by Rick Riordan
‘Begone,’ Nico said.
The spirit dissipated. The earth closed.
Nico looked back and saw that his friends were safe. Reyna and the coach stared at him in horror. Reyna’s face was bleeding. Aurum and Argentum turned in circles, as if their mechanical brains had short-circuited.
Nico collapsed.
His dreams made no sense, which was almost a relief.
A flock of ravens circled in a dark sky. Then the ravens turned into horses galloping through the surf.
He saw his sister Bianca sitting in the dining pavilion at Camp Half-Blood with the Hunters of Artemis. She smiled and laughed with her new group of friends. Then Bianca changed into Hazel, who kissed Nico on the cheek and said, ‘I want you to be an exception.’
He saw the harpy Ella with her shaggy red hair and red feathers, her eyes like dark coffee. She perched on the couch of the Big House’s living room. Propped next to her was the magical stuffed leopard head Seymour. Ella rocked back and forth, feeding the leopard Cheetos.
‘Cheese is not good for harpies,’ she muttered. Then she scrunched up her face and chanted one of her memorized lines of prophecy: ‘The fall of the sun, the final verse.’ She fed Seymour more Cheetos. ‘Cheese is good for leopard heads.’
Seymour roared in agreement.
Ella changed into a dark-haired, extremely pregnant cloud nymph, writhing in pain on a camp bunk bed. Clarisse La Rue sat next to her, wiping the nymph’s head with a cool cloth. ‘Mellie, you’ll be fine,’ Clarisse said, though she sounded worried.
‘No, nothing is fine!’ Mellie wailed. ‘Gaia is rising!’
The scene shifted. Nico stood with Hades in the Berkeley Hills on the day Hades first led him to Camp Jupiter. ‘Go to them,’ said the god. ‘Introduce yourself as a child of Pluto. It is important you make this connection.’
‘Why?’ Nico asked.
Hades dissolved. Nico found himself back in Tartarus, standing before Akhlys, the goddess of misery. Blood streaked her cheeks. Tears streamed from her eyes, dripped on the shield of Hercules in her lap. ‘Child of Hades, what more could I do to you? You are perfect! So much sorrow and pain!’
Nico gasped.
His eyes flew open.
He was flat on his back, staring at the sunlight in the tree branches.
‘Thank the gods.’ Reyna leaned over him, her hand cool on his forehead. The bleeding cut on her face was completely gone.
Next to her, Coach Hedge scowled. Sadly, Nico had a great view right up his nostrils.
‘Good,’ said the coach. ‘Just a few more applications.’
He held up a large square bandage coated with sticky brown gunk and plastered it over Nico’s nose.
‘What is … ? Ugh.’
The gunk smelled like potting soil, cedar chips, grape juice and just a hint of fertilizer. Nico didn’t have the strength to remove it.
His senses started to work again. He realized he was lying on a sleeping bag outside the tent. He was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and a thousand gross, brown-plastered bandages all over his body. His arms, legs and chest were itchy from the drying mud.
‘Are – are you trying to plant me?’ he murmured.
‘It’s sports medicine with a little nature magic,’ said the coach. ‘Kind of a hobby of mine.’
Nico tried to focus on Reyna’s face. ‘You approved this?’
She looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion, but she managed a smile. ‘Coach Hedge brought you back from the brink. The unicorn draught, ambrosia, nectar … we couldn’t use any of it. You were fading so badly.’
‘Fading … ?’
‘Don’t worry about that now, kid.’ Hedge put a drinking straw next to Nico’s mouth. ‘Have some Gatorade.’
‘I – I don’t want –’
‘You’ll have some Gatorade,’ the coach insisted.
Nico had some Gatorade. He was surprised at how thirsty he was.
‘What happened to me?’ he asked. ‘To Bryce … to those skeletons … ?’
Reyna and the coach exchanged an uneasy look.
‘There’s good news and bad news,’ Reyna said. ‘But first eat something. You’ll need your strength back before you hear the bad news.’
XXXII
Nico
‘THREE DAYS?’
Nico wasn’t sure he’d heard her right the first dozen times.
‘We couldn’t move you,’ Reyna said. ‘I mean … literally, you couldn’t be moved. You had almost no substance. If it weren’t for Coach Hedge –’
‘No biggie,’ the coach assured him. ‘One time in the middle of a play-off game I had to splint a quarterback’s leg with nothing but tree branches and strapping tape.’
Despite his nonchalance, the satyr had bags under his eyes. His cheeks were sunken. He looked almost as bad as Nico felt.
Nico couldn’t believe he’d been unconscious for so long. He recounted his weird dreams – the mutterings of Ella the harpy, the glimpse of Mellie the cloud nymph (which worried the coach) – but Nico felt as if those visions had lasted only seconds. According to Reyna, it was the afternoon of 30 July. He’d been in a shadow coma for days.
‘The Romans will attack Camp Half-Blood the day after tomorrow.’ Nico sipped more Gatorade, which was nice and cold, but without flavour. His taste buds seemed to have phased into the shadow world permanently. ‘We have to hurry. I have to get ready.’
‘No.’ Reyna pressed her hand against his forearm, making the bandages crinkle. ‘Any more shadow-travel would kill you.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘If it kills me, it kills me. We have to get the statue to Camp Half-Blood.’
‘Hey, kid,’ said the coach, ‘I appreciate your dedication, but, if you zap us all into eternal darkness along with the Athena Parthenos, it’s not going to help anybody. Bryce Lawrence was right about that.’
At the mention of Bryce, Reyna’s metallic dogs pricked up their ears and snarled.
Reyna stared at the cairn of rocks, her eyes full of torment, as if more unwelcome spirits might emerge from the grave.
Nico took a breath, getting a nose full of Hedge’s fragrant home remedy. ‘Reyna, I … I didn’t think. What I did to Bryce –’
‘You destroyed him,’ Reyna said. ‘You turned him into a ghost. And, yes, it reminded me of what happened to my father.’
‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ Nico said bitterly. ‘I didn’t mean to … to poison another friendship. I’m sorry.’
Reyna studied his face. ‘Nico, I have to admit, the first day you were unconscious, I didn’t know what to think or feel. What you did was hard to watch … hard to process.’
Coach Hedge chewed on a stick. ‘I gotta agree with the girl on this one, kid. Smashing somebody’s head in with a baseball bat, that’s one thing. But ghostifying that creep? That was some dark stuff.’
Nico expected to feel angry – to shout at them for trying to judge him. That’s what he normally did.
But his anger wouldn’t materialize. He still felt plenty of rage towards Bryce Lawrence, and Gaia and the giants. He wanted to find the augur Octavian and strangle him with his chain belt. But he wasn’t mad at Reyna or the coach.
‘Why did you bring me back?’ he asked. ‘You knew I couldn’t help you any more. You should’ve found another way to keep going with the statue. But you wasted three days watching over me. Why?’
Coach Hedge snorted. ‘You’re part of the team, you idiot. We’re not going to leave you behind.’
‘It’s more than that.’ Reyna rested her hand on Nico’s. ‘While you were asleep, I did a lot of thinking. What I told you about my father … I’d never shared that with anyone. I guess I knew you were the right person to confide in. You lifted some of my burden. I trust you, Nico.’
Nico stared at her, mystified. ‘How can you trust me? You both felt my anger, saw my worst feelings …’
‘Hey, kid,’ said Coach Hedge, his tone softer. ‘We all get angry. Even a sweetheart like
me.’
Reyna smirked. She squeezed Nico’s hand. ‘Coach is right, Nico. You’re not the only one who lets out the darkness once in a while. I told you what happened with my dad, and you supported me. You shared your painful experiences; how can we not support you? We’re friends.’
Nico wasn’t sure what to say. They’d seen his deepest secrets. They knew who he was, what he was.
But they didn’t seem to care. No … they cared more.
They weren’t judging him. They were concerned. None of it made sense to him.
‘But Bryce. I …’ Nico couldn’t continue.
‘You did what had to be done. I see that now,’ Reyna said. ‘Just promise me: no more turning people into ghosts if we can avoid it.’
‘Yeah,’ Coach said. ‘Unless you let me whale on them first. Besides, it’s not all bad news.’
Reyna nodded. ‘We’ve seen no sign of other Romans, so it appears Bryce didn’t notify anyone else where he was. Also, no sign of Orion. Hopefully that means he was taken down by the Hunters.’
‘And Hylla?’ Nico asked. ‘Thalia?’
The lines tightened around Reyna’s mouth. ‘No word. But I have to believe they’re still alive.’
‘You didn’t tell him the best news,’ the coach prompted.
Reyna frowned. ‘Maybe because it’s so hard to believe. Coach Hedge thinks he’s found another way to transport the statue. It’s all he’s talked about for the past three days. But so far we’ve seen no sign of –’
‘Hey, it’ll happen!’ Coach grinned at Nico. ‘You remember that paper aeroplane I got right before Creepmeister Lawrence showed up? It was a message from one of Mellie’s contacts in the palace of Aeolus. This harpy, Nuggets – she and Mellie go way back. Anyway … she knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a horse who knows a goat who knows another horse –’
‘Coach,’ Reyna chided, ‘you’ll make him sorry he came out of his coma.’
‘Fine,’ the satyr huffed. ‘Long story short, I pulled in a lot of favours. I got word to the right wind-type spirits that we needed help. The letter I ate? Confirmation that the cavalry is coming. They said it would take a while to organize, but he should be here soon – any minute, in fact.’
‘Who’s he?’ Nico asked. ‘What cavalry?’
Reyna stood abruptly. She stared towards the north, her face slack with awe. ‘That cavalry …’
Nico followed her gaze. A flock of birds was approaching – large birds.
They got closer, and Nico realized they were horses with wings – at least half a dozen in V formation, without riders.
Flying on point was a massive stallion with a golden coat and multicoloured plumage like an eagle’s, his wingspan twice as wide as the other horses’.
‘Pegasi,’ Nico said. ‘You summoned enough to carry the statue.’
Coach laughed with delight. ‘Not just any pegasi, kid. You’re in for a real treat.’
‘The stallion in front …’ Reyna shook her head in disbelief. ‘That’s the Pegasus, the immortal lord of horses.’
XXXIII
Leo
TYPICAL.
Just as Leo finished his modifications, a big storm goddess came along and smacked the grommets right out of his ship.
After their encounter with Kymopo-what’s-her-name, the Argo II limped through the Aegean, too damaged to fly, too slow to outrun monsters. They fought hungry sea serpents about every hour. They attracted schools of curious fish. At one point they got stuck on a rock, and Percy and Jason had to get out and push.
The wheezing sound of the engine made Leo want to cry. Over the course of three long days, he finally got the ship more or less back to working order just as they made port at the island of Mykonos, which probably meant it was time for them to get bashed to pieces again.
Percy and Annabeth went ashore to scout while Leo stayed on the quarterdeck, fine-tuning the control console. He was so engrossed in the wiring that he didn’t notice the landing party was back until Percy said, ‘Hey, man. Gelato.’
Instantly, Leo’s day got better. The whole crew sat on deck, without a storm or a monster attack to worry about for the first time in days, and ate ice cream. Well, except for Frank, who was lactose intolerant. He got an apple.
The day was hot and windy. The sea glittered with chop, but Leo had fixed the stabilizers well enough that Hazel didn’t look too seasick.
Curving off to their starboard side was the town of Mykonos – a collection of white stucco buildings with blue roofs, blue windows and blue doors.
‘We saw these pelicans walking around town,’ Percy reported. ‘Like, just going through the shops, stopping at the bars.’
Hazel frowned. ‘Monsters in disguise?’
‘No,’ Annabeth said, laughing, ‘just regular old pelicans. They’re the town mascots or something. And there’s a “Little Italy” section of town. That’s why the gelato is so good.’
‘Europe is messed up.’ Leo shook his head. ‘First we go to Rome for Spanish steps. Then we go to Greece for Italian ice cream.’
But he couldn’t argue with the gelato. He ate his double chocolate delight and tried to imagine that he and his friends were just chilling on a vacation. Which made him wish Calypso was with him, which made him wish the war was over and everybody was alive … which made him sad. It was 30 July. Less than forty-eight hours until G-Day, when Gaia, the Princess of Potty Sludge, would awaken in all her dirt-faced glory.
The strange thing was, the closer they got to 1 August, the more upbeat his friends acted. Or maybe upbeat wasn’t the right word. They seemed to be pulling together for the final lap – aware that the next two days would make or break them. There was no point moping around when you faced imminent death. The end of the world made gelato taste a lot better.
Of course, the rest of the crew hadn’t been down in the stables with Leo, talking with the victory goddess Nike over the past three days …
Piper set down her ice-cream cup. ‘So, the island of Delos is right across the harbour. Artemis and Apollo’s home turf. Who’s going?’
‘Me,’ Leo said immediately.
Everybody stared at him.
‘What?’ Leo demanded. ‘I’m diplomatic and stuff. Frank and Hazel volunteered to back me up.’
‘We did?’ Frank lowered his half-eaten apple. ‘I mean … sure we did.’
Hazel’s gold eyes flashed in the sunlight. ‘Leo, did you have a dream about this or something?’
‘Yes,’ Leo blurted. ‘Well … no. Not exactly. But … you got to trust me on this, guys. I need to talk to Apollo and Artemis. I’ve got an idea I need to bounce off them.’
Annabeth frowned. She looked like she might object, but Jason spoke up.
‘If Leo has an idea,’ he said, ‘we need to trust him.’
Leo felt guilty about that, especially considering what his idea was, but he mustered a smile. ‘Thanks, man.’
Percy shrugged. ‘Okay. But a word of advice: when you see Apollo, don’t mention haiku.’
Hazel knitted her eyebrows. ‘Why not? Isn’t he the god of poetry?’
‘Just trust me.’
‘Got it.’ Leo rose to his feet. ‘And, guys, if they have a souvenir shop on Delos, I’m totally bringing you back some Apollo and Artemis bobbleheads!’
Apollo didn’t seem to be in the mood for haiku. He wasn’t selling bobbleheads, either.
Frank had turned into a giant eagle to fly to Delos, but Leo hitched a ride with Hazel on Arion’s back. No offence to Frank, but after the fiasco at Fort Sumter Leo had become a conscientious objector to riding giant eagles. He had a one hundred percent failure rate.
They found the island deserted, maybe because the seas were too choppy for the tourist boats. The windswept hills were barren except for rocks, grass and wildflowers – and, of course, a bunch of crumbling temples. The rubble was probably very impressive, but, ever since Olympia, Leo had been on ancient ruins overload. He was so done with white marble columns. He wanted to g
et back to the U.S., where the oldest buildings were the public schools and Ye Olde McDonald’s.
They walked down an avenue lined with white stone lions, the faces weathered almost featureless.
‘It’s eerie,’ Hazel said.
‘You sense any ghosts?’ Frank asked.
She shook her head. ‘The lack of ghosts is eerie. Back in ancient times, Delos was sacred ground. No mortal was allowed to be born here or die here. There are literally no mortal spirits on this whole island.’
‘Cool with me,’ Leo said. ‘Does that mean nobody’s allowed to kill us here?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ Hazel stopped at the summit of a low hill. ‘Look. Down there.’
Below them, the hillside had been carved into an amphitheatre. Scrubby plants sprouted between the rows of stone benches, so it looked like a concert for thorn bushes. Down at the bottom, sitting on a block of stone in the middle of the stage, the god Apollo hunched over a ukulele, plucking out a mournful tune.
At least, Leo assumed it was Apollo. The dude looked about seventeen, with curly blond hair and a perfect tan. He wore tattered jeans, a black T-shirt and a white linen jacket with glittering rhinestone lapels, like he was trying for an Elvis/Ramones/Beach Boys hybrid look.
Leo didn’t usually think of the ukulele as a sad instrument. (Pathetic, sure. But not sad.) Yet the tune Apollo strummed was so melancholy it broke Leo’s feels.
Sitting in the front row was a young girl of about thirteen, wearing black leggings and a silver tunic, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was whittling on a long piece of wood – making a bow.
‘Those are the gods?’ Frank asked. ‘They don’t look like twins.’
‘Well, think about it,’ Hazel said. ‘If you’re a god, you can look like whatever you want. If you had a twin –’
‘I’d choose to look like anything but my sibling,’ Frank agreed. ‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Don’t shoot!’ yelled Leo. It seemed like a good opening line, facing two archery gods. He raised his arms and headed down to the stage.
Neither god looked surprised to see them.
Apollo sighed and went back to playing his ukulele.
When they got to the front row, Artemis muttered, ‘There you are. We were beginning to wonder.’
That took the pressure out of Leo’s pistons. He’d been ready to introduce himself, explain how they’d come in peace, maybe tell a few jokes and offer breath mints.
‘So you were expecting us, then,’ Leo said. ‘I can tell, because you’re both so excited.’
Apollo plucked a tune that sounded like the funeral version of ‘Camptown Races’. ‘We were expecting to be found, bothered and tormented. We didn’t know by whom. Can you not leave us to our misery?’
‘You know they can’t, brother,’ Artemis chided. ‘They require our help with their quest, even if the odds are hopeless.’
