Oh, I didn't want you particularly. Any of you silly heroes would do. That Annie

girl—"

"Annabeth."

"The point is," he said, "I pulled you into party time to deliver a warning. We are in danger."

"Gee," I said. "Never would've figured that out. Thanks."

He glared at me and momentarily forgot his game. Pac-Man got eaten by the red ghost dude.

"Erre es korakas, Blinky!" Dionysus cursed. "I will have your soul!"

"Um, he's a video game character," I said.

"That's no excuse! And you're ruining my game, Jorgenson!"

"Jackson."

"Whichever! Now listen, the situation is graver than you imagine. If Olympus falls, not only will the

gods fade, but everything that is connected to our legacy will also begin to unravel. The very fabric of

your puny little civilization—"

The game played a song and Mr. D progressed to level 254.

"Ha!" he shouted. "Take that, you pixelated fiends!"

"Um, fabric of civilization," I prompted.

"Yes, yes. Your entire society will dissolve. Perhaps not right away, but mark my words, the chaos of

the Titans will mean the end of Western civilization. Art, law, wine tastings, music, video games, silk

shirts, black velvet paintings—all the things that make life worth living will disappear!"

"So why aren't the gods rushing back to help us?" I said. "We should combine forces at Olympus.

Forget Typhon."

He snapped his fingers impatiently. "You forgot my Diet Coke."

"Gods, you're annoying." I got the attention of a waitress and ordered the stupid soda. I put it on

Bobby Earl's tab.

Mr. D took a good long drink. His eyes never left the video game. "The truth is, Pierre—"

"Percy."

"—the other gods would never admit this, but we actually need you mortals to rescue Olympus. You

see, we are manifestations of your culture. If you don't care enough to save Olympus yourselves—"

"Like Pan," I said, "depending on the satyrs to save the Wild."

"Yes, quite. I will deny I ever said this, of course, but the gods need heroes. They always have.

Otherwise we would not keep you annoying little brats around."

"I feel so wanted. Thanks."

"Use the training I have given you at camp."

"What training?"

"You know. All those hero techniques and . . . No!" Mr. D slapped the game console. "Na pari i

eychi! The last level!"

He looked at me, and purple fire flickered in his eyes. "As 1 recall, I once predicted you would turn

out to be as selfish as all the other human heroes. Well, here is your chance to prove me wrong."

"Yeah, making you proud is real high on my list."

"You must save Olympus, Pedro! Leave Typhon to the Olympians and save our own seats of power.

It must be done!"

"Great. Nice little chat. Now, if you don't mind, my friends will be wondering—"

"There is more," Mr. D warned. "Kronos has not yet attained full power. The body of the mortal was

only a temporary measure."

"We kind of guessed that."

"And did you also guess that within a day at most, Kronos will burn away that mortal body and take

on the true form of a Titan king?"

"And that would mean . . ."

Dionysus inserted another quarter. "You know about the true forms of the gods."

"Yeah. You can't look at them without burning up."

"Kronos would be ten times more powerful. His very presence would incinerate you. And once he

achieves this, he will empower the other Titans. They are weak now, compared to what they will soon

become, unless you can stop them. The world will fall, the gods will die, and I will never achieve a

perfect score on this stupid machine."

Maybe I should've been terrified, but honestly, I was already about as scared as I could get.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

"One last thing. My son Pollux. Is he alive?"

I blinked. "Yeah, last I saw him."

"I would very much appreciate it if you could keep him that way. I lost his brother Castor last year—"

"I remember." I stared at him, trying to wrap my mind around the idea that Dionysus could be a

caring father. I wondered how many other Olympians were thinking about their demigod children right

now. "I'll do my best."

"Your best," Dionysus muttered. "Well, isn't that reassuring. Go now. You have some nasty surprises

to deal with, and I must defeat Blinky!"

"Nasty surprises?"

He waved his hand, and the bar disappeared.

I was back on Fifth Avenue. Annabeth hadn't moved. She didn't give any sign that I'd been gone or

anything.

She caught me staring and frowned. "What?"

"Um . . . nothing, I guess."

I gazed down the avenue, wondering what Mr. D had meant by nasty surprises. How much worse

could it get?

My eyes rested on a beat-up blue car. The hood was badly dented, like somebody had tried to hammer

out some huge craters. My skin tingled. Why did that car look so familiar? Then I realized it was a Prius.

Paul's Prius.

I bolted down the street.

"Percy!" Annabeth called. "Where are you going?"

Paul was passed out in the driver's seat. My mom was snoring beside him. My mind felt like mush.

How had I not seen them before? They'd been sitting here in traffic for over a day, the battle raging

around them, and I hadn't even noticed.

"They . . . they must've seen those blue lights in the sky." I rattled the doors but they were locked. "I

need to get them out."

"Percy," Annabeth said gently.

"I can't leave them here!" I sounded a little crazy. I pounded on the windshield. "I have to move them.

I have to—"

"Percy, just . . . just hold on." Annabeth waved to Chiron, who was talking to some centaurs down the

block. "We can push the car to a side street, all right? They're going to be fine."

My hands trembled. After all I'd been through over the last few days, I felt so stupid and weak, but

the sight of my parents made me want to break down.

Chiron galloped over. "What's . . . Oh dear. I see."

"They were coming to find me," I said. "My mom must've sensed something was wrong."

"Most likely," Chiron said. "But, Percy, they will be fine. The best thing we can do for them is stay

focused on our job."

Then I noticed something in the backseat of the Prius, and my heart skipped a beat. Seat-belted

behind my mother was a black-and-white Greek jar about three feet tall. Its lid was wrapped in a leather

harness.

"No way," I muttered.

Annabeth pressed her hand to the window. "That's impossible! I thought you left that at the Plaza."

"Locked in a vault," I agreed.

Chiron saw the jar and his eyes widened. "That isn't— "

"Pandora's jar." I told him about my meeting with Prometheus.

"Then the jar is yours," Chiron said grimly. "It will follow you and tempt you to open it, no matter

where you leave it. It will appear when you are weakest."

Like now, I thought. Looking at my helpless parents.

I imagined Prometheus smiling, so anxious to help out us poor mortals. Give up Hope, and I will

know that you are surrendering. I promise Kronos will be lenient.

Anger surged through me. I drew Riptide and cut through the driver's side window like it was made

of plastic wrap.

"We'll put the car in neutral," I said. "Push them out of the way. And take that stupid jar to Olympus."

Chiron nodded. "A good plan. But, Percy . . ."

Whatever he was going to say, he faltered. A mechanical drumbeat grew loud in the distance—the

chop-chop-chop of a helicopter.

On a normal Monday morning in New York, this would've been no big deal, but after two days of

silence, a mortal helicopter was the oddest thing I'd ever heard. A few blocks east, the monster army

shouted and jeered as the helicopter came into view. It was a civilian model painted dark red, with a

bright green "DE" logo on the side. The words under the logo were too small to read, but I knew what

they said: DARE ENTERPRISES.

My throat closed up. I looked at Annabeth and could tell she recognized the logo too. Her face was as

red as the helicopter.

"What is she doing here?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get through the barrier?"

"Who?" Chiron looked confused. "What mortal would be insane enough—"

Suddenly the helicopter pitched forward.

"The Morpheus enchantment!" Chiron said. "The foolish mortal pilot is asleep."

I watched in horror as the helicopter careened sideways, falling toward a row of office buildings.

Even if it didn't crash, the gods of the air would probably swat it out of the sky for coming near the

Empire State Building.

I was too paralyzed to move, but Annabeth whistled and Guido the pegasus swooped out of nowhere.

You rang for a handsome horse? he asked.

"Come on, Percy," Annabeth growled. "We have to save your friend."

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