by Rick Riordan
Ten seconds left, maybe. But at least her dad sounded sincere, like he really did feel remorseful.
“You don’t remember anything?” she said, a bit wistfully.
“Of course I do,” he said.
A chill went down her neck. “You do?”
“I remember that I love you,” he said. “And I’m proud of you. Are you happy at your new school?”
Piper blinked. She wasn’t going to cry now. After all she’d been through, that would be ridiculous. “Yeah, Dad. It’s more like a camp, not a school, but … Yeah, I think I’ll be happy here.”
“Call me as often as you can,” he said. “And come home for Christmas. And Pipes …”
“Yes?”
He touched the screen as if trying to reach through with his hand. “You’re a wonderful young lady. I don’t tell you that often enough. You remind me so much of your mother. She’d be proud. And Grandpa Tom”—he chuckled—“he always said you’d be the most powerful voice in our family. You’re going to outshine me some day, you know. They’re going to remember me as Piper McLean’s father, and that’s the best legacy I can imagine.”
Piper tried to answer, but she was afraid she’d break down. She just touched his fingers on the screen and nodded.
Mellie said something in the background, and her dad sighed. “Studio calling. I’m sorry, honey.” And he did sound genuinely annoyed to go.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she managed. “Love you.”
He winked. Then the video call went black.
Forty-five seconds? Maybe a full minute.
Piper smiled. A small improvement, but it was progress.
At the commons area, she found Jason relaxing on a bench, a basketball between his feet. He was sweaty from working out, but he looked great in his orange tank top and shorts. His various scars and bruises from the quest were healing, thanks to some medical attention from the Apollo cabin. His arms and legs were well muscled and tan—distracting as always. His close-cropped blond hair caught the afternoon light so it looked like it was turning to gold, Midas style.
“Hey,” he said. “How did it go?”
It took her a second to focus on his question. “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Fine.”
She sat next to him and they watched the campers going back and forth. A couple of Demeter girls were playing tricks on two of the Apollo guys—making grass grow around their ankles as they shot baskets. Over at the camp store, the Hermes kids were putting up a sign that read: flying shoes, slightly used, 50% off today! Ares kids were lining their cabin with fresh barbed wire. The Hypnos cabin was snoring away. A normal day at camp.
Meanwhile, the Aphrodite kids were watching Piper and Jason, and trying to pretend they weren’t. Piper was pretty sure she saw money change hands, like they were placing bets on a kiss.
“Get any sleep?” she asked him.
He looked at her as if she’d been reading his thoughts. “Not much. Dreams.”
“About your past?”
He nodded.
She didn’t push him. If he wanted to talk, that was fine, but she knew him better than to press the subject. She didn’t even worry that her knowledge of him was mostly based on three months of false memories. You can sense possibilities, her mother had said. And Piper was determined to make those possibilities a reality.
Jason spun his basketball. “It’s not good news,” he warned. “My memories aren’t good for—for any of us.”
Piper was pretty sure he’d been about to say for us—as in the two of them, and she wondered if he’d remembered a girl from his past. But she didn’t let it bother her. Not on a sunny winter day like this, with Jason next to her.
“We’ll figure it out,” she promised.
He looked at her hesitantly, like he wanted very much to believe her. “Annabeth and Rachel are coming in for the meeting tonight. I should probably wait until then to explain …”
“Okay.” She plucked a blade of grass by her foot. She knew there were dangerous things in store for both of them. She would have to compete with Jason’s past, and they might not even survive their war against the giants. But right now, they were both alive, and she was determined to enjoy this moment.
Jason studied her warily. His forearm tattoo was faint blue in the sunlight. “You’re in a good mood. How can you be so sure things will work out?”
“Because you’re going to lead us,” she said simply. “I’d follow you anywhere.”
Jason blinked. Then slowly, he smiled. “Dangerous thing to say.”
“I’m a dangerous girl.”
“That, I believe.”
He got up and brushed off his shorts. He offered her a hand. “Leo says he’s got something to show us out in the woods. You coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She took his hand and stood up.
For a moment, they kept holding hands. Jason tilted his head. “We should get going.”
“Yep,” she said. “Just a sec.”
She let go of his hand, and took a card from her pocket—the silver calling card that Thalia had given her for the Hunters of Artemis. She dropped it into a nearby eternal fire and watched it burn. There would be no breaking hearts in Aphrodite cabin from now on. That was one rite of passage they didn’t need.
Across the green, her cabinmates looking disappointed that they hadn’t witnessed a kiss. They started cashing in their bets.
But that was all right. Piper was patient, and she could see lots of good possibilities.
“Let’s go,” she told Jason. “We’ve got adventures to plan.”
LIII
LEO
LEO HADN’T FELT THIS JUMPY SINCE HE offered tofu burgers to the werewolves. When he got to the limestone cliff in the forest, he turned to the group and smiled nervously. “Here we go.”
He willed his hand to catch fire, and set it against the door.
His cabinmates gasped.
“Leo!” Nyssa cried. “You’re a fire user!”
“Yeah, thanks,” he said. “I know.”
Jake Mason, who was out of his body cast but still on crutches, said, “Holy Hephaestus. That means—it’s so rare that—”
The massive stone door swung open, and everyone’s mouth dropped. Leo’s flaming hand seemed insignificant now. Even Piper and Jason looked stunned, and they’d seen enough amazing things lately.
Only Chiron didn’t look surprised. The centaur knit his bushy eyebrows and stroked his beard, as if the group was about to walk through a minefield.
That made Leo even more nervous, but he couldn’t change his mind now. His instincts told him he was meant to share this place—at least with the Hephaestus cabin—and he couldn’t hide it from Chiron or his two best friends.
“Welcome to Bunker Nine,” he said, as confidently as he could. “C’mon in.”
The group was silent as they toured the facility. Everything was just as Leo had left it—giant machines, worktables, old maps and schematics. Only one thing had changed. Festus’s head was sitting on the central table, still battered and scorched from his final crash in Omaha.
Leo went over to it, a bitter taste in his mouth, and stroked the dragon’s forehead. “I’m sorry, Festus. But I won’t forget you.”
Jason put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Hephaestus brought it here for you?”
Leo nodded.
“But you can’t repair him,” Jason guessed.
“No way,” Leo said. “But the head is going to be reused. Festus will be going with us.”
Piper came over and frowned. “What do you mean?”
Before Leo could answer, Nyssa cried out, “Guys, look at this!”
She was standing at one of the worktables, flipping through a sketchbook—diagrams for hundreds of different machines and weapons.
“I’ve never seen anything like these,” Nyssa said. “There are more amazing ideas here than in Daedalus’s workshop. It would take a century just to prototype them all.”
“Who built this place?” Jake Mason said
. “And why?”
Chiron stayed silent, but Leo focused on the wall map he’d seen during his first visit. It showed Camp Half-Blood with a line of triremes in the Sound, catapults mounted in the hills around the valley, and spots marked for traps, trenches, and ambush sites.
“It’s a wartime command center,” he said. “The camp was attacked once, wasn’t it?”
“In the Titan War?” Piper asked.
Nyssa shook her head. “No. Besides, that map looks really old. The date … does that say 1864?”
They all turned to Chiron.
The centaur’s tail swished fretfully. “This camp has been attacked many times,” he admitted. “That map is from the last Civil War.”
Apparently, Leo wasn’t the only one confused. The other Hephaestus campers looked at each other and frowned.
“Civil War …” Piper said. “You mean the American Civil War, like a hundred and fifty years ago?”
“Yes and no,” Chiron said. “The two conflicts—mortal and demigod—mirrored each other, as they usually do in Western history. Look at any civil war or revolution from the fall of Rome onward, and it marks a time when demigods also fought one another. But that Civil War was particularly horrible. For American mortals, it is still their bloodiest conflict of all time—worse than their casualties in the two World Wars. For demigods, it was equally devastating. Even back then, this valley was Camp Half-Blood. There was a horrible battle in these woods lasting for days, with terrible losses on both sides.”
“Both sides,” Leo said. “You mean the camp split apart?”
“No,” Jason spoke up. “He means two different groups. Camp Half-Blood was one side in the war.”
Leo wasn’t sure he wanted an answer, but he asked, “Who was the other?”
Chiron glanced up at the tattered bunker 9 banner, as if remembering the day it was raised.
“The answer is dangerous,” he warned. “It is something I swore upon the River Styx never to speak of. After the American Civil War, the gods were so horrified by the toll it took on their children, that they swore it would never happen again. The two groups were separated. The gods bent all their will, wove the Mist as tightly as they could, to make sure the enemies never remembered each other, never met on their quests, so that bloodshed could be avoided. This map is from the final dark days of 1864, the last time the two groups fought. We’ve had several close calls since then. The nineteen sixties were particularly dicey. But we’ve managed to avoid another civil war—at least so far. Just as Leo guessed, this bunker was a command center for the Hephaestus cabin. In the last century, it has been reopened a few times, usually as a hiding place in times of great unrest. But coming here is dangerous. It stirs old memories, awakens the old feuds. Even when the Titans threatened last year, I did not think it worth the risk to use this place.”
Suddenly Leo’s sense of triumph turned to guilt. “Hey, look, this place found me. It was meant to happen. It’s a good thing.”
“I hope you’re right,” Chiron said.
“I am!” Leo pulled the old drawing out of his pocket and spread it on the table for everyone to see.
“There,” he said proudly. “Aeolus returned that to me. I drew it when I was five. That’s my destiny.”
Nyssa frowned. “Leo, it’s a crayon drawing of a boat.”
“Look.” He pointed at the largest schematic on the bulletin board—the blueprint showing a Greek trireme. Slowly, his cabinmates’ eyes widened as they compared the two designs. The number of masts and oars, even the decorations on the shields and sails were exactly the same as on Leo’s drawing.
“That’s impossible,” Nyssa said. “That blueprint has to be a century old at least.”
“‘Prophecy—Unclear—Flight,’” Jake Mason read from the notes on the blueprint. “It’s a diagram for a flying ship. Look, that’s the landing gear. And weaponry—Holy Hephaestus: rotating ballista, mounted crossbows, Celestial bronze plating. That thing would be one spankin’ hot war machine. Was it ever made?”
“Not yet,” Leo said. “Look at the masthead.”
There was no doubt—the figure at the front of the ship was the head of a dragon. A very particular dragon.
“Festus,” Piper said. Everyone turned and looked at the dragon’s head sitting on the table.
“He’s meant to be our masthead,” Leo said. “Our good luck charm, our eyes at sea. I’m supposed to build this ship.
I’m gonna call it the Argo II. And guys, I’ll need your help.”
“The Argo II.” Piper smiled. “After Jason’s ship.”
Jason looked a little uncomfortable, but he nodded. “Leo’s right. That ship is just what we need for our journey.”
“What journey?” Nyssa said. “You just got back!”
Piper ran her fingers over the old crayon drawing. “We’ve got to confront Porphyrion, the giant king. He said he would destroy the gods at their roots.”
“Indeed,” Chiron said. “Much of Rachel’s Great Prophecy is still a mystery to me, but one thing is clear. You three—Jason, Piper, and Leo—are among the seven demigods who must take on that quest. You must confront the giants in their homeland, where they are strongest. You must stop them before they can wake Gaea fully, before they destroy Mount Olympus.”
“Um …” Nyssa shifted. “You don’t mean Manhattan, do you?”
“No,” Leo said. “The original Mount Olympus. We have to sail to Greece.”
LIV
LEO
IT TOOK A FEW MINUTES FOR THAT TO settle in. Then the other Hephaestus campers started asking questions all at once. Who were the other four demigods? How long would it take to build the boat? Why didn’t everyone get to go to Greece?
“Heroes!” Chiron struck his hoof on the floor. “All the details are not clear yet, but Leo is correct. He will need your help to build the Argo II. It is perhaps the greatest project Cabin Nine has even undertaken, even greater than the bronze dragon.”
“It’ll take a year at least,” Nyssa guessed. “Do we have that much time?”
“You have six months at most,” Chiron said. “You should sail by summer solstice, when the gods’ power is strongest. Besides, we evidently cannot trust the wind gods, and the summer winds are the least powerful and easiest to navigate. You dare not sail any later, or you may be too late to stop the giants. You must avoid ground travel, using only air and sea, so this vehicle is perfect. Jason being the son of the sky god …”
His voice trailed off, but Leo figured Chiron was thinking about his missing student, Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon. He would’ve been good on this voyage, too.
Jake Mason turned to Leo. “Well, one thing’s for sure. You are now senior counselor. This is the biggest honor the cabin has ever had. Anyone object?”
Nobody did. All his cabinmates smiled at him, and Leo could almost feel their cabin’s curse breaking, their sense of hopelessness melting away.
“It’s official, then,” Jake said. “You’re the man.”
For once, Leo was speechless. Ever since his mom died, he’d spent his life on the run. Now he’d found a home and a family. He’d found a job to do. And as scary as it was, Leo wasn’t tempted to run—not even a little.
“Well,” he said at last, “if you guys elect me leader, you must be even crazier than I am. So let’s build a spankin’ hot war machine!”
LV
JASON
JASON WAITED ALONE IN CABIN ONE.
Annabeth and Rachel were due any minute for the head counselors’ meeting, and Jason needed time to think.
His dreams the night before had been worse than he’d wanted to share—even with Piper. His memory was still foggy, but bits and pieces were coming back. The night Lupa had tested him at the Wolf House, to decide if he would be a pup or food. Then the long trip south to … he couldn’t remember, but he had flashes of his old life. The day he’d gotten his tattoo. The day he’d been raised on a shield and proclaimed a praetor. His friends’ faces: Dako
ta, Gwendolyn, Hazel, Bobby. And Reyna. Definitely there’d been a girl named Reyna. He wasn’t sure what she’d meant to him, but the memory made him question what he felt about Piper—and wonder if he was doing something wrong. The problem was, he liked Piper a lot.
Jason moved his stuff to the corner alcove where his sister had once slept. He put Thalia’s photograph back on the wall so he didn’t feel alone. He stared up at the frowning statue of Zeus, mighty and proud, but the statue didn’t scare him anymore. It just made him feel sad.
“I know you can hear me,” Jason said to the statue.
The statue said nothing. Its painted eyes seemed to stare at him.
“I wish I could talk with you in person,” Jason continued, “but I understand you can’t do that. The Roman gods don’t like to interact with mortals so much, and—well, you’re the king. You’ve got to set an example.”
More silence. Jason had hoped for something—a bigger than usual rumble of thunder, a bright light, a smile. No, never mind. A smile would’ve been creepy.
“I remember some things,” he said. The more he talked, the less self-conscious he felt. “I remember that it’s hard being a son of Jupiter. Everyone is always looking at me to be a leader, but I always feel alone. I guess you feel the same way up on Olympus. The other gods challenge your decisions. Sometimes you’ve got to make hard choices, and the others criticize you. And you can’t come to my aid like other gods might. You’ve got to keep me at a distance so it doesn’t look like you’re playing favorites. I guess I just wanted to say …”
Jason took a deep breath. “I understand all that. It’s okay. I’m going to try to do my best. I’ll try to make you proud. But I could really use some guidance, Dad. If there’s anything you can do—help me so I can help my friends. I’m afraid I’ll get them killed. I don’t know how to protect them.”
The back of his neck tingled. He realized someone was standing behind him. He turned and found a woman in a black hooded robe, with a goatskin cloak over her shoulders and a sheathed Roman sword—a gladius—in her hands.
