by Rick Riordan
I whirled through the ranks, slashing redcoats to dust, one after the other. My mind went on autopilot: stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Riptide was no longer a sword. It was an arc of pure destruction.
I broke through the enemy line and leaped into the black chariot. Hades raised his staff. A bolt of dark energy shot toward me, but I deflected it off my blade and slammed into him. The god and I both tumbled out of the chariot.
The next thing I knew, my knee was planted on Hades's chest. I was holding the collar of his royal robes in one fist, and the tip of my sword was poised right over his face.
Silence. The army did nothing to defend their master. I glanced back and realized why. There was nothing left of them but weapons in the sand and piles of smoking, empty uniforms. I had destroyed them all.
Hades swallowed. "Now, Jackson, listen here. . . ."
He was immortal. There was no way I could kill him, but gods can be wounded. I knew that firsthand, and I figured a sword in the face wouldn't feel too good.
"Just because I'm a nice person," I snarled, "I'll let you go. But first, tell me about that trap!"
Hades melted into nothing, leaving me holding empty black robes.
I cursed and got to my feet, breathing heavily. Now that the danger was over, I realized how tired I was. Every muscle in my body ached. I looked down at my clothes. They were slashed to pieces and full of bullet holes, but I was fine. Not a mark on me.
Nico's mouth hung open. "You just . . . with a sword . . . you just—"
"I think the river thing worked," I said.
"Oh gee," he said sarcastically. "You think?"
Mrs. O'Leary barked happily and wagged her tail. She bounded around, sniffing empty uniforms and hunting for bones. I lifted Hades's robe. I could still see the tormented faces shimmering in the fabric.
I walked to the edge of the river. "Be free."
I dropped the robe in the water and watched as it swirled away, dissolving in the current.
"Go back to your father," I told Nico. "Tell him he owes me for letting him go. Find out what's going to happen to Mount Olympus and convince him to help."
Nico stared at me. "I . . . I can't. He'll hate me now. I mean . . . even more."
"You have to," I said. "You owe me too."
His ears turned red. "Percy, I told you I was sorry. Please . . . let me come with you. I want to fight."
"You'll be more help down here."
"You mean you don't trust me anymore," he said miserably.
I didn't answer. I didn't know what I meant. I was too stunned by what I'd just done in battle to think clearly.
"Just go back to your father," I said, trying not to sound too harsh. "Work on him. You're the only person who might be able to get him to listen."
"That's a depressing thought." Nico sighed. "All right. I'll do my best. Besides, he's still hiding something from me about my mom. Maybe I can find out what."
"Good luck. Now Mrs. O'Leary and I have to go."
"Where?" Nico said.
I looked at the cave entrance and thought about the long climb back to the world of the living. "To get this war started. It's time I found Luke."
NINE
TWO SNAKES SAVE MY LIFE
I love New York. You can pop out of the Underworld in Central Park, hail a taxi, head down Fifth Avenue with a giant hellhound loping along behind you, and nobody even looks at you funny.
Of course, the Mist helped. People probably couldn't see Mrs. O'Leary, or maybe they thought she was a large, loud, very friendly truck.
I took the risk of using my mom's cell phone to call Annabeth for the second time. I'd called her once from the runnel but only reached her voice mail. I'd gotten surprisingly good reception, seeing as I was at the mythological center of the world and all, but I didn't want to see what my mom's roaming charges were going to be.
This time, Annabeth picked up.
"Hey," I said. "You get my message?"
"Percy, where have you been? Your message said almost nothing! We've been worried sick!"
"I'll fill you in later," I said, though how I was going to do that I had no idea. "Where are you?"
"We're on our way like you asked, almost to the Queens—Midtown Tunnel. But, Percy, what are you planning? We've left the camp virtually undefended, and there's no way the gods—"
"Trust me," I said. "I'll see you there."
I hung up. My hands were trembling. I wasn't sure if it was a leftover reaction from my dip in the Styx, or anticipation of what I was about to do. If this didn't work, being invulnerable wasn't going to save me from getting blasted to bits.
It was late afternoon when the taxi dropped me at the Empire State Building. Mrs. O'Leary bounded up and down Fifth Avenue, licking cabs and sniffing hot dog carts. Nobody seemed to notice her, although people did swerve away and look confused when she came close.
I whistled for her to heel as three white vans pulled up to the curb. They said Delphi Strawberry Service, which was the cover name for Camp Half-Blood. I'd never seen all three vans in the same place at once, though I knew they shuttled our fresh produce into the city.
The first van was driven by Argus, our many-eyed security chief. The other two were driven by harpies, who are basically demonic human/chicken hybrids with bad attitudes. We used the harpies mostly for cleaning the camp, but they did pretty well in midtown traffic too.
The doors slid open. A bunch of campers climbed out, some of them looking a little green from the long drive. I was glad so many had come: Pollux, Silena Beauregard, the Stoll brothers, Michael Yew, Jake Mason, Katie Gardner, and Annabeth, along with most of their siblings. Chiron came out of the van last. His horse half was compacted into his magic wheelchair, so he used the handicap lift. The Ares cabin wasn't here, but I tried not to get too angry about that. Clarisse was a stubborn idiot. End of story.
I did a head count: forty campers in all.
Not many to fight a war, but it was still the largest group of half-bloods I'd ever seen gathered in one place outside camp. Everyone looked nervous, and I understood why. We were probably sending out so much demigod aura that every monster in the northeastern United States knew we were here.
As I looked at their faces—all these campers I'd known for so many summers—a nagging voice whispered in my mind: One of them is a spy.
But I couldn't dwell on that. They were my friends. I needed them.
Then I remembered Kronos's evil smile. You can't count on friends. They will always let you down.
Annabeth came up to me. She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder—ready for stabbing or surfing the Internet, whichever came first.
She frowned. "What is it?"
"What's what?" I asked.
"You're looking at me funny."
I realized I was thinking about my strange vision of Annabeth pulling me out of the Styx River. "It's, uh, nothing." I turned to the rest of the group. "Thanks for coming, everybody. Chiron, after you."
My old mentor shook his head. "I came to wish you luck, my boy. But I make it a point never to visit Olympus unless I am summoned."
"But you're our leader."
He smiled. "I am your trainer, your teacher. That is not the same as being your leader. I will go gather what allies I can. It may not be too late to convince my brother centaurs to help. Meanwhile, you called the campers here, Percy. You are the leader."
I wanted to protest, but everybody was looking at me expectantly, even Annabeth.
I took a deep breath. "Okay, like I told Annabeth on the phone, something bad is going to happen by tonight. Some kind of trap. We've got to get an audience with Zeus and convince him to defend the city. Remember, we can't take no for an answer."
I asked Argus to watch Mrs. O'Leary, which neither of them looked happy about.
Chiron shook my hand. "You'll do well, Percy. Just remember your strengths and beware your weaknesses."
It sounded eerily close to what Achilles had told me. Then I remembered Chiron had taught Achilles. That didn't exactly reassure me, but I nodded and tried to give him a confident smile.
"Let's go," I told the campers.
A security guard was sitting behind the desk in the lobby, reading a big black book with a flower on the cover. He glanced up when we all filed in with our weapons and armor clanking. "School group? We're about to close up."
"No," I said. "Six-hundredth floor."
He checked us out. His eyes were pale blue and his head was completely bald. I couldn't tell if he was human or not, but he seemed to notice our weapons, so I guess he wasn't fooled by the Mist.
"There is no six-hundredth floor, kid." He said it like it was a required line he didn't believe. "Move along."
I leaned across the desk. "Forty demigods attract an awful lot of monsters. You really want us hanging out in your lobby?"
He thought about that. Then he hit a buzzer and the security gate swung open. "Make it quick."
"You don't want us going through the metal detectors," I added.
"Um, no," he agreed. "Elevator on the right. I guess you know the way."
I tossed him a golden drachma and we marched ill rough.
We decided it would take two trips to get everybody up in the elevator. I went with the first group. Different elevator music was playing since my last visit—that old disco song "Stayin' Alive." A terrifying image flashed through my mind of Apollo in bell-bottom pants and a slinky silk shirt.
I was glad when the elevator doors finally dinged open. In front of us, a path of floating stones led through the clouds up to Mount Olympus, hovering six thousand feet over Manhattan.
I'd seen Olympus several times, but it still took my breath away. The mansions glittered gold and white against the sides of the mountain. Gardens bloomed on a hundred terraces. Scented smoke rose from braziers that lined the winding streets. And right at the top of the snow-capped crest rose the main palace of the gods. It looked as majestic as ever, but something seemed wrong. Then I realized the mountain was silent—no music, no voices, no laughter.
Annabeth studied me. "You look . . . different," she decided. "Where exactly did you go?"
The elevator doors opened again, and the second group of half-bloods joined us.
"Tell you later," I said. "Come on."
We made our way across the sky bridge into the streets of Olympus. The shops were closed. The parks were empty. A couple of Muses sat on a bench strumming flaming lyres, but their hearts didn't seem to be in it. A lone Cyclops swept the street with an uprooted oak tree. A minor godling spotted us from a balcony and ducked inside, closing his shutters.
We passed under a big marble archway with statues of Zeus and Hera on either side. Annabeth made a face at the queen of the gods.
"Hate her," she muttered.
"Has she been cursing you or something?" I asked. Last year Annabeth had gotten on Hera's bad side, but Annabeth hadn't really talked about it since.
"Just little stuff so far," she said. "Her sacred animal is the cow, right?"
"Right."
"So she sends cows after me."
I tried not to smile. "Cows? In San Francisco?"
"Oh, yeah. Usually I don't see them, but the cows leave me little presents all over the place—in our backyard, on the sidewalk, in the school hallways. I have to be careful where I step."
"Look!" Pollux cried, pointing toward the horizon. "What is that?"
We all froze. Blue lights were streaking across the evening sky toward Olympus like tiny comets. They seemed to be coming from all over the city, heading straight toward the mountain. As they got close, they fizzled out. We watched them for several minutes and they didn't seem to do any damage, but still it was strange.
"Like infrared scopes," Michael Yew muttered. "We're being targeted."
"Let's get to the palace," I said.
No one was guarding the hall of the gods. The gold-and-silver doors stood wide open. Our footsteps echoed as we walked into the throne room.
Of course, "room" doesn't really cover it. The place was the size of Madison Square Garden. High above, the blue ceiling glittered with constellations. Twelve giant empty thrones stood in a U around a hearth. In one corner, a house-size globe of water hovered in the air, and inside swam my old friend the Ophiotaurus, half-cow, half-serpent.
"Moooo!" he said happily, turning in a circle.
Despite all the serious stuff going on, I had to smile. Two years ago we'd spent a lot of time trying to save the Ophiotaurus from the Titans, and I'd gotten kind of fond of him. He seemed to like me too, even though I'd originally thought he was a girl and named him Bessie.
"Hey, man," I said. "They treating you okay?"
"Mooo," Bessie answered.
We walked toward the thrones, and a woman's voice said, "Hello again, Percy Jackson. You and your friends are welcome."
Hestia stood by the hearth, poking the flames with a stick. She wore the same kind of simple brown dress as she had before, but she was a grown woman now.
I bowed. "Lady Hestia."
My friends followed my example.
Hestia regarded me with her red glowing eyes. "I see you went through with your plan. You bear the curse of Achilles."
The other campers started muttering among themselves: What did she say? What about Achilles?
"You must be careful," Hestia warned me. "You gained much on your journey. But you are still blind to the most important truth. Perhaps a glimpse is in order."
Annabeth nudged me. "Um . . . what is she talking about?"
I stared into Hestia's eyes, and an image rushed into my mind: I saw a dark alley between red brick warehouses. A sign above one of the doors read RICHMOND IRONWORKS.
Two half-bloods crouched in the shadows—a boy about fourteen and a girl about twelve. I realized with a start that the boy was Luke. The girl was Thalia, daughter of Zeus. I was seeing a scene from back in the days when they were on the run, before Grover found them.
Luke carried a bronze knife. Thalia had her spear and shield of terror, Aegis. Luke and Thalia both looked hungry and lean, with wild animal eyes, like they were used to being attacked.
"Are you sure?" Thalia asked.
Luke nodded. "Something down here. I sense it."
A rumble echoed from the alley, like someone had banged on a sheet of metal. The half-bloods crept forward.
Old crates were stacked on a loading dock. Thalia and Luke approached with their weapons ready. A curtain of corrugated tin quivered as if something were behind it.
Thalia glanced at Luke. He counted silently: One, two, three! He ripped away the tin, and a little girl flew at him with a hammer.
"Whoa!" Luke said.
The girl had tangled blond hair and was wearing flannel pajamas. She couldn't have been more than seven, but she would've brained Luke if he hadn't been so fast.
He grabbed her wrist, and the hammer skittered across the cement.
The little girl fought and kicked. "No more monsters! Go away!"
"It's okay!" Luke struggled to hold her. "Thalia, put your shield up. You're scaring her."
Thalia tapped Aegis, and it shrank into a silver bracelet. "Hey, it's all right," she said. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm Thalia. This is Luke."
"Monsters!"
"No," Luke promised. "But we know all about monsters. We fight them too."
Slowly, the girl stopped kicking. She studied Luke and Thalia with large intelligent gray eyes.
"You're like me?" she said suspiciously.
"Yeah," Luke said. "We're . . . well, it's hard to explain, but we're monster fighters. Where's your family?"
"My family hates me," the girl said. "They don't want me. I ran away."
Thalia and Luke locked eyes. I knew they both related to what she was saying.
"What's your name, kiddo?" Thalia asked.
"Annabeth."
Luke smiled. "Nice name. I tell you w
hat, Annabeth—you're pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you."
Annabeth's eyes widened. "You could?"
"Oh, yeah." Luke turned his knife and offered her the handle. "How'd you like a real monster-slaying weapon? This is Celestial bronze. Works a lot better than a hammer."
Maybe under most circumstances, offering a seven-year-old kid a knife would not be a good idea, but when you're a half-blood, regular rules kind of go out the window.
Annabeth gripped the hilt.
"Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters," Luke explained. "They don't have the reach or power of a sword, but they're easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy's armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you're pretty clever."
Annabeth stared at him with adoration. "I am!"
Thalia grinned. "We'd better get going, Annabeth. We have a safe house on the James River. We'll get you some clothes and food."
"You're . . . you're not going to take me back to my family?" she said. "Promise?"
Luke put his hand on her shoulder. "You're part of our family now. And I promise I won't let anything hurt you. I'm not going to fail you like our families did us. Deal?"
"Deal!" Annabeth said happily.
"Now, come on," Thalia said. "We can't stay put for long!"
The scene shifted. The three demigods were running through the woods. It must've been several days later, maybe even weeks. All of them looked beat up, like they'd seen some battles. Annabeth was wearing new clothes—jeans and an oversize army jacket.
"Just a little farther!" Luke promised. Annabeth stumbled, and he took her hand. Thalia brought up the rear, brandishing her shield like she was driving back whatever pursued them. She was limping on her left leg.
They scrambled to a ridge and looked down the other side at a white Colonial house—May Castellan's place.
"All right," Luke said, breathing hard. "I'll just sneak in and grab some food and medicine. Wait here."
"Luke, are you sure?" Thalia asked. "You swore you'd never come back here. If she catches you—"
"We don't have a choice!" he growled. "They burned our nearest safe house. And you've got to treat that leg wound."
